‘WELCOME TO EAST GERMANY—COURTESY OF 21 ENGINEER REGIMENT, ROYAL ENGINEERS’
The sign, marking the point at which West became East, was in large scarlet letters. Captain, no Acting Major Currie (she had to remember that) smiled as her Challenger 2 rumbled over a Medium Girder Bridge that the engineers had laid across a crater in the autobahn. It reminded her of pictures of similar signs she had seen from the Korean War.
Well, time to finish putting a stake in beast, she thought.
British troops had captured the Helmstedt-Marienborn border crossing and pushed on for four kilometres into East Germany before halting and digging in. Going any further was considered both militarily and politically unwise—for the moment. The Scots were far from the only NATO troops to have crossed into the East—American, Dutch, and Belgian, but not West German, troops had all crossed the IGB. To their south, French and Canadian forces had crossed into Czechoslovakia.
We’ll see what the Pact gets up to now, she thought. The enemy had initially retreated in good order. However, NATO forces had started to advance quicker than the Warsaw Pact could retreat. The well-ordered retreat had unravelled quickly, becoming a rout in many places. Now only a relatively small area of West Germany, bordered by the Elbe to the southeast of Hamburg and by Bundesstraße 207 to Lübeck, was still under enemy occupation. Hamburg itself had also been relieved, although it was now very much on the frontline. Someone on the other side had finally stopped the operational bleeding, but Currie couldn’t shake the sense that there was only a matter of time and reinforcements before NATO got the next lick in.
Of course, that’s if the politicians let us get on with it, she thought grimly. In any case, not my problem for a couple of days.
What NATO should do next was something that was currently being discussed in Brussels and in capital cities across the alliance. Some countries wanted to continue to push east, liberate the nations of Eastern Europe, and finish the job. Others counselled caution and pointed out that there was still friendly territory, including the Danish capital, Copenhagen, under Soviet occupation. The latter members’ logic ran that friendly territory should be liberated first before other nations were freed from the Soviet yoke.
“Okay lads,” she said into her intercom, seeing the Squadron assembly area up ahead, “let’s get this old girl into position so we can get some rest and refit done.”
“It’ll be about time,” the gunner muttered. “At least we don’t have as much work to do as those poor bastards in D Squadron.”
Currie winced at that. After the action at Schelerton, the battle group’s casualties had been fairly low thanks to the Challengers’ and Warriors’ protective capabilities. Still, around fifty men had been killed or wounded. While four of seven of D Squadron’s knocked out Challengers and its damaged Warrior had already been returned to service, the crews had suffered roughly half casualties. The three remaining Challengers had taken major damage, with one a total loss and the other two a return to the factory. None of the twelve men inside had survived.
“No, that we don’t,” Currie said. She saw that the refuelling tankers were busy with C Squadron, and realized it was going to be another fifteen minutes at least.
“I’m going to get a quick catnap,” she said as they pulled into their hasty hide. “Wake me up only if the Queen or Kremlin calls.”
* * *
“Captain! Cap…I mean, Major! Have you heard?” Lieutenant Potter called out as he saw Major Currie’s tank halt by the refuelling tanker.
Why are you not on your vehicle? Currie almost screamed, but figured it would be better to deliver that sentiment in relative private.
“I’m hopping off,” she called down to her gunner. She quickly swung down and began hurrying over to Potter.
“What is it?” Currie asked as she approached. The tone did nothing to diminish Potter’s smile, and for a moment she wondered if the man had finally cracked.
“It’s the Soviets, Ma’am. They’ve declared a ceasefire! It’s over! It’s over!”
“Calm down a minute, Mr. Potter. What are our orders regarding them?” she asked, ever cautious.
“Um…orders from SHAPE to all NATO forces are to not engage Warsaw Pact forces, unless they approach within one kilometre,” Potter said, holding up a message flimsy. “If they do that, they are first to be warned before being fired on.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Currie said, taking the flimsy and reading it.
“I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m not sure that it’s over quite yet,” she stated, handing over the paper. Potter looked exactly like a puppy whose master had strong footed it like a soccer ball.
“But perhaps now it is out of our hands and in the hands of the politicians,” she observed, then smiled. “Ask the Sergeant-Major if he still has any of that whisky that he thinks has remained hidden from me. I think this may call for a small celebration.”
Potter’s infectious grin returned, and she found her own expression broadening.
“But remind everybody we are in hostile territory, so keep alert. No one wants to be the answer to a future trivia question.”
* * *
Despite Major Currie’s pessimism, the ceasefire stuck. All across Europe and eastern Turkey, wherever NATO and Warsaw Pact forces met fighting sputtered to a halt. NATO forces dug in, while those of the Warsaw Pact pulled back a few kilometres before doing the same. Within two days, the Warsaw Pact opened negotiations in Geneva with their NATO counterparts. With revolution spreading, the former were understandably far more motivated to strike a deal than the latter.
* * * * *
Maps
Situation before the launch of Operation CONDOR.
Royal Scots Dragoon Guards Battle Group plan of advance.
A Company, The Black Watch, in action again Soviet anti-tank guns and infantry.
Soviet counter-attack east of Hildesheim and the British response.
Author’s Note
Readers who have read my web novel, The Last War, will notice that this story shares the general scenario and some characters from that work. However, as I said in relation to my last story, Per Ardua ad Astra (in To Slip the Surly Bonds) it is not a TLW story, but from a very close parallel universe.
Again, I want to thank all of those who have helped to make my work better. And I want to thank all those who have read my stories in the past. You make it all worthwhile.
I also have special thanks to my German kamerad, Henrik Löhr, who drew the maps, using the www.map.army website (used with permission). He is, as he has put it a ‘former German Navy officer (a fish-head doing grunt work, go figure) and occasional contributor to “Mr Niemczyk’s online magnum opus.”
* * *
Jan Niemczyk Bio
Jan Niemczyk was born and brought up in Scotland, where he currently lives. He has long had an interest in military history, aviation, naval warfare, cats and horses. He also has an interest in the Cold War. He is still amazed that anything he has written has appeared in an actual proper book.
Mr Niemczyk is the author of the web novel The Last War, an alternative history where the USSR has survived into the early 21st Century. He is currently employed in the public sector. He would also like to thank all those who have read his work, helped to make it better and who have bought the first two books in this series.
# # # # #
About Chris Kennedy
A Webster Award winner and three-time Dragon Award finalist, Chris Kennedy is a Science Fiction/Fantasy/Young Adult author, speaker, and small-press publisher who has written over 20 books and published more than 100 others. Chris’ stories include the “Occupied Seattle” military fiction duology, “The Theogony” and “Codex Regius” science fiction trilogies, stories in the “Four Horsemen” and “In Revolution Born” universes and the “War for Dominance” fantasy trilogy. Get his free book, “Shattered Crucible,” at his website, https://chriskennedypublishing.com.
Called “fantastic” and “a
great speaker,” he has coached hundreds of beginning authors and budding novelists on how to self-publish their stories at a variety of conferences, conventions and writing guild presentations. He is the author of the award-winning #1 bestseller, “Self-Publishing for Profit: How to Get Your Book Out of Your Head and Into the Stores,” as well as the leadership training book, “Leadership from the Darkside.”
Chris lives in Virginia Beach, Virginia, with his wife, and is the holder of a doctorate in educational leadership and master’s degrees in both business and public administration. Follow Chris on Facebook at https://facebook.com/chriskennedypublishing.biz.
* * * * *
About James Young
James Young holds a doctorate in U.S. History from Kansas State University and is a graduate of the United States Military Academy. Fiction is James’ first writing love, but he’s also dabbled in non-fiction with articles in the Journal of Military History and Proceedings to his credit. His next alternate history, Against the Tide Imperial, is the third novel in his Usurper’s War series set during World War II and will be published in 1st Quarter 2019. You can find more information on the series and James’s Comic Con schedule on his FB Page (https://www.facebook.com/ColfaxDen/), Twitter (@Youngblai), or by signing up for his mailing list on the front page of his blog (https://vergassy.com/).
* * * * *
The following is an
Excerpt from Book One of The Psyche of War:
Minds of Men
___________________
Kacey Ezell
Now Available from Theogony Books
eBook, Paperback, and Audio
Excerpt from “Minds of Men:”
“Look sharp, everyone,” Carl said after a while. Evelyn couldn’t have said whether they’d been droning for minutes or hours in the cold, dense white of the cloud cover. “We should be overhead the French coast in about thirty seconds.”
The men all reacted to this announcement with varying degrees of excitement and terror. Sean got up from his seat and came back to her, holding an awkward looking arrangement of fabric and straps.
Put this on, he thought to her. It’s your flak jacket. And your parachute is just there, he said, pointing. If the captain gives the order to bail out, you go, clip this piece into your ‘chute, and jump out the biggest hole you can find. Do you understand? You do, don’t you. This psychic thing certainly makes explaining things easier, he finished with a grin.
Evelyn gave him what she hoped was a brave smile and took the flak jacket from him. It was deceptively heavy, and she struggled a bit with getting it on. Sean gave her a smile and a thumbs up, and then headed back to his station.
The other men were checking in and charging their weapons. A short time later, Evelyn saw through Rico’s eyes as the tail gunner watched their fighter escort waggle their wings at the formation and depart. They didn’t have the long-range fuel capability to continue all the way to the target.
Someday, that long-range fighter escort we were promised will materialize, Carl thought. His mind felt determinedly positive, like he was trying to be strong for the crew and not let them see his fear. That, of course, was an impossibility, but the crew took it well. After all, they were afraid, too. Especially as the formation had begun its descent to the attack altitude of 20,000 feet. Evelyn became gradually aware of the way the men’s collective tension ratcheted up with every hundred feet of descent. They were entering enemy fighter territory.
Yeah, and someday Veronica Lake will…ah. Never mind. Sorry, Evie. That was Les. Evelyn could feel the waist gunner’s not-quite-repentant grin. She had to suppress a grin of her own, but Les’ irreverence was the perfect tension breaker.
Boys will be boys, she sent, projecting a sense of tolerance. But real men keep their private lives private. She added this last with a bit of smug superiority and felt the rest of the crew’s appreciative flare of humor at her jab. Even Les laughed, shaking his head. A warmth that had nothing to do with her electric suit enfolded Evelyn, and she started to feel like, maybe, she just might become part of the crew yet.
Fighters! Twelve o’clock high!
The call came from Alice. If she craned her neck to look around Sean’s body, Evelyn could just see the terrifying rain of tracer fire coming from the dark, diving silhouette of an enemy fighter. She let the call echo down her own channels and felt her men respond, turning their own weapons to cover Teacher’s Pet’s flanks. Adrenaline surges spiked through all of them, causing Evelyn’s heart to race in turn. She took a deep breath and reached out to tie her crew in closer to the Forts around them.
She looked through Sean’s eyes as he fired from the top turret, tracking his line of bullets just in front of the attacking aircraft. His mind was oddly calm and terribly focused…as, indeed, they all were. Even young Lieutenant Bob was zeroed in on his task of keeping a tight position and making it that much harder to penetrate the deadly crossing fire of the Flying Fortress.
Fighters! Three o’clock low!
That was Logan in the ball turret. Evelyn felt him as he spun his turret around and began to fire the twin Browning AN/M2 .50 caliber machine guns at the sinister dark shapes rising up to meet them with fire.
Got ‘em, Bobby Fritsche replied, from his position in the right waist. He, too, opened up with his own .50 caliber machine gun, tracking the barrel forward of the nose of the fighter formation, in order to “lead” their flight and not shoot behind them.
Evelyn blinked, then hastily relayed the call to the other girls in the formation net. She felt their acknowledgement, though it was almost an absentminded thing as each of the girls were focusing mostly on the communication between the men in their individual crews.
Got you, you Kraut sonofabitch! Logan exulted. Evelyn looked through his eyes and couldn’t help but feel a twist of pity for the pilot of the German fighter as he spiraled toward the ground, one wing completely gone. She carefully kept that emotion from Logan, however, as he was concentrating on trying to take out the other three fighters who’d been in the initial attacking wedge. One fell victim to Bobby’s relentless fire as he threw out a curtain of lead that couldn’t be avoided.
Two back to you, tail, Bobby said, his mind carrying an even calm, devoid of Logan’s adrenaline-fueled exultation.
Yup, Rico Martinez answered as he visually acquired the two remaining targets and opened fire. He was aided by fire from the aircraft flying off their right wing, the Nagging Natasha. She fired from her left waist and tail, and the two remaining fighters faltered and tumbled through the resulting crossfire. Evelyn watched through Rico’s eyes as the ugly black smoke trailed the wreckage down.
Fighters! Twelve high!
Fighters! Two high!
The calls were simultaneous, coming from Sean in his top turret and Les on the left side. Evelyn took a deep breath and did her best to split her attention between the two of them, keeping the net strong and open. Sean and Les opened fire, their respective weapons adding a cacophony of pops to the ever-present thrum of the engines.
Flak! That was Carl, up front. Evelyn felt him take hold of the controls, helping the lieutenant to maintain his position in the formation as the Nazi anti-aircraft guns began to send up 20mm shells that blossomed into dark clouds that pocked the sky. One exploded right in front of Pretty Cass’ nose. Evelyn felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as the aircraft heaved first up and then down. She held on grimly and passed on the wordless knowledge the pilots had no choice but to fly through the debris and shrapnel that resulted.
In the meantime, the gunners continued their rapid fire response to the enemy fighters’ attempt to break up the formation. Evelyn took that knowledge—that the Luftwaffe was trying to isolate one of the Forts, make her vulnerable—and passed it along the looser formation net.
Shit! They got Liberty Belle! Logan called out then, from his view in the ball turret. Evelyn looked through his angry eyes, feeling his sudden spike of despair as they watched the crippled Fort fall back, two of
her four engines smoking. Instantly, the enemy fighters swarmed like so many insects, and Evelyn watched as the aircraft yawed over and began to spin down and out of control.
A few agonizing heartbeats later, first one, then three more parachutes fluttered open far below. Evelyn felt Logan’s bitter knowledge that there had been six other men on board that aircraft. Liberty Belle was one of the few birds flying without a psychic on board, and Evelyn suppressed a small, wicked feeling of relief that she hadn’t just lost one of her friends.
Fighters! Twelve o’clock level!
* * * * *
Get “Minds of Men” here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0778SPKQV.
Find out more about Kacey Ezell and “Minds of Men” at:
https://chriskennedypublishing.com.
* * * * *
The following is an
Excerpt from Book One of the Salvage Title Trilogy:
Salvage Title
___________________
Kevin Steverson
Now Available from Theogony Books
eBook, Audio, and Paperback
Excerpt from “Salvage Title:”
A steady beeping brought Harmon back to the present. Clip’s program had succeeded in unlocking the container. “Right on!” Clip exclaimed. He was always using expressions hundreds or more years out of style. “Let’s see what we have; I hope this one isn’t empty, too.” Last month they’d come across a smaller vault, but it had been empty.
Trouble in the Wind Page 46
