‘I know that, Major. For me and my men it is running out very fast.’
NINE
There were at least thirty cellar rooms and vaults, ranging from little more than a cupboard-sized space to the three or four that would have garaged comfortably a brace of Challenger main battle tanks.
Most were lined with racks of small arms of every description, including mortars and anti-aircraft missile launchers. All were accompanied by stacks of the appropriate ammunition. The largest was filled with anti-tank weapons TOW’s, already uncrated and assembled.
Several times Voke talked down the major’s comments or criticisms. ‘Wait until I have shown you everything, then tell me what you think. I am being as quick as I can,’ he added to forestall that objection.
‘There is ample fuel for the generator, and its standby. Water, rations, chemical toilets – even a well-equipped dispensary. See, you can enter the cellars from several places inside the castle, but this is the only entrance or exit outside the walls.’
Drawing back three huge bolts on a studded door, Voke pulled it open with an effort and a gust of wind slapped rain into their faces.
For the first time Revell didn’t mind; it was very cool and refreshing after the exhaust-filled fetid atmosphere of decay in those catacombs.
As they stepped out, behind and above them soared the castle wall. To their left a narrow path hewn from the rock started down across the cliff face. It was slippery, and overgrown in places. Between them and a long drop to the trees far below was a ruined wall that bore faint signs of once having been crenulated, to offer its defenders firing positions. Now it was mostly gone. Unlike the main body of the castle this small outwork had been allowed to deteriorate. As they cautiously worked their way lower they passed several small towers built around natural fissures and caves in the face. Covered with creeping weeds, walls sagging, their interiors were dark, forbidding caverns they did not investigate.
Once Revell fancied he heard something behind them, but though he paused to listen, the sound wasn’t heard again and they restarted.
The path ended in a tower more substantial than the other, set with a gate made of timbers that could have been hewn only from whole trees. With some difficulty they scrambled up the inside of the tower until, by bracing their feet against the stubs of roof beams projecting from the stonework, they could look out over the parapet.
‘Just one minute more, please, Major. Then we shall start back.’ Voke pointed down toward the pine-woods. ‘Look there.’
Barely visible between the close-spaced trunks, Revell could make out shapeless bundles of cloth. Though the material had not yet begun to fade, already they were disappearing beneath the perpetual shower of needles and cones.
‘A couple of dozen dead civvies. So? It’s hardly anything out of the ordinary in the Zone.’
‘At various other locations around the valley there are several hundreds more. And not just ordinary refugees. Many of them were members of deserters’ gangs and other similar bandits.’
‘How come?’
Voke grabbed the opportunity offered by the major’s curiosity. ‘Until yesterday this complex was under the command of a captain in the Royal Engineers. He had passed up promotion to stay here. He was too old for a field command and felt that this was the closest he could get. He was very reluctant to leave. He had been here since shortly after the outbreak of war. I had several long talks with him before he left, and of course he showed me over the whole site.’ Sensing Revell was about to look at his watch again, he went on faster, gesturing with wide sweeps of his arms so that Revell had to look up to see what he was indicating.
‘During his time here a vast amount of ammunition and equipment had to be condemned. Either obsolete or at the end of its shelf-life, it could only be destroyed. There was in fact so much to be got rid of that an ordnance disposal section was stationed here permanently. I am not sure I remember all the figures correctly but in total I believe there to be about two thousand tons of shells, mines and bombs in the valley.’
‘I’ve seen waste on the sort of scale you’re talking about.’ Revell’s thoughts went back in time. ‘And not just in this war either. My uncle was in ‘Nam during the last months. He said one of his regular duties was guard on a dock where they loaded ships to dump ammo in the gulf. There must have been thousands of tons shipped out.’
‘The waste here would have been in proportion.’
‘How does that explain those stiffs?’
‘Very simple.’ Voke could not repress a chuckle. ‘He hated waste. There was a disposal site in the hills, but it was never used. Every unwanted mine, rocket, bomb, shell, and grenade has been used to construct a wide killing zone around the valley.’
‘We passed through a roadblock in a gorge about six, maybe seven kilometres from here. On the road out past the old mill. Was that some of his work? If it was, it may be formidable, but it wouldn’t stall Soviet combat engineers for long.’
‘That?’ Voke laughed outright this time. ‘My men laid that in a couple of hours. Think what it would have been like if we had been adding to it and refining it for two years.’
‘And it’s all unofficial?’ Revell tried to picture the ordnance experts using all their skill and ingenuity over the months and years to lay thousands, perhaps millions of mines and booby-traps.
‘It is all very unofficial. The captain was very unhappy when he was ordered out. He wished to stay and see his plan put to the test. Of course, during his time here it was, on a fairly small scale.’
‘You mean refugee gangs like those down there.’ Revell found the whole concept fascinating but flawed, deeply. ‘Knocking off a few civvies, even when they come at you mob-handed, is very different from trying to stop a Soviet Guards Army with all their resources.’
‘I am aware of that; so was the English captain. His theories were well tested. Gangs have tried to break in using vehicles and armour salvaged from the battlefields. Once it was a single Challenger backed by several APCs. Another time a large group of deserters tried it with Leopards and T72s. All were stopped. And there is more than just explosive devices, machine-gun-rigged to sweep avenues of approach, gas shells, flame throwers…’
‘What’s that low concrete structure at the bottom of the cliff?’
‘That was one of the captain’s favourites; there are two others positioned where they’d be appropriate.’ Although Voke knew exactly where to look and what he was looking for, the camouflage of the bunker was so good it took him a moment to pinpoint it.
‘In there mounted on an old semi-trailer is a large generator. There is a spring down there and the ground is wet all the year ‘round. Triggered by the approach of infantry it will start up and push a very high voltage through the ground.’
Impressed, Revell tried not to sound it. ‘The instant it starts up it’ll stand out on the IR screen of every Soviet tank and SP for miles, and be picked up instantly by every Warpac electro-emissions detector truck.’
‘So what, quite frankly?’ Voke was not about to be put down. ‘The concrete is two meters thick and the air intake and exhaust pipe are well protected. It has fuel for two-and-a-half days. Tell me, how would you walk up and switch it off? It cost the captain his spirit ration for two months to bribe helicopter pilots to lift in the trailer and concrete, a load at a time.’
Seeing the advantage he had gained, but sensing the major was still not convinced, Voke pressed on. ‘You must understand, that is just one tiny part, almost an afterthought among the mass of defences. And every precaution has been taken against countermeasures. A high proportion of the mines are resistant to the overpressures of fuel air explosives if the enemy uses that method, and .of course most of the ground is highly unsuitable for the deployment of mechanical means of clearance.’