The Red White & Blue

by Harry Kellogg III

  The Turkish Colonel could tell that the tanks being thrown at him were the older but faster T34-85. He knew that these tanks were more than a match for the few old tanks he had gotten recently from the Americans. The Soviet tanks were just as fast as and maybe even faster than his more lightly armored Shermans with the 76 mm gun. His problems were many. He had very few tanks, his tankers had not seen combat, and they had no air cover. They held their own, however, in the first brush with the T-34s. His unit gave as good as they got.

  The T-34s withdrew a few kilometers and then came the flying tanks of the Red Air Force. The Il-10 Sturmovik Beast had a large number of ways to kill a tank and they used their repertoire very quickly on his dozen tanks. The one Bofers unit, he had been given, actually did a good job and took down two Beasts before being destroyed by 23 mm cannon fire.

  The Turkish Colonel’s own tanks died to more exotic weapons such as floating bomblets and liquid flame. One by one the tanks died and back came the Soviet T-34s.

  This time, the Turks special anti-tank groups did their job using Molotov cocktails and, once again stopped the Red’s advance. A quick Soviet artillery and rocket barrage put a stop to these Turkish tactics as well as killing much of the supporting infantry. Again, the few men the Turkish colonel had alive performed extremely well. If they would have had some support, they might have even staged an effective counter attack. But, they had had no further support. His commanding General had decided that discretion is the better part of valor and had run to fight another day.

  The General actually did perform quite well weeks later near the village of Bitlis where his division put up stiff resistance. The Turkish unit held up the Soviet advance for almost three days before the General was killed and his troops overwhelmed. On this first day of battle however, the General was on the run and this meant a quick death for the colonel and his battalion.

  Match Made in Mayhem

  Our truckload of American Advisors sent to the border almost made it to the front before the attack began. Their truck was quickly commandeered at gun point and the aforementioned General used it for his escape. As the Captain and his men were standing there stranded and trying to figure out what to do they heard their first, of many, T-34s coming from around the buildings. Sergeant Clem took an ordinary grenade from a dead body and sprinted towards the sound. What the hell, thought the Captain, might as well get it over with. And, for some reason, the rest of the squad followed him as he ran after Sergeant Clem.

  Sergeant Clem was crouched behind some rubble when the Soviet tank came within sight. It was unsupported and out in front of the infantry, who were huffing and puffing their way towards them. Without saying a word, Clem dove in front of the tank letting the treads pass on either side of him. The Captain lost sight of him but when the tank passed over what should have been his body, the sergeant got up and sprinted back to their hiding spot minus the grenade. The captain kept waiting for the grenade to at least go off. He never expected it to even scratch the tank but it didn’t blow.

  He looked at Clem who just indicated that they should wait, and then about 10 seconds after he rolled out from under the tank it suddenly started on fire from underneath. It wasn’t quite a spoon but somehow Clem had killed that tank with a standard frag grenade. The captain looked at Clem who just grinned and winked. Well I’ll be damned, he thought.

  The few surrounding Turkish soldiers, who saw all that had happened, seemed to be very impressed by what they saw. They motioned the group of Americans to follow them as they made their way to the next strong point. The Turks chattered all the way, pointing at Clem to whoever they met. He had no idea what they were saying, but they all started to look at Clem with new found respect.

  The group made a sprint to the rear and ended up in a trench line that was well hidden. A Soviet column of vehicles, led by one of the oddest armored cars the captain had ever seen, was going to drive right by their position. They were unaware of the group’s location and the column was just moving forward like it didn’t have a care in the world. The Captain decided to give it a few cares.

  He yelled for Corporal Mike and grabbed a bazooka that one of the Turks was carelessly holding with no intention of using. He looked into the terrified eyes of the Corporal and winked. Then, he threw him the bazooka and grabbed a round, stepped behind him, loaded the round, and tapped the Corporal’s helmet.

  Without thinking further, Corporal Mike found a gap in the rubble, took aim and launched. It was the longest and best shot anyone had ever seen on the lead armored car. It was easily at the extreme edge of the bazooka’s capabilities. The rocket fired grenade had just enough energy to go through the lightly armored vehicle which erupted with a very satisfying explosion. The warhead continued to travel on its own momentum with a mane of flames streaming backwards. The armored car must have been going 80 kph.

  Now I don’t know if you’ve ever been in combat in an armored vehicle but if you have you will know that it is very hard to get situational awareness. You are partially blind to what is going on and are even devoid of the sense of hearing when you are buttoned up. This flaming torch continued to roll for a good 100 yards on a slight incline without even slowing down. It finally ended its death roll with a loud bang that snuffed out the flames.

  The rest of the column seemed not to notice the calamity that had befallen their lead vehicle for a good five seconds. Then, panic ensued as three of the lead vehicles veered to the south and the remainder turned north with two of them colliding knocking the smallest vehicle on its side which started it sliding. The slide was interrupted by a large bolder that started the small armored car rolling. After two rotations, it stopped back on its side and exploded.

  Two of the armored cars stopped and started to look for the perpetrator of this attack. By this time, the contrail of the bazooka round had dissipated. The smoke from the flaming torch and exploded slider hid our group and the armored cars had no idea of where the attack had come from. The Captain looked at Corporal Mike and smiled. They ran back to their next defensive strong point. All were smiling like maniacs and the Turks with them were as well.

  Unfortunately the salient fact was, that in the end, they were still running backwards as the Soviets continued their rapid advance virtually unchecked. The remainder of the Soviet troops didn’t even blink as they passed by their still smoldering, former comrades. The rout was on and it did no good to think about the fallen. There would be many more smoldering wrecks to pass, all by created by the bodies of their comrades and enemies.

  For our group of misfits, they had seen how each would react under pressure and were pleased with what they had seen. At their next resting stop point, the captain made a point to ask and memorize everyone’s last names, including the 7 Turks who had adopted the little group of Americans.

  All That Gaz

  They were using an appropriated Soviet GAZ 51 according to Sergeant William Summers (yes, he had decided to learn their names) and Summers was fascinated with the vehicle. It looked like the Lend Lease Studebaker US6 that was so prevalent in the Soviet arsenal. Yet it was obviously Soviet made and not that badly done according to the Sergeant.

  The GAZ wasn’t quite as good as a Detroit made truck but it beat sure beat walking. Truth be told, it was not such a bad copy. The unit they had obtained the truck from had not survived the encounter. No one in the group of Americans and Turks could read Russian, so the documents they obtained from the truck were of little use. The truck had belonged to a Soviet headquarters unit. It was filled with what was probably useful information if they could eventually get it the documents into the proper hands. They just had no way of knowing how valuable this stuff was. The Captain decided to find a Turkish HQ unit to get rid of the papers.

  They had decided to obtain the truck when they noticed that there was no air activity. Both the Turk and Soviet planes had not been seen for a good day. They figured that the Turks were relocating backward and the Soviets were advancing their airbases, which m
eant that, for now, it was safe to be driving and riding in a truck.

  It was amazing, but no one on the Turkish side seemed to give their ride a second look. They shared the road with all sorts of other Russian equipment that was now being used by the Turks. You just ‘X’ed out the red star, and you were golden it appeared. Although they had outrun their air support, the Reds were still advancing at an alarming pace. The Captain had read a report on their advance into Manchuria against the Japanese in 1945 and one division size unit had advanced 500 miles in 11 days.

  It was day 8 since the Soviets attacked and the group was about 10 km ahead of the lead elements of the attackers. They, personally, had walked, rode, or driven 320 km during that time. If his math was right, the Reds had advanced 40 km a day. Pretty impressive and bellied the idea that the Red Army was still using horses for transporting supplies.

  The Soviets had huge herds of horses in their TOE, It turns out the horses were not for transporting supplies but were a vital piece of the Reds mobile warfare strategy and tactics called Deep Battle. These units were on the books and used similarly to what the US and GB would call a Mechanized unit. In the US Army, these units would be infantry riding to the frontline in trucks, who would then dismount and enter battle on foot.

  The Soviets went one further. The horses actually rode into battle carrying their human soldiers to exploit any breakthroughs created by the units accompanying tanks. The concept was quite well thought out, he concluded. The leader of their (yes, they considered them their) Turks was a young fellow who had actually fought with the Soviets along with his younger brother and had witnessed these Mechanized Calvary Corps in action. Both brothers were assigned to some famous Turkish General’s staff and had been on an official state visit to the Soviet frontlines.

  First, the artillery would soften up the enemy with guns and rockets. Then, imbedded assault tanks would advance and take out most of the strong points and machine gun emplacements. It seems that horses and machine guns are not a good combination. Next, the infantry would expand the gap and secure the flanks. Lastly, the cavalry would charge through the gap carrying their human riders, along with supplies of ammunition, heavy machine guns, and light anti-tank weapons.

  These cavalry units would exploit the breakthrough and advance as far into the enemy’s rear as they could, dismount, and take up a defensive posture until the other units caught up. This strategy led to multiple enemy units being cut off and having to fight their way through these heavily armed, now on foot, classic infantry units in order to receive supplies or to retreat.

  When he considered it from a purely military viewpoint, it was really quite brilliant. What better means of transportation could swiftly maneuver through a typical battle field better than a horse and rider? Once, the Reds were through the pocked marked moonscape that was the usual after a massive artillery barrage and tank assault, they were incredibly mobile and agile in exploiting the breakthrough. When and if they finally met with opposition, they dismounted and dug in like any classic infantry unit and waited for support. [3]

  All the studies he had seen, describing the backward state of the Red Army, had been based on the fact that they used so many horses. The deduction was bullshit. Those horses were a critical and very effective breakthrough tool, and not a sign of old school thinking or even a sigh of industrial weakness. They chose to use the horses not because they lacked trucks but because they just plain worked better at their version of the Blitzkrieg. And, according to the stories he heard and a battle they had witnessed up close and personal, it did work and work very well.

  His personal encounter with a Mechanized Calvary Corps had occurred on day five of the attack. His group was placed in the rear guarding a headquarters unit. Just the kind of target the Soviet Mechanized Calvary Corps was designed to find and destroy. First, they heard the artillery barrage and Stalin’s organs laying down a massive creeping carpet of death. Then came reports of tanks attacking machine gun nests and other strong points. Soon, there were reports of the Red infantry riding tanks, mopping up, and exploiting the inevitable gaps in the line. Next, were hysterical reports of cavalry charges!

  His small company of Americans started to laugh when they heard that. That cavalry charges were last done by the Poles against the Germans was common point of jest. Then Said got their attention. An interpreter explained, with quite explicit hand gestures, that this threat was to be taken seriously...very seriously.

  And, sure enough within a half hour they were almost overrun by fucking Cossacks on horses. Truly amazing. They weren’t welding swords but had very modern rifles and assault weapons slung on their backs. Also, horses were carrying lots of ammunition, and even moving heavy machine guns and anti-tank weapons at an alarming speed. The exploitation phase wasn’t truly a charge. Once, the cavalry started to take fire, they dismounted and setup shop very efficiently while their follow up units started to flank us. The highly disciplined attack was quite frankly scary as hell, and in his opinion a brilliant tactic.

  Now, his group was they in deep shit. They were in real danger of being surrounded by a much heavier armed and more mobile force. Their situation was very concerning to say the least. Luckily for them, the Soviet commander made an error and ran one of his units into a hidden machine gun nest that made a quick mess of both man and animal. It was a very unforgettable and unwanted scene, even for someone who hated horses.

  This error created the escape route his group needed and also forced the cavalry to dismount and dig in. The cavalry just were not equipped, nor was it their mission to attack dug in emplacements. He concluded that this series of strong points and machine gun bunkers was, indeed, the only way to counter these “marauding vestiges of the past” (he liked using big and unusual words in his reports). He had no desire to be captured by the Soviets, and least of all a bunch of guys riding horses. So, they took the opportunity provided and hit the road. Their Soviet truck ran quite well and they were able to speed past the enemy before they had setup their defenses.

  It turns out that Sargent Bill was quite a driver. The Captain remembered hearing about a former getaway driver for the Mob who was given the classic choice of jail time or the Army. This guy had made himself quite a reputation for stealing army vehicles and taking them for joy rides while drunk. It seems that even when drunk, he could outdrive anyone who tried to catch him. Finally, the officers just let him take the truck and bring it back when he was done. He was so valuable when he was sober that they looked the other way until the day he took the halftrack down the Champs-Elysées in Paris. The Captain thought that this might be the guy and his past finally caught up with him. Now, he was a getaway driver for a bunch of misfits outrunning the Soviet army in Turkey. He guessed stranger things have happened, but he would be hard pressed to think of any.

  The Red Cross

  Dr. Marcel Junod, a renowned Red Cross humanitarian, had just arrived in Ankara, Turkey on 26 May 1946, the very start of World War Three and had been there ever since. He had come straight from Hiroshima, Japan where the American and International Red Cross were attempting to bring relief to the citizens of that devastated area.

  He was one of the first physicians to reach the region. He had received some photos that he sent back to the ICRC. They were the first pictures to reach the west of what we had done in Japan. Once the true understanding of what had occurred there reached the American public, donations had poured in to the International Red Cross and through the American Red Cross as well. [4]

  Junod had been involved in distributing the thousands of tons of food and supplies to the survivors of the atomic bomb attacks on Japan until May. He had come a long way from his roots in a small Swiss town to the world traveler he was today. He had seen a lot, and was beginning to think he had seen too much. Too many burned bodies and stinking piles of flesh at concentrations camps. Too many radiation burns on small children. Too many sightless eyes. He was going home to Geneva to see his son, who was born almost a year ago, for
the first time.

  His last duty was to inspect the operation in Ankara. He had been caught up in the waves of war, like many an international traveler, in May, 1946 ever since. Civilian travelers took a back seat to military transport needs in the initial stages of war and it extended to long after for “do-gooders” stranded in Turkey.

  He had no way of entering Switzerland anyway for the Soviets did not recognize the International Red Cross. He was doomed to spend even more time away from his young family. Now, much to his concern, he was being surrounded by armies of Soviet troops. The troops were moving in on Ankara from the west, as another force swept in from the North, and then East. They would eventually meet and cut off his route home.

  In the meantime, he went about his duties as he saw them. He distributed relief supplies, organized hospitals, and tended to the sick and wounded himself. As usual, he had confronted the local authorities who wanted to summarily execute the Soviet wounded they found in some of his hospitals. And as usual, they eventually backed down when persuaded by the good doctor and the pedigree of his supporters. His list was formidable and included many well-respected Turkish businessmen and Turkish leaders.

  It never ceased to amaze the doctor how there were so many bent on revenge and how easy it was to make them back down even in the remotest part of the world. Maybe this was a sign that man was not really so terrible and that a good communicator could convince most ordinary humans to do the right thing. He believed that God was on his side. Maybe he was right about his belief, and this was why it was so easy for him to do what he did. Someday he might not be able to accomplish this outcome. He might just end up dead or severely wounded, defending all who needed medical attention in his facilities. So far luck was on his side and he was still in one piece.