Blind Fire (8 page)

‘He doesn’t like the battle to go cold, likes to keep things on the boil.’ As they walked, Dooley interrupted the conversation to dart forward and lift a low branch to save Cohen from having to bend, showering him in water in the process.

‘That’ll be two marks,’ he called to the corporal as he fell back alongside Burke again. ‘Would have been five, but I’m giving a special introductory offer.’ Dooley grinned at the inevitable obscenity he received in reply. ‘No extra charge for the shower.’ He took out a grimy scrap of paper, and with an equally filthy stub of a pencil noted the amount.
Burke took up again where he’d been forced to leave off. ‘That’s alright while he’s boiling Reds, like he’s just done, but why’s he in such a fucking hurry to see the same happen to us?’
‘You’re not dead yet, are you?’
‘Not for want of bloody trying.’
‘Quit worrying, the Major will take care of us. I’ve been with him six months, and I ain’t come to any harm.’
‘You mean you were a head-case when he first knew you?’ Ducking just in time, Burke avoided the casually swung M16 that slashed through the leaves above him. ‘I’m telling you,’ Dooley stabbed a finger the size of a salami towards Burke, ‘he’s good, good at his job, good at looking after his men. The only difference between him and your Sergeant is that he keeps pressing on, when that shitty gargoyle of yours would stand back and wait for the smoke to clear before having another go.’

Burke dropped it. The big man had blind faith in his officer; it could be dangerous devotion in battle. There were lots of different reasons for obeying orders, but so far he’d found the most convincing one was that it avoided him having to do too much thinking himself. Sod it, there was no way he was ever going to get a stripe, so what was the point of putting on displays of initiative? In his lowly position it wasn’t required of him, while officers and NCOs were still on their feet, and by the time casualties forced him to take command of the section he’d be the only one left alive. Then there’d only be one order, and he could give that to himself while he was running.

‘Want a hand?’
Recovering from the trip that had brought him to his knees, Burke treated Dooley’s offer with suspicion. ‘I may be older than the rest of you, but not that much. Anyway I can’t afford your rates.’ ‘That’s alright, no charge.’ Dooley took Burke’s pack as he helped him up. ‘Just till you get your breath back.’

Cohen had witnessed the incident. ‘So for him it’s gratis?’

‘It’s for a buddy. You pass around a few of your diamonds and you’ll have some. I’ll be first in line.’

There was no need for Cohen to pause to consider the suggestion. ‘In that case I’ll die wealthy instead, lonely but wealthy.’ The radio crackled into life, and he hurried to catch up with the major as a message came in.

‘What’ll it be this time?’ Dooley watched him threading his way forward. ‘Whatever it is,’ Burke retrieved his pack, Til put money on your Major turning it into a fight.’
‘No takers,’ Dooley hitched the M16 to a more comfortable position and patted his ammunition pouches. ‘No takers.’

The Zone - Northern Sector

Attempts by the Royal Navy to sweep the Elbe estuary of mines, as a preliminary to forcing a passage to Hamburg, have been called off after the loss of the
 
minesweepers HMS
Brecon
and HMS
Middleton.
The modified torpedo recovery
 
vessel RNAS
Tormentor is
on its way to the area, and it is thought attempts will be
 
made by RN divers to recover one of the new Russian mines.

Lieutenant General K. I. Pavloskii has been relieved of his command of the
 
Soviet forces surrounding Hamburg, following the defeat of the third major assault
 
in six weeks by the West German and British defenders. He is now in Moscow. His
 
successor has not yet been announced. He will be the third to be appointed in five
 
months. It is understood that there is no competition among the Russian General
 
Staff for the post.

Polish and Hungarian divisions have now been positively identified opposite the
 
Hanover salient. The increased use of satellite forces on this most active front is
 
thought to be due to two reasons:
 
ONE: The Russians’ aim to reduce their own losses in experienced combat units,
 
currently running at four per cent per week.
 
TWO: A desire to strengthen the ‘involvement’ of other members of the Warsaw
 
Pact by increasing their casualty lists.

The Cuban battalion operating with the Soviet 2nd Guards Army near Munster
 
is now known to have suffered eighty-seven per cent casualties in two days of
 
fighting with the 2nd Battalion of the RAF Regiment. British losses are put at one
 
dead, two missing believed killed, seven wounded.

SIX

The little country town of Budlingen was close enough to the western fringes of the Zone to have suffered extensively from looting. Added to the dereliction brought about by almost two years of neglect and nature’s unchecked advances, was the clutter of abandoned furniture and other goods outside virtually every shop and house. Most of it was weather-ravaged and scattered, but here and there stood neat stacks of televisions and other electrical appliances, still awaiting collection by gangs who had been unable or unwilling to return for them.

Tissue-thin wood veneer peeled from once polished cabinets, drooping down on to the clouded plastic covers of music centres. Grass and weeds flourished about and between them, adding an incongruous touch. ‘These places give me the creeps.’ Dooley looked around warily as they stood waiting for Revell and the sergeant to return from scouting for suitable sites and premises. ‘It’s no fucking wonder the refugees build their camps out in the country.’

‘Spooky or not, I’d rather have a decent roof over my head than live in one of the camps. A tent isn’t any substitute for tiles.’ Rubbing accumulated grime from a shop window, Burke peered in at the dusty shelves. They were empty save for a few large wicker baskets that had held loaves long ago. A mouse scurried across a counter top, tumbling noiselessly to a bouncy landing on the floor, before hurrying from sight.

There was a loud bang. Everyone jumped as Dooley smashed his boot through the screen of a large colour set and was showered with thick fragments of glass. He ignored the shouts of protest. ‘I always wanted to do that.’

‘You’re a bloody hooligan, a vandal.’ There was irritation in Libby’s voice. ‘If you have to do bloody stupid things like that, do it thoroughly. Use your thick head next time.’

‘You want to start calling names, save it for the shits in the Kremlin who started the whole stinking business. They’re the fucking vandals.’ Dooley had been about to hand out similar treatment to a second television, now he held back. ‘Fuck it, can’t I even have a bit of fun without someone having a go at me. You lot get on my tits.’ He stalked away, kicking a Hoover from his path.

Clarence sat on a twin-tub washing machine, scraping every last speck of brick dust from his rifle, stripping the bullets from the magazines and cleaning each one individually. The tension that was getting to the others had not touched him. He finished the last checks, loaded the re-chambered Enfield and slowly took aim at a street sign two hundred metres away. An instant after firing, a large area of paint jumped from its face, as the heavy bullet punched through the centre of the circle of sheet metal, deeply denting the post behind it. A second shot ploughed into a shop sign some yards further away and frosted glass and fluorescent tubes cascaded on to the path.

Satisfied, the sniper reloaded the magazine. The fight to come was more to his liking. Given good concealment, with just a little luck, he would push his score to over two hundred. It was a start. He had set the price of revenge at a hundred Russians for each member of his family. At his current rate he would achieve his target in about seven months. He had not as yet considered what he would do when he reached it. There would be time enough for that when it happened.

‘Here we go again.’ Burke watched Revell and Hyde returning. ‘I’ll be bleeding glad when we’ve used up the last of these things. Jesus but my arms ache.’ He prepared to pick up a case of reloads for their Dragon anti-tank rocket launchers. ‘I’m supposed to be a ruddy combat driver, not a sodding pack mule.’

‘Be grateful we’ve got them. This scrap is going to be at close range, we’ll be using the contraptions almost like bazookas, flight time will be too short for effective gathering and guidance. It’ll be a case of see, point and fire.’ ‘Is that supposed to cheer me up, Sarge?’

‘No Burke, just keep you informed. You’re always complaining no one ever tells you anything. Come to that you’re always complaining.’

For a moment Burke considered contesting the statement, but decided not to. ‘Well in future I’d rather stay ignorant, better for my peace of mind.’

‘OK Sergeant, let’s get set up.’ Revell was counting the ammunition cases when he heard the approaching engines. A black staff car and a half-ton truck were coming down the main street. ‘Damn it, don’t you know this road is closed? It’s going to be full of T84s inside an hour.’ He shouted at the car’s driver, who had pulled up nearby and had stuck his head out of the window.

‘Good. I’m in the right place then.’ Not put off by the greeting, a young lieutenant climbed out, as an assortment of variously armed cooks, clerks and combat engineers jumped from the back of the truck.

‘What the hell is this?’ Revell looked on incredulously as the lieutenant had the new arrivals lifting cases of grenades and M72 Viper launchers from the truck.

Undeterred by the brusque demand, the lieutenant sauntered forward and threw a casual salute. ‘I heard there was a chance of a skirmish with stray Russian armour, so I rounded up some, eh, volunteers from the hangers-on around Corps HQ, borrowed the General’s car and a truck the supply boys didn’t seem to have too much use for, and motored out here looking for a slice of the action. When does the fun start. I’m not too late am I?’

‘You sure you heard his name right? Lieutenant Hogg? He’s not a grunt is he? You
sure
you heard the name right?’

‘Sure I’m sure.’ Cohen was stung by Dooley’s scepticism. ‘I heard him talking with the Major. He’s an engineer with 373rd Bridge Building Company. He was hanging about VII Corps HQ waiting for transport when he heard about us.’

‘I don’t give a fuck what he’s called. I just wish he’d stop smiling all the fucking time.’ By pretending to be making adjustments to the support legs of the Dragon missile launcher, Burke avoided helping the two Americans carry the sealed reload rounds in from the doorway. ‘It’s fucking unnerving having someone around who grins like a bleeding Cheshire cat all the time. Where is he now?’

Broken glass from the smashed front of the hardware store crunched under heavy ammunition boxes as they were set down beside the launcher. Dooley took out one of the Dragon rounds and clipped it to the side of the sight-and-command module. ‘He’s upstairs with the Major.’

‘Shit, I didn’t know that. Why didn’t you bloody say something? I could have landed myself right in it.’

‘And miss the look on your face if he’d suddenly come back down and heard you!’ The joke was being hugely enjoyed by Dooley. ‘I was hoping you might come out with an opinion or two on what you thought of officers, just to spice it up, make sure as much crap hit the fan as possible.’ ‘You’re bloody warped.’
‘Ain’t we all.’ Dooley patted the launcher, set up to fire out into the street. ‘Ain’t we all?’

‘We’ll let about half the column pass by.’ In the thick dust of the table top Revell sketched the main street. ‘We’ve tried hitting the head twice, but with all that weight of armour and fire-power the Reds just charge straight through. I’m betting that if we chop off a large enough section of the tail, the vanguard will turn around and come back to help it out. If it works, we might be able to tie them up until late afternoon...’

Lieutenant Hogg bent over the crude map and doodled in details with the tip of his bayonet, occasionally glancing out of the window. ‘How many do you aim to knock out?’
‘As many as we can, but I’m hoping we can hit the APCs first. Without infantry support the commie tanks are going to be at a disadvantage in these narrow streets. If they stay closed down they’ll be as good as blind, if they open up we’ll have snipers ready to knock off the commanders as they poke their heads out.’ ‘You’ve what, thirty men? We’ll parcel them out among our Dragon positions. That’ll give my tank busters a chance to get on with their job without having to worry about any red infantry that survives to make trouble.’ ‘Spread out on both sides of the street.’ Hogg examined the dotted-in anti-tank teams. ‘It’s not going to be easy organising a withdrawal.’

‘There won’t be any withdrawal. We’ll slog it out until we’ve used all the Dragon rounds, then we’ll mix it with M72s and finally finish them off with half bricks and two-by-fours if need be. You can change position if you have to, but maintain close contact at all times.’

The words did nothing to wipe the smile of faint amusement from the lieutenant’s face. If anything, it broadened a fraction more. ‘Do you mind if I ask what your exact orders are, Major. It seems to me, from the impression I got before I came out here, that you were just to harass and delay the column, not try to finish it off single-handedly.’

‘Your impression’s near enough correct, but I’ve got my own way of ‘harassing’ enemy armour. You didn’t have to come, and you don’t have to stay.’ ‘Oh I’m staying, Major.’ Hogg patted the grenades clipped to his belt. ‘I’m not sporting these babies because I think they look pretty. I’ve got fed up with shoving bridge sections around while commie artillery shovel stinking mud all over me. Now I reckon I’m about due to get a bit of my own back. Here will do as well as anywhere.’

‘OK, so long as you’re happy, and you look like you are,’ Hogg’s permanent grin was beginning to grate on Revell, ‘let’s get on with it. First we’ll sort your men out. It’ll spoil the surprise if they’re still milling about like a load of lost sheep when the lead T84 arrives, and that could be soon.’ A thought struck the major, though he half-suspected it had been hovering at the back of his mind and he’d unconsciously suppressed it until now, when it could be put off no longer. ‘You fought tanks before?’