by Harvey Black
Behind him, the squad leader was sitting higher up. He called down, “Where do you want us, sir?”
“If you follow us in, we’ll take you to your positions.”
“Have they dug some berms for us?”
Lieutenant Garcia turned to Park and the platoon sergeant answered, “Yes. You have two facing the northeast and two to the southeast. I suggest you place one ITV each side. That’ll give you two berms for each track.”
“Your men, sir?”
“You’ll have two squads on your left,” answered Garcia. “Along with the weapons squad, that’s where they’ll probably try and flank us. There’s a squad on your right, so watch where you go.” The lieutenant laughed. “I don’t want you running over my boys.”
“I’ll lead then, LT,” suggested Park. “You can hitch a ride.”
“You’re on, Sergeant.”
Garcia clambered up onto the M109 ITV, an Improved TOW Vehicle, crouching down next to the squad leader, Sergeant Dowling. To his left was the lowered ‘hammerhead’ turret, the TOW weapon launcher. He nearly fell off as the driver applied power to the tracks and the vehicle jerked forward.
“They coming tomorrow, Lieutenant?”
“They’ll be here alright, so get yourselves organised quickly.”
“Who’s holding them off?”
“Twelve-Cav and two companies from 2nd Battalion. But they’ll be here before the night’s out. We’ll probably see their recce first thing.”
Sergeant Park turned round and jabbed his left arm in the direction of the southeast.
“Tell your second unit to follow my platoon sergeant, and I’ll lead you to your location. I’ll set up my platoon HQ close by.”
“We’ll need to ride in behind our positions, sir. Confirm our landmarks; then pull back out of sight.”
“Yeah, fine.” Garcia tapped the hammerhead. “These babies do a good job then?”
“You bet, sir. Eighty per cent probability of a hit.”
“Keep your boys tight, Sergeant. Popov will looking to hit you during the twenty per cent.”
“Gotcha, LT.”
The vehicle spun on its tracks and headed northeast, the lieutenant guiding the driver.
“How far are we from your squads, sir?”
Garcia thought for a moment. “I’ve not looked at the positions yet, but we instructed your berms to be dug at least fifty metres from our positions.”
“When these things fire, we’ll draw their attention, that’s for sure. Once the Red Army’s tanks are less than 1,000 metres, we have orders to pull back.”
“They’ll be close enough for our Dragons then,” answered Garcia. “Here we are.”
The ITV stopped with a jolt, close to the edge of the forest, a berm carved out in front of them and the lieutenant slid down the front and off.
“I’ll need to go further forward, sir. Check out the scenery.”
“I’ll leave you to it.” Garcia patted the slab side of the ITV as it picked up speed, one of the crew now leading it through the trees.
The M109 ITV picked its way forward slowly and drove closer to the edge of the forest, only far enough so it was in a position for the squad leader to check out the lay of the land. The ground behind him was about 500 metres at its highest point, and his vehicle, along with the supporting infantry, was at roughly 200 to 300 metres. It gave him a great view of not only the valley where the Autobahn ran across the open fields towards his position, but he could also see across the open ground, apart from a few small buildings, to his left. The second ITV, 100 metres off to his right, would cover any blind spots. To his right was the berm dug out by the engineers from where he could support the mechanised infantry company dug in close by. And they, in turn, would reciprocate. His M109 ITV, replacing the older M113A1 TOW, would finally get an opportunity to show the enemy what it was capable of.
Dowling laughed to himself. The Russians were about to come up against the 3rd Armoured Division, so God help them. “Back up. I want to see the view from the berm.”
2030, 8 JULY 1984. 4TH BATTALION, 67TH ARMOURED REGIMENT, 3RD BRIGADE, 3RD ARMOURED DIVISION, US V CORPS. STOP-LINE DALLAS, SOUTHEAST OF SCHLUCHTERN, WEST GERMANY.
THE BLUE EFFECT -3 DAYS
Two-Company, and its seventeen M1 Abram’s, occupied the forward slope of a set of hills that looked out onto a valley, just south of the village of Gomfritz, facing the Autobahn coming from the northeast. A company from the 1st Mechanised Infantry Battalion had been given the northern side of the valley to defend, and a company of tanks from 4th Armoured Battalion the southern. The Major checked the positions of his armour, conferring with his platoon leaders, agreeing which platoons would pull out first and which would provide over-watch.
The road was now quiet. A long column of evacuees had passed by earlier in the day. Major Anderson dropped down beside his personal Abram’s and rested his back against one of the bogie wheels where Lieutenant Hendricks, one of his platoon leaders, joined him. Anderson had a map on his knee and was examining the layout of the area the Spearhead Division had to defend.
“They’re going to roll right into us tomorrow, sir.”
“That they are, Ed, so keep your boys on the ball.”
A rumble of explosions, no more than three kilometres away, shattered the relative silence.
“Son of a bitch. The Cav and the 2nd are getting some Soviet attention.”
Major Anderson turned to his junior officer. “Yeah, but I hear the Russians are getting a bit of a stonking too.”
“Those Cobras scare me, and they’re on our side. Is Dallas ready, sir?”
Anderson slid the map across and briefed his subordinate on what he believed was the current status of Stop-Line Dallas.
As part of the preparation, for a potential invasion by the Warsaw Pact, which had been conducted over the last five years, the commander of US V Corps had instigated a number of stop-lines where his defence of the Fulda Gap and, in turn, the city of Frankfurt, would be conducted. Two of those had already been crossed. 11th Cavalry, using a rolling defence, provided the initial resistance to the Soviet invasion. Now, the responsibility had fallen to the 3rd Armoured Division to hold the final two stop-lines. The immediate one, Stop-Line Dallas, named after an American city, ran from Grafendorf northwest to Schluchtern, where the 3rd Brigade were centred, north to Freinsteinau, then west through Shotton, and north-east to Alsfeld. 1st Brigade had Alsfeld, and 2nd Brigade was on 3rd Brigade’s left flank around Freinsteinau and Shotton, the towering Vogelsberg Mountains in the middle. If they were unsuccessful in holding, the Division would pull back to Stop-Line Phoenix, a line that ran from Lohr to Friedberg, passing through Geinhausen and Glauburg. Behind the 3rd Armoured Division sat the 8th Mechanised Infantry Division, deploying behind Phoenix ready to hold ground until more reinforcements arrived.
Beyond that line, the US military was still assessing what their next action would be. All that depended on speed: speed of the Soviet advance, speed at which reinforcements could be brought into the country, and the speed at which the US air force, and other NATO air forces for that matter, could hold their ground, gain air superiority, and hit back hard at the marauding Soviet armies.
US V Corps’ primary role was the defence of the Fulda Gap and, ultimately, Frankfurt. On its right flank, US VII Corps was also battling with an advancing Soviet force, where 4th Armoured Division was digging in. Further right again, 2nd German Corps was holding. On their left flank, 3rd German Corps was fighting a bitter battle to hold ground. 1st Belgian Corps, having finally taken up their position to the German’s left flank, took considerable pressure off the German Corps that had effectively been fighting a two Corps front. Although under the command of the Central Army Group (CENTAG), and following the orders of their American Army Group commander, the German Bundeswehr was impatient to hit back. Having been forced to constantly retreat towards the west, watching their soldiers and civilians suffer from horrendous injuries and the devastating effect
s of chemical agents launched by the Soviet army, they were ready to release a brigade to support a counter-attack, catch the Soviets off guard, blunt their advance, and take the battle to the enemy. Their argument was that it would force the Soviets to halt and take stock, taking some pressure off the mauled Bundeswehr brigades, giving them time to consolidate and rearm. But, for now, their American commander was holding firm and reining them in.
“Looking good, sir.”
“It does Ed. But for us, it all starts tomorrow. Let’s mosey and check out the crews.”
They both left the berm where one of the HQ’s M1s was hull down, and moved off to check on the lieutenant’s platoon of five tanks.
Of the three platoons in Two-Company, Lieutenant Kendrick’s platoon held the centre, covering the gap between Gomfritz, off to their front left, and the wooded area to their front right, the high ground of Drasenberg behind them. The crews were edgy, knowing they were about to meet the enemy for the first time. They had seen the remnants of the Cavalry Regiment, bruised and battered, pulling back. Some of the men who were suffering from the effects of nerve agent poisoning had been pulled well back, way behind the front line, closer to the city of Frankfurt. Casualties had been high: losses of up to sixty per cent for some of the squadrons. And those that had survived were in no fit state to fight. Also the survivors of the chemical attacks were still suffering from the consequences of the absorption of the lethal toxins, the after-effects persistent. Those that had survived, through being appropriately protected and with a small amount of luck, were exhausted and traumatised. Their recent battle was over, but there was no way they would entirely be released from duty by their generals. They had an opportunity to eat and sleep, rearm and repair their vehicles, then rest some more. There was no doubt that if Frankfurt was threatened, they would be quickly designated as a reserve and brought back into the fight, used as fire brigade troops or a stopgap to cover any Soviet breakthroughs. Should the battle go well for the US forces, they could also be pulled in and used as part of any counter-attacking force.
The terrain to the platoon’s front was good, but not perfect. The few buildings of Gomfritz to the northeast were in their line of sight, so Lieutenant Hendricks’ platoon were unable to see the Autobahn as it passed the other side of the village. But Two-Platoon, further to the left, had a clear line of sight and would be able to target any enemy tanks fool enough to charge down the road, or either side of it. However, Hendricks’ platoon did have a view out to their front that was well over four kilometres. They could see as far as the village of Ruckers where the forward elements of the Brigade, 12th Cavalry, had already pulled back too, disentangling themselves from the enemy. To the right, a small wood about a kilometre long restricted their view, but the Third-Platoon had that covered. The Third could also switch their fire east, towards the village of Elm. The high ground of the Ebertsberg, east of Elm, was covered by elements of the 2nd Armoured Battalion. The platoons were also equipped with the M1 Abram’s, a tank the men had confidence in after changing the old M-60 for it. Whatever Soviet forces came at them, they would put up a good fight. This time, it wasn’t a mere cavalry squadron, as powerful as it was, but a full armoured brigade of some 4,000 men.
Hendricks looked over his spot again. They had a good hull-down position, and all his crew knew the location of a further two should they need to pull back. To his right was a second position for his tank, a shallow ditch with a fallen tree perpendicular to it. Once they had fired a couple of rounds from his current berm, he would shift to this new location, covered by other tanks in the platoon as he did so. They, in turn, would conduct a similar manoeuvre while Tango-One-One and Tango-One-Two covered them. There was nothing out in front of them now but the enemy would be here soon. Two Medium Atomic Demolition Munitions, small nuclear devices of one kiloton each, had been detonated between Eichenzell and Neuhof on the valley floor along the Autobahn route. Other areas, north and south, had been treated in the same way, using nuclear landmines, powerful demolitions, to degrade the route the Soviet forces would have to take. Two more had been detonated west of Hutten and Gundhelm, obstructing the entrance to two further valleys. Before detonation, German civilian police and Jaeger troops had evacuated civilians in the local areas. Although many civilians had earlier become refugees, flooding west in front of the wave of Soviet forces behind them and fleeing the battle before they became engulfed in it, a few had decided to remain with their homes. When advised of what was about to happen close to their villages, to a man and a woman, they chose to leave.
Hendricks’ men had felt the earth shake when the devices had exploded, tearing the earth apart, even vibrating the sixty-ton main battle tanks. They had received a warning when the detonations would be initiated, giving them time to ensure their eyes were protected. Even facing away from the location of the blast, night suddenly turned to day. The estimate of casualties had been as few as ten killed and thirty injured at each ground zero. In the immediate vicinity of the blast, the fireball would have expanded to a radius of nearly 100 metres, and a powerful blast out to four times that distance which would easily destroy heavy buildings, and most residential buildings would collapse. Anyone within three quarters of a kilometre from ground zero would be exposed to a high rem radiation dose and, without swift medication; it was likely that the mortality rate would be as high as ninety per cent. More importantly, torn up trees and disturbed earth, deeply rutted, would degrade the route that the Soviets would have to take.
Fallout would also be an issue for the advancing Soviet soldiers. The wind, blowing a steady five to ten kilometres per hour, would take the fallout away from the US troops and towards the enemy. From each ground zero, there would be a cloud moving slowly east, out to about twenty kilometres, where exposure would drop to around one rad per hour. In total, over fifty square kilometres would be affected.
Hendricks mounted his M1 and dropped down into the turret, checked in with his crew, and confirmed there had been no messages from HQ. He laid his map on the rim of the hatch and ran his finger along the stop-line they were defending. Moving his finger further east, he picked out the areas designated as artillery targets, committing them to memory as best he could. A FIST, Fire Support Team Vehicle would be close by, ready to call in fire when needed. M109s, nine kilometres to the rear were ready to support him, and the rest of the battalion, when called upon.
He then picked up his binoculars and scanned those sectors, making sure that, if it were up to him to make the call, he would get it right. The night was drawing in and he had been warned by his battalion commander that the Soviet unit, elements of 8th Guards Army Division, once 12th Cav had pulled right back, might probe their positions during the hours of darkness. Scouts in vehicles and on foot would shortly be sent out ready to interdict any such reconnaissance, replacing the helicopters of the 2nd Attack Helicopter Battalion that would attempt to track the Soviet armours’ progress right up until the last minute. He’d heard reports that the aviation regiment was getting a hard time. The ZSU-23/4s were proving to be an excellent weapon of choice for air defence, taking out three helicopters, two AH1Fs and one OH58C in the last few hours. All he could do now though was wait.
Chapter 4
2210, 8 JULY 1984. MINISTERIUM FUR STAATSSICHERHEIT, MFS STATE PRISON, HOHENSCHONHAUSEN, EAST BERLIN.
THE BLUE EFFECT -3 DAYS
Bradley slowly woke up, his senses reeling, nearly causing him to black out again. With pulsing temples and a pounding headache, the black bag over his head and face was stifling. He was curled up on the floor, his knees up, arms cradling them, almost foetal-like. He wriggled his fingers, and then flexed his hands: they were free of restraint. He slowly stretched out his legs, yelping with pain where soldiers wearing heavy military boots had repeatedly kicked him. The sound uttered from his cracked lips was swallowed up instantly and, for a moment, he wasn’t actually sure he’d made a sound. He shifted his body again, spitting a piece of the bag out of his mouth after su
cking it in when taking a deep breath. He could feel something behind him and used its soft surface to gain traction and lever his body into a sitting position. This made him feel nauseous and he heaved, retching, his head pounding even harder, white flashes of light, like shooting stars racing away from his eyes. He stopped moving, resting his back against the padded wall.
Once his stomach had settled and he had swallowed back the bitter taste of bile, he reached up to remove the hood, wanting a view of his surroundings. With the coarse material removed, the dark was replaced by yet more darkness: a blackness that ordinary eyesight couldn’t possibly penetrate; a blackness that was suffocating in itself. Bradley’s fingers explored his body, assessing his injuries. They didn’t have to move far before they discovered egg-shaped lumps on various parts of his anatomy, and a particularly large swelling on the side of his head.
He attempted to stand, slapping his hand against the thick, black, ribbed sides of the isolation cell. Beneath his hands were rubber-coated walls, thick soundproof insulation that completely encapsulated the cell, top to bottom, in a waterproof and soundproof shield. He eventually pushed himself upright, his legs trembling as his stomach suddenly heaved again, vile-tasting stomach acids burning his throat and tongue. He retched again. Only greenish brown bile left his mouth and stomach as he slumped back to the floor.
He suddenly had a raging thirst and called out, “I need some water…hello.”
He could barely hear his own voice as he tried to shout louder, the sounds dampened and going nowhere.
“I need water,” he almost whispered.
