“Got him,” Wilf whispered in Badger’s ear.
They moved off again until they were directly opposite the tail end of the vehicle and then made a beeline for the TEL, stopping as they came up against the back end. Although similar in some respects to the SCUD-B, this was a very much later model. It still had four pairs of wheels, two at each end, but the missile was hidden inside the TEL; not exposed like that of the Scud-B.
Badger peered around the one side, checking on the sleeping bundles next to the centre of the TEL, while Wilf looked along the opposite side, which also looked clear. They immediately got to work. Badger prepared some Plastic Explosive to attach close to the launching mechanism of the TEL while Wilf walked at a crouch beneath the much lower canopy of netting, stretched out from the vehicle and pinned to the ground. He arrived at the point where he was close to the cab, the three side windows just above him. He needed to place the PE as close to the warhead as possible, which would be difficult as the missile was shielded. A sudden glow indicated that the occupant, probably the sentry, was still partaking in a smoke. At any moment, the guard could exit the cab and discover the intruders, so Wilf got on with his mission. His task was to place a charge that would destroy the warhead, making it and the rocket section unusable. Once he crimped the detonator, they would have three hours to get out of the area. It wasn’t just the likelihood of discovery, or even the potential explosion if the missile was ignited along with the fuel, that worried him. He, along with the rest of his team, suspected that these could be tactical nuclear warheads, probably 100 kiloton in size. Although the explosion of the PE would not cause a nuclear detonation, it could certainly create a ‘dirty bomb’. To a man, they feared the effects of nuclear radiation.
His dilemma was how to get up there. The top of the vehicle was three metres high. He couldn’t use the step next to the cab for fear of alerting the occupant. He placed his boot carefully and quietly on the wheel nuts and levered himself up so he was able to stand on the metre-tall tyre. He moulded the PE onto the missile cover, crimped the detonator, and lowered himself down. Wilf headed back to Badger who was peering at him around the corner. They conferred and then moved further into the centre of the ‘U’ shaped clearing to where they found a second TEL. Two more PE packages were deposited.
Wilf checked his watch and whispered to Badger, “We’ll have time to do the resupply vehicles.”
Badger agreed, and they crept back into the forest and transited across the base of the ‘U’ where they had spotted two resupply vehicles, each one carrying a reload for the SS-23s. Next to them was a transporter loader, also carrying a spare missile. They had to be quick. Time was running out.
As they drifted back into the trees, crossing a track that ran along the edge of the treeline, the silence was shattered by the sound of a vehicle engine tearing along the track. They saw a flicker of lights to the east and threw themselves to the ground, closing their eyes to protect their night vision as it raced past. It didn’t stop, and once they were sure it was long gone, they moved to the RV with fifty minutes to spare. Tag and Hacker were already there, having only had two TELS to target.
“We need to split, Wilfy. We have about fifty minutes.”
“Agreed. Soon as we can, I need to radio in and confirm this location. HQ will want to organise a much heavier strike from the air. Hacker, you lead, Tag you’re the last man.”
They recovered their Bergen’s and moved northwest, sticking with the treeline until they reached the point where the forest butted up against the road. A steady stream of logistics vehicles, with only convoy lights showing, drove past in both directions.
Thirty minutes.
As soon as there was a break in the traffic, the four men scooted across, and Hacker led them at an angle, across an open field for about 300 metres until they were safe amongst the trees again.
Twenty minutes.
The troopers crossed open ground to a smaller copse; then headed west to a minor road, crossing the Roter Bach, an irrigation ditch, turning north using the trees next to the road that ran alongside for cover.
Fifteen minutes.
A fast march had turned into a double march, as they were desperate to get away from the exposed road. The CPU came across a small copse with a pool of water at its centre. Wilf knew where he wanted to get to and urged his men on.
Ten minutes.
The patrol crossed a further road, which ran west from Hupede, until they approached the ditch on the opposite side, the place Wilf had been heading for. Two hundred metres to their right was the L422, traffic still moving along it and, just under a kilometre to their north, the L402 where they could also hear the steady drone of traffic, that likewise ran west from the village. The Soviet’s logistic force was ever on the move, feeding and resupplying their front line troops.
Five minutes.
They tabbed along the edge of the ditch, often slipping into its cold waters, trees and foliage lining each side giving them some cover. They moved quickly, much faster than they would have wished, but they knew that, once the explosives were detonated, the Soviets would be out for revenge. There was also an element of mild panic. Yes, they were Special Forces, trained for this type of operation. But, up until now, none of them had done it for real.
Thump… thump… thump.
They threw themselves to the bank, seeing white flashes lighting up the dark skies.
Thump… thump. The explosive charges ripped into the SS-23s, wrenching apart the launch mechanisms of the TELs and destroying the missiles. Neither the TELs nor the missiles, or even the resupply and loading vehicles, would be used in anger in this war. Two more explosions shattered the silence of the night as more TELs or resupply vehicles were destroyed.
Whoompf… whoompf. The fuel from the TELs and possibly the rocket propellant was adding to the destruction. Many of the Soviet rocket troops would be killed, and Wilf and his team knew that the Soviets would be baying for blood.
Thump… thump.
Fourteen major explosions were counted, plus numerous secondary explosions, meaning that every PE package that had been placed had done its job. The four men took a few minutes to congratulate each other before Wilf quickly drove them on, and they continued slopping along the edge of the ditch, Wilf wanting to get them to the Deister, the forested high ground, where they could rest up and hide. If they could make it that far without getting caught, they had a chance of survival. He also knew that it was a hollow victory. If it were indeed one of the two missile brigades of GSFG, there would still be over thirty of these tactical ballistic missiles left to rain nuclear warheads down on NATO troops. He picked up speed, urging his men to do likewise. Time was against them. They needed to skirt the village of Bennigsen to the south, using the ditch as cover.
After two hours, Wilf called a halt on a piece of high ground next to a road. Now they were closer to their own lines, he hoped they could make contact with 1 BR Corps.
“Have you managed to get through?” asked Tag impatiently.
“Eventually,” responded Wilf. “We can still get a good signal from them, but our transmission to them is shite.”
“Fuckers keep pulling back,” growled Badger.