Kirov Saga: Devil's Garden (Kirov Series)
Read Kirov Saga: Devil's Garden (Kirov Series) Online
Authors: John Schettler
Kirov
Saga:
Devil’s
Garden
Nine
Days Falling
Volume III
By
John
Schettler
A
publication of:
The Writing Shop Press
Kirov Saga:
Devil’s
Garden
, Copyright©2013, John A. Schettler
Discover
other titles by John Schettler:
The
Kirov Saga:
(Military
Fiction)
Kirov
-
Kirov Series - Volume
I
Cauldron Of Fire -
Kirov Series - Volume II
Pacific
Storm -
Kirov Series
- Volume III
Men Of
War -
Kirov Series -
Volume IV
Nine Days Falling -
Kirov Series - Volume V
Fallen
Angels -
Kirov Series
- Volume VI
Devil’s
Garden -
Kirov Series
- Volume VII
Armageddon
– Kirov Series – Volume VIII
Award
Winning Science Fiction:
Meridian
-
Meridian Series - Volume I
Nexus Point
- Meridian Series - Volume II
Touchstone
- Meridian Series - Volume III
Anvil of
Fate
- Meridian
Series - Volume IV
Golem 7
- Meridian Series - Volume V
Classic Science Fiction:
Wild Zone
- Dharman Series - Volume I
Mother Heart
- Dharman Series - Volume II
Historical Fiction:
Taklamakan
- Silk Road Series - Volume I
Khan Tengri
- Silk Road Series - Volume II
Dream
Reaper
– Mythic
Horror Mystery
Mailto:
[email protected]
http://www.writingshop.ws
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Kirov
Saga:
Devil’s
Garden
Nine
Days Falling
Volume III
By
John
Schettler
“Nine
days they fell: Confounded Chaos roared,
And felt tenfold confusion in their fall
Through his wild anarchy, so huge a rout
Encumbered him with ruin: Hell at last
Yawning received them whole, and on them closed;
Hell, their fit habitation, fraught with fire
Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain.”
—
Milton, Paradise Lost
Kirov Saga:
Devil’s Garden
9
Days Falling ~ Vol. III
By
John
Schettler
Day
Seven
Part I –
D-Day
Part II –
The Eagle
Part III –
Invincible
Part IV –
Changes
Day
Eight
Part VII –
Tatsu Maru
Part VIII –
Togo
Day
Nine
Part IX –
Shortwave
Day
7
“Fix
thine eyes beneath: the river of blood
Approaches,
in the which all those are steep'd,
Who
have by violence injured.…”
Dante
Alighieri, The Inferno - Canto XII
Part I
D-Day
“Fortune
favors the brave, sir," said Carrot cheerfully.
"Good. Good. Pleased to hear it, captain. What is her position vis a vis
heavily armed, well prepared and excessively manned armies?"
"Oh, no–one's ever heard of Fortune favoring them, sir."
"According to General Tacticus, it's because they favor themselves…"
—
Terry
Pratchett
- Jingo
Chapter 1
They
came in fast, loud and with thunder
clap surprise, the engines of the three hovercraft roaring like sea demons. The
two smaller craft led the way, speeding in north of the main harbor to find
narrow strands along the shore. Hovercraft 639 was up near the rail yard,
landing on a narrow beach just south of a small oil loading area. The rail
lines ran very near the coast here as they bent south toward the main harbor
and the front ramp slowly descended as the craft stormed up onto the beach
under the watchful guard of the twin 14.5mm machine gun turret. To anyone that
saw it that evening, it may have appeared like a wrathful beast from the sea,
280 tons of metal roaring beneath the grey, low hanging gloom.
The
plan was to hit the coast fast, and seize key objectives before the advancing
German formations could reach the port. Hovercraft 640 landed about 200 meters
south on a narrow gravel embankment fringed by a long stone jetty. Within
seconds the front ramps were down and the rumble of the PT-76 tanks added to
the cacophony of noise. They were relative relics by the year 2021, withdrawn
from active deployment over seven years ago and replaced in all main line Naval
Marine units by the T-80. But that new tank weighed over 42 tons, and the
PT-76s scrounged up at the naval base at Kaspiysk weighed only 14 tons. Admiral
Volsky had opted for anything he could get on the hovercraft, and so the legacy
tank did the job better than anything new in the Russian inventory. It was
actually designed to work with the old hovercraft they were using, and they
went with it.
The
two tanks moved quickly down the ramps followed by scores of black booted
Marines with assault rifles who rushed ashore and went to ground to take up
firing positions. The two tanks turned left and headed inland, flanked on each
side by a squad of Marines.
Troyak
had studied the map carefully to devise his plan of defense. There were only
two likely avenues of approach to the harbor. One was right along the northern
coast where the hovercraft landed, on a narrow strip of land that was flanked
on the left by a long salt lake that ran roughly parallel to the shore. There
he deployed the bulk of two platoons of Naval Marines, one landing with each
hovercraft. Each platoon would deploy three RPG-7V shoulder-launched, anti-tank
rocket-propelled grenade launchers as their main tank defense, and three
mortars for fire support. The platoon also carried three RPK-76 light machine guns,
and the rifle sections were armed with AK-74 assault rifles.
Their
first objective was the main rail yard building, which dominated all the rail
spurs feeding in to the yard, with good fields of fire in all directions.
Others infiltrated into the built up area between the coast and the lake,
occupying the buildings to the surprise of any remaining residents still
lingering in the area.
After
the shock and surprise of the landing, the locals soon came to understand that
these were Russian troops, and not some new fangled weaponry deployed by the
Germans. They gaped at the hovercraft, astounded by the roar of the engines and
amazed to see how the craft could move over land or sea.
One
man was a garrison officer in the NKDV unit assigned to the area. “Reinforcements!”
he cried at the top of his voice. “Reinforcements from Baku!”
That
was how they had planned it, to present themselves as an elite force dispatched
from Baku to stop the Germans and save the day. The two PT-76 tanks seemed more
familiar to the locals, about the size of the T-34s they knew well enough,
though the sharp front amphibious bow and low profile drew many second looks.
Apparently Baku had new tanks as well!
Troyak
came ashore with the two lighter hovercraft, debarking from the number 640 boat
and leading the Marines ashore. He waved his men inland with a sharp whistle
and motion of his brawny forearm, and then watched as the two tanks turned
south to their assigned positions. He wanted them at the base of the long salt
lake, were the second road approached the harbor from the west. It ran past the
flat height of a low hill, passing right through a densely wooded park before
it reached the coastal rail lines. The coastal road ran past the lake on
elevated ground , and from that wooded area the two tanks had perfect fields of
fire to interdict that road. They would also serve as the main bulwark to block
the inland road, and they would be supported by a full platoon of Marines
landing with the 609
Aist
class hovercraft with Fedorov.
The
larger hovercraft landed just south of the main harbor on a narrow beach at the
base of a long jetty. It carried the mechanized platoon mounted in two PT-50
amphibious Armored Personnel carriers. They were supported by a ZSU-23-4 air defense
vehicle where Fedorov held sway, riding with command headphones on so he could
remain in constant contact with Troyak. This hovercraft was big enough to carry
two more platoons of Marines, one moving forward with the APCs and the second
being held in reserve near the ZSU-23.
Scouts
quickly learned that the local forces in the area had been ready to retreat,
but now, with the arrival of Fedorov’s little invasion force, they took heart
and were seen in small groups of three and five men, urged back to the front
line by barking sergeants. Fedorov dismounted and quickly had his men round up
one of the locals, a man named Kulikov, who greeted him with a warm, ruddy
cheeked smile.
“Good
to see you. Where did you get that!” he pointed at the big hovercraft, a
lumbering behemoth still roaring near the jetty, its twin 30mm gun turret
slowly rotating on overwatch.
“A
gift from Baku,” Fedorov said quickly. “Who is in charge here?”
“In
charge? That would be Commissar Molla, in the holding facility. You can just
follow the rail line north and you will see it on your left. They were
preparing to move south soon. Some have already gone. The Germans are coming!” The
man pointed.
“Yes?
Well, we’ll see about that. How many are you?”
“We
have a single battalion, but the Germans are coming in strength, at least one
full mechanized battalion on the inland road, and many armored cars and motorcycle
infantry on the coast road to the north. We were ordered to retreat, until we
saw you come in off the sea. Amazing! I had no idea we had such machines!”
“Stalin
has more in the cupboard than you may realize,” Fedorov smiled. The man gave
him an odd look, but said nothing more, still gaping at the ZSU-23.
“We
are occupying all the ground between the central park and the rail yard,” said
Fedorov. “Get your men on our left flank. Can you hold the ground between the
city and that hill?”
“We
can try, comrade. Yes. We will fight!”
“Good.
Get word to all your officers. Tell them we stop the Germans here and now. If
they take this place, the road to Baku is open. Here we stand firm!”
The
Sergeant nodded heartily and ran off, yelling to round up any men he could
find. Fedorov climbed back up onto the ZSU-23, a vehicle using the same chassis
as the PT-76 tanks, though it was not amphibious, with a big upper turret
housing quad 23mm cannons. Known as the
Shilka
, and often referred to by
its nickname “Zeus” it was the God of air defense for Russian ground
battalions. The quad 23mm guns could range out 3000 meters, with precision
radar controlled fire that also included a laser rangefinder and a sensor pod
with a day/night optical camera that could use infrared night optics to spot
targets 600 meters away.
The
ZSU moved off with a low growl, its metal tracks rattling on the rail ties as
it followed the lines north. Fedorov was going to head directly to the
detention facility and conduct the search for Orlov while Troyak organized the
defense against the Germans. The vehicle soon reached a point between the park
and the main harbor where the squat shape of the thick walled facility could be
seen to the west. Two NKVD Guards waited by the main entrance, and one man held
up an arm to signal the vehicle to stop.
Zykov
was riding in the ZSU as Fedorov’s tactical advisor, and the two men emerged
from the open hatch jumping down and walking boldly up to the gate.
“Who
are you?” the guards asked. “What is happening?”
“We
are reinforcements. Where is your Commissar Molla?”
“Molla?
In there, of course. His staff car came in just a few moments ago.”
“Very
well,” said Fedorov. “Open the gate. We have orders for the Commissar.”
“But
we were told—”
“I
don’t care what you were told,” Fedorov said quickly. “The situation has
changed. The Germans are coming, and I am now in full command of the defense of
Makhachkala and the harbor. It must not be taken. Now open that gate or stand
aside and I will have my men do it. And be quick about it!”
The
guards saw the insignia on Fedorov’s Cap—an NKVD Colonel—and the decorations on
his chest. They were not inclined to argue further. The growl of the ZSU
rumbling in the background was more than persuasive in any case. They ran to
the gates, opening them wide and saluting.
Fedorov
turned to Zykov. “Corporal. Take two squads. Go get our man.”
“With
pleasure, sir!”
“And
Zykov…Be firm. Take no guff from anyone. I’m going to find this commissar and
see what he knows. Conduct your search and signal me the moment you locate
Orlov.
They
started through the gate, but Fedorov soon heard Troyak’s voice in his earbud,
calling from the defense perimeter. “Colonel Fedorov—we have company. Germans are
on the north road by the oil tanks. They are coming.”
* * *
Oberleutnant
Ernst Wellman was leading
Kradschutzen Battalion 3, two platoons of motorcycle infantry out in front
supported by three armored cars. Behind them came the bulk of the fast moving
motorcycle infantry in a long column. At intervals there would be other larger
vehicles, trucks and half-tracks hauling heavier weapons—a 75mm infantry gun
and two 37mm light anti tank guns.
One
platoon of motorcycle infantry roared up to the oil tank farm north of Troyak’s
main line of defense, dismounting and rushing to secure this vital area, not
knowing that the tanks were empty, drained long ago. Other troops were
dismounting at the edge of the main rail yard, and with well practiced skill
they began sending sections of three man teams into the open yard, heading for
the main building where Troyak was watching with binoculars. The dour Sergeant
pinched off his collar microphone and gave an order.
“Litchko—sniper
rifle!”
The
crack of the rifle opened the engagement with a single round that dropped the
lead German scout right by the main rail tracks and announced to all the rest
that the area was held against them. It was to be one of the oddest engagements
of the war, with the veteran German infantry opposed by Russian Marines from
the 21st century, men who would not be born for another fifty or sixty years!
The
first kill sent all the remaining infantry to ground, some crawling to look for
any cover available—old rusted barrels, stacks of wood pallets, bailing wire,
and old crates. The men shouted, and one squad was up, rushing forward.
Troyak
knew they intended to draw fire from his main defensive positions, but the men
had been ordered to wait and Litchko’s sniper rifle barked again, two rounds in
quick succession dropping two of the three men. The third man made it to cover,
then poked his head up to try and locate the sniper and received a bullet for
his trouble.
The
Germans were back to square one, but now they heard the harsh call of orders,
and soon the infantry in place began to open fire on every building within
site. Troyak’s Marines watched while small teams again began to rush forward
across the tracks, and again the sniper rifle snapped off shots to thin their
ranks. Yet this time too many were moving, at least fifteen men rushing forward
behind the base of rifle fire provided by the remainder of the German platoon.
Troyak gave the order to return fire, and the Marines opened up with their
fully automatic AK-74s, firepower many times in excess of the incoming German
rifle fire. They cut the German advance to pieces in sharp, well controlled
bursts of fire, until all the infantry had gone to ground again, surprised by
the withering automatic weapons of the Russian Marines.
Wellman
was close enough to see what was happening and he immediately knew he had run
into some real trouble here. He began to order up his armored cars in support.
There were three at hand, an SdKfz 221 mounting an MG-32 and two SdKfz 222s
with 2cm KwK 30 autocannons. The smallest tank gun designed by the Germans in
the war, it was initially mounted on their old Panzer II recon tanks. The
armored cars began to fire, though the weight of their additional guns soon proved
ineffective against the well positioned Russian Marines. Their armor was soon
found lacking as well.
“D
section,” Troyak ordered through his collar microphone, “take out those armored
cars.”
The
Russian Marine squad laid out intense covering fire and the RPG-7Vs opened up
at a range of just under 100 meters, and scored quick hits, the tandem HEAT
rounds blasting completely through the thin armor of the German ACs and
wrecking them in a short, violent minute.
