[IC] Able Archer: 1983

[SyrianHamster]

Marching Orders

Five Miles West of Scherwin

Eckhardt Greiter was unnerved by the situation, to say the least. The entire regiment had suddenly been ordered to mobilize at 0800 that morning, and five hours later, the first of the men had started to disembark from the massive column of ural-4320s that had driven all the way from Potsdam. Thousands of East Germans, all in their muddy green combat fatigues and kitted for war, were amassing in their droves. This was highly unconventional, and what troubled the young Feldwebel more than the apparent haste his regiment had been obliged with, was the fact he had received so little information about what was happening. Even his immediate superiors seemed clueless when he chanced the all important question of "Why are we here?"

There had been no scheduled drills, or exercises, which whilst not uncommon under the leadership of his Soviet masters, was made all the more strange by the apparent presence of what he guessed to be the entire northern army. The air was thick with Mi's of all varieties, and they buzzed violently across the sky; some descending to deliver officers and equipment, others emerging with their weapon systems fully stocked and operational. As he shielded his eyes from an unusually high Winter's sun, he spotted a squadron of Migs rocketing their way towards West Germany.

Was this another posturing? He had heard rumours that NATO had been particularity bold in recent months, and there was talk of foreign jets piercing Soviet airspace and then withdrawing rapidly as if they were testing for weaknesses. Maybe the boys up top had decided that enough was enough, and that the capitalist swines needed showing that the East was a giant best left asleep.

Leutnant Meirs Kezwig, Eckhardt's platoon commander, appeared from the chaos of men and munitions and marched over to him. It seemed that answers were about to be given.

"Greiter, what kind of circus do you think we're running here?" barked Meirs; his face twisted in blazing anger.

"Sir?"

"Where's the men? Where the FUCK is my platoon?" Meirs screamed. Vissible spittle blasted from the man's mouth, and splashed over Eckhardt.

"Disembarking, sir," replied Eckhardt, attempting to keep his calm.

"We should have headed out fifteen minutes ago. This wont do, this won't fucking do!"

"I will go and help get the me-"

"No, Greiter, you're not helping anyone. I hold you responsible for this delay," said Meirs, his lips trembling and his red face a fitting tribute to the national colours of his overlords.

"No excuse sir," replied Eckhardt. Well, he had several excuses, the main one being that he was just a Feldwebel - and one of many. Why was it down to him to single-handedly manage the troop train?

Meirs waved a hand at him in irritation. "Who do we have?"

Eckhardt turned and pointed to the nine soldiers of his assigned rifle squad, that had travelled with him from Potsdam after a messy unit assignment. He knew none of them, and was fairly sure he had ended up with soldiers from another platoon - or regiment.

"That will do. Get yourself some wheels, and roll out," said Meirs, somehow calm and collected despite his drama moments earlier.

Eckhardt snapped up a salute. "Yes sir. Where am I going, sir?"

Meirs lost his momentary calm, and reverted back to the primal beast of a man that he was. Short, fat and untidy, Meirs was the very thing the West repeatedly mocked the GDR's army for. He was no soldier. No. Just a favoured Party Member with a bit of political sway. He was obviously panicking, which was why he had singled out Eckhardt as a target for his illogical fury. He yelled words that Eckhardt could not understand, and stomped his feet like a child. After a few moments of this tantroum, he pointed across the muster field.

Rows upon rows of SPz BMP-2s - an apparent upgrade to the BMP-1s the young Feldwebel was used to working with - were parked and motionless. Beyond them, two dozen of T-72s were firing up their enginies, emitting a huge ugly smog of choking diesel into the cloudless sky.

"Follow them," Meirs said, sneering.

"Just follow them, sir?"

"Did I fucking stutter Feldwebel?"

"No sir, no you di-"

"Shut the fuck up. When this is done, I'll see to it that you're assigned toilet hygiene duties for the rest of your fucking natural life," screamed Meirs, poking a stubby finger into the Feldwebel's chest.

"Our objective, sir?"

"Just follow the fucking convoy, you'll get your sitrep enroute. Now go, fucking go! Let me sort out this rabble," said Meirs, turning to walk away before Eckhardt could chance his luck further with more questions.

With a heavy sigh, the Feldwebel turned to his squad, and nodded. "You heard the Leutnant, gear up and let's go."

The men hesitated at first; some because they hadn't finished snickering at Eckhardt's treatment by the platoon commander, and some because they were genuinely scared by what was happening. He paid them no heed either way, and quickly shooed them all towards the nearest SPz BMP-2 with threats of punishment. As he entered the vehicle, he cast one glance behind him to take in the scene of an entire army preparing for war, and shuddered.

[Gunther]

Lucius D. Clay Kaserne
Garlstedt, Germany

Four days earlier...
"Monday I want everyone in the motor pool. We need to make sure the tracks are at a hundred percent. We are participating in Operation Able Archer in two weeks," Captain Stewart addressed the assembled group including the company executive officer, first sergeant, platoon leaders, and platoon sergeants in his office on a Friday afternoon. B Company, was one of four line companies in 3rd Battalion 41st Infantry (Mechanized) in the 2nd Armor Division (Forward) or 3rd Brigade assigned to the Kaserne in Northern Germany. The Brigade was planning to travel to their General Deployment Position (GDP) and fight a BLUFOR - OPFOR battle with some of the other NATO units in Northern Germany.

"As you all know, we will initially act as OPFOR for the Dutch 41st Armor Brigade, a Bundeswehr Panzergrenadier Brigade and a British Armor Brigade. Then three weeks into the rotation, we move to BLUFOR and the Germans assume the role of OPFOR. I want all our equipment squared away. Use this time to take care of business." OPFOR is the acronym used for Opposing Forces and BLUFOR represents Friendly forces. Often times, units act as OPFOR for one another during Force on Force training in order to provide realism to the training. The units plan to use the Multiple Integrated Laser Engagement System (MILES) in order to determine hits and misses during training. MILES works two-fold; first, each soldier wears a harness with several receptacles on the torso and helmet and each vehicle mounts side straps with receptacles attached. An onboard computer determines what type of weapon fires at it and informs the crew if their vehicle is disabled. There is a yellow light attached to the top of the vehicle which flashes if the vehicle is disabled or destroyed. The crew, if they perish, remains with the vehicle until an Observer/Controller (O/C) has cleared them to move back toward friendly lines. The other aspect of MILES, is a laser transmitter is attached to the barrel or muzzle of a weapon system and transmits a laser beam every time a high intensity noise passes it. The loud noise is generated by blank cartridge for rifles and machine guns and a special Hoffman tank gunfire simulator for tank main guns. Blank cartridges and Hoffman simulators create the sound emitted by the weapon system and trigger the laser for the MILES transmitter. The Observer/Controllers are either battalion or brigade primary and special staff officers and NCOs.

Captain Stewart went on to discuss Non-Commissioned Officer Evaluation Reports (NCO-ERs) that were due to Battalion as soon as possible (ASAP) and briefly touched on a planned training meeting coming up next week to discuss the next training cycle. When the meeting was over, the assembled officers and NCOs, stood, rendered a hand salute to the "Old Man" and left the room.

"First Sergeant?" Captain Stewart called to his Company First Sergeant. At 29 years old, Captain Stewart was referred to as the Old Man an American expression for a unit commander dating back to the 18th or 19th century. The US Army is steeped in tradition.

"Yes, sir," First Sergeant Marsh clicked his heels, simulating coming to the position of attention. Something he did not have to do, but did anyway. At 35 years old, First Sergeant Marsh was the oldest man in the Company, the senior NCO, who actually ran the company. The Old Man simply got the credit for everything his NCO corps did and the blame for what they failed to do.

"First Sergeant, have you spoken with Sergeant Carlson yet?"

"Sir, I intend to speak to him in the next thirty minutes," the first sergeant responded. They were talking about an NCO who they recently discovered, received a positive report on a recent random Urinalysis test. The US Army implemented a random drug search and urinalysis system to help stop the drug problem plaguing many of the American Army units stationed in Germany in 1983. Drug sniffing dogs, guided by Military Police Officers conducted random searches of the soldiers' barracks while they slept. The dogs sniffed wall lockers, looking for drugs and the Drug Control Officer, first lieutenant Cole would administer a urinalysis test at random times throughout the year. Sergeant Carlson received a positive result. The problem with this, the Army's policy on an NCO receiving a positive report meant he was automatically separated from service and would receive a less than honorable discharge, which could be upgraded to Honorable six months after discharge if the soldier wished to do so. For lower enlisted soldiers, they were counseled, received an Article 15 and given time to rehabilitate themselves. An Article 15 is a non-judicial punishment including the loss of one month's pay and loss of one pay grade. If a soldier failed an additional urinalysis, they would then be separated from the Army.

"Thanks, top. Keep me informed," The CO stated and then the first sergeant went to his office.

Three Days Later...
"Did you hit all those lube points?" Staff Sergeant Beaudoin asked, referring to the lubrication points on the M113 Armored Personnel Carrier the soldiers of his Section would need to push grease into with a grease gun.

"Yes, Staff Sergeant," Specialist Mark Rose of Biloxi, Mississippi answered. "We was going to break some track and replaced those worn pads."

"OK, Rose. Why don't you let those other fud puckers do that, you come with me." Specialist Rose fell in with Staff Sergeant Beaudoin and headed off to speak with the Lieutenant.

After they left, Private First Class Antoin Thomas of Baltimore, Maryland asked the other soldiers of his team, "Did you hear what happened to Sergeant Carlson?"

"No man, what that niggah do now?" Private Felton, an African American from Atlanta, Georgia asked.

"He popped hot on a piss test. He's gone, bro."

"Straight up?"

"Word."

"Shit. That's some fucked up shit, man."

"You tellin' me." The two African American soldiers along with the other three soldiers worked on replacing track pads on their M113, bumper # B-13. They were member of Staff Sergeant Robert Beaudoin's 1st Team, 2nd Section.

Meanwhile,
"Specialist Rose, you are going to be TC on the Lieutenant's fifty when he dismounts." The section sergeant referred to the position of Track Commander and the fifty caliber machine gun mounted on the track.

"What happened to Sergeant Carlson?"

"Consider him ETS'd," the section sergeant responded.

"I hear he popped hot on a piss test."

The Staff Sergeant looked at Specialist Rose with a smile, "See, you're smarter than you look, Corporal."

Mark Rose didn't pick up on the word, Corporal right away and asked, "Why did the Lieutenant pick me?"

"Three reasons, you keep your nose clean, you just re-enlisted for another three years and he trusts you," Staff Sergeant Beaudoin told it straight to the 21-year old infantryman.

"Wait, Corporal!?" Mark Rose finally picked up on the section sergeant calling him by the new rank.

Contact, Action Right!



The first indication something was afoot was the number of combat aircraft taking to the skies over East Germany and Czechoslovakia shortly after 0130 hours. 7th Army Headquarters in Heidelberg, Germany received the report at 0136 which was logged immediately. The American 7th Army Commander was notified along with his staff. The Battle Captain in the 7th Army Operations Center contacted VII Corps, V Corps and 2nd Armor Division (Forward) at Garlstedt, Germany by landline (telephone) of the alert. This was no drill. Each of the Corps Commands would notify their divisions and the Division Operations Centers would notify their Brigades and on down the Chain of Command.

Captain Stewart received a phone call from LTC Mason to put his company on alert. He grabbed his call list and started calling platoon leaders, Charge of Quarters at the barracks and the First Sergeant. By 0220 hours, everyone in the chain of command was notified. For the soldiers of B Company 3rd Battalion 41st IN (M), SSG Garrison was on CQ duty. He would knock and open each door in the barracks and yell, "Lariat Advance! Lariat Advance!" This warning alerted all soldiers of the company that they were to wake up, get dressed, grab their ruck sacks and duffel bags and head to the Motor park. The ruck sack would go on their tracked vehicle with them while the duffels would be stacked on the company deuce and half.

The order had been issued, the Soviets and their East German lackies were coming across the one K zone. Everyone was to move to their General Deployment Positions. All personal possessions not going to the front were locked in a footlocker to be shipped home at the earliest convenience. Spouses and all non-essential personnel were cleared out of the housing area and sent back to the United States of America. The day we all have been waiting for, finally arrived. the US and the USSR were at war.



By 0900, the 3rd Battalion was in its GDP awaiting instructions. By 1000 hours, B Company was ordered to report to the Battalion Commander of the 2nd Battalion, 66th Armor, Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin Funari. By 1400 hours, Captain Stewart was instructed to give up his 3rd Platoon and by 1430 hours, 2nd Lieutenant Frances Leahy of Worcester, Massachusetts reported to Captain Tom Stewart of Boston. Lieutenant Leahy brought four M60A3 Main Battle Tanks with him. Captain Stewart gave the 22-year old lieutenant a place on the line to cover. The S2 said it would be still another 60 - 70 hours or more before the East Germans reached their positions north of Lauenburg on the north edge of the Elbe River. By 1600 hours, Staff Sergeant Ray Nolan, 3rd Squad Leader, 3rd Platoon, D Company, 17th Engineers reported for duty. He would begin working on an obstacle plan as soon as possible. By 1730 hours, 1st Lieutenant Greg Butanowicz, Fire Support Officer for the newly formed Team Bravo, 3-41 IN (M) was ready for action. The Battalion staff for the 2-66 AR would be ready to issue their Operations Order at 1800 hours. Captain Stewart would attend with first Lieutenant Joel Cole (XO), Lieutenant Butanowicz (FSO), SSG Nolan (ENG) and First Sergeant Marsh (Co 1SG).

It was almost 2100 hours when the meeting was over and LTC Funari had a solid plan for the Battalion Task Force which included three companies of Armor, one company of mech infantry, a 4.2" mortar platoon and its inherent Scout Platoon. C Company, 2-66 AR had been detached to 3-41 IN (M). Team Alpha would be main effort with three platoons of Armor, one platoon of Mech Infantry (3/B/3-41 IN), FIST and a squad of Engineers. Team Tank consisted of two platoons of B Company, 2-66 AR and one platoon of M901 Improved Tow Vehicles from 3-41 IN (M), D Company (-) consisted of two platoons of Armor with no attachments. The Mortar Platoon, Scout platoon and 3rd platoon, D Company would be retained under Battalion Task Force Control.

During the ride back to Team Bravo's GDP, Captain Stewart came up with a tentative plan based on the operations order. He issued a Warning Order and Fragmentation Order immediately upon arrival at the Company Command Post (CP) and by 2300 hours, Team Bravo was moving to their assigned Battle Position. During the trip there, Captain Stewart worked on the Operations Order in the back of the M113 while Corporal Rose manned the .50 caliber Machine Gun in the TC's seat.

By zero dark thirty, the Company Team arrived at their Battle Position north of Lauenburg. Captain Stewart began assigning sectors to the platoons instructing them not to dig in yet. Once the company was in position, the three Platoon leaders, three Platoon sergeants, FSO, Engineer squad leader, supply sergeant, XO and Company First Sergeant all met at the rear of the Commander's track to listen to his hastily thrown together Operations Order. The Company Team would begin digging in at 0300 hours, 24 hours after the alert had gone out. Even in a Lightning strike, it takes time for all the components to move into place. Besides the East Germans moving across the 1K zone were currently tied up with The 16th/5th The Queen's Royal Lancers were keeping the East Germans busy in five squadron formations composed of Chieftain FV4201 Main Battle Tanks and FV432 Armoured Personnel Carriers which were supported by RAF Hawks and Harriers as well as West German F-104 Starfighters and F4 Phantoms and of course American F16s and A-10s which would provide Close Air Support and Air Interdiction missions along their route of advance with American, German and British Interceptors flying Air Control Missions over the Area of Operations (AO).

North of Lauenburg along the Kanal, 0545 Hours 13 Nov 83
Stand To
Team Bravo established a battle position overlooking the north south canal leading north from the Elba River. The rest of 3rd Brigade or 2nd Armor Division (Forward) deployed to their right and left from the Elbe River to Mölln in the north. Captain Stewart placed his tanks on the high ground overlooking the canal. They would be able to fire down on any crossing point the enemy chose to make. 1st Platoon dismounted and occupied defensive fighting positions near the southern bridge at Lanzer See in order to prevent the enemy from crossing the bridge. 2nd Platoon defended the Route 5 Bridge leading into Lauenburg from the east. A Company occupied the city of Lauenburg and D Company defended to the north of Lanzer See.

The Battalion Scout Platoon would conduct reconnaissance and surveillance of the region on the east side of the canal and assist the British Recce squadron in conducting its passage of friendly lines. The Battalion Scouts would cross with the British Recce and occupy one of the three Battle Positions on order. The Battalion Commander with the Tactical Operations Center (TAC) would occupy the battle position with Team Bravo's tanks in the center in order to best observe the enemy's crossing of the canal. The Battalion's Tactical Operation Center (TOC) would occupy a position inside the town of Bergedorf. The Combat Trains contained the battalion's Medical Evacuation Section, four ambulances, four Vehicles, Tracked Recovery (VTR), four Maintenance Contact Teams and the Administration and Logistics Operations Center - Forward (ALOC - Fwd). The Combat Trains was located on the western edge of Lauenburg. The Field trains consisting of the battalion's mess section, supply sergeants, Maintenance platoon and POL sections was located about 30 kilometers to the west in the southeast edge of Hamburg near an old airfield. This is the site of the Brigade Support Area (BSA) which contained all the logistics support for 3rd Brigade, 2nd Armor Division (Forward).

By the time the East German Combat Reconnaissance Patrol neared the Elbe River and the north south canal, the Battalion Task Force was dug in and conducting routine Recon and Security patrols across the canal. The patrols consisted of platoon-sized elements of mechanized infantry and armor. At night, the infantry conducted squad sized dismounted patrols consisting of 8 - 12 soldiers per patrol.

[FourtyTwo]

5km South of of Wismar, East Germany
2nd "Błyskawica" Battalion , 6th Airborne Brigade

Some shitty Polish music played in the helicopter, over the loudspeaker, as the helicopters flew in about 50m over the water, the forested area below close to the lake a nice area, in this nice winter's day. The Pilot in particular liked this, as the Mi-24W, both the doors in the back opened up to let some air in. The other chopper was keeping formation, and also had it's doors open, the two Hinds above Lake Schwerin imposing enough, and they were Polish.
"We need to turn this shit off, badly. Put a cassette of some Led Zep in, I tell you." Janusz said, the helicopters banked right, headed towards the coast, and moreover, to the bank of the lake where the battalion of paratroopers had set up.
"Ah, you know what would happen though, Sierżant- they'd cut us open when we arrived. Plus the pilot likes this, and I don't want a pissed off pilot." Michal said, the second in command, as the soldier behind him, Viktor, looked back. He had a PKM in his hands, pointed downwards of course, laughing a little at it.
"Oh come on, you know what it is like. Those American war movies, when they are in Vietnam, music from two decades ago playing from their helicopters. Haha, those fuckers actually lost against people with Chinese replicas! Pew pew pew!" Viktor laughed, as he aimed his PKM out the door, making the noise that brought most of the squad inside to laugh at least to some degree, Michal a little more serious.
"I'm just saying, it would't work, we'd have our balls in our mouths. Sierżant, what's our plan of action after we hit the concrete?" Michal asked, as the helicopter slowed down, headed right for the landing zone.
"Battalion commander will update us on the situation, we've got work to do. Be ready for combat- things look shitty, looks like we're going to get deployed with the Hinds, so expect the worst. "

This place wasn't on an airfield- it was within a large former Nazi military compound south of Wismar itself, that had been one of the last to surrender in the Second World War. Particularly, it was a significant Polish deployment base, from which Błyskawica was deployed from, or at least, a large proportion of it. The base was quite an open area, but heavily fenced, and was predominantly a military heliport of sorts, with a very short open concrete landing zone that most helicopters came down on and moved to park from. The Hind's landing gear came down, as they hit the floor, the helo still moving as they rolled a little, pulling slightly to a small grass section, the other Hind following in neatly, as their own came to a stop.
"All out! Go, go!" The helicopter stopped, as Janusz led the way, the other one coming over, as the blades of the Mi-24 kept spinning, before slowly shutting down, the helicopter armed to the teeth, being a new addition to the Polish People's Army. Walking away from the helicopter, Fireteam Czerwone in tow, he moved out from the landing zone to regroup with the other team, Janusz himself carrying his AKMS and RPG-72 on his back, seeing the other fireteam disembark. It was risky getting both the first and second in command in one helicopter, but it was something that had resulted from the other fireteam being collected from elsewhere, following a mess of a redeployment. Now, they were regrouping as their regular force, and Janusz was in command.
"On me, lads." Janusz added, as they headed towards the interior of the base, Mi-17s flying past, as Janusz kept his eye out for the Battalion commander, They were getting briefed and readied, as the first forces on the ground following the Special Forces and other rapid deployment forces in area.

The situation to the Poles had come clear, and it seemed pretty harrowing. NATO had attacked the Warsaw Pact's forces and were infringing on their territory, at least 5 kilometers in, apparently. It meant war- and retaliation had to be swift and decisive. It was what they planned for, but co-ordination was key. The briefing had been to the point, and the dark grey Moro camoflage that Janusz's unit wore told most what they needed to know, about their role. Not special forces, but the first to fight, and a Hammer blow of a force when deployed correctly. They moved back to the helicopters, Janusz clear he'd have a brief quickly over with his men, though the noise was pretty bad.
"As you heard, we're moving to Lubeck Airfield, to take out any NATO fast air that isn't already engaging ours, and to take the airfield as an operational asset for us. The runway there is important, and roughly a couple of platoons are deployed there. We're going to be calling both our Su-25 fighter support thanks to our friendly Soviets, and we know that most major SAM and Anti-Aircraft has been dealt with- but not all. Special Forces already made a dent in the side of some NATO operations near Lubeck- though the harbor there has been wrecked it seems, and if it's Scorched Earth that NATO want to play, we're in a race to keep this airfield intact. The helicopters will continue to provide fire support for us- but we'll have a 800m hike to reach our OP, expect a rough landing." Janusz said, as he checked his AKMS again, looking to the choppers.
"We've identified a clearing, and 6th, 7th and 8th Platoons of the Battalion are support units, working from the north-east and the south-east of the airfield. We go from the West- and strike right into the defunctional terminal and main core of operations. The platoons will have little armored support on hand, and aerial support is unavailible- let's make it happen, lads. Bialy, you take that Hind, we'll take this one Czerwone. Let's go!" Janusz said, as they moved with a certain pace, the helicopters firing up, as the two Hinds were quickly back in the air, the noise of jets and other helicopters filling the air. The rest of the airmobile company in particular were using Mi-17 "Hip" Helicopters, for a greater capacity, and within minutes, they were making huge headway.

"Command receiving, this is Mlotek Actual, we're in the 1K zone, we are roughly five minutes out to Landing Zone Goral, over."
"Understood Mlotek, continue as planned. Get your Forward Controller in the team to ready the Close Air firemissions when needed ,we have a limited set of close support available over the next half an hour on Lubeck Airfield. Resistance should be minimal- most aircraft have either been destroyed on the taxiway, or are airborne. Airspace is contested, but we have friendly aircraft en route to reaffirm and hold the airspace over your region." Battalion command replied, the doors on the Mi-24 shut for good reason- this was a combat helicopter, and the use of munitions within it, without the ear defenders, would leave them deaf.
"Affirmative, loud and clear. Mlotek Actual out." Janusz said, as they crossed the border, headed over a canal diverted from the mighty Elbe river.
"Two minutes to LZ! We're flagging enemy UH-1 aircraft, standby..." Janusz heard, as suddenly, the noise of a loud whoosh could be heard of a single , as the helicopter flanked hard left, and the other hard right. They pulled in close, and despite countermeasures, the two UH-1 Iroquois were quickly swept off, perhaps not realizing that the combination of the Polish, Soviet and GDR armies were now sweeping in both on land and air in a big, big way.

The Mi-24 rocked a little, as the pilot dumped speed and kept the chopper low, now almost brushing the pines as they swept round, circumnavigating the airfield from the south, as they approached a reasonable clearing, that was able to accommodate two Hinds, but probably nothing larger than that. The gear went down again, and the doors opened, the men inside quiet, due to the loud nature of the chopper.
"Go, go!" Janusz said, as his team disembarked, the helicopter taking flight above the treeline again, the noise of the frontal Yak-B cannon erupted, and in a loud way.
"The fuck's going on!" Jakub yelled, one of his men, as the helicopter kept on engaging, the other one landing rapidly and almost too rapidly, as the men emerged, and moved quickly, the helicopter leaving the ground.
"Crap...this isn't good. Biskup (Bishop, Mi-24W Section), what the fuck is actually going on?" Janusz asked, as Michal got his end of the fireteam ready, the six men covering an area ahead, as Michal looked to his.
"We're seeing enemy movements directly west of you, seems like we were loud and bought your attention, we guess around half a platoon's worth of movement and they've got us in view. We need to replan our flight path and provide fire from a different angle. They're moving through the pine forests, towards the airfield peremeter fence about 200m east of you- there's a forest between then and there, we can send a few S-8 salvos to keep them off your back. How copy Mlotek?"
"Understood, Biskup, we're working on it. Continue with fire support, waste these men and keep any mechanized units from our back. We'll do the rest, thanks for the heads up." Janusz said, as he looked over.
"Everyone, ready for contact front! Looks like we have them loud and clear, let's not let them down. Machinegunners, stick on the flanks and keep up the main volley of fire from a fixed position- everyone else, keep advancing and use the trees for cover! We'll let our Hinds sweep the worst, and we'll cut down the rest!" Janusz added, as he moved out, the squad moving quickly as they headed through the forest at a combat pace, the noise of heavy gunfire right close to them and above them evident. British soldiers could be seen ahead- they looked like they were British Army, and by no doubt, not a part of this exercise. And sure as hell, they knew that this was a Warsaw Bloc advance. Their vehicles had been torn apart, but they were moving from the tented command post on the southern end of the taxiway, to where the Poles were waiting. And what the Hinds didn't clear, the Poles did.

[Pepschep]

17:00, November 6th, 1983.

To drink or not to drink, that was the question. The 41st was well aware that at 0230 tomorrow they had to get up and join a massive military drill. "Able Archer" they called it, and it was to be bigger than anything before. Leaders would go into hiding, entire armies would be put on alert, radio silence was to be maintained. It was as realistic as it could get, but they knew it was coming. So the crew of 'Henk de Tank', officially named 'Curtis' by the commander, went down to the cafetaria under the barracks. As they went into the door, Blue Monday by New Order blasted and the smell of beer, tobacco, and deep-frying fat filled the air. Looking at the rest of the guys, Hendrik spoke up. "Wat nemen we? Pizza'tje?"

"Ik heb liever een flinke bak friet." Thus spoke the wise David Sylvian. Or at least he was Sylvian to his friends, a friendly poke at his rather alternative appearance and taste in music.

"We hebben een frituurbak in Henk." His comrade QUintis said, the everpresent smile still plastered across his face.

"... Doe dan meer een pizza'tje, okee."

"Gaat lukken", Hendrik spoke. "Nog wat te zuipen?"

Tom's response, "Bier!", didn't miss a beat.

Hendrik looked at him in a puzzled way. "Zou je nou wel gaan drinken?", he asked." We moeten erg vroeg op"

"Ik ben wel wat meer gewend dan dat, komp helemaal goed!" was the jovial, careless response with a big smile.

"Doe mij ook maar een biertje." Or so spoke Quintis. "Brak ben ik toch wel!"

Sylvian, meanwhile, thought about the implications of consuming alcoholic beverages for a short moment... And decided he'd be better off with soda. "Doe mij maar fris."

"Mietjes!", shouted Thomas, who was promptly slapped on the back of the head by Hendrik, who turned to the rest of the gang. "Zoeken jullie een tafel? Liever niet naast de speakers." He then disappeared in the crowd of soldiers as he walked to the bar. As he disappeared, Tom looked around and spotted four empty spots at a table and rushed towards it. The rest of the gang followed suit, making a beeline for the table lest it be claimed by other people. Sitting was always preferential over standing. It didn't take long before Hendrik, like a waiter, arrived with the drinks. A glass of coca-cola and three beer were quickly served, and he sat down. "Is salami goed? Moet wel, want hij ligt in de oven. Met een kwartiertje is 'ie klaar. Over vreten gesproken, wat hebben jullie ingepakt?"

"Frituurpan onder de ventilatieroosters." Quintis replied. Sylvian nearly spat out his drink. "Je hebt het echt gedaan? /Echt/?"

"Hé, mama heeft me geleerd dat ik niet mag liegen. Als ik iets zeg, meen ik het ook." Quintis cheerfully replied before taking a sip of his beer.

"Brave jongen ben je", Hendrik said. "Wat heb je voor de rest mee?"

"Een flinke voorraad frikandellen en friet. Hebben we iets anders nodig?" The tallest member of the crew responded. "... Misschien iets waar we niet zo dik van worden dat we niet meer door de dakluiken passen."

"Geen zorgen, gozer. We gaan vijf dagen geiten en terug naar de basis. Wat kan er fout gaan?"

"Dat we niet meer door de dakluiken passen. Moeten ze zometeen een gat in de romp snijden om ons eruit te krijgen."

"Hij?" Quintis said, thoroughly amused.

"Dat bedoel ik dus"

"Het zijn wel kleine kutluiken."

"Maar jouw lichaamsomvang is ook een kubieke kilometer"

"Goed punt."

"Heeft iemand nog wat anders ingepakt? Bier? Snoep?"

Thomas looked around. "...Munitie?"

"Tuurlijk hebben we munitie." Sylvian said. "... De helft ervan is vervangen door bier, dat wel. Niet mijn schuld."

"Hoeveel van de hoeveel granaten zijn vervangen door bier?", Thomas asked with a shifty look on his face.

"Ongeveer een kwart, denk ik. De helft was een beetje overdreven."

"Heineken dat is ons bier! Heineken is ons plezier!", Tom and Hendrik toasted. "We hebben toch DAFjes vol munitie."

"Trouwens, met die frituur moet een van ons in de loop ruften en de rookwolk is groot zat", Hendrik spoke in perfect deadpan.

"Is ook zo." Sylvian replied on the most serious tone of voice he could muster.

"Hé, ik ga die pizza halen. Ben d'r zo weer.", Hendrik said as he disappeared into the crowd.

"... Wat moeten we nog doen voordat we gaan?" Quintis asked.

Tom looked around. "Die nicht, Bart. Zou die haarspul hebben?"

"Wie?"

"De schutter die ook bij ons ligt! Die homo!"

"Waarom zouden we haarspul nodig hebben?"

Then Tom looked at David. "We gaan David z'n haar net als David Sylvian doen." Behind them Hendrik nearly dropped the pizza laughing, but he put it down properly.
"Doen!"

"Moeten we ook een Mick Karn hebben." Sylvian simply replied. "Geweldig plan." Quintis said between laughter.

"Ronsel een van die Griekse officieren"

"Moeten we er wel eentje hebben die bas speelt." Quintis said. "Alsof een van die idioten fretloos zou kunnen spelen." Sylvian muttered.

Speaking up, Hendrik cut the pizza with a pair of scissors. "We gaan gewoon je haar fixen. Bart heeft die dingen wel. En anders is er vast een winkeltje dichtbij." Tom looked at him and responded deadpan. "Het is zondag, knurft"

''... Hebben ze Blue Monday op herhalen staan of iets dergelijks?" Sylvian said, looking around.

"Gok het. Nou, eet smakelijk. Ik spreek die nicht nog wel"

---

Also in the barracks, the staff of the 41st Battalion were working tirelessly on preparing the unit for the upcoming exercises. Simulating conventional warfare, Lt Col Van de Kamp was confident of his unit's success in the wargames. They were well-trained and equipped with the Leopard 2, which was the single most-armoured tank in the world. But something bothered Nico. His troops looked...Untidy. Like a bunch of weekend warriors, eating junk food every night. This didn't mix well with hus subconscious ego, in which he wanted to impress the foreign observing officers from Canada to Greece. The 41st represented the Dutch military to them, and the impression they got probably wasn't all that good.

"Within minutes of the alarm being raised, the soldiers will get to their vehicles and we'll go. We go south, to Zeven, then to the east at Tolstedt, and keep rolling towards Lüneburg. Command has informed us that we are to defend there, where the river Elbe and Elbe-Seitenkanal meet. We will be combat ready here in less than five hours". The Battalion Commander was explaining the real war plan to the foreign observers, after he held the same story in Dutch to his staff and squadron commanders. He spoke in a clear, audible, deep voice despite his heavy Dutch accent and his somewhat broken English. We'll be ready to catch any East German assaults if they come. I have confidence that my battalion will do well. If the Russians were really there, we have explosives to blow the bridges up, but command said we won't do that for the game. It's not like driving through a field of crops.

"That said, the tanks will not be right next of the canal. There's not enough trees or other cover there, so we will be spreading between Lüneburg and Artlenburg. The area here is farmland with lots of irrigation and roads. Tricky for tanks to maneuver through, and very flat with high visibility. It's a perfect killing field."

---

The sleeping quarters of the Seedorf barracks were divided into eight-man rooms. The crew of Curtis shared it with another tank's crew, the gunner of which was Bart Vermeer. The definition of sassy, and an open homosexual on top of that, it came in very handy. After Tom broke the idea, he put his connections to work and acquired all the stuff needed to give David the hairdo of David Sylvian at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1982.

"Je haar is hier echt ideaal voor", he told Sylvian as he was styling his hair. "De kleur is ook verbazingwekkend snel goed gekomen"

"Nou, ik vind het niet erg om eventjes nachtbraker te spelen. Ben ik al op", Hendrik said. "Kan ik ook even de laatste dingen doornemen." He took a swig of his coffee and looked out of the window.

"Ja ja, schiet nou maar op. Ik begin me nichterig te voelen." Sylvian said. While usually friendly, if guarded, shortage of sleep would quickly ruin his mood. "... Hebben we de gitaren al in de tank geladen?"

"Ja, lauw met de pook", Hendrik said. "Koffiezetapparaat ook, trouwens."

Bart just finised the hairdo. "Het ziet er goed uit op je. Ik zou m'n baret niet op doen als ik jou was, gaat het alleen maar kapot van", he said as he walked to the bathroom to wash his hair.

"Iemand een bakkie?", Hendrik asked to the remaining six comrades.

---

Central Clinical Hospital, Moscow. 0300 Moscow Time, November 7th, 1983.

The rough awakening did not do much good to the mood of Chairman Andropov, who was struck to a hospital bad after kidney failure earlier in the year. The General Secretary was done for physically and had not much fight left in him, but his mind was clear. Dmitriy Ustinov, Andrei Gromyko, Konstantin Chernenko and Viktor Chebrikov consulted him for something of grave importance. It better be of 'grave importance' to awaken a terminally ill old man in the middle of the night. And it was. The four consulted him on what they were convinced was a NATO invasion of the Eastern Bloc. They informed him of the situation and convinced Andropov that the USSR had to act now, and undo NATO before NATO undid them. Trusting his most loyal aides' consensus, he signed the order for a massive strike of all Warsaw Pact nations against the forces of NATO. Behind the Iron Curtain, active units were raised, the navies sailed out of port and the air forces took off with full payloads. It was about to get messy. The Warsaw Pact armies weren't expecting anything, and the NATO armies were informed their alarms would go off at 2:30 in the morning. However, at 1:30 in the morning the radars saw an abnormal amount of activiy and in some cases targets were bombed. The alarms everyone expected an hour later went off, and the theory that it was an error in timing was taken away as soon as the words "This is not a drill" were heard. Across West Germany the troops rushed into action. The Cold War had just gone hot.

---

In a mere two minutes after the first news broke, the sirens on the base started howling and a lot of boots started trampling through the hallways. The door of their room was hastily opened and a corporal was too hurried to notice what was going on. "Het is oorlog!", he shouted, "NU NAAR DE TANKS!"

Hendrik spat out his coffee "Wat?!", he asked angrily, "We hebben nog een uur, goochem!"

"Ja, dat dacht ik dus ook, maar dit is NONEX!" (NON EX), the Corporal said and he rushed on.

He uttered only a defeated "Godverdomme"

"... Betekent dat dat de Russen het op hun heupen hebben gekregen?" Quintis asked, his smile fading for a moment.

"Mijn gok is van wel", Hendrik said as he readies his bag and got his uniform in order, clearly in a hurry. "Wat een pokkeherrie maken die sirenes!"

---

"WAT?!", Nico screamed at his Iris S6, who was also the only woman in the staff.

"Ik hoor het ook net", Kapitein Iris van der Meer responded in an equally loud tone, "ik wil niet riskeren dat dit een slechte grap is!".

Nico was fuming. Jumping up and throwing his overall on, he grumbled angrily to nobody in particular. "Als ik die vonkenboer in m'n fikken krijg..." He threw his bag over his shoulder and looked at Iris who was busy tying her hair in a bun. "EN HIEROM MOET JE JE HAAR KNIPPEN, STEKKERDOOS!" Nico shouted and he ran towards the courtyard where the entire regiment was storming out of the barracks and started entering their tanks, starting their engines, and rolling out. The crew of Curtis also ended up rushing out of their barracks and to their tank where they first tied their boots and then rolled out with the rest of C-squadron. It was cold, dark, and they were groggy. But they were blessed by the fact that they smuggled a coffeemaker and four big cups on board. But the rest of the 41st was shaken too, but they still slept. Only the drivers, signallers, the staff and the squadron commanders were awake. The rest slept on, not caring or not yet realising what they were a part of.

Translation of dialogue

"What'll we have? Pizza?"
"I'd rather take a big portion of fries"
"We've got a frying pan in Henk"
"...Alright, let's have a Pizza"
"Will do.", "Something to drink?"
"Beer!"
"You reckon you'd go and drink? We'll have to go out very early."
"I'm used to more than that, it'll be totally fine!"
"I'll take a beer too. I'll be wrecked anyway!"
"I'll take a soda"
"Pussies!"
"Will you look for a table? I'd rather not have it next to the speakers."
"Is pepperoni alright? It better be, because it's in the oven. It'll be done in fifteen minutes. Speaking of food, what did you pack?"
"There's a frying pan under the ventilation"
"You really did it? /Really/?"
"Hey, mama told me I shouldn't lie. When I say something, I mean it"
"Good boy", "What else did you pack?"
"A load of frikandellen and fries. Do we need something else?" "Maybe something that doesn't make us too fat to fit through the hatches"
"No worries, dude. We're going to dick around for five days and back to base. What could possibly go wrong?"
"That we won't fit through the hatches. They'll have to cut a hole in the hull to get us out?"
"He?"
"That's what I mean"
"They're fucking tiny, though"
"But your body is around a cubic kilometre"
"Good point"
"Anyone got something else? Beer? Candy?"
"...Ammo?"
"Of course we have Ammo", "Half of it has been replaced by beer, but that's not my fault"
"How many of the how many shells are replaced by beer?"
"Around a quarter, half is a bit much"
"Heineken, that is our beer! Heineken, that is our joy!", "We've got DAFs full of ammo"
"Besides, with the frying pan we just have to rip one into the barrel and the smoke cloud will be big enough"
"..Correct"
"Hey, I'm going to grab the pizza. Be right back"
"...What do we have to do before we go?"
"The faggot, Bart. Do you think he's got hair products?"
"Who?"
"The gunner that's also with us, the gay dude!"
"Why would we need hair products?"
"We're going to style David's hair like David Sylvian's."
"Do it!"
"We'll need a Mick Karn", "Great plan"
"Seize one of the Greek officers"
"We'll need one who plays bass.", "Like one of this idiots could play fretless"
"We're just going to fix your hair! Bart's got the stuff. And otherwise, there's probably a shop around.", "It's Sunday, you dope"
"Do they have Blue Monday on repeat or something?"
"I think so. I'll speak to the faggot."

---

"Your hair is ideal for this", "The colouring went amazingly fast as well"
"I don't mind staying up at night. Means I'm up already.", "Allows me to check a few things too".
"Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up. I'm feeling like a faggot". "Do we have the guitars in the tank already?"
"All done. A coffemaker too"
"It looks good on you. If I were you, I wouldn't put my beret on. It'll ruin it"
"Anyone want a cup?"

---

"It's war!", "TO THE TANKS NOW!"
"What?!", "We've got another hour, doofus!"
"I thought so too, but this is NONEX!"
"God Damnit"
"Does that mean the Russians are at it?"
"I think so.", "Those sirens make a hellish noise!"

---

"WHAT?!"
"I also just heared it", "I don't want to risk this being a bad joke!"
"If I get my hands on the spark salesman...", "AND THIS IS WHY YOU CUT YOUR HAIR, SOCKET!" ('Doos' is also a semi-derogatory term for a woman)

[SyrianHamster]

The SPz BMP-2 rattled violently as it left the 208. The ground in the area was unsuitable for an armoured spearhead, owing to the presence of marshes and the narrow bridgeheads scattered between the Dassoer See and the Ratzburger See. Eckhardt winced as he saw two other carriers, both the older BMP-1 models, loose their footing and swerve to a muddy standstill with buckled wheels. This "assault" had no more logic to it than the mobilisation. With a sigh, he put down his R126 Tactical Radio and looked at his men; they hunkered down in their seats, with Mpi-Aks gripped tightly. They were terrified, and they were right to be.

From what Eckhardt had gathered from the intermittent radio bursts, his squad had helped to form a motley column of tanks and ATVs with the designated objective of deep penetration. Whilst the 16th/5th The Queen's Royal Lancers of the British army were waging delaying operations against the Soviet offensive towards Lubeck and Hamburg, Eckhardt's miss matched task force was given the job of outflanking them and encircling Lubeck.

The theory, as far as Eckhardt could tell, was that if the PACT forces were quick enough, then they'd isolate a large Nato contingent within the town. However, there were reports that the garrison there was preparing to pull out, even though it had just arrived, and so time was of the essence. Peering out of the BMP's gun ports, the Feldwebel could see the 1K DMZ approaching. Even from far off, he could see the coils of wire, the blocks of hardened cement and sporadic bunkers of NATO's defences. He could also see that fires that had enveloped them.

Huge clouds of smoke were climbing hundreds of feet into the air. Eckhardt could smell jet fuel, and explosive residue. The defiant tail of a Mig stuck out of a concrete bunker some five hundred yards further south; fire consumed it, and the Feldwebel hoped beyond hope that the pilot was already dead - or had bailed before it came down.

"Lead Element. No contacts," crackled Eckhardt's radio, jerking him from his observations.

It seemed the Brits were either diverting else where, had fallen back or had been buried beneath the fury of the Russian air force. This was good, because Eckhardt's faith in the column's sudden change from single file to a flimsy assault formation had fallen short the moment it was initiated.

Molln was the first target of the NVA task force. It was a border town, sitting pretty in the dead centre of their offensive action. What little recon had been provided, and shared with Eckhardt, revealed that no NATO forces were operating in the area. If this was true, the Soviet offensive must have gained ground to the north and south - enough to force NATO to divert its sparse resources to fight the bigger fires. If this was true, then the task force may well appear in the enemy rear within hours.

***

The task force moved south, giving Ratzeburg a wide birth, and then headed hard to the west and joined the 207. There were innumerable vulnerabilities to this manoeuvre, especially given the dense woodland the tanks and BMPs had to navigate through. A hundred well trained Brits would've caused a great deal of trouble, and Eckhardt wondered how long his brothers in arms would stay in the field against a deadly enemy - no matter how small. However, as it was, the first phase of the manoeuvre precoded without incident.

Whilst a small bundle of T-72s and BMPs had taken the smaller L202, the bulk of the force had decided to go on the 207 and hit Molln from the north. The man in charge, a Russian General by the name of Mirnov Adam Andreevich, had gambled on a hard-and-fast march through the town with the aim of securing it without the need for weapons. Recon had confirmed that no known NATO units were operating in the area, and as the town came into view, Eckhardt believed it.

Then the leading T-72 exploded in a beautiful fury of fire and molten metal. The second T-72 fired indiscriminately towards the town, whilst those behind it broke from the road to form a loose skirmishing formation. Two more exploded - put to the sword by NATO TOWs. The narrow space either side of the road denied the tanks the option of spreading thinly, and so they made easy targets for their attackers. Eckhardt mounted the BMP-2's turret, more to gain a view of what was happening, than to use the 30mm mounted gun.

Buildings on the northern face of Molln had been garrisoned enforce, but by who Eckhardt wasn't sure. Brits maybe, but then they weren't supposed to be here.

"Infantry, break from the road, advance under the cover of the tanks," crackled Eckhardt's radio.

"You heard the order; driver, get us off this road and find us a hole through the tanks," shouted Eckhardt.

The BMP swerved violently, and sped off to the east. The Feldwebel could hear the more cowardly members of his squad, designated 'Gustav', complaining about the lunacy of their objective. Luckily, the two Unteroffiziers were quelling them with indoctrinated passion. He peered out of the 30mm gun's optics, and saw several more TOWs launch from the lead buildings - their wires trailing behind in glittering sputters. Grabbing the firing handles, he pointed the weapon's singular barrel at the nearest of the structures, adjusted for distance, and let off a half dozen bursts. Even in his protective casing, and with anti-recoil measures in place, his arms went numb with the thudding vibrations of each discharge.

The two dozen BMPs of the task force filtered through the beleaguered line of T-72s, which continued their barrage of shells and machinegun fire, and were soon speeding towards Molln. Eckhardt swung the gun left, and saw a BMP catch a TOW. It disappeared instantly as the explosion consumed the front compartment, then the rear. This spurred the Feldwebel on. He didn't want this war, and he sure didn't want to get killed - whether his ex-countrymen were firing the missiles, or whether it was the Brits, they had to die. He fired off another half dozen bursts.

When his BMP reached within four hundred yards of the nearest building - a single story warehouse, cratered and pot marked - he descended from the turret and led his men from the hull. Gefreiter Axel Zorner remained behind to fire the 30mm. Other BMPs repeated the same process, and soon a tide of over a hundred men were storming towards Molln under a comforting shield of weathering high calibre weaponry.

[Pepschep]

An understandable, but horrible mistake on the Kremlin's part has thrown Europe into war. During the night, all frontline units mobilised and went to their objectives. The Warsaw Pact ran into fierce resistance from British and German border guards and reconnaissance units, severely delaying the assault. The recces held until first light, when they retreated to the known GDPs of the NATO units in the area and linked up with them. NATO responsed with massive airstrikes throughout Europe. Every plane that was ready for combat had been scrambled and assaulted troop movements in Germany, Czechoslovakia, Thrace, Epirus, and Eastern Turkey. While this happened, European NATO countries enacted complete mobilisation and impressive numbers of troops were mobilised. French units poured into Germany to stop the Warsaw Pact assault, and the Iberian armies were mobilising to do the same. German and Dutch units were bolstered by the British Army's units stationed in Britain itself and moved to Northern Germany with the Danish army, while in the far north the Norwegian army battled the Red army in the bitter cold of Finnmark. Austria, Switzerland, Finland and Sweden, too, called up all able-bodied men whilst making clear they remain neutral. But the Western European efforts seemingly paled compared to what happened across the atlantic and to the east, where the American and Russian giants were arising and threw their full brunt against eachother in a direct confrontation. On the 8th of November, after a number of skirmishes that inflicted very minor casualties, the Warsaw Pact had built up enough forces to assault NATO units in Northern Germany, and the order to do so was given just before first light, as NATO units were preparing to abandon Lübeck in favour of Hamburg and the Kiel Canal.

[Gunther]

9 November 1983
That night, the scout platoon reported contact with an enemy Combat Reconnaissance Patrol (CRP). This only meant the Advance Party was not too far behind. The CRP is a small patrol of two BRDMs and two BMPs equipped with chemical detection equipment and special radios to transmit back to Division Headquarters. They were members of a Special Reconnaissance Company owned by the Division Commander. Their job was to identify as many enemy formations they could, not become decisively engaged with the enemy and to find the paths of least resistance.

The (2-66 AR) Scout platoon split up into three sections of two vehicles each. Each section consisted of an M113 APC and an M901 Improved TOW Vehicle (ITV). The M113 had an M2HB .50 Cal MG and the ITV had an M60 MG mounted at the Track Commander's (TC) hatch. The two BRDM-2s and two BMPs passed the ITV and M113 as if both sides were just strangers passing in the night. Neither stopped, neither vehicle took evasive actions. It was almost as if they did not see each other. Not a round was exchanged. Both units were ordered to not become decisively engaged. So, both the East German Lieutenant and the American Staff Sergeant felt it was best to conserve ammunition.

"Saber fife two, this is Saber four eight, over," Staff Sergeant Ramirez, section sergeant in the battalion's scout platoon radioed back to the Battalion Tactical Operations Center (TOC). He was calling their Net Control Station, but the Battalion S2 was listening, as was the Battalion Commander and anyone else monitoring the battalion frequency, including Captain Stewart's Radio Telephone Operator. But Captain Stewart wasn't really asleep. He was too excited knowing that the boogie man was due any moment.

They had seeded Anti Tank and Anti Personnel minefields on both sides of the three bridges leading to their sides of the river. They had sent out dismounted Anti Armor ambush patrols along the primary avenues of approach leading into the company team sector. Each crossing had eyes on them to catch anyone running for the canal would be fired upon.

Captain Stewart sat up from his cot, rubbed his eyes, yawned and stretched. He kicked his feet out from underneath the poncho liner he was using as a blanket and stood up. He walked over to where the RTO sat at a field desk listening to the radio.

"How's the game, Jenkins?"

PFC Matt Jenkins knew the old man's sense of humor, "Yankees up by five, sir."

"Fuck! When are those damn Sox ever going to pull their heads out of their ass?"

The radio cut back in, "four eight, this is fife two, go ahead over."

"fife two, four eight, SITREP as follows, break." A six second break in transmission, "two BRAVO ROMEO DELTA MIKES and two BRAVO MIKE PAPAs moving west along Axis of Advance TORPEDO at Grid coordinate xxxxxx, break." Another six second break in transmission, "Uniform unknown, Tango one fife zero two fower two November Oscar Victor eight tree, Negative Echo, Over."

"Four eight, this is fife two, I copy two BRAVO ROMEO DELTA MIKES and two BRAVO MIKE PAPAs moving west along Axis of Advance TORPEDO at Grid coordinate xxxxxx, break." A six second break in transmission, "Uniform unknown, Tango one fife zero two fower two November Oscar Victor eight tree, Negative Echo, Out."

Someone in the TOC would plot the location on the map and then the assistant S3 would call Captain Stewart and PFC Jenkins to insure they were listening to the radio transmission. Captain Stewart would then let Captain Zewinski (Asst. S3) know that he already had an ambush patrol armed with AT weapons along Axis of Advance TORPEDO. While, he was talking to Captain Zewinski on the Battalion net, PFC Jenkins was notifying Lieutenant Adler on the Company net who in turn passed the information on to Sergeant Fleury, 1st Squad leader.

Sergeant Fleury had laid in a squad Anti armor ambush with two Dragon gunners and four AT-4 gunners as well as four other soldiers armed with two M16A1 rifles and two M203 Grenade Launchers; eleven men including himself. Only fifteen minutes passed before he heard the hum of engines traveling west along route five. Their ambush was set back about 400 meters off the road, maybe one and a half kilometers east of the Canal crossing and 2nd Platoon.

Sergeant Fleury checked his men, to insure they were awake. Everyone waited for the proper time. The four vehicles moved into the Kill Zone (KZ) traveling 40 Kilometers per Hour (25 MPH). Sergeant Fleury positioned himself between the two Dragon gunners. He held both arms raised and outstretched waiting for the right moment. When it came, he slapped both gunners on their steel pots. The gunner's depressed the triggers on their M47 Dragon missiles. Nothing happened for one point five seconds, then a click and a loud bang as the two missiles ignited. The successive flash was enough to kill everyone's night vision. One of the Grenadiers launched a parachute flare into the night sky. The left Dragon headed for the lead BRDM while the right DRAGON headed for the trail BMP. The four AT-4 Gunners doubled up on the remaining two vehicles, firing their weapons, two at the number two vehicle and two at the number three vehicle. The Dragon gunners held their sites on their targets waiting for what seemed like eternity.

The East German Leutnant in the lead wheeled vehicle recognized the threat immediately, but had no idea where the enemy was. He ordered his platoon to discharge smoke dispensers and increase speed -- to keep up with him at best possible speed. Before the driver could accelerate past 30 MPH, the left Dragon struck the lead BRDM square on the hull. The leading edge of the warhead was a shape charge on a small pole, which detonated a small hole of molten aluminum through the side of the vehicle. The main portion of the warhead exploded behind the shape charge, exploding heat and concussion through the hole, into the interior of the vehicle. The molten aluminum rapidly cooled as it bounced around inside the crew compartment at a few hundred miles per hour. The hot aluminum ripped flesh, made holes in vital organs and soft tissue. Some portions of the hot aluminum set off ammunition causing it to explode as well as for the engine to stop.

The explosion of the impact was impressive to the gunners. The first missile struck the lead vehicle taking it out of action, but the second Dragon round missed, the missile flying erratically off into who knows where. Two of the AT-4 rounds impacted with the tracks of the number three vehicle a BMP causing the vehicle to lurch to a halt. The crew of the BMP were fine, but there track was immobilized. The lead BRDM and trail BMP swerved to avoid their damaged brothers and continued with their mission. Neither vehicles stopped to pick up the four soldiers in the disabled BMP.

Sergeant Fleury immediately called in a SITREP on his contact with the enemy. The information flowed rapidly up the chain of command. Lieutenant Adler was ready with the rest of 2nd platoon as well as Lieutenant Leahy, the Armor Platoon leader on the hill overlooking the crossing. Sergeant Fleury would begin his foot movement back to friendly lines and hope he would cross the canal before the Advance Party arrived.

The East German CRP reported their contact and grid location to Division which sent Mi24 Hinds in to investigate at first light. They would not find the anti armor ambush team, but would see the M113s and M60s across the canal. At three Kilometers they were at the extreme range of the .50 caliber machine guns, which remained silent at this distance. The Mi-24 pilots also maintained discipline knowing their weapons could not have the impact they desired. The range was still too great. There were no Air Defense Artillery (ADA) threats detected. The Hinds remained in an overwatch position observing the Americans around Lauenburg. They then called for Artillery.

Stand to for the American infantry and armor soldiers was at 0515, which was only a brief time before the sounds of the helicopters in the distance came into his ears. Tom Stewart could not immediately see the helicopters, but since they were coming from the east, everyone knew they were bad guys. "Too bad, the old man didn't put Redeye in our AO," Captain Stewart spoke aloud to no one in particular. He stood on the small stretch of high ground where Lieutenant Leahy's tanks remained in hull defilade with their turrets and gun barrels pointing east over an earthen berm. He raised the binoculars to his eyes, scanning the horizon. Dust billowed up and he detected movement. Then he saw the tell tale shape of the Mi-24 HIND.

"Jenkins, call the platoons tell them to prepare for artillery," Captain Stewart told his RTO. He raised the handset on the battalion radio just as the first 122mm round impacted along the edge of the canal near Route 5. Then the 2nd platoon sector erupted in artillery fire. Explosions sent earth into the sky and damaged or destroyed many of the buildings in that area of Laeunburg. The artillery fire slowly worked its way along the west edge of the canal as far as Lanzer Zee. Captain Stewart's Command was being prepped for an attack. Fortunately for the infantrymen of 1st and 2nd platoons, their leadership insisted they build defensive fighting positions with thirty six inches of overhead cover.

"Saber zero six, this is white bayonet zero six over!" Captain Stewart yelled into the handset with artillery rounds impacting in his Area of Operations (AO).

"White bayonet zero six, this is saber zero six, go ahead over," Lieutenant Colonel Funari, the Battalion Commander of the 2nd battalion, 66th Armor responded to the Infantry Company Commander on his far right end of the line.

"Saber, this is white bayonet, I have two HINDs to my front about three to five kilometers and incoming artillery fire, break," Captain Stewart released the handset for several seconds. "I believe they are going to attempt a penetration here at Axis of Advance TORPEDO, over!" The artillery fire was getting closer to his Command Post (CP).

"Roger that white bayonet, I'll get the ALO to put some heat on the west side of the canal, out." LTC Funari clicked off the handset and called for the Air Liaison Officer. As it turned out, a pair of RAF Hawks could be in the area in ten minutes and a pair of USAF A-10 Thunderbolts in thirty minutes.

At 0530, as RAF Hawks raced from West to East at tree top level over Route 5 from Lauenburg, a new element arrived from the east. The Hawks quickly dispatched the two attack helicopters, sending them plummeting to the ground. "White bayonet zero six, this is white bayonet one six, over," Second Lieutenant Brian Lithway, 1st Platoon Leader called on the radio.

"One six, this is zero six, go ahead over," the commander called back.

"I have five unidentified tanks and four APCs moving west along Axis of Advance ROCKET toward my position, break." The lieutenant waited a few seconds, "Their barrels are pointed east at this time, over."

Captain Stewart stood up and could see from his position near the tanks that these were British Chieftain Main Battle Tanks and FV432 Armoured Personnel Carriers. "Those are friendly Cavalry, one six. Send someone out to help them through the obstacle, over."

"Roger that, over." The lieutenant clicked off, just as an explosion erupted.

Captain Stewart identified one of the British Chieftans struck a mine on the east side. It blew the track off, but left the vehicle otherwise unmolested. "Roger, out."

Staff Sergeant Garrison, 1st Section Leader, 1st platoon was tasked with making contact. The African American 26-year old soldier from Chicago, Illinois sprinted across the bridge and ran a zig zag course through the minefield he planted with Sergeant Ray Nolan's Engineers the day before. When he reached the lead undamaged tank, someone motioned for him to climb aboard. He scrambled up over the skirted fender and stood on the hull next to the TC's hatch.

The man shoved his hand out to shake, "Major Windsor, E Squadron, sixteen five Queen's Royal Lancers and who might you be?" The man spoke in a very refined Oxford accent.

"Sergeant Garrison, B Company, three four one infantry, sir," Staff Sergeant answered. "Sir, you better follow me through this minefield or you'll lose more tanks."

"Right, Sergeant! There are several East German infantry and armor formations less than a half hour behind us. We better get through this fortification as rapidly as possible." Major Windsor did not tell the young American sergeant he was the current Duke of Gloucester, cousin to Queen Elizabeth. He believed the man would possess apathy to that bit of trivia.

After picking up the crew from the disabled Chieftan, E Squadron, 16th/5th The Queen's Royal Lancers moved through the minefield under Staff Sergeant Garrison's guidance, while Soviet and East German Artillery landed amongst the tanks on the hill, the city of Lauenburg and the the canal south of them. Once on the far side, Sergeant Garrison hopped down and joined his platoon in his fighting position. The British tanks and APCs continued west past the American Battle position bound for a pre-determined location where he would link up with the rest of his regiment.

At 0600 hours, two columns of T-72s and BTR-70 Armored Personnel Carriers came into view along both routes leading into the Team Bravo. The lead T-72 struck an Anti Tank mine just before the southern bridge. The two East German Advanced Parties, consisting of two groups of three tanks and ten APCs went on line and deployed their infantry dismounts. 122mm artillery continued to drop on Team Bravo. So far, the infantry had kept their heads down while the tankers kept their eyes glued to the vision ports of their M60 Main Battle Tanks.

[SyrianHamster]

9th November, 1983.

The Assault on Molln

========================
17:00
Kampfgruppe Vasily

========================

Eckhardt threw himself against the low lying stone wall of the warehouse's parameter. His hearing had deteriorated to a constant low buzz, and his eyes were stinging from the constant flash of explosions and tracer fire. He quickly looked down himself, and patted the areas of wetness for blood. His hands came back to him grubby, but gore free. He blew a long whistle of relief; not that he could hear it. Looking back through dazed vision, he saw that the rest of the column's ill advised human wave wasn't fairing so well.

Dozens of bodies were scattered along the open grass flats flanking either side of the road. Some stirred in agony, calling out profanities and pleas. He caught the glimpse of a medic, kneeling over one of them, and recoiled as the man's face imploded from a high calibre round. Looking down the length of the brittle wall, he saw a few his countrymen - and women - huddled for dear life just as much as he.

The assault had started well, and the capitalist pig fuckers had relented their TOWs under the devastating barrage of the BMPs' 30mm guns, and the T-72's incessant but paced volleys of HE shells. However, as he and his countrymen drew close to the warehouse, packed in tight lines for reasons lost to the Feldwebel, the capitalists took advantage and opened fire with an array of small arms. Sprinting towards their blaring muzzles, the East Germans were cut to pieces. Mortar shells added to the slaughter, and those who had not made it to safety by now, had scattered into the eastern forest.

"Cowards," Eckhardt muttered bitterly. "The world laughs at us, and no wonder."

A hand grabbed Eckhardt's shoulder, and shook him violently. He looked over and saw the desperate face of a man; he'd lost his helmet, and a horrible gash was strewn across his forehead. He was mouthing things that Eckhardt could not hear, on account of the mortar round that lifted him off the ground about two minutes previous. He breathed deeply, after taking note of his shaking hand, and tried with every ounce of focus he had to translate the man's flailing lips.

"We're getting killed, Feldwebel, we're going to die here!" Were the words that Eckhardt could make out with some clarity.

Shaking his head, he smiled. "It's time we got ourselves into the war, Gefreiter. What's your name?"

"Gunter Klawe, sir," the man replied, his eyes growing wider by the second. The amusing thought of them popping from their sockets crossed the Feldwebel's mind.

"Who do we have, and how many do we have?" asked Eckhardt, suddenly an anchor of calm amidst the storm.

"I don't know," said Klawe, looking down the wall hesitantly. "Everyone and no one, sir."

"As good as it's going to get then," smirked Eckhardt.

Chancing a peep over the stone wall, the Feldwebel briefly eyed some hostiles. It seemed that the top of the warehouse, despite being reduced to one singular massive hole by the T-72s and the BMPs, was held by a hastily erected sandbag wall. He saw a few tracers slam into the obstruction, before an American style helmet poked over the top and took a shot at him. The bullet fell wide, and Eckhardt didn't even flinch. Rather, he felt very alive. Returning to his cover, he started barking commands down the length of the wall to any who would listen.

***

"Gustav Kader," roared Eckhardt down the mouth piece of his radio, "requesting fire support on that platform. Why's it still standing, over?"

"Because that's the last of our fucking worries," rattled back an aggressive response. "We've got enemy armour inbound on our position, we're shifting the tanks to deal with them, and most of the BMPs. What we leave behind is what you've got, over."

"Affirmative, comrad," Eckhardt chuckled mockingly. "Have them paste those bags until there's no sand left to spill from them. We're going in, over."

Eckhardt didn't get a reply. The guy on the other end was Russian, and he guessed him to be the leader of this sad mess, but wasn't sure. There were several Russians mingled with the Eastern Germans, for morale purposes of course. Such was the way of life behind the Curtain. Resigning to wait for the BMPs to start providing concentrated covering fire, Eckhardt drew a cigarette from within his fatigues. They were badly crushed, but dry, and after lighting it he breathed out the fumes with the long delighted release of a sigh. Looking at his assembled platoon strength mixed bag of nonsense, he nodded his head slightly.

He was in charge of them. No Feldwebels, save for him, had made it to the wall. Nor had any ranks higher - most of them he figured had stayed behind in the BMPs, or else had fled. They were terrified, and some openly bawled their eyes out - especially the handful of women that had the misfortune of being dragged into this mess. He knew that when he climbed the wall, and headed towards the warehouse's interior that only half of them would follow - but it would be enough. If he could break the NATO occupiers, he would open the way into the northern part of the town. From what he gathered, despite the brief mention of enemy armour, the enemy wasn't blessed with numbers; otherwise they'd of counter attacked by now and driven their sorry arses all the way back to East Berlin. He extinguished the cigarette against the side of his helmet, and placed it back in the pack for future savouring.

He watched as the dozen remaining T-72s left the smouldering wrecks of their brothers to head off towards the west, accompanied by a fleet of as many BMPs. The Feldwebel was surprised that they just hadn't simply surrendered, after taking such heavy losses; maybe there was hope for his countrymen after all, maybe there was hope to show the world that the East Germans were warriors to be respected. Unless they were heading off to give themselves in, which was not an unrealistic possibility. Either way, he was left with three battered BMPs that had stopped firing. He assumed, no, he hoped they were just coordinating their aim in preparation for the covering fire.

The deafening thunder, and the stream of tracers flying towards, and then over him, told Eckhardt that the BMPs were indeed still in the fight.

After waiting a few seconds for the NATO scum to get their heads down, Eckhardt roared, grabbed his Mpk-74 and then vaulted the wall. He heard a few of his countrymen repeating his enthusiasm, but not as many as he would have liked.

[Gunther]

Colonel McInnis climbed out of the hatch of the M113 Fire Support Vehicle. As Brigade commander, Chester McInnis chose to commandeer the Artillery's vehicle rather than use the M60 Main Battle Tank the Army offered him. His Brigade S3, Major Thompson was an Armor Officer and had experience in the TC Hatch of a Main Battle Tank. Colonel McInnis on the other had spent his life in the infantry. Although the tactics used by the Infantry and Armor are interchangeable and the Colonel was comfortable with that aspect of his job, he felt it would be better to leave an experienced NCO in the TC seat of his tank. Staff Sergeant Ray Holmes served as Major Thompson's Wingman. Chet McInnis was fine with this arrangement. The FIST vehicle and Forward Air Control Vehicles followed the two Main Battle Tanks around the battlefield anyway.

"Maverick zero six, this is Dagger zero six, over," The battalion commander for the 4th battalion, 41st Infantry was calling the brigade commander. The 4-41 IN (M) was defending to the north end of the line tied in with the 7th Panzer Brigade with elements of the 73rd Panzergrenadier Battalion and the 74th Panzer Battalion. There were a handful of Leopard Main Battle Tanks and about a dozen Marders with their Infantry defending Molln with A Company, 4-41 IN. A Company had a Platoon from 2-66 Armor and 14 M113 APC along with their dismounted infantry.

"Dagger zero six, this is Maverick zero six, go ahead over," Colonel McInnis responded.

"The East Germans appear to be pushing about a battalion's worth of infantry armor into my position, break," LTC Tyler reported to his superior. "Artillery has been intense in this sector. More than closer to the Saber element, over."

"Roger out.

Colonel McGinnis received similar reports from 3-41 IN in the center and 2-66 Armor at the south end of the line. He held onto D Company, 2-66 AR as Brigade reserve. He considered sending these tanks to Molln to reinforce the 4-41 IN there as well as the German 73rd Panzer Grenadier battalion, but would need to coordinate with the German 7th Panzer Brigade Commander. He had spoken to Oberst Claus Werner on three occasions and found the man to be of a serious mind. The threats in the south and in the center appeared to be less than the one facing Molln. It appeared the East Germans were concentrating their efforts on Molln. Colonel McInnis believed this is where their attack would be the strongest and he should send his tanks there.

"Hauptmann Wirth!" The 6' 2" Colonel called out. He needed the Liaison Officer to the 7th Panzers. "Get on the radio and tell your Brigade, we're moving a company of tanks up to Molln. They should be looking at a battalion and possibly more of T72s and BMPs. Ask them, if they could focus their artillery on targets at Molln. I will do the same with mine." Colonel McInnis looked at Lieutenant Colonel Bragg, the Fire Support Coordinator (FSCOORD) and Battalion Commander for 4th Battalion 3rd Field Artillery. The Artillery officer nodded at the Commander.

As the German LNO and FSCOORD spoke to their people, the Brigade Commander called Captain Hawkins, commander of D company, 2-66 and instructed him to move his company to Breitenfelde on the 207. Colonel McInnis would move his Tactical Command Post there as well for the two to link up. They would then coordinate their movement with LTC Tyler in Molln. They would push through the south side of town and hope to flank the East Germans in the forest east of town. What troubled Chet McInnis, is the forest. Wooded areas are great for infantry, but terrible for armored conflicts.

As the 2nd Brigade TAC headed toward Breitenfelde, Lieutenant Colonel Oliver Mason in the center reported to the Brigade TOC, that his battalion had lost three main battle tanks, two armored personnel carriers, twenty KIAs and fourteen WIAs. The enemy continues to assault.

LTC Funari in the south extending to Lauenburg and the Elbe River had lost two Main Battle Tanks, two APCs, five KIAs and seven WIAs. The situation was still muddy in the north. Reports were conflicting and Colonel McInnis believed he needed to get up there to see what was going on.

Meanwhile at the Brigade Administrative and Logistics Operations Center (ALOC) in the Brigade Support Area which was set up along a small private airfield in southeast Hamburg near Lohbrugge, Major Grogan and Major Pasterneck were starting to receive reports of losses. The 3-41 had fourteen casualties in their Battalion Aid Station, ten of these were critical and enroute to C Co. 498th Forward Support Battalion. 2-66 was reporting seven casualties in their BAS and three of those were critical enough to send back to "Charlie Med". Also, 3-41 had one M60A3 on a wrecker being towed back to B Company, 498th FSB and 2-66 had 2 tanks and 1 APC being towed back to B Company, FSB.

"What the hell is going on at Molln?" Lieutenant Colonel Combs uttered to Captain Vassar the Brigade Assistant Operations Officer (Asst. S3). The expression on the XO's face appeared as though he did not want an answer and Captain Vassar wasn't about to respond.

"Sir, the enemy may be focusing their effort on Molln," Major Juan Diaz interjected. Major Diaz is the brigade Intelligence Officer (S2) and should know what the enemy are doing. "Or they may be forcing our hand to deploy our reserve into Molln all the while focusing in the center or the south at Lauenburg."

"Yes, Juan, that is what is troubling me. What the hell are they doing?"

Team Bravo, 3-41 IN, in the 2-66 sector near Lauenburg
"Saber fife two, this is White Bayonet zero six, over!" Captain Stewart yelled into the handset. Explosions erupted all around him. By this time, he was in the back of his M113 APCs. Corporal Rose was rocking the M2 .50 caliber Machine gun. East German infantry had crossed the canal and were pushing towards his position alongside Lieutenant Leahy's tanks. 2nd Platoon had fallen back to supplementary positions on the tank's right and 1st Platoon did the same on the tank's left.

"White Bayonet zero six, this is Saber fife two, go ahead over," Captain Zewinski, himself was talking to Captain Stewart on the radio. The Task Force Commander, LTC Funari was listening as well as most of the staff and the armor company commanders.

"Saber fife two, this is White Bayonet zero six, condition QUICK STEP is in effect, break," a six second pause. Proword Quick Step indicates that the enemy has crossed the canal and the company team has redeployed to supplementary positions. "We have lost three Alpha Papa Charlies and two Mike Bravo Tangos, break." He waited seven seconds. "We have taken twelve Kilo India Alphas and have seven Whiskey India Alphas. They are about to overrun us in the next three zero mikes. They have the town. We won't be able to hold out much longer. We are fixing bayonets, over." The order to 'fix bayonets' went out over the company net. The east Germans were getting very close to their position and the surviving members of B company, 3-41 IN would engage in hand to hand combat very soon.

[Pepschep]

It took a five-hour drive in the "damned metal cans" in order to get to where they had to go. C squadron had 17 tanks to spread around the town of Artlenburg, which was close to the border with the GDR and one of the approaches towards Hamburg. Finding proper cover was not an easy task in pasturelands next to the Elbe, especially now, during winter when all the trees were bare, C squadron had to look out for the bushes that were still scattered around and make good use of their camo nets.

"Zouden we nu die bevroren grond moeten uitgraven?", Hendrik said as he looked out if his view ports, only seeing a few scattered bushes. "Of zouden we achter die berm kunnen staan?

""We zouden achter die berm kunnen gaan staan. Scheelt ook weer graafwerk. Maar ik heb het vage idee dat 'ie te hoog is." David mused. "... Henny. Kom eens hier. Zouden we hierover heen kunnen vuren?"

"De enige manier om daar achter te komen is om er te gaan staan.", Hennie said. "Quintis, kun je even achter die berm gaan staan? Aan de westkant."

Being the only one who couldn't look outside, Tom turned towards them. "Volgens mij vriest het niet, dus als het nodig is zouden we kunnen graven."

"Neemt niet weg dat het daarbuiten koud is. Als het even kan ga ik liever niet in de kou staan graven." Sylvian replied. Quintis, meanwhile, silently obeyed his orders - with the ever present smile - and parked the tank next to the berm. Hennie then turned the turret around a bit, and the barrel up and down.

"Nee, dit is juist te laag. Er is veel te weinig dekking hierzo. We kunnen net zo goed in die akker gaan staan."

"Rij een stuk onroerend goed in en kampeer in een raamkozijn. Da's dekking en schutting zat, toch?", said Tom.

"Ja, en we zijn ook niets. Slecht idee. Die bosjes, dus. Graven. Kut."

Tom looked at him with an expression that signalled someone just pissed in his oatmeal. "Pleur op! Ik ga niet van de kou lopen verteren!"

"Als er iets is waar ik een grotere hekel aan heb dan kou, is het wel lekgeschoten worden door een stel Russen." Quintis butted in.

The gunner fell silent, spoke "Teringtyfus", opened the hatch and jumped out into the cold darkness. Hendrik's sense of duty had him follow, but before he did that he tapped Quintis on the back. "Help jij mee? Dan kan David op de radio blijven"

"Ik heb liever dat 'ie de tank weg kan zetten als we beslopen worden of iets dergelijks." Sylvian said,

Althought the words were condescending, Hendrik spoke in a friendly, inquisitive, and respectful tone. "Heb je het gelul op de radio niet gehoord? De Russen die zijn er pas over een dag. Die worden kennelijk helemaal platgebombardeerd in hun logistiek."

"... Dat scheelt. Quintis, d'r uit dan maar." Sylvian said. The driver grumbled, and wriggled himself out of his seat.

"Ik zie geen flikker", Hendrik complained as he grabbed the shovels. "Zeg, jongens, zou een van ons niet de omwonenden moeten waarschuwen? Ik zie nog allemaal auto's...."

"Lijkt mij dat dat al gedaan is." Quintis said.

"En anders zorgen die MPs d'r wel voor. Gewoon graven.", Tom said.
"Ja, gewoon graven", said Hendrik.

The three began digging a hole for the Tanks in which it could get in a hull-down position, minimizing its profile but retaining a line of fire on the target. While it wasn't freezing, the ground was difficult to break open, but after getting used to it they kept on digging, with Hennie and Tom complaining about how they had to execute orders. As they dug, it started becoming lighter outside, but there was no sight of the sun. Taking a break to roll a cigarette, Tommie looked at the farmhouse nearby and saw a light switching on in the window and a man looking out. "Krijg toch tieten...JOHNNY JORDAAN! JE HAD GELIJK, LUL!" It drew Hendrik out and he looked on as the old farmer came walking towards the first of the three tanks that were digging in on his property - Curtis.

"Hé, David! Jij spreekt toch Duits? Er staat hier een ouwe taaie die wat van je moet!"

"Een nukubu. Geweldig." Sylvian muttered as he lifted himself up out of the turret hatch, in all his white-haired, eyeliner-adorned glory. The farmer started talking to Thomas, angrily asking him what was going on. "Jij ook de blafkanker", he calmly said as Sylvian approached him. "Ik versta d'r geen kloot van, jij wel?" Sylvian's response? ''Digging in''. In German, of course.

The farmer was annoyed, but calm. He's had experience with military drills. "When will you leave?", he asked.

''As soon as command actually lets us leave.''

"Don't you have a timetable for these drills?"

''Not this particular one. Very realistic drill.''

"Right. Where should we go?"

''... One moment. Hé, wat moet ik doen? Hij vraagt waar 'ie heen moet.''

Hendrik stopped digging and looked up. "Moet je 'm niet vertellen dat dit NONEX is? Het lijkt me niet slim om 'm hier te houden."

''Lijkt me ook niet, nee, maar waar moet ik 'm heen sturen?''

"Naar familie zo ver mogelijk in het westen. Als 'ie niet voorbij Münster komt moet 'ie de Bundeswehr opzoeken. Gok ik."

"That seems rather extreme"

''Like I said, very realistic drill.''

Hendrik listened to it and looked up, stressed. "Kein übenung!"

Sylvian quickly shushed him. ''... In fact, so realistic we're going to be shot at soon.''

The farmer was nonplussed, not realising the gravity of this information" "...Did he just say this /isn't/ a drill?"

''Yes, he did. I'd prefer not to hae told you, but this is not a drill. Therefore, it's in your own interest to leave for a safe place.''

The old man looked like a deer in the headlights. "O-okay...", he said as he went back. Hendrik didn't look up. "Gewoon zeggen waar het op staat, kom je het verste mee."

''Over het algemeen raken ze volledig in paniek. Deze toevallig niet.''

"Hij zal wel een jaartje of veertig, vijftig terug in gesloten formatie wandeltochtjes in het buitenland hebben gehouden. Dan heeft 'ie ervaring hebben met Russen die z'n land in komen razen."

''Da's waar. Hé, ben ik de enige die de ironie van deze situatie inziet?''

"Waar doel je nu op?"

''Jaartje of 40 terug zaten de Duitsers in ons land, nu zitten wij in in hun land.''

Hendrik chuckled. "Weet je, da's best geinig. Alleen waren we toen geen vriendjes."

"Nee, /wij/ niet nee.", Tom said with a grin on his face.

''Best wel raar, als je erover nadenkt. Hoe staat het met het graven?'', Sylvian inquired.

Tom took a gander. "We moeten 'm nog wat uitdiepen."
Hendrik looked at Tom. "Wat bedoel je, 'Wij'?"

"Nou kijk, toen de mariniers bij ons op de maasbruggen die moffen de strot afbeten stonden ze in Amsterdam keurig met de rechterarm op vijf-en-veertig graden gestrekt te kijken wat een mooie wagens die Duitsers wel niet hadden!"

"Zout toch eens op, eikel dat je d'r bent"

''Stop met bekvechten, jullie, en ga graven zodat we dat ding kunnen parkeren en de frituurbak tevoorschijn kunnen halen.''

"Oké, goed, maar jij moet wel die radio in de gaten houden!", said Tom as he looked at the farmhouse, where an elderly couple and their grandchildren were loading a hippie van full of their personal belongings. "Moet je die bus eens zien", he said.
"Best koosjer", said Hendrik. "Maar laten we even nog onze rug er in stoppen"

''Die zitten nog vast in de jaren '60. Luisteren waarschijnlijk nog naar Jimi of The Beatles of zo.'' Sylvian said as he wandered back to the tin can.

The radio chatter indicated that the KLu was flying sorties at an incredible rate, and claimed to have shot down a Tu-22 Blackjack off the coast of Groningen with an F-104. By some miracle. More relevant were the reports of troop movements in the area and of an engagement near Mölln. Shit was hitting the fan at break-neck speed, and 20 minutes of digging later the three outside produced a Leopard 2-sized hole.

"Hé, Sylvian! We zijn klaar!"

''Mooi. Stap in. Tijd om dit ding te parkeren.''

The two didn't wait. Hendrik ran in as Tom quickly made chips for the crew. They had their breakfast and continued waiting for an hour until shells started pounding. Artillery barrage. The first stage of a Warsaw Pact attack. This could last for days, but fortunately the Leopards were oblivious to internal damage from high explosives, even on a direct hit. Equating the situation with heavy rain, Curtis' crew made coffee and tried to make the best of the day.

---

November 9th

the squadron commander's excited voice came through. The first T-72s had been spotted and were in firing distance. Hendrik now sat up, peering through his gunsights, waiting to open the hunt. On the bridge he saw one himself. Leading a convoy of them, he was eager to shoot.
"Niet schieten", Sylvian broke his concentration by saying that. "Je moet wachten tot 'ie de brug bijna af is. Zet je de rest vast."

"Briljant plan", Hendrik said, as he kept following the first one. It was about to roll off the bridge..."Tijd om de Schepper gedag te zeggen", Hendrik muttered to himself as he pulled the trigger. The shell flew towards the T-72 in no-time, penetrating and setting it on fire. The Leopards surrounding them then opened up and lit the convoy up like New Years'. All the tanks on the bridge were quickly disposed of, and the ones on the east bank of the canal scrambled for cover, some not lucky enough to make it. C squadron quickly reported First Contact to the Battalion HQ, where Van de Kamp rolled a heavy Van Nelle and reported this groundbreaking incident to the surrounding units.

Dialog

Do we have to dig out the frozen ground? Or could we hide behind the berm?

We could get behind the berm. Saves us some digging. But I think it's too high...Hennie, get over here. Think we could fire over that?

The only way to find out is to stand behind it. Quintis, could you get on the west side of the berm?

I don't think it's freezing, so we could dig if necessary.

Doesn't take away that it's cold out there. If possible, I'd rather not get outside.

No, this is too low. Much too little cover in here. We may as well park in the meadow.

Drive into some real estate and get behind the window sill. Cover and concealment enough, right?

Yep. And we're nothing. Bad idea. It's the bushes. Dig. Asshat.

Fuck off, I'm not going to rot in the cold!

If there's something I hate more than cold, it's being perforated by a bunch of Russians.

Fucking fuck

You coming? David can stay on the radio.

I'd rather he stays in the tank, so we can drive it away.

Haven't you heard the radio? The Russians won't be here until tomorrow. They're being bombed flat in their logistics.

That's good. Go out then, Quintis.

Can't see shit, sir. Hey boys, shouldn't one of us warn the civvies? I see cars everywhere

I think that's done with

And otherwise the MPs will take care of it. Just dig.

Yeah, just dig

I'll be fucked...JOHNNY JORDAAN! YOU WERE RIGHT, FUCKER!

"Hey, David. Didn't you speak German? There's a geezer who wants to speak to you"

A civvie. Great.

You get fucked too, mate. I can't understand him for shit, can you?"

...

One moment. Hey, what should I do? He's asking where to go.

Shouldn't you tell him this is NONEX? He shouldn't stay here.

I figured, but where should I send him?

To family as far west as possible. If he doesn't pass Münster, he should find the Bundeswehr. I guess.

..

Just say it like it is, you get the furthest with that.

In general they panic. By some miracle, this one didn't.

Forty or fifty years ago, he was probably having foreign hiking vacations in a neat closed formation. Gives him some experience with Russians thundering into his country.

True. Hey, am I the only one who sees the irony in this?

What do you mean?

A year or forty ago the German were in our country. Now we're in theirs.

It's quite funny. But then we weren't friends.

No, /we/ weren't.

Pretty strange if you think about it. How's the digging?

We should deepen it

What do you mean, 'we'?

You see, when the Marines on the Maasbruggen were biting the Krauts' throats off, in Amsterdam they were lining the roads with their arms stretched at forty-five degrees, looking at how beautiful the German cars were.

Fuck off, you dickhead you.

Stop the bitchfight. Go dig this out so we can park and get the deep-fryer.

Okay, good. But you should watch that radio! ... Look at that van!

That's Kosher. But let's put our backs into this.

They're probably stuck in the 60s listening to Jimi or the Beatles or something.

Hey Sylvian, we're done!

Good, get in. Time to park this.

Don't shoot. Wait until he almost leaves the bridge. You'll pin the rest.

Brilliant plan...Time to meet the Creator.