A Ukrainian ZSU-23-4 had picked its spot between two still smoking hulks. Its internal blowers fought to expel the stench similar to that of roast pork that had seeped in from the upwind hulk, an APC. Its commander had watched as a Hind-D had appeared briefly from behind a small hillock on the western bank, each time it had appeared an AFV had died on the east bank. The ZSU commander thought he had detected a pattern and ranged the vehicles quadruple 23mm armament at the left edge. A minute later the Hind popped out to fire again and he shredded its armoured cockpit, the depleted uranium tips of the shells could penetrate twice the depth of armour the tank killer carried. No sooner had the Hind died then so too did the ZSU, as a CBUs bomblets landed on and around it.
Over to the east Major Kegin spotted the muzzle smoke of heavy self-propelled artillery as they fired and steered toward them. The SPs were sat in a woodland clearing in the midst of firing another mission when Kegin’s aircraft passed over, the bomblets from his CBUs exploded them and a logistics support vehicle delivering reloads.
It was time to go home and Kegin led his wingman west, as he calculated the possibility of recrossing the battlefield on burners to minimise risk. As he was about to tell his wingman to go to burner a new threat tone screeched in his ears, the warning that he had been locked-up.
Fighters!
Not all the traitors had fled when the coup in Belorussia had failed, not all the traitors had declared their true affiliations either, which was why the Russian Migs, which sprang the trap, were all squawking the correct loyal Belarus IFF codes. The Belarus fighter CAP had been the first to fall and then the Migs had started in on the fighter-bombers and helicopter gunships.
Both aircraft broke hard right and Kegin looked over and back to see what was on his tail, he saw nothing.
High above the Belorussians a pair of Russian Mig-31 Foxhounds had them locked-up on their look down-knock down fixed pulse-doppler radars, the sophisticated systems picked out the fast moving targets from the ground clutter and the lead aircraft pickled off a pair of AA-11 Archer missiles.
The Mig-31 is capable of the simultaneous tracking of ten separate targets and can engage any four at once. Despite the criticism levelled at the Russian aerospace industry, they can produce some outstanding airframes and the Foxhound is a case in point, it can act as an airborne control platform in a limited capacity. The Foxhound can control a small-scale air battle in the way an A-50 handles a large one, controlling other aircraft’s guided weapons, steering them by data-link, undetected toward their targets.
Maintenance problems have, for some years dogged the eastern blocs air fleets, especially since the fall of the Soviet Union. Russia lost no fewer than ninety-four dedicated maintenance sites throughout the old Warsaw Pact alliance. Specialist technicians, suppliers and tooling were no longer available to the air fleets; it takes time to rebuild a maintenance infrastructure, especially with a dodgy economy. Loose bolts notwithstanding, the Mig-31 Foxhound was superior in its unique ability to any comparable airframe worldwide, certainly as late as 1998.
The AA-11s now homing on Kegin and his wingman were superior even to the US Sidewinder, far smarter and more manoeuvrable.
The Belorussian Floggers went to afterburner, seeking the fragile security of the western bank, whoever was tracking them was not deterred by their low altitude and the AA-11s ignored the last of the Floggers flares and chaff as their dispenser ran dry.
Kegin jettisoned his empty rocket pods to reduce drag and gain a few more knots, he was considering another hard turn to try to break the approaching missiles lock when the first missile exploded his wingman. It both saved him and doomed his aircraft all in one stroke. The second missile detonated in the flying debris of his wingman, Kegin’s Flogger bucked with the force of the explosion and flamed out. At the altitude he was at, Kegin knew the aircraft was unrecoverable and punched out of the fighter-bomber rather faster than the book recommended for ejections.
When CSM Colin Probert left the battalion CP, he had already got a viable plan worked out. He looked in briefly with the RSM to give him a heads up on another matter before heading back to the QR Fs area.
Oz, Sergeant Steve Osgood, was his chosen 2 i/c and he handed him the warning order for the evenings fighting patrol, which consisted on the personnel involved, dress and equipment, special kit (if any), timings and location of the O Group, plus the ‘no move before’ timings.
Colin shook off his fighting order and sat with his back to a tree, writing in his notebook.
Taking out a map and protractor he worked out the route out, keeping to legs of no more than 700m to prevent navigation errors. He chose the site of the FRV, final rendezvous point, where the fighting patrol would separate into three groups, snatch squad, fire support and the rear protection group which would guard their rear and protect the bergens that would be left there. The route he picked hardly touched any roads, tracks or footpaths once past the river. If Colin had ever needed any lesson’s in avoiding the easy routes it had been given in Ulster, he had watched a man disintegrate mid-way across a cattle grid, having chosen not to climb a barbed wire fence instead. A terrorist had watched and waited before detonating the command detonated device hidden there.
With the route out complete, he then planned the return legs bringing them home. He did not just reverse the route, because had they been seen going out it would be a simple matter to lay an ambush for them on their return.
The return journey’s legs were well clear of the outgoing ones.
His next task was to convert the map bearings to magnetic ones due the variance between the three ‘North’s’, grid, magnetic and true. First he checked the date of the map he was working from, the magnetic poles are gradually shifting and the variance had to be added for the correct compass bearings. These days the forces relied more and more on GPS to do the navigation, but he knew it was just a matter of time before the NAVSATs would start to be knocked down by either side, and he wanted his boys to get into practice with map and compass before then.
With that task finished he took out his ground sheet, spreading it on the ground and moving to the side the patrol would be sitting, he created a model. Undergrowth was tucked underneath to raise it in correspondence with the high ground they would see on the patrol and blades of grass were clumped on top in the shape of woods and copses. Colin used solid fuel tablet’s to represent buildings and from an old tobacco tin in his webbing he produced coloured ribbon, laying out the course of rivers, streams, roads, tracks and paths. Twigs mirrored the fences and hedgerows before finally he added nametags from the tin, marking each leg, RV, FRV and position of the three groups. They had seen much service, those items from the tin, and the nametags were covered in clear Fabulon or ‘sticky back plastic’ to the Blue Peter generation.
He checked his watch, picked up his webbing, rifle and walked 100m to await the patrol members arrival.
When he had taken over the QRF he’d let them all know the way it was going to be. He was a thinking man’s soldier, brought up in the army that had faced the old Red Army across the Iron Curtain and not impressed by the modern way of thinking being spouted by the MOD.
He couldn’t do anything about the US style reorganisation of the infantry platoons organisation, but he could about the way they fought and lived.
“Forget all the bollocks you were fed about the Q Bloke always being there with replen's of ammo, rations and water, whenever you need it.” He’d told them, referring to the quartermasters department.
“There are a lot of blokes over here shooting at a lot more blokes over there. The depots, convoys and trains are going to come under attack and you bunch of Charlie’s are not going to use the rifles on automatic without my say so. Don’t hold yer breath on that one either because I want single aimed shots from the riflemen.”