Wilf was sitting at the RC-319 radio transceiver, the electronic message unit in his hands. They had just received a burst transmission: the news not good.
“Guys, they’ve gone and done it! The fuckers have come across the border!”
Tag and Badger, at a crouch, moved to the main body of the T-shaped mexe-hide, the stalk of the T.
“Hacker, Hacker, get over here,” called Tag.
Hacker was off stag, getting some kip cocooned in his maggot, his long green sleeping bag.
“What is it, you wanker? It’d better be something good. Is she blonde?”
“The Russkies have attacked. They’ve crossed the border. They’re on their way,” Badger informed Hacker.
Hacker was out of his bag and joined his three comrades, all cramped at the one end of the shelter, within seconds. “Tell me they fucking haven’t.”
In the dim light of the shelter, he could see Wilf nodding his head. “I doubt we have twelve hours, twenty-four at the most. I want a full kit check; then I’ll man the radio and Hacker, you cover the scope. It provides a good view now I’ve cleaned it. Tag, Badger, you get some kip, a full four hours. Then we’ll do the same. I doubt we’ll get much sleep for some time so let’s rest now.”
“I’ll make us a brew first,” offered Tag. “Not sure I can sleep just yet.”
“I can’t believe they’ve gone and done it,” added Hacker.
“Well, they’ll get what they deserve then, won’t they,” chuntered Badger. “They’ll get a bloody good kicking. Then we’ll come up behind them and meet them on the way back.”
“Badger, the one-man army.” Wilf laughed. “OK, brew, kip, then a briefing. Once we know the extent of their penetration, we can decide on our next set of actions. Make mine hot and sweet.”
“Just like your women,” offered Tag as he crawled back down the tunnel to make a brew.
Wilf’s team was one of many corps patrol units scattered around West Germany. Armed to the teeth, a variety of explosives at their disposal and the knowledge of how to use them, they would be a headache for the occupying forces. They would also be the eyes and ears of 1 Br Corps, amongst other assets, providing them with live, up-to-date intelligence that could be used to help Northern Army Group plan the defence of the northern part of Germany.
Bradley peered through the image intensifier, the green shimmer showing him yet another military train passing through. Rail traffic had been intense during the past twenty-four hours, some trains stopping on the rail ring waiting for the junctions up ahead and the next train already coming to a halt a few hundred metres back. There was a real possibility of an accident, having so much heavy traffic on the rail network at the same time, ignoring all the usual safety guidelines.
The orbital ring road had also been busy. Columns of armoured vehicles, soft-skinned logistical units, created a constant drone as they headed to either encircle Berlin or move east to add to the ever growing force building up against the NATO forces in West Germany. Bradley had reported Soviet, East German and Polish divisions heading east, a huge tidal wave that could only go in one direction when it burst.
Hearing another train approach, he recognised the shapes: T-62s. He counted a full battalion. T-62s meant these were tank units coming from deep in the Soviet Union, military districts sending their units to support the second strategic echelon or even a third. It slowed to a stop, the last wagon opposite and to his left, an opportune moment for Bradley.
He shook Jacko awake gently. “Going out, keep watch.”
Jacko, lying alongside him in his sleeping bag, grunted a yes in response and Bradley left the hide. He clambered down the bank, checking carefully for soldiers or tank crew in the three goods wagons at the rear of the train. The large doors were shut, the tank crews probably asleep, taking an opportunity to rest up while out of sight of their officers. He crept down the side of the train, looking for clues as to the identity of the unit, something he could send back to HQ. He eventually came across a flatcar with two OT-64s, eight-wheeled armoured personnel carriers. The countries of origin for these were Poland and Czechoslovakia. Bradley suspected he was looking at a Polish unit — Czech forces would move through southern Germany — more evidence that the entire Warsaw Pact was on the move, and not just the Soviet Union.
The train jerked, indicating it would be moving again, and he made his way back to the hide to be met by Jacko handing him a hot, sweet tea. Even in the dim light, he could see Jacko was sprouting a dark beard and his face looked grubby, unwashed and had the look you acquire spending days and nights in a small confined space with minimal sleep.
“Thanks, Jacko. Anything?”
“A burst transmission came through about a minute ago, I’ll leave you to decode. Anything?”
“Yep, Polish tank battalion.”
“This is getting bad.”
Bradley got to the radio set and checked the message.
“Well?”
Bradley’s silence said it all. “They’ve closed off Berlin and launched an attack into West Germany.”
“Oh God…”
“We just do our bit, Jacko. That’s all we can do.”
“We’re in a safer place here than Berlin,” Jacko surmised.
“Afraid not, Jacko. They know we’re across here so they will come a hunting. There will be listening posts out trying to triangulate our position. We’ll move tomorrow. One more transmission; then we’ll move.”
Chapter 36
Lieutenant Wesley-Jones turned as he heard a Land Rover tearing through the copse behind him, coming to a halt behind his Chieftain tank. Major Lewis, the OC of Combat Team Bravo, leapt out of the passenger side and ran towards him, coming round the front of the tank and climbing up on top.
“They’ve done it, Alex. They’ve crossed the IGB.”
“Oh God.” Wesley-Jones groaned. “Are we holding them?”
The OC shook his head. “4 Div’s forward units have taken a hammering. They’re pulling back all along the front.”
“What about the rest?”
“The Americans in the south and the Germans in the north are already under attack. We have to maintain radio silence. The EW units will be listening for us, no doubt. That’s why I’ve come to tell you in person.”
“Christ, sir, what’s wrong with them? We don’t want a bloody war.”
“I know, I know. They’re going to hit you hard, Alex. Hold as long as you can. I’ve given you full control over the forces this side of the river in our sector. Put up a fight, but don’t lose men unnecessarily.”
“How long have I got?”
“The thoughts are twenty-four hours, but I wouldn’t bank on it. I have to go. Good luck.”
They shook hands and the OC jumped back into his Land Rover and sped off to give other units under his command the good news.
Patsy popped his head out.
“Did you hear that, Corporal Patterson?”
“Yes, sir, we’re fucked.”
“Not yet, we aren’t. You’re in charge here. I need to pull the troop together. They need to be told.”
Patsy dropped back down to share the news with his oppos Mark and Mackey.
Lieutenant Alex Wesley-Jones looked east. “Why? Why? Why?”