by James Rouch
From the bell tower of an ornate Gothic style church Revell watched events through high-powered binoculars. Many of the civilians had managed to break away from the Russians and were now making their way in to the city. No relief organisation could have coped with such numbers in such a short space of time and Revell saw them breaking in to houses and stores, coming out with nothing more than blankets and bottled water. That found they wrapped themselves and sat in the road and drank and drank.
The light Soviet armour was fanning out, frequently visible at intersections, when two or three vehicles would be seen stopped and their officers visible, consulting over a map, obviously lost. Once he glimpsed a short column of heavy armour, self-propelled guns of enormous size. Trailing them closely had been tankers and ammunition trucks.
There was a definite shift southwards. Even as the NATO artillery was trying to get a grip on the situation, firing on those areas where the enemy had pulled ahead of their human shield, the Soviet armour was moving out of those locations. The road network was empty of traffic, there was nothing to stop them, even slow them down, as they were already behind most the NATO defences and the local civilian population had bolted.
“Major, there’s a bit of flap going on. Some one has found we’re in the area and wants to speak to you.” Sergeant Hyde Looked out across the multi-coloured tiled rooftops. As he did two nearby building collapsed into piles of rubble. The adjoining properties were hidden inside the giant cloud of dust that hung about. A great thunderclap of sound went on and on as the structures progressively avalanched in to the street. “I wonder who the hell fired those?”
As they made their way back down to the ground Revell knew what point the NCO was making. The battle was growing more complicated. The attackers had lost some of their cohesion and the NATO defenders were struggling to find an answer to the Russian tactics. Confusion was blunting any NATO response while the Soviet troops could lash out in any direction with little fear of hitting their own side and the certain knowledge of doing damage to the NATO forces.
As he climbed in to the hovercraft he saw that their prisoner was growing pale and his head was lolling. He floated in and out of consciousness. There was no time for him now. He was too valuable to be lost in a POW stockade, but if they did not find adequate treatment soon then he would be a worry no longer.
“What have we got?” Revell had sent through a brief appraisal of the situation as he saw it and for once some one appeared to be listening. The response he had was from their C.O., Colonel Lippincott.
Ol’ Foul Mouth had certainly been less than happy at one of his precious hover APCs being sent on such a suicidal mission as to find, neutralise and try to return with a nuclear weapon from behind enemy lines. Though his message didn’t say as much, Revell could read what he was really saying.
“He’s found a way for us to get rid of the bomb.” Revell knew the squad would greet that with relief, but also with suspicion. The colonel was a great one for extracting his units from tricky situations by making them take on another. “We have to get ahead of this Russian advance, pick a bottle neck and dump the damned thing in their laps.”
“Can you make this bomb work?” Libby eyed the pack, now able to rock slightly on the floor where its securing straps had stretched. “After spending the last day or so from stopping it doing so.”
Carson and Lieutenant Andy exchanged glances. “That has never been a problem. Only one fail safe is still functioning.” Carson patted the pack. “We by- pass that and you just have to chose where and when. And as far as the yield goes, how much.”
From a flank position on a hilltop they watched the Russian vehicles shaking themselves out in to order. They were doing so under sporadic and largely ineffective NATO artillery fire. A bombardment of heavy missiles commenced and vast craters formed where the one-ton warheads impacted, detonating when they had plunged twenty feet into the farmland. Their effect was dramatic but rarely anywhere near their targets. Two arrived only minutes apart, bracketing a large farm complex and between them utterly destroying it. By chance a Russian supply column had been forming up among the buildings and barns and several fuel tankers dissolved in a sea of fire when their tanks were puncture, torn from their rugged chassis and hurled into the collapsing buildings. On the far side of the land just within the Majors range of vision another missile came down, a huge one.
Only a lone Russian APC was smashed, being left a hulk devoid of any fittings. Moments after the impact came the sonic boom of its passage.
“If they could do that twenty or thirty times, with a bit more accuracy, then we could just go home, after dumping our parcel with some appreciative boffins.” Dooley had thought for a moment they had witness an atomic explosion, judging by the fast climbing tall slim mushroom cloud that erupted. Shortly after two more fell, delivering their payloads further off and both flattening wide circles of firs when they landed in woodland and exploded as airbursts, before penetrating.
“Better make that a couple of hundred.” Clarence shrugged. He was not impressed by the accuracy or effectiveness of the missile artillery. With no terminal guidance the long range projectiles were simply an expensive way of remodelling the countryside, or of knocking down towns.
The mass of light armour was moving, the lead vehicles disappearing in to the distance rapidly. The rest began to follow, forming in to a huge and widely spaced column protected on its flanks by the flak vehicles. The monstrous self-propelled guns clanked along in the middle of the formation.
“Those great things are going to kick the crap out of the defences at Nurnberg.” Libby knew that the distance of four thousand metres was beyond the effective range of the anti-tank missiles they carried and the swarming light armour was going to prevent them getting significantly closer. Already a cannon and missile armed APC had spent several minutes watching them from the base of the ridge. A single wire guided anti-tank missile it had launched had failed in mid flight when the filament had broken, ploughing in to the hillside, burying its nose in the turf and its rocket motor, burning until it fuel was exhausted, starting a small fire among leaf litter.
After manoeuvring for a while the APC had got itself in to a position where it could elevate its low velocity gun sufficiently to engage them, but at extreme range Libby had been faster and had driven it away before it could fire, bouncing two cannon shells off its frontal armour.
“A squadron of Chieftains or M60s would stop them and make mince meat of the whole lot if they picked the right spot.” Hyde witnessed another missiles arrival. Its warhead erupted as an airburst and a wide circle of ground was churned. But only one APC was caught within its lethal radius, a vehicle that had failed to start and was receiving attention from its crew.
Dust rose to head height about it and then subsided to reveal the men were no more than a red smear upon the ground and the roof of their transport had been crushed and its tracks broken into its component pieces.
“The whole point is there are no M60s or Chieftains to block their path.” Revell elevated the command chair and sat with his head and shoulders above the cupola roof. He donned goggles and wrapped a scarf about his face to shield his nose and mouth. He could still speak through his throat microphone. “There is nothing between them and Nurnberg. They’ll arrive at the back door of that place and take the west bank of the river, letting the main Russian forces cross unopposed and create havoc. It won’t matter that they haven’t any heavy tanks. The direction they’ll be coming from there will be no meaningful defences to block them. And anything that is scraped together those assault guns will brush aside in no time.”
“If Nurnberg falls then Regensburg will be next.” Hyde knew the area well, had holidayed there before the war. “At a stroke they’ll have stretched the Zone a long way towards Wurzburg and even Schweinfurt. Taking Wurzburg gives them a straight run to Frankfurt. I can’t see the West German coalition government being able to stand up to that. They will throw in the towel, try to negotiate rath
er than fight on. They’ve been on the verge of that a couple of times already.”
“So this swarm of light stuff might just be what tips the balance.” Carson had taken out a knife and with it was cutting away those straps on the bomb that just hung down, with no function.
“Not if we can find a good use for that thing.” Revell indicated the bomb. “Not if we can find the right place to set it.”
* * *
To get ahead of the Soviet forces Burke had to drive flat out, taking incredible risks as they made a wide sweeping detour far out in to the countryside to avoid Soviet patrols. They crossed and recrossed railway lines and rivers, tearing through fences and every manner of obstruction. Twice they had to pull up and jump out to free the hovercraft from long ribbons of woven wire mesh fencing that even their speed had been unable to punch through. The second time they dismounted to find they were towing about a ton of two metre wire mesh fencing, countless posts and caught up in it several dead cattle and the remains of a Ford tractor.
“Hell,” Burke had got out to supervise the work.” I thought we were slowing. The wonder is we kept going at all. No other machine would.”
High overhead a pair of fighter-bombers began a steep banking turn.
“You sure our IFF functioning OK.” Watching the aircraft, Revell knew that there always existed the risk of their being attacked by their own side. He had seen it happen, and experienced the bitter frustration at such an event, when everything in you screamed for retaliatory fire and yet you knew you couldn’t.
The aircraft rolled in to a dive and spawned a scattering of decoy flares as they lanced down towards distant targets. As they pulled out of their dive one dissolved into several fire and smoke towing fragments.
The destruction was complete and sudden. It was unlikely anyone baled out. Certainly no parachutes blossomed but at the distance they might not have been visible.
“That could have been expensive if they only whacked an APC or two. Not a good exchange rate at all.” Tugging aside the last of the wire mesh Sergeant Hyde scanned the sky for any more evidence of the NATO air force. He didn’t really expect to see any. The sector had long suffered a paucity of air support. It must have been a significant contributory factor to the Russian decision to plough on with only close range anti-aircraft cover.
Usually a Russian advance would be sheltered under stepped anti-aircraft defences from a range of missiles and radar, from hand held weapons that could do no more than chip pieces off jets tailpipes to huge mobile rocket batteries quite capable of bringing down the biggest bombers from their maximum ceiling.
Again the countryside they were passing through was untouched by the war, had yet to become enclosed within the hell that was the Zone. Perhaps it would stay that way even when it was. Strangely some places survived in their natural condition even after adjustments of the front lines had enveloped them. Within the giant no-mans land of the Zone, an ugly swathe of territory from the Baltic coast down to southern Germany some of the ground even continued being farmed, though any produce had to be disposed of within the Zone. No supermarket would even stock produce that originated from the chemical poison and atomic weapon contaminated land.
Gradually though the influence of the Zone pervaded all the land between the main belligerents and affected the people trapped within it. The farms were neglected and then abandoned. The villages became more derelict, more over crowded.
Even now, not far away a mass of deep treaded tyres and churning tacks were starting the process that would spoil this beautiful Bavarian scenery.
“Do you reckon they’ll continue the advance at night?” Hyde had been watching from an opened hatch as the clouds began to build up, tall thunderheads boiling high into the sky and threatening more rain. He had to hold on tight to the rim of the opening as the vehicle bucked and skidded across a deeply ploughed field.
“Yes, I think they will, but at some stage they will have to stop and refuel those self propelled guns. The scout cars and APCs have a decent range but those big lumps are thirsty brutes. I saw some gas tankers among their supply column but I recon they will want to hang on to them for emergencies, when no captured stocks are available. I should think they will have earmarked some civilian facilities for that and that will be best done under the cover of darkness. An autobahn service centre will be their most likely place. They’ll have the capacity to take care of the SPGs and to top up the other vehicles. Boris, is there anywhere between here and Nurnberg that is obvious.”
“There are two locations major.” Boris had been scanning the route ahead. “One not far from here, the other another thirty five kilometres further on.”
Revell tried to put himself in to the mind of the Soviet officers leading the reconnaissance element of the advance, and the main body. Enemy doctrine was to keep moving, avoid fighting in built up areas where possible but above all to maintain momentum. It was likely that they would use both service centres, half refuelling at one and the rest at the second. Those who were assigned to wait until reaching the second would be getting short by the time they got to it. And that would be just after dark, early evening.
“We’ll take out the first one, force them to go on to the second. They can’t turn back, they’re over half way.”
“You want to leave them a gift for when they bunch up at the second.” Carson was anticipating what the major had in mind.
“We’ll have to use this stuff to deny them the use of the first service area” Thorne indicated the thermite. “The cannon won’t knock out a gas station the size of an autobahn halt. There must be safety valves and all sorts of devices to prevent any fires we start at the pumps spreading to the underground storage tanks. “We’ll have to move fast. The commies won’t be that far behind us by the time we finish rigging the place for destruction. I don’t fancy getting caught between a bunch of thermite and tens of thousands of gallons of gas, not with tracer firing scout cars and APCs taking an interest in our actions.”
* * *
The service centre was duplicated on both sides of the multiple carriageways. There was no civilian traffic, no staff. Doors hung open. Cash desks were unguarded. Word had travelled far faster than the Russian column “Heck, it’s the Marie Celeste of the motorway world.”
They drove in under the high canopy sheltering the many clusters of pumps. All of the lights were out. Thorne selected and passed out thermite blocks as the squad climbed out. He sent them off in pairs to put them in place. As instructed they ignored the pumps and made for the steel covers set in to the road at the side of the self-service store. By some freak of chance a circuit remained live and the automatic opening door kept doing just that. The noise of its motor and the scrape and thump as it opened and closed were the only sound until a single vehicle, a silver BMW saloon hurtled past on the carriageway.
“Some one has ignored the barricades and police warnings and thinks the Russians won’t bother them.” Simmons watched the car until its lights were lost from site. “He’s in for a shock.”
“Serves him right, arrogant bastard.” Libby levered at an inspection cover with a bayonet and slowly the heavy metal slab rose up. “You can just see him zig- zagging around the barricades, can’t you.”
“It’ll make a nice bit of target practise for the Reds, if he doesn’t pile in to the front of one of them.” Clarence looked in to the hole, trying to find somewhere to put the incendiary device among all the brass valves and connections. Finally he tucked it tight up against a pipe whose open end revealed glistening brass threads.
In the far distance, only audible because all around them was so quiet, there came the sound of machine gun fire.
“He found them then.” For good measure Clarence unscrew the chain-retained caps on a couple of pipes. “Handy of him to let us know how close they are.” Thorne visited each of the sites where they had put the thermite and set the fuses. Each of the blocks would blaze at furnace heat for five minutes. More than enough time for them to burn
through the tops of the tanks and fall in to the fuel below. The gasoline would instantly boil at far beyond its flash point and result in a huge explosion.
It was too much to hope it would catch any of the Russian advance guard. The most they might hope for was that even with the tanks a full hundred and fifty metres from the carriageways, the results might be so violent that the Russians would be forced in to a short detour.
Dodging the sliding door Dooley nipped in to the store and grabbed up a handful of chocolate bars. The selection was sparse, as it was everywhere in West Germany now and in any event he didn’t have the time to be choosy but just took what fell to hand. He rushed back to the APC, jumping aboard as the rear door hydraulics were just taking the strain and about to lift the heavy slab of armour.
“That’s nice, nearly closing me out. Here… “ He handed the bars around, even offering one to their prisoner… “Have a snack.”
The Russian only groaned and closed his eyes at the offering.
After treating the tanks on the other side of the autobahn in the same fashion they pulled out. The first section was a long steep climb. The Iron Cow made light work of it but it gave Revell a chance to watch behind them. They were just about at the top when he saw a motorcycle and sidecar pull up under the canopy, followed by a missile armed BRDM scout car, then it was all gone from sight as they started down the far side of the climb.
They had travelled no more than a few hundred metres further when a pale glow flickered in the sky behind them. Almost instantly it changed to a small but brilliant white light, then without sound it transformed in to a giant mushroom of flame. A second rose beside it, then a third and then a succession. As they flared up into the dark sky they were replaced by vivid pillars of light, great glaring fingers of fire that rose to a great height.
“You think we caught many?” Simmons listened to the officer’s report with satisfaction. “We must’ve caught some, they were right on our tail.”
