Grand Alliance (Kirov Series)

by John Schettler

  The artillery was the opening round of the battle, and only the first of many shocking surprises for the Germans that day. Kummel was restless, his head and shoulders jutting up from the open top hatch, his eyes squinting through a pair of field glasses as he watched the incoming fire.

  “Come on, Kruschinski, we had better get moving before that artillery finds us too!”

  His company was behind and to the left of the 8th MG Battalion from 5th Light Division, and he gave the order for his 18 Panzer IIIGs to move out. He would be the unseen counterattack emerging from the gloaming of the rising sun to the east, staying on low ground so as not to be silhouetted. If the British attacked true to form, they would send in their tanks first, followed later by infantry in small carriers from their support battalions. These were the prey he had his mind set on, and if he swung deep enough, he might also find this enemy artillery as well. He knew where it might be, given the typical range of a British 25 pounder, but could not know that he was very wrong about that guess. Kruschinski kicked the tank forward, and Kummel radioed his company to follow.

  * * *

  Lieutenant William Bowers watched the artillery fire come in to silence the hilltop battery and then engage suspected gun positions on his left. His Sabre had the wadi limited approach that led right up to that hill, a narrow channel that the enemy obviously thought was well protected from direct attack by armor. He radioed back and told the Mercian Battalion to hold in place, but to be ready with infantry on his call. Then he gave the order to move out.

  The tanks broke column and spread out in lines, three abreast, five lines deep. Behind them a company of the Mercian infantry in their Warrior IFVs waited on call. The next three rounds to come in were smoke, giving his force a thin mask to make their approach, an advantage he hadn’t called for and really did not need. It had been designed to frustrate the optics and thermals of enemy T-72s, but that beast was not their enemy today—not if Lieutenant Reeves had his head screwed on right that morning. Instead Bowers would end up facing the best guns the German army had for killing tanks, bar none, the weapon that would make a legend for itself here in this very desert, the dual purpose 88.

  As Bowers advanced, his gunner had not seen a smaller gun position at the base of the hill and off to the right. It was there that Streich had placed a Pak 50 and two smaller 37mm AT guns in defilade within the wadi. The guns were below the ground level the tanks were using, and therefore not seen on the thermal imaging system until the crews suddenly pushed them forward to the edge of the wadi and began firing. The first indication Bowers had of their presence was a small clink against his frontal armor—a sound that was much more than an errant stone kicked up by the grinding tank tracks.

  “I think we just took a small caliber round,” he said, though the tank showed no signs of any damage. “Gunner, track left.”

  The big turret, nearly the length of the entire tank, rotated fifteen degrees left and saw the guns. Another muzzle flash marked the position, soon followed by a dull clink as yet another round struck the tank. “Target marked!”

  “Shoot!”

  The HESH L31 was the first round to be fired by the Royal Scotts Dragoons. It was a thin cased shell with plastic explosives inside that splayed out on the target and were ignited milliseconds later. Useful against fortifications, the man who had first developed the idea, the British engineer Charles Dennistoun Burney, was probably working on the project even now, along with other ideas he spawned for gliding torpedoes and bombs, and recoilless rifles that came to be known as “Burney Guns.” He might be gratified to know the terrible form and shape his ideas would take in the 21st Century, and to learn his HESH round had struck the first real blow by ground forces in the battle that was now beginning. The Pak 50 was immolated, the shrapnel from the explosion also taking out the gun crew of a nearby 37mm gun.

  “All tanks on the left—watch that wadi for enemy gun positions. Give it some gas!” His tank surged ahead, two others increasing speed to follow as the Dragoons charged forward. Two groups of three would sweep to the left of the hill, two more groups would break off to the right, and the last three tanks would remain in reserve to support either flank.

  “Whatever that was, it didn’t bother us much,” said Bowers.

  The 37 and 50mm AT guns were utterly useless, as the Germans quickly found out. Bowers’ tanks took out six gun positions without so much as a paint scratch from the initial defensive line Streich had set up. If he had been alive to see what was happening, Streich would have immediately had the sense to get his men out of harm’s way, but he was dead, struck down by that first thunderous barrage from the Desert Bravehearts that pounded his hilltop position with six heavy rounds.

  It was Bowers on the left who would face the 88s. His tanks rounded the hill, their khaki paint schemes blending in perfectly to the chalky terrain around them. The ground dipped slightly, then rose, and when he hit that higher elevation his tank was immediately struck by a much more powerful round. The noise and concussion told them something much bigger had taken up the fight, the Germans’ one hope to stave off this terrible new enemy.

  The resounding hit was the first bold challenge, the business end of the German defensive line, weakened by the British artillery, but still potent, with nine 88s still ready for action. The battle had begun, but this was an enemy far more powerful than any tank the Germans had ever faced, or ever would face, in this war. It was an order of magnitude beyond even the very best German tank that would emerge from the cauldron of this terrible conflict, the dreadful Königstiger.

  Throughout its combat history to that time, fighting in Iraq, Afghanistan and Egypt, not a single Challenger II had ever been lost in combat to enemy fire! A Challenger II tank could sit faced off by forty medium German tanks of this era and methodically destroy every one of them while the enemy fired away in utter futility. The Germans could fire round after round against that laminate Chobham armor, and do no harm whatsoever.

  But German doctrine never intended to allow for such a duel. Instead they would now pit the dread 88 against this new foe, the most powerful anti-tank gun they would field in the war. It could penetrate 200mm of armor at near point blank range, less at this range of just over two kilometers when the Germans fired. That was more than enough to deal with the best British tank, the stolid Matilda with 70mm frontal armor, but this was not a Matilda.

  “Damn good shooting,” said Bowers to his gunner.

  “Got them on thermals, sir. Shall I return the favor?”

  “Please do. No sense scratching up this beast any more than we have to.”

  The Challenger II had armor composed of exotic materials, composite ceramics, carbon nanotubes, boron and silicon carbides, aluminum, titanium and syndite, a synthetic diamond composite. Protection levels were calculated against both Kinetic Energy Penetrators, and High Explosive rounds. The frontal armor of a Challenger II had protection levels against KE or HEAT rounds of at least 600mm of standard RHA armor, the type any WWII tank might use. In places, that protection level exceeded 1000mm, and on the heavy turret armor that had so awed O’Connor when he first set his hand on it, this protection rose to an astounding 1250mm against KE penetrators and 1980mm against HEAT rounds!

  During operations in Iraq, incidents occurred where a Challenger II had been ambushed and hit by as many as seventy RPGs, weapons that actually had far more penetration power than the German 88s, and yet the tank survived with only minor damage and was back in operation six hours later. No one inside was killed or wounded. In fact, the only instance of a Challenger II destroyed in combat had occurred in a friendly fire incident where one tank mistakenly targeted another at near point blank range, and the shell went in through an open hatch. It was a beast that could only be killed by its own kind.

  In short, the Challenger II was completely impervious to destruction by any anti-tank weapon that would ever be developed in WWII. Period. The enemy might get a lucky hit and damage the tracks, but do little else, an
d tactical deployments could prevent track hits easily enough. There were places on the tank that were more vulnerable to good hits. The flank and rear were not as well protected, but Bowers instinctively sensed this, and gave an order to back up so his tracks would be just below the elevation he had scaled. Then he squared his frontal armor off to the enemy and began lighting up targets. His tank was effectively “hull down” where its tracks were below the sight lines of the enemy guns while its imposing armored turret remained above to engage. And when these Desert Rats attacked, they would ravage their enemy completely.

  The gunner had good thermals on the German Pakfront now, and the big 120mm gun began to fire. One, two, then a third 88 battery was blasted away, and the remaining gunners, astounded to see their rounds glancing harmlessly off the enemy tank, had the good sense to run their rigging drill, gun the hauler’s engines, and begin a hasty retreat to the rear. Only seven of the twelve guns would survive. Bowers tank had single handedly defeated Rommel’s heavy flak company, meant to anchor this end of the German line and stop any attack through this defile cold. The defense here broken, he would now lead his 15 Challengers forward to a position where they could begin ravaging the German infantry positions of the 5th Machine Gun Battalion.

  The call came out—infantry!

  “Sabre one to Ruby Red. Ready on that short order. The main course has been served. Bring out the Bubble and squeak.”

  “Copy that, Sabre One. Bubble & squeak it is!”

  Bubble and squeak was a traditional English dish made with the leftover vegetables from a full roast dinner. It was mixed with potatoes and fried up, named for the sound of the dish frying in the pan, which would bubble and squeak. But in this case it was meant to indicate a second course, the leftovers after the Challengers had eliminated the primary long range AT threat to the Warriors. It was the handle Bowers had assigned to 1st Company, the Mercian Battalion, waiting to be served.

  Old habits were well ingrained. Bowers had defeated the enemy’s long range gun defenses, but now he had open ground, at least two kilometers, to cross. There could be infantry dug in anywhere out there with fistfuls of RPGs. Reeves might have told him not to worry about that. The Germans had no effective man held anti-tank weapon at this stage of the war, but Bowers radioed back to his supporting Warrior company in any case, calling up the IFVs. His tanks had two MGs each, but the Warriors had that nice upgraded 40mm Bofors autocannon, and it would provide superb suppressive fire on infantry positions while he determined what else was in front of him.

  He got on his Sabre channel and passed the word. “Tally Ho, gentlemen. We’re leading in the charge. Follow me!”

  The deep engine growled and the heavy tracks lurched the tank forward. They came out of the defile and onto the stony plain, gathering speed like a storm of steel. Thermals were hot, picking up enemy positions ahead, and he could hear his men tracking, marking targets, and firing. In the heat of battle he had to remind himself of one last order from Kinlan’s briefing. They had to watch their ammunition count very carefully. He got on the radio to remind his tankers of just that.

  “Be stingy with main gun fire, boys. Use it only if you must. We’ve got Warriors right behind us.”

  Off in the distance the Germans infantry of the 5th Machinegun Battalion could see and hear the awful thunder of those fifteen Challengers on attack. The dust rose, still red in the ruddy dawn, and something was coming at them from another world, a bolt from the blue, a power that no man among them could ever redress in this first mad hour. The tanks would crash into the German line like elephants treading down ant hills. The Germans watched them come, their machine guns and 37mm AT guns firing furiously, but to no avail.

  And so it began…

  Chapter 20

  The shock of the attack was complete. Even though the Germans were a well trained and disciplined force, they had no answer for the storm that came out of the blood red morning that day. The 88s had been positioned on and around a hill feature designated 198 on Bowers’ map. It lay to the left of the thin track that ran north, with the wadi on the left. The first three Challengers to be engaged had taken out the AT guns with accurate return fire, and three guns had managed to retire behind the hill heading north, their crews shaken to see their rounds striking the enemy tanks, but unable to harm them in any way. The best German defense against tanks had been defeated almost before it could acquire a target!

  As the tanks led the charge onto the more open ground, the infantry of the 5th and 8th Machinegun Battalions quickly called for supporting artillery fire, as Streich had planned. Streich was dead, but his orders were still alive. The gritty Sergeants on the line radioed back for artillery fire, and the rounds came in soon after. Yet they were immediately answered by lethal counter battery fire. Radars were watching and recording the arc and fall of the incoming shells, and computers were calculating the position of the guns for the AS-90s. Six guns went into burst mode and quickly put 6 rounds each on the German gun positions—36 heavy 155mm rounds that wreaked havoc. The hasty defense had not given the Germans time to dig their guns in. Realizing what had happened, the only defense was to move the artillery or be destroyed, and by the time they reached a new location the attack would be over.

  The Challengers led the way, followed closely by the Warriors with their new 40mm Bofors guns putting deadly accurate fire on the German infantry positions. They were ideal for taking out small AT and infantry guns, and behind them the company self-propelled mortars were laying down good fire with their 81mm tubes. Then they got the first surprise of the morning with the sudden appearance of enemy tanks.

  “Thermals right!” A gunner in the leading three Challengers on that flank called the warning. “Tanks! Tanks!”

  “Gunner track right. Engage!” The Challengers saw the Panzers coming in at just over 2000 meters, and their big turrets rotated, guns firing as the tanks moved. That was a feat the Germans could not duplicate, as they needed to stop to get a stable firing solution on a target, though that really didn’t matter.

  * * *

  Hans Kummel had been waiting with his company of Panzer IIIGs near an old cairn site, and when the action began he led his tanks out through a low depression, intending to move south and then turn west to take the advancing British on the flank. He thought he might get at the enemy artillery, but had no idea it was almost twenty kilometers to the south. Now his tanks emerged from the purple shadows of the higher ground behind him, charging in to engage, but what he saw was not British 25 pounders, but tanks!

  Kummel would need to charge forward another full kilometer to get into optimal firing range, and before his eighteen tanks had covered half that distance, the three Challengers had put needle nosed armor piercing sabot rounds through six Panzer IIIs. He was lucky his own tank had not been hit.

  “Kruschinski! Find cover! Look at those monsters out there! Albers!” He shouted to his gunner now. “Can you hit them?”

  Albers loaded furiously, sweat dotting his forehead even though the morning chill was still on the air, and the temperature inside the tanks had not reached that awful scalding boil that they often suffered. But he knew his Company commander well, and he could hear the desperate edge in his voice. Kruschinski had backed up to maneuver behind a sandy hummock covered with low desert scrub, and now Albers saw what Kummel was shouting about. A massive hulk loomed in his sights, well lit by the rising sun, a tank unlike anything he had ever seen. He knew the enemy armor silhouettes well, and what to expect at this range. He could distinguish the tall, squarish shape of a Matilda easily from the lower, flatter profile of the cruiser tanks, but this was something else.

  He looked at his range finder, thinking they were much closer than he thought. How could it be so huge? The tank was easily twice the size of a Matilda. Then he saw another Panzer III on his left stopping to fire, recognizing the number as Schuber’s tank. The thin barrel of his 50mm gun spit yellow flame at the enemy, but he watched in shock as the round simply glanced har
mlessly off the enemy turret, which now rotated ominously in their direction. The gun barrel was the size of a tree trunk, or so it seemed. It had to be an artillery piece! No tank gun in the world could be that size. And then it fired, blasting Schuber’s tank to pieces with a single round.

  “Back! Back! Back!” Kummel’s strident order could barely be heard over the noise of the explosion. He had seen all he needed to know. Now their only hope now was to get back behind the knobby protrusion of a wind scored rock formation. The engine strained and the Panzer III jolted, backing furiously way a just as the massive enemy turret and gun began to rotate his way.

  The Germans took heart, suddenly seeing platoons of their own tanks charging from the shadow of a long elevation, Hill 209 to the east. But their jubilation was short lived when they saw one tank after another blasted apart, turrets flung wildly into the air with the impact of devastating rounds. Just three enemy tanks had stopped the entire German formation. The Panzers had fired bravely, but their guns did no more damage than the 47mm guns in the Panzerjager units. Dismayed to see that even the powerful 88s had no effect on these new British tanks, a barely restrained panic set in.

  All down the line it was much the same. The Challengers stunned the defense, eliminating any potential threat to the lighter skinned infantry carriers. The Warriors stood off and used the range and firepower of their 40mm cannons to pound the German infantry positions. Kummel survived, making the shadow of the hillock just in time, but the 5th MG Battalion was now being decimated by these fierce new British armored vehicles. 8th MG Battalion to the east fared little better.

  Ten minutes later Bowers had his Challenger II up on Hill 222 where Streich had taken up his position that fateful morning. From there he could see the enemy retreat was now well underway. Pockets of infantry scurried back from their holes, seeking the protection of a low escarpment on his right. The thin track he was on headed that direction, and his digital map showed it would work its way about four kilometers north through increasingly broken ground to a place called Bir el Khamsa.