Trusov put the handset down. He’d done it now. If he didn’t hold the bridgehead, or the bridges weren’t laid, he would end up with the elements of a division stranded on the east bank, and elements of a division on the western bank with nowhere to go. Easy pickings for the next airstrike.
Chapter 33
“Two-Two-Alpha, this is Bravo-Zero. Over.”
“Two-Two-Alpha, go ahead. Over.”
“They have broken through to your north. Elements pushing south to cut you off. Pull back now, I repeat, pull back now! Acknowledge! Over.”
“Roger that. All call signs, I repeat, all call signs?”
“Yes, all Two-Two call signs. Make it fast, Alex. They want to blow the bridge, and it’s only your forces preventing them. Make it a quick dash. Out.”
“Corporal Patterson, we’re getting out of here. Tell Mackinson that, when we move, it’s quick and there is no stopping. Nothing gets in our way. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All Two-Two call signs, this is Two-Two-Alpha. Withdraw immediately, I repeat, withdraw immediately. Acknowledge. Over.”
Each call sign responded in turn; the sound of battle could be heard in the background.
“Roger, all Two-Two call signs. Make it fast. No stopping. Two-Two-Alpha signing off. Out.”
“Target,” yelled Patsy. “Tango-Eight-Zero, 2,000 metres. Sabot.”
“Up,” confirmed Ellis once he had loaded the sabot round.
“On. Fire.”
The breech shot back.
“It’s a hit,” confirmed Alex as he tapped the switch for the smoke grenades. The remaining launcher rearmed. Smoke trails shot out from the Chieftain tank and, out to the front, it was immediately blocked off from view by a growing cloud of smoke.
“Back, back, back. Mackinson, get us out of here.”
“One-One-Alpha, this is Zero-Alpha. Over.”
“One-One-Alpha, go ahead. Over.”
“How are you holding up? Over.”
Russell watched as the 432 he had sent to pick up the Bundeswehr soldiers sped behind his position, the Kanonenjagdpanzer following close behind.
“About to move to our secondary positions. Over.”
“Roger that. You have to hold your location. I repeat, you have to hold your location. Acknowledge. Over.”
“What’s happening? Over.” A slight nervousness in his voice.
“The line is moving back. Friendlies will be passing through your location. Over.”
“Understood. Over.”
“You have to hold, Dean. If you don’t, friendlies will be trapped. Do you understand?”
“We’ll hold, sir.”
“Good lad. Zero-Alpha. Out.”
“You get the gist of that, Colour?”
“I did, sir. I’ll round up the boys then and we can get set up again. At least we’ve still got the box-heads with us. Sir?”
“Sorry, Colour. Yes, they will be needed. Let’s go.”
Chapter 34
Major Chadov pressed the wad of bandages against Colonel Trusov’s upper arm, the sleeve of his tank coverall wet with blood. Trusov constantly pushed him away as he sat in the back of the MTLB, his damaged T-80K parked alongside, his two crewmen surveying the damage. They were lucky to have got out alive, a strike by a Milan missile hitting the glacis low, below the protective array of ERA blocks, but low enough that the chamfer at the front end took the force of the explosion, reducing the missile’s effectiveness. Trusov, who had been standing up in the turret, directing soldiers around the PMP bridge, had been hit by a hot piece of metal that had cut a deep gouge in his upper arm. Kokorev and Barsukov, although badly shaken and partly deaf, had survived.
“The first of Colonel Kharzin’s tanks are crossing now, sir.” Informed Chadov.
Trusov looked back along the length of the accordion-like pontoons, now supporting Colonel Kharzin’s 48th Guards Tank Regiment as they crossed to prepare for the next assault on the battered British forces. Tank after tank clattered off the ramp at the end, a cloud of smoke as they accelerated up the gentle slope, powering forwards to do battle with the slowly withdrawing British force. Two pontoon bridges, 500 metres apart, had been quickly laid, the engineers building them at the rate of seven metres per minute; an ingenious system where the truck carrying the pontoons braked at the water’s edge, causing the large pontoons to slide into the water. The pontoons opened automatically and, once turned around ninety degrees by the powerboats in the water, were quickly connected, section by section, forming a continuous strip of floating roadway. While the remainder of Trusov’s regiment and the surviving tanks of the independent tank regiment continued an almost suicidal battle to push the enemy further and further back, the tanks of 12GTD were crossing the pontoon bridge at twenty-five kilometres an hour. The second bridge had been destroyed, but there were so many surface-to-air missile defence systems in place now, further attacks on this bridge had failed and proven costly to British, US and West German pilots. A second pontoon bridging company was already en route.
Chapter 35
Although well lit, the room in the concrete bunker felt cold and dark. Even when occupied, a musty smell seemed to hang in the air. A small group sat around a large metal table covered with a layer of hessian and topped with a map of the 1 BR Corps area of operations. The plastic-coated map had various tokens on it, representing the numerous British units now deployed to stem the Warsaw Pact forces pushing west. In attendance were Lieutenant-Colonel Stevens, SO1 G2 Intelligence, Major Colin Archer, the SO2 G2 Intelligence, Major Bill Castle, SO2 G3 Operations, Major-General Clifford Renshaw, Deputy Commander of 1 British Corps, and the Commander of 1 BR Corps himself, Lieutenant-General Sir Edmund Cutler. The General also had his aide, Captain Mallen, with him.
“They’ve gone and done it, sir, a full-scale chemical strike right across NORTHAG’s and CENTAG’s FLOT. Not only has it disrupted the forward line of our own troops, killing many, but thousands of German civilians have been caught up in the strikes. The German politicians are furious.”
“We knew it was coming, Clifford,” responded General Cutler, his well tanned face at odds with the cold, whitewashed walls. “The Soviets have always trained as if they intended to use chemical weapons in a conventional war, so we shouldn’t be surprised that they’ve done just that. It’s just part of their normal conventional arsenal.” He turned to Bill Castle. “Major Castle, what are the casualty rates looking like for the Corps?”
“Better than we had expected, sir.” He checked the figures in front of him. “We’ve had about 400 killed as a direct consequence of the chemical strikes. That’s including our rear areas and airfields. The airfields and weapons stores have been hit by a powerful, persistent nerve agent. It’s going to take some time to decontaminate those areas.”
“And the Corps area?”
“At least 120 killed so far, sir. And we estimate over 200 wounded. The field hospitals are coping, but with the Soviet’s latest big push still in progress, they now have an influx of standard battle injuries. On top of that, there are hundreds of German civilian casualties and they are swamping the local hospitals and looking to our Field hospitals for aid.”