“Understood, sir.”
The OC shook his hand. “Congratulations, Alex.”
“Thank you, sir.”
They both left the tent and walked over to Alex’s tank. The engine had been lowered into its compartment, and REME were going over the final connections, linking the power pack to the components that would get the tank mobile again.
“Ah, Corporal Patterson.” Patsy drew himself up to attention, arms by his sides. “Thank you for the tea.”
“Sir.”
“Now, I think Captain Wesley-Jones would like a word with you all.”
He turned to Alex. “Let me know the minute you have any equipment failures. We need to know what we’ve got available at all times.”
“Understood, sir.”
With that, Major Lewis left.
“Did he say captain, sir?”
“Yes, he did, Corporal Patterson. Now, gather the troop together. I want to talk to them.”
With a grin across his face, Patsy sped off, calling for the tank crews to form up. The REME LAD had finished for now, so the troop assembled next to Two-Alpha. The tank although now fully functional, at least once they’d done a road test with the new power pack, was still wearing its battle scars. Two-Charlie was in a similar state. Two-Bravo, on the other hand, was practically brand new, straight out of a workshop back in the United Kingdom. The new tank’s crew, apart from Trooper Lowe who was still the driver, and Trooper Wilson, the loader, were new, survivors from other elements of the regiment. Their tank had been destroyed, but they themselves had survived. Sergeant Andrews, platoon sergeant, with a head injury and a hand that had been badly crushed, was now back in the UK. Although still recovering from his injuries, he was still capable of training new replacements, allowing the healthy instructors to be assigned to units at the front. However, Lance Corporal Owen, the gunner, would not be fighting any more wars. He had been killed during the first artillery bombardment experienced by the Regiment in Gronau. The two new members of the troop had also lost their tank, loader and senior NCO, to a Soviet T-80.
The crews shuffled into position, finding somewhere to sit, either on the stump of a felled tree, a camping chair or pallet of supplies not yet broken down.
Alex looked at the expectant faces of his men. Some showed weariness and a little fear; some determination; others he couldn’t read. To a man, they were looking to him to lead them through the horrors that were going on around them, keep them safe and get them home to their families.
Alex’s crew were chatting, grins plastered across their faces, occasionally flicking their eyes in his direction. No doubt Corporal Patterson had filled the rest of the crew, Lance Corporal Mark Ellis, his loader, and the driver, Trooper ‘Mackey’ Mackinson, in on their troop commander’s promotion. He and his crew had bonded well during their recent battles, and the Chieftain Mark 5/3C had truly become their home.
Captain Wesley-Jones looked across at Acting-Sergeant Simpson. All were sipping mugs of tea that had miraculously arrived from somewhere. There was no doubt: the Boiling Vessel, BV, had a positive impact on the tank crews’ morale. This could possibly be their last hot drink for some time.
Alex shuffled his backside onto one of the track guard stowage bins, the foliage used for camouflage crackling beneath his weight, his booted feet dangling over the edge.
To his right was his crew. Sitting along the track guard of the tank opposite was Acting-Sergeant Simpson, tank commander of call sign Two-Bravo and the troop’s second-in-command; sitting alongside him his crew: Lance Corporal Wilson, newly promoted, his gunner, Trooper Wallis, new to the squadron, his loader, and Trooper Lowe, his driver. To his left was the newly promoted Corporal Moore, commander of call sign Two-Charlie, with his gunner Trooper Gregory, another replacement, loader Trooper Robinson and driver, Trooper Carter. These twelve men made up the crews for Bravo-Troop, B-Squadron of the 14th/20th King’s Hussars Regiment.
Before the captain could speak, Acting-Sergeant Simpson piped up. “On behalf of the troop, sir, we just want to congratulate you on your promotion.”
Alex blushed slightly, not yet used to his raised profile within the squadron. “And you, Sarn’t Simpson,” he responded. “We have finally received our orders, and our troop has a key role to play.”
He looked over their faces, not sure what he was seeing. Was it disappointment at having to fight again, or were they glad they would have an opportunity to hit back at the enemy?
He dropped down off the tank and unrolled a map that had been tucked under his arm. “Corporal Moore, grab that board we’ve been using as a table and bring it over.”
“Sir.”
“Wallis, Lowe, the small table next to the penthouse, bring it over,” ordered Moore.
The table was cleared, upended, and wedged up against the side of the Chieftain tank, resting at an angle where Alex could pin the map.
“Right, gather round before we lose the last of our light, and I’ll take you through what’s in store for us.”
The troop either dropped down from their tanks or shuffled in closer. It was very different from an exercise where there was feigned interest, just looking forward to ENDEX when they could get home for a shit, shave and shower, and sex if they were on talking terms with their wife or girlfriend, and then a drink with their buddies. But now, it was important that they listened and understood what was being asked of them. Otherwise, the consequences could be far-reaching.
“The time has come for us to hit back.”
“About time we give em some… make them pay for Owen,” came back some one of the comments.
The troop commander pinned up a BAOR road map, marked with sweeping red lines.
“We’re here, near Espelkamp, along with the rest of our Brigade. 12th Brigade is here to the north, west of Warmsen, and 7th Brigade here, Lubecke. Our American cousins have a brigade moving in southwest of Minden. On top of that, we have a Bundeswehr Brigade in reserve. The enemy, our friends from 3rd Shock Army, in particular 12th Guards Tank Division, are already at the River Weser, north of Minden. Intelligence tells us that the 12th Guards will try and force a crossing either between Minden and Petershagen or Petershagen and Stolzenau. Or both.”
“Aren’t 3-Shock feeling the pinch a bit now, sir?” asked Acting-Sergeant Simpson.
“They probably are, but the 12th and 47th Guards Tank Division will be using their second-echelon regiments, and they are pretty powerful. But, beyond them, there is a second army, 20th Guards, who haven’t been committed yet.”
“Are they close, sir?” Corporal Moore asked.
“Their headquarters have been plotted in the area of Bad Nenndorf, so I would imagine at least two of their divisions will be pushing forward. Our guess is that the 12th cross the river, push as deep as they can, and a division from the 20th exploit it.”
“Shit,” one of the troopers exclaimed.
“But this is where we come in, Gregory. We’re going to be the ones that stop them. You have all listened to rumour control and heard—”
“And felt, sir,” added Sergeant Simpson.
“…and felt the nuclear strikes. The Polish and East German armies have been hit in the north with 20th Guards in our sector. The Americans have also struck back at the Soviet reserves in their area.”
“Is that why we’re so widely dispersed?” asked Sergeant Simpson.
“Yes it is. But we did inform the Soviet Politburo of the strike and the reasons behind it, as I briefed you earlier. It is hoped that they will see sense. As to the bigger picture for us, 4th Armoured Division, now recovered, rearmed and reinforced, will hit the enemy from the south, pushing up through and around Rehren, striking for Bad Nenndorf.”