Captain Long shuddered in disgust. At this point he had his body armor and his blouse off, and the corpsman began to cut his undershirt off to get at the wound better. Long shot the man a look of scorn. “You’re lucky that wasn’t my Under Armor shirt. I only have a couple of them left,” he said.
Just as Lieutenant Scott approached them, they heard a commotion behind them. While the corpsman was wiping away some blood and pouring some iodine on the wound, Colonel Tilman and the regiment’s sergeant major approached them.
“That looks like it hurts, Captain. You all right?” asked Colonel Tilman as he eyed the wound.
The corpsman had a pair of medical pliers out and proceeded to pull a small piece of metal out of Long’s right shoulder before examining his arm to do the same. Captain Long winced as the pliers pulled the fragment out of his shoulder. While it hurt, his shoulder felt a lot better with the metal out.
Long looked at Colonel Tilman and shook his head. “It’s not the first time I’ve been shot or hit with shrapnel. I’m sure it won’t be the last time.”
“That’s hard core, Marine. Semper Fi,” grunted the sergeant major before moving on to check on the rest of the troops.
“You shouldn’t be here, Sir,” warned Captain Long. “Lieutenant Scott’s platoon spotted at least two or three company-size elements forming up for another attack. There’re roughly a kilometer in that direction.” He pointed toward the location of the enemy.
The colonel nodded. “Good,” he replied in a voice that was almost too optimistic. “I’ve got Third Battalion deploying to your right flank as we speak. Lieutenant Scott, go with Major Allen here and relay what you saw and where they are. We’re going to finish this battle today.”
While the officers continued to talk, rocket fire from the high-mobility artillery rocket system or HIMARS battery screamed in the background until it exploded on the enemy fortifications that the regiment still had to secure. The thumping sound of helicopters also got closer.
One of the squads had tied some det cord around half a dozen trees to help create a clearing for one of the CH-53 Super Stallion to land so they could fly out their wounded, so fortunately, there was at least some patch of land for them to set down upon. When the helicopter landed in the clearing, half a dozen Marines rushed forward to help offload several crates of ammo and grenades, along with numerous five-gallon jugs of water. Just as soon as that had taken place, the corpsmen ran forward with their stretchers, bringing the wounded to the helicopter. Many other walking wounded also got on board before the helicopter lifted off, ready to head back to a high-level trauma center. When the Super Stallion was gone, a second one landed in its place and offloaded a fresh platoon, ready for action.
Colonel Tilman saw the fresh Marines getting off and commented to Long, “I’ve got eight more loads of fresh Marines coming into this position right now. We’re moving the regiment’s headquarters forward. I need to be closer to the fight.” He paused for a second, watching the corpsman wrap Captain Long’s shrapnel wounds. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to a field hospital and get that stitched up?” he asked. “We’ll manage for a few days while you’re gone.”
Long shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ll wait for the regiment surgeon to arrive. He can stitch me up here and I’ll get right back to it. I can rest and recover after we finish these guys off.”
“All right, Captain, have it your way. For the time being, I want your company pulled back to provide security for regiment HQ. You guys need a break, and it’s the best I can give you until the situation changes.”
Battle of St. Petersburg
Oberstleutnant Hermann Wulf of the 21st Panzer Brigade could still hear the distant sound of explosions as he looked off in the direction of St. Petersburg. A few snowflakes fell in the afternoon sunlight as the sun’s rays fought to break through the cloud cover overhead. The temperature continued to hover around 30 degrees Fahrenheit, not cold enough to require heavy winter coats, but just cold enough to require something to ward off the wind when it blew. The evening temperatures, however, would drop closer to the teens with the windchill. Still, it was only a preview of what the winter would be like once January and February came. A winter war in Russia was not something anyone was looking forward to. However, unlike the armies of the past, the Allies were better equipped to deal with it.
Surprisingly, Wulf’s unit, the 35th Mechanized Infantry Battalion, had met little in the way of enemy resistance once the American heavy armor units had broken through the Russian lines two days prior. When he had been given the order to secure the city of Kirovsk on the east banks of the Neva River, he had breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like his command would largely avoid some of the hardest fighting taking place in the city.
To help accomplish the task of securing the critical P-21/E-105 Highway leading to St. Petersburg, his battalion had been augmented with a single Heron TP UAV, an Israeli-made ISR drone. The US V Corps was going to use his battalion as their eyes and ears while the main body of forces collectively crushed the remaining enemy forces in the city. With this last major Russian formation defeated, they would have a clear path to drive on Moscow some 710 kilometers southeast of their current positions.
Oberstleutnant Wulf was elated that his unit wouldn’t have to partake in what he knew would be a bloody street fight in St. Petersburg, yet anxious at being at the forefront of the army group. His battalion, while largely still intact from the recent months of fighting, would largely be on their own until the major fighting in the city was concluded. His battalion had a force of 39 Puma infantry fighting vehicles, 42 Boxer armored personnel carriers, and two dozen Fennek reconnaissance vehicles. His battalion had also been augmented with a company of Leopard II tanks and a battery of Panzerhaubitze 2000, the newest self-propelled Howitzers. The 155mm artillery guns were providing near-constant artillery support to the American, Swedish, and Finnish soldiers fighting in and around the city of St. Petersburg. With all their vehicles and equipment, his force had been tasked with blocking any Russian reinforcements from traveling to the St. Petersburg pocket and preventing all enemy forces from retreating.
One of his captains approached him, carrying a map of the region. “Herr Oberstleutnant, one of the scout units has spotted a column of armored vehicles near the city of Chudovo,” he explained as he pointed to a small city that was maybe twenty kilometers from their current position, well within artillery range of their little mobile firebase they had set up.
“Find out from the scouts how many vehicles they are seeing and what type they are,” Wulf ordered. “Also, send a message over our artillery unit that we may have a new fire mission for them.” he ordered. The activity around his command vehicle increased as his soldiers went to work processing the information coming in from the scouts and keeping the various units informed of what was happening around them.
With no real snowfall on the forecast for a couple of days, Wulf was making full use of the surveillance drones the Americans had provided his battalion with. The small, portable drones were providing his analysis with a constant stream of data. He observed some video footage of one of the scout drones as it took up position over the enemy unit traveling toward them.
“Sir, the scouts are reporting six enemy tanks and eight BTRs heading toward Kolpino. That’ll put them at the Americans’ southeastern perimeter. Shall I order our Panzers to intercept them?” the operations officer asked. Another soldier manning the drone overhead zoomed in to confirm the scouts’ report.