Roger fished the gas parts from out of the compo tin and grunted in pain as the rust remover attacked the tiny cuts on his fingertips that seem to appear as if by magic on infantrymen’s hands as soon as they get into the field. Roger’s discomfort was a minor thing, akin to getting lemon juice on a cut and the reassembly and reattachment of the gas regulator to the barrel went in silence.
The newly field cleaned barrel replaced the old one, and a brief hiss sounded from the shermouli container that one was doused too.
The white noise issuing from the radio headphones cut out abruptly.
“Hello Four Six Delta this is Nine Four Bravo, over?”
The trio paused in what they were doing.
“Four Six Bravo, send, over.” replied Dopey.
“Nine Four Bravo…shoot Delta Echo Three Six Echo, over!”
“Here we go again.” muttered Roger.
Of the fleet of converted Boeing 707–300 airframes currently in service with the USAF, the one presently carrying the callsign Bloodhound Zero Three was the oldest of the JSTARS.
Forty years before, it had taken to the air in the livery of Pan Am on the long-haul transatlantic routes, but it now wore pale grey as it traced its north/south race track route.
Retired from commercial service some time before the sad demise of Pan Am she entered military service via a make-over at the, then, Grumman Aerospace facility. Since the end of the first Gulf War, or ‘Desert Sword’ to some, this old lady had sat in the dry desert heat in Nevada, just another retired airframe left out for spy satellites to count until this, the Third World War, necessitated a hurried refurbishment and installation of a surveillance suite several generations superior to the one previously carried.
Tonight, high above a solid cover of rain heavy cloud Bloodhound Zero Three was watching events unfolded to the east.
The Russian 77th Guards Tank Division had completed its awkward reverse course and the opposition had worn out two other divisions in keeping up the pressure so NATO could not exploit the situation. It had not all been for nothing, not all a complete waste as a minor breakthrough had occurred between two defending units, always a weak spot. Romanian tanks and AFVs from the 91st Tank Regiment were through that small breach before hard fighting by 3 Para, plus A and B Companies of 1 Wessex, had choked it off, battering the follow-on infantry.
The Hungarians had smashed into the US and German sections on the Vormundberg, making some gains, only to lose them again in vicious hand to hand fighting as the Americans took back their fighting positions trench by trench, with grenades, bayonets and sheer guts. Once the last trench was retaken they poured fire into the former German positions, assisting their allies as they too fixed bayonets and counter attacked.
Only in the sector held by the composite battalion of 82nd paratroopers and Coldstream Guardsmen did the enemy have a foothold and the Czechs of the 23rd Motor Rifle Regiment used that position to pry at the neighbouring 44 Commando, Royal Marines.
Bloodhound Zero Three saw it all and reported each turn of events despite twice having to run from Red Air Force fighters.
The NATO Air Forces were joined by carrier air groups and their brief was to get 4 Corps to the front, so only helicopter assets were on station where the ground fighting was taking place.
It was SACEUR’s call, his decision. Did he allow the enemy to pound 4 Corps with their fighter bombers, or did he load up his own fighter bombers with air to air ordnance and use them as well as his remaining fighters in fully supporting the newly arrived US and Canadians in their drive to the front?
If 4 Corps failed to arrive then the war in Europe was lost, and it had to get there before the blockage he had caused in the enemy supply line had been cleared.
So as far as fixed wing air support went the front was on its own for the time being.
General Allain could see that one of the two main dangers on the ground was the armour that had broken through and disappeared into the forested foothills south of the Vormundberg, was it now heading for the junction of Autobahn’s 2 and 39 to the east of Brunswick?
He was not a man who held much reliance on computer aided digital maps and although there were a battery of plasma screens displaying all pertinent information, it was a paper map of Germany with a plastic overlay that he was studying and according to the grease pencil symbols, C Company, 2/198th Armored Regiment, a Mississippi National Guard unit, was defending it. Two tank platoons, an ITV, Improved Tow Vehicle, and a pair of M125 81mm mortar carriers were dug in covering the approaches. There was also an engineer section ready to drop the flyover if Vormundberg fell. Additionally there was a section of military policemen doing what MPs do, waving their arms at the traffic.
The reality of the matter, however, was that one of those tank platoons was made up of elderly M1 Abrams MBTs from a prepositioned equipment depot, as their own rides had only arrived at Zeebrugge with 4 Corps.
The M1 had much thinner armour than the M1A1 and was technologically its inferior on most other levels too, in addition being armed with a 105mm main gun, not the heavier 120mm.
The second tank platoon was in the infantry role and as such under-strength in comparison to that of an infantry platoon.
General Allain was about out of options and bereft an armoured reserve when he really needed one.
In regard to the other matter, the divisional commander at Vormundberg had already informed SACEUR that he had wanted to pull out 44 Commando from their current location once they had thoroughly mined and booby trapped each position. They would then carry out a reorganisation on the hurry-up before going into the dead ground behind the forward companies of 2 Wessex, in readiness for a counterattack. General Allain had been doubtful as to the wisdom of the proposed action, the guardsmen and paratroopers had been in the line since the beginning, and they were about used up. The marines of 44 Commando were fresher, so why not carry out a relief-in-place? They had some artillery to spare that could provide a limited covering barrage whilst the maneouvre was carried out?
“Grudge match…and I want that artillery for the Czechs when they are out in the open, not to keep their heads down.” was the divisional commander’s reply.
Both the guardsmen and the marine commandos had a score to settle with the Czechs of the 23rd MRR.
“Those Geordies and Yorkshiremen want payback for what those Czechs did to the prisoners and wounded at Wesernitz, and Forty Four were watching when those guys did the same to 42 Commando.”
Major General Dave Hesher had been Brigadier General Hesher and commanding the US 4th Armored Brigade twenty four hours before, now he was commanding a division thrown together with such haste no one had found time to even give it a name or number.
Despite his recent command of an armoured unit Dave Hesher had spent most of his service in the Rangers and Green Berets; he knew the value of unit pride when the odds were stacked against you. Attachments over the years to British units such as the Gloucester Regiment and Royal Welsh Fusiliers had brought home the value of joining your regional regiment for life rather than being posted to different ones every few years. Only the Airborne had anything like a similar setup in the US Army.
The Canadian had been silent for a long moment as he considered the words.
“The Czechs outnumber them, Dave.”
“Sir, the 23rd were a full strength motor rifle regiment at the Wesernitz…”