UAE United Arab Emirates (in the Persian Gulf)
UAR United Arab Republic
UKADGE United Kingdom Air Defence Ground Environment
UKLF United Kingdom Land Forces
UNCLOS United Nations Conference on the Law of the Sea
UNFISMATRECO United Nations Fissile Materials Recovery Organization
UNITA National Union for the Total Independence of Angola
UNRRO United Nations Relief and Repatriation Organization
USAF United States Air Force
USAREUR United States Army in Europe
VLSI very large-scale integration
V/STOL vertical/short take-off and landing
WESTLANT Western Atlantic
WP Warsaw Pact
XO Executive Officer
Prologue
The publication of this book so soon after the cessation of hostilities between major participants in the Third World War will mean that much of what it contains will be incomplete and, even more, conjectural. In the chaotic conditions prevailing towards the end, in some key centres of power, vast quantities of records disappeared. Some have since come to light. Others probably never will.
It has nevertheless seemed important to the writers, all of whom played a part in the events of 1985 and their aftermath, whether in uniform or out of it, to put on the record as soon as possible some account, however imperfect, of what took place in a time of such transcendental importance to mankind.
We write as Britons, profoundly conscious of our debt to others. The outcome could have been vastly different — and very nearly was. The world has stood on the edge of an abyss. Under providence, through a gradual but significant shift of public attitudes and the work of growing numbers of men of foresight and good sense in the last few years before the outbreak — work often done in the face of vociferous and passionate opposition — it has been held back, but only just, from destruction. The margin, everybody now knows, was a narrow one.
Much will be said and written about these events in years to come, as further sources come to light and further thought is given to this momentous passage in the history of our world. The narrative now set out in only the broadest outline and, of our deliberate choice, in popular form, will be greatly amplified and here and there, no doubt, corrected. It seemed to us sensible, however, before these events move too far into the background of our lives, to seek answers to some important questions, in the hope that this might lessen the probability of another catastrophe from which, this time, we would not so readily escape.
The questions are simple. What happened, and why did it happen? What might have happened, and why did it not?
London, Easter, 1987
CHAPTER 1: August Dawn — The First Blows
“Black Horse One Zero, Black Horse One Zero, this is Shovel Six. Confirming Charlie One’s sighting as follows: large armored formation passed through inter-German border Zero Three Zero Five Zulu approximate brigade in size. Composed of Papa Tango 76s, Bravo Tango Romeo 62s, and Tango 72s. Inform Black Horse Six that Shovel is engaging. Out.”
Captain Jack Langtry, Troop Commander, Troop L, 3 Squadron in 11 Armored Cavalry Regiment was speaking into his microphone early on the morning of 4 August 1985 as he stood on hill 402 at Wildech, looking across the border zone over the hills rolling toward East German Eisenach. In the dawn light he saw scores of armored vehicles moving rapidly toward him on both sides of the autobahn. Langtry knew what this was: the advanced guard of an attacking Soviet formation. It could not be anything else.
The 11th Cavalry formed the main strength of the V US Corps covering force, whose job was to give the Corps maximum time in a delaying action. To the north was Kassel, out of the Corps area. To the south the Fulda Gap opened up, dangerously close to the border only 15 kilometers away.
Langtry’s fifteen Shillelagh-firing Sheridan light tanks were in hull defilade along the high ground overlooking the autobahn that ran from the border to Bad Hersfeld, directly behind him. His three platoons had practised engaging an enemy on this same route many times. Today it was for real. He gripped his microphone and heard his voice give the command, “Shovel, this is Six. Engage at will. Out.” Almost before his hand relaxed on the mike switch he heard the roar of Shillelagh missiles leaving fifteen tubes, guided on their way to targets silhouetted in the sad gray August morning.
The Black Horse Regiment were once again carrying the cudgel for their country as they had in the Philippines, Mexico, Europe and Vietnam.
Beside Langtry, Trooper Earl Waite suddenly exclaimed, “Man! Look at that!” Nine of the fifteen missiles had found their targets in sudden shattering fountains of red fireballs and flames.
The Sheridans were already moving to their alternate firing positions when hill 402 seemed to crumble with the impact of Soviet artillery fire. Waite was killed instantly and two other members of the TAC CP were wounded. Langtry, unhurt, quickly moved the command party to an observation post 500 meters further west near Spitzhiitte.
The Soviet armored formation, after pausing for a moment, was now oriented in his general direction and a unit could be seen breaking off in an attempt to outflank L Troop. Langtry knew that this would run into the seventeen XM-1s of the Squadron Tank Company. That was their misfortune. He saw one of 2 Platoon’s Sheridans fly apart when hit by a Soviet anti-tank missile and said aloud, “Why the hell did he have to silhouette himself on the skyline? Haven’t I been harping about tactical driving for eighteen months now?” He then heard the telltale wop, wop, wop of helicopters over the din of battle as the twenty-one TOW carrying ATGW Cobras of the Black Horse Regiment began a hide-and-seek battle with the T-72s swinging off the autobahn in the direction of Heiringen.
Somehow, Langtry felt completely detached from the surrounding battle. He gave his orders as though this was only another field training exercise. His little tactical Command Post functioned exactly as it had so many times before when practising for the battle they all hoped would never come.
“Shovel, this is Six. Execute Alpha 3.” This was the command to fall back to the next delaying position, the high ground overlooking Lauterbach.
The first platoon was soon on the move and already halfway to their next position as the second began to disengage. Langtry waved his arm and the three M-113s of the TAC CP started to move. As the first vehicle crossed the bridge over the Lauter, there was a tremendous flash. The bridge disappeared. Langtry felt himself thrown into the air, hitting the ground with a searing pain in his left shoulder. Two of his three command vehicles were on fire and the third rushing down the track on the other side of the stream in search of cover. Langtry sat up and muttered audibly, “Oh God. I hope the XO takes command in a hurry or the troop will be SOL.” He felt himself passing out. It was 0447Z, 4 August 1985.9 “
Taken from Black Horse and Red Star: American Cavalry at War by John S. Cleghorn, Col.US Army (retd), Houghton Mifflin, Boston 1986.
“It was not yet three a.m. on Sunday 4 August and still dark when the commander of C Squadron of 8 Royal Tank Regiment in 1 Br Corps covering force in the Central Region received over his radio the order to stand-to. The daily routine time for stand-to was just before first light. This was clearly something special.
The line of the low crest 1,000 metres away to the east was dimly visible against a sky beginning to grow paler. He stood in the turret of his tank glued to the radio, heedless of the ordered bustle about him as the fourteen other tanks of the Squadron, with their supporting vehicles, started up to move out into daylight dispersion.