Sporadic shooting was still to be heard, but no more heavy calibre weapons were in action. How many would there still be at the final roll-call? Not many of that green mob the officer of engineers had brought with him, that was for certain. Clarence would come through, he always did, he was one of the great indestructibles, seemingly a permanent feature of the Zone. Even the Russians had found out about him somehow, and had posted a reward for his capture. The others, probably, but the fighting had been close and bloody, not all the advantages in the world could have entirely made up for the disparity in fire-power between themselves and the section of the column they had cut off and carved up.
And it wasn’t only the Russian armour that had taken a beating. Further along, a large flame-enveloped building suddenly bowed outwards, sagged and collapsed across the road, partially burying a disabled self-propelled gun. Other shops and houses were beginning to burn, whole blocks in some cases. A few premises had already been reduced to heaps of smouldering rubble. The centre of the town had been gutted and the devastation would be spread over a larger area by the unchecked fires.
One of the machine gun team came clattering down the stairs. Hyde noted that the only sign of the mass of ammunition they had carried up was the short length of belt actually hanging from the M60 he had over his shoulder. ‘Where’s the other one?’
‘Tracer round from that flak-wagon got him. Cut him in half.’ The machine gunner brushed a length of intestine from his boot. ‘I didn’t even know he’d bought it until I called for another belt, and all of a sudden he wasn’t there. Will your guy make it?’ He bent over Kurt and reached out to touch the lodged fragment, then stopped when the wounded man raised his Ml 6 to point it, waveringly, alternately at his chest and throat. ‘OK fella, if that’s the way you want it.’
He joined Hyde by the window. ‘You sure that guy’s on our side?’
‘Well he is, but I’ve never been sure of it. He’s ex-border guard.’ Hyde offered the American a boiled sweet.
‘Thanks, don’t mind if I do.’ He sucked loudly. ‘Can’t say I’m too fond of those creeps. He’s hurt so bad, I don’t suppose there’s any real hurry.’
‘No, none at all.’ Sergeant Hyde offered the bag again. ‘I think we’ve got time for another.’
The Zone – Southern Sector
In a concentrated weekend of action, Yugoslav regular and irregular forces have succeeded in closing virtually every airport being used by the Russian Airforce. Sixteen fighters, forty helicopters and thirty-seven transport aircraft were destroyed on the ground. The action was timed to coincide with the closing of the Vardar Valley, and the destruction of the main road/rail links with Bulgaria by irregular forces supported by air-strikes provided by US 6th Fleet, Mediterranean.
Warsaw Pact Forces inside the country are being forced to feed themselves off the land, and there have been several clashes between farmers and foraging Bulgarian troops. Six civilians died in one incident.
The World Council of Neutral Nations has again called on Russia and Hungary to remove their troops from Austria.
Switzerland has admitted responsibility for the shooting down of the C-141 Starlifter of 55th US Aeromedical Airlift Squadron. The aircraft came down near Andelfingen, on Euroroute 70. The crew and fifteen medical attendants, plus all seventy-five litter cases from the 27th US Division were killed in the crash. No explanation has been offered.
Switzerland has complained of harassment and physical assault on its nationals in several German cities, and demanded compensation for the burning of its Consulate in Munich by American Forces personnel.
TWELVE
The respirator helped. Its filters had been designed to keep out microparticles of toxic chemicals, and now they reduced the amount of smoke Revell was forced to take in with each painfully laboured breath. Flame gushed up the stairs, gouted through every crack in the floorboards. He felt the heat strike at him, so fiercely that every movement which brought his clothes into fresh contact with his body was a moment of pain.
Cohen was still holding the radio pack. Now he found Revell’s arm, and too hoarse to use the mask’s short-range built-in radio, urgently signalled to the upper floors. He repeated the gesture as Revell shook his head.
‘No good, no good.’ Fumes bit into the major’s throat and reduced him to cryptic abbreviations of what he wanted to say. ‘The back, the back.’
Part of the front wall fell away, and was replaced by a sheet of flame. Revell didn’t waste more time on words, shoving Cohen towards the rear of the building. To reach it, they had to skirt the roaring jet coming up from the furnace below. As they drew level with it the air became unbreathable, and plucked at them, sucking them towards the yellow and red inferno streaming to the top of the building.
Hell was below them, all about them, and Revell could only see Hyde’s ghastly parody of a face wherever he looked. Better to get it over with quick, than cling to life like that.
Then they were past, and heard the room they had left thunder down on top of the burning tank. Now fire curled along the ceiling as well, pushing rolling black clouds ahead of it Light fittings and ceiling tiles caught and dripped fire on to them, falling with rippling zipping sounds, like vertical streaks of miniature tracer.
Bars blocked the window and the vision of Hyde returned. Revell sought another way. His fingers made contact with a metal bar. A fire door… it had to be. He ran his hand around the edge of the steel panel until he found the bolts he’d been expecting.
Had to stay calm, that was it, stay calm. Damn, that hurt A blob of something molten struck the back of his hand. He could feel the pressure of the radio-man’s grip on the sleeve of his jacket.
‘It’s OK, found a door, out in a minute.’ He shouldered his repeater 12-gauge and tried the release bar. The door remained stubbornly shut. Oh God, don’t let it be warped, or rusted or jammed by expansion in this heat. Another attempt, and all he managed was to skin his knuckles. He didn’t dare to turn and look at the flames he knew would be there.
Think, he had to think, had to force himself to slow down, rationalise. Two bolts, he’d done them. The locking bar itself, he’d tried that every way. He was being stupid, it had to open, damn it, it had to. Again he pulled with all his strength, and the door didn’t budge an inch. It must be something basic. This was crazy. As a kid he’d never had any trouble opening the emergency doors to let his friends in for free… Once more he took hold of the handle, lifted it until he heard the ‘clunk’ of the lock disengaging, and pushed. The door swung gently open and, with Cohen in tow, he tumbled out on to the fire escape.
Tearing off his respirator, he gulped in fresh air. Tears still flooded his eyes and blurred his vision. When he started down and reached for the railing he missed it and slipped the first few steps, skinning the backs of his legs. Cohen grabbed him and arrested his fall.
Ammunition was cooking-off inside, every explosion bringing down a lethal shower of broken tiles and flame-blackened glass from the windows.
Their legs wouldn’t carry them far, and they gratefully slumped to the ground, as they fought for breath and flapped at the sparks running along the edges of their jackets with bare hands. Behind them the building, flame and black smoke boiling from every door and window, began to fall in on itself, doing so floor by floor like a folding house of cards.
With the settling of the last wall, Revell became aware of something new, alien, and frightening. Silence, almost total silence. It was as if the structure’s collapse had marked the battle’s crescendo, and signalled its end. There was a horrible sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with the taste of smoke in his mouth.