According to Colonel Lužar’s reckoning they had eighteen miles to cover before reaching the bridgehead, and a tank could drink a lot of fuel covering that distance, so it came as something of a surprise to his battalion and company commanders when he did not choose to rely on a flank guard and forward screen to provide security for the bulk of the regiment so it could use the more fuel economical roads.
43rd MRR moved off the road and into arrowhead formation behind a screen of reconnaissance vehicles and before long everyone from Lieutenant Colonels to lowly private soldiers had caught on to their regimental commanders’ mood. They moved in expectation of making contact with the enemy at any time, be it in the shape of a meeting engagement or a prepared defence.
The first indication of what they were up against came half an hour later, the recce screen called up with a sitrep and a map reference that Lužar ordered his driver to make for.
The dark shapes on fire damaged tarmac were all that remained of a convoy of over forty vehicles and Lužar dismounted in order to better investigate. There were no signs of the myriad cratering that would have accompanied an attack using cluster bomb units; a force had ambushed these vehicles on the ground he concluded.
He returned to his vehicle and they continued onwards until coming upon another convoy to have fallen to direct fire from the ground. The vehicles were all burnt out, carrying the scars of bullet and shell but not of the artillery or aerial variety. Shell craters were few. It was the first of many such scenes. More convoys, artillery gun lines, logistics dumps and AAA sites had also fallen victim and the 43rd MRR passed them all.
At ten miles back from the bridgehead they found the first signs of enemy casualties, a burnt out Leopard tank stood at the edge of a turnip field whilst extending away from it into the distance were its killers. They were also dead, killed by the Canadians heavier main gun that would have sent projectiles through their light armour with ease.
Weight of numbers had given the Soviet’s a costly victory; accounting for that Leopard, one other and also a trio of TOW equipped vehicles.
It was difficult for Colonel Lužar to describe the emotions he was feeling as he regarded the corpses of BTRs, their crews, and the light tanks that were so easily recognisable due to their flat-topped turrets.
43rd Motor Rifle Regiment had found its missing battalion.
Regimental reconnaissance elements had crossed through the field several minutes before Colonel Lužar and his command group arrived. The armoured recce vehicles leapfrogged forward, moving quickly and efficiently to the next piece of cover, to await the command to resume the advance.
In perfect cover, the Canadian’s of the 2nd Mechanised Brigade watched the specialist reconnaissance BTRs cautious movements, and in particular they noted where they disappeared into cover upon crossing the turnip field.
Several minutes went by without further movement. Five minutes became twenty.
“Hello Six Nine, this is Nine, radio check, over?”
2Lt Ferguson was peering down a Swiftscope, a scope previously sited by his platoon sergeant who had ensured the lens was in deep shadow before he had allowed the officer to use it.
The call was repeated twice before a slightly testy note appeared in the voice.
“Hello Six Nine, this is Nine, radio check, over?”
A lance corporal nudged the young officer.
“That means you, sir!” he hissed.
“Er, Six Nine okay thanks…over.” 2Lt Ferguson saw the NCO shake his head in disbelief, and he cringed inwardly at having screwed up basic voice procedure, and to the commanding officer, of all people.
There was a pause at the other end as the CO wished down a plague of boils upon all ‘subbies’.
“Nine okay, sitrep over?”
“Six Nine, no movement, no movement at all, over…oh hang on, I can see someone.”
A single figure had appeared, striding across the field. He was wearing camouflage clothing just as soiled and muddy as the concealed Canadians wore, but his steel helmet and uniform was that of the enemy.
Young Ferguson could see him in quite sharp detail through the scope. He walked unconcernedly, empty handed, apparently unarmed, and also in need of a shave and a few square meals.
Six hundred metres distant from Ferguson, the enemy soldier stopped walking but did not take cover; he instead extracted cigarettes from a breast pocket and lit up, staring across at the woodland where the hidden Canadians waited.
With his attention on the lone soldier, Lt Ferguson all but missed the objects flying outwards from the same cover the BTRs had moved into. Smoke belched out, creating a dense screen that hid the enemy vehicles and the lone soldier. The Canadians heard the sound of the eight wheelers reversing.
A breeze carried away the smoke to reveal the enemy soldier once more, and behind him could be glimpsed one of the BTRs, still backing away.
Colonel Lužar finished his cigarette and sent it spinning away with a flick of a finger. He unzipped his smock, pulling out a soft, cloth, uniform cap bearing his regiments badge proudly, at which point he removed his helmet.
Ferguson watched the hatless soldier regard it for a moment, and then to his surprise toss it casually aside.
Pulling the old uniform cap into place, Leo Lužar turned his back on an enemy he knew was out there somewhere, and walked back the way he had come.
Henry Shaw had become the sounding board for a fair percentage of those in the situation room, as the battle for Germany developed. He maintained a poker face as events across the Atlantic were depicted on the big screen, yet still there were those who would look from the screen to his face to try and divine from his expression how good or bad things were going. Surely they couldn’t have thought everything was rosy, when air raids got through and dropped two of the main road bridges across the Rhine and the Weser that 4 Corps was reliant upon to get to the front?
It wasn’t all bad news; the data stream from JSTARS was showing a comprehensively beaten Romanian battalion backing away from the British 2nd Battalion Light Infantry, thanks to damn good liaison and teamwork between all the Arms involved, not just that battalion of infantry.
Initially the artillery, tanks, and the attached Lynx and Apache helicopters had allowed the Romanians of the 112th Motor Rifle Regiments tank battalion to cross the valley floor unhindered by themselves, whilst the battered but still defiant parachute companies of the French 2REP, who were dug in to the front of the Brits, had held the enemy’s attention. 112th MRR thought they were about to bulldozer the thin line of legionnaires that had been stinging them ever since they had crossed the crest of the east side of the valley. However, at 2000m the British had unleashed a textbook perfect TOT, with every weapon they possessed which had the range. The Romanians ran into a wall of fire from Milan, Hellfire, TOW, 120mm sabot and 155mm improved munitions.
The Legions parachute companies had successfully withdrawn through the Light Infantry and sixty percent of 112th’s tank company had been destroyed, the remainder were fleeing and had become entangled with the battalion following on, spoiling the momentum of that units attack and providing the defenders with a target rich environment of armoured fighting vehicles milling about in confusion.