To the west of the Elbe it was not Regimental sized formations that were ordered to turn about though. The Russian 77th Guards Tank Division began the business of changing its axis of advance by 180°, lumbering awkwardly around. Only by first allowing the support units to pass through the Tank and Motor Rifle Regiments on the narrow roads could the men and armoured fighting vehicles retrace their steps to the river and deal with the pitifully inadequate NATO units that had the audacity to try and trap a giant.
It was going to take time for that manoeuvre to happen, and in order to prevent the French and Canadians from preparing adequate defences, battalion sized units were receiving orders to leave positions guarding the flanks and attack the pair of NATO brigades on the Elbe.
There was nothing on the operators screens to suggest that the advance on the autobahns was hesitating, units identified by radio intercepts as being Romanian had come up on the flanks of the Czechs and were about to fall on the British and American trenches at Vormundberg. Behind those troops were two Russian divisions in the last throes of deploying and would soon be following on. They would overlap the Czech’s and Romanians, encompassing the combined frontage of the British, Dutch and US brigades. The French legionnaires of 2Rep and the Royal Marines of 44 Commando were already in receipt of artillery fire, and they were responding as the overrun 40 Commando had done, by sending out tank killing patrols rather than just hiding in their shelter bays and waiting.
Mark Venables Challenger left the small copse that hid the ammunition resupply point for his squadron, and motored back toward the ominous shape of Vormundberg. He had been listening with increasing anxiety to events on both the battalion and squadron nets, and even though it was only a five minute journey back to the reverse slopes he would have coaxed the machine into powered flight if he had been able.
His driver showed why he had been chosen to sit in the front seat of the squadron commander’s callsigns, working the six forward gears to achieve 40kpm across open ground to the single, narrow metalled road that led back to the hill, and once upon that hard surface he got the sixty-two and a half tonne vehicle up to 55kph.
The trees cast long shadows, which closed over the MBT as it entered the pines that covered the feature, its passage shook the trees lining the road and continued to do so until the road sloped upwards and forced the driver to change down.
Mark Venables gripped the edge of the hatch and ducked to avoid a branch, but he did not order the speed slackened off.
The tarmac gave way to gravel and then the Challenger slowed, turning off onto the track that would lead it to the route over the top of Vormundberg.
Pat Reed had found himself in a purely spectator position, up upon the hillside and watching the Czech 23rd MRR coming on in contrast to the Romanians who were fast moving up on either flank. Although the 3 Company CP was close by he had not entered, it had not seemed appropriate to burden that company’s commander with his presence, so he and his party stayed outside and observed.
Without the minefield the Czech vehicles advanced confidently, the direct fire support from their fellows in lieu of a standard heavy artillery barrage.
The tank fire from the hillside slackened as the troop attached to the Argyll’s withdrew, repositioning themselves to best deal with the Romanians closing on the Scottish regiments positions. As the Czechs closed, the Hussars could no longer engage those in the fore, their barrels were at maximum depression. Those fighting vehicles their guns could still reach were engaged in the same way, a carefully aimed shot followed by a rapid relocation to another firing position. For every round fired by the Chieftains and Challengers they drew the fire of at least three enemy tanks and/or anti-tank launchers.
Tango One Two Charlie, 2 Troops problem child had started off by doing pretty well, its driver treated it with kid gloves and its kill rate had equalled that of the other Chieftain in the troop. When the troop commanders Chieftain was taken out it increased the pressure on the remaining pair of tanks in coping with the mass of targets within the troops arc of responsibility. Soon after that occurred the temperamental gearbox in One Two Charlie started again with the driver experiencing difficulty in changing from forward gears to reverse, and it was also inclined to jump out of gear at high revs.
The inevitable happened after they had destroyed yet another of the elderly T-72s, the rear gears refused to engage, leaving the vehicle exposed to retaliatory fire. The driver had done the only thing possible in the circumstances, with one track locked and the other churning forward he had the tank crabbing around through 180°, cursing the machine loudly for effect as he did so. A sabot round striking the side of the turret and careening away caused the Chieftains young loader to lose control of his bowels. The manoeuvre was nearing completion when they were hit again, this time in the engine compartment where the sabot defeated the armoured covering. The twelve-cylinder Rolls Royce engine absorbed the sabot round’s remaining energy and the crew compartment was not breached, but the tank itself was dead, with diesel from severed lines gushing over metal turned white by the sabots impact. Flames were lapping around the turret, and its crew had bailed out, making good use of the smokes cover to gain the safety of the trees. They made their way to 3 Company’s CP, on arrival they were unceremoniously bundled into the COs Warrior and sent back to the REME workshop to collect one of the replacement vehicles.
Heavy and medium shell and rocket artillery had been landing on the forward slopes for several minutes but it was not in the proportions that it had been when the battalion had been dug in at Magdeburg.
Pat Reed hated the banshee wail of the rockets; he could quite understand how grown men, trained and experienced soldiers at that, could soil themselves at the sound of one approaching.
He studied the approaching enemy, noting that despite the number of vehicles that were being destroyed there were still more than enough to go around.
Pat started at the sound of a single rifle shot close by and craned his neck to see who was wasting ammunition on armour, but what he saw was Bill and Big Stef lying within a bramble patch just downhill of his own position. The Coldstreamer was peering along the Swiftscope and spotting for the Staff Sergeant who was controlling his breathing as he took aim at his next victim. Pat unzipped his smock and fished out his self-focussing binoculars, which he raised to his eyes, looking in the direction the sniper appeared to be aiming. Several vehicles flitted across his view, all had their hatches firmly shut but then he saw a T-80 with additional antennae marking it as a command tank, and it had an open lid. The top of a head was just visible and he couldn’t figure how Bill could consider such an impossible shot to be viable, but then the tank slowed slightly and the front end dipped down into a wide crater, exposing more of the cranium to view. The crack of the shot made him start again but his eyes were on the top of the Soviet tankers head when the 7.62 round entered it, splashing the inside of the hatch cover with gore.
Pat took his eyes from the binoculars to look down at the snipers in amazement, such an incredible shot deserved some words at the very least, but Stef had already spotted another target and Bill, the last victim forgotten already, was moving his body around slightly, re-setting the placement of elbows and the line of his torso so that the weapon would point naturally at the fresh target.
Pat hunted for the snipers prey, but it was not a company or battalion commander this time.
Peering over the cover of a low bank, a young Czech infantry lieutenant looked for a firing position closer to NATO lines than the one they currently occupied. The BTR-60 he had been riding in had been knocked out but he had been lucky enough to escape along with three of his riflemen. A conscientious officer, he had gathered up other stray troops hiding in ditches amongst whom were numbered two AT-3 Sagger crews, and he had physically dragged these men from hiding places and put them to doing what they had been intended to, attacking the NATO armour. Crewmen and infantrymen who had escaped unscathed, or just a little bit singed in one or two cases from knocked out tanks and fighting vehicles, now became either the security for the Sagger crews, or the mules that carried the reloads. Neither of the anti-tank crews had scored hits yet, but they were contributing considerably to the British Hussars discomfort.