“Slow by five; our boys are just ahead,” he informed his driver.
Looking down and to the left, past the other side of the yellow-painted auto-loader, he could see Barsukov, rocking from the hip as he moved with the motion of the tank, his eyes up against the IG42-quantum periscope sight, ready to fire on a target that presented itself. Looking down and right, the visual indicator showed that there was a sabot round loaded and ready.
“Two-Zero, Two-One. Through the minefield. Over.”
“Two-One, understood.”
On the internal comms, he called to Kokorev, “Stop, stop, stop.”
The heavyweight tank came to a halt, rocking on its suspension.
“Two-Two, Two-Three, stop, stop. Two-One, leave unit as marker; then move two, zero, zero west. Over.”
“Two-One received, smoke thinning. Out.”
The turret swung right as Barsukov lined the tank’s gun barrel up with the likely direction of the town of Braunschweig.
“Two-Three, Two-Zero. One minute, then move through. Two, zero, zero south-west.”
“Two-zero-zero, south-west.”
“Two-Two, Two-Zero, wait two, then two, zero, zero north-west.”
“Two-Zero, Two-Two. Yes. One unit dropping out, mechanical.”
Shit, thought Trusov. But he couldn’t complain. They had been exceptionally lucky in keeping most of their tanks on the road. He scanned what little he could see ahead; but the smoke was definitely thinning out. He felt a slight southern breeze on his left cheek, indicating the smokescreen would move across the town, but expose his left flank to the forest.
Boo,boo,boo,boo,boom. Boo,boo,boo,boo,boom.
A ripple of explosions came from their front left and right flank as Frogfoot ground-attack aircraft laid into the defenders yet again. Any survivors from the previous artillery, missile and air attacks kept their heads well and truly down.
Good, Trusov thought, that would keep the British gunners’ heads down. He could see more and more clearly in front of him. Although cover was a good thing to have, they also needed to see where they were going and pick out targets that may threaten their advance. He tapped his fingers sequentially on the edge of the turret hatchway, listening intently for any sound of movement. Off to his front right, he could not only hear tanks moving but could also see the shadowy shapes about 100 metres away, heading at speed for the gap through the minefields.
“Standby, standby,” he called to Kokorev.
Barsukov heard the call and turned the turret so it was now at a forty-five degree angle to the left, the likely area where he would find a target and where the smokescreen would disappear first. He was nervous, as was his comrade up front in the driver’s seat. Stationary, they would be a sitting target; he would be pleased once they were on the move again.
Off to the left, Trusov heard the whine of gas-turbine engines as Two-Three started their journey towards the gap they must pass through. He caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his left eye as one of Savva’s tanks sped across their front, not more than twenty metres ahead. He resisted the temptation to order Kokorev forward, knowing there would be a high risk of a collision.
“Two-Zero, Two-Two. Through.”
Trusov did not acknowledge; too much radio chatter was unnecessary. The tank company raced west, through the gap; then dispersed to their planned positions, spreading out to make less of a target.
“Two-Zero, Two-Three. Through, deploying.”
Savva would be taking his company south-west, covering the battalion’s left flank.
The turret of Trusov’s command tank moved slightly, Barsukov’s impatience telling.
“Keep it still,” snapped Trusov. “Kokorev, pull forward slowly.”
The engine built up power, Kokorev manipulating the accelerator, engine idle and the gear shift on his right, and the tank built up speed. Peering through the vision blocks, he too could see dark shadows ahead as they caught up with Savva’s company and made their way through the minefield. One of Mahayev’s tanks and one of the mine-plough tanks marked the entrance, the commanders in the turrets waving them forward.
“Go for it,” ordered Trusov.
Kokorev didn’t need to have the order repeated. He put his foot down, taking the tank up through the gears, the battle tank lurching forwards, ripping up the earth beneath its tracks. Savva’s company cut left as Kokorev manoeuvred his tank out of the gap on the other side. They were followed by the guard tank which quickly overtook them to catch up with its mother unit.
Trusov was almost blinded as they drove out of the smokescreen into full daylight. The tanks had now stopped generating smoke, ready to use their engines for their true purpose: to power the T-80s into battle. Leaving the rapidly dissolving smokescreen behind them, Trusov’s battalion fanned out. He could see the forest ahead, now occupied by their motor rifle battalion. The battalion had encountered no resistance. In fact, the biggest challenge was not the British army but negotiating the shattered ground with their BMP-2s. The motor rifle battalion commander, Lachkov, would have been astounded if there had been anyone left alive in this hellhole, to have prevented his men from taking their objective: the western edge of the forest where the River Oker would be a mere 2,000 metres away.
The T-80 lifted up as a shell exploded less than twenty metres away and rocked back down, Kokorev fighting with the two steering sticks to get it back in control. Trusov ducked as clods of earth pounded the tank and fragments zinged off the turret, and he quickly dropped down into the compartment closing the hatch after him. He peered through the right-hand vision-block and could see columns of earth being thrown into the air as shell after shell peppered the ground around his battalion. It was the British army’s turn to retaliate and hammer the advancing Soviet forces. Reports started to come in from the R-173 radio transceiver. Two-company on the right flank had lost one tank to artillery and a second to a Milan missile.
Trusov urged Kokorev on. If he could get two-company into the northern edge of the forest, facing the southern outskirts of Braunschweig, one-company on the western edge of the forest on the right flank of the motor rifle battalion, the third tank battalion would be to their far left and three-company in reserve behind, he would be in a good position to support the advance and the crossing of the River Oker. The entire 62nd Guards Tank Regiment of seventy-eight tanks, its motor rifle battalion and its twenty-four remaining BMP-2s would support 248th Guards Motor Rifle Regiment in making a crossing. All of the regiment’s eighty-two BMP-2s and twenty-six T-80s would be joined by the reconnaissance battalion. Heavy amphibious pontoons, such as the GSP ferries, along with PTS and K-61s, were already speeding to the front, ready to force a daytime crossing. A PMP pontoon bridge company would enable the Soviets to put in place a substantial floating bridge to move heavier units across and get to grips with the enemy. Heavy artillery, air-to-ground support from the air force, missiles and rockets had been committed to make this a fast passage.
It wouldn’t be the only crossing. Further south, 7 Guards Tank Division would be doing the same, increasing the pressure on the thinly spread British 4th Armoured Division trying to stem the flow. The British would continue to fight a delaying battle. The combat teams were already withdrawing from Braunschweig and Wolfenbuttel, to take up positions on the western bank of the river, leaving any further fighting to the West German reserve forces. No effort would be made by the Soviet army to enter the major conurbations; not yet, at least. But follow-on forces would ensure the security of the rear. Two additional elements would help swing the day in the Soviets’ favour, the dreaded Hip and Hind gunships supporting a full motor rifle battalion, provided by the 61st Guards Tank Regiment that would be landed on the opposite bank by scores of Hip and Hook transport helicopters. Trusov was confident they would be able to continue their advance west by early afternoon.