Recognising how critical this counter-attack was to the entire defence of not only NORTHAG but also the entire Allied Forces Central, AFCENT, front line, two squadrons of A-10 Warthogs had been assigned. Although both squadrons were down from eighteen to fewer than eleven aircraft each, using a stretch of the Autobahn east of Bielefeld as their runway, they inflicted devastation on any enemy armour that dared to show its face. To prevent retaliation by Soviet fighters, US fighters had been sent to provide combat air patrols. Deep strikes were also sanctioned. Two squadrons of Tornado GR1s, sixteen aircraft in total, struck at the 20th Guards Army positions, adding to the disruption caused by the recent tactical nuclear strikes. They paid a heavy price though: four were lost through the ever-increasing umbrella of surface-to-air missiles being thrown forward by the Soviet Stavka. But more attacks followed, maintaining the pressure on the Soviet ground forces.
The 432 jolted and shook as it clattered down the slope of the bridge on the northern bank of the Weser, the engine labouring as the driver changed down to climb the steep bank once the armoured personnel carrier left the bridge. Dean was glad that his driver had survived, not just because he was one of his soldiers, but because he had been with the lieutenant during the battles around Coppenbrugge, so had been blooded like him. One of his sections had a new driver fresh out of training, replacing Rifleman Daly, killed during a chemical attack. In fact, the soldier’s training had been cut short, and he had only driven the battle taxi for a matter of a few hours. Prior to that, as a reservist with a home defence battalion, he had not even driven a Saxon, but was moved around in four-ton lorries. He would learn, and learn quickly.
Dean looked back; checking the rest of his platoon was sticking with him. The new driver, with Two-Section, was the third vehicle back, penned in the middle so, if he had problems, he wouldn’t be the last in the file and potentially get detached from the unit. Also, the front two sections would be required to react quickly should they come under fire. Dean cracked his side against the hatch opening as the 432 slewed to the left as it dipped into a shell crater. One of ours or one of theirs, thought Dean. It didn’t matter: both sides had been pounding each other for the last twenty-four hours.
Coming up out of the hole, the driver pulled on the left stick, applied some power, and caught up with the Chieftain forging ahead in front. Combat Team Alpha although reinforced were still below full strength. In fact, they were down to only eighty per cent of their original strength. The 2RGJ Battle Group had one key mission assigned to it: to protect the right flank of the line of attack as the 3rd Royal Tank Regiment Battle Group battled its way north-east. The crash of tank guns could be heard occasionally as 3RTR Chieftains came up against the T-80s of the 47th Guards Tank Division. The enemy had been caught completely on the hop.
Hercules aircraft flew overhead, flying as low as possible until the last minute, protected by a force of British and German Phantoms and British Hawk fighters. Once over their target, they would climb to the right altitude and release their cargo, 600 men of the British 1st Parachute Battalion, the reserve force of 24th Airmobile Brigade. Up until now, it had been the goal of the Soviet army to keep NATO forces on the hop, dropping multiple airborne units on and behind the lines, using Spetsnaz forces to create mayhem and disruption behind the NATO lines. Now it was the British army’s turn to give them a taste of their own medicine. The men of the parachute battalion would be dropped east of Wichtringhausen. Here, they could threaten the crossroads where the A2 crossed the 65; more disruption of Soviet reinforcements moving west, and a thorn in the side of 20th Guards Army.
3RTR continued to fight its way towards Springe, bowling over unit after unit, taking the local military commanders completely by surprise. The Soviet airwaves were awash with panic, calls for help and assistance. Over-reporting the strength of the enemy to compensate for their failures, the unit commanders added to the confusion that was overloading their divisional headquarters who in turn passed their concerns and confusion to army headquarters and so on. Although the Soviet army had modernised somewhat, they were still generally dependent, on set-piece manoeuvres; only the OMGs having a longer leash. But, for the follow-on forces from the 20th Guards Army and the Military Districts, the leash was much tighter. With the map covered in flashes where small actions were being fought, arrows showing large movements of enemy troops, circles where parachutists, heliborne landings and acts of sabotage had been reported, Stavka were at a loss. Many of the actions reported were out of date as the British forces had long gone, but back in the depths of the concrete bunkers, the maps of the commander of the Group of Soviet Forces Germany, looked more like a mosaic. As a consequence, reinforcements were diverted, but often to the wrong locations, supplies were delayed or redirected, and the picture grew more ambiguous.
Having spilt up, a squadron from 3RTR led 2RGJ through the gap between the high ground of Eichberg and Shecken, the retreating Soviets leaving a trail of dust as they ran. An ambush took out one of the accompanying Scimitars and two of their Chieftains, but an attack by B-Company, 2RGJ, cleared the way. On arrival at the crossroads south of Behrensen, the 3RTR squadron sped north to link up with its regiment. Here at Behrensen, HQ, Support-Company and C–Company went about the business of digging in, while B-Company headed east to Coppenbrugge and A-Company south to Bisperode. The remaining two reconnaissance tanks were despatched east and west of their location, very much searching for a needle in a haystack.
Two-Platoon started their preparations to defend the small village, and the Milan teams were deployed along with the 438s. The OC stood next to Dean’s 432.
“Dean, I’m making some changes. If you take a look at our position.” The OC scraped some patterns in the soil. “Three-Platoon will be with us first thing in the morning, whether they’re ready or not. We need more men.”
Dean looked around at the high ground each side of them and the vast open space of farmed fields to their south. “Makes sense, sir. A battalion would be better though.”
“I know, Dean, but we don’t have a battalion. If 20th Armoured Brigade are released, they will take over and push south and east.”
“What’s the trigger for their release, sir?”
“Success, Dean, success. A bit of a catch-22. They are in position just in case the counter-attack is a failure, which I understand. Yet, if they were in the fight now, we’d have a much better chance. Anyway.” The OC scraped some more lines in the dust patch. “Losing that Scimitar has left us blind, so I’m changing your platoon’s role.” He tapped the two extended oval markings either side the long stretch that represented the road. “I’ve already contacted the recce, and they will hold for you. I want one of your sections with each Scimitar, and they are to pass along the entire length of the high ground. Once they are opposite Route 425, they can hold. The recce boys can then complete some roving patrols. The same thing the other side. Here.” He tapped the crossroads to the south. “This is where I want you, and one of your sections. That way, you will have some control over the sections that will be either side of your position. But you are not to hold. It’s not a defensive position. I just need a warning of any enemy movement. Clear?”