ARMAGEDDON'S SONG (Volume 3) 'Fight Through' (45 page)

“Are you going to shoot him, sergeant?” The question
was whispered by a young Canadian subaltern to his platoon sergeants back.

Sergeant Blackmore of the Nova Scotia Highlanders
rolled his eyes and carefully turned his head, ensuring no waving items of
undergrowth gave away his position as he moved.
2Lt Ferguson was his fourth platoon commander in
as many weeks. The first officer to hold that post was now the battalion 2 i/c,
and his predecessor had lasted almost a fortnight before sticking his head up
to see where some firing had come from instead of keeping it down even lower.
Sergeant Blackmore could not remember the next ones name. On his third day,
that particular young man had decided that consulting a map whilst out of cover
had been a good idea.  Mr Ferguson had joined the Highlanders recce
platoon less than a day ago and already there was a book going. The smart money
said young Mr F would not make it through the day, but it was Blackmore’s to
keep the man alive.

Plus of course, Blackmore had $100 riding on 48hrs!
“Sir, shooting him would be noisy.” He whispered
back. “And we are the recce platoon, not the anti-tank platoon. The anti-tanks
are the battalion’s loud buggers, and we are supposed to be the really quiet
ones.” 

Ilya Morimsky was now stood upon the aircrafts wing,
and leaning inside the cockpit, flicking switches, going through the proper shutdown
sequence for the last time and the sound of the jet engine sank away to
nothing. He patted the fuselage affectionately before walking south, taking a
cigarette from a pocket in his flight suit and lighting up once he was clear of
the stink of aviation fuel.

“And besides,” Sergeant Blackmore explained. “It took
balls to do that; I’ll send Junot and Hicks to take him prisoner.” 

A pair of military policemen collected the Colonel
from his captors, escorting him away through woods where men were taking down
camouflage nets and stowing them away in their fighting vehicles in preparation
to move.

Everywhere he looked Ilya saw enemy armour, the
Highlanders LAV III Infantry Fighting Vehicles, the Coyote armoured recce
vehicles of The Fort Garry Horse, and Leopard C2 MBTs from two different
regiments, the Royal Canadian Dragoons and the Canadian VIII Hussars.

Morimsky told himself that his navigation had to be
out and that he was further north than he had thought, because the alternative
did not bear thinking of, a NATO armoured force on the loose amid his armies
supply lines.

The time for concealment had passed, the crews mounted
up and the armoured fighting vehicles of the 2nd Canadian Mechanised Brigade
roared into life.

The close support from the air force hampered the
efforts of the defenders long enough for a plough tank to get to within sixty
metres of the first of the 4 Company trenches before it was destroyed by 94mm
LAW’s, fired point blank from the infantrymen’s fighting holes, but the damage had
been done, the minefield had been breached.      

The sound of small arms fire and grenades almost
drowned out the voice of a sergeant in the 82
^nd
as he gave a
sitrep to Pat Reed, communications had been lost with 4 Company command
post
and the platoon commander of 12 Platoon, the sub unit
facing the breach in the minefield, was dead. The Czech’s had taken four
trenches after fierce fighting but they had been unable to increase that
number, being repelled with heavy losses on their last attempt.

The cleared path through the mines had been blocked by
good fire from 10 Platoons Milan team, firing across the front of 12 Platoon
and knocking out a T-72 and a T-90, isolating a T-72, six BTRs and BMPs that
had followed the mine plough through. Five armoured vehicles, including the
T-72, were stopped and burning on top of 12 Platoons positions, but the
infantry the APCs had carried were in and around the captured trenches and
being supported by fire from their comrades beyond the minefield. The remaining
two Soviet fighting vehicles had driven through the 12 Platoon position and
further uphill to where the platoon in depth, 11 Platoon, had taken the pair
under fire and destroyed both.

The American NCO wanted the enemy supporting fire
suppressed in order for a counter attack to retake the holes.

After tasking the mortars to drop smoke in the way of
the enemy support fire Pat called on 1 Troops commander and was alarmed to find
that the troop commander had the only vehicle of the troop still in action. The
other Challenger had been struck at the base of the turret, the shot had failed
to penetrate but it succeeded in buckling the armour and fusing enough of it to
the chassis that it could no longer traverse its gun. The Chieftain of the
troop was undamaged but it was out of sabot and almost out of HESH. Pat told
the man to ‘wait out’ and shifted to the battalion command net, but there was
no response from Mark Venables on that means or by Ptarmigan. He called up 3
Company, but as they had not seen or heard from the Squadron Commanders tank he
had to switch back to 1 Troop. 

“Hello Tango One
One
, this
is India Nine…where is your Sunray? Where is Tango One Nine, over?”

“Tango One
One
, I have
heard nothing from my sunray for figs two zero.”

It was almost a dilemma, not having sufficient tank
killing power to enable the defeat of the enemy who were within 4 Company’s
positions, without diverting 2 Troop away from where they would soon be
desperately needed. Fortunately the AS-90s of the Royal Artillery had completed
their move to a new gun line and the Czech supporting fire dried up soon after
the 155mm guns were turned on them.

The Czech battalion commander was on foot, having
gotten as far as the mines where both tracks had been blown off, he and his
crew abandoned the vehicle just prior to a Milan destroying it. He had neither
the means nor the willpower to force his men to stand and fight, all the plough
tanks had been knocked out and the defenders fire too accurate for the mines to
be cleared by hand. He couldn’t even get a ride, several tank and APC
commanders saw their Colonel and his crew running from shell crater to shell
crater, but possibly fearing he would order some futile action they ignored
him, withdrawing back the way they had come.

With one crisis over the reports coming into 1CG’s CP
became more upbeat, a REME recovery vehicle reported it was with Major Venables
callsign and had replaced a track blown off by a near miss during the air raid.
With the track replaced the REME and Venables Challenger had left their very
exposed position on the hillside, moving to 4 Company’s CP before repairing the
tanks communication’s, damaged in the same air attack. They had found a scene
of feverish activity there, the CP’s roof had collapsed during the shelling but
there had been no fatalities, the company headquarters staff had been released
from their would-be tomb and were now frantically attempting to recover
equipment, including communication’s gear, which was still buried.

12 Platoon regained its lost fighting holes and took
eight prisoners, but they had lost five dead and four wounded during the entire
action, losses that Lt Col Reed felt obliged to make good from 1 and 2 Company.

A resupply was carried out for the men in the
trenches; it was not so simple for the Hussar’s though. Mark Venables and his
crew traded vehicles with that of the damaged 1 Troop Challenger, transferring
their ammunition to the Troop commanders vehicle before heading to the rear
with 1 Troops Chieftain following. The Chieftain went for reloads and Mark
Venables brought the damaged Challenger to the REME’s makeshift workshop.

The Greek F-16s splashed one SU-27 Flanker and three
of the SU-39s with AMRAAMs for the loss of one of their own, but it was more
likely that the Soviet strike withdrew due to the escorting Flankers fuel
states rather than prudence.

This time the AWAC’s message was passed to all forces
in good time and the Stinger and Starstreak crews stood down. The Jaguars of
the Armee de l’Air realised almost as soon as they were above the contested
hill that the Soviet AAA radars were still on standby, they had not been told
their own aircraft were clear of the battlefield.

The first company of 23
^rd
MRRs Third
Battalion was cresting the rise to the left of the farms ruins when the Jaguars
attacked with CBUs, they made a single pass down the length of the column,
destroying three tanks and four APCs before disappearing to the southwest, but
the AAA radars did not immediately light up, the operators hesitated still,
allowing two flights of three A-10 Thunderbolts from the 103
^rd
Fighter Wing to attack unchallenged. The seven barrelled 30mm cannons made a
sound like tearing cloth as they fired, exploding eleven vehicles in a single
pass before egressing to the west, scattering Gator mines from their underwing
dispensers. One pilot found himself flying toward a half circle of stationary
vehicles and a nearby cluster of men besides a ruined building. He had time for
one long burst, walking it across a BTR-80, the T-80 beside it, and on across a
pair of running figures.

23
^rd
MRRs commander could feel the heat of the flames
issuing from his burning command tank, even though the freezing muddy water had
soaked his uniform. He heaved himself up onto his hands and knees in the puddle
in which he had landed when he’d dived for cover, looked around for his 2 i/c
and bawled angrily at him when he saw him listening earnestly on the
signaller’s second headset some thirty metres away, seemingly oblivious to the
violence of just moments before. His Intelligence officer and an infantryman
from his escort had been reduced to hamburger by the A-10s strafing run, but
the regimental commander gave them not a second thought except to angrily kick
loose a piece of intestine that had landed on his boot.

Two attacks had been defeated, two attacks by a total
of six companies had failed to take and hold so much as a single NATO foxhole,
and now those NATO bastards had tried to kill him without one of his AAA units
firing a shot. He turned and looked at the ZSU-23-4 that was charged with his
protection, it too had failed to take action in time, and surely that could not
go unpunished, could it?

Radars started to come back up, an SA-9 was launched
and a ZSU hit an A-10 in the port engine but then the Thunderbolts were clear.
The French Jaguars were still in the vicinity though, knowing that at some
point the AAA would react and they killed both the SA-9 launcher and the ZSU,
causing the radars to shut down once again.

The regimental commander had witnessed the turret of
the ZSU attached to his headquarters pivot, quite obviously under guidance from
its radar and then shut down again after the French HARMs began arriving. Quite
obviously an example was called for here, and who better to demonstrate what
befell those who failed in their duty then he himself. He undid the flap of the
holster on his hip before stepping off purposefully towards the vehicle in
question. The sound of running feet caused him to glance over his shoulder, but
it was just his 2 i/c so he carried on walking.

“Who was that on the radio?”

Obediently his 2 i/c took up station a couple of paces
behind him.

“It was the divisional commander, sir.”

23
^rd
’s commander began to demand as to why he had not been
informed but the sentence was not completed. The men nearby turned and gawped
at the sound of distant thunder, and flashes reflected by the cloud to the
east. Some of the men recognised the sound and looked nervously at the skies
above their heads. It was an infantryman from the escort who first looked away
from the direction of the MLRS attack and noticed his regiments two most senior
officers, the one lying face down in the mud and the one stood a little behind
with his arm still extended, a wisp of blue/grey smoke dissipating around the
muzzle of the pistol held in that hand.

23
^rd
MRRs new commander holstered the pistol and gestured
to the signaller who ran across.

“Halt the battalion and have the company commanders
join me here, we have some quick changes to make and then they can resume.”

The delay cost another twenty minutes, and when once
more the armour headed west the regimental command group was included. 

Pat Reed received word that the third and largest
formation yet had entered the valley, and with it came a further air raid warning.
He had expected it sooner but any delay could only be to the good in the long
term.

He looked around the command post and up at its very
substantial roof, deciding that Jim Popham could run the show for a while. He
was a hands-on soldier and that was his excuse for leaving the main CP.

“Timothy?”

The adjutant raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Sir?”

“Call Sarn’t Higgins, tell him to bring up a Warrior
for me and Defence Platoons reserve section, and tell Jim Popham that until he
hears otherwise, he has the battalion, understood?”

“Er, no sir, is that wise?”