Mortar and artillery fire brought an end to the Belorussian monopoly on the killing, screaming in on the defender’s positions and forcing the Belarus to seek the safe climes at the bottom of their holes. The attacking infantry’s commanders on the ground could see nothing beyond the flames; they were however receiving frantic calls for support from their men on the wrong side of the ditches.
The battle in Belarus was a side-line in the Soviet scheme of things, unfinished business but not one of the highest priorities. The Ukrainian, Polish and Russian forces lacked the air and artillery resources that were available to their forces in Germany, but they kept up their heavy barrage until the flames in the ditches were no longer a barrier, before reducing their rate of fire slightly.
Johar and his sergeant huddled in the mud with the best of them, breathing through their mouths as protection against the ruptured lungs that could accompany near misses by large calibre shells, or fuel air munitions.
Counter-battery fire and direct fire support was at present absent from the Belorussian side, more through limited ammunition than any cunning plan.
Sgt Topl was listening for the sound of the incoming to change slightly, as it shifted to their rear. Right now he knew that the infantry were moving up under the cover of the barrage, close enough that they themselves would be starting to take casualties if their discipline were good. As soon as the shellfire moved to the rear areas, isolating the front line from reinforcements the Russian infantry would be hustling forwards as fast as possible to get in amongst the Belorussians before they recovered.
Topl already had an entrenching tool at hand to be used as a weapon, he now tugged his bayonet from its scabbard and kicked the major, who opened his previously clenched eyes and saw what Topl was holding and fixed bayonets himself. The platoon would already have done so, those who had not been killed already by the shelling.
The moment Topl heard the sound of the incoming rounds change, he was on his feet, and bent over so as not to stick his head above ground until the last enemy shell had impacted on their positions. Johar pulled himself up and found he was shaking all over, the terror of the bombardment robbing his limbs of strength. His hands shook as he gripped the assault rifle and he looked guiltily at the sergeant, in shame at showing his fear. Topl was staring at him, his face devoid of expression, and then held his own hand in front of Johar’s face, it shook just as badly as his own and Topl suddenly grinned for the first time since Johar had known him. It was so unexpected that Johar began to laugh and after a moment Topl joined him. The rain fell on them from the heavens, high explosive screamed overhead and they were outnumbered by three to one, but for now they crouched in a muddy hole and laughed.
Inside the treeline of a copse outside the village of Zditovo, in the centre of the Belarus position, a detachment of just four soldiers, all carrying injuries guarded the Belarus command post. Every able bodied man, and many who weren’t, were in the fighting positions. A barn had been taken over to house the command staff of the loyal Belorussian forces; rain drummed off its corrugated tin roof and slicked its rough stone walls.
Within the barn the commander of all loyal Belorussian forces studied the large map on the wall of the barn they had taken over. The Russians had tried to take them by surprise with dismounted infantry and failed, now the question was, what contingency plan did they have for such a failure?
His answer came a few minutes later when a heavy barrage began on the southwest side of the defensive position in addition to that on the northeast.
Either the Russian attack had become a diversion or the Ukrainians were about to launch the real deal, or vice versa. However he was wrong, the Russian commander had tired of the losses inflicted by the Belarus since the start of the war, and was going to end this matter as quickly as possible so they could join the units fighting in Germany. He lacked the artillery to pound on all three sides of the Belarus position at once, so he would shift fire to the northwest defence line once the lead Ukrainian MRR was a minute away from the south western line. Meanwhile he wanted to alternate his fire between the enemy trenches and counter-battery fire.
From out of the woods opposite the Belarus north eastern and south western defence lines, undergrowth and saplings were crushed beneath the wheels and treads of the two MRRs that were moving into the assault.
Small arms fire brought the laughter to a halt and both men brought their AKs up, peering over open sights into the dark but they could see only muzzle flashes by the forward foxholes, not who was firing.
Johar grabbed for the radio handset to call for illumination, but someone beat him to it. A ‘thunk’ to the rear announced a mortar firing a para-illum round and three seconds later a magnesium flare was suspended beneath a small parachute overhead, producing 300,000 candle power of light.
The sight that greeted them was a mass of enemy infantry, stretching back into the night; they were everywhere!
The nearest Russian infantry were almost on top of their foxholes, several were preparing to grenade the men’s holes whilst others put down heavy fire.
The sight angered Johar to the extent that all fear left him, and with a scream of hatred he aimed at the nearest group and began firing long bursts into them. The fire fight between the entrenched Belarus and the more numerous but exposed Russians rapidly grew in crescendo and ferocity. Sgt Topl stopped his own firing long enough to reach across to slap Johar’s helmet hard.
Fire missions major… fire missions!” As soon as Johar dropped down below the parapet to use the radio, Topl resumed firing.
It was the first time Topl had allowed him to call in a fire mission, granted though… it was easy just looking at the range card and quoting the code word for the pre-planned mission, rather than working out grid references from a map.
Mortars fired the closest missions and artillery took those further away, and just before the first rounds landed Johar saw the call-light flashing on the field telephone. Crouching low with free hand covering his ear he listened to the tank commander warn him of enemy T-80s and APCs 1200m away.
It meant that the artillery would in a few seconds abort their present fire missions and shift their fire to the approaching armour.
With friendly fire air-bursting 20’ above the ground, the furthest Russian infantry were taking casualties before they got to within small arms range of the Belorussians. Had this continued then the Belarus infantry could probably have managed to hold their own, but once the artillery shifted a seemingly endless mass closed in on them.
The defenders had cleared the area in front of their positions, dead and wounded Russian infantry lay all about, and then the light faded. There was a delay until the mortars put up another para-illum round after the first one died out, but in the time it took for the next flare to ignite more Russians rushed forward, taking advantage of the darkness.