The Blue Effect (Cold War)

by Harvey Black

  “Yeah, but what about the butterfly cakes?”

  “Hey, she spoils me, not you. But there are some ginger biscuits in the tub. Freshly baked.”

  William Jackson sat at a small metal table; more of a metal shelf bolted to the wall with two legs supporting it, and pushed the Tupperware container of biscuits towards his fellow observer. They were one of over 700 observer teams called out on the basis that there was the potential for a nuclear attack on the United Kingdom. Although a uniformed force that came under the command of the Royal Air Force, they reported operationally to the United Kingdom Warning and Monitoring Organisation.

  “Have you done a kit check?”

  “Somebody had to do it while you took your time getting here. You need to countersign though.”

  Charlie picked up the list of kit they had to ensure was on hand, and was needed to fulfil their role as observers. The HANDEL receiver was next to Bill, the handle, used for the hand-operated siren, the pyrotechnic-maroon, a means through which they could warn the local population of an imminent attack. The maroon would explode in the air: bang, bang-bang – the Morse code letter ‘D’. They both turned towards the carrier-receiver as it issued the start of a six-second alert signal. Even in the poorly lit chamber, anyone looking would have seen the two men’s faces pale.

  “Oh God, no,” uttered Charlie.

  Once the initial alarm was finished, the carrier-receiver transmitted the alarm signal for a further six seconds.

  Neither man moved as the following words were emitted from the speaker. “Attack warning red, attack warning red, attack warning red.”

  They both stared at the speaker as a high-pitched, uninterrupted tone sounded for four seconds, followed by a lower-pitched tone lasting a full minute, interrupted every four seconds. The entire sequence was repeated, and only then did the two men move, their thoughts disturbed by the arrival of observer three.

  “Sorry I’m late,” the third member of the team shouted down the shaft. They heard the ringing bell of a Green Goddess as it roared past on the road above.

  “You’ve just made in time. Did you hear the alert as you came down the ladder?” Bill asked the new arrival.

  Alfie Rose dropped to the concrete floor from the last two rungs of the ladder. “Yes, I did. Police and Civil Defence teams are running about like headless chickens up there.”

  “If you’d left it any later,” responded Bill, the leader and observer one, rather sarcastically. “You’d be a headless chicken yourself, but fried. Right, Charlie, you man the loudspeaker telephone.”

  As Charlie made his way to the telephone, a message was transmitted from the post display plotter. “Horsham, ten, eleven, twelve posts. Standby for message. Over.”

  Horsham Ten-Post responded. Then it was Charlie’s turn. “Horsham-Eleven Post. Over.”

  “Attack warning red. Message ends. Over.”

  “Horsham-Twelve, thank you. Out.”

  In the meantime, Alfie, observer three, switched on the fixed survey meter (FSM) and confirmed that the check sequence read zero-zero.

  “Confirmed zero-zero, Charlie.”

  “Horsham Eleven-Post. Over.” Observer two transmitted to the post display plotter.

  “Horsham Eleven-Post. Over.”

  “FSM on. Over.”

  “FSM on. Out.”

  The team of three men would now commence and maintain a continuous watch on the bomb power indicator.

  Bill sat on one of the bunk beds up against the wall at the opposite end to the entrance shaft. “Buggers have done it,” he moaned.

  “We’ll know soon enough,” added Alfie.

  “Come on, you two, it’s not definite,” suggested Charlie.

  “Horsham Eleven-Post. This was an exercise. Stand down. Over.”

  “Horsham Eleven-Post. Thank you. Over.”

  “Horsham Eleven-Post. Out.”

  “Bastards,” growled Alfie. “Playing games at a time like this.”

  Bill patted both his fellow observers on their shoulders. “Hey, let’s be thankful. It wasn’t for real this time round.”

  “Yes. This time round…” added Charlie.

  Chapter 24

  1730, 10 JULY 1984. 15TH MISSILE BATTERY, 50TH MISSILE REGIMENT, ROYAL ARTILLERY. AREA OF WAGENFELD, WEST GERMANY.

  THE BLUE EFFECT -33 MINUTES

  The tracks of the erector launcher were locked and the straps securing the missile removed. The rear platform was lowered, and two soldiers, dressed in their NBC suits, ran forward and proceeded to attach the four fins. Gunner Boyes cranked the launcher, raising it enough to allow Bombardier Jones access to the panel. The NCO loosened two screws before removing a small oval panel, tucking it beneath his armpit. He armed the nuclear-tipped missile; then replaced the cover. Joining Boyes, he helped the soldier lift off the protective cover from the MGM-52 lance missile. Sergeant Lawson, in the meantime, sighted the missile before entering the parameters for the warhead. Once the men had completed their respective tasks, the six-metre missile was slowly raised until it was in the correct azimuth with the nuclear warhead pointing east in the direction of a part of West Germany that would be the target of its deadly load. It was not the standard nuclear warhead that could be carried by this messenger of death. The standard would be between a ten-kiloton and 100-kiloton nuclear warhead. This one was special, a W70-3. This was seen as more of an anti-personnel weapon rather than an anti-infrastructure destroyer and killer of civilians. The W70-3 was a neutron warhead, with an enhanced radiation capability. Once the missile was ready to launch, two of the gunners sprinted back to the firing point where the weapon launch would be controlled. The remaining two soldiers carried the remote launching unit, unwinding the firing cable behind them as they went.

  The officer in command got the nod from the two men that their task was complete. “Standby then. Ensure safe.”

  “Ready here, sir,” confirmed the corporal at the control box. “On safe.”

  “Minus one minute,” added the sergeant next to him.

  The officer crouched down next to them. “Arm.”

  “Minus three-zero,” the sergeant, listening to the comms, informed him. He then flipped the cover that allowed him to arm the weapon.

  “Minus thirty,” confirmed the captain in command. “Standby, standby.”

  The sergeant flipped the red cover up, exposing the firing switch.

  “Minus two-zero.”

  “Minus twenty,” added the captain.

  The sergeant’s gloved finger hovered over the switch as he counted down. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero.”

  “Fire!” ordered the captain, and the switch was depressed.

  One hundred metres away, two jets of black gas shot out from vents halfway up the missile, quickly followed by the white-hot flame discharged from the rocket motor, engulfing the launch platform in a thick black cloud, punctuated by the hot white and yellow flame as the burning liquid propellant thrust downwards, forcing the projectile to leave the launcher. In less than a second, the missile left the rail and climbed at a sixty-degree angle higher and higher, leaving a black trail behind it, marking its progress as it flew towards its prey. The sound of the launch was like the din of a heavy airliner blasting off from a runway, slowly diminishing until it merely sounded like an aircraft flying overhead at high altitude. Eventually, there was just a faint glow from its tail as it rapidly disappeared from view; ultimately only the swirl of a contrail evidence of its journey. A further 700 metres to their north, a second lance missile streaked across the sky as it too flew towards a very different target. Elsewhere, an American unit fired two lance missiles carrying the same deadly warhead. The last pair to blast off were launched by a West German missile unit.

  Chapter 25

  1803, 10 july 1984. 12th mechanised division, 1st polish army. east of bremen, west germany.

  the blue effect

  Colonel Bajeck’s view of the landscape in front of him suddenl
y disappeared, replaced by a blinding white light. He, along with twenty or more tank crews of the Polish tank battalion, was about to experience the effects of flash-blindness. They had just witnessed the detonation of a West German neutron warhead exploding 200 metres in the air above one of their sister tank units, T-72s moving into position ready for an attack the following day.

  “I can’t see! I can’t see!” Shrieked a sergeant close by. Shouts could be heard from other soldiers of Colonel Bajeck’s tank battalion. Flash-blindness, an effect of the initial brilliant flash of light produced by the nuclear detonation, is harmful to the human eye. The retina, unable to tolerate the high levels of light focussed by its lens, caused the visual pigments to bleach. Unknown to the panicking tank crewmen, some injuring themselves as they blundered around their environment, the effects would only be temporary, perhaps gaining some level of returning vision within the hour. For some of their comrades, directly beneath the detonation, the suffering was far worse.

  Lieutenant Sawicki, sitting cross-legged on the glacis of his T-72 tank directly beneath the blast wave, was flung against the armour of the adjacent tank. His body was incinerated a second later. Any tank crews sat, stood or sleeping outside of their vehicles, suffered a similar fate.

  Further afield, Corporal Zawadzki, adjusting a cam-net at the time of the detonation, was not only blinded but his exposed skin experienced third-degree burns, and the flesh on his hands and face smouldered along with his uniform clothing. He felt no pain. There were no nerves alive within his flesh to send signals to his brain of the terrible damage that had been inflicted upon his body. His comrade, sitting next to his T-72 tank, screamed as he dropped the mug of hot soup onto his lap. The sensation of the burning liquid soon unfelt as the nerves of his seared hands and face overloaded his nervous system, blocking out all pain. Many of their fellow soldiers were not so lucky, and screamed in agony, some passing into unconsciousness, such was the level of torture they were experiencing. Even further away from the centre point of the detonation, the tank crews didn’t escape as they were bombarded by a lethal dose of neutrons and gamma rays.

  1803, 10 JULY 1984. MOTOR-SCHUTZ REGIMENT, 8TH MOTOR-SCHUTZ DIVISION, 5TH GERMAN ARMY. AREA OF TELLINGSTEDT, WEST GERMANY.

  THE BLUE EFFECT

  The tank crews, fulfilling some of the maintenance requirements to keep their T-72Ms functional for the forthcoming battle they knew would be a tough one, saw and heard the blast of a nuclear warhead as it struck one of their battalions half kilometre away. Although shocked by the power of the blast and the intensity of the light generated, those in and around the tanks that had guessed what had occurred, felt lucky that they had survived.

  Immediately beneath the Enhanced Radiation weapon, and out to a radius of 100 metres, houses, buildings, fencing, trees and people were first flattened then engulfed in a conflagration with an intensity that could not be envisaged, only experienced. As per its design, the casing of the neutron bomb was made of chromium and nickel rather than uranium and lead. With the addition of tritium adding to the cocktail, the neutron yield was ten times that of a conventional nuclear bomb. With a greater focus on the transmission of radiation rather than that of blast and thermal radiation, this ‘clean kill’ weapon increased the gamma and neutron intensity.

  The crews congregated, seeking an explanation and orders from their officers and NCOs. They discussed the event they had just witnessed and listened to their fellow soldiers, those who recognised what had just occurred. There was a sense of relief in their survival, but a concern for those that may have not survived. The men within the tanks, or under cover, had felt the blast, but at a distance of half a kilometre, all they had experienced was a jarring of their vehicle or hide. However, unbeknown to them, their bodies had been bombarded with a lethal cocktail of strontium, neutron and gamma radiation. The neutron radiation transmuted the surrounding area rendering it radioactive, as it would remain so for many years to come. The armour of the crews’ combat vehicles, tanks, trenches with overhead cover, and box-body vehicles was no barrier to the high, acute radiation dose the hundreds of East German soldiers’ bodies were now absorbing. The ionising radiation went to work immediately, damaging bone marrow and the intestinal lining. Acute radiation sickness would soon follow. Those men that experienced the highest levels of absorbed doses would experience nausea, loss of appetite, vomiting and severe abdominal pain within a matter of hours. This would be indicative of a fatal dose that without major treatment such as a bone marrow transplant meant that death was inevitable.

  Corporal Eberhardt, who had been sitting in the fighting compartment of his T-72 at the time of the detonation, had felt the ferocity of the blast, but felt protected, deep inside the thick armour of the main battle tank. But, unknowingly, he had received the full vehemence of the emitted radiation.

  As he patted his Kameraden on the shoulder, although sad for the other Kameraden that would have no doubt been killed, he was overjoyed about his and his friend’s own survival. But, inside his head, he had already started to feel twinges of pain. In just over an hour, the pain became more severe. Along with other invisible damage, his bodily functions would shut down and he would be dead in less than two days.

  Most of the crews of the tank battalion would be incapacitated within a matter of hours and dead within fourteen days. Ironically, the majority of the T-72 main battle tanks would still be serviceable.

  1803, 10 JULY 1984. 25TH TANK DIVISION, 20TH GUARDS ARMY. BAD NENNDORF, EAST GERMANY.

  THE BLUE EFFECT

  As Lieutenant Colonel Belochkin staggered out of his command tent, his sickly-looking second-in-command handed him a radio handset.

  “It’s divisional headquarters, sir.”

  “This is Belochkin. Over.”

  “Belochkin, we’ve lost contact with your regimental headquarters. What the hell is going on down there?”

  Colonel Belochkin lowered the mouthpiece and retched, dropping to his knees, his legs shaky and his face as white as a sheet. He heaved; a gush of vomit spattered the ground beneath him. He recovered slightly, wiping the streaks of puke from his mouth and nose with his sleeve.

  “We’re in a bad way, sir. Need help.”

  “Who am I talking to?”

  “Colonel Belochkin, sir. 2nd Battalion.”

  “Get a grip, Colonel Belochkin. I need an update. We know you’ve been hit, but you need to get moving, now. Why can’t we raise your regiment? We even had trouble getting through to your battalion for that matter.”

  The Colonel breathed deeply, still on his knees, bending at the waist as he thought he was going to be sick again. But this time it was at the other end as a foul smell reached his nostrils. Warm, sticky diarrhoea ran down his legs, his stomach groaning and his legs trembling uncontrollably.

  “We are not…in a position to move…Comrade General. I don’t know…where my regimental commander is. One company alone has twenty men with serious injuries, and many are sick.

  There was silence at the other end. Soviet high command had received the warning from NATO representatives. The warning came with a caveat: Continue to use chemical weapons, and NATO will escalate to a tactical nuclear conflict, the consequences of which will be unknown to all.

  “You must get your battalion ready to fight Colonel. Do you hear me? Colonel?”

  The handset fell from the Colonel’s hand and he slumped to the ground, pulling his legs up to his chin as the pain lanced through his innards.

  1803, 10 JULY 1984. 62ND GUARDS TANK REGIMENT AND ELEMENTS OF 20TH GUARDS ARMY. NORTHEAST OF BAD NENNDORF, WEST GERMANY.

  THE BLUE EFFECT

  Although Colonel Trusov’s tanks had been able to stand up to the significant amount of blast and heat from the nuclear explosion detonated close to his regiment, the lethal dose of radiation emitted by the ER weapon just passed through the armour, eroding the crews inside. Whereas a dose of six Gy would be considered lethal, killing half of those exposed to it, the symptoms taking some
hours or days to appear, Trusov’s men had received between seventy and eighty Gy. A lethal dose had blanketed his men, out to a radius of half a kilometre.

  Trusov clambered out of the turret of his T-80K, nausea causing him to feel faint and unsteady on his feet. He gagged and heaved, bringing up the food he had eaten earlier in the day. He saw other tank crews, wandering around in a state of shock. He went to call out to them, order them back to their vehicles, to be ready if called upon to do battle. All he succeeded in doing was to trigger a new bout of queasiness. His ashen-faced driver, Kokorev, and Barsukov, his gunner, joined him. Both collapsed to the floor.

  “What’s happened, sir?” Kokorev appealed to him, followed with a bout of retching, finally vomiting the foul-smelling contents of his stomach onto the ground.

  “The West has detonated a nuclear bomb. You had better prepare for the worst.”

  Barsukov moved closer to his regimental commander as the officer dry-heaved but brought up nothing.

  “Do you think we’ve had a bad dose, Comrade Colonel?”

  “The worst kind. Make yourselves as comfortable as you can. We’re going nowhere. I need to contact HQ.”

  He climbed back onto his T-80K command tank, not realising that the armour would be exposing him to radiation for at least another forty-eight hours. After another short bout of retching, bringing up only bile, he dropped into the turret and picked up the handset of the radio. Before he could transmit, still holding the mouthpiece, he pressed both hands to his temples as a sudden thumping migraine racked his skull. He released his head and stared at the handset. He could see clumps of his hair clutched there as well.

  Trusov dropped the handset, slumped in his seat and ran his fingers through his hair only to find more tufts sticking to his sweaty hands. He rested his still pounding head against the contaminated armour, closed his eyes and wept.

  Chapter 26

  1930, 10 JULY 1984. COMBAT TEAM BRAVO, 14/20TH KING’S HUSSARS, 22ND ARMOURED BRIGADE, 1ST ARMOURED DIVISION. EAST OF ESPELKAMP, WEST GERMANY.