by Harvey Black
“One-Zero…crackle…north Luhden…Crossroad’s a mess…suggest you…north Buchholz….Over.”
“Engineers at location? Over.”
“Yes, but…crackle…need time. Over.”
“Hold north of Todenmann and wait. Out.”
Barbolin cursed at the delay and indicated for his driver to head northwest towards Buchholz. He then contacted the rest of his formation to do the same. He pushed his shoulders through the hatch, checking the ground ahead as they crossed an open field. He kept his forces moving forward at speed, suspecting, yet unsuspecting; comfortable that nothing could stop them now. In fact, he was confident the division could reach the River Weser without stopping. The British didn’t have a unit this side of the river that was actually capable of stopping the regiment’s seventy-plus tanks and additional BMP-2s. He believed that there was nothing between his unit and the river.
0520, 10 JULY 1984. 1ST BATTALION, 197TH GUARDS TANK REGIMENT, 47TH GUARDS TANK DIVISION, 3RD SHOCK ARMY. NORTHWEST OF TODENMANN, WEST GERMANY.
THE BLUE EFFECT -13 HOURS
Lieutenant-Colonel Kovrov, commander of the 1st Tank Battalion, ordered his driver to ease the T-80K forward another metre, the barrel of the 125mm gun poking through the other side of the line of trees. Once across the high ground, he had moved his unit off the Autobahn, where they would be sitting ducks if they remained. Out to his front-right, he could see an uncultivated field, and to his front-left a field with row upon row of what looked like the green foliage of a root vegetable. The German farmer wouldn’t be harvesting any of it this year that was for certain. Kovrov had just been informed that his regimental commander, along with the 2nd Tank Battalion, had skirted north of the E8/A2 crossroads and was preparing to move along the Autobahn behind him. The artillery battalion, with its twelve 122mm self-propelled howitzers, would form up east of Buchholz, ready to support the regiment when called upon. One platoon of six guns had been lost as a consequence of some effective counter-battery fire from the British. Their 175mm M107s, although not the most accurate of weapons, had a range of nearly forty kilometres. The platoon of Soviet 2S1s had been too slow in relocating after firing and was destroyed by the heavyweight shells.
Kovrov’s headphones crackled, and he received orders to move out, protecting the right flank of the regiment’s advance. He ordered 1st Company to go right, in formation with a platoon of BMP-2s, and he would lead the 2nd Company across the field of root vegetables with the 3rd Company following as the reserve. He felt the edge of the hatch dig into his back as the T-80K powered forward.
0525, 10 JULY 1984. 662 SQUADRON, 3RD REGIMENT ARMY AIR CORPS. SOUTH OF PORTA WESTFALICA, WEST GERMANY.
THE BLUE EFFECT -13 HOURS
“Hawk-One and Two, this is Buzzard-One. You have business coming your way. Over.”
“Hawk-One. Roger.”
“Hawk-Two. Acknowledged.”
“Hawk-One, Hawk-Two. Three, Tango-Eight-Zero. Two thousand metres Red-Bravo.”
“Hawk-One. Understood.”
“Hawk-Two. Roger.”
The two hovering Lynx helicopters now knew the enemy tanks were north of Eisbergen, and it was time for them to go into action. The Helarm had been initiated as a last resort, to blunt the attack of the massed line of tanks that were steadily rolling towards the Weser. Another pair of Lynx was positioned further north, and one pair was covering the road that ran parallel with the northern bank of the River Weser to the south. Hawk-One and Two, in the hover, slowly rose above the treeline that had been concealing them. The co-pilot, using the roof-mounted sights, zoomed in on the armour heading towards them, the tanks weaving around dips and potential barriers as they advanced, turrets swivelling as the gunner’s turned their main guns towards where a potential threat could be waiting to ambush them.
“Hawk-Two, Hawk-One. I’ll take right.”
“Roger, Hawk-One.”
Staff-Sergeant Hill, the gunner sitting in the left seat of Hawk-One, looked at the pilot. They were both ready. They were going into battle for the first time since the war started. Up until this moment, they had been held back in reserve. But now a Helarm had been requested, and they would get the chance to make their contribution and let the Soviet armour know the tables were about to be turned. He turned back to the weapon sights and prepared to fire. Once the target crossed the 1,500-metre line, the TOW missile was launched.
0530, 10 JULY 1984. 1ST BATTALION, 197TH GUARDS TANK REGIMENT. NORTH OF EISBERGEN, WEST GERMANY.
THE BLUE EFFECT -12.5 HOURS
Kovrov flinched as to his right one of his tanks flared up, flashes and sparks thrown up and out into the air, followed by billowing black, oily smoke as the T-80 skewed to the right before labouring to a halt. The shock wave of the explosion reached him, taking his breath away. His head snapped left as a second tank was struck by a TOW missile’s extended probe. The 5.9kg warhead detonated, the shaped-charge jet-formed and, at hypersonic speed, twenty-five times the speed of sound, the stream of heated material penetrated the armour, killing the crew inside. Two more missiles were launched from the pair of helicopters. Once clear of the launch tubes, the four short wings sprang out, and the tail controls to the rear sprung open. The two gunners, using a small joystick, kept the crosshairs on their respective target and, five seconds later, two more tanks were hit. This time, though, the TOWs were less successful, the explosive reactive armour fulfilling its intended role. On one, the outward explosion deformed the jet enough to prevent it penetrating through the turret. On the second, although one of the ERA plates did its job, the molten jet still managed to damage the turret ring enough to lock it in place. The crew survived, but the T-80 would need to be recovered and repaired.
“One-Zero call signs weave, weave for God’s sake. Weave. Six-One-Zero and Six-Two-Zero, this is One-Zero. Contact, contact. Where the hell are you?”
“One-Zero, Six-One-Zero. Six-One-One hit. Moving forward.”
“Hurry. Six-Two-Zero, report!”
“One-Zero, Six-Two-One engaging now.”
Far off to the right, where his flanking company was on the move, a flash caught his eye as another tank was hit. Kovrov cursed, angry that he hadn’t brought his air defence forward sooner. He had just lost one of his ZSU 23/4s. Another lost the previous day; he desperately hoped the remaining two could do something. The three SA-9 mounted BRDM-2s were also moving forward to give cover. He nearly slipped down into the turret as the driver swerved the tank violently to the right, doing his best to make them as difficult a target as possible. Kovrov pulled himself back into position as a blurred object shot by, striking the tank just behind to his left. The missile had detonated, but the reactive armour again defeated its effect, the tank surviving to fight another day.
0535, 10 JULY 1984. 662 SQUADRON, 3RD REGIMENT ARMY AIR CORPS. SOUTH OF PORTA WESTFALICA, WEST GERMANY.
THE BLUE EFFECT -12.5 HOURS
“Hawk-Two, Hawk-One. Moving.”
Hawk-One dropped back down behind the trees just as the Gazelle, Buzzard, took up a position 200 metres to the right, ready to plot the movement of the armour as the two Lynx moved further back to new positions. Two missiles fired. It was time to relocate.
A flash of light swamped the gunner’s view, overpowering the sight of his left eye as Hawk-Two, struck by a surface-to-air missile, fired by an SA-9 Gaskin, erupted into a multi-coloured, glowing cloud, as the explosion tore it apart. The two-and-half kilogram Frag-He warhead had struck the Lynx directly at the point where the fuel tanks were positioned.
“Christ!” Shouted Staff-Sergeant Hill as he watched the Lynx plummet to the ground, a much larger explosion engulfing the helicopter’s body as over 300 litres of fuel exploded, a tower of flame and smoke pirouetting upwards. There would be no survivors. The pilot couldn’t look. His focus had to be on getting them away and into their next location.
“Calling Hawk-One, Hawk-Two, this is Hawk-Three. We have troops dismounting with shoulder-launched missiles. Over.”
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br /> “Hawk-One. Roger that. Hawk-Two is down. Out.”
0540, 10 JULY 1984. 47TH GUARDS TANK DIVISION, 3RD SHOCK ARMY. WEST OF BUCHHOLZ, WEST GERMANY.
THE BLUE EFFECT -12.5 HOURS
“Zero-Alpha, this is Zero-Echo. Zero-Bravo is pushing hard and is right behind you. You have to make headway. Over.”
“Understood, sir. Helicopters have withdrawn. But One-Zero has taken casualties. Over.”
“Just keep moving, Nikolay. I have ordered more air defence assets forward.”
“Understood, sir.”
“No stopping. Out.”
General Arsenyev, commander of the 47th Guards Tank Division had made it clear: Colonel Nikolay Barbolin had to keep his tanks moving before his regiment caused a roadblock, with tanks backing up making a perfect target for enemy air assets and artillery.
The order was passed down the line, and Kovrov continued to move his 1st Battalion forward. The 2nd and 3rd battalions close behind. And behind them another tank regiment was powering west.
“One-One-Zero. This is One-Zero. Leave any crippled vehicles and keep moving. Acknowledge.”
“One-One-Zero. Understood. Units advancing.”
“One-Four-Zero, support One-One-Zero. Out.”
The commander of 1st Company, the right flanking company, with his remaining eight tanks, continued across the fields heading for a position north of Lohfeld, the motor rifle company moving to join them.
“One-Three-Zero, left flank, take up position south of Lohfeld.”
“Moving now.”
3rd Company picked up speed, bypassing their battalion commander.
“One-Two-Zero, hold position. Move in two minutes. Out.”
The units of Kovrov’s 1st Battalion picked up speed again, and he could see his 1st Company off to the far right. 3rd Company started to pass to his left, two platoons up front and the third at the rear. On his orders, the driver drove the T-80K forward and he closed his eyes and mouth for a moment as they drove through a cloud of choking black smoke, flames still licking at the turret of the T-80. No surviving crew could be seen. There were two more burning hulks that 2nd Company, when it moved, would leave behind. He twisted in the turret, clouds of dust in the pale light indicating that 2nd and 3rd Battalion were joining the attack, making space for the regiment not far behind them.
0545, 10 JULY 1984. 662 SQUADRON, 3RD REGIMENT ARMY AIR CORPS. WEST OF LOHFELD, WEST GERMANY.
THE BLUE EFFECT -12.5 HOURS
“Hawk-One, this is Buzzard. Four Tango-Eight-Zeros and one Bravo-Mike-Papa-Two. Approaching your previous location. Moving your location now. Standby.”
“Roger that, Buzzard.”
“Hawk-One, this is Hawk-Three. Engaging.”
Another TOW anti-tank missile left its pod, streaking towards its target, this time a BMP-2, the gunner concerned that it could well be carrying Soviet troops from the anti-aircraft platoon and carrying shoulder-launched surface-to-air missiles. If they managed to get close enough, the three launchers carried could prove deadly. There was a satisfying blast as the mechanised infantry combat vehicle was literally engulfed in an inferno. The turret was torn asunder, thrown up and sideways, and the ammunition ignited ensuring that not a living soul left the confines of its now flaming hull. For a fraction of a second, both the gunner and pilot felt some empathy towards the men who were experiencing a horrific death, but quickly focussed their thoughts back on the mission.
Another TOW missile left the rail, striking a T-80, but failing to cripple it. Again, they flew to an alternative position to start all over again. This time, a main battle tank was destroyed. Then the call came through.
“All Hawk and Buzzard call signs, this is Hotel-Zero. Romeo, Tango, Bravo. Acknowledge. Over.”
“Hawk-One. Romeo-Bravo-Tango.”
There was no call for Hawk-Two, who would not be responding to the call to return to base. The aircraft and its crew were still burning in a rapidly diminishing pyre on the ground. Two further Lynx helicopters did not respond to the call, but they had given the Soviet tank unit something to reflect on: nine T-80s had been destroyed, along with four damaged, and four BMP-2s, along with the troops that rode in them, had also been taken out of the fight. The Helarm had done what was asked of it.
The Soviets were adjusting their line, ready to push west again. The second tank regiment, still unable to push south-west, was going to ground until the traffic jam up ahead had cleared. The Soviet troops were about to feel the wrath of the retreating British Army for the second time that morning.
0550, 10 JULY 1984. 27TH FIELD REGIMENT, ROYAL ARTILLERY. SOUTHWEST OF MINDEN, WEST GERMANY.
THE BLUE EFFECT -12.5 HOURS
The three artillery batteries, now lined up in their appropriate formations, were taking up the positions allocated to them by their officers. They had plenty of room to manoeuvre. Pre-planned fire missions had been laid down, the location of the Soviet forces had been confirmed by the Midge drone and the Platypus’s SAR, updated by a recce flight earlier. The crews waited nervously, aware of the task they had been assigned, higher command wanting them to know how crucial their mission was if they were to give the retreating battalion a chance of survival and be available to continue the fight once they had rested and rearmed. On top of that, their mission was to cripple the advancing Soviet unit. Commands were given, and the first of the 155mm howitzers rocked back on their torsion-bar suspension.
0600, 10 JULY 1984. ROMEO-ONE-ONE, 1ST AVRO-VULCAN BOMBER FLIGHT. SOUTHWEST OF PORTA WESTFALICA, FORTY KILOMETRES FROM TARGET.
THE BLUE EFFECT -12 HOURS
The Vulcan pilots and their crews made their final checks. They were not afraid, but apprehensive, conscious that Soviet fighters could jump them at any minute.
Ten minutes out. Timing was crucial. They’d even been forced to do a circuit further back to ensure that they arrived exactly on the scheduled time. Too soon and they would have interfered with the Helarm and the artillery strike. Soon, they could deliver their bombs, and do their bit to contribute to the destruction of the enemy forces that seemed to have had it all their own way so far.
0605, 10 JULY 1984. 1ST BATTALION, 197TH GUARDS TANK REGIMENT. SOUTH OF PORTA WESTFALICA, WEST GERMANY.
THE BLUE EFFECT -12 HOURS
Lieutenant-Colonel Kovrov was still smarting from the comms he had just received. Colonel Barbolin, his regimental commander, normally of a calm disposition had actually ranted over the radio. Clearly, he had been berated by General Arsenyev. Soviet high command was impatient. The battle along the entire Soviet front had gone well so far, advancing around 150 kilometres in only five days. Stavka sensed victory, smelt the British army’s defeat and drove their soldiers to thrust the knife deep in a killing blow. Kovrov looked across to his right: a platoon of three T-80s, and behind those a platoon of BMPs. On his left was the same. The scenery changed slightly as his command tank crashed through a wire fence, and the force he was in line with moved from one cultivated field to another. Looking back, he could just make out a company of tanks from the 2nd Battalion rushing forward to take advantage of the ground taken. 3rd Battalion was moving up on the left, eventually taking over, allowing his battered unit to rest.
His vision was suddenly interrupted as a myriad of explosions straddled the force of armour to the fore. Instinctively, he dropped down and closed the turret hatch as explosions buffeted his own tank. He peered through the vision blocks.
“Faster,” he ordered his driver.
The tank picked up speed, the driver pulling hard on the left stick as he veered around a crippled tank. Kovrov’s tank rocked again as another barrage of improvised munitions straddled the platoon he was with. The DPICM sub munitions that landed on top of the thinner armour of both the tanks and the mechanised infantry combat vehicles cut their way through. Some were deflected by the ERAs, but this defensive coating as a matter of course was slowly being stripped away. More bomblets battered the advancing lines of tanks as the British artillery threw
down a carpet of destruction. Kovrov cracked his elbow as the tank rocked violently, the front slewing to the right as his driver lost control, the damaged track peeling off its bogie wheels. More explosions battered the advancing Soviet armour. Multiple explosions could be heard in all directions.
Clang. A piece of shrapnel struck the turret, causing his Gunner to shrink down towards the floor of the fighting compartment. Kovrov had told the driver and gunner to remain inside but to keep their eyes peeled for any advancing British armour. They couldn’t move, but they could still fight. Leaving the protection of their armoured shell to check for damage at this moment in time would be suicidal as a torrent of anti-personnel munitions engulfed the ground around them. The bombardment continued, Kovrov unable to pierce the haze of dust and debris thrown up by the myriad of explosions. The chatter between regiment and battalion confirmed that all three of the regiment’s battalions had been hit.
“One-One-Zero. What is your situation?”
“One-Zero…brought to a halt…engineers.”
“Understood. Fixed mines?”
“Negative…sir…dropped…the last salvo.”
“Your location?”
“Lo…n…xzxy.”
“Hold position until mine clearance. Out. Zero-Alpha. One-Zero. Need urgent mine clearance. Location west Lohfeld.”
“Will send. What is your situation, Colonel? You need to move. Elements bogged down behind you.”
“Zero-Alpha. Wait. One-One-Zero, this is One-Zero. Where are you? Over.”
“One-Zero. This is One-One-two. Comrade Major Yagalin is dead. We have three units destroyed, two damaged and stranded on the minefield, and no contact with our infantry. Over.”
“Understood. Hold position. One-Three-Zero. Stop, stop, stop. Report.”
“We have hit the same minefield, Comrade Colonel. One-Three-Three is stuck, two tanks damaged. No contact with One-Three-One and Two.”
He was unable to make contact with his other company or any of his Infantry.
“All One-Zero call signs. Consolidate your positions and await orders. Out. Zero-Alpha. Waiting confirmation, but estimate minimum additional twelve units disabled. Over.”