“Sir.”
With that, Trusov pulled the hatch back down as a bullet whined as it spun off the top of the turret. A second ping could be heard hitting elsewhere.
“Left stick. Along the river. Sector two. And quickly.”
Kokorev spun the tank on its tracks and they were soon speeding south, Sector two only 200 metres away. Barsukov turned the turret so that the main gun was pointing west, across the river, just in case a juicy target came into his sights.
“Stop, stop.” Trusov was up and out in a matter of moments, running across to where he could see the command tank of Lieutenant-Colonel Oleg Danshov, Commander of the 3rd Tank Battalion. The thump of tank rounds being fired across the water could be heard all along the entire east bank of the river as the independent tank regiment gave the crossing fire support. Once Trusov was satisfied the other bank was secure, he would unleash them on the British forces. At whatever cost, he would make sure that these additional tanks would make progress west. There was also the sharper crack as the T-12s fired blindly across the water, firing sometimes too close to their own men. But the risk was worth it.
Oleg was beside his tank, doling out orders to the unit commanders around him.
“Sir, am I glad to see you.” The response was genuine. Trusov, in his eyes, was now very much the Commander of the 62nd Guards Tank Regiment.
“The pontoons are on their way, sir. That will give us nearly a company across in one swoop.”
“The GSP?”
“We’ve lost three here, but still have three operating.”
“Well done, Oleg. You should have your entire battalion across by ten.”
Before the Commander of the 3rd Battalion could respond, their voices were drowned out by the rush of air and clatter of rotor blades as two Hind-D attack helicopters positioned themselves either side of the two command tanks. Six other Hinds hovered over the river itself, picking off any targets of opportunity that presented themselves.
“Guardian angels, ay, sir?”
“Angels of death, more like,” responded Trusov. “But welcome all the same.”
“Down, sir!” screamed Oleg has he threw himself at his Commander, dragging him to the ground between the two tanks.
Barsukov whipped the 12.7mm turret-mounted machine gun round, spinning it to follow the low-flying Harriers as they came down the line of the river from the north. Two of them swooped low, rockets firing at the tracked ferry vehicles crossing the river, laden down with BRDM-Saggers, SA-9s and T-12s. One GSP was hit immediately, sinking, taking its cargo down with it. The crew, still in their vehicle, were mainly drowned, only one lucky soldier escaped.
The first of the Harriers was torn apart as two ZSU-23/4s fired round after round into the aeroplane, its fuselage literally disintegrating as the 23mm shells tore into it. The wingman escaped, pulling up out of the devastating fire, ready to come around for a second time to use the two 30mm cannons. A second pair of Harriers targeted the armour on the riverbank, destroying a T-80 and a BMP as they passed. They also didn’t escape scot-free, as two SA-9s launched their missiles at the same time as an SA-13. The rearmost aircraft had its tail blown off, and the Harrier plummeted to the ground, the pilot ejecting safely. After another two passes, strafing the Soviet forces with their cannons, the remaining two Jump-Jets left the area, amazed that they had survived, their thoughts already switching to the two men they had just lost.
Trusov got back up. “God we’ve been lucky so far.”
“They can’t hurt us now, sir.”
The officer would have bitten his tongue off had he known what was coming next. Northern Army Group (NORTHAG), desperate to hold back the mass of Soviet tanks that were pushing their armies back all along the line, had chosen to use all the forces at their disposal. Sixteen Hawk aircraft, in four flights of four, each aircraft carrying three 200 kilogram bombs, swooped down on the Soviet bridgehead and the tanks preparing to cross. Of the company of nine tanks that had just landed on the west bank, three were destroyed. Two T-80s snorkeling across were also hit, as were four of the tanks belonging to the independent tank regiment. They then returned and strafed the ground with their 30mm Aden cannons, destroying more equipment and men, tearing apart one of the PMP pontoon ferries as it crossed the river with three tanks on board. The ferries were punctured in many places and the tanks ended up, along with their crews, on the river bed.
Out of the sixteen brave pilots, seven were shot down. Of those pilots, only four managed to eject in time, the rest hitting the ground with their crippled aircraft.
“Oh God,” groaned Oleg. “We’re finished.”
“Get a grip, Danshov,” snapped Trusov. “This is good news.”
“Good news?” asked the stunned officer.
“They have just thrown the last of their air force at us. If they have had to use their converted training aircraft, it means they have done it out of desperation. Keep those pontoons working. We must have nearly a company of tanks across by now.”
He climbed the tank and met with Barsukov reloading the red-hot machine gun.
“Well done, Barsukov, you will be rewarded for that.”
“I don’t think I hit anything, sir.”
“But you tried.” Trusov grabbed the radio transmitter. “Two-Two-Zero-Alpha, Two-Two-Zero. Over.”
“Are you OK, sir? That last attack was right over the top of you,” blurted Major Chadov.
“Yes, yes. Now listen, damn you. Get both the PMP units up here now. One to go to Sector one, the other to Sector three. They need to hurry. We have a breathing space, but it’s short.”
“Understood, sir. Over.”
“Also, I want the rest of my regiment across now. All of them. All GSPs and PMP pontoons are to be allocated to my tanks. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Right, see to it. Out.”
“One-Zero, this is Six-Two-Zero. Over.”
“Go ahead, Pavel, we’ve been waiting for your call. What’s the situation? Over.”
Pushkin. He recognised the voice of his old commander, now the Chief of Staff. “We have secured a bridgehead. Am sending the last of my tanks over now. The PMPs are being brought forward. Once my tanks are across, I will send the independent regiment either by ferry or the bridge if complete. Now is the time to commit. Over.”
“How deep is the bridgehead?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? We can’t commit without a secure bridgehead.”
“Now is the time, sir. It’s now or never.”
There was a delay before he got a response.
“Colonel Trusov, you think we should commit all now?”
“Yes, sir. They have thrown the last of their air force at us. It will be at least an hour before they can turn around and hit us again. The troops on the ground are still reeling. With my regiment across, the independent tank regiment following and two bridges laid, our committed unit will succeed. Over.”
Trusov took a deep breath. Once the PMP battalion arrived, he knew that he could get a PMP-bridge, capable of carrying tanks across, up and ready in less than an hour. If he and the other tank regiment could continue to push the enemy back, 12th Guards Tank Division, the OMG, fresh, fully fuelled and armed, with masses of support behind them, could break through.
“Pavel.”
“Yes, sir.”
“They have been released. Make sure you have a route across. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Out.”