Merritt pulled on the controls, pushing the engine throttles forward, powering the engines, taking the aircraft into a full power climb, banking round to the right, inwardly wincing, waiting for a response from someone down below.
“Hotel-Zero. Romeo-One-One. Red light, red light.”
The code word for the strike had now been sent. Now it was time to head for home, picking up a refuelling Victor on the way back, and then a plate of bacon and eggs.
The forty-ton T-80 flipped over, the blast from the 450kg bomb making light work of brushing the behemoth aside. Although shaken badly, with the driver suffering a broken leg, the crew actually survived, their only hope a rescue by their comrades at some point in the future. A second T-80 was torn asunder, the turret ripped from the turret ring, the crew’s bodies also rent apart.
Kovrov could only listen over the radio, the screams of his tankers calling for help, help he was unable to provide. Nearly 30,000 kilograms of bombs had carpeted Kovrov’s battalion and the two behind it, destroying yet even more of his formation.
“All One-Zero call signs. Status? Over.”
He was met with just the crackle of his radio along with a background of unsquelched noise.
“Zero-Alpha, Zero-Alpha. One-Zero. Over.”
“Zero-Alpha… report… under… heavy… air… attack.”
“One-Zero call signs have not responded. Orders. Over.”
“Cx… yx… Alpha….”
Contact with his regiment had been lost. Unknown to Kovrov, a second flight of Vulcans had dropped their bombs right on top of the 3rd Battalion, destroying eleven armoured vehicles, wiping out Barbolin’s T-80K. 197th GTR was rapidly being depleted, and it was questionable as to whether there would be enough time for it to ever recover and reform to become an effective fighting unit again. The forward regiment was then given a reprieve as the last three Vulcans deposited their deadly cargo on the second tank regiment. The regiment that was closing in on the stalled Soviet forward unit, pushed on by its leaders, was not to escape the onslaught. The 450kg bombs landed amongst the compacted force. More T-80s met the same fate as those up front, a tank and Infantry Company all but destroyed. As the closeness of the funnelled tanks and BMPs prevented individual vehicles from racing away from the area of destruction, a flight of German Tornadoes and British Jaguars picked off tank after tank. Allied fighter aircraft overhead had a run-in with the Soviet air force racing to the defence of their stricken comrades below. It was a short-lived fight, the British fighters having to withdraw after losing three of their aircraft. But the ground-attack aircraft, joined by six Harriers, had caused havoc amongst the targets they had been given before they too, losing only two planes, had withdrawn from the fight, leaving the two major elements of 47th Guards Tank Division to lick their wounds.
The Vulcans, taking advantage of the distraction created, left the area. Only one aircraft was lost, that due to mechanical failure, the crew parachuting to safety behind their own lines. A second was to be lost over the English Channel, taking a Victor tanker with it after a collision caused by a lack of concentration for a few seconds by one of the weary pilots.
Kovrov pushed open the hatch. A sea of destruction as far as his eye could see surrounded him. Burning hulks lay strewn across what was once arable farmland. The food being grown to feed the German population was now burnt, tainted and blackened. The silence was overpowering after the constant hammer of anti-tank missiles, artillery shells, and now the bombers had finished their run. There was little sound, other than the occasional crackling of small-calibre rounds set off by the white-hot heat as the T-80s burned. His gunner joined him in the turret, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. One minute, he was part of an effective powerful battalion, an element of a much larger and more powerful force; then he was in the centre of a scrapyard, the might of the Soviet army immobile, many of the crew dead or dying.
“What do we do, sir?”
“We need to assess the damage, see if we can get back on the road,” Kovrov said, tapping the armour of the tank. “We’ll be needed much sooner than we think.” His thoughts, dark and clouded earlier, brightened, despite the destruction that surrounded him. Blame could not be pinned on him for this. Perhaps he would get away from being a scapegoat after all.
Six kilometres away, the remnants of the TA battalion, keeping ahead of the now battered juggernaut, had a clear run to the Weser. They knew they had done a good job, but would be pleased to get to the relative safety across the fast-flowing waters. They were to find out later the consequence of their actions: the destruction of a major Soviet formation.
Chapter 23
What do you do if a Nuclear War occurs?
RED WARNING — There is an imminent danger of attack. This will be of a siren, consisting of a rising and falling note. If you are outside or driving a car, then park off the road as soon as possible. But do not park where you may obstruct emergency vehicles. Take cover in a building close by, or find a depression in the ground, or a ditch. If you are at home, turn off the gas, turn off any fuel oil and disconnect any electric heaters. Shut the windows and go to your fall-out room.
GREY WARNING — Fall-out expected within an hour. This will be a siren with an interrupted pitch, a continuous sound. If there is no siren nearby, you may hear the sound of church bells. If you are at home, complete any last-minute preparations, such as turning off the gas, fuel oil, water supply at the stopcock, and tie up the ballcock in the WC cistern. If outdoors, get home if possible. If not, seek safer surroundings before the fall-out comes down.
BLACK WARNING — Imminent danger of fall-out. Maroon flare, gong or whistle sounding a morse code ‘D’. Dash… Dot… Dot. If you are at home, you must go immediately to your fall-out shelter. If you are outdoors and away from your home, you must immediately seek the best cover available. If there is no warning, the first thing you will experience is a blinding flash of light and heat lasting up to twenty seconds. This will be followed by the blast wave. Do not look at the flash and fling yourself down immediately and take cover.
The lead vehicle turned onto the main road, the Prime Minister’s Jaguar following suit. Behind her, a second vehicle with the rest of her close protection team followed. The convoy drove at speed. The country was at war, and there had already been an attempted assassination on the Home Secretary and a senior army general. Fortunately, both attempts had failed, but the Spetsnaz sleeper teams had come very close. There was a real concern for the security of Prime Minister and the Secretary of State for Defence. Military Intelligence Department 5, commonly known as MI5, had warned that they couldn’t guarantee that all sleeper teams within the country had been accounted for. They were certain that some groups had been landed, probably covertly by Soviet submarine, on the mainland, and were waiting for the appropriate opportunity to strike again. Both MI5 and the Ministry of Defence had insisted the PM had additional security, but she had resisted, advocating that too much security would only draw attention to her location. With very little choice, they had climbed down, but her close protection team had been increased to six officers.