The Red Effect (Cold War)

by Black, Harvey

  They were both perched on top of a BMD-1P, a mechanised infantry combat vehicle built especially for the airborne units. The Ob’yekt 915 was basically a trimmed down version of a BMP-1: smaller, lighter aluminium armour, but keeping the 73mm, smooth-bore, semi-automatic gun. The two officers were part of the 108th Guards Airborne Regiment, their mother division being the 7th Guards Airborne based in Kaunas, Lithuania. The BMD was parked on the periphery of the airfield, on hardened ground, now slightly churned up by the movement of many of the airborne infantry combat vehicles. They were about half-a-kilometre from the airport’s concrete apron, the assembled vehicles waiting for when they were called forward to be transported elsewhere. Many would be crated onto special pallets for an airdrop.

  Suddenly, to their west, on the furthest point of the apron, an IL-76D, a four-engined, strategic-airlift aircraft was trundling towards the head of the runway, the whine and power of the engines moving it into a position ready for take-off. It swivelled round, its nose pointing east into a fairly gentle wind, the four engines building up power until all were screaming, the hefty wheel brakes barely able to hold it in check. Finally, the plane was given permission to take off, the brakes released, and the engines reaching an even higher pitch as they thrust backwards, pushing the aircraft and its maximum take-off weight of nearly 200 tons at a rapidly increasing speed down the runway. The airborne officers watched as it got closer, mesmerised by its power as it rushed down the runway that was laid out in front of them. It was a beast of a plane with its high-mounted, swept-back wings, tapering to blunt tips, four turbo-fan engines mounted on underwing pylons throbbing as they propelled the aircraft faster and faster down the runway. The sound ever louder from the engines as the high-mounted, T-shaped tail fin shot past them. With the pilot ordering rotate, the front four tyres slowly left the ground followed soon after by the remaining sixteen low-pressure tyres beneath the main body as it slowly took to the air, the sound diminishing as it flew east, eventually banking west, taking its cargo to a destination somewhere in East Germany.

  “God, they’re even more bloody noisy outside than they are when you’re inside!” Lieutenant Colonel Stanislav Yezhov, battalion commander of one of the BMD assault battalions of the 108th Guards Airborne Regiment, laughed.

  The BMD they were perched on was one of at least thirty lined up on the spare ground that ran along the far end of the runway to their south. The second battalion, which also had these specialist infantry combat vehicles, had theirs lined up at the opposite end of the runway, closer to the airport buildings. The apron was overcrowded with Mi-8 Hip, Mi-6 Hook and Mi-26 Halo helicopters, and were now being joined by AN-12 Cubs and IL-76 Candid transport aircraft. The entire airport was overcrowded and buzzing with activity as the full regiment prepared to move to, as yet, an unknown location.

  “Still moving out at 0400 tomorrow, sir?” asked Yezhov.

  Colonel Boykov thought for a moment, his mind suddenly occupied with the forthcoming plans to deploy his regiment. He just couldn’t figure out what was going on. There was a large Soviet exercise, the largest ever, in progress and yet they were not involved. Live ammunition, along with other essential supplies, had been flooding into the camp at Kaunas for over a week now. A veteran of Afghanistan where he had commanded company and battalion-sized operations against Afghan resistance, everything he was observing now smacked of getting ready to go into battle. But with whom? It didn’t make sense. The fifteen air assault brigades and numerous airborne divisions, his included, had been honed into effective, deep-penetrating, powerful shock-forces; something they had practised for real in Afghanistan. In a conventional war, they had specific tasks to fulfil: to destroy the enemy’s nuclear capability, destroy or neutralise surface-to-air missile sites, disrupt logistics and lines of communication, and, more importantly, seize airfields, bridgeheads and key terrain. In effect, to maintain a clear passage for an operational manoeuvre group operating deep into an enemy’s rear defences. They were good at it.

  But at the forefront of Colonel Viktor Boykov’s mind was where. And why? “Yes, Stani, 0400. Our vehicles will be airlifted to our destination, as will we. The main body of helicopter and airlift regiments will join us at Cochstedt. There will be a briefing the following day and all will be revealed.”

  “And the HQ elements?”

  “I thought about assigning Hips, but the thought of being stuck in one of those things on a long trip...”

  “Thank God, sir. We’d die of cramp and end up completely deaf.”

  “We’ll fly with the Candids.” Boykov said with a smile.

  “If you’ll excuse me then, sir, I would like to make some last-minute checks on my unit. I don’t want you bollocking me for not being ready.”

  “Knowing you, Stani, your men will be poised and ready to move. But, you might want to give some of your comrades a nudge. I will be doing my rounds later and I expect them to be tight on this one.”

  Yezhov slid down the front of the BMD and onto the ground, and turned and looked up at his regimental commander. “You look worried, sir.”

  “Not worried,” Boykov said thoughtfully. “Just can’t shake off the feeling that something big is coming our way.”

  “Your instincts have never let you down, sir, but on this occasion?” Yezhov laughed, saluted and strode across the hard ground to another section of BMDs to talk with his men. He could see them in the distance, tying down bits of kit on the rear decks and packing what personal kit they could in the small compartment in the back, leaving them relatively baggage-free for the flight tomorrow – apart from, of course, their personal weapons: the AK74 with its collapsible stock. Some crews would remain behind to drive the BMDs on and off the aircraft.

  Viktor Boykov watched the officer walk away then looked west towards the airport, now bristling with activity. He too dropped down from the top of the BMD and walked towards the airport buildings, heading towards his other battalions to check on preparations being made. He stopped suddenly, reflecting on what Stanislav had said. You’re wrong, Stani, he said to himself. You’re wrong.

  Chapter 15

  TEMPLIN, PERMANENTLY RESTRICTED AREA, EAST GERMANY. 30 JUNE 1984.

  THE RED EFFECT −6 DAYS.

  The green three-litre Senator moved steadily down the track, its strengthened suspension coping well with the ruts and grooves that had been carved into the ground by the passage of Soviet armoured and wheeled military vehicles. The driver steered the military-mission vehicle off the track and into the widely spaced trees of the forest, picking his way through until they reached the edge and overlooked the clearing that was their ultimate destination. They were in the permanently restricted area that encompassed Templin, a Soviet training area. Regularly used by Soviet armoured units for training of tank crews and small unit exercises, it was a stopping-off point for the military-mission officers in their quest to acquire photographs of the latest Soviet kit and, if possible, get inside one of their latest main battle tanks. As a consequence of Exercise Hammer 84, the Soviets had expanded the restricted area, enforcing a temporary restricted zone that made it even more difficult for the mission crews to get in close.

  After the establishment of the four Allied zones-of-control following the fall of Germany at the end of World War Two, the exchange of military missions was introduced to effect liaison between the Western Allies and the Soviet Union. This agreement allowed members of a military mission to travel freely throughout the Soviet sector of Germany: the German Democratic Republic. Some areas were restricted on a permanent basis, with temporary restricted areas being added during large exercises or troop movements.

  The British Military-Mission (Brixmis) crew were on the last stage of their tour. They had been out for two days and were returning to their headquarters in West Berlin once they had completed this recce. They had been here before and knew that, on the other side of the forest they were now driving through, there was a clearing often used by the Soviet Army. The tour commander, Sta
ff Sergeant William Rawlings, a member of the British Army’s Intelligence Corps, indicated for the driver to slow down as they approached the edge of the forest. It was just after four in the morning, just dark enough to make a covert entry into the restricted area, but light enough that they would be able to observe any activity underway.

  The vehicle stopped, and the tour commander got out of the vehicle, taking his binoculars, camera and pocket tape recorder with him. Weaving around the tall, slender pine trees he made his way to the edge, leaning up against one of the trees at the outermost edge of the forest.

  “Jackpot!” he said to himself.

  He didn’t need the binoculars to establish that a large unit was arrayed across the wide open space in front of him. He positioned the binoculars in front of his face and scrutinised the vehicles. Something didn’t seem right. It kept niggling at him, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. The sudden coughing sound of cold engines starting made him jump, clouds of blue smoke engulfing some of the tanks. After a few minutes, some of the armoured personnel carriers started to move, getting into a position of line-of-march. They were getting ready for a road march, thought Rawlings. He heard a rustle behind him and turned to see his colleague, Sergeant Ade Duffy, approaching.

  “What have we got here then, Will?”

  “Looks like elements of a motor rifle regiment.”

  “Getting ready to move out, I’d say.”

  “I think so too. Look! Look to the right. More poking out of the trees on the far side of the clearing.”

  “Got them. Look like command vehicles poking their noses out of the trees. Elements of a division?” Suggested Duffy as he lowered his binoculars, scratching his head, brushing bits of foliage caught in his hair from the branches he had walked under.

  Rawlings zoomed in with the binos. “That’s a BTR−60 PU moving out of the trees. So, what have we got? T-62s, BTR-60s...”

  “It’s getting lighter now. I’ll nip and get the longer camera lens. Back in a tick.” Duffy made his way back to the vehicle, picked out the 400mm mirror lens, another SLR camera body and returned to the treeline. “Any change?”

  “Ade, that’s a Polish unit, I’m sure of it.”

  “Don’t be bloody daft. It’s just part of this big exercise.”

  “Take a look for yourself. Check out the uniforms.”

  Duffy put the camera strap around his neck and scrutinised the unit again with his binos, focussing in on one of the tank crew. Although the light was still not perfect, he could make out the distinctive black coveralls and the floppy black beret he knew to be the uniform of Polish tank crew.

  “Christ, you’re right! What the hell are they doing here?”

  “Look right: ammo carrier.”

  Duffy scanned right and could see an ammunition carrier alongside a T-62. “They’re loading tank rounds.”

  “Take some photos, Ade. Then we need to get out of here. Something’s not quite right about this.”

  “Aren’t they just a part of Hammer?”

  Rawlings turned to his colleague. “There are no Polish units involved in Hammer.”

  “Shit.”

  “Come on. Take some pictures and then let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 16

  CHANTICLEER. UNITED KINGDOM GOVERNMENT EMERGENCY WAR HEADQUARTERS, CORSHAM. 1 JULY 1984.

  THE RED EFFECT −5 DAYS.

  The Prime Minister pushed back her chair and walked over to the large map of the world on the wall behind her. She swept her hand across the continent of Europe and paused for a moment as it hovered over Germany, before turning back to face the seven men sitting around the long meeting table opposite her. No longer the flimsy tables pushed together as a temporary measure, but a full-sized oak table brought onto the site at her request: a fitting piece of furniture for the reduced Cabinet that was now assembled there, again, meeting in the United Kingdom Government Emergency War Headquarters at Corsham. The 240-acre complex was built over thirty-metres underground, intended to be the hub of the UK’s alternative seat of power in the event of a major worldwide conflict and, in the worst case, a nuclear exchange. Nicknamed ‘Hawthorn’ by some journalists, at a kilometre long, it was designed to accommodate the entire Cabinet Office and supporting civil servants: up to 4,000 people.

  “It seems the Russian Bear is growling again,” said Lawrence Holmes, the Swansea-born politician, as he brushed back his well-coiffured hair. “Things are taking a worrying turn, Prime Minister. The Russian Exercise Hammer 84 seems to be growing out of all proportion.”

  “More reports, Lawrence?”

  “Yes,” responded the Secretary of State for Defence. “One of our military liaison missions has reported Polish troops active in one of the restricted areas in East Germany.”

  “Polish troops in the GDR?!”

  “Yes, Prime Minister.”

  “They are certain it was Polish troops they saw?”

  “Yes. They are experienced operators.”

  “I assume they extracted themselves safely?”

  “Yes, Prime Minister, but we have noted an upsurge in surveillance, and the authorities, both Russian and East German, are becoming more aggressive towards the missions we have over there.”

  Holmes looked across at Thomas Fletcher, the Chief of Defence Staff (the CDS). Fletcher was the professional head of the British armed forces and the most senior uniformed military adviser to the Government. “General Fletcher, you have some more intelligence for us?”

  “Yes, Secretary, Prime Minister. First the shooting of the American military liaison mission officer.”

  “A Major Mortimer, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, Prime Minister,” responded the CDS, not surprised that Harriet Willis would know the man’s name.

  “We must send our condolences, Lawrence.”

  “I’ve seen to it, Prime Minister. Continue, General.”

  “We believe that he was attempting to photograph a tank storage shed and its contents near Ludwigslust.”

  “And where is that, General?” the PM queried.

  “About one-hundred-and-twenty kilometres north-west of Berlin. He was shot by a Soviet sentry.”

  Holmes turned towards the PM. “The level of military activity being experienced by ours and the American missions in East Germany is exceptionally high. The CGS has further updates for us. General Hamilton, if you please.”

  The Chief of the General Staff pulled a sheet of paper closer to him, scanned it then looked back up. “The report from our liaison mission regarding the Polish unit is most disturbing. To see a Polish unit training in a Soviet exercise area is not unusual in itself. But for a full Polish division to be seen in East Germany at the same time as a large Soviet exercise is in full swing is unheard of. The unit in question, we believe to be the 12th Polish Motor Rifle Division, was observed in the Templin training area. It was seen loading live ammunition and preparing for a road march.”

  “And the significance of that, General?”

  “Exercise Hammer 84 is primarily a Soviet exercise, Prime Minister, and we have not been advised, per protocol, that Warsaw Pact countries were involved.”

  “Could it just be a training exercise?” Asked Jeremy Chapman, the Home Secretary. “Are the Poles just taking the opportunity to use a vacated training site?”

  “That is possible, Home Secretary, but I do have other sightings that make that option unlikely.”

  “Let him continue, Jeremy, and all will become clear.”

  The Home Secretary nodded, and the CGS continued. He picked up a report. “Brixmis have photographed TELs, Transporter, Erector, Launcher vehicles, travelling by rail in the vicinity of Finowurt. They’re not certain of the type, but they could only be Scud, Scarab or Scaleboard.”

  “Nuclear capable?”

  “Yes, Prime Minister,” answered General Fletcher. “But can also carry high-explosive and chemical warheads.”

  The CDS continued again. “One of our human intelligence source
s, codename Sparrow, has identified the movement of elements of a tank division in the area of Kuskin in Poland. The tanks seen were T-64As, and their turret numbers identified them as belonging to the Soviet 20th Tank Division. This division is part of the Northern Group of Soviet Forces. They were seen having their turret numbers painted out, and were moving tactically and assembling along the Polish and East German Border. Another Humint source, Magpie, identified T-80 tanks, turret numbers again painted out, in the area of Kirchmoser, fifteen kilometres west of Brandenburg. The tanks were all laden down with additional material, indicative of an anticipated road march. Brixmis have seen a large number of tanks, probably belonging to 10th Guards Tank Division of 3 Shock Army. They were spotted close to Haldensleben, north-west of Magdeburg. The tour was detained for four hours and then escorted back to Potsdam. They eventually returned to their headquarters in Berlin, shaken, but unharmed. All their equipment was confiscated.”

  “Did we lose the photographs then?” asked the Foreign Secretary.

  “Fortunately, no. They were able to replace the used film in the camera with a fresh one. Then the exposed roll was stuffed down one of the operator’s underwear, and they managed to get it back to Berlin.”

  “What do they show?” asked Air Marshall Walker.

  “The pictures confirm they were T-80s, the Soviet’s most powerful main battle tank. They have also reported increased activity around the Letzlinger-Heide PRA. That’s pretty close to the Inner German Border. The Berlin section is also reporting increased rail traffic, and a tank upgrade for the Soviet local units. What is becoming apparent though is that the Soviets and East Germans are becoming increasingly aggressive towards our and our allies’ military missions operating in the East. An operator from the Berlin Section was attacked two months ago; three of our people have been detained and escorted out of East Germany; and the Americans have had one of their own killed. I have more reports if you want me to continue, Prime Minister, Secretary?”