' The Longest Night ' & ' Crossing the Rubicon ': The Original Map Illustrated and Uncut Final Volume (Armageddon's Song)

by Andy Farman

  A change in orders, a complete change of load-out, and all direct from the High Command apparently. It had delayed the take-off before bombing-up could commence. They were now late as a result and had to burn precious fuel in an attempt to make up the time.

  They came from the north east, with the wind behind them, and the approach of both regiments divided up the defender’s assets although one of the regiments had the Vormundberg as its secondary, not primary target.

  Flares and chaff were discharged by the lead squadrons which dived towards the earth to evade without pressing home with their ordnance loads.

  AAA has a habit of frequently relocating, as that is the surest means of their survival, and none of the firing points matched those of the previous day’s attacks.

  The foremost flights of the second regiment were engaged upon dedicated ‘Wild Weasel’, AAA suppression. Having now identified anti- aircraft units all along the Vormundberg they began launching anti-radar missiles, and looking for target’s for cluster bomb munitions.

  French, Dutch, British and US units south of the hamlet of Vormund were the focus of the air effort, and weapons flew both ways between the attackers and the defenders, long and medium range missiles passing each other in the sky.

  Steve Veneer waited for a green light to appear in his sights and fired immediately, the Stinger launched with its accompanying smoke and audible signature, flying true, and straight into a Frogfoot’s port side engine intake.

  Neither Steve nor Andy Troper saw the aircraft hit, they were back below ground inside the shelter bay.

  The pilot ejected, leaving the aircraft as it became a fireball and lost consciousness in the blast, falling to earth with his burning parachute trailing behind.

  Unnoticed almost, twenty aircraft performed pop-up manoeuvres, tossing half of their ordnance in the direction of the long hill. The weapons did not fall all the way; altimeter fuses triggered them at five hundred feet above ground.

  The flashes of the air bursting bombs were eclipsed by falling artillery shells and mortar rounds. Two attackers fell to the air defences and a third aircraft limped home, trailing smoke.

  British chemists at ICI in 1952 had discovered a new organophosphate and it was initially marketed two years later as a pesticide under the trade name of Amiton. Obviously ICI were unaware of the full extent of the chemicals effects upon the human nervous system at that time. Inhalation and contact with the skin was extremely hazardous to health as even a 10mg drop on exposed skin would be quickly absorbed by the body. Muscular twitching, running nose, vomiting and a tightening of the chest soon followed before paralysis of the diaphragm muscles caused death by asphyxia. Too toxic for safe use, Amiton was withdrawn from the market but the genie was out of the bottle now. The Ministry of Defence began research on Amiton at its chemical weapons research facility at Porton Down. Once weaponised, Amiton was renamed ‘VX’ and assigned the code name Purple Possum to keep its existence hidden from the rest of the world.

  But nothing remains a secret for long.

  NAIAD, an easier acronym to say in a hurry than Nerve Agent Immobilised enzyme Alarm and Detector, began to sound as the warheads contents, now falling in aerosol form, triggered the alarms. But for the rain the VX would have been carried upon the wind for the entire length of the Vormundberg.

  NAIAD, and its equivalent’s in other NATO units screeched, one-colour chemical detector paper turned blue, Stef and Bill’s M8 paper turned yellow. Only the persistent, lingering nerve agents of the ‘V’ family of poison weapons caused the paper to do that.

  The air raid was over as quickly as it had begun, three multi-million ruble aircraft had become fiercely burning wreckage scattered over the German countryside, an elderly Chaparral had been struck by an anti-radiation missile, and Rapier launcher fell to cluster munitions whilst artillery spotters called in the fires on the sites of three shoulder fired launches.

  The sniping pair passed on a brief Chem-Rep to the battalion CP and got back to the task of observing and reporting, awaiting the battalions coordinated response.

  It was not long in coming.

  “Sir, Company Sarn’t Major Hornsby is asking for permission fire. He has a stack of fire missions for his mort…”

  Pat Reed cut the signaller off in mid-sentence.

  “When CSM Hornsby was Lance Sarn’t Hornsby he knew what a TOT shoot was.” The commanding officer snapped. “Tell him to do as he was damn well briefed to do or he’ll be a full screw once more!”

  Those who heard the exchange paused to glance at one another at the out of character show of temper.

  “Ask Stephanski and Gaddom how far they are from the sunken lane?” Pat demanded, leaning forwards with both sets of knuckles, clad in rubber NBC gloves, bearing his weight on the map table.

  The artillery rep had heard the snipers reporting infantry unprotected by their fighting vehicles and addressed the CO.

  “Sir, with regard to the infantry now being in the open, perhaps we should amend the fire plan to include airburst instead of super-quick fusing?”

  “The fusing is fine as is.” Pat responded, without looking up.

  “But sir….”

  “You let me worry about fighting this battle young Captain, and you concern yourself with making sure your gunners hit what we tell them, understood?”

  Having been put firmly in his place, the artilleryman was turning to return to the RA’s corner of the CP when Pat spoke again.

  “The lead battalion of tanks is of more concern to me right now but the mortars are wasted on heavy armour so switch them to the second echelon .”

  Final Assault 1

  “Yes sir.” He turned to go again.

  “Oh and Captain.”

  “Sir?”

  “Mix WP with the mortar fire mission.” Pat instructed.

  The artillery rep was well aware that the rules of war forbade the use of white phosphorus as a weapon against infantry, but they forbade the use of VX also, did they not?

  “Yes Colonel, right away.”

  Bill watched the battalion of armour come on, untroubled by so much as a stray round, despite the slower than normal speed.

  They had killed a lot of this regiment the previous day, but now they were back, reinforced with armour if not troops. Instead of three infantry battalions and one tank battalion, 23rd now consisted of two infantry and two tank battalions, albeit it all were below strength they still outnumbered the battalion of British Guards and US Paratroopers who they considered the weak link.

  “

  Fifty seven armoured vehicles, AAA tracks, self-propelled anti-tank guided weapons launchers and of course main battle tanks along with its remaining infantry. The 23rd Motor Rifle Regiment was driving towards less than five hundred guardsmen, paratroopers and a half dozen tanks.

  They had been 1CG’s first opponents in this war, months previously, on the hill above the Wesernitz river.

  Barely more than a hundred guardsmen who had been on that particular hillside remained with the battalion now. Half of the original battalion had died on the Wesernitz in that first battle. Lt Col Huppert-Lowe, the then CO, and his rover group had perished in the flames of napalm hell as he attempted to restore command and control with 1 Company. The battalion CP had been destroyed soon afterwards by a random, lone 240mm mortar round. All communications and coordination had been lost and just two rifle companies, with part of Support Company, had fought their way out. The remainder, both the prisoners and wounded, the 23rd had bayoneted or shot.

  Certain elements of the media, none of whom had been present, had shamelessly capitalised on the battle in order to sell copies. A photograph of the battalion on ceremonial duties, the red plumes in their bearskins photo-shopped into yellow, had adorned the front page below the headline ‘They Ran!’ The stain on their honour had remained with them, bolstered of late by the Defence Minister as it suited the needs of her own agenda.

  Few survivors of the Wesernitz were watching now, the
remainder huddled in their water-logged shelter bays as their positions were pummelled by artillery and mortar fire.

  The Soviet artillery west of the Elbe had received only a limited resupply via helicopter, a trickle in comparison to their needs and it had been husbanded on the orders of General Borodovsky, the Front Commander. It was stockpiled in case 77th Tank and 32nd MRD could not reopen the logistical supply lines before the US and Canadians of 4 Corps arrived. But in the last hour had come word that Borodovsky had been replaced, as had all the leadership at High Command apparently. Every effort must now be made to overturn this final obstacle NATO had placed in their path, and drive to the coast. 4 Corps could be brushed aside before it could transition into a defensive posture. Success, not excuses, was all that the High Command wanted. Everyone was expendable.

  Within the lane the remains of that first attack had new additions lying on top and here and there it was possible to use the burnt out fighting machines as a bridge, otherwise the armour had to negotiate the lanes steep sides.

  “That’s fifty metres, as near as dammit.” Bill observed.

  “Wait until they crowd up.” Stef grunted, his voice muffled by the respirator.

  The previous day had seen carnage along this section of the lane during the very first attack by the Red Army upon the Vormundberg hillside. Pat Reed had called in smoke, not HE, blinding the lead ranks which had driven full pelt through the hedgerow bordering the sunken lane. No anti-tank ditch could have worked so well.

  The tanks now slowed.

  British Army Air Corps Apache attack helicopters and Danish Lynx singled out the Zeus and Gaskin anti-aircraft vehicles for attention.

  Pat Reed listened to Lance Sergeant Stephanski confirm the lead tank battalion was bunching up before the sunken lane.

  He gave the order to open fire himself, raising the microphone.

  “All stations address group Hotel Zulu…start killing those bastards.”

  The 105s fired first, followed by the battalion’s mortars. The Milan, TOW and Hellfire missiles came next, and finally the 120mm rifled L11A5 and L30 guns of the Challengers and Chieftain 10s.

  In the ideal Timed on Target world, each shell, each missile, each round would arrive at once, but it was close enough that they arrived within a two second time span.

  Mark Venables had the commander’s tank of the left hand company dead to rights and the Challenger II rocked backwards on its sprockets when he fired. It was a killing hit and he released his override, allowing his gunner to fight the tank whilst he fought what remained of his squadron.

  The 105s had sowed confusion as well as knocking out one T-72 and shearing the tracks of two others. Milan rounds had killed two more, as had his own squadron’s tank guns. Zeus and Gaskin vehicles burned. It was a good start but the friendly artillery had fallen silent as the gunners relocated hurriedly.

  Further to the rear the shrapnel from bursting mortar rounds had swept a couple of tanks clear of their passengers and others had leapt off, rolling in the mud in an attempt extinguish the white phosphorus that had fallen upon them. In the darkness and poor visibility a few tanks ran over contorting figures in their path.

  Looking right he located the second command tank, it was stopped with smoke issuing from its open hatches, the crew bailing out. He looked again, seeing that not quite all the crew had abandoned the vehicle. The company commander was knelt at his open hatch and operating a fire extinguisher on the smouldering bags of propellant inside. He seemed to be making headway as the smoke was lessening. Without warning he collapsed, like a puppet with its strings cut he toppled headlong through the open hatch. The battalion’s snipers were busy about their deadly trade, and earning their rations.

  The third command tank was stationary and burning fiercely despite the rain.

  The Challenger fired again, targeting a T-90 cautiously moving across the dead hulks of previous attackers, it stopped dead, denying crossing point to the others in line behind it.

  Having fired twice from the same location Venables driver reversed the vehicle out of the fighting position and headed for a fresh spot.

  The first Soviet tanks dropped from view and reappeared on the NATO side of the sunken lane, targeting Milan firing points and the Hussars Chieftains and Challengers, attempting to suppress the defenders fire until the obstacle was negotiated. A TOW fired by a Lynx of Eskadrille 723 destroyed one of these guardians but it been forced to remain hovering until the wire guided weapon struck. A Refleks missile sped across the intervening space, launched from a T-80’s main gun it struck the Lynx before it could withdraw from view and the helicopter exploded.

  Bill used the TOT shoot for cover, the noise masking the sound of the shot as he killed the commander of the Soviet troops in the captured trenches. He and Stef then edged away, moving back into more friendly territory.

  Despite the success so far, it was not going to be enough to prevent the bulk of the 23rd from reaching the hill. Close quarters combat was not something within the snipers remit and so they withdrew to higher ground.

  Above them droned Soviet counter battery fire, the heavy mortars targeting the ground the Guards and 82nd’s fire had been backtracked to, and the artillery shells falling in the valley behind the Vormundberg.

  The Soviet fire had not slackened, it merely switched from pounding the once wooded slopes in order to fire counter battery missions before shifting back, a fact noted with relish by Major General Dave Hesher. MLRS sub munitions trashed five entire batteries of the 23rd’s artillery support.

  “Air Red!...Air Red!...Air Red!...” was again broadcast.

  Several minutes later NAIADs on the rear slopes screeched anew as SU-25s tossed more air bursting ordnance at the hill’s defenders on their way back from doing the same to 4 Corps. They did not press home an attack with conventional weapons but dived to the tree tops and headed east, throwing out flares and chaff in their wake.

  By the time the 105mm guns of 40 Regiment RA fired again the last tanks of the lead Soviet battalion where clear of the sunken lane.

  Firing two rounds apiece the guns were departing for a new gun line before the Soviet gunners could respond. The first battery’s rounds landed harmlessly to the rear of the tanks but the second battery landed among the centre company, disabling one and destroying another.

  The Hussars fired and moved, fired again and reversed quickly. The Milans of the Anti-Tank platoon lost a precious crew, killed three more Soviet MBTs in revenge, but the tanks of 23rd MRR still came on.

  So involved became that fight with the leading echelon that the movements of the second echelon were only noticed late.

  They had accelerated, carrying those infantry upon the tanks hulls rapidly to the foot of the hill. Half were closing up behind the first echelon, but the remainder of the second echelon’s infantry borne on tanks were almost at the juncture of where the Guards left flank met the 2nd Battalion Light Infantry’s right.

  Pat had fully expected the 23rd’s first battalion sized effort to attack in this fashion yesterday, seeking weaknesses in the flanks, but they had defeated it, utterly, before it reached half way across the valley. It would now seem that someone over there thought it too good a plan to waste.

  Pat had been wrong footed by expecting the 23rd to exert its entire, remaining fighting power where they already had a toehold. The paratroopers of the 82nd were about to pay the price for that lapse.

  In front of 3 Company’s positions the Soviet tanks were being picked off according to a pre-arranged plan using the Apache, Lynx and Hussars. But the old adage was holding true ‘No plan survives first contact with the enemy’.

  “Warn 4 Company….”

  “Too late sir, they are in close contact already!” the Ops Officer had the landline handset to 4 Company CP in his hand, the roar of small arms and detonation of grenades clearly audible from across the table.

  They drove clear across 16 Platoon’s trenches, machine guns blazing and the infantry on the decks firin
g downwards into the positions. They lost an elderly T-60 plough tank and a T-90 to multiple strikes from the shoulder launched LAW-80s but continue on. The remaining tanks slowed to allow the infantry to debus in the centre of 14 Platoon, the company’s in-depth position. It was a good tactic as it initially inhibited the fire from 15 and 16 Platoons.

  Fierce hand to hand fighting raged within 14 Platoon’s lines but the enemy were not there by pure chance and those not involved in the trench fighting moved on up the hill with a company moving into the stream bed that marked the boundary between 1CG and 2LI’s turf.

  Behind 14 Platoon at the company CP, Lance Sergeant Gibbons, the Signals Platoon rep for 4 Company and the only Coldstreamer, fired at a Czech rifleman crowding through the entrance. The shot smashed the visor of the soldier’s respirator and exited through the back of the head, sending his helmet spinning away. A grenade from outside followed moments later, hitting the sandbagged side of the doorway before landing upon the wooden pallets that lined the floor. The company’s first sergeant, Jerry Anthony, flung himself on top of the grenade, smothering it with his body and dying instantly but more grenades were tossed through the doorway and their detonations were followed by automatic fire.

  Despite his wounds, bleeding from ruptured eardrums and coughing up frothy blood, Captain O’Regan, the OC of 4 Company, recovered consciousness and spoke into the handset he had been using when the grenades had gone off. His NBC suit was torn and he had lost his respirator in the grenade blasts. VX in the air began to take effect and his voice, coupled with violent muscle spasms, caught the attention of a trio of infantrymen from the 23rd who were looting the dead, tossing wallets and watches into a bag of decontaminating Fullers Earth. They crowded about the injured American, their bayonets rising and falling repeatedly.

  Lightning flashed overhead, immediately followed by thunder. This was Mother Nature’s doing, not mans, and the rain redoubled in intensity as if making up for the enemy shell and mortar fire that had abruptly lifted, falling elsewhere to inhibit reinforcement.