Colonel Bestov stood, eyes wide open, holding a silent handset.
To emphasise his point, Kudryashev placed his thumb on the hammer and pulled back, the click of the hammerlock sounding like a clap of thunder in a totally quiet room.
“To create order… using all land forces available… suborning ALL available men and equipment… which includes you and your men, Comrade Polkovnik.”
Bestov’s mouth hung open as his mind tried to cope with the enormity of what was happening to him. Suddenly, a thought occurred and threw him a lifeline.
“But… but… but… you have no authority… let me see your authority!”
Kudryashev shrugged but kept the revolver level and steady as a rock.
“The paperwork will come later, Comrade Polkovnik. Now, I’ve no time for this. Accept my authority or accept arrest. Which will it be?”
“But you have no…”
“Mayor!”
Kudryashev, like many senior officers, had his own personal bodyguard, the Major commanding the small detachment stepped forward, his mere bulk enough to shut Bestov up in an instant.
The PPSh looked like a children’s toy in his huge hands, but still had the required effect on those present.
Under the Major’s orders, the stunned NKVD officer was bundled away at great speed.
Rybko took the opportunity to theatrically replace his revolver, noisily slapping the flap of his holster shut.
“Anyone else wish to dispute the Leytenant General’s right of command?”
There were no takers.
Kudryashev and Rybko, the CoS’s of 4th Shock Army and 6th Guards Army respectively, had been attending a pre-attack staff conference at Swinemünde, something that had been cut short by the Allies’ own efforts.
Instead of returning westwards to resume their own positions, the two had been headed off by Bagramyan and given the job of sealing up the enemy incursion, before destroying it, although it was more likely that they would both be relieved before then.
But for now, the two had a job to do, and coordinating the efforts of the forces to the west and south of the pocket was their first task.
Whilst by no means ideally situated to control the defence, being at the top end of a long curved defensive line, early arrival and intervention had been thought more crucial to a successful prosecution of the Allied landing.
Complete with a party of signallers, until recently happily languishing in a small training facility nearby, and now, less happily, swept up as Kudryashev’s headquarters and communications unit, the Lieutenant General and his new NKVD staff officers went to work. The priority was to contact the units under his command, establishing unit strengths, and acquiring as much information as possible.
Whilst that went on, Rybko planned an attack with the hastily designated Baltic Coastal Army.
Galkin was doing the rounds, at Crisp’s behest, dropping in on frontline units, just to get a feel of the men and their situation.
He had found Hawkes with an inevitable ‘liberated substance’ on hand, and enjoyed a nip of something warming as the two stared out into the darkness that was No Man’s Land.
The wind shifted and brought with something vaguely familiar but, as yet, unidentifiable.
“What’s that, First Sergeant?”
The sound was indistinct, but stirred pleasant memories, although there was not enough of it delivered by the stiffening breeze, at least not yet enough to have a moment of full recognition.
“Tell you something for sure, Major. Whatever it is, it ain’t good. Get the boys shaken up?”
“Quietly… I’ll get on the horn and spread the word.”
Major Galkin was in the platoon command post within seconds, and on the field telephone to Second Battalion HQ equally quickly.
“Captain Desandé please, Major Galkin here.”
“Lou? Con… there’s something happening out in front of your positions. Noise of some sort, Whatever it is, it ain’t good news, so I’ve woken up the frontline. Spread the word, Lou. Pass the stand-to up the line… let the Colonel know I’ll be staying here for the while.”
As Desandé asked a few pertinent questions, Galkin looked at his watch.
‘Just coming up to nine. On the hour… betcha.’
“Yep, Lou… Yep… nope… I’m not taking command… if you need me just holler, but this is your battalion… ’ppreciate that. Lou… yep, you too.”
At nine precisely, the culmination of Kudryashev’s and Rybko’s efforts visited itself upon the troopers of the 101st.
“URRAH!”
“URRAH!”
“URRAH!”
“Here they come!”
A young airborne Sergeant yelled what was probably the most unnecessary warning in the history of warfare.
Rybko had been cunning, for those shouting did not advance, but stayed hidden in cover, solely bringing the defenders up from their holes, ready to repulse the renewed infantry attack.
At two minutes past the hour, Soviet artillery and mortars commenced a barrage that hammered First Battalion’s entire position but, for some reason, visited itself selectively on Second Battalion.
Few in Second Battalion noticed, but those that did welcomed the fact that they were spared the deluge, whilst units either side took the full weight of the barrage.
Rybko’s plan had been to bring the defenders to readiness and then hit them with artillery, and it reaped rewards, as numerous paratroopers were ravaged by high explosives and shrapnel, their screams adding to the terror of a night that was frequently rent by flashes, and that promised death in many forms.
The ‘urrahs’ continued, although less distinct in the deafening cacophony of repeated explosions.
The explosions also masked the approach of a major asset in Rybko’s planning.
He had cut his cloth according to his means, and the NKVD BEPO Nr 319 ‘Alexsandr Shelepin’ had a vital part to play in the destruction of the Capitalist forces to his front.
It was also the reason that parts of Second Battalion, especially those near the railway tracks, had avoided the deluge of shells.
The ‘Alexsandr Shelepin’ moved forward, and the sound that had been indistinct to Hawkes and Galkin now became recognisable and, in the same moment, the reason for the space in the enemy barrage was clarified and became the shouted word.
“Train! It’s a train! They’re gonna ride straight through!”
Which was precisely the plan.
“Flares!”
A few parachute flares added their steady light to that of the numerous explosions, and the airborne defenders took their first look at a Soviet armoured train.
Allied intelligence had listed such a vehicle as immobilised at Swinemünde. That had been true, but superhuman efforts had removed the destroyed carriages and repaired the track, allowing the NKVD train to form a pivotal part of the attack.
Whilst lacking some of its firepower, the train still possessed enough clout to make a huge difference in the battle ahead, especially if it could get through the paratroopers’ defensive line, and deliver its two T50 tanks and eight dismountable SMG squads to create more confusion in the Allied rear.
If the Second Battalion let it through…
Or, more factually, if Second Battalion could stop it.
