When he'd been a young Lieutenant, Ulyanov had seen the Americans fight and marveled at the way they could switch their artillery from target to target, massing and dispersing their fire as the situation required. The Russian system couldn't match that but it was better than nothing. And there were always the Battleships. They had explosive ammunition for their big guns as well as armor piercing bolts.
Ulyanov took a last look round before he crested the ridge and passed the jump-off line. The weather was far from ideal, there was a heavy overcast and the sun was hidden. But, his battalion was moving forward fast, the seven tanks of his first company on the left, the seven tanks of the other on the right. Other T-10 battalions were on either side of him, surging forward to engage the German positions. From above they must look like speedboats racing across the sea, the dust clouds behind the tanks resembling the plumes of spray and the waving grass and bushes, the wake on the sea surface.
Behind the T-10s, Washingtons were getting ready to move forward as well, exploiting the hole that was to be formed in the German positions. Getting them there through the first line of the German defenses was the job of the heavy tanks, it was the T-10s that would have to absorb the first fury of the German defensive fire. Both the T-10s and the T-55s were carrying tankriders, tankodesantniki, who would dismount to kill the SS infantry in their positions.
Now, though, they had a different job, the heavy tanks were surging through overgrown grassland, the tangle of weeds and plants waist-high or more. The tankriders were crouched behind the turret and the auxiliary fuel tanks for cover but their AK-47s were constantly swinging from side to side. The long grass was perfect cover for tank hunters with Panzerfaust rocket launchers.
Once the good, rich black soil had been the finest farmland in Russia, the farms here had been the wheat basket for most of Europe. Then, the Germans had come, they'd killed the farm animals, destroyed the crops and left the people here to starve. Now, the derelict Fields could grow a deadlier crop. Like the one in front, a German soldier had suddenly risen from the grass, Panzerfaust aimed to fire. He never got the chance, Ulyanov's gunner cut him down with the coaxial machinegun. A split second later there was a slight, almost unnoticeable bump as the racing heavy tank ran over the body. Ulyanov though he heard a scream but it was probably just the tracks running over the steel return rollers.
Ahead, a stream of fire came from an almost invisible dip in the ground. A rocket, a big one with four large fins, Ulyanov could see a flare on each fin tip and the missile changing direction as its controller lined it up with its target. All 15 tanks in his battalion opened up with their machineguns at the source of the missile, their guns were loaded with tracer to maximize the effect of the converging cone of fire. “Alexei, Katya”
“On its way” came an emotionless voice. For a brief second, the missile flew normally, then went straight up, stalled and crashed. Before the gunners could launch another there was a roar overhead and a salvo of shells smashed into their position. The system worked then. That was good to know. Lucky the Germans had set up on one of the pre-planned points. The tank raced ahead for a few seconds then lurched as it nosed into the dip where the tank-hunter team had hidden Ulyanov couldn't hear them over the noise of the big diesel but he knew the tankriders would be spraying the position with full-automatic fire from their AKs.
The T-10 hit the other bank of the dip and climbed out, Anya fishtailing it so that the soft underbelly wouldn't be exposed. She'd been a tank driver now for two years, one of three women drivers in the battalion. She was a slightly-built woman but all those months of wrestling with the heavy controls of a T-10 had given her muscles a professional weightlifter would envy. Once, she'd punched out a rear-echelon maggot who had insulted her, breaking his jaw in five places.
Over on the left, a T-10 was staggering, black smoke boiling out of its engine hatches. Through the powerful optics built into his commander's position, Ulyanov could see beyond the damaged tank to a suspicious looking clump of shrubbery-Sure enough, close to the ground a long barrel was swinging to its next target, looking for ail the world like a snake sliding through the grass. He put his cross-hairs. He felt the turret swing as Vitali lined his sight up with the indicator from Ulyanov's command sight.
“Cucumber” “Up”
“Shoot!”
The 122 millimeter crashed, the brass cartridge case ejecting on the floor and the turret filling with acrid smoke. Sometimes it was hard to tell whether he'd fired or been hit. The green-painted high explosive round, called a cucumber by every Russian tankoviki, was already going downrange to the concealed PaK gun. Now was the dangerous moment; while he was dealing with the PaK, an unseen gun could deal with him. But, they were getting away with it, there were four explosions at the position, three other tanks must have spotted the gun and engaged. Then a big secondary and Ulyanov was able to get back watching for threats. They weren't long coming. Another tank, over on the right suddenly staggered and halted. No fires and the tankriders leapt off to form a perimeter around the stalled T-10. The crew were bailing out as well, the tankriders would protect them until the fate of their damaged tank was known. But where was the anti-tank gun that had done the deed?
Ulyanov felt his tank suddenly swerve and stop. An AP shot passed in front of them, so close that he fancied he could feel the wind of its passage through the heavy turret armor. Anya was still backing up, that shot had come from the right, where was that damned gun? Ulyanov scanned frantically, nothing. Then he slammed forward into the eyepiece of his commander's sight, if he lived he'd have a black eye tomorrow. The tank was already pivoting on its tracks, she'd slammed the transmission into neutral then pushed the tiller hard over. The left track had gone full ahead, the right track full reverse, spinning the tank to the right.
A good tank driver went by instinct, not careful thought and Anya had it. Her maneuvers dodged shots she couldn't possibly know were coming. The next had passed the T-10, a few centimeters to the left of the turret, if it hadn't been for the halt and turn it would have ploughed into their main fuel tank. But now Ulyanov had seen where the anti-tank gun was. The Germans were clever, very clever, they'd positioned the gun right back in the bushes so only its muzzle showed. But the same position meant the bushes were disturbed by the muzzle blast and he'd seen them move.
“Pickle”
“Up”
“Shoot!”
“Cucumber”
“Up”
“Shoot!”
The armor piercing bolt had torn into the shrubbery, hurling it away, the follow-up explosive round had blown the concealed gun apart. Ulyanov heard the co-axial machinegun firing as it cut the crew down, then the T-10 was rolling forward again. They were heading uphill now, towards the crest of the first ridge. He'd seen the sand table model of the ground while the plan of attack was being explained. The Sadovoye Ridge looked as if a giant had placed two hands on the table, fingers outstretched and interlocked. The “bodies” of the “hands” were two large hills defended by the SS infantry regiments. They were being pounded by artillery now, prior to an attack by the Frontniki. But the complex mass of ridges between them were the target of the tanks. That's where the German armor was waiting. Destroy that and the mobility of SS-Wiking was gone. That meant the day would be won.
The T-10 was laboring as it climbed the hill, it was a great tank for the fiat plains but its heavy weight of armor and gun meant it was underpowered. Already, Anya would be watching the temperature gauge climbing, she couldn't let the diesel overheat. They had to make it to the top of the first ridge, Phase Line Anatol, where they'd stop and let the heavy tanks cool. The Washingtons would be taking it from there, up to Phase Line Boris at least. So far, they'd only faced a skirmish line, Ulyanov estimated a company of infantry and a battery of anti-tank guns at most. But there would be German tanks on Anatol. Panzers. Or a reasonable imitation thereof.