The comradeship Yarishlov felt for his men greatly helped him overcome his daily personal struggle with pain and the after-effects of his horrendous injuries.
“Right… that’s the guests sent on their way with their briefing. Any changes to the normal planning?”
Harazan raised his hand, as he always did, ever conscious of his lower rank and status amongst his fellow officers, and therefore always striving to achieve better and better results.
“Comrade General, I believe that we may profit from advancing our minefields. I’ve noticed that the units tend to deploy into battle formation around here.”
He leant over a detailed model table that covered all of the tank training grounds, from Bataevka on the Astrakhan-Akhtubinsk highway, across to the main base at Baskunchak, a distance of some thirty-five kilometres, running north to south a mean distance of forty-two kilometres.
The Verkhiny Baskunchak facility was, at just under one thousand five hundred square kilometres, the second largest mock battlefield in the whole of the USSR.
Yarishlov examined the idea and found himself flanked by his two colonels.
“I understand your suggestion, Comrade… but wouldn’t that make getting around them easier?”
“Only if they know they’re there, Comrade General. In the last six sessions run with this general scenario, this is the place where they shake out from march order to battle order… without fail.”
Yarishlov looked at the men either side of him for input.
Both were clearly mulling over the issue.
Zorin spoke first.
“And if they shake out beforehand… and detect the minefields and go around them?”
“Hold on.”
Everyone focussed on Bailianov.
“If we advance the fields to this point, as young Harazan suggests… but we do so carelessly… so they can be seen… where would you deploy your tanks, Nikolay?”
Yarishlov had the answer already, but Zorin carefully considered his response.
“I’d be round the sides of it… both sides probably… with a view to a two-pronged assault… actually that would work better for me overall, so it’s a non-starter I think.”
Yarishlov laughed.
“I’m thinking that Edward Georgievich has something rather nasty up his sleeve. Tell him.”
Bailianov took the wooden blocks representing his rocket and gun anti-tank troops and moved them forward, following them up with a few of his infantry groups.
Zorin swore.
“Fucking hell. Remind me never to fight you for real. That’s a bitch.”
“Isn’t it just? By moving up the mines… and moving up the AT screen, we disorganise them quicker and further out, take them in this more favourable ground, and be back to our normal first line of defence long before they’re back in condition to advance.”
Both Bailianov and Harazan beamed, until Zorin threw his bucket of water on the idea.
“They’ll cry foul of course. It’s in advance of the agreed combat line, Comrades.”
Their pink-skinned commander had a glint in his eye that no-one had noticed, not even Harazan, who taken his idea to his commander before the meeting.
Yarishlov had willingly participated in the little subterfuge to bolster the younger man’s self-worth issues.
“There was an alteration to the written brief that our adversaries took with them. Did you not notice? And with your legendary attention to the smallest of matters too…”
Both colonels grabbed their copies and turned to the relevant page.
Bailianov laughed and dropped his copy on the table.
“So, you two hashed this up between you, eh?”
“Not at all. I played a small part, of course, but it was young Harazan’s idea from the start.”
“Remind me never to piss off my commander, Edward. What a bastard!”
Zorin got a curt nod by way of reply, Bailianov’s rumble of laughter making him unable to speak effectively.
Yarishlov had altered the map work relative to the upcoming mock battle. It now reflected a different ‘end of march’ line, one that fitted in with Harazan’s plans.
“Well, if nothing else, it’ll teach the pair of them attention to detail!”
They all laughed, except Kriks, who adopted a face displaying mick anger and severity.
“Fucking officers picking on the poor front line soldiery again. Lying, deceitful lot! Just to make yourselves look good. I’m disgusted by the lot of you and I’ll complain to Comrade Stalin first chance I get. He’ll sort you out!”
“Now, now, you peasant. Calm yourself or the first chance you get will be when you get off the transport to Siberia.”
The officers dissolved into laughter at Harazan’s retort, as did Kriks, once he got over the shock of being harangued by the boy of the group.
“Fuck it. What do I care? Least we’re all out of harm’s way and the war’s a million miles away. I need a drink.”
He pulled out his flask and passed it round the cheerful group.
Whilst the war wasn’t a million miles away, it was a long way off, but none of them realised that the war was coming to them, and that by the end of the following day, more of them would be dead than remained alive.
Copyright
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright holder. The author has asserted the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Copyright © 2016 – Colin Gee
If I might take the opportunity to explain copyright in the simplest terms. It means that those of you who decide to violate my rights by posting this and others of my books on websites that permit downloading of copyrighted materials, are not only breaking the law, but also depriving me of money.
You may not see that as an issue, but I spend a lot of my limited funds to travel and research, just to make sure I get things as right as I can.
I ask you sincerely, please do not break the copyright, and permit me to profit properly from the labours I have undertaken.
Thank you.