The nav-radar officer spoke to the pilot. “Standby for height demand, coming up on Melle.”
“Roger.”
One of the consequences of the bomber’s poor manoeuvrability at low-level was a delay in the controls responding to an NOE demand. The pilot was always given a warning of when the aircraft needed to be pulled up or dropped down.
The nav-plotter adjusted his body until comfortable, lying prone in his position at the lower part of the cockpit from where he would release the bombs. The ground raced past beneath him, the Vulcan barely 100 metres above ground level.
The aircraft captain looked across at his co-pilot and nodded. Nothing needed saying. The AEO would warn them of any SAM radars scanning the skies. The aircraft’s variegated pattern of greys and greens making it difficult for the higher-flying Soviet fighters to see them. Hopefully the land clutter would interfere with their lookdown radars. Soon, the rapidly retreating British forces would be beneath the bomb bays of the Vulcan bombers. Release too soon and the attack bombers would devastate an already battered force. Release too late and they would miss their target, the advancing Soviet army that smelt the blood of victory as they howled after their withdrawing enemy.
Chapter 22
The four Lynx Mark 7 helicopters, flying at low level in pairs, followed two Gazelle helicopters that would act as spotters, one for each pair. The pairs separated, moving towards their starting points. Once there, they would wait. The Gazelles, ahead of the TOW armed helicopters, maintaining radio silence, drifted apart, ready to cover a front of two or three kilometres. Their job was to watch and wait. Higher command would have to assume that the Helarm was in position. The helicopters would remain where they were until they received the coded signal to move to their firing positions and unleash their anti-tank weapons.
On receiving the relevant code word from divisional headquarters, the twenty-four M109s of the three batteries of the 27th Field Regiment, Royal Artillery, pulled out of the wooded areas they had been hiding in. The forest tracks were churned up as the twenty-seven-ton self-propelled artillery came out into the clearings that had already been recce’d, positions for each battery marked out and ready. Then they had to wait for the order from higher headquarters. Timing was critical. The 155mm cannons would soon be firing dual-purpose, improved conventional munitions, DPICMs, onto the enemy, the aim to cripple their advance as they chased after the retreating British unit. This regiment was part of the 4th Armoured Division. They were rested and rearmed after fulfilling their role as the covering force for 1 British Corps. Once the 27th had completed their task, the 47th Field Regiment, their sister unit, would lay a carpet of scatterable mines, FASCAMs, across the route any remaining enemy tanks would take. All they could do now though, was wait. Wait for the next code word authorising their fire mission.
The BMP-2s bounced across the open ground. The motor rifle troops in the cramped troop compartments at the rear tensed their bodies yet allowed themselves to be rocked from side to side rather than fighting against the motion. The vanguard of tanks from the 1st Tank Battalion, having crushed the British defenders, a Territorial Army unit, forcing them to flee towards their last bastion, the River Weser, pushed west. A motor rifle company, following two companies of T-80, raced after the enemy forces, their masters pushing them hard, willing them to catch up with the battered British unit and destroy it before it could get to safety on the western bank of this next natural barrier. The Royal Royal Anglian battalion, a Territorial Army unit, hadn’t stood a chance: practically pounded into submission after repeated artillery and air-to-ground strikes. On the other hand, the tank battalion of over twenty T-80 main battle tanks, supported by a motor rifle company from the regiment’s motor rifle battalion, had suffered minor casualties, losing only three tanks and two BMPs. One of the tanks had been halted due to a lost track, attempting to negotiate around the collapsed flyover east of Rinteln, destroyed by British engineers. Soviet engineers in turn had been pushed forward to clear a route. Once past the blockage, west of a large quarry south of the Autobahn, they could press on. The Soviet tank crews had exhibited no signs of pretence that they were advancing carefully. Engines raced, powering the forty-two ton giants as they crashed through treelines and crushed wooden fences, and even a small barn was partly demolished in their haste to close the gap. The whip had been cracked, and an entire battalion, along with additional supporting forces, was racing for the gap created by the retreating army.
Yes, they suspected a trap. Their regimental and divisional headquarters expected a trap. But they were confident that there were too few enemy troops to make much of an impact, particularly as they were reserve troops, civilians in uniform, they had been told by their political officers. They would be no match for the forces of the Motherland. The defence put up by the British had surprised the Soviet vanguard. Despite being hit by a forty-minute artillery and missile barrage, followed up with an attack by ground-attack aircraft, the soldiers of the Royal Anglians had still given the Soviets a bloody nose, but had suffered heavy casualties themselves. It was questionable as to whether or not they could have survived a second assault of that magnitude, but they were never asked to find out.
The Soviets were walking into a trap, but not one they were expecting. The British TA unit had withdrawn at precisely the right time: at a time when a second, probably stronger, assault by the Soviet forces was expected.
Colonel Barbolin, commander of 197th GTR, ordered his advance battalion, along with the motor rifle company, to push forward, follow the autobahn and cross the gap over the Wesergebirge, then head west for Lohfeld. His second battalion and the motor rifle company, which he was leading, the battalion commander killed earlier, would follow. Once through the gap, they would target Mollbergen and his third battalion, with the remaining motor rifle company, would secure Eisbergen to the south. His regiment would then be within four to five kilometres of the River Weser to the west.
26th Tank Regiment had a different mission. Close behind, once the way was clear, they would follow across the high ground of the Wesergebirge, using the A2 Autobahn, and head straight for Porta Westfalica. 47th Guards Tank Division’s mission was not to attempt to cross the Weser but to go through the motions of preparing to do so between Porta Westfalica in the north and Vlotho in the south. The purpose was to increase the pressure on the British forces. Should a crossing prove possible, and higher command allowed it, the division could project its forces across the river.
Barbolin contacted his forward battalion, keen to ensure that he and the second battalion weren’t dropping too far behind. “One-Zero, this is Zero-Alpha. What is your position? Over.”
There was a five-second delay before any response.
“One-Zero… crackle… north Luhden… Crossroad’s a mess… suggest you… north Buchholz….Over.”
“Engineers at location? Over.”
“Yes, but… crackle… need time. Over.”