‘Maybe.’
Abby looked at the area around Murmansk sceptically, taking in the yellow markers that denoted the regiments which had retreated to the city and the ones that were thinly spread along the blue line of the river. There were already four or five times their number of red markers facing them and more than twice that amount on their way. ‘How? I mean, all they really have to do is cross the river, the city itself has no real defences that I’ve seen.’
‘You’re right, it doesn’t. However, the Muscovites knew this day was coming and have had a lot of time to make the river a death-trap.’
Campbell led Abby over to the side of the room where there was a smaller scale map on the wall of just the city and the surrounding area, including the river. ‘The Prussian commander is in a hurry; he’s left his offensive too late and he only has days left before the weather completely closes in and has to find shelter in the city. He hasn’t got time to try a crossing somewhere else and then besiege us, so he’s going to have to come straight across, either directly into the city or very close by and we have some very nasty surprises in store for them.’
She ran a finger along the wide blue channel running past the city and Abby saw that it was marked with hundreds of red dots with only a thin passage between them. ‘Mines in the water should deal with a good number of their heavier amphibious craft and Walkers, but they’re really meant for ships, so anything with a shallow draught, like a troop carrier, will pass right over them. And that’s where you come in - we’re running low on ammunition so no more attacks on their dug-in troops, instead I need you to send as many of their boats and most especially those vulnerable troop carriers to the bottom as you can when they’re out in the open.’
Campbell saw Abby’s grimace. ‘Yes, I know that neither you nor your pilots particularly like machine-gunning troops and you’d all much rather be duelling the Barons in the sky, but this is what we need you for right now.’
Abby nodded. ‘Understood and we’ve come to terms with that. Don’t worry, we’ll do our jobs.’
‘I know you will. I just don’t know if it’ll be enough, so make sure you’re ready to evacuate at a moment’s notice.’ She tapped a point on the north coast, not far from where they had rendezvoused with the Muscovite aircraft the day they had arrived. ‘Archangel has begun to ice up too and the Arturo has been forced to move out before she got trapped. She’s here, at a place called Teriberka. There’s a small airfield there and she will disembark fitters to dismantle Bloodhound and Dreadnought and pack them up for the voyage home.’
Campbell glanced around surreptitiously, making sure that nobody was nearby. ‘Look, if the city does fall it’s going to be every man and woman for themselves around here. The Muscovites aren’t going to look after you, they’re not going to fight to keep you safe, so don’t wait around for orders, just go.’
‘What about you?’
‘There’s no need to worry about me, I have my own evacuation plan. I’ll meet you at Teriberka.’
Campbell grinned and Abby looked in her eyes, trying to work out whether she was lying or not. She chose to believe her and nodded. ‘Alright. Just make sure that you do.’
Chapter 27
The Prussian assault began at dawn the very next day. This time it wasn’t heralded by an artillery bombardment, because they hadn’t yet been able to move any of their larger pieces up through the snow, but the bombers did their best to weaken the resolve of the defenders and pounded the city indiscriminately, not caring whether they struck military or civilian targets, their munitions raising dust and smoke, shrouding the city in a haze that the low-lying sun couldn’t penetrate, plunging the Muscovites into near darkness. The explosions went on and on for long minutes as wave after wave of unmolested aircraft passed overhead, the sound of their engines drowned out by the continuous, deafening noise, but then suddenly it was over.
Into the expectant hush strode the first of the Prussian machines, the six immense heavily-armoured Walkers which had survived the allied aerial attacks to make it to the front. Their telescoping legs found solid purchase in the river bed as they stepped off the bank into it and their sharp prows easily broke through the as yet thin ice with ease.
The Muscovites opened fire, but their antiquated artillery, left over from the Great War, had no more effect on the heavily armoured machines than the bullets of the equally obsolete rifles of the common soldiers and they forged ahead, bringing their deadly cargo of men and tanks ever closer.
For a moment it seemed that the day would be lost as soon as it had begun, that the Prussians would be able to deliver their well-trained and well-armed troops directly into the centre of the city with their first assault, but then the first mine detonated.
The design of the Walkers was such that their bodies were held above the water and all that extended down were the legs. That meant that their profile in the water was far smaller than that of a normal amphibious tank or troop carrier and they were well into the minefield before the first of them was unfortunate enough to brush past one of the deadly cylinders.
The explosion ripped through the underbelly of the Walker as if it were paper, sending icy water rushing into it to consume its contents. Waves surged outwards, boiling and bubbling, rocking the other machines, which spread their legs to steady themselves without any problem and rode them out, but it wasn’t only the water on the surface that had been disturbed and the shockwave that propagated through the depths set the mines swaying and bobbing on their chains.
A second mine pinged ever so gently against the leg of another Walker and instantly detonated, bursting it open, then a third and a fourth explosion threw plumes of white water up into the air, hiding the machines from view.
When the spray finally settled, only two Walkers remained.
The Muscovites soldiers along the river held their breath, waiting, hoping, praying for the roiling water to cause more destruction, but slowly the river calmed and resumed its tranquil appearance.
The machines remained motionless long after the last ripple had subsided and the defenders began to think that they might have been damaged, but the reason for their inactivity became all too clear when wave after wave of amphibious vehicles began to pour into the river along a wide front behind them. It seemed that the Prussian commander had enough sense to recognise that the troops contained in the surviving Walkers wouldn’t last long on their own, that they would need reinforcements and had sent them.
The two Walkers lurched forwards again and almost immediately one of them ran into another mine, but its death was barely remarked upon because all eyes were on the hundreds of Prussian vehicles surging across the river, making light work of the freshly troubled water.
The grey machines, nicknamed “Toads” by the British, who had faced them in France, as much for how ugly they were as for their dual nature, were a cross between a tank and a boat. They were wide and squat and flanked by treads, which powered it forwards both on land and water - the steel slats which provided grip on land were wider than those on a normal tank and rotated through ninety degrees to form something like the paddles on a riverboat. It was heavily armed, with a large gun on the roof and several machine guns mounted on a rotating ring below it, but it had lighter armour than its more conventional cousins and they relied more on speed to protect the fifty men that they carried.
Mines detonated all along the line, destroying one, two or sometimes even three of the Toads at the time, but they barely made a dent in the numbers and the Prussians came on undaunted.
They were more than half-way across before the Muscovites unleashed their secret weapon.
There were rivers and lakes everywhere in North-Western Muscovy, from St. Petersburg to Murmansk, and much of life revolved around them. The adults and children alike used them for leisure, to bathe and fish, but also for other pastimes, the two favourite of which were skating, when they had frozen solid during the winter months, and sailing model ships.
Weeks back,
when the possibility of a Prussian invasion had seemed inevitable, the local government had put out a call, asking for model ships. More than a thousand had been donated and with the water heated by the explosions and the ice melted, the way was clear for them to float from the sewage outlets of the city.
There was a bewildering variety, from a child’s three-foot toy steamer to an enthusiast’s fifteen-foot dreadnought. The military models were painted grey or dark blue, but most were decorated in traditional Russian fashion, with golden cogs, colourful hulls and burnished funnels. They were all of them hand crafted by artisans, who dedicate their lives to making them, and no two of them was exactly alike, but they did share a single characteristic - they were all clockwork and not sail driven, so they weren’t dependant on the wind. Strangely, though, they were also riding lower in the water than they should have been, and had grey floats, long thin tubes, bolted to their sides to compensate and hold them above the water.
Even with the ugly floats it was a lovely display, reminiscent of the mid-summer festivals that were held in most of the larger towns in the area, but it was one that disguised the deadly purpose behind it - the floats were magnetic and filled with flechettes, designed to pierce armour, and the boats themselves were so low in the water because they had been filled to the gunwales with high explosive.
Dozens of the beautiful boats sank, swamped by the wakes of the Toads, but many more attached themselves to the hulls of the machines and at least fifty of them bumped up against the last Walker.
Whistles blew in the city and the watching soldiers took cover wherever they could.
Seconds later, the models exploded, sending flechettes and shrapnel flying at high speed in all directions, pinging and whining off the stones of the buildings lining the waterfront, leaving deep gouges, some even thrown so far as to cut through the Prussian troops massed along the tree line. The damage it did to the vehicles on the river was far greater, though, and when the echoes of the immense blast faded, they were immediately replaced by a wave of noise as the Muscovite soldiers expressed their glee at the success of the absurd tactic.
Hundreds of Toads had been ripped apart and were sinking and hundreds more had come to a halt, immobilised, their treads torn off.
Of the last Walker, all that was left was a twisted lump of metal, swiftly sinking from sight.
At least fifty of the Toads had survived, though, and they were still powering towards the city, while behind them the next wave was advancing - hundreds of motorised boats packed with troops being driven carefully down into the river.
The Muscovites had inflicted heavy losses on the Prussians, but there were many many more soldiers to take their place and now they had no surprises left to throw at them.
Chapter 28
The Misfits, together with the six remaining Wolfpack Harridans and the eight surviving Polikasparovs of the Night Witches, circled a few miles east of Murmansk within striking distance of the river. They ducked in and out of the cloud cover, wondering if they would be needed and hoping that they wouldn’t, that the Prussians would be beaten back by the Muscovite armies.
All too soon, though, almost before the smoke from the destruction of the Toads had cleared, the radio was crackling in their ears.
‘Wolverine Leader, this is Pinprick, come in please.’
‘Hello, Pinprick, this is Wolverine Leader. Congratulate Beetroot on the fireworks, please.’
‘Will do, Wolverine. Guns free, repeat, guns free, but be advised we have incoming aircraft, fifty plus at five thousand feet, twenty miles out.’
‘Roger that, Pinprick. Wolverine, attacking now.’
‘Happy hunting, Wolverine. Pinprick out.’
‘Wolverine Leader to all Wolverine aircraft, break into sections and engage at will.’
The section leaders acknowledged one by one, but Abby and Gwen were already diving.
‘Independent fire, Two.’
‘Roger, Leader.’
Gwen throttled back slightly to drop a couple of dozen metres behind Abby, still on her wing, still protecting her, but able to attack her own targets.
A quick assessment of Dragonfly’s trajectory told Gwen which of the Toads that Abby was going to attack and she nudged her rudder to line herself up others, grinning when she saw that the differing speeds of four of the amphibious vehicles were going to line them up perfectly for her. She dropped slightly lower, making her angle of attack slightly shallower, then opened fire.
From her perspective, it was as if all four targets were stacked one on top of the other and all she needed to do to walk her fire from one to the other was to gently pull up on the stick.
Tracer rounds reached out, intersecting her targets and, as if by magic, wide black holes opened up in the machines one by one.
She poured a total of three seconds of fire into the four machines, less than a second for each of the targets, but a quick glance as she banked to follow Abby showed that all four of them were slewing off course or coming to a halt, fatally damaged.
‘Good shooting, Two! Not that I’m counting, or anything, but that’s four for you and only three for me. Coming around for another run.’
Gwen followed Abby as she banked hard, heading back to the river.
The other aircraft had made good practice among the Toads and there were now only a few dozen left. Gwen sighed when she saw the way they had clumped up in an attempt to avoid the wreckage of their friends, wishing that she had some of Wendy’s rockets; one salvo would destroy most of them, but they had run out weeks ago when Wendy had no longer been able to find materials to make them with. She settled for lining up on three of them and repeated her tactics from before.
She settled back under Abby’s wing and they banked around again, just in time to see her three targets going under the water, along with all of the other remaining Toads, destroyed in a single strafing run by the eight Night Witches.
‘Not bad, Two, but you only got three that time.’
‘Only three, Leader? I seem to remember you “only” getting three on your first run.’
‘Ah, but that was just practice to get my eye in - I got five this time round.’
Gwen laughed. ‘You did that on purpose! You knew there weren’t going to be any left and lulled me into a false sense of security!’
‘Maybe... But there’s plenty of targets left - those troop carriers are looking very inviting.’
Gwen looked down. The boats carrying the Prussian troops were making their way across the river far slower than their armoured friends had and were indeed extremely inviting targets, sitting ducks in fact, and there were more than enough to go around.
She swallowed bile as she thought of the damage her guns would do among the men in the boats, remembered what they had done to hundreds before - no matter how many times she attacked troops on the ground, she never got used to it and she hoped that she never would. ‘Roger, Leader.’
‘Leader to all Wolverines, pull back and circle, we’ll wait for the boats to get out into the middle of the river and then attack in sections. Use machine guns only, conserve cannon rounds in case there’s more armour.’
She was about to say more, but she was cut off by Owen’s frantic voice. ‘Wolverine Leader, this is Nine. Those aircraft are two miles off bearing two seven zero and descending through angels four. It looks like they intend to intercept. Shall I call in Dreadnought?’
‘Negative, Nine, the situation hasn’t changed.’ Abby hadn’t wanted to put Dreadnought in the way of enemy fighters unless it looked like the Prussians were going to break through and make a landing in considerable force, but she was in the air over Vaenga, ready to come if needed. ‘All Wolverines, change of plan. Break off and prepare to engage air targets.’
‘I don’t bloody see anyone, Leader.’
‘Of course you don’t; they’re in the clouds, Seven! Just keep your damn eyes open! All Wolverines, rendezvous over the city and stay low!’
Gwen followed Abby as they rac
ed back towards Murmansk. It was smart to use the city as cover; the varied colours, the uneven terrain and the smoke rising from the bombing raid wouldn’t allow whoever was up there a clear run at them.
‘They’re right on top of you, Wolverine Leader.’
‘Thank you, Nine. Does anyone see anything?’
Gwen followed Abby over the ruins of a church, its golden dome cracked and collapsed in on itself. They were weaving and banking, never once flying in a straight line, while never taking their eyes off the heavy cloud cover only two thousand feet above them.
A minute passed, then two.
The allied aircraft continued to weave around the city unpredictably, but the attack never came, and in the meantime, the Prussian forces were getting ever closer to the other side of the river.
Gwen caught glimpses of the fight every time they flew nearby and could see the Muscovite defenders taking potshots at the boats, but, as Bruce put it, they were like “fleas biting a dog’s arse,” an analogy that Gwen found appropriate because in the end the Muscovites would be brushed away by a single swipe of the Prussians’ mighty tail unless the Misfits did something quickly.
As if she’d read Gwen’s mind, Abby’s voice filled her ears. ‘Nine, are you sure they’re there?’
‘Of course I am, Leader, they’re just circling around you.’
Abby swore, forgetting to switch off her comms. ‘All aircraft, form up and head back to the river, we have to hit those troops.’
The twenty-two aircraft formed up into one big wing and turned together towards the fighting, flying low over the roofs of the battered city.
‘We’ll attack by flights, not sections, first A, then B, then the Wolfpack, then the Night Witches. Stay together, stay low, stay fast and keep your eyes peeled until it’s your turn. And whatever you do, don’t fly in a straight line for long.’
They got to the river in seconds and Abby led A flight right in to engage the boats while the other aircraft circled, looking to cover them.
The Russian Resistance Page 35