The Blue Effect (Cold War) (8 page)

Oberst Keller stopped. “Do they have some civilian doctors or medical staff that can treat these people?” he said, looking at the Soviet colonel.

“There are some, but our own soldiers have a priority over these.”

“Can’t you at least release some nurses to provide them with some minimal care?”

“No, Comrade Oberst. My orders are to treat as many of our soldiers as possible. I must release some of my medical teams to move forward for the next push.”

“I understand that, Colonel Gachev, but to spare a few nurses would have little impact on your ambitions.”

The Soviet officer started to walk off, but was called back.

“What if I release some of my own medical staff to assist?”

The regimental commander looked him straight in the eye. “If you have spare resources, Oberst, then I suggest you release them to help our soldiers who have been fighting to free these people from the capitalistic yoke that hangs around their neck.” With that, Gachev stormed off.

One of the civilians, a woman in her late seventies, a dirty, bloodied bandage wrapped around her face and covering one eye, peered at him with her good one. Recognising that he was speaking German, noting the uniform was different from the Soviet officer, she ascertained that he was with the
National Volksarmee
.

“Why are you doing this to us?”

The officer was caught off guard as the woman clutched at his sleeve, the single eye searching his face.

A middle-aged man also approached, pointing to a young boy slumped against a low wooden fence. The boy’s upper chest was wrapped with what could only have been white bed sheets, torn into strips to act as a bandage. “He got hit by a stray bullet. We can’t seem to stop the bleeding. Please help us. He will die if you don’t do something.”

“My daughter was hit by falling masonry,” called out another. “She has a head wound. She keeps passing out. We have nowhere else to go. Have mercy on us. We didn’t ask to be involved in this war.”

The girl, probably no more than ten years old, was lying on a wooden door, either taken down, or blown down, to be used as a stretcher. Next to her, sitting cross-legged on the tarmac road, her brother stroked her arm.

Oberst Keller pulled away from the old woman who was now holding both sleeves, pleading for help. He walked ten paces back in the direction he had come from initially, and signalled to the driver of the Jeep that had brought him here. The driver, leaning against the side of the vehicle, quickly stubbed out his cigarette, jumped in the vehicle and drove towards the
National Volksarmee
Oberst’s position.

“Get onto the 2nd Battalion,” Oberst said to the radio operator sitting in the back of the vehicle. “I want their medical team here within the hour. Once they arrive, you are to direct them to assist these civilians. They are acting on my orders. No one is to prevent them. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, thank you.” The man with the wounded child expressed his gratitude, and was quickly joined by others in the line.

With that, the Oberst left to rejoin the Soviet officer who had stopped about 100 metres down the road. When he was alongside, the Soviet officer barked. “Your Samaritan act will get you into trouble, Oberst.”

“Had they been Soviet citizens, Herr Colonel, what would you have done?”

This time it was the German officer who stormed off.

C
hapter 9

0
920, 9 JULY 1984. B SQUADRON, QUEEN’S OWN MERCIAN YEOMANRY. WEST OF REHREN, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT -2 DAYS

The Fox eased forward, poking its nose just outside the outskirts of the small village of Lindhorst. The vehicle commander called a halt, and a second armoured reconnaissance car joined him, pulling up alongside on his right. Ashford saw the 30mm RARDEN cannon swing right, the commander of that vehicle keeping a watch to the southeast. Ashford put the rubber cups of the binoculars to his eyes and did a quick search of the foreground, then further out. Above the ticking sound of the armoured car’s Jaguar engine, he could hear a steady staccato of machine-gun fire, interspersed with the single cracks of SLRs and punctuated with the claps of explosions coming from somewhere west of Hanover. He had a good view of the open ground in front of them from here, except for a small wooded area to the north that was blocking his line of sight to the northeast.

He ordered his driver to pull forward, his intention to push east for a further two kilometres. The patrol first headed north, before turning east, passing through the southern tip of the forest that had blocked his view earlier. Once through, the view east was now clear. They pushed forward again, the second Fox following 100 metres behind as they crossed a narrow waterway called Rodenberger Aue. Ashford acknowledged the engineers that were preparing the small bridge for demolition. It wouldn’t delay the enemy for long, such was the capability of the Soviet bridging and ferry units, but they had to slow the enemy’s relentless advance somehow. This was the furthest east he would go for now.

After five minutes of patrolling the local area, the two Fox armoured cars returned to the bridge. The engineers had finished and, after a quick discussion, confirmed that the bridge was ready to blow and they would depart the area, two engineers staying behind to initiate the destruction of this crossing point. This section of Rodenberger Aue, between the canal to the north and Bad Nenndorf in the south, was under the watchful eye of a K-Company from the 1st Battalion, Yorkshire Volunteers. It was Lieutenant Ashford’s job to watch for the enemy while the Territorial Army unit prepared its defences. He looked over his shoulder, his ears picking up the sound of four-tonners labouring under their heavy loads of infantry, equipment and as much ammunition as possible that could be packed on-board. It was time to cross the water again so he ordered his driver forward, and they tentatively made their way across the bridge, the second Fox fifty metres behind. This time, his two reconnaissance vehicles would need to move further east, acting as a screen for the battalion while they deployed, and informing them of any enemy threat. The Fox armoured cars crawled along the road, choosing stealth over speed. Ashford wasn’t sure which was best: to dash along the road to the village of Haste and risk being ambushed on the way, but using speed to charge through it, or to try and spot any tell-tale signs and reverse out of danger quickly. He eventually chose to pick up speed, the growl of the two Jaguar engines intensifying as they sped at over fifty kilometres an hour along the metalled road.

They left Rehren to their south, passing through Nordbruch and the village of Wilhelmsdorf, the Mittellandkanal no more than a kilometre to their north. Following the edge of a small forest on their left-hand side, the two armoured cars eventually slowed down as they approached the first houses of the next village, Haste. Ashford’s head moved from side to side, his neck straining to allow him visibility of as much of the area around them as possible. He admitted to being scared. He was a Lieutenant in the Queen’s Own Mercian Yeomanry now, but two weeks ago he had been sitting comfortably in his office, part of a large accountancy firm, reading
The Times
while he sipped an Earl Grey tea. The news had been about the financial crisis, a countrywide moratorium on spending, a murder in the outskirts of Manchester, but nothing about a large planned annual exercise by the Soviet army. And certainly nothing about the impending invasion of West Germany. After eighteen months training in the Territorial Army as a troop commander, here he was now, in West Germany, going into battle for the first time in his life.

The driver slowed as they came to the junction, connecting the minor road they were on with the 442 that came from the north, from the direction of the Mittellandkanal to Bad Nenndorf in the south. A railway line also crossed their front.

Lieutenant Ashford ordered the driver to pull off to the left and to manoeuvre the Fox as best he could into the trees. Ashford twisted his shoulders and signalled for his other recce vehicle to move right and find a position amongst some scattered buildings on the southern side of the road. He ducked as a low-lying branch scraped across his face, nearly pulling his beret and headphones off. “Stop, stop.”

The large wheels stopped turning.

“I’m going to the edge of the trees. Then I’ll check out the village. I’ll guide you forward.”

He clambered down from the large turret and the Fox reconnaissance vehicle followed him slowly, stopping on Ashford’s signal once it was positioned at the edge of the treeline. Checking his pistol in the canvas holster on his right hip, Ashford stepped out onto the road, ready to move towards the bridge over the railway line. His plan to walk as far as the outskirts of the town on the other side of the road and railway line, were not to be fulfilled as the Fox opposite exploded in a shower of flame and metal fragments. Ashford was stunned momentarily before regaining his senses and sprinting back to his Fox. His gunner, a bricklayer from the West Midlands, was on the alert; more out of fear of the position he found himself in on the frontline in West Germany than through professional training. He hit the firing button, and a burst of three 30mm rounds punched into the Soviet airborne troops he had seen assault his fellow soldiers, his friends, people he used to drink with after work.

The armour of the Fox rattled as small-arms fire spattered the turret, and the gunner heard Lieutenant Ashford screaming at him. “Behind you!”

The lieutenant was racing towards him, now within the trees, trunks splintering as the airborne troops across the road recovered and opened fire. Corporal Alfie Jarrett pulled himself up so his shoulders were out of the turret, and opened fire with his SMG, the 9mm rounds going wide but forcing the enemy who had been sneaking up to take cover. He quickly dropped back down and fired a burst from the coaxial machine gun at the first group of soldiers, pinning the airborne troops down, leaving Ashford safe to clamber on board.

“Harry, get us out of here, go right. Alfie, turret left as we go.”

Harry Beale, the driver, didn’t need a second telling. He was more than ready to carry out his orders and get out of the area, terror cutting into him like a knife. The four-litre engine screamed as he fumbled with the gears. Eventually, the Fox shot forward, a trail of mud and debris splayed out behind as he manoeuvred the vehicle sharply to the right, throwing the crew sideways. Ashford dropped down inside, on the left, pulling the hatch after him as the Fox was pummelled with bullets. Once the turret had turned to face the now burning second Fox, he banged the button and the two four-barrelled smoke dischargers fired, engulfing the area out to the front in a cloud of dense white smoke. Harry lost control, the Fox swerving left before he brought it back under control, an explosion behind them indicating that his accidental manoeuvre had put the airborne soldier who had just fired an RPG-16 off his aim.

Lieutenant Ashford looked back through the vision block to see Golf-One-Bravo on fire. The aluminium armour was capable of stopping 7.62mm rounds and artillery shrapnel, but not an anti-tank round from a rocket-propelled grenade launcher.

“Zero-Golf, this is Golf-One-Alpha. Contact. Soviet airborne. Golf-One-Bravo destroyed. Over.”

“Zero-Golf. Roger that. Your location? Over.”

“West of Haste, returning Rodenberger now.”

“Roger. Friendlies in situ. Deploy and provide cover. Over.”

“Understood. Deploy Aue.”

“Golf-One-Charlie and Delta will join you. Out.”

The driver had the Fox moving almost at top speed, barely able to avoid deep ruts on the edge of the road or to maintain track as he steered around the bends.

“Steady, Harry, steady. We’ll be at the bridge in less than a minute. Then we can turn and fight.”

The Fox slowed slightly, but mild panic ensured that the driver kept the reconnaissance vehicle moving at a steady pace.

They crossed the bridge and Lieutenant Ashford called a halt, shouting down to the Territorial Army infantry platoon that had moved in to defend the bridge. “They could be right behind us. Keep your eyes peeled.”

“What is it?” responded the platoon commander, a Lieutenant, who up until a week ago had been a manager at a small warehouse.

“Airborne, Soviet airborne. Watch out for their BMDs.”

“Are you staying?” asked the lieutenant, feeling exposed suddenly. Thirty men in his command and two Carl-Gustavs as their defence against armour, the pressure was on.

“We’ll keep an over-watch. I have two more units on the way.”

“Thank God for that,” the lieutenant replied, smiling. “I need to deploy my men.”

0925, 9 JULY 1984. ELEMENTS OF THE 3RD REGIMENT ARMY AIR CORPS, 24TH AIRMOBILE BRIGADE. KIRCHHORSTEN, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT -2 DAYS

The two Lynx helicopters hovered about 300 metres apart watching for signs of enemy movement that might interrupt the activity going on below. The TOW anti-tank missiles, two each side, were waiting to be unleashed should any Soviet armour appear. They were fully aware that a Soviet airborne regiment had parachuted in some fifteen kilometres away to the east, and the BMDs could prove to be a serious threat should they manage to evade the lookout posts deployed in the local area. If a small airborne force managed to bypass allied forces on the ground between their landing zone and Kirchhorsten, it would disrupt the groundwork going on below and delay the preparations for the defence of the Stop-Line Black Raven. Ahead, a Gazelle acted as a spotter. On the ground, elements of an airmobile company had been put into position. A rifle company, complete with eight Milan firing posts, deployed by Lynx helicopters earlier, was providing a security screen as the Forward Armament and Refuelling Point for the 24th Airmobile Brigade was being set up. They were in turn defended by elements of the Air Defence battery. A full AD section had been deployed, providing four Blowpipe teams to help defend the group from attack by the Warsaw Pact air force. High above, two Phantom Interceptors were providing a Combat Air Patrol, Higher Command recognising how vulnerable the airmobile brigade was during the initial stages of its deployment. Once the FARP was complete, stocked with pre-positioned ammunition, fuel and supplies, it would be available to support the next phase. Next would come more air defence and two of the Royal Artillery’s gun batteries, with sixteen 105mm light guns. Artillery ammunition and more infantry would follow them. One kilometre away, the Gun Position Officer had already been dropped off and was in the process of measuring their planned positions, marking out the points where the Brigade’s helicopters would drop the 105mm guns.

0930, 9 JULY 1984. ELEMENTS OF 2ND BATTALION, ROYAL REGIMENT OF FUSILIERS, 24TH AIRMOBILE BRIGADE. KIRCHHORSTEN, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT -2 DAYS

On a relatively open piece of ground, a Senior Non-Commissioned Officer completed the final touches to his marking card, ensuring he had made a note of the grid for the drop-off point and the pick-up points where the helicopter would need to return to pick up the rest of the platoon’s stores. He checked that the information regarding the current load, a machine-gun section, had the correct number of personnel. There were no under-slung loads.

The platoon sergeant looked back to where the machine-gun section of nine men was formed up behind him, waiting on his signal to be called forward. The SNCO in command at the front, knelt on one knee, his Self-Loading Rifle, SLR, resting on his left knee, pointing forwards. Behind him, a soldier carried a General-Purpose Machine Gun. The third soldier in the line was crouched down with a tripod slung over his shoulder. Behind them, two more GPMGs and two tripods were carried between the rest of the section. Once in place, this fire support unit, with their weapons in a sustained-fire format fitted with the C2 optical sight, could provide effective fire out to 1,800 metres. They were just one of the elements of the airmobile infantry battalion that were preparing to deploy. The majority would first fly into the FARB, but this section would deploy straight to their positions as part of the Aviation Company.

24th Infantry Brigade was highly mobile. With its two permanent battalions – 2nd Battalion, the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers, and the 1st Battalion, the King’s Own Royal Border Regiment – along with the regularly attached 1st Parachute Battalion, it could pack a punch that any attacking force would find difficult to counter. General Cutler, commander of 1st British Corps, was depending on these 2,000-plus men to provide a blocking force from the Mittellandkanal in the north, to the south of Stadthagen; hold a key part of Stop-Line Black-Raven; put a halt to the rapidly advancing Soviet Operational Manoeuvre Group that was threatening to outpace the general’s attempts to form a solid stop-line on the Weser; blunt the attack; and hold while reinforcements continued to arrive on the Continent. Two infantry battalions would be deployed initially, the parachute battalion being held in reserve. The Paras could either be used to prevent a latent breakthrough or, if it was feasible and the opportunity arose, to assist in any counter-attack against the Soviet forces. This element of the Brigade, the RRF battalion of 700 men preparing to deploy, would first move to the FARB. But, one company, the Aviation Company, including a separate machine-gun section, would go directly to Nienbrugge, and dig in next to the southern bank of the canal. A Territorial company was out in front, providing a screen and waiting for elements of the retreating British units to pass through. The rest of the TA battalion was west of Niengraban, north of the canal.