Pyragius stressed his decision meant that no risks would be taken that could reveal their presence nearby, and any hint of confrontation then the raiding group would simply melt into the snowy night as if they were never there.
The plan would have to be constructed at the moorings, but the principles were established.
Previous convoys had consisted of barges towed by a lead boat, with another tethered to the rearmost barge to enable control.
When moored, they tended to be separated and tied up individually, which would assist in their chosen target ‘accidentally’ floating off downstream.
They would not be greedy and there were orders to make sure that, before sinking the barge, sufficient supplies were left to create the illusion that it was an accident and nothing was missing.
The best laid plans…
2259 hrs, Wednesday, 5th February 1947, the Neman River, four hundred metres south of Pupkaimis, Lithuania.
They had taken up an overwatch position during the last of the daylight hours and had been able to watch the last of the barges being secured.
What was immediately apparent was the level of security.
Previous such convoys had sported no more than ten men, but the latest arrival was accompanied by a full platoon of what were clearly alert NKVD troopers.
Pyragius, ever cautious, sent out scouts again, and reports quickly came back about more Russians nearby.
A mechanised platoon in vehicles no one recognised had concealed themselves in the woods just north of Route 141.
Word also reached the Shield that a large force of mechanised infantry had billeted themselves in Pupkaimis for the night.
They had already hidden from a third group of mechanised infantry that had moved westwards towards Raudonė itself.
Bouzyk had sketched the new vehicles as best he could, snatching glances they drove past the concealed SAS unit. The presence of three T-70 light tanks further reinforced the suspicion that the river convoy was more than the norm.
Pyragius held a council of war and nearly called off the operation but the group’s doctor, along to identify certain medicines, convinced him that the needs outweighed the risks.
The decision made, Pyragius made the signal and a group of ‘civilians’ approached the Soviet encampment, bringing with them music and alcohol and, more importantly to the NKVD platoon guarding the barges, women.
A simple hand signal initiated the mission, and the Lithuanian partisan leader watched as the two inflatables slid into the icy water, each manned by two SAS soldiers in Soviet NKVD uniforms.
Those at rest amongst the Soviet platoon were very much at ease, the unexpected arrival of such simple pleasures enough to keep their minds off their charges.
The dozen men who walked the perimeter were kept focussed by their officer, a man who had neither time for wine and song, or women for that matter.
But the night was dark and his efforts were not totally rewarded as patrolling guards spent less time near the cold water and more gravitating towards the sounds of pleasure emanating from around their vehicles.
The target had been chosen before the dinghies had slipped into the Neman, and the four SAS men silently and inexorably homed in on it.
There were three defined ‘bays’ into which the twelve barges had been pulled, one of them slightly irregular, which had dictated that the fourth barge had not been moored as the others, but instead lay side on to the bank and still in the flowing stream of the river.
What they had not counted on was the blizzard that had started as they had put their paddles in the water.
The heavy snow obscured a great deal; the ability to see was reduced to next to nothing in an instant and the noise of it was sufficient to mask the gentle sound of paddles moving water and override much of the noisy revelry from the other bank.
Members of ‘The Shield’ were spread out along the opposite bank, covering with instructions not to fire unless given a direct order.
There was a covering group a hundred metres away, concealed to the west and on the same bank as the convoy was moored, ready to react as Janina dictated. They were supported by the rest of the SAS contingent under Bottomley.
For now, the members of ‘The Shield’ lay low and held their collective breath.
Cookson motioned to the other dinghy and Corporal Tappett mirrored his actions, both men sitting up to tie a holding line in place before grasping the side of the barge and levering themselves upwards, knives at the ready.
The two NCOs swiftly moved around the small craft, but found no sentries.
Cookson nodded to Tappett who took station by the bow mooring line, where there was also a small gangplank.
His job was twofold.
Firstly to provide security as the rest of the small team deployed and secondly, when the time was right, to undo the mooring line.
Cookson moved amongst the cargo, seeing the tell-tale signs of foodstuffs and medical supplies.
‘Fucking jackpot!’
He slipped up to the river-side of the barge and signalled with a shielded red lens torch, which sign was only just recognisable to the waiting partisans through the heavy snow.
Bouzyk and Cadbury were gestured aboard.
They tugged on the small lines secured to the back of the dinghies, signalling the bank that both were now unmanned
Bouzyk took station at the rear mooring and all eyes focussed on Cookson.
He pumped his fist and the lines went slack, undone, not cut.
Cadbury was at the bow and used his paddle to gently steer their barge away from contact with its companion.
The Neman then played its part, applying a gentle force to the barge, which started to move downstream.
All eyes switched back to the moorings, waiting for any sign of alarm.
But there was none.
Careful not to disturb the tarpaulins too much, Cookson was joined by Cadbury and some of the crates were shifted to one side, ready for when they could unload some of their prize into the dinghies or, hopefully, into waiting hands on the bank.
Downriver, Audra Karelis’ group was entrusted with a vital task; that of ‘catching’ the barge.
With one party on the southern bank and one in a small rowing boat, lines were ready to throw out to the SAS soldiers, who in turn would secure them to the barge.
The other end would already be secured to the southern side
Pyragius hoped the barge would be nearer the southern bank, but took no chances, posting another force on the northern side with lines at the ready, just in case.
The barge, fickle and uncooperative, moved into the centre of the river, and remained almost central between the banks as it slowly approached the point where Karelis’ line parties waited.
The river narrowed to about two hundred metres at that point, but even so, the rowers poured with sweat as they juggled to get their small craft near enough to get lines aboard the barge.
They managed… just… and Tappett swiftly wound the line around the bollard, carefully trying to get his fingers out of the way in case the line went taut.
It did, and he didn’t.
Little and fourth finger disappeared between the metal bollard and the line and were immediately crushed.
Tappett added more pain to the mix as he bit his tongue in an effort to control himself.
Bouzyk heard the muffled gasp and reacted with incredible speed.
He grabbed the line and pulled it away from the bollard, allowing a moment’s separation that allowed Tappett to pull his ruined hand out.