Dissatisfied with remaining in the back of an MTLB and trying to run the battle far back from where the action was, Trusov had returned to his trusted T-80K. Major Chadov and the other officers of his command group following close behind in two MTLBs and some box-bodied Zil-131s. Tucked in behind the forested high ground that was topped by Callenburg Castle, now occupied by a reconnaissance platoon of the division’s reconnaissance battalion, Trusov kept a tight control over his forces.
Major Chadov was sitting on the edge of the turret, communication lines linked to the MTLB alongside.
“Six-Two-Six, this is Six-Two-Zero. Commence. Over.” He waited for the acknowledgement.
“Wave one, two and three are crossing now, sir.”
Trusov nodded. Well, the engineers are on their way. It’s started now, he thought.
Under heavy cover of smoke and an almost constant bombardment to keep the British Brigade’s soldiers’ heads down, he had given the go-ahead for the first three waves. Although the depth of the river was acceptable, the flow speed wasn’t perfect at just under four metres per second. But they would have to deal with it. He had split his 500 metre section of the River Leine into three. From Sector one in the north and Sector three in the south, he was sending over PTSs, tracked amphibious vehicles, capable of carrying a BMP along with motor rifle troops. In addition, K-61s would carry troops across. Hip helicopters had already landed a small force, accompanied by engineers to check for minefields. Hind-Ds, like demons from hell, ranged up and down the river, firing at anything that moved. Bullets ricocheted off their protective titanium shells, making them feel invulnerable. Their confidence was dented slightly when a lucky shot from a Blowpipe missile took off the tail of one of the hovering demons. The aircraft pilots were a little more cautious, but still made it difficult for the British tanks and Milan FPs to respond.
Sixteen Hinds were supporting the crossing. British forces, reeling from a forty-minute bombardment and coming to terms with the numerous military casualties as a consequence of the chemical strike from the TMS-65s, reinforced by the use of chemical artillery shells, had spotted them through the smokescreen that was slowly diminishing. They soon had the engineers pinned down, but with the arrival of the PTSs carrying BMP-2s, and the constant fire from attack-helicopters they were the ones ending up being pinned down. A British tank troop sent to reinforce, was ambushed by the Air Assault Battalion that was now on their flank, and slowly moving behind the NATO forces to link up with the bridgehead. To make matters worse, the first wave of the 108th Guards Air Assault Regiment had also landed, diverting British troops from the defence of the river and threatening to cut them off. The opposite bank was lined with fifty tanks from the independent tank regiment, T-12 anti-tank guns, and troops with AGS-17s. The minute the British troops raised their heads and were seen through the smokescreen, the tanks were able to bring direct fire against them. The barrels of the tanks became hot as they poured round after round into the opposite bank, being careful to aim high so as not to hit their own men.
In Sector two, the middle point, the river crossing consisted of GSPs, two tracked amphibious units amalgamated as one, to form a ferry capable of carrying a main battle tank. Two mine-clearing tanks, mounted with KMT-5 mine-clearing devices, along with four of Trusov’s T-80s, were on their way across.
Trusov knew he was taking a chance sending across heavy armour so soon, but felt it was best to hit hard and quickly. The clock was ticking and he was becoming impatient just sitting there, knowing that the General would be watching his actions closely. Trusov knew the smokescreen would disappear very soon, blowing back across the British units and exposing his own men. Then NATO air and artillery strikes would come again.
“Second wave is moving, sir,” Chadov informed him.
Thank God, he thought. More troops to cross, including BRDM-2 Sagger missile carriers and BMPs. Another area of Sector two would also start rolling. Tanks would be wading across, using the BROD-M snorkeling system, allowing them to ford depths of up to twelve metres. BMP-2s, although they had an amphibious capability, would have to cross on the GSPs. The water speed was too fast and there wasn’t the time to bring in engineer support.
The Major handed the headset and mike to his Commander.
“Six-Two-Zero, Six-Two-Zero. Artillery fire in sectors one and two. One K-61 and one PTS destroyed. One BMP destroyed on the bank and one T-80 hit and stranded. Over.”
“Identify yourself!”
“Sorry, sir. Six-Two-One.” Lieutenant-Colonel Antakov, the Commander of the 1st Battalion, 62nd Guards Tank Regiment, sounded flustered.
“Has the smoke cleared? Can you see a bridgehead?”
“Smoke has cleared. Small bridgehead, maybe 300 metres, out to 200.”
“Get your men ready. Six-Two-Zero. Out.”
“We’re across then, sir?” asked the Major.
“We are for the moment. Get back to your coffin, Major. We’re going forward. I want those Hinds covering, understood?”
“Yes, sir.” The Major swallowed, then dropped down to join the crew of the MTLB and follow his lunatic commander closer to where the fighting was.
“Kokorev, take us to the river. We’re heading for Sector one. Barsukov, you direct him.” Both acknowledged and the T-80K made its way down to the water’s edge, half a kilometre away.
“Six-Two-Two, Six-Two-Four, this is Six-Two-Zero. Situation report. Over.”
“Six-Two… Zero… Six-Two-Four… I have a full company across… heavy… casualties… five BMPs, two PTS and three K-61s destroyed. Two… BRDM-Saggers operational… holding. Over.” The sound of gunfire and explosions were audible in the background.
“Hold your ground, Pyotr. Tanks are on their way to you.”
“We’re not… going anywhere… sir.”
“Six-Two-Zero, Six-Two-Two. One mine-clearing tank destroyed, two T-80s, one lost in the river. Sector two and Sector three secure. Four T-80s just landed, will link up with Six-Two-Four. Over.”
“Excellent, Kirill. I shall be coming to you. Just hang in there.”
“Sir,” called Barsukov. “We’re approaching Sector one. It’s under fire.”
“Keep going.”
“Six-Two-Six, Six-Two-Zero. Pontoon ferries ready? Over.”
“Three. Over.”
“Are they in the water?”
“All three are ready.”
The T-80K came to a halt and Trusov pushed the hatch open above his head as he heard a metallic rap on the top, and was met by Major Chadov.
“Division have been on, sir, screaming for an update. I told them we were across and that you would update them soon. They… ah… weren’t too pleased that you were so far forward, sir.”
“Never mind that. I want the NBC recce platoon across next. This sector. There should be enough PTSs left. I need to know how much contamination is left. It must be murder for them fighting in NBC kit. You stay here. I’m crossing at Sector two.”
“But, sir—”
“Just do it. Make sure the BRDM-2 RKhs get across. Start moving elements of the anti-tank battalion across as well, in case they counter-attack. That will release our tanks to move forward. We need to expand the bridgehead. Oh, and get some SA-9s across. Let’s beef up their air defence.”