“Even numbers… go on!” After about thirty seconds he would depress the top of the alarm again and order the odd numbers to continue, and thus far they had managed to conserve ammunition as well as they could and keep the remaining Russians heads down.
Colin had confined himself to the radio, trying to drum up some support of the physical kind, i.e., troops to help them enlarge their foothold within the airport perimeter. The mortar fire coming in on they had ceased abruptly when an A-10 Thunderbolt wasted the enemy mortar line responsible, but that had been chance, rather than Colin’s doing.
“Hello Sunray Three One, this is Zulu Three One Alpha, over.” The ‘Zulu’ denoted a vehicle empty of its troops; in this case it was the Warrior at the corner of the building, which was calling him up.
“Sunray Three One, send over?” answered Colin. ‘Sunray’ is the name for a unit or sub-units commander and the CSM was now the acting platoon commander of No. 1 Platoon, 3 Company.
“Zulu Three One Alpha, we see figures four Papa Tango Seventy-Twos and figures six Bravo Mike Papas headed your way, over!”
“Three One roger… all Zulus standby to collect your call signs and Foxtrot Oscar.” he rolled to the side and stuck his head out the back of his tiny sangar before calling out to Arnie.
“Regimental Sarn’t major… !”
When Arnie’s face appeared, Colin gave him the thumbs down gesture, the sign for ‘enemy’.
“Armour and APCs coming our way… our carriages await us to foxtrot oscar, pee dee quu!”
Arnie nodded. “I’ll stay with my guys until you get mounted!” but Colin shook his head.
“My wagons closest sir, I’ll keep my section here until I hear that thing in your hand, then we’ll bug out.”
It was the practical thing to do and Arnie nodded in agreement.
Colin dragged the radio out of his sangar and pulled it onto his back as he crawled across to the section of Coldstreamers from his vehicle.
“Lance Sarn’t Daid, give it some!”
He let the section commander give the order for rapid fire and twisted his head to watch as RSM Moore shepherded the remainder out of the back door.
Colin hand his rifle to the gimpy gunner.
“Gimme the gun… get them moving lance sarn’t, I’ll be right behind you.”
The first BMP and light tank appeared as they ran for the door, and Colin aimed short bursts at their vehicle commanders’ heads, which were peering out in the direction of the rather battered warehouse, before he turned and sprinting for the far doorway.
He didn’t hear the light tanks main gun fire, but its shell entered the front of the warehouse through a gap in the brickwork and struck a weakened roof support at the back. Colin found himself sat on his backside and choking on the dust and smoke from the explosion that had collapsed of the roof at the back end of the building. He could see enough to know that the only way out was through the front, under the Russian guns.
“All stations Three One, from Sunray, I’m screwed… bug out, NOW!”
His soldiers’ instincts were to come back and try to extract him, but he was a company sergeant major and they were the Guards, which meant that you did as you were told at the time and bitched about it later.
Popping smoke, the Warriors beat feet for friendly lines whilst keeping the warehouse between themselves and the enemy AFVs.
Colin looked at the belt on the gun; he had about fifteen rounds remaining although he still had one full magazine in his left pouch. He crawled back the way he had come and gathered up discarded links, ejected from the gimpy along with the empty cases. It hardly made much difference to his chances, five short bursts worth, but on emptying his magazine he hurriedly linked up the twenty rounds into a belt, that he then clipped to the end of the one already on the gun, after that he just waited.
After throwing smoke, Nikoli, his platoon, and one other closed in on the wrecked warehouse. All the loops made in the walls by the NATO troops had received a round apiece from the BMPs 23mm cannons.
He had been prepared to request that the building be flattened; rather than lose any more good men, however, the divisional commander himself was on scene and wanted prisoners.
On reaching the comparative safety on the front wall without taking casualties, Nikoli’s unwelcome attachment had approached to within three feet of a damaged section of wall, and called out in English. The hole made by the defenders had been the size of two bricks; the APCs cannon had widened it enough to crawl through, if one were feeling suicidal of course.
Nikoli was close behind the man, who had burdened him with the added responsibility of his presence.
“Hello in there, why don’t you come on out… without your weapons of course”?
After a few moments a voice had answered.
“Why aye… an’ why don’t yez jus’ fuckin’ come on in too, like… we out yer bondook of course, hinney?”
Colonel General Alontov turned to Nikoli with a frown on his face. “I do not have the faintest idea of what he said?”
Nikoli was frowning too.
“He’s a Geordie sir, from Tyneside in the north-east of England, the north side of the river Tyne where it runs through the city of Newcastle, to be exact… and his wife’s name is Janet.”
Alontov stared at the young lieutenant, he was not even aware that the man even spoke the language, now it seemed he was an expert in dialects… and possibly having a joke at his commanders expense.
“Company Sarn’t Major Probert… Colin, stop fucking about and come out. None of you will be harmed… it’s Lieutenant Bordenko.”
“Fanny M… well fuck me but it’s a small world!”
Colin had laid the accent on thick when the first voice had called on him to surrender. On hearing his friend’s voice he answered in his usual accent, which was much diluted by years in the army.
“Lieutenant… ?” Alontov queried his subordinate.
“I spent some time as an observer with the British Army, until the war started in fact sir. That man is a friend of mine… and a very good soldier, he may well decide to go down fighting.”
Alontov looked at his watch; the last two battalions from the city would be arriving very shortly. He had a battle to fight and this diversion would have to be curtailed.
“You have five minutes to persuade him to lead his men out, after that time I will destroy the building, lieutenant… ” but Nikoli had lain down his weapon and pushed past the general, dropping down and was squirming through the hole.
Colin had been trying to watch all possible entrances at once when smoke wafted in from the outside and he had pounding feet. To the best of his knowledge, the enemy had taken no prisoners at the river and if he was not shot out of hand he had no desire to be tortured. It had come as a shock to hear Nikoli calling him by name and the daylight was blocked out from one of the holes, but he held his fire. In the gloomy interior, the only illumination was that provided by the light streaming through holes made by enemy fire. He recognised Nikoli by his breathing as he pulled himself through the hole.
“Hold your fire!” Nikoli paused when he heard Colin shout; he could see little and did not want his good deed for the day to end with a bullet, blunt or sharp edged instrument
“If you’re the first to surrender Fanny, it’s going to get a wee bit crowded in here, mate.”
Nikoli peered into the interior, trying to locate the voice. It sounded as if it came from down low so he looked there, but there were only shadows, some darker than others were. He kept his hands in plain view and looked carefully around him, if he hadn’t known better he could have sworn that he was alone here.