Up ahead the AA-10s Tombstone radar locked up the fast approaching Mig-29 and launched two missiles at it. They were not expecting visitors and not prepared to ask questions first.
“Podonock!” Cursed the Fulcrums pilot, the literal translation of the Belarus oath being “Wankers!” as the missiles acquisition of his aircraft was conveyed via the screeching in his ears. He punched out chaff and flares before initiating a vertical jink in an effort to break the missiles lock.
There was a blinding flash and he was thrown hard forward against his shoulder straps, master-warning lights lit the console and alarms screeched.
The Migs twin stabilisers had been sheared off the airframe and shrapnel from an AA-10 peppered the starboard Turmanski turbofan, which disintegrated, trashing the port engine as it did so. With a very poor opinion of the army, its pilot ejected clear of his aircraft as it came apart.
The ZSU detected an incoming HARM and its operator switched its radar to standby whilst the SA-10s operator failed to react in time and was vaporised as the first HARM struck home.
Switching off a search radar does not ensure safety when HARMs are in the air, the memory within its processor remembers where the signal originated if it gets a long enough look, if not it will circle the area until its fuel runs out or the radar comes on again.
The ZSU-23-4 operator had only detected the one missile, when the Tombstone radar and control vehicle was destroyed the ZSU radar went active again.
Coming within 500m of the ZSU the F-117A had no background clutter to hide in, the turret spun to lead the aircraft and its quadruple 23mm cannon poured four streams of armour piercing shells into its path.
The ZSU was still expending rounds at a rate of thirty-two hundred a minute when the second HARM re-attacked, lighting up the area with a brilliant flash as it struck.
A series of loud impacts and a mushy feel to the controls told Tobias that they were in trouble; he did not need the master alarms to tell him that. A gale was blowing in the cockpit and a strong vibration was shaking the airframe. He was trying to gain some altitude when the engine fire warning lights came on and the aircraft suffered a 100 % failure of its avionics.
“Time to go Billy!” he shouted, glancing at his navigator as he reached for the ejection handle, only Billy had no head and didn’t reply. The sight caused Tobias to freeze for a moment as his hands closed over the ejection handle and it was the split second difference between life and death. Tobias was still staring at his crewmate when Hawk 01 exploded in a ball of flame.
With the local residents of that area of Germany having, for the most part, fled their homes, the night was absent the usual activity associated with the hour. No lights lit the horizon with the sulphurous glow of street lighting, no car headlights, no car engines in the distance, no sounds of human activity except their own breathing.
The Warriors had carried them from the rear of the Battalion area to the rear of 1 Company where they had continued on foot through the lines and down the wooded slope to the river.
The only thing distinguishing Colin from the other patrol members was the ½” x ¼” rectangle of white material on the back of his helmet, denoting him as the patrol commander. It was fixed to his helmet by the only piece of velcro present on any of his equipment. velcro, nylon hook and eye fasteners held closed cuffs, pockets and fulfilled any number of other tasks on the issued equipment. It may be cheap and handy but Colin hated the stuff, hated the audible ripping sound it made at night. He had removed all of it from his own, replacing it with old-fashioned brass press-studs, hand sown and painted black. The minute and muffled noise they made when used was far, far quieter. He rarely wore the wind-proof and wet proof clothing either, nylon is noisy when it brushes against objects, and if he wore it at all it was beneath a layer of cotton or wool.
A footbridge crossed above a weir beside a timber mill, although the mill was still a functional part of the local industry, the great mill wheel was stilled. The mill and the few cottages nearby were devoid any sign of current human occupation.
A breeze gently shook the branches of the trees, and in the sky was the narrow crescent of a quarter moon. Patches of cloud, moving slowly with the wind masked it from time to time, reducing visibility further. The unlit windows of the habitat’s they passed starred back at the passing troops like empty eye sockets, the cry of a Nightjar added an eeriness to the night.
As briefed, Colin would pick a recognisable feature along their route and pointing at the ground made wide circular motions, the action was mimicked by each man as they reached the spot, if they were bumped between there and the next point he chose, that is where they would RV.
Colin was the second man in the column, before him was the point, feeling for trip wires and looking for trouble ahead. Oz was at the rear, preserving the command structure if Colin were taken out at the front, Oz was also there to ensure no one got lost and to command the gun group that watched their ‘6’. Colin really wished he had an SLR in his hands right now. He missed its reliability and heavy, high velocity 7.62 round. If you hit the target it went down and stayed down with the first hit. The thing in his hands lacked the SLRs dependability and that stopping power. There were a couple of the new L85-A2 models in the Battalion, its new barrel with different rifling allowed it to fire the SS-108 round, the current round was pushed to penetrate soft skinned vehicles. H & K had got the contract to sort out the rifles many failings and the SS-108 round had a steel penetrator, which should improve stopping power. The Marines had the upgraded weapon prior to going to Afghanistan but came back seriously dissatisfied. It didn’t like cold weather, the metal contracted and it suffered stoppages. It didn’t like hot weather, the metal expanded and it suffered stoppages. It didn’t like dirt, but then no weapon does, the SA80 just had a far, far lower freshold of tolerance for sand and grit, than most.
Every man had an assigned arc to cover, looking and listening for anything out of place. Shape, shine, shadow, silhouette, movement and noise are the big give away's in camouflage and concealment. Merge in, don’t stand out, move slowly when you must and don’t make a sound, if you can achieve all that then you’ve got it cracked.
The ears are the most important sense in the dark but you have to know how to use your eyes to the best advantage. Stare at an object and it may disappear or fade to indistinction because of the light receptors in human eyes. The human eye has rods and cones, so called because that is their shape. The rods are at the front, receiving reflected light frequencies from objects that the brain translates as shapes, they have a narrow aperture to assist focus. The cones are at the side and their wide aperture collects more reflected light so you can see better at night by looking through the corners of your eyes. It takes a little while for eyes to adjust to the dark and any light exposure ruins it until the eye can adjust again. The drill for safeguarding night vision is to close your shooting eye until the flare, or whatever the source, is gone. Illumination at night is a double-edged weapon; you use the one open eye to take advantage of the additional light, carefully and slowly looking about.
At the end of each leg the patrol took up all round defence, facing outwards, legs splayed and over-lapping their neighbours. Viewed from above, the fighting patrol might resemble a synchronised swimming team at dry practice, but it was a means of communication and not intended to draw a six-six score from the Luxembourg judge.
Each man had his right leg over the lower left leg of the man on his right, when Colin signalled them to move out, it was done by raising his left leg twice, nudging the man beside him who would then pass the message on anti-clockwise. Colin would know when everyone had received the message, when his right leg was nudged in turn. At the end of each leg the navigators set the bearing for the next leg and looking through the compass prism would pick a landmark to march on. Colin remembered a Welsh Guardsman from his own Junior Brecon, on one exercise they had marched through the night across a featureless landscape, yet the Welshman had stopped periodically to take a bearing. Colin hadn’t been able to make out what the hell he could see that Colin couldn’t so he asked him, the man had pointed above the horizon to the full moon that crept across the sky… he had been leading them around in a wide circle.