by Andy Farman
Unaware that his jaw was hanging open in amazement Franklin’s instinct for self-preservation did kick in as he detected the sound of an approaching freight train. The open ground to the west lit up with strobe-like flashes as 155mm shells airburst over the Romanian infantry, but Franklin did not see it, he was doing his very best to stay flat against the muddy surface.
Tank guns were firing in the night but no one was firing on the position anymore. The strange tank halted and a hatch opened.
“Buona sera, Tenente...the cavalry, it has arrived!” declared Lt Col Lorenzo Rapagnetta with a grin and a flourish.
TP 32, MSR ‘NUT’ (Up), Autobahn’s 2 & 391, north of Brunswick, Germany:
South of the autobahns traffic point the D Company Headquarters of 1 Wessex were quartered in the premises of a large and well known furniture department. Not for them the crib of mud, folding stretcher or camp bed of green canvas that had shrunk and defied reassembly. Each man and woman of company HQ reposed upon eco-friendly renewable pine, and beneath duvets of sustainable cotton.
It was not all beer and skittles though, they were again feeding from Compo rations and boil-in-the-bag Meals Rarely Edible as their appetites’ for Swedish meatballs with lingonberry jam had been tested to destruction.
1 Wessex had joined 3(UK) Mechanised Brigade after the NATO armies hurried withdrawal from north of Berlin to south of the Elbe and Saale Rivers, following the invasion of Poland.
The part-time soldiers from Bournemouth and Poole in Dorsetshire had stepped from peaceful civilian life into a maelstrom at Magdeburg, but they had held until relieved even though D Company could no longer pass muster.
D Company was detached from the battalion and now had the task of securing the bridge and autobahn junction while replacements from the UK brought them back up to strength. They were not there yet and the battle for the Vormundberg was reaching critical mass. At dawn the company was to begin preparing defensive positions west of the Mitterland Canal for the US 4 Corps and ‘unspecified elements currently defending the Vormundberg’, the company commander was stating during his O Group’s ‘Execution: General Outline’ section.
The company signals rep pressed him on that vague point.
“Sir, if I know which units are going where I can save us a lot of confusion later.” the Signals Platoon corporal waited with pencil poised.
“Whoever makes it out.” stated the company’s permanent staff instructor, unbidden from his seat at the back.
At the conclusion of the O Group the platoon commanders of 13, 14 and 15 platoons had gone into a huddle about the map board and their platoon sergeants had descended upon the CQMS, attempting to extract kit. It was always the way.
‘Radar’, the company clerk, entered the room with the report of gunfire and explosions north of the town. Jamming was preventing the company sergeant major from contacting any of the platoons or the Dutch tank troop in the next town to the south, along the autobahn 391. He had sent runners instead. That broke up the huddle and the scrum for replacement equipment, the platoon command elements hurrying away to rejoin their men and the company commander stepping outside to listen.
Despite the rain they all of them paused on the large and empty car park listening to machine gun fire and the crack of tank guns, and then there came the unmistakeable sound of armoured vehicles on the northbound off ramp of autobahn 391.
“They made good time!” the OC remarked as the first dark silhouettes of tanks came into view.
All three tanks opened fire with their machine guns before turning their attention to the company’s soft skinned vehicles parked along the store wall beneath camouflage nets, and once they were wrecked it was the building itself that received their main guns attentions.
Sweden’s flagship furniture outlet for Lower Saxony was in flames, the company and platoon command elements for D Company, 1 Wessex were all dead and the battle was only ten minutes old.
The runners did indeed make good time in reaching Wolfenbüttel to the south, and had they been despatched twenty seconds later they would have met a troop of enemy tanks joining the 391 from Bieinrode Strasse.
Wolfenbüttel was largely abandoned but far from in darkness. A Romanian 91st Tank Regiment’s troop of T-90s had arrived before the 1 Wessex runners and surprised the Dutch troops, destroying two unmanned Leopard 2s where they sat in berms upon the town centres small park.
The Dutchmen fought back, the third Leopard knocking out one T-90 before itself being destroyed, and a second Soviet tank engaged in that particular fight was lost when it attempted to drive through a glass fronted bar and outflank the Leopard. The floor had given way, trapping it quite thoroughly in the beer cellar where surviving Dutch tankers finished off the trapped tank and crew with two jerry cans of petrol and a WP grenade. The fire spread to the neighbouring shops, and so there was quite a bit of light.
TP 32, MSR ‘NUT’ (Up), Autobahn’s 2 & 391, north of Brunswick, Germany:
On the autobahn the appearance of the enemy armour so soon after the solo action of L/Cpl Green, RMP, destroying a Landrover, coupled with the jamming of the radio net was seen as a possible indication that the Vormundberg had fallen, but there was no time for a debate.
13 Platoon left one of its two-man AT teams in their trench to the west but had the other engage targets of opportunity to the north, on the airfield side.
14 Platoon’s southern pair on the bottom of Autobahn 391’s fly-over was ordered to pick up their kit and double away up the incline to find a point where they could engage tanks on the airfield. They duly did so, arriving panting and out of breath above Autobahn 2’s westbound carriageway. The other 14 Platoon AT team had just fired a round at a charging T-90 on the Braunschweig airfield and missed by a wide margin. The crippled tank was beyond extreme range, although stationary, and having seen the light anti-tank rocket fired from the autobahn overpass the team became its next target. A main gun round screamed low over the guardrail and green tracer from its coaxial 12.7mm machinegun began to work the firing point over. It was an uneven contest and discretion being the better part of valour they backed off back to their previous covering position.
The helicopters had all been reduced to burning wrecks, the fuel bowser had blown up and the Soviet tanks were systematically destroying stacked pallets of ammunition and stores that had cost so much in effort and lives to transport across the Atlantic.
No sooner had the relocated team arrived when it became obvious that there were tanks in the town too. Machinegun and main tank gun fire was apparent from the direction of company headquarters so they picked up their half dozen LAW-80 weapons, and ran back the way they had come.
Coordination was absent at first, as were the platoon commanders and sergeants. However the army seeks to make everyone familiar with the process of leadership up to at least two command levels above their own.
Newly promoted to the rank of ‘Full Screw’, Corporal Baz Cotter of 3 Section, 15 Platoon, was blissfully unaware he was now the acting company commander of D Company, 1 Wessex. What Baz was aware of though was that the radios were not working due to jamming, Russian special forces had probably had a pop at taking the bridge and a ‘Monkey’, of all people, had handed them their arse. Now of course there was machine gun and tank fire with accompanying explosions from both the north and south.
A runner from 1 Section, along the canal tow path on the northern side of Autobahn 2, had arrived, his chinstrap for his helmet undone and hanging free. It was something many of the veterans of the Elbe were doing to distinguish themselves from the replacements from the UK. Baz was doing it too even though in hindsight it did seem a little childish. The runner informed him that there were enemy tanks on the airfield and the sapper’s section commander from 25 Regiment RE was preparing to blow the autobahn bridge. This titbit earned him a ‘it’s-news-to-me’ gesture to his questioning glance at the sappers sharing his GPMG gun pit. The two with him had wired up the pair of old narrow bridges that had once carrie
d rail tracks, and 15 Platoon’s commander had the responsibility of ordering their destruction, but the decision to blow the autobahn bridge was solely for the OC of D Company to make.
“Has he got comms with Sunray 4?” Baz asked, using the OC’s generic callsign.
“Nope.”
“Well remind him of four things; that firstly it’s not his call to make, secondly that as 4 Corps needs to cross here he may be doing the Reds a favour, and both thirdly and fourthly it’s not his call to make, so hang fire on that!”
The runner started away but a thought occurred to Baz.
“Any infantry, or any sign of IFVs?”
“No Corp’, just three tanks.”
“How do they expect to take and hold a bridge with just tanks?”
They both ducked instinctively as a tank’s main gun fired somewhere away to the south.
“Maybe they don’t think they need infantry, given as they seem to suddenly have a shit-load of tanks right on our doorstep, Corporal?” The runner then departed at a sprint back along the tow path, one hand on top of his helmet, holding it in place.
He had a point, Baz thought.
“Corporal Cotter!” a voice hailed from up on the 391’s elevated section, and Baz saw the speaker was one of the section commanders from 14 Platoon.”
“What?” he shouted back.
“Company headquarters is on fire” the lance corporal shouted.
Well that about proves it, thought Baz, I'm dreaming that I am back at Brecon and if I just pinch myself this worst case scenario exercise will simply vanish.
“We can see the flames from here but we can’t see any of our lot making their way back from the O Group.”
That gave Baz sudden pause for thought. He had been expecting the boss and Terry, the platoon sergeant, to come haring back at any moment. What if the sergeants and platoon commanders were cut off with company headquarters somewhere? Should he send a patrol out to find them?
With that last thought he realised he was the company’s senior section commander and senior rank present so therefore should act like it, at least until they got back.
The sections were only six strong and two of those were on average just green and unbloodied replacements. On-the-job training was taking place with the four old sweats teaching the new guys the tricks of the trade. In many cases the result of this included a wish by those replacements that firstly, someone would whizz the odd angry shot in their general direction if it meant a cessation of reminders that they had not been ‘On the Elbe’, and secondly that another draft would hurry up and arrive so someone else would have to make the tea all the time.
Ariete Task Force
The first good luck then occurred a few miles east as an eight wheel BTR-60 festooned with antennae received a direct hit courtesy of the Italian recce troop calling in fire on IFVs beating a retreat from the battle at TP33. The vehicle, a dozen radios, a CD player and a compilation disc of American rap music were obliterated.
Thanks also to their recce troops the tank heavy attack to the south of TP33 and the hill fort was identified as the main threat and Lt Col Lorenzo Rapagnetta brought all but his own ‘borrowed’ machine around and into their rear undetected. Three BMPs and a BTR from the attackers to the north dashed in to collect their dismounted infantry and bug out. The Americans 11 tank collected a BMP just before it could disappear back into the forest and the Italian recce troop were the architects of the jamming vehicles demise along with a second BMP, with a little help from the gunners of the 155mm SP battery of course.
Baz was getting his head around the idea that his tactical thinking needed to expand to encompass nine infantry sections instead of just the one when he was hailed again by the same voice from the top of 391.
“Corporal Cotter!”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out” he yelled back.
“There’s good news and there’s bad news…the good news is that the radios are back up…the bad news is you’ve got three fuckoffbastardgreatbigtanks heading your way. Two on the tow path and one on this road!” he pointed at the street running parallel to 391.
The LAW 80 teams were all part of the various tiny platoon headquarters but the weapons themselves did not require a rocket scientist’s degree to operate it, but you had to remember that it had been designed by a left-handed rocket scientist. Operators had to work by touch as unlike the 84mm Carl Gustav it had replaced, LAW 80’s selector and safety catch were on the right side of the launch tube. Although larger than both the 66mm and 84mm weapons it had replaced, it still often required several hits to secure a kill on a modern main battle tank.
13 and 14 Platoon already had LAW 80s on the north of the junction so after switching his radio back on he summoned both 15 Platoon teams on the hurry-up. The other platoons now had the task of defending the tow path to the north from tanks.
He sent one pair over the narrow road bridges with instructions to head south and find a suitable spot to have a go at the towpath tanks thinner side armour. The other team he set on the corner by a small light industrial unit to cover the road.
He tried and failed to reach company headquarters or any of the platoon commanders and so informed the other section commanders that he was taking command and they were to remain covering their assigned arcs.
“Blakie!” he shouted to his 2 i/c. Private Steve McAlwy was a bus inspector in Poole, Dorset, which earned him the nickname, whether he liked it or not, of a TV sitcom character.
“You are now section commander of 3 Section.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“Oh, okay.”
“But I’m stopping here for now.”
The two sappers were peering along the tow path into the pitch dark as the sound of tanks could now be heard approaching.
“We need to drop these little road bridges now, I reckon.” Baz informed them. “Before it gets dicey around here.”
“You mean it’s not dicey now?”
They had a quick conversation with their own section commander before giving Baz the nod to warn the rest of the company.
The first explosion was something of an anti-climax when it happened; the cordex they had used was designed to cut through steel. It looked just like his Mum’s washing line, a plastic covering protecting the powerful explosive within and Baz had watched with interest a few days before when they had wrapped it around the width of steel frame half way across, hanging under the bridge as they worked methodically . A dozen turns around each of the sixteen girders before the electrical firing cable had been laid.
“Is that it?” he had enquired at the time as they’d clambered back over the guardrail. “They had more in ‘The Bridge at Remagen’.”
“Well that was Hollywood wasn’t it” had been the reply. “And this ain’t the Bridge at Remagen, it’s just a half clapped out bit of ironmongery held up by paint and weight restrictions.”
Baz had looked doubtful.
“Seen any local civvies using it before they all buggered off?” the sapper had asked.
He thought about it and shook his head.
“Well there you go then.” The combat engineer had replied. “If we need to blow ‘em, the bridges own weight will do half the job.”
A flash, a very loud bang, and lots of black smoke now accompanied the firing of the charges on the first of the single carriageway bridges. With the steel frame cut only the tarmac road bed was holding it up, but it was still standing.
“Trust me” the sapper said defensively. “A fat housefräu and her shopping trolley strolling across will have that lot down in no time.” Obviously there was a dearth of Fräus, fat or otherwise.
The second bridge did indeed give up the ghost straight away. The integrity of the structure relied upon the spans and with them cut in the middle the two severed ends dropped into the canal with a great rendering of screeching, buckling metal on either bank.
The reverberations of the second demolition charge were followed by a gunsho
t along the canals far bank as the light anti-tank team opened fire with the LAW 80’s built-in spotter rifle. It only had a magazine of five 9mm tracer rounds but what they had learned on the Elbe at Magdeburg was that the chances of getting a penetrating hit on a Soviet tank clad in blocks of ERA, the explosive reactive armour, was to find a spot that had already been hit and its armour plate exposed.
ERA cannot be cleared away with small arms fire and even if a blocks metal guard is pierced it still will not blow. Even shrapnel hits from artillery near-misses will not trigger them. Occasionally some unwise soul will have a go, and usually die trying.
Everyone listened as the spotting rifle fired a second time and the 94mm rocket followed it a heartbeat later. It hit and detonated, but two tanks, not one, opened up on the firing point with their heavy coaxial machine guns and main guns. The tanks kept coming, the round had been ineffectual.
Baz was distracted by an exploding tank round just under the autobahn bridge at 1 Section’s positions and heavy calibre machine gun fire was chewing up the towpaths concrete surface, green tracer rounds ricocheting away wildly.
Both the 14 Platoon team on the 391 elevated sections and 15 Platoon’s other team opened fire on the single tank on the road. Neither team bothered with spotting rounds but given the furious preparation of a second LAW80 by his team on the corner they had failed to kill it.
He was staring at them as the gunner hoisted it onto his shoulder, took aim again, and vanished in a welter of smoke and flying, shattered brickwork.
The tank round had collapsed that corner of the building and only two unmoving bodies could be seen protruding from the rubble.
Shouts from beyond the autobahn bridge and the roar of a tank engine from that direction told Baz that 1 Section was being overrun. For whatever reason, 13 and 14 Platoon’s anti- tankers had not been able to engage to the north. He berated himself for pulling the team from 1 Section and they were dead now too, the only anti-tank weapons 15 Platoon had were lying beside the wall just beyond the dead team. The unseen tanks main gun fired again, striking the elevated section from where that anti-tank round had been fired from.