A single spurt of flame soared from a top hatch and then the whole structure burst apart with the detonation of all it s fuel and ammunition simultaneously. Above the top run of tracks the thick metal was actually rent, split apart. Track links and two road wheels were propelled far away by the blast.
From the Iron Cows cupola Revell had watched the destruction, having been ultra cautious in getting Burke to position the hovercraft so that only that and the turret showed above the piled bricks of a collapsed warehouse.
“Get ready to move. We’ll give the artillery a couple more minutes to stoke the screen and our two big friends to create a spot more havoc and then we’ll be off.”
With their driver the Major had reconnoitred their initial route. Burke had expressed no doubts about the APC’s ability to tackle the slopes but had wanted to see that no lances of steel projected from them, ready to rip the skirts and reduce their ride height and the power they could put on the ground.
Through the sights mounted on the turret cannon, Libby watched the bright pinpricks of light that were the smoke rounds bursting. They landed constantly, several at a time along the river frontage, blossoming into a fast expanding sheet of white light that obliterated everything else as the intense heat of phosphorous momentarily defeated the lens’ self-balancing optics.
“How is it looking.” Dooley tried to squeeze up beside the gunner but could do no more than attract his attention.
“It looks like that artillery officer is doing us proud. If the Ruskies here are only getting light stuff, just smoke, then the poor sods else where must be getting a hell of a pasting.” Swivelling the turret slowly with the hand control, Libby watched fires being started amongst the shattered remains of buildings, as the smoke rounds caused flame to race up the plastic rain pipes and across the guttering. Where the vulnerable material caught it sagged and slowly rained droplets of squealing fire. The flame spread along the eaves of the apartment blocks and forced billowing smoke from beneath the tiles in great clouds.
“Still a few minutes to go yet.” Clarence changed position slightly, so that the deep indent in his hand made by the rifle barrel was eased. “I hope no one at HQ suddenly realises the volume of ammunition this enthusiastic artillery man is getting through.”
“If they do then we shall likely be going forward with less than ideal cover.” Revell listened to the grouses and countered each in turn with some comment that would crush the problem, or steer it towards humour or a new direction. It had always surprised him how often he did little more than play straight feed to the worries, the fears, of his men. But it always seemed to be like that before going into action. A brittle humour masked fear well.
When it was just five minutes to go he used the rear escape hatch to exit the Iron Cow and make a circuit of the vehicle to ensure that everything was still in order. From some unknown origin a fragment had scored the side of the hull, making a long graze in the still sticky spilt paint but doing no damage. He was surprised to hear the steps behind him and turned to see Sergeant Hyde joining him for the check-over.
The mortar rounds had switched to fresh targets several times but with their departure imminent the barrage had transferred back to the bank immediately opposite. Now, as the smoke drifted across the river it had become sufficiently thick to cover their moving about without fear they would come under observation from enemy snipers. Even so, several times, they heard the sharp cutting zip of rounds passing not far over-head and the clatter of machine guns firing blind on fixed lines.
“I wonder if one of those would set off the bomb?” Hyde listened to the distant rattle of the Russian machine guns and the heavier, slower crack of twenty and thirty millimetre cannon adding their contribution to the counter barrage. It was still pitifully weak though, indicating that so far, mercifully, the enemy was only just beginning to reach the river in any numbers.
“We’ll never know.” It amused Revell to realise that he was speaking the literal truth. If something, a bullet or a red-hot fragment from a mortar round, were to set off the ‘A’ bomb while they were close to it then truly they would never know. From now on every second might quite literally be their last, and they would have no knowledge of it. Suddenly he realised that it was not something to be frightened of… Carson knew all about the bomb, but was he frightened? The bags under his eyes suggested he might worry, or it could just be that he was worked too hard or at his age maybe played too hard.
Strange that it took the close proximity of a nuclear weapon to put these thoughts in to his head. A single round from a sniper rifle might have ended it all for him anytime in the last year or two. He had gone in to action on the first day of the war and now against all odds he was still here. Did he deserve to be? But then did anyone…it just didn’t do to dwell on such things. He shook the uncomfortable thoughts away and returned to the Iron Cow, securing the hatch.
“Thirty seconds Major.” Burke, in the driver seat, had been quietly keeping count. Now Revell looked at his own watch and saw the hand sweeping to the moment…
Slapping the button that would elevate the Commanders chair, Revell felt the hydraulics lift him to the observation cupola. His eyes came level with it at the instant an incendiary round smacked in to the blank side-wall of a distant public building. It did not penetrate, its designers had never meant it to, instead the thin casing of the shell burst apart and spewed its contents down the brickwork, the short distance up to and under the eaves and out and across the road, forming a wall of white fire. He closed his eyes against the glare. They were going with the last light of the day and he did not want to go in to action with his vision blurred.
All of the crew were laced up to the internal communications network. Revell knew he did not have to raise his voice to be heard. “OK, start the engines.”
Burke nestled deeper into his drivers seat and gripped the controls. He watched the oil pressure come up and engaged the fuel boost pumps, moving the throttle forward to ground idle. At twenty percent of maximum revolutions per minute he watched the twin gauges monitoring the turbine temperatures. The indicators on the main screen spun upwards and he waited for the moment when the turbofans internal temperature would reach the optimum. Number one lit up and he gave it a moment to run and settle to steady readings before activating number two.
“OK Major, all good.”
“Right, let’s go. We’ve got a nuclear weapon to bring home.”
“Why wasn’t I told?” General Zucharnin screamed the words and the officer in front of him, flanked by two grim looking field police, visible shrank. “You think there is some virtue in keeping such things a secret from me?”
“Comrade General, I reported to General Lieutenant Gregori, your second in command. That is the proper procedure.”
Crossing to the door, wrenching it open, the general shouted to the staff in his outer office. “I want Gregori here, or on the ‘phone now.”
The glass cracked with a sharp whiplash of sound as it was slammed. It had hardly closed before the General ripped it open again. “Well, have you got him you blockhead.”
The field telephone on the desk gave a weak jangling ring. Snatching up the handset General Zucharin had no time for niceties. “Gregori. One of your staff officers has just informed me your men are working on a nuclear demolition device under the flyovers at the eastern end of the city.”
“You didn’t think to advise me?”
“Stand up straight!” He glared at the escorted officer, who appeared to be on the verge of fainting.
The young officer sagged, lolled first to one side and then the other, colliding with the military police. They closed on him and without seeming to do anything, shrugged him back to an upright stance with the minimum of effort and contact, as though they feared contagion.