The Bear, far from being a patient taskmaster, drove his commanders and his soldiers relentlessly. The Territorial Battalion to his front just crumbled, and the tough paratroopers to the north, although they fought bravely and at times almost fanatically, were no match for the ever increasing number of infantry combat vehicles and tanks. They were quickly rolled up as more and more troops poured across. The Bear knew that there was a third British battalion ahead of him, but he’d received reports that, under attack from Soviet airborne troops from the front and back, they were being withdrawn, probably before they were completely surrounded and overrun. He was surprised at the state of the British defence. Where was their armour? Where was the American unit that was designated as a NORTHAG reserve? Had it been sent to support the Dutch and Germans to the north? The Bear had raised it with his superiors, but he had been slapped down and told, in no uncertain terms, that his division was to do what it had been selected for: take advantage of a weakness in the enemy’s defence, exploit it and push for the coast. They had reminded him that units of the 20th Guards Army were close behind him, and as soon as a fresh unit could bypass their advance division, recovering from the consequences of a tactical nuclear strike, he would have the reinforcements he needed. Before he could respond, reminding them that it was becoming a traffic jam back there, he was reminded of his mission and the connection was broken.
Now, up to six kilometres west of the river, one of his battalions was pushing west, and another northwest, smashing through the remnants of 6RRF when the British artillery struck. With two MTLB command vehicles back to back, a tent covering the gap in between, the Bear screamed down the radio at his commanders.
“Dorokhin, I don’t care if you’re being shelled, just keep moving. You have to take Diepenau.”
“We are moving, sir, but we’re being hit regularly by their artillery.”
“If you keep on the move, get close to their lines. They will have to stop.”
Colonel Dorokhin, commander of the 353rd Guards Tank Regiment, paused before responding. “We have been struck by NATO missiles. The sub munitions have crippled one of my companies. I am moving around them now. Over.”
“Just take Diepenau. I’m sure you don’t want me to replace you with another officer, or even come down there and take command myself. Out. Tsaryov, Tsaryov, where are you? Report. Over.”
“Sir. Just hit a British headquarters pulling out of Hille. Finishing them off. Over.”
“Tsaryov, don’t you listen to your orders? Leave them. Get your tanks moving. I want you in Frotheim by midday and Espelkamp occupied soon after. Do you understand? Over.”
“Yes, sir… we are being… hit by heavy… ”
“Come in, Tsaryov. Over.”
“Sorry, sir. The British are throwing everything at us.”
“Understood. You have your orders. Out.”
The political officer and deputy commander, Colonel Yolkin, popped his head through the tent flap.
“I’ve been listening to the transmissions, Comrade General. They don’t seem capable of giving us the victory our Politburo is demanding.”
The Bear lit up a cigarette and turned to his deputy. “Well, you’ll get a chance to find out for yourself. I’m going further forward and you’re coming in with me.”
“But… but—”
“No buts, Yolkin, that’s an order.” The Bear spat out a piece of tobacco. “You are, believe it or not, a Soviet officer and you will obey my orders. If you don’t, I’ll have you shot. We leave in thirty minutes. Now, get out!”
The political officer paled before withdrawing his head from the flap and leaving to prepare for his excursion to the front. He was shaking.
More salvos descended in the area, and the Bear looked up, as a rolling barrage appeared to be less than a kilometre from his position. Taking another pull on his cigarette, he reflected on the situation. He knew he would need to contact headquarters again soon, and it wouldn’t be pleasant. Something was worrying him, though. The NATO forces’ artillery bombardment was proving ferocious. His bridgehead was clogged with logistics vehicles bringing forward ammunition and fuel. His forward units had to get to grips with the enemy so he could start prioritising his own artillery strikes. At the moment, they were firing blind. He had screamed at his engineers to put more bridges across, and the GSPs were working flat out to bring more and more armour across. His two forward regiments still weren’t up to full strength. It was taking over an hour to get a battalion across, and he needed more crossing points if he was to bring forward his other two regiments. Although they were the weaker units, having been fighting almost constantly for days, he would feel happier having his entire division across the water. He didn’t have a lot of faith in the follow-up forces getting here quickly. Also, if the British shifted their fire to his bridgehead and river crossings, it could prove problematic. He needed to get to the front.
Chapter 34
The Leopard tank, a fifty-five-ton Leopard 2, powered by its liquid-cooled 47.6 litre V-12 engine, hummed as the driver eased it forward into the brush ahead of him. It rocked forward gently as the driver made some minor changes to the tank’s position, guided by his tank commander. The glacis of the German main battle tank barely poked its nose through the hedge line, some of the shrubs slightly higher than the top of the turret. The commander still had a good view overlooking the River Weser and the road, the 215 that ran north to south, less than 500 metres on the other side. Hauptmann Faeber ordered his crew to camouflage the tank well, using some of the foliage close by. To their left, fifty metres away, a second tank pulled into position. Although this stretch of the river had been defended over a number of days, the previous occupants had been pulled back after being battered by Soviet heavy artillery and air strikes. Decent defences had been dug, and they would move to those once an assault river crossing started. In the meantime, they would remain mobile, mitigating in some small way the threat of a regular pounding from the Soviet artillery. The Soviets were bringing more and heavier artillery forward, such as 203mm self-propelled artillery and 240mm mortars. He made a note to get the engineers forward all the same, and dig some new berms along the length of his patch, so at least they would have some ready-made positions close by to drive into.
He dropped down from turret, onto the engine deck, and descended onto the remnants of a cornfield that bordered the hedge line.
The gunner moved the turret left and right, checking that the barrel of the 120mm smoothbore main gun was clear to move in a full arc. One final sweep and he was happy that nothing would get in the way should they need to fire.
A DKW Munga F 91/8 Jeep pulled up alongside, and a Bundeswehr officer stepped out, calling Hauptmann Faeber over. The driver of the Jeep also got out and crossed over to the tank to talk with the crew and perhaps acquire a cigarette, his having been lost during the last retreat.