With the shortage of officers, Sgt Osgood and CSM Probert were now each commanding rifle platoons, which were attacking in a two sections up, one back formation. As a trench was taken, it was occupied by the victors who then put down fire on the next position, covering their mates as they leap-frogged forward from position to position.
Oz was out of breath when the last of his platoons’ objectives had been taken. Muscles were threatening to turn to jelly as reaction set in, but he combated this by organising his sections to take the Russian in-depth positions under fire. The enlarged mortar platoon had kept that enemy occupied and unable to do more than risk the occasional shot in support of their forward positions. The Warriors and Challengers moved up and added their fire to that of the infantry as the two companies of the 82nd Airborne showed the Brits that they were pretty good at this stuff too.
Earlier at the O Groups, there were smiles raised on the Toms faces when call signs had been given. The Americans had given their companies the call signs; Metal Falcon’s One and Two, which the CO thought was a bit too John Wayne-ish, so he had given himself the call sign ‘Rubber Duck’ and called his two Coldstream rifle companies, Plastic Chicken and Paper Parrot. Not since the Korean War had American and British units fought side by side. Both armies thought they were the best but had no real chance to prove it until today, although nobody was actually keeping a tally, holding a stopwatch or awarding marks for artistic merit. As dawn turned to daylight, both units held each other in genuine respect, with the taking of the Autobahn junction.
The Russians fought hard, with skill and not a little courage either, but for once they had been on the receiving end and it was forty minutes after the infantry assault began, before Russian shells began to arrive, and those batteries delivering them received swift response from NATO. As the Russian shelling died out, 2LI passed through the Guards and 82nd Airborne to take on the next Russian positions, at the airport perimeter. To their right, 7th/8th Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders had won their fight too and the US paratroopers and British infantry heard the sound of bagpipes.
“Poor, poor bastards!” said Reed sadly. Major Popham looked at the colonel before peering into the distance, toward the sound.
“Is there a problem?”
“The Jocks are using their porridge guns on the Russians!” replied the colonel, as he listened to the distant strains of The Black Bear.
In Schkeuditz to the south of the junction, Senior Lieutenant of Paratroops Nikoli Bordenko received a quick set of orders from his company commander as their company was to pull out of their own battalions in-depth positions enroute to reinforce the battalion at the airport. Apparently word had only just arrived that the battalion there was about to be overrun and time was of the essence, so he gathered his men and they hurriedly boarded requisitioned civilian trucks.
The Mao and the Kuznetsov were making twenty six knots on a course of 180’ when Vice Admiral Putchev stepped out of the helicopter that had delivered him, once more to the Chinese flagship… Crouching low to avoid being beheaded, he hurried from the machine as it spooled up and lifted off the flight deck. Captain Hong saluted whilst smiling enthusiastically at the Russian naval officer.
“Welcome back, sir… how was your flight?”
“Interminable, we were an hour out of Vladivostok when I got my orders to come back. We had to continue in to refuel before returning, so I have been in the air for virtually twenty-four hours’ and my ass is numb.”
He paused to observe the welding going on above their heads. “American Harpoon, I have only heard about the battle second hand?” he queried.
Captain Hong led him to his cabin and explained about the submarine attack and the air strikes, which had been two separate battles, and fought on different days, contrary to the propaganda version.
The captain had already requested a more substantial submarine screen than they’d had previously, along with replacements for the frigates and destroyers that had been lost.
“So tell me Captain,” began the Russian Admiral.
“How long before the Americans use nuclear weapons on us, and where are the Americans other carriers and submarines?”
They had reached the Admirals cabin and a seaman opened the cabin door for them.
Inside they found that the previous occupant’s belongings were still in place, and Hong fired off some harsh words in rapid fire Cantonese at the seaman, demanding to know why the cabin was not ready for Vice Admiral Putchev. The seaman looked stricken when he replied, before dashing away.
“My wife speaks like that to me, usually when I have had too much vodka than is good for me… I couldn’t fathom what she say’s either, it was rather too fast for my European ear?” stated the Russian.
Hong apologised for the condition of the cabin.
“He has been engaged on repair duties and forgot. He asked where he should send the effects, I told him to dump them over the side, after he had removed any items of value for himself and his mess mates.”
“I take it that the late Admiral Li did not improve with age?”
The Chinese officer shook his head.
“You could say that… if you would accompany me to my cabin sir, I can properly brief you on events?”
Captain Hong knew that his own cabin was clear of any electronic surveillance by his own country’s or the Russians intelligence services.
The briefing took about three hours’ during that time the Russian listened intently and asked only pertinent questions, such as replacements for the lost aircraft. He was gratified to learn that even before the carriers had gone operational, the PLAN had implemented a training program for replacement pilots. Those joining would be better prepared than their predecessors had been. It was such a pleasant change from the former Admirals attitude, thought Hong. Now we can really show what we can do.
When the brigade assigned the task of seizing the city had landed in the city’s park there had been no opposition at first. Only a few die-hard lovers who refused to let something as trivial as a war cool their ardour, had been witness to the first sticks of paratroopers landing. As was his habit, the colonel general led from the front and was the first man on the ground, quickly followed by his staff. The landing had remained unopposed for fifteen minutes until four carloads of civilian police had arrived. The police officers had been dispatched after a short, rather one-sided fire fight, but during that time Alontov’s second in command had been shot through the throat and died moments later. His aide had landed on railings and been impaled through his left foot, which reduced the number of officers on the division’s staff capable of commanding it to one, Alontov himself.
Headquarters for the 6th Guards Shock Army’s airborne division, was now situated in the sub-basement of the exclusive 18th century Kempinski Hotel Fürstenhof, where a modest single room would set you back just $265 a night, provided of course you left the mini bar alone and brought your own sandwiches.
The signals unit had set up its communications equipment as soon as they had moved in, but they had not powered it up until that morning when their cell phones went down. A major entered the particular catacomb that Colonel General Alontov and what remained of his operations staff were occupying and saluted.