General Turbin, ‘The Bear’, had been ruthless in his relentlessness to get the division in position as soon as possible so that, when his master called upon him and his men to do their duty, they would be ready. One battalion commander had already been sacked for failing to keep to his schedule, with a view to a court-martial at a later date. This spurred the others on, driving their men and vehicles hard. The general wanted his armour, infantry and logistics-tail off the roads before the battle started the following morning. The lead elements of his armoured division had to be in position, rested, armed and refueled. Ready. The soldier, a veteran of World War Two, recognised that it was tactically unsound consolidating his forces so close together. Should NATO resort to tactical nuclear weapons at the start of the war, his division would be decimated. It was an acceptable gamble. Dispersing his troops too far apart was not an option if he was to stick close to the retreating British Army and exploit any gaps made by the 10th, giving the 12th the opportunity to strike deep into the enemy’s rear.
Chapter 26
The engine of the FV4204, a Chieftain armoured recovery vehicle from the LAD section, hummed as the driver pushed it to full power, the dozer blade at the front gouging a three and a half metre furrow to a depth of roughly two metres — the perfect depth to allow a Chieftain to drive into the berm hull down, exposing as little of the tank as possible, in defilade. With the bulk of the hull behind the crest of ground raised as a consequence of the earth piled forward, the main volume of the tank would be behind hard cover, but its turret and main gun would be free to turn and pick out any advancing targets. A screen of trees behind the berm would provide a backdrop to blend in with. The dozer blades were far from perfect, the ARV having to take off a shallow layer at a time with the hydraulics occasionally failing. Lieutenant Wesley-Jones perched on the edge of the turret as he watched the ARV at work. It was actually an ARRV as it had an Atlas crane positioned along one side of the tank. He watched them scraping for a few minutes then picked up his binoculars to look further afield.
The small forest they were in was about five hundred metres by three hundred and was in a prominent position on the eastern edge of the Gronau. Barfelder Strasse ran east to west alongside, running through the centre of the village. As his tank was on the northern edge of the forest, he was able to look across the open fields as far as Betheln, about three kilometres away. Turning his gaze further east, he could see straight down the road, the one that linked this village to the next, almost as far as Barfelde, the outskirts less than two kilometres distant. There were four Scorpions from the regiment’s reconnaissance troop in the vicinity of Barfelde, doing the same as they were: watching and waiting for the enemy to come. When those Scorpions, should they survive, came tearing down the road, he would know that the enemy wasn’t far behind. The recce element might have delayed them for a few minutes, but not much more than that.
The ground to the left of the road was raised slightly, making a very shallow plateau. At the western edge of the plateau, he knew that two FV438s would be digging in, again ably assisted by a Chieftain with a dozer blade. Any enemy armour approaching from the east between Gronau and Betheln across open ground would make an ideal target for the two FV438s and their anti-tank missiles. Derived from a converted FV432, the vehicle mounted a twin launcher for the Swingfire missiles. Twelve more were stowed inside.
Wesley-Jones swung the binos left again, zooming in on the movement around the two vehicles. A light-wheeled tractor, with a rear hydraulic bucket, was digging a foxhole for the crew. The crew of three were no doubt setting up the control unit fifty to a hundred metres away from the 438. This would enable them to completely hide the vehicle. The missiles could be aimed and fired from this remote location, the swingfire missile capable of making a ninety-degree turn once launched. With a range of up to 4,000 metres, the wire-guided missile, providing visibility was good, would be able to pick off the enemy tanks, or BMPs, as soon as they came into view. Their time there would be limited though as, once the firing point was identified, they would attract heavy fire from the advancing enemy and probably artillery. Their task wasn’t to hold ground. They were there to take advantage of the open ground ahead of them to pick off the Soviet armour; to inflict casualties and force them to deploy, delaying their advance west. Then, they would scoot west, heading across the River Leine to set up again in pre-dug-out positions on the other side and start all over again, picking off the enemy as they got closer to the natural barrier that the river provided for the British units digging in on the western bank.
Wesley-Jones looked east again, picturing the advancing units that were likely to come towards them. Intelligence they had to date was telling them that they were up against the10th Guards Tank Division. He knew their tank regiments had the latest T-80s. He was confident his Chieftains could play their part, but wished he had the more modern Challenger that had recently been issued to 7th Armoured Brigade.
He shifted on the edge of the turret so he was able to face south-east, just as Patsy handed him a cup of coffee. He thanked him. It was welcome. Within an hour of the rest of the squadron arriving, followed by the regiment and attached units, his troop had been sent across the bridge to set up in defence of Gronau. Although managing to get a couple of hours’ sleep, he and his crew, along with the rest of the troop, were starting to feel the strain from a lack of sleep and living rough. Thank God for the BV, he thought. At least with the boiling vessel, they could have hot drinks and food. But this position wasn’t a permanent one either. Once they had ensured the enemy paid the price for advancing on Gronau, his troop would also withdraw across the river, the engineers eventually blowing the bridge, forcing the Soviet Army to find other means to cross to the other side. The bulk of Combat Team Bravo would remain on the western bank. Alpha and Charlie Troop, with their three Chieftains each and two sections of the Royal Green Jacket’s platoon that had been attached to the squadron, were digging in on the western bank. The third rifle section of eight men, the driver and a gunner staying with the battle taxi, with its peak engineering turret, positioned deeper into the village, were on the eastern edge of Gronau, on the edge of the village itself. The 432 would wait to be called forward and support with its L37A1 GPMG gun. Lieutenant Christian James, the platoon commander, had also allocated two 66mm LAW anti-tank rockets to the section, for close protection should they find themselves confronted by enemy armour right on top of them. Their primary role was to protect the two Milan firing posts that were covering the approaches to the village. They had been joined by a Sustained-Fire GPMG, along with the platoon HQ vehicle. Again, once they had blunted the enemy attack, if they were able to do so, they would scoot across the river to relative safety.