Red Storm Rising Part 81

"I'm hungry," Chapayev said after a moment.

"Dinner should be in about thirty minutes."

"You will just send me home, after-"

"We don't have labor camps and we don't kill prisoners. If we were going to mistreat you, why did the surgeon sew up your leg and prescribe pain medications?"

"The pictures I had with me?"

"Almost forgot." Toland handed the Russian's wallet over. "Isn't it against the rules to take this up with you?"

"I carry it for luck," he said. Chapayev pulled out the black-and-white shot of his wife and twin daughters. I will see you again. It may be some months, but I will see you again.

Bob chuckled. "It worked, Comrade Major. Here are mine."

"Your wife is too skinny, but you are a lucky man also." Chapayev paused as his eyes teared up for a moment. He blinked them away. "I would like a drink," he said hopefully.

"Me, too. Not allowed on our s.h.i.+ps." He looked at the photos. "Your daughters are beautiful, Major. You know, we have to be crazy to leave them."

"We have our duty," Chapayev said. Toland gestured angrily.

"It's the d.a.m.ned politicians. They just tell us to go-and we go, like idiots! h.e.l.l, we don't even know why the G.o.dd.a.m.ned war started!"

"You mean you do not know?"

Bingo. Codeine and sympathy . . . The tape recorder he had in his pocket was already turned on.

HUNZEN, FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF GERMANY.

"If I continue the attack, we'll be destroyed here!" Alekseyev protested. "I have two full divisions on my flank, and I have a report that American tanks are at Alfeld."

"Impossible!" CINC-West replied angrily.

"The report came from Major Sergetov. He saw them arrive. I have ordered him to Stendal to make his report to you personally."

"I have 26th Motor-Rifle approaching Alfeld now. If any Americans are present, they'll handle matters."

That's a Category-C unit, Alekseyev thought. Reservists, short on equipment, out-of-date training.

"What progress have you made on the crossing?"

"Two regiments across, a third moving now. Enemy air activity has picked up-dammit! I have enemy units in my rear!"

"Get back to Stendal, Pasha. Beregovoy is in command at Hunzen. I need you here."

I'm being relieved. I'm being relieved of my command!

"Understood, Comrade General," Alekseyev replied. He switched off the radio. Can I leave my troops this vulnerable to counterattack? Can I forgo warning my commanders? Alekseyev slammed his fist on the worktable. "Get me General Beregovoy!"

ALFELD, FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF GERMANY.

It was too far for artillery support from the NATO lines, and they'd been forced to leave their own guns behind. Mackall trained his gunsights through the haze and saw the advancing Russian formations. He estimated two regiments. That made it a division-sized attack in the cla.s.sic two-up, one-back fas.h.i.+on. Hmm. I don't see any SAM launchers up front. The colonel in overall command started giving his orders over the command circuit. Friendly air was coming in.

Apache attack choppers popped up right behind the Cav's positions. They moved south to flank the advancing Russian vehicles, jinking and skidding as they launched their h.e.l.lfire missiles into the leading echelon of tanks. Their pilots sought out missile-launch vehicles but found none. Next came the A-10s. The ugly twin-engine aircraft swooped low, free for once of the SAM threat. Their rotary cannon and cl.u.s.ter bombs continued the job of the Apaches.

"They're coming in dumb, boss," the gunner commented.

"Maybe they're green, Woody."

"Okay by me."

The Bradleys on the eastern edge of the town engaged next with their missiles. The leading Soviet ranks were savaged even before they came into range of the tanks over the river. The attack began to falter. The Russian tanks stopped to shoot. They popped smoke and shot wildly from inside it. A few wild rounds landed close to Mackall's position, but they were not aimed shots. The attack was stopped two kilometers short of the town.

"Head north," Alekseyev said over the headset.

"Comrade General, if we head north-" the pilot started to say.

"I said head north! Keep low," he added.

The heavily armed Mi-24 swooped low abruptly. Alekseyev's gorge rose in his throat as the pilot tried to get even with him for giving the stupid, dangerous order. He sat in the back, hanging on to the seatbelt and leaning out the left-side door to see what he could. The helicopter jinked violently left and right, up and down-the pilot knew the dangers here.

"There!" Alekseyev called. "Ten o'clock. I see-American or German? Tanks at ten o'clock."

"I see some missile vehicles, too, Comrade General. Do you wish to see them more closely?" the pilot inquired acidly. He brought the chopper down a wooded road, barely two meters above the pavement as he dipped out of sight.

"That was at least a battalion," the General said.

"I'd say more," the pilot commented. He was at full power, his nose low for maximum speed, and his eyes scanned ahead for enemy aircraft.

The General fumbled with his map. He had to sit down and strap in to use both hands on it. "My G.o.d, this far south?"

"As I told you," the pilot answered over the intercom, "they have staged a breakthrough."

"How close can you go to Alfeld?"

"That depends on how much the General wishes to be alive tonight." Alekseyev noted the fear and anger in the words, and reminded himself that the captain flying this helicopter was already twice a Hero of the Soviet Union for his daring over the battlefield.

"As close as you think safe, Comrade Captain. I must see for myself what the enemy is doing."

"Understood. Hang on, it will be a very rough ride." The Mi-24 jumped up to avoid some power lines, then dropped again like a stone. Alekseyev winced at how close to the ground they stopped. "Enemy aircraft overhead. Look like the Devil's Cross . . . four of them heading west."

They pa.s.sed over a-not a road, Alekseyev thought, a gra.s.sy strip with tracked vehicles on it. The gra.s.s had been churned to bare dirt. He checked his map. This route led to Alfeld.

"I will cross over the Leine and approach Alfeld from the east. That way we'll be over friendly troops if anything happens," the pilot advised. Immediately thereafter the aircraft jumped up and down again. Alekseyev caught a glimpse of tanks on the ridge as they raced past. Many of them. A few strings of tracer bullets reached out at the chopper, but fell behind. "Quite a few tanks there, Comrade General. I'd say a regimental force. The tank-repair yard is to the south-what's left of it-s.h.i.+t! Enemy helicopters to the south!"

The aircraft stopped and pivoted in the air. There was a roar as an air-to-air missile leaped off the wingtip, then the Mi-24 started moving again. It jinked up, then down hard, and the General saw a smoke trail go overhead.

"That was close."

"Did you get him?"

"Does the General wish me to stop and see? What's that? That wasn't here before."

The chopper stopped briefly. Alekseyev saw burning vehicles and running men. The tanks were old T-55s . . . this was the counterattack he'd been told about! Smashed. A minute later he saw vehicles a.s.sembling for another effort.

"I've seen enough. Straight to Stendal as fast as you can." The General leaned back with his maps and tried to formulate a clear picture of what he'd seen. Half an hour later the helicopter flared and landed.

"You were right, Pasha," CINC-West said as soon as he walked into the operations room. He held three reconnaissance photographs.

"Twenty-Sixth Motor-Rifle's initial attack was crushed two kilometers in front of enemy lines. When I flew over, they were re-forming for another. This is a mistake," Alekseyev said with quiet urgency. "If we want that position back, we have to attack with full preparation."

"We must have that bridgehead back in our hands as quickly as possible."

"Fine. Tell Beregovoy to detach two of his units and drive back east."

"We can't abandon the Weser crossing!"

"Comrade General, either we pull those units back or we let NATO destroy them in place. That is the only choice we have at the moment."

"No. Once we get Alfeld back, we can reinforce. That will defeat the counterattack on their flank and allow us to continue the advance."

"What do we have to strike Alfeld with?"

"Three divisions are en route now-"

Alekseyev scanned the unit designations on the map. "They're all C formations!"

"Yes. I had to divert most of my B units north. NATO counterattacked at Hamburg as well. Cheer up, Pasha, we have many C units coming onto the front."

Wonderful. All these old, fat, out-of-practice reservists are marching to a front held by battle-seasoned troops.

"Wait until all three divisions are in place. Get their artillery up front first so that we can pound the NATO positions. What about Gronau?"

"The Germans crossed the Leine there, but we have them contained. Two divisions are moving to attack there also."

Alekseyev walked over to the main map display and looked for changes in the tactical situation since he'd last been here. The battle lines in the north had not changed appreciably, and the NATO counterattack on the Alfeld-Ruhle salient was only now being posted. Blue flags were at Gronau, and Alfeld. There was the counterattack at Hamburg.

We've lost the initiative. How do we get it back?

The Soviet Army had started the war with twenty A divisions based in Germany, with another ten moved in at the start, and more since. All of them had now been committed to battle, many pulled off the line due to losses. The last reserve of the full-strength formations was at Ruhle, and they were about to be trapped. Beregovoy was too good a soldier to violate orders, even though he knew his forces had to be pulled back before they were irretrievably cut off.

"We must abandon the attack. If we press on, those divisions will be trapped behind two rivers, not just one."

"The attack is a political and military necessity," CINC-West answered. "If they push forward, NATO will have to draw forces off this attack to defend the Ruhr. Then we'll have them."

Alekseyev didn't argue further. The thought that came to him felt like a blast of cold air on exposed skin. Have we failed?

USS INDEPENDENCE.

"Admiral, I need to see somebody in the MAF."

"Who?"

"Chuck Lowe-he's a regimental commander. Before he took it over, we worked together on CINCLANT's intelligence staff."

"Why not-"

"He's good, Admiral, very good at this stuff."

"You think the information is that hot?" Jacobsen asked.

"I sure do, sir, but I need a second opinion. Chuck's the best guy who's handy."

Jacobsen lifted his phone. "Get me General Emerson, quick . . . Billy? Scott. You have a Colonel Chuck Lowe serving with you? Where? Okay, one of my intel people needs to see him right now . . . important enough, Billy. Very well, he'll be on his way in ten minutes." The Admiral set the phone down. "Have you copied that tape?"

"Yes, sir. This is one of the copies. The original's in the safe."

"There'll be a helo waiting for you."

It was a one-hour flight to Stykkisholmur. From there a Marine chopper took him southeast. He found Chuck Lowe in a tent looking over some maps.

"You get around pretty good. I heard about Nimitz, Bob. Glad to see you made it. What's up?"

"I want you to listen to this tape. It'll take you about twenty minutes." Toland explained who the Russian was. He handed over a small j.a.panese personal tape player with earphones. The two officers walked out of the tent to a relatively quiet place. Twice Lowe rewound the tape to repeat a section.