“Herr Major.”
“Klaus, I have an update for you.” The Bundeswehr major placed a map on the bonnet of the Jeep. “The large manoeuvres planned by NORTHAG are in progress.”
Hauptmann Faeber leant over and followed his senior officer’s pointing finger.
“There’s a major artillery strike on the enemy here,” he held his finger over a length of the River Weser from Porta Westfalica to Petershagen, “along with two major air-to-ground strikes. They are in support of a major counter-attack, consisting of a British Division and a US Brigade.”
“Not using our reserve Brigade, then?”
“No, not now the Americans have got here.”
“Any more intelligence on the tactical nuke strikes, Herr Major?”
“They have done their job, Klaus, but we’re waiting for the Soviets to retaliate. If they are going to then it will definitely be during the counter-attack. We’ve been ordered keep our forces well dispersed. You are to take your platoon to this location.”
Hauptmann Faeber looked at the major quizzically. “What if they use their strikes as an opportunity to launch an attack against us?”
“If we get hit by tactical nuclear missiles, and we’re not in some decent cover and widely dispersed, we won’t have a battalion left.”
While they had been talking, an eight-wheeled Luchs, an armoured reconnaissance vehicle with a 20mm gun mounted in its turret, sped past. Following behind were four Marder armoured infantry fighting vehicles (AIFVs), mounted with their deadly remote-controlled machine gun along with the Milan anti-tank guided missile system. They drove quickly, not wanting to draw fire from any Soviet unit on the opposite bank. The growl of engines slowly diminished as they left the Leopard tank and the two officers behind. One swung right, heading for the hedge line overlooking the road, the other continued on. The mechanised infantry platoon would reinforce the tanks already here; providing the tanks with cover should they experience an assault by enemy infantry.
“The Infantry will be pulled back as well at the appointed time,” the Major informed Faeber.
“Are we leaving anybody to watch the river?”
“Of course, Klaus. If they want to cross here, they can soon land an airborne assault. If they hold it long enough, they could very quickly ferry more troops across and then they have the beginnings of a bridgehead. We’ll leave some reconnaissance troops all along the riverbank and, should they make that attempt, you will be ordered forward.”
Klaus looked at the map. “From these deep protection positions, we could be back here within fifteen minutes.”
“We have a quick reaction force from the rest of the battalion, who could be here in ten. There’s also a company of Fallschirmjager, within a ten-minute helicopter flight, on standby.”
“Swapping parachutes for helicopters.” Klaus smiled.
“It doesn’t make them any less crazy,” laughed the major.
“Are we expecting them to attack along this stretch, sir?”
“Again, I am only surmising. The British are already advancing from their staging areas around the west of Minden and Petershagen.” He spun the map around so Klaus could see where he was pointing. “The Soviets are already across the Weser. It’s possible they may also attack furhter north.”
“Hit the Dutch.”
“Maybe. With the Soviet army crossing between Minden and Petershagen, they’ll want to put some pressure elsewhere along the front. There is as good a place as any.”
“Then why don’t we do the same?”
“Do what?”
“Counter-attack. Take the bloody fight to them.”
The major clapped him on the back. “Hauptmann Klaus,” he laughed. “We’ll make a battalion commander of you yet.”
“We’ve been either digging in or running. It’s about time we did what we’ve been trained to do: fire and manoeuvre.”
Lieutenant Dahlman ordered the soldier to open fire, and the 25mm cannon blasted the upper windows of the building opposite. After about twenty rounds, the YPR-765 armoured infantry fighting vehicle quickly reversed back down the street, just as a rocket-propelled grenade (RPG) struck the building they were next to, sending a deluge of bricks and mortar crashing down onto the street. The battalion, responsible for this section of the River Weser, had been playing cat and mouse with the troops opposite for the last couple of days. The Soviets had been probing, looking for opportunities to get soldiers across to the other side of the river that transited through this major West German city. It was proving wearing for both sides and the 42nd Pantserinfantriebrigade had been sent in to replace the Canadian Brigade that had initially been responsible for the city’s defence. The 1st Netherlands Corps was recovering from the brunt of the attack by the 1st Polish Army, and expected a renewed attack by either the Polish or elements of the Soviet Guards Army at any moment. The Polish army had been very quiet, parts of it still recovering from the tactical nuclear strike. They were aware of the nuclear strikes, and that the Dutch Government had agreed to them as their own troops had suffered badly as a consequence of the chemical attacks.
All they could do now was wait: wait for the outcome of NORTHAG’s counter-attack; wait for the Warsaw Pact’s response.
Chapter 35
Corporal Farre, the gunner for Four-Alpha, was sitting right of the breech of the Challenger’s 120mm gun; behind him, the legs of his platoon commander, Lieutenant Barrett. Farre looked through his periscope tank laser sight, the distance displayed for both the gunner and commander showing 2,100 metres as the first of the Soviet T-80s appeared between the villages of Diekerort and Isenstedt to the south. Two troops of Challengers were just inside the trees of the wooded area south of Espelkamp. The Regiment’s Scorpions had probed the area ahead of the slowly advancing forces and had managed to escape unseen. They were able to report the enemy movement.
Barrett did a quick 180-degree search, looking for any sign of the Soviet’s dreaded Hinds. That was the one weapon he feared, having seen the destruction they were capable of delivering whilst his unit defended the River Leine. There was a Tracked Rapier unit somewhere behind and, closer, two or three units with Blowpipe, the shoulder-launched surface-to-air missile. But he knew that the attack-helicopters would be hard to hit and, more importantly, hard to bring down. What he wasn’t to know was that the Soviet battalion commander, lashed by his divisional and regimental commanders in turn, had urged his men forward, but had lost his bearings. As a consequence, he was sending a company of tanks forward south of where four Hind-Ds were heading for; to provide the much-needed support for the Soviet troops that were in danger of being encircled.
“Four-Four call signs. Hold until they’re all out in the open.”
“Two thousand metres. They’re picking up speed,” informed Farre.
“Roger.”
Farre watched his target move, it had already been agreed which one they would target first, along with the second and third if they got the chance. The computerised sighting system assimilated the information from the laser rangefinder with that of the moving target, calculating and setting the lay of the main gun.
“Get ready,” advised the commander.