The stocky general pointed at Colonel Yuri Kharzin, Commander of the 48th Guards Tank Regiment. “We march out to our new assembly area on the night of the fifth, tucking in behind the 7th and the 10th as they assault NATO’s lines. I want your unit to move out first, Yuri. If we are to exploit any breakthroughs, we must be close enough to press forward. Your regiment will move out at dusk today, putting you in a position to take over an assembly area west of the Elbe. The rest of the division will follow you during the night of the fifth.”
“Yes, Comrade General, we will be ready.”
“Good. Make sure Colonel Kharzin has a supply unit to support him.”
“Yes, Comrade General,” responded the commander of the supply battalion.
The general turned to the Deputy Commander ‘Rear’, who was sitting to his right. “Our ammunition stocks complete, Borislav?”
“Yes, Comrade General.”
“Good, good. Akim, your foot sloggers will be first in line of march when we move on the fifth. Your BMPs?”
Akim Yermakion, Commander of the 200th Guards Motor Rifle Regiment, grinned as he responded, used to the mickey-taking by a unit consisting largely of tank units. The only infantry unit alongside the three tank regiments, he was often at the centre of their jokes. “Yes, Comrade General, our spares situation has been resolved, thanks to Colonel Yolkin.”
“Been throwing your political weight about, Comrade Colonel?” Turbin said to the skinny Political Officer with a chortle.
“It is always my intention to ensure that our division is ready to do whatever it is asked of it by our masters, Comrade General.”
The reference to the army commanders and above, who directed their lives and actions, didn’t go unnoticed by the Bear.
“So all operational, then?”
The young colonel didn’t need to refer to any notes as he responded proudly. “Ninety-three are fully operational, Comrade General.”
The general moved on. “We know roughly where our area of operation will be, but we won’t know for certain until our first operational echelon has beaten down the NATO covering force and started to eat into their main battle area. So, we will need to be flexible. We are a unique unit. An operational manoeuvre group is exactly that: manoeuvrable. We need to be able to weave our way through their defences, taking the line of least resistance, pushing west until we can move at will in their rear areas, tearing up their communications centres, logistics and supplies, and disrupting any reserves before they arrive in theatre.”
“Comrade General, has it been agreed who our operationally subordinate reinforcements will be?” Asked the Chief of Rocket and Artillery Troops.
“Yes,” responded General Turbin. “You will get a brigade of BM-27s from the TVD. They will be supporting the initial assault. Then they’ll be assigned to your Divisional Artillery Group (DAG). Along with those, we’ll have a regiment of 2S5s and most of the DAG from whichever division we pass through. Major Lagoshin.”
“Sir.”
“The front’s air defence brigade will be providing us with a SAM regiment so we’ll have additional overhead cover. You will need to set up comms with their command elements within the next eight hours.”
“Sir.”
“Major Zakrevsky.”
“Yes, Comrade General.”
“I need you to initiate communications with the fighter-bomber division. I will give you the details later. We’ve been promised at least 100 sorties during our initial commitment to battle. We shall be depending on those links to get the support in the right place at the right time.”
“My men will be ready, sir.”
“Good, good. One last thing then I want to speak to each of the commanders on their own. During our first day of battle, we will have the airborne prima donnas and a few other assets backing us up.” The general laughed at his own joke and was joined by the rest of the officers. He lit another cigarette before stubbing out his current one in a blue china cup in front of him. He took a deep, satisfying draw and blew out a cloud of smoke.
“I have been promised a heliborne assault brigade, a river-crossing battalion, along with an engineer pontoon battalion to support our own engineer battalion. I also have a second commitment from the fighter-bomber boys, up to 200 sorties for the first day of battle.”
He pushed the bottle of vodka across to Colonel Dorokhin, Commander of the 353rd Guards Tank Regiment. “Turin, top our glasses up.”
The thirty year-old colonel picked up one of the bottles on the table and, helped by Colonel Tsaryov of the 332nd Regiment, topped up the empty glasses all the officers were now holding. Once completed, the general pushed his chair back and stood up, his officers following suit. He raised his small chipped glass in the air. “To our motherland, to our Uman Division. Za Vas!”
“Za Vas!” they all responded in unison.
“Our political officer has something to say. Then the briefing is over and I will see you all individually. The floor is yours, Arkaldy.”
The two officers, dressed in camouflaged, one-piece coveralls, a blue and white horizontally striped shirt beneath, walked and talked near one of the aircraft aprons at Cochstedt Airport, situated thirty-kilometres south-west of the city of Magdeburg. The airport was built in 1957, as a Soviet Air Force Base, now one of the many forward bases being used for the impending attack on the West. The two men were airborne officers, the VDV (Vozdushno — Desantyne Voyska) blue and white striped shirt confirming their elite status. Their conversation was loud, as the activity in and around the airport was feverish.
There was the basson sound of the aero engines of the Illyushin II troop-carrying aircraft as they reached take-off speed. A steady stream of aircraft had been arriving and leaving the airfield ever since the 108th Guards Airborne Regiment had arrived: a mixture of AN-12 Cubs and AN-22 Cocks. There were even a couple of AN-124 Condors, barely in service with the Soviet Air Force. Although capable of carrying over 100 tons of cargo, it was not really suitable for carrying paratroopers due to pressurisation issues. Many of the aircraft had Aeroflot markings, commandeered for use by the military. The other side of the airport was swamped with a range of different helicopters, the whop-whop of rotor blades caused as a consequence of the manually induced noise from the main gearbox and transmission chains along with the main and tail rotors slicing through the air. There were Mi-2 Hoplites, small, lightly armed transport helicopters, capable of carrying eight passengers and used in close-air support. But, at the moment, they were being utilised as taxis, ferrying senior officers around as the tension and planning built up in readiness for the strike that they now knew was a matter of days away.
Bigger helicopters were also on the move, the Mi-8 Hips, able to carry twenty-four combat troops or play a significant role in close-air support, its two stub wings supporting four weapons pylons capable of carrying rocket pods, anti-tank missiles or machine guns. Heavyweight Hooks had also started to arrive but, as yet, none of the newer Mi-26 Halo.
The two airborne officers held a hand on top of their pale blue headgear as they moved closer to the activity. They were part of the 108th Guards Regiment, their mother division being the 7th Guards Airborne, based in Kaunas, Lithuania. They had been notified of the intended attack on the West and had received a warning order for the role they would have to play. Once the flow of the battle was apparent to the TVD command, their airborne unit, along with the rest of the division and many others, would be assigned targets well behind enemy lines. They didn’t as yet know what theirs would be: Securing a bridge, high ground or blocking a supply route. Whatever it was, the Soviet Union had a significant airborne force at its disposal to make life very difficult for NATO.