Выбрать главу

The Stack of Needles theory was tucked away safely for the future and updated whenever new working versions of a NATO army’s battlefield code came into their possession. For operations in Northern Germany, Batex, Codex, Son of Codex and Slidex code books were all in their turn faithfully reproduced in sufficient quantities to equip saboteurs, assassins, fifth columnists and road watchers. Even the high magnesium content of the Slidex strips was duplicated, those burnable keys which were the closest an infantryman carrying a radio set on his back ever got to that famous line on TV “This tape will self-destruct in five seconds!”

“…Whiskey Echo, Golf Juliet, Charlie X-ray, Zulu Mike, Sierra Delta, Lima Victor Bravo, roger so far, over?” the voice with a slight Liverpool accent queried in the operators headphones.

“Tango Four Four roger, over.” replied the operator with a lilting Welsh accent of his own.

The hash of electronic noise marked a pronounced pause as per British Army signals doctrine for long messages, during which another station could transmit an urgent message of its own on that frequency.

None did of course.

“Tango Four Nine, Two November…Quebec India Foxtrot, Yankee Golf, Echo Tango, Victor November…”

The operator filtered out the sound of the rain pelting against the canvas roof of the short wheelbase FFR Landrover in which he sat, copying the transmitted bigrams and trigrams with a pencil that had been sharpened at both ends in case a tip should break, recording them onto a printed signals pad. At the conclusion of the transmission he opened a green plastic wallet; its sized designed to fit easily into a map pocket. There was nothing upon the wallet to identify its purpose beyond the stores code for that item printed in block capitals ‘Army Code 62175’.

The first bigram and trigram in the message were not code at all, but the page number and cursor setting with which to decode their orders contained within the British army’s own BATCO code book.

The most difficult part of the process for the operator was that of keeping the BATCO wallet from sliding away owing to the uneven angle at which the Landrovers body was leaning due to a broken axle. The decoded orders were written out in long hand below the original message.

Tramping across an intervening muddy firebreak in the forestry block that concealed them the operator handed the signals pad to his small team’s commander in a camouflaged basher.

“My sobirayemsya nuzhny novyye kolesa …..we are going to need new wheels.” observed the officer, Captain Sandovar, after he had finished reading.

TP 32, MSR ‘NUT’ (Up), north of Brunswick, Germany: 10 miles south-west of the Vormundberg.

The job of Pointsman remains one of the least glamorous, and yet most hazardous duties for a member of the military police in time of war. In times of peace, it is just plain boring of course, but the task is nonetheless one of extreme importance in ensuring the swift passage of supply trucks, troops, stores and equipment to the front, and empty trucks back to the docks for fresh loads.

TP 32 was provided by 352 Provost Company RMP(V) by way of the reconstituted No.2 Section of 1 Platoon, 99 % of the original 2 Section having fallen prey to Spetznaz troops in British uniforms early on in the war.

352 Provost Company’s Brighton and Southampton based platoons had loaned personnel to bring the section back to strength where it now manned Traffic Post 32’s two checkpoints with their dragons-tooth chicanes, one at either end of the junction where Autobahn 2 ran beneath the Brunswick Expressway.

The Autobahns 1

The junction was laid out like a simple cross just east of the Mitterland Kanal. The Expressway ran north/south with its flyover straddling the east/west carriageways of Autobahn 2.

On the north-eastern side of the junction sat the small provincial Braunschweig Airport with its single tarmac runway and a large flat grassy expanse beside it for light aircraft in the summer.

During World War 2 a research centre hidden in the forest next to the perimeter had developed the Henschel Hs 293 anti-shipping glide bomb, the ‘Daddy’ of air to surface stand-off missiles.

The airfield was currently in darkness, but for all that it was a hive of activity with US, German, British and Dutch military transport helicopter traffic coming and going, hot refuelling whilst the crews grabbed coffee next to their machines before having another underslung load of ammunition hooked on for delivery to the front lines.

Stores wise, this was the end of the line on ‘NUT’. The convoys deposited their cargos at the airport before heading to the rail yards at Hanover for another load.

For a time the NATO air force’s light and medium sized fixed wing transports had delivered palleted loads, but ironically it had been the great great grandsons of the Hs 293 that had comprehensively wrecked that single runway and destroyed two taxiing transports on the adjoining taxiway, a German C-160 Transall and a US Air Force C-23 Sherpa transport. Their twisted skeletons now lay abandoned where the bulldozers had shoved them.

The weather itself had soon afterwards turned to the bitter cold of a, thankfully short, nuclear winter and allowed the grass surface to be used by other Transall, Sherpa and C-130 Hercules. Once the thaw arrived of course it quickly became a quagmire, and with that the use by fixed wing aircraft had ended.

Beyond the airfields perimeter the Luftwaffe research centre was long gone, shattered by a series of US 8th Air Force raids in 1944 although the forest grew back over the decades and still remains today. There have been some incursions by farmers and housing developments since the 1970s, but the forest still extends east over the foothills to the banks of the Elbe.

South and east of the traffic post lay more forest, dark, wet and a little intimidating. An enemy could approach to within a few meters of the elevated autobahn from that direction. Trip-flares had been comprehensively sited amongst the trees and registered with fire by the heaviest weapons at the junction. Two GPMG s in the SF, Sustained Fire role, and manned by the infantry co-located with them to defend against the last of the Russian airborne troops still loose in small groups, those same ones who stubbornly refused to be mopped-up, contrary to continuous reports by the media. Thus far there had only been one triggering of a tripflare in the forest and that had introduced a bit of fresh meat into their diet, wild boar tenderised 7.62 style.

In addition to the gun groups there were two light anti-tank teams also, provided by 13 and 14 Platoons of D Company, 1 Wessex, and these covered the approaching traffic from the east and west, dug into the grassy verge beside the roadway whilst the two platoons had the additional tasks of covering the north/south running expressway.

The towpaths beside the canal had sappers from 25 Engineer Regiment RE dug in there in the infantry role to prevent any interference with their demolition charges, charges set in prefabricated bore holes that were set to drop a long section of the autobahn into the canal if called upon.

Post war construction and reconstruction in the former West Germany had been undertaken with defence in mind, for instance most of the bridges across the major rivers which had been destroyed by the advancing allies’ air forces or the retreating Wehrmacht were never rebuilt, and those that had been were designed to be demolition friendly.