by Andy Farman
It was dark before Nikki’s still form was pulled inside the protective canopy along with the meagre survival stores from the American rafts. It was cramped inside with the three of them, but once it was done the two men bailed out the excess water and sealed up the opening against the wind. Working in the dark they stripped Nikki naked before the Scotsman extracted a survival blanket from his own rafts stores, and between them they wrapped it around the unconscious female. Sandy ordered Chubby to strip and climb in next to her, sharing his warmth.
They had left her helmet on until then, but now Sandy cracked one of their tiny stock of chemical light sticks and set to work.
“She has a lump on the back of the head but the skins not broken…I think its concussion and shock, the cold hasn’t helped either, we could lose her in the night Chubby, exposure may have set in, see how blue her lips are?” There were two chemical ‘hot pads’ in the life raft stores, small plastic envelopes that reacted to the air and heated up, once their seals were broken. Sandy stripped off his flight suit and under clothing before unsealing the raft and wringing out all their garments as best he could and then zipping up again. He activated the pads and squirmed his way under the survival blanket, on Nikki’s other side. The two men wedged the pads between their bodies and hers before they settled in for a long uncomfortable night.
North Pacific Ocean: 0330hrs, 2nd April:
The 1000’ long antennae had been streamed almost two hours’ before any transmissions, pertinent to the vessel, had been received. HMS Hood had precisely five torpedoes remaining before she became redundant, and the nearest replacements were in the Hawaiian Islands, at Pearl Harbour. Her Captain had wanted to head for Japan to rearm but the naval base was under near constant missile attack and COMSUBPAC, the USNs commander submarines, Pacific, had waved them off. Within a day and a half a single Seawolf class, US attack submarine would be on station; another was enroute from Pearl. Royal Navy Captains are not privy to their own Admiralty’s strategies and the Hood’s commander was certainly not privy to the US Navy Departments machinations, so he could only guess at where the Pacific submarine fleet was, certainly not in the North Pacific, that was for sure.
The USA had minimal land forces in Japan anyway, and soon they would be gone along with air and sea assets. US shipping in the Pacific had been federalised and ordered into ports in South Korea and Japan, the submarines were going to protect the sea-lanes from those ports to Australia, and only then could they venture forth and sink ships as they were supposed to do.
She was two hundred miles away from the John F Kennedy group when the carrier and her escorts had been destroyed; but water is a better medium than air for carrying sound and they heard the combat group die.
Hood and come out to the Pacific as part of the same flag waving exercise as Prince of Wales, Malta and Cuchullainn, and now was the sole surviving warship. Their orders requested them to return to the area, not so much to search for survivors as to show that they had tried. The Captain knew that it was a more humanitarian task, on behalf of the thousands of next of kin and loved ones, rather than a mission with a solid military purpose. For that reason he had been given a way out, room to refuse so as to rearm and continue war patrols, but he knew some of the wives and families and he knew he would have to look them in the eye again one day.
HMS Hood reeled in the floating antennae and came about, diving to 400’ and set a course of 315’ as he informed the crew of their task. They would be using their periscope far more often than was healthy, laying them open to detection from sensitive radars and MAD passes, where aircraft fly low, looking for their instruments to detect magnetic anomalies and twitch, telling them a submarine was close to the surface.
Germany: 1730hrs, same day.
Lt Col Pat Reed MC, arrived at a muddy track junction in some woods to take command of the 1st Battalion Coldstream Guards, or rather the two hundred and eleven officers and men that remained who were fit for duty.
He brought with him forty-seven Coldstreamers as replacements, along with two hundred and eighty-eighty paratroopers of the American 82nd Airborne battalion that had fought its way back to NATO lines at Leipzig. For a time at least, the remnants of two proud battalions would fight together as a single unit with himself as the commander, and a major from the 82nd as the 2 i/c.
The Guards RSM, Barry Stone, or ‘Baz the Raz’ to the boys had taken a Warrior to meet them on the road seven miles away, in order to guide them in. The new CO and the American troops arrived in Bundeswehr, German Army trucks, and introductions were made all round.
Major Jim Popham was the senior surviving 82nd officer; Regimental Sergeant Major Arnie Moore was his right hand man. Both Americans carried injuries from the fight at the airport which should have excused them from combat for a while, had they not left the aid station as soon as the grenade fragments had been removed and the wounds cleaned. The four of them shared the Warrior that guided them to this spot, during the journey Lt Col Reed grilled the RSM as to what had occurred beside the river, what was now required and how were the troops. He had already read the reports and had been briefed by an officer from division, now he wanted to hear it from someone who had been there.
The RSM and the new CO had soldiered together before, so the RSM pulled no punches.
“A lot of the boys have captured AKMs secreted away; the LSWs let us down…quite badly. The section gunners binned them when we pulled out, which was about four hours’ after the last one stopped working. We ran out of reloads for the Milan’s and we ran out of NLAWs too. It wasn’t that their artillery prevented replen’s being brought up, their guns were knocked out for nearly two hours’. The MOD knew we would be fighting lots of armour, yet we didn’t have nearly enough. It was their artillery that did the damage initially, the tactic of our own holdings its fire until their armour committed was bollocks, sir. They hammered us, killed a lot of men and screwed up command and control, they should have counter battery’d sooner, much sooner. The boys in the reverse slope got hit heavily by mortars, where the guns couldn’t reach, but they didn’t have as many of those as they had guns, the guns slaughtered the depth positions. We don’t know what happened to Colonel Hupperd-Lowe, once the barrage stopped he went forward, he may have been at the 1 Company CP when an airstrike took it out”
The colonel was listening intently,
“Did many get left behind, there must have been some trapped in shelter bays?”
“There is no way of telling, I just hope those who dig themselves out screw the bobbin, and think to evade right from the off sir. The enemy isn’t taking prisoners; they even kill the wounded.”
The new commanding officer was watching the RSMs eyes, he knew without asking that that he had witnessed something that angered and haunted him.
“What’s their mood, any quitters?”
“We had a handful who were ineffective after the shelling stopped, but the boys fought until we had to pull out, no one quit and they are ready for round two.” He looked at the colonel before continuing, “They are pissed off at the shiny arses in Whitehall giving them crap…again, you may see another 1918 march on Parliament when this is over!”
Major Popham was curious about the reference and the CO explained.
“The Guards are renowned for their discipline, but politicians have managed to upset us to the point that we have, on a couple of hushed up occasions, said ‘Enough is enough!’ In 1918 we marched on Parliament with bayonets fixed.” The American raised his eyebrows and the CO smiled.
“It got their attention.”
When the Americans were discussing an organisational problem between themselves, the RSM spoke quietly to the new CO.
“We do have one problem sir, its one I personally feel strongly about, by way of an alleged discipline matter.” RSM Stone said.
“RSM, any break down of discipline in time of war is something I am inclined to come down hard on….…wait, you said alleged, please be specific?”
“
When the battalion command post was taken out, 1 and 2 Company’s had not been given the order to withdraw, although CSM Probert…….you remember Colin Probert sir?” The CO nodded in affirmation.
“Company Sarn’t Major Probert had been given his orders by Major Sinclair to cover the companies as they fell back, only Major Manson refused to accept his word, even when it was obvious the CP was gone.” He outlined how the CSM had bluffed 2 Company’s commander and the new CO was nodding in approval.
“So what is Major Manson’s problem then?”
“Sir, he has since learnt the truth and placed the CSM in close arrest, awaiting charges of cowardice under fire.” The RSM withdrew an audiocassette and a Walkman from a pocket.
“I took the liberty of going over to the brigade signals intelligence detachment, they taped the entire battle of course, our transmissions and theirs. I respectfully suggest you listen to this copy sir, before Major Manson has his say.”
The CO went very still whilst he listened, and then replayed it twice more before muttering.
“That man was an insufferable prig when I last knew him...still thinks he is the lord of the manor, no doubt!" He realised he had spoken aloud and looked sternly at the RSM.
“You did not hear me say that, do you understand, Sarn’t Major?”
“Sir!” was the RSMs only reply.
On arrival at the battalions harbour area, all the commanders of the battalion and attached arms, units and sub units were waiting. Lt Col Reed saw straight away that there was more NCOs present, as acting platoon commanders, than there were junior officers. He had the nominal roll of who was MIA, WIA, KIA and those remaining, but seeing it for himself, with his own eyes, was rather different.
The new CO explained that the battalion was going into action at dawn tomorrow, as four under-strength rifle companies and a large mortar platoon, along with the remainder of 3(UK) Mechanised Brigade. 2(UK) Mechanised Brigade had been forming up over the last five days to the west, and was now enroute to join them. 1(UK) Armoured Brigade would be entering Germany in four days, by which time they had to have cleared out the Russian airborne division from Leipzig. He was aware of the LSWs shortcomings, as were all infantrymen, so he had brought out from the UK thirty-two gimpys. The SA-80 was in short supply as reserve stocks ran out so reserve war stocks were being dug into and he had two hundred SLRs, ammunition, bayonets and magazines, rescued from museums and the like. The older Guardsmen’s faces lit up like it was Christmas.
Lt Col Reed then dismissed all but the 2 Company commander, telling all the remaining company commanders, Hussars squadron commander, forward air, artillery and mortar platoon commanders to return in 30 minutes for an O Group. The US airborne troops went to stow their equipment on their new modes of transport, the British Warrior AFVs, and familiarise themselves with them and get to know their drivers, who were all Coldstream Guardsmen.
Once the others had departed, Major Manson approached the CO, all smiles and hand held outstretched.
“Patrick, so good to see you again…I cannot tell you how happy I was to hear you were taking over!” Which was hardly the truth, as Major Manson had cherished the hope that as the senior surviving officer he would be promoted to carry on as CO of the battalion. He paused when the proffered hand was not taken, and after a moment withdrew it.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened during the withdrawal, Major?”
Manson had rehearsed his version many times, since learning of the death of Major Sinclair before the withdrawal order had reached him.
“I take it that the RSM has already spoken to you, understandable I suppose as it is a serious discipline matter.” The CO did not make any remark; he remained standing, awaiting the Majors explanation.
“We were holding the enemy below the crest of the hill, when Probert came on the air, in a dead funk…obviously panicking and ranting that we had to get out before it was too late. Apparently the battalion CP had just been hit and it had rattled the man completely…shame really, I thought he was made of sterner stuff, obviously just a front.” He paused to take in the CO, the man’s face was impassive, giving nothing away.
“Well I realised that as senior officer it was all up to me to get the battalion out, discipline was going to pot but I managed, somehow…lord knows how I managed it, to settle everyone down…after which I gave a set of quick orders for the withdrawal... Otherwise we really would have been overrun. I kept the battalion together whilst we made a fighting withdrawal.”
“It sounds like a fine job of leadership on your part Major.”
Major Manson shrugged depreciatively.
“It’s what they pay me for Patrick.”
“It also sounds like total and utter… bollocks!”
“I say…steady on old man!”
“Shut up…and stand to attention when you are in my presence, you despicable reptile!” Colonel Reed was leaning forwards and his jaw set with anger. He withdrew the Walkman from his pocket and held it in plain view of the officer before him.
“When I first heard this radio intercept, I assumed that you had the CSM arrested in a fit of annoyance, that a mere ranker…had told you how to do your job. But I now see you tried to make personal capital out of a situation where many better men than you died. You saw it as a career opportunity …and…attempted to ruin a man’s reputation and career in so doing.” Reed was furious, he had envisioned admonishing the major for not being man enough to admit his own faults, but he had uncovered a vindictive and dishonest officer, clearly unfit to lead troops.
“Colonel, sir…I related to you the events as I recalled them…in the heat of battle, things get confusing…”
“Shut your mouth…I won’t have you in my battalion…I won’t have you in my fucking regiment a second longer than I can manage!” He brushed past the major, calling for the RSM, who appeared from behind a nearby tree, the picture of innocence.
“RSM, who is the senior Captain?”
“That would be Captain Llewellyn sir, Mortar Platoon.”
“My compliments to Captain Llewellyn, and he is now OC number 2 Company…once you have done that have someone collect this officers weapon, ammunition and any battalion equipment he has on signature and that includes rations. He is reporting to brigade for reassignment and will make his own way there.” The RSMs broad grin did not appear until he was out of sight of the CO.
Major Manson was ashen faced.
“How am I supposed to get there, its forty odd miles away?”
The CO looked at him.
“Try asking somebody who gives a shit,” and walked away, leaving the man stood alone on the muddy track.
Pacific: Same time
The clear skies of the previous day had reverted to a thin overcast of cloud. Nikki had survived the night and had come too twice, only to lapse into unconsciousness once more. The sea was gentler at the moment, as it had been for most of the day and the trio’s garments had dried, tied as they were to a thick handling strap, which ran across the roof of the raft. They could do nothing about the salt that stained them a washed out colour and remained in the fibres of the clothing, it irritated the skin but at least they were warmed once they had donned them again. Nikki had been redressed and left wrapped in the survival blanket. Earlier, Sandy had awoken from a fitful sleep feeling nauseous and worried that it could be radiation sickness. Chubby did not think so, they were miles to the west of the detonations and the wind was blowing south, as it usually did in these climes.
With the coming of daylight, they had taken stock of their meagre supplies. The raft had a tiny still, that filtered seawater into the drinkable variety but it was painfully slow, producing just a thimbleful every two hours’. Food was another worry, they had at most just three days’ worth so had, after much debate, used the survival kits fishing line and hook, baited with a pickled pilchard which had so far been ignored by its live kin.
The flyers rescue beacons had been switched off, they were unaware of any friendly for
ces anywhere close enough to be able to effect a rescue, but they were aware that the enemy would probably be monitoring every frequency, they did not want to fall into their hands.
The day was spent checking on Nikki in between Sandy’s introducing Chubby to Blackadder fanhood, even offering to demonstrate the making of Private Baldrick’s alternative cappuccino…the offer was hurriedly declined!
Leipzig: 0440hrs, 3rd April.
Smoke and dust reduced visibility for the Russian paratroopers manning the forward OP beyond the autobahn junction. NATO had been pounding their positions every thirty minutes with an hours’ worth of shelling, for the last twenty-four hours’. Inside the OP, the Russian on watch glanced at the timepiece on his wrist; it was about time for the enemy guns to make their presence known again. The burnt out hulks of a pair of Marder APCs and two Leopard II MBTs sat out to their front, along with over a hundred corpses, resulting from the Germans only effort so far to dislodge them. Their division had landed with beefed up 2B11, 120mm mortar assets, six batteries of 122mm D-30 howitzers, and thirty of the light PT-76 tanks, which had been unloaded from IL-76 transports before NATO reorganised in the air. Of the thirty-nine mixed ZSUs that the plan called for, only nine had been delivered. The remainder had been on transports that had turned back in the face of renewed NATO air superiority. The Su-37 cover had been disjointed by air refuelling problems and the resupply airlift was haphazard at best. The armour, guns and AAA that had not made it in, were now sat on the edge of an airfield, along with two field hospitals and their staffs, because ammunition now had priority, except that there wasn’t much making it in. NATO had IR sensors for its AAA too, and a lot of it was plotted up around the city. The Russian stealth fighters could defeat radar but not the heat seekers, and the lumbering Il-76 transports had to get right down on the deck in order to get through. The transports did not fly like crop-dusters and had no terrain following radar; four that had attempted the feat were now smeared across hillsides.