“Who is training this early?” came the irritated reply. “And they had better not be using live ammunition.”
“But sir, I do not think this is a training exercise. It sounds like the field is under attack!”
“Attack? From who? From where?”
As he said that the Captain on the other end of the line was distracted by another phone ringing, and now he heard hoarse shouting through the voice tubes. “Airships sighted at twelve-o’clock!”
His eyes registered surprise, then alarm. “Cast off all lines! Make ready to vent emergency ballast! All hands to battle stations! Prepare for rapid ascent!”
He knew he had only minutes, perhaps only seconds to get Talmenka moving, get her nose up from that tower mooring and gain elevation. He could not yet see them, but the shouting from the voice tubes was warning of the approach of two ships. Cruiser Anapa was coming in low over the airfield, its 76mm recoilless rifles already blazing at a ground target, where a group of OT-7 mobile 45mm guns had rattled up to the airfield and were providing support fire for the rifle companies on the scene.
The assault teams found that even though the initial defense was scattered and somewhat disorganized, it was still no small matter to simply brush a rifle battalion aside. It wasn’t until the airships had finished offloading the heavy weapons and initial supply canisters that they could retract their sub-cloud cars and begin to gain some elevation. Slowly, they began to appear over the north field like a herd of elephants, and their recoilless rifles were going to make all the difference.
Anapa was soon joined by Kalgar and Kazan, and seeing them arriving, her Captain veered hard left and bored down on mooring Tower 1. The ship was soon in a gun battle with Talmenka, both taking and scoring hits at close range, with some rounds blasting the hard metal girders of the tower. It wasn’t exactly Pearl Harbor, but Talmenka was not going to make it very far from that tower.
Chapter 23
At airfield Number 2 southwest of the city, the rifle companies off four more airships were on the ground, joined by the “Flag Battalion” units, which had made a daring close assault drop very near the airfield and Mooring Tower 4. This group had a strong ranger company, and all the mortar and machinegun teams to support the attack. They went in hard and quickly cleared the airfield buildings, but found that a light tank battalion with BT-7s had been posted here, with the tanks sitting right out on the airfield. No enemy airships were moored here, so the field offered the best prospects for an early capture.
Confident that he could get those tanks off the field, an enterprising Colonel Sumarov got to a radio set once they had occupied the airfield service buildings and notified higher-ups that he was sitting on that objective. What he meant to say was that his troops were landed safely and attacking the field. No matter what was actually said, the gist of the radio call got the Luftwaffe pilots running to their aircraft where the Air Landing Division was already waiting on the planes.
Just east of that location, a little drama that might have been a slice of the long Russian civil war was playing out. There, after hearing the fighting as they fed their horses morning fodder, three squadrons of Tartar cavalry suddenly realized there was a battle going on to the south near the airfield. They mounted up in twos and threes, and soon migrated south to see the hulk of a massive airship hovering near the airfield. Troops were already pushing towards their positions, and so they simply drew sabers and charged.
Unfortunately, the assault companies landing in this initial wave were armed to the teeth, heavy on submachine guns and with good supporting medium MGs. They went to ground, waited for the enemy to come thundering in on them, and then opened up with everything they had. Horses and riders were soon tumbling into the snow, the charge literally cut to pieces. One brave Tartar was thrown from his mount when the horse was shot right out from under him. A skillful rider, he adroitly landed on his feet, sabre held high, and continued the mad rush forward until a trooper gunned him down. The charge broken, the squadrons withdrew to the north, thinking to simply screen that area now from the nearby woods.
Near the airfield, there were more BT-7 light tanks than expected, but the troops were able to engage them with 47mm AT guns that came off the last lift and were quickly into the action. Two hours later that airfield was cleared, the remnant of the light tank battalion withdrawing to the north. The signal was sent and the Luftwaffe was on its way.
At Kansk Airfield North, the situation was much different. While the ground action was successful, Talmenka was off its mooring and into a hot gun battle with those three enemy airships. In only minutes, however, the ship had at least half of its gas bags pierced by 76mm rounds, and when it was clear that it would not gain any further elevation, the Captain merely steered it for the airfield, where it came crashing down right onto the air strip in a flaming wreck. Nothing was going to land there for some time, and when Colonel Sumarov got the news on the radio, he cursed under his breath and gave the only orders possible.
“Alright,” he said to the Captain leading that assault. “Your attack there has failed. We don’t need Airfield 1. My men have done the job here. Pull out and clear Kansk east of the river. Set up blocking positions there, and be certain you control the main bridge. It will take time, but everything can land here at my field. You are now the west flank guard. Get moving!”
To hell with that, thought the Captain. He left men on the two bridges he already controlled north of Kansk, and with his supply caches at the assault LZ. To get to the main bridge he would have to move north, cross to the east side of the river, and then come in behind the assault battalion fighting on that side. It would be much simpler to just push down the west bank, and this is exactly what he did. The only thing in front of him was a squad of Military Police, so he and his men blasted Mooring Tower 1 to pieces, and then pushed on to do the same to tower’s two and three. When the last one went down he realized how useful it might have been for the extraction operation, but he had been told nothing of that, and assumed it was information known only to those above his pay grade.
Over the next few hours the Ju-52s were lined up one after another at Airfield South, landing, disgorging their men and supplies, then taxiing to the refueling station to take on fuel flown in by other planes. One windfall was the capture of all the aviation fuel there, which aided the refueling effort greatly. Once ready, the planes would take off again for the run back to Orenburg controlled territory west of the Ob River. There they would load on supplies for their second run in. Even with only one airfield serviceable this part of the plan, run by German pilots and ground crews, was coming off with well timed precision.
As the battalions of the Orenburg Air Landing Division formed up, they were led quickly west. Between Kansk and Ilanskiy, the only resistance on the ground was that scattering of Tartar cavalry that had nearly captured Volkov himself in the last battle. This time they would prove only a thin barrier and slight delay to the hardened infantry coming off those planes.
At the same time, the presence of 16 airships in the region allowed all the heavy weapons to be moved quickly forward to designated zones where the infantry could find it. This allowed the ground troops to foot it lightly east, many on skis for rapid overland movement. Colonel Sumarov expected more resistance, yet he was glad his strength was building up on the ground quickly. Now all he had to do was get everything east to Ilanskiy, for his battle would either be won or lost there. Scout teams that dropped well east of that town reported nothing was approaching by rail, but he knew time was a factor.
By God, the thought. I’ll take that damn railway inn if I have to level the entire town to get there. I still have no idea why Volkov wants this place. He brought the entire airship Corps here for this single operation, so it must be important. Maybe that’s the real plan, to lure in all the remaining enemy airships and destroy them for good. In that case, why commit all these ground forces?
He shook his head, realizing that he was not the first soldier with cra
zy orders in hand and a desperate mission in front of him. Nor would he be the last. If that were the plan, then where was the enemy fleet? The intelligence briefing indicated at least two airships moored at Ilanskiy, though they had wisely stayed where they were.
But all that was about to change.
* * *
High in the sky, riding a cold tail wind out of the north, Vladimir Karpov stood on the bridge of Tunguska, his face set in the same look his brother always had before a battle. Though he had fought many at the academy in training, and participated in fleet exercises, this was to be his first. He had grilled Tyrenkov on fleet tactics with airships, mainly to learn how quickly the ship could gain or lose elevation, and how that was done. He also needed to know the number of guns on each ship, its fighting power and speed, all factors that he was plugging into his mental computer.
They are like sailing ships at sea, he thought. They move slowly, rely on the wind at times, and they must get in very close to one another to utilize those short range recoilless rifles. The only difference is that they move in three dimensions instead of only two, like submarines without torpedoes, having to fire at one another with hull mounted guns instead. How very strange. While they have decent visibility, there is no sensor suite of any kind that is worth a damn—except my Oko panel. I can already see the exact positions of all the opposing airships, an advantage my enemy will not have here.
Then the game changer will be ranged attack. I need to give these air subs back their torpedoes, but the weapon’s load I was sent from Kirov was sufficient only to arm this single ship—my ship.
Now he began to run down the inventory he had at hand, thinking how best to use it. He had a number of MANPADS, Man Portable Air Defense Systems, the Russian Ilga 9K38 “Needle” that the West called the SA-18. It was a light hand-held system, just 24 pounds and about 5 feet in overall length. The warhead was 2.6 pounds, with 14 ounces of explosives. The range was only 5200 meters, up to an altitude of 3500 meters, so this, too, was pretty much a close in defensive weapon, but one he would adapt to a fast attack missile. The replacement missile, the Verba, went into service in 2015, but none ended up in Troyak’s larder. He did have other things of interest there, and they packed a good deal more punch.
The Kornet-EM anti-tank guided missile system was delivered. It could fire a seven pound automatic beam riding guided HEAT warhead that could blast through nearly 1300 mm of RHA equivalent armor, and range out 8000 meters. A second warhead used a thermobaric charge, and could range even farther, to 10000 meters. The extended range was developed to allow the missile to engage aerial targets, such as attack helicopters. Each system included eight ready to fire missiles.
There’s my torpedo, he thought. A pity I only have eight of them. The tripod launcher weighed only 66 kilograms, perfect for mounting on the forward and top platforms of Tunguska. Karpov had learned that gaining elevation on the enemy was a preferred tactic, allowing him to fire down on the vulnerable mass of the airship with the gondola mounted recoilless rifles. He filed that away, smiling. This was going to be very interesting.
“What will you do sir?” asked Tyrenkov as his little fleet began to gather over Ilanskiy. “It appears we’ve lost Talmenka at Kansk.”
“Smash them,” said Karpov. “What else? What is my current fleet status?”
“We join your two cruisers at Ilanskiy in five minutes, Abakan and Angara. With our division of four, that will give us six ships there, and Novosibirsk and Irkutsk are inbound with an estimated arrival time of 30 to 40 minutes.”
“What about Odessa and Omsk?”
“A little farther out.”
“They should be on my Oko panel by now. Have those crews inform me of their range and ETA.”
“At once, Admiral.” Tyrenkov moved to a nearby voice tube to the radar platform, wondering if this version of his commanding officer was as lethal and skilled as the elder brother. It was still so very strange to realize that there were two versions of the same man alive here in this world now. Something about that doubled his own problems when it came to thoughts of his own ambitions for power. There was something about them, even this one when he looked at you. It was as if he could see through walls, sense things about others around him, and read their disposition as friend or foe on a moment’s brief interaction.
“Very well.” Karpov looked to his Air Commandant, Bogrov. “Order the cruisers to 8,000 meters. Send the two battlecruisers right after them.” He reached for their names, knowing he must not fail to remember little details like this. Thankfully Bogrov repeated back his order.
“Right sir, transmitting orders to Riga and Narva at once. Shall I make the ship ready to climb as well?”
“Not yet.”
Bogrov hesitated for the barest moment, then simply said, “Aye sir,” expecting the order to come later. “Baikal standing by with us, sir.”
“Have her keep station behind us,” said Karpov. “We’ll hold at 3000 meters.”
He’s dividing the fleet, thought Tyrenkov as he watched. And he’s leaving our two best ships too low. Should I say something? I must be very cautious in front of Bogrov and the rest of the bridge crew. Karpov must not be seen to lose face here. He must appear as though he were completely in control of the situation.
“Are you planning to fight from low elevation sir?” He asked cautiously.
“The enemy is,” said Karpov quietly. “It is over 20 kilometers from Kansk to Ilanskiy. In this snow, that should take forces landing at Kansk at least four hours to get here and form for attack. So they will utilize their Zeppelins to move men and equipment more efficiently.”
“We’ve received word that they have broken off the attack at Kansk North,” said Tyrenkov.
“Because a loyal Captain took his ship down there to block that landing strip,” said Karpov. “They took Kansk South, so they will be coming along the lower road south of the Trans Siberian Rail.”
“Most likely, sir.”
“And once they get here they will try to leapfrog our outer defense perimeter there with their airship mounted assault teams.” Karpov clasped his hands behind his back, as he often did when explaining a situation to a junior officer. “That is when I will hit them.”
“They will certainly have ships on overwatch for any such operation,” Tyrenkov suggested.
“And now you know why I have just sent four airships to 8000 meters.”
Tyrenkov drifted closer, leaning in so only Karpov could hear him now. “Sir… You will risk keeping our two best airships low? Might it not be better if the cruisers were given the ground interdiction assignment. They can regain elevation very quickly.”
“You are a fleet Admiral now, Mister Tyrenkov?”
“No sir, but I just thought—”
“I am a fleet Admiral, Mister Tyrenkov. This is a simple situation, and I cannot expect you to see what is necessary here. Simply maintain your liaison with the Oko panel team. I want to know the minute any significant grouping of enemy ships approach my position.”
A watchman did Tyrenkov’s job for him, leaping from the ladder up and bringing news. “Sir, radar reports six enemy airships inbound at 5000 meter elevation. Range 12,000 and closing.”
“We’ll need to drop emergency ballast now sir,” said Bogrov. “We’re at 3000 meters.”
“Steady as she goes,” said Karpov calmly. “Signalman, make ready to send code one.”
This was something Karpov had drilled that signal team with, a series of codes he wanted sent in the event of battle. Some were to be transmitted internally, to various weapons platforms on Tunguska’s outer shell, others were signals meant for other fleet elements.
Tyrenkov seemed a little on edge. He did not appreciate the way Karpov had quietly told him off a moment ago, and now he was worried the next few minutes could see a situation developing that this man could simply not handle. Six enemy airships coming in at them with a 2000 meter elevation advantage was a highly dangerous situation.
; “Order Baikal to vent emergency ballast and climb to 5000 meters at once. Tunguska will vent nose ballast number one only.”
“Sir,” Bogrov ventured. “That’ll get our nose up a bit but we won’t even be able to climb through 4000 meters before they get here, even with the engines full out. It’ll take a full emergency ballast dump now. We’re too heavy.”
“We’ll lighten our load in a minute,” said Karpov. Steady as she goes.”
Bogrov clenched his chin, glancing nervously at Tyrenkov. He could sense the other man’s discomfiture as well, but the Intelligence Chief said nothing.
Vladimir Karpov was about to go to war.
Chapter 24
The attack was bold and fast when it finally came in. Six airships came from above, having supported the landing of three companies of troops they moved up from the west. The bulk of the Air Landing Division then surged north across a thin frozen stream that meandered south of Ilanskiy, eventually finding its way to a series of deep set bogs with frozen, marshy banks. Those six airships then vented ballast, climbing rapidly to 5000 feet, and bore down on Karpov’s position.
He had posted Tunguska and Baikal right off Tower Number 6, a little northeast of the inn, and right on the banks of the largest bog that flanked the town. Now the Captain of the Orenburg airship division, a man named Boris Gorelki, approached the scene in a seventh ship, the Pavlodar, one of the biggest remaining in the fleet at over 140,000 cubic meter lift capacity. He saw the two big airships at lower elevation far ahead, two cruisers higher up, with what looked like a pair of battlecruisers still struggling to reach 4000 meters to join them. He reasoned that all he had to do was keep his division at an altitude close to that, about 4000 meters, and his rifles should be able to pound those two big enemy ships from above, while taking little fire in return. So he ordered his cruisers to attack, hanging back to coordinate the battle from the rear.
Tide Of Fortune (Kirov Series Book 20) Page 20
