There was a quick pause while the Lieutenant composed himself. He’d seen the scene inside the RCAMC post himself and wouldn’t forget it in a hurry. “As for the rest, we’re just mopping up now. We’ve cleared out the snipers. The EYs did a grand job as usual. We’ve restored the Southern perimeter as well and driven the Finns out. We guess they’re retreating. Should we pursue them?”
Rockingham thought for a second. “No. Secure the perimeter, then we’ll get set up and get the headquarters back into operation. Lord knows what’s happening out there while we’ve been pinned down. Any prisoners?”
There was a bitter laugh from the Lieutenant. He hadn’t exaggerated. After the RCAMC post, there hadn’t been any interest in taking prisoners. A couple of the Finns had tried to surrender but they’d been shot or bayoneted, or both. “No, Sir. The Finns are fighting to the last man and the last bullet. No prisoners.”
“And nobody prepared to take any I’d guess. Very well. Lieutenant. Pass word around that if we can get some, it would help us find out what the hell is going on here.”
“I’ll pass the word, Sir.” ‘And a fat lot of good it will do’ was the Lieutenant’s unspoken addition.
Rockingham slipped out the Division Office and made his way to the communications office. The Royal Canadian Corps of Signals had their radio sites set up but it was a gamble whether they had any operational capability back yet. He made his way from building to building, keeping well under cover all the time. There were wise words he’d heard from a fellow officer once. ‘All situations are tactical until you have proved otherwise for yourself. Never take somebody else’s word for it, if you do you could earn the unfortunate distinction of being the last casualty of the battle.’
The firing had stopped and the battle here at the headquarters unit did seem to be over. He reached the RCCS bunker and announced himself. Entering a defended building unannounced was another good way of becoming the last casualty of the battle.
“Have we contact with our forces yet?”
“No, Sir. Re-establishing now. We are receiving but we’re not able to transmit yet. We’re re-rigging the aerials; we should have that solved soon. We’re picking up a lot of transmission from our units, Sir. It seems like the Finns infiltrated between them during the storm and set up road blocks and so on. All our front line units are cut off. They’re in a series of hedgehogs, spiny side out, where our front line used to be. They’re holding firm but calling out for air and artillery support. It’s a mess, Sir. The whole divisional front is a gaping hole, if those hedgehogs collapse, there’ll be nothing to stop the Finns going through and rolling up the whole of Second Corps. Or heading north and hitting First Corps in the rear.”
“Well, they’d damned well better not collapse then, hadn’t they?” Rockingham looked at the map, envisaging what his front like had to look like. “And there’s no damned reason why they should. This infiltration and hedgehog trick is all very well. The Finns made good use of it during the Winter War and the early stage of the Continuation War, but those days are gone. We’ve got more tactical air than we know what to do with and our units are a lot more self-contained. When we get through to the units that have been cut off, tell them they are to hold their ground and not try to break out. We’ll come to get them. Tell them that if they run short of supplies, we’ll drop them by air. Get that out as soon as we have transmission.”
“Sir, we heard about the RCAMC post. Is it true?’
“So I’m told, I haven’t seen it for myself.” The Signals sergeant swore under his breath, quietly vowing to get word of what had happened out to the front line units. They would take a due and dispassionate revenge for the crime.
Rockingham left the bunker as carefully as he’d entered it. Next thing was to get to the aid post that the survivors of the medical unit had set up and exchange a few rude jokes with the wounded. All part of keeping unit morale up. While he was doing it, he could find out how long General Rodgers was going to be out of action for. Then back to the radio bunker to start coordinating with the units that were cut off. Telling them to hang on, stand fast and wait to be relieved in place was one thing. He had to make sure they could see they were getting the support they needed to do it.
“Major Gillespie? A word please.” Lieutenant Colonel Haversham had got the orders a minute or so earlier.
“Sir?”
“Divisional headquarters are back on the net. Their general orders to all units are to hold in place; we’re not to try and break out. Instead, we will fight our ground where we are. The rest of the division will come and fight their way through to relieve us.”
“Makes sense Sir. I’ve been reading up on what happened to Russian units that got cut off like this. It wasn’t being cut off that chewed them up, it was their own efforts to break out. They weakened themselves so much that when the Finns finally moved to liquidate the pockets, there wasn’t much the Russians could do to stop them. So we’re to stay put?”
“That’s right. Rocky’s arranging for air and artillery support and says we’ll get supply drops if we need them.”
“Rockingham’s arranging it? I thought he was 6th Division when it finally arrives?”
“He is. I guess General Rodgers is out of it and Rocky has taken over in his place. There’s bad rumors coming out of Division. Apparently the headquarters units got chewed up. Including the RCAMC detachment.”
“Damn.”
“Anyway go spread the word, everybody to dig in deep. Make sure the front line is continuous. The Finns are masters at slipping through any holes that we leave and we don’t want them in our back areas. Above all, nobody and I mean nobody leaves the perimeter until we get relieved. And if we’ve got artillery and air coming in, we’ll be calling it in almost on our own heads. The deeper we dig in the better. Last thing we want is casualties from our own supporting fire.”
“Especially if the Yanks are delivering it. You know what their pilots are like. Over-enthusiastic.”
That, Haversham thought, was putting it politely. The Canadian troops had a saying about the Yank fighter-bomber pilots, they were unerringly accurate. Every bomb they dropped hit the ground. Somewhere. Then, he had a strange sensation, as if his own thoughts had been turned into reality. A whistling noise.
“INBOUND!” The shouting was all over the perimeter, Haversham glanced around to see figures diving for cover. That was probably a good idea and he copied it. The explosions followed a split second after he made it to the ground. They were mortars, 82s? Perhaps 50s? They were light cracks, not the heavy thuds of the medium mortars. The ripple of explosions lasted for barely minute and then the scene was silent again.
“Fire back, Sir?” Gillespie picked himself out of the snow. All over the hedgehog, the troops were doing the same. Miraculously despite the number of explosions, nobody seemed to have been hurt. The tiny charge on the German 50mm mortar had combined with the thick snow to produce a lot of barks and no bites. Haversham knew they wouldn’t be that lucky again.
“No. Waste of ammunition. Those were 50mm mortars, the crews will have moved long before we can put fire down on them. That’s what they’re trying to goad us into doing. Plus get a measure of what we’ve got in here. See if we can get support from the outside. We need to hoard what we have in here with us. Goes for food as well as ammunition. Gillespie, get an inventory made of what supplies we have here and what we need urgently.” Haversham sprinted over to the radio section. It was time to fight a war the Yank way. Hole up, form a defensive perimeter around their radio operator and let him fight them with the divisional artillery. It wasn’t soldiering the way his father or grandfather would have understood, making sure a kid could eat his can of beans undisturbed while he blasted the enemy with somebody else’s artillery but it was the low-cost way of fighting a war. Low cost in terms of Canadian lives anyway. That was what was important.