The Blue Effect (Cold War) (18 page)

“Nav, I can see the Forest of Fontainebleau, ninety degrees left.” The pilot passed back a visual fix for the navigator.

“Montereau?”

There was a moment’s pause. “Dead ahead.”

The reading off the triple offset radar was made, confirmed by the pilot’s sightings. With three points confirmed, the bomb aimer had the necessary information to ensure they were on target. They had to get this right. Once past Paris, through Belgium, into the Netherlands, they would bank right west of Nijmegen and then fly an easterly course until they crossed the British front line.

C
hapter 20

0
430, 10 JULY 1984. 15TH MISSILE BATTERY, 50TH MISSILE REGIMENT, ROYAL ARTILLERY. AREA OF WAGENFELD, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT -14 HOURS

The tracks of the M113 chassis churned up the ground as it was jockeyed into position. This transporter was somewhat different from the standard M113. It didn’t transport troops, as did its cousin, the M113 armoured personnel carrier. This one, an M752, transported something much more deadly.

The British Government, along with the other NATO members, had agreed that there was a need to strike back at the Warsaw Pact who were currently bombarding the allied forces in West Germany with a mix of blister and nerve agent toxins. Although the Western forces were well protected and reasonably well trained, it was inevitable that casualties would mount. The soldiers were operating in a hostile chemical environment and, even with their best endeavours, the shield sometimes failed: incorrectly fitted respirators, torn or damaged NBC suits as a consequence of shrapnel or a bullet entry point, would expose the soldiers’ skin to the deadly poisons.

50th Missile Regiment, Royal Artillery, part of the British army’s long-range artillery and the core of the country’s tactical nuclear strike force, under orders from the Prime Minister herself, were about to hit back in earnest.

One of the greatest fears of Western governments was a war of escalation: starting out as a conventional war, but then the introduction of biological and chemical warfare by the Warsaw Pact tipping the balance, with the NATO forces responding in kind. The West, at the outset of any conventional war, had always advocated the non-use of chemical weapons, although they had the stocks available and their armies were trained in their use. But NATO had always worked on the premise that, should the Warsaw Pact decide to use chemical weapons, their response should be nuclear. For all that, governments had dithered. However, with civilian and military casualties mounting, and front lines being pushed back, it forced a far-reaching debate amongst NATO government heads. They had eventually agreed that the US, Great Britain and West Germany would launch a tactical nuclear strike. Once the go-ahead had been given to launch a strike against the Soviet forces that were advancing relentlessly along the entire NATO front in West Germany, the American Government had released the nuclear warheads to their allies.

It had also been agreed that the Soviet Politburo would be notified of the launches within minutes of the missiles leaving their launchers, with a message that stated the following:

Although not wishing to trigger a tactical nuclear exchange on the battlefields of Western Europe, or even escalating to a full strategic nuclear exchange with devastating consequences for both NATO and the Warsaw Pact countries, the United States of America, Great Britain and the Federal Republic of Germany would do so if there was a continuance in the indiscriminate use of Chemical Weapons, which was not only killing soldiers, but thousands of defenceless civilians. These six tactical nuclear strikes will not be replicated, should the Soviet Union, and its allies, cease using these inhumane weapons.

Three countries would participate: Great Britain, West Germany and the United States. Two missile launches would be initiated by each country, targeting predetermined Warsaw Pact targets. It was a gamble. There would be German civilian casualties, but not on the same scale should chemical warfare continue. It was possible that the Soviet Union would initiate their own tactical nuclear strike against the West. The risk of an escalation to a strategic nuclear exchange could still be very much on the cards.

The driver, sitting in the small cab on the front left side of the M752, signalled by his guide, brought the vehicle to a halt, in between two small trees with decent canopies to provide overhead cover. Three hundred metres away, a second vehicle, an M688, with two missile reloads and a loading hoist, reversed amongst some scattered trees, the driver and another soldier quickly draping a camouflage net over it ensuring it was hidden from any prying eyes above. The MGM-52 Lance, was a tactical, surface-to-surface missile. It could be configured to carry both conventional and nuclear warheads in order to provide support for some of the NATO countries, in particular the British, Dutch, Belgian, US and West German armies.

The 15th Missile Battery from 50th Missile Regiment, Royal Artillery, had been given their initial orders and the Lance missiles were now armed with the W70-3 warhead. Using a yield of one kiloton, the neutron bombs, with an enhanced radiation feature, would inflict severe damage on the enemy regiments. 15th Missile Battery had three self-propelled launchers. Two of those would be active very soon. Elsewhere, the three remaining missile batteries were getting ready to support the ground forces in a conventional role.

Ch
apter 21

05
00, 10 JULY 1984. ROMEO-ONE-ONE, 1ST AVRO-VULCAN BOMBER FLIGHT, 1,000 METRES ABOVE THE NETHERLANDS.

THE BLUE EFFECT -13 HOURS

Four hundred kilometres from the target, the three Vulcans dropped to less than 1,000 metres above the ground, using the River Waal as a landmark.

Merritt peered through the cockpit window. There was approximately fifty per cent cloud cover, but through the fleeting gaps he could pick out the occasional feature. The Vulcan dropped lower, levelling out at 600 metres, the pilot wanting to stay beneath any Soviet radars. This was the earliest the aircraft could drop down to this level, as too much low-level flight would have burnt extra fuel.

The crew were tense now, knowing they were getting close to enemy territory, waiting for enemy flak or missiles to come their way. They would be at the drop point very soon. The River Waal turned south, but the flight of Vulcans continued east towards Munster. West of Munster they turned north, skirting Osnabruck to the south. One hundred kilometres out, they made a gentle descent down to 100 metres. The nav-radar, Flight Lieutenant Bell, turned on the Vulcan’s HS2 radar which had been kept silent up until now, not wanting the transmissions to alert the enemy to their presence. At 320 knots, they would be on the target in about ten minutes. Then, all being well, they would catch the Soviets completely by surprise. The pilot now had to focus hard as he prepared to fly nap-of-the-earth. No longer at their cruising ceiling of 13,000 metres, or even a safer height of 1,000 metres, the terrain following radar was needed to aid the pilot in the control of the eighty-ton aircraft. The safety of the aircraft and crew were dependent on it. Pilots referred to it as being ‘down in the weeds’.

The nav-radar officer spoke to the pilot. “Standby for height demand, coming up on Melle.”

“Roger.”

One of the consequences of the bomber’s poor manoeuvrability at low-level was a delay in the controls responding to an NOE demand. The pilot was always given a warning of when the aircraft needed to be pulled up or dropped down.

The nav-plotter adjusted his body until comfortable, lying prone in his position at the lower part of the cockpit from where he would release the bombs. The ground raced past beneath him, the Vulcan barely 100 metres above ground level.

The aircraft captain looked across at his co-pilot and nodded. Nothing needed saying. The AEO would warn them of any SAM radars scanning the skies. The aircraft’s variegated pattern of greys and greens making it difficult for the higher-flying Soviet fighters to see them. Hopefully the land clutter would interfere with their lookdown radars. Soon, the rapidly retreating British forces would be beneath the bomb bays of the Vulcan bombers. Release too soon and the attack bombers would devastate an already battered force. Release too late and they would miss their target, the advancing Soviet army that smelt the blood of victory as they howled after their withdrawing enemy.

Cha
pter 22

050
5, 10 JULY 1984. 662 SQUADRON, 3RD REGIMENT ARMY AIR CORPS. SOUTH OF PORTA WESTFALICA, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT -13 HOURS

The four Lynx Mark 7 helicopters, flying at low level in pairs, followed two Gazelle helicopters that would act as spotters, one for each pair. The pairs separated, moving towards their starting points. Once there, they would wait. The Gazelles, ahead of the TOW armed helicopters, maintaining radio silence, drifted apart, ready to cover a front of two or three kilometres. Their job was to watch and wait. Higher command would have to assume that the Helarm was in position. The helicopters would remain where they were until they received the coded signal to move to their firing positions and unleash their anti-tank weapons.

0505, 10 JULY 1984. 27TH FIELD REGIMENT, ROYAL ARTILLERY. SOUTHWEST OF MINDEN, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT -13 HOURS

On receiving the relevant code word from divisional headquarters, the twenty-four M109s of the three batteries of the 27th Field Regiment, Royal Artillery, pulled out of the wooded areas they had been hiding in. The forest tracks were churned up as the twenty-seven-ton self-propelled artillery came out into the clearings that had already been recce’d, positions for each battery marked out and ready. Then they had to wait for the order from higher headquarters. Timing was critical. The 155mm cannons would soon be firing dual-purpose, improved conventional munitions, DPICMs, onto the enemy, the aim to cripple their advance as they chased after the retreating British unit. This regiment was part of the 4th Armoured Division. They were rested and rearmed after fulfilling their role as the covering force for 1 British Corps. Once the 27th had completed their task, the 47th Field Regiment, their sister unit, would lay a carpet of scatterable mines, FASCAMs, across the route any remaining enemy tanks would take. All they could do now though, was wait. Wait for the next code word authorising their fire mission.

0505, 10 JULY 1984. 197TH GUARDS TANK REGIMENT, 47TH GUARDS TANK DIVISION, 3RD SHOCK ARMY. AREA OF BUCHHOLZ, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT -13 HOURS

The BMP-2s bounced across the open ground. The motor rifle troops in the cramped troop compartments at the rear tensed their bodies yet allowed themselves to be rocked from side to side rather than fighting against the motion. The vanguard of tanks from the 1st Tank Battalion, having crushed the British defenders, a Territorial Army unit, forcing them to flee towards their last bastion, the River Weser, pushed west. A motor rifle company, following two companies of T-80, raced after the enemy forces, their masters pushing them hard, willing them to catch up with the battered British unit and destroy it before it could get to safety on the western bank of this next natural barrier. The Royal Royal Anglian battalion, a Territorial Army unit, hadn’t stood a chance: practically pounded into submission after repeated artillery and air-to-ground strikes. On the other hand, the tank battalion of over twenty T-80 main battle tanks, supported by a motor rifle company from the regiment’s motor rifle battalion, had suffered minor casualties, losing only three tanks and two BMPs. One of the tanks had been halted due to a lost track, attempting to negotiate around the collapsed flyover east of Rinteln, destroyed by British engineers. Soviet engineers in turn had been pushed forward to clear a route. Once past the blockage, west of a large quarry south of the Autobahn, they could press on. The Soviet tank crews had exhibited no signs of pretence that they were advancing carefully. Engines raced, powering the forty-two ton giants as they crashed through treelines and crushed wooden fences, and even a small barn was partly demolished in their haste to close the gap. The whip had been cracked, and an entire battalion, along with additional supporting forces, was racing for the gap created by the retreating army.

Yes, they suspected a trap. Their regimental and divisional headquarters expected a trap. But they were confident that there were too few enemy troops to make much of an impact, particularly as they were reserve troops, civilians in uniform, they had been told by their political officers. They would be no match for the forces of the Motherland. The defence put up by the British had surprised the Soviet vanguard. Despite being hit by a forty-minute artillery and missile barrage, followed up with an attack by ground-attack aircraft, the soldiers of the Royal Anglians had still given the Soviets a bloody nose, but had suffered heavy casualties themselves. It was questionable as to whether or not they could have survived a second assault of that magnitude, but they were never asked to find out.

The Soviets were walking into a trap, but not one they were expecting. The British TA unit had withdrawn at precisely the right time: at a time when a second, probably stronger, assault by the Soviet forces was expected.

Colonel Barbolin, commander of 197th GTR, ordered his advance battalion, along with the motor rifle company, to push forward, follow the autobahn and cross the gap over the Wesergebirge, then head west for Lohfeld. His second battalion and the motor rifle company, which he was leading, the battalion commander killed earlier, would follow. Once through the gap, they would target Mollbergen and his third battalion, with the remaining motor rifle company, would secure Eisbergen to the south. His regiment would then be within four to five kilometres of the River Weser to the west.

26th Tank Regiment had a different mission. Close behind, once the way was clear, they would follow across the high ground of the Wesergebirge, using the A2 Autobahn, and head straight for Porta Westfalica. 47th Guards Tank Division’s mission was not to attempt to cross the Weser but to go through the motions of preparing to do so between Porta Westfalica in the north and Vlotho in the south. The purpose was to increase the pressure on the British forces. Should a crossing prove possible, and higher command allowed it, the division could project its forces across the river.

Barbolin contacted his forward battalion, keen to ensure that he and the second battalion weren’t dropping too far behind. “One-Zero, this is Zero-Alpha. What is your position? Over.”

There was a five-second delay before any response.

“One-Zero…
crackle
…north Luhden…Crossroad’s a mess…suggest you…north Buchholz….Over.”

“Engineers at location? Over.”

“Yes, but…
crackle
…need time. Over.”

“Hold north of Todenmann and wait. Out.”

Barbolin cursed at the delay and indicated for his driver to head northwest towards Buchholz. He then contacted the rest of his formation to do the same. He pushed his shoulders through the hatch, checking the ground ahead as they crossed an open field. He kept his forces moving forward at speed, suspecting, yet unsuspecting; comfortable that nothing could stop them now. In fact, he was confident the division could reach the River Weser without stopping. The British didn’t have a unit this side of the river that was actually capable of stopping the regiment’s seventy-plus tanks and additional BMP-2s. He believed that there was nothing between his unit and the river.

0520, 10 JULY 1984. 1ST BATTALION, 197TH GUARDS TANK REGIMENT, 47TH GUARDS TANK DIVISION, 3RD SHOCK ARMY. NORTHWEST OF TODENMANN, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT -13 HOURS

Lieutenant-Colonel Kovrov, commander of the 1st Tank Battalion, ordered his driver to ease the T-80K forward another metre, the barrel of the 125mm gun poking through the other side of the line of trees. Once across the high ground, he had moved his unit off the Autobahn, where they would be sitting ducks if they remained. Out to his front-right, he could see an uncultivated field, and to his front-left a field with row upon row of what looked like the green foliage of a root vegetable. The German farmer wouldn’t be harvesting any of it this year that was for certain. Kovrov had just been informed that his regimental commander, along with the 2nd Tank Battalion, had skirted north of the E8/A2 crossroads and was preparing to move along the Autobahn behind him. The artillery battalion, with its twelve 122mm self-propelled howitzers, would form up east of Buchholz, ready to support the regiment when called upon. One platoon of six guns had been lost as a consequence of some effective counter-battery fire from the British. Their 175mm M107s, although not the most accurate of weapons, had a range of nearly forty kilometres. The platoon of Soviet 2S1s had been too slow in relocating after firing and was destroyed by the heavyweight shells.

Kovrov’s headphones crackled, and he received orders to move out, protecting the right flank of the regiment’s advance. He ordered 1st Company to go right, in formation with a platoon of BMP-2s, and he would lead the 2nd Company across the field of root vegetables with the 3rd Company following as the reserve. He felt the edge of the hatch dig into his back as the T-80K powered forward.

0525, 10 JULY 1984. 662 SQUADRON, 3RD REGIMENT ARMY AIR CORPS. SOUTH OF PORTA WESTFALICA, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT -13 HOURS

“Hawk-One and Two, this is Buzzard-One. You have business coming your way. Over.”

“Hawk-One. Roger.”

“Hawk-Two. Acknowledged.”

“Hawk-One, Hawk-Two. Three, Tango-Eight-Zero. Two thousand metres Red-Bravo.”

“Hawk-One. Understood.”

“Hawk-Two. Roger.”

The two hovering Lynx helicopters now knew the enemy tanks were north of Eisbergen, and it was time for them to go into action. The Helarm had been initiated as a last resort, to blunt the attack of the massed line of tanks that were steadily rolling towards the Weser. Another pair of Lynx was positioned further north, and one pair was covering the road that ran parallel with the northern bank of the River Weser to the south. Hawk-One and Two, in the hover, slowly rose above the treeline that had been concealing them. The co-pilot, using the roof-mounted sights, zoomed in on the armour heading towards them, the tanks weaving around dips and potential barriers as they advanced, turrets swivelling as the gunner’s turned their main guns towards where a potential threat could be waiting to ambush them.

“Hawk-Two, Hawk-One. I’ll take right.”

“Roger, Hawk-One.”

Staff-Sergeant Hill, the gunner sitting in the left seat of Hawk-One, looked at the pilot. They were both ready. They were going into battle for the first time since the war started. Up until this moment, they had been held back in reserve. But now a Helarm had been requested, and they would get the chance to make their contribution and let the Soviet armour know the tables were about to be turned. He turned back to the weapon sights and prepared to fire. Once the target crossed the 1,500-metre line, the TOW missile was launched.

0530, 10 JULY 1984. 1ST BATTALION, 197TH GUARDS TANK REGIMENT. NORTH OF EISBERGEN, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT -12.5 HOURS

Kovrov flinched as to his right one of his tanks flared up, flashes and sparks thrown up and out into the air, followed by billowing black, oily smoke as the T-80 skewed to the right before labouring to a halt. The shock wave of the explosion reached him, taking his breath away. His head snapped left as a second tank was struck by a TOW missile’s extended probe. The 5.9kg warhead detonated, the shaped-charge jet-formed and, at hypersonic speed, twenty-five times the speed of sound, the stream of heated material penetrated the armour, killing the crew inside. Two more missiles were launched from the pair of helicopters. Once clear of the launch tubes, the four short wings sprang out, and the tail controls to the rear sprung open. The two gunners, using a small joystick, kept the crosshairs on their respective target and, five seconds later, two more tanks were hit. This time, though, the TOWs were less successful, the explosive reactive armour fulfilling its intended role. On one, the outward explosion deformed the jet enough to prevent it penetrating through the turret. On the second, although one of the ERA plates did its job, the molten jet still managed to damage the turret ring enough to lock it in place. The crew survived, but the T-80 would need to be recovered and repaired.

“One-Zero call signs weave, weave for God’s sake. Weave. Six-One-Zero and Six-Two-Zero, this is One-Zero. Contact, contact. Where the hell are you?”

“One-Zero, Six-One-Zero. Six-One-One hit. Moving forward.”

“Hurry. Six-Two-Zero, report!”

“One-Zero, Six-Two-One engaging now.”

Far off to the right, where his flanking company was on the move, a flash caught his eye as another tank was hit. Kovrov cursed, angry that he hadn’t brought his air defence forward sooner. He had just lost one of his ZSU 23/4s. Another lost the previous day; he desperately hoped the remaining two could do something. The three SA-9 mounted BRDM-2s were also moving forward to give cover. He nearly slipped down into the turret as the driver swerved the tank violently to the right, doing his best to make them as difficult a target as possible. Kovrov pulled himself back into position as a blurred object shot by, striking the tank just behind to his left. The missile had detonated, but the reactive armour again defeated its effect, the tank surviving to fight another day.

0535, 10 JULY 1984. 662 SQUADRON, 3RD REGIMENT ARMY AIR CORPS. SOUTH OF PORTA WESTFALICA, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT -12.5 HOURS

“Hawk-Two, Hawk-One. Moving.”

Hawk-One dropped back down behind the trees just as the Gazelle, Buzzard, took up a position 200 metres to the right, ready to plot the movement of the armour as the two Lynx moved further back to new positions. Two missiles fired. It was time to relocate.

A flash of light swamped the gunner’s view, overpowering the sight of his left eye as Hawk-Two, struck by a surface-to-air missile, fired by an SA-9 Gaskin, erupted into a multi-coloured, glowing cloud, as the explosion tore it apart. The two-and-half kilogram Frag-He warhead had struck the Lynx directly at the point where the fuel tanks were positioned.

“Christ!” Shouted Staff-Sergeant Hill as he watched the Lynx plummet to the ground, a much larger explosion engulfing the helicopter’s body as over 300 litres of fuel exploded, a tower of flame and smoke pirouetting upwards. There would be no survivors. The pilot couldn’t look. His focus had to be on getting them away and into their next location.