The Last War: 364.

[Bernard Woolley]

With thanks to Matt W.

*

D+27

*

0001 hours GMT. Outside, Bargteheide, Schleswig-Holstein, FRG.
Gefreiter (Private) Hojer and Schmidt had been posted to cover one of the approaches to the assembly area of A Company, I Battalion, 51st Motor Rifle Regiment. Which was part of 19th Motor Rifle Division, an East German reserve division that was part of the force assembled to launch a counterattack against the ‘NATO’ corridor. The two reservists were in their mid-forties and had recently arrived in the battalion as Battle Casualty Replacements.

*

The plan was to launch a two-pronged attack to cut Bundesautobahn 7 and the parallel Bundesstraße 4, or at the very least get close enough to both to make them untenable as evacuation routes from Hamburg. That would leave Bundesautobahn 23 and Bundesstraße 431 as the only routes in and out of the city, plus a few minor roads. Soviet reconnaissance had shown that all four routes were packed with traffic, so cutting even one of them would have a significant impact.

*

Hojer and Schmidt had been given the last of walking part of the perimeter, meeting up with their counterparts doing the same on the sectors to their left and right, and check up on the fixed posts in between. It was a boring, monotonous task, even when the fact that NATO troops were not far away was considered, and both men had slung their MPi-AK-74N over their shoulders. Something strictly against orders.

“I’m getting too old to be walking about in the dark with this damn thing.” Hojer complained, shifting his rifle, as its sling was beginning to dig into his right shoulder.
“Tell me about it.” Schmidt replied. “Some of these younger guys, well, I’m old enough to be their dad!”

Up ahead of them was a sandbagged post that contained two soldiers and a PKM machine-gun. Or at least it should have done. As Hoher and Schmidt approached they could see that the post was unmanned.

“Scheiße!” Both men exclaimed in unison before unslinging their rifles and running towards the post.

There was no sign of the two men who they had spoken to not an hour ago. The PKM was missing its firing pin and its barrel was bent, while most of the ammunition it needed seemed to be missing. The post’s radio had a suspiciously boot shaped hole in it. After a few minutes of indecision, Hojer and Schmidt also realised that the other pair of infantrymen who they were supposed to meet at the post had not turned up.

“I think we need to raise the alarm.” Schmidt said nervously, reaching for a flare he was carrying.

While none of the patrols had a radio, they had been issued flares that they could fire to summon help.

“What do you think, Werner?” He said, as he held the flare in his left hand. “Werner?”

Hojer had disappeared into the night. Schmidt looked around him, on the edge of panic. His comrade had been standing right next to him, how could he have vanished so suddenly?
He raised his left hand to fire the flare, but something clamped around his wrist. A sharp blow to the back of his neck sent Schmidt sprawling to the ground and into unconsciousness.

0046 hours GMT. Near Pyongyang, North Korea.
Lieutenant Commander Kristine Redmond woke up with a start. She glanced around the dark cell-illuminated only with some starlight via the barred window and heard footsteps in the cell block corridor. The judas hole opened, then slammed shut. She heard it repeated four more times, then the door opened and closed as the guard left. He's done with his rounds-for now, she thought. Only problem was that unlike the other four POWs in the cellblock, she was wide awake. If this was the ship, I'd walk it off before going back to the rack. Not much room here, but... She got up anyway and started pacing back and forth between the window and the door. As she did, she thought about the past two days.

After Commander Redmond, Captain Cheri Krause and WO Amanda Cole had sat down at that townhouse, the “peace” delegation the Norks had forced them to meet had proceeded to “lecture” the three, though the prisoners all felt it was “harangue”. Each member of the delegation had an anti-American and anti-NATO diatribe, and the three POWs simply listened. From SERE, the experiences of POWs in North Vietnam had found that a polite silence was the best reply in such circumstances, and engaging said delegations in any kind of exchange could be turned to the captor's propaganda advantage. Though when the prisoners were asked if they had any messages for their families, they did say yes. If the “peace” delegation was expecting an anti-war message in the replies, they were disappointed, for Commander Redmond had simply said, “I'm all right, they're treating me okay, and hope to be home soon.” The others had given similar replies, before the delegation members smiled, got up to leave, and only as an afterthought, gave perfunctory thanks. Then the NK guards took them back to the truck which had brought them there, where they were cuffed, blindfolded, and loaded in the truck for the trip back to the camp. After they were returned-and very rudely tossed back into their cells, the POWs were fed before things settled down.


The next morning started out the same, with the three prisoners getting what passed for breakfast, before being taken by the guards to work in the “garden” as usual. About midmorning, though, they were surprised when the gate to the admin area opened, and Sour K, the Camp Commandant, and Lt. Fuzz, the Political Officer came in. The POWs watched as the two simply waited, before the main gate to the compound opened and a ZIL-157 truck drove into the compound. It pulled up to the two NK officers, stopped, and several armed guards got out. Then two bedraggled figures were brought out from the truck and brought before the two.

Cheri Krause watched as Sour K began to harangue the new arrivals, and Lt. Fuzz translated. She winced, for it was practically word-for-word the same that she had gotten a few days earlier, when she had been brought to the camp.

“Looks like the Country Club's got two new members.” She said quietly so as not to antagonize the guards who were watching them.
“Huh?” Amanda Cole asked, then she glanced over in that direction.

One of the new arrivals had long brown hair that no longer hung in a military required bun, while the other had blonde hair that was about as long as regs permitted.

“Looks like it, she muttered as Sour K, his tirade now finished, started coming in their direction, with the Political Officer with him, and guards prodding the two prisoners to follow.
“Okay, play it cool.” Redmond said. “Don't want to piss him off. Not now.”

The other two nodded agreement, for none of them were in any shape yet to go another round in the torture room. They were still “bouncing back,” to use the phrase from Hanoi, and that, unknown to any of them, was being used in Iraq. Then the Camp Commandant arrived and regarded the three. Commander Redmond noted that as he did, his facial expression was one of total contempt. Then he spoke.

“Here is more proof that the Korean People's Anti-Air Defence Forces are keeping the skies clear of Imperialist and Puppet aircraft.” Sour K said through Lt. Fuzz.

As if on cue, the guards shoved the two new prisoners to the others.

“Our own Air Forces control the skies over the Korean Peninsula and have swept the air clear of the Imperialist Air Forces.”

In your dreams, Redmond thought. But she kept that thought silent, knowing the price of not doing so. And she recognized the brown-haired prisoner but didn't show it.

“Remember the previous several days.” The Commandant went on. “Remember that you still will have a choice to make.”

The three prisoners who had experienced the torture rooms knew full well what the NK officer meant as he referred to their sessions in those rooms.

“And that if you show a proper attitude, you will be treated well!” Then the man held up a finger. “But-remember you are NOT Prisoners of War, and that none of you will go home until America signs a Peace Treaty with the DPRK and pays compensation for all the damages it has inflicted on the Korean People!”

Sour K then turned and left, with the guards following, but Lt. Fuzz remained, watching. Then the rumble of jets could be heard, and everyone looked up. Two aircraft were flying overhead, and one of the new arrivals recognized them.

“MiG-17s, looks like.”
“You see?” Lt. Fuzz said excitedly. “The Camp Commander has spoken, and it is the truth!”

If you say so, Redmond thought. Unlike the last time he had done this, no missile trails appeared, and both MiG-17s headed off-to the north and it looked like they got down low. Then what looked like two F-15s, followed by four more, almost certainly F-15Es, with four F-16s flying shotgun. All headed in the same direction as the two MiGs.

Cheri Krause then turned to the Political Officer.

“What was it you were saying?” She didn't think those two MiGs would live very long.

Without a word, Lt. Fuzz turned and left.

“Think he got a bloody wakeup call, mate.” The blonde said, and the others picked up the accent. “Oh, introductions. Flight Leftenant Katrina Taylor, RAAF-and”
“I know her,” Commander Redmond said. “I wish I could say it's good to see you, Tracy.”

Lieutenant Tracy McNichol smiled grimly.

“Kris, I'd say the same thing.”
“You know her?” Krause asked.
“She's in my squadron,” said Redmond, introducing herself and the others. “Trace, what happened?”
“Four nights ago.” McNichol said, watching the guards, who didn't seem to mind the POWs talking. “Dave Wells-he's my pilot-and I went down south of Wonsan. Had a SAM warning come up-SA-3, then BOOM! We got out, but I haven't seen him since. But he had a good chute.”

Redmond nodded. She, too, had no idea what happened to her crewman.

“How about you, Katrina?”
“Went down south of Pyongyang three days ago.” The Aussie said. “Rail yard, and some b*ggers with bloody shoulder-fired SAMs got lucky.”
“Your crewman?” Commander Redmond asked.
“WSO.” Taylor said. “After the ejection capsule landed, we took off separately. What happened to him? I have no idea.”

The SRO nodded.

“And they took you guys to Pyongyang, put you through the wringer, then showed you off to the cameras.” It wasn't a question.

Both new arrivals nodded.

“That's about it, Taylor replied, and McNichol nodded.

Both rolled up their pyjama sleeves to show the scars. Fresh rope burns and cuff marks were there, still quite fresh.

“We've got our share.” Redmond said, gesturing to her own arms. “Okay, just hang tough, remember what you learned in SERE, and we're going to get through this.”

McNichol had a smile-the first she had since being shot down.

“That we will, Kris.”

Then Amanda Cole noticed two guards coming, each with a rake in hand.

“Looks like you two are gonna be just as busy as we are.”
“Huh?” Taylor asked, then the guards shoved a rake into her hands, and McNichol's. “I get it.”

As they got to work, McNichol said to her squadron mate.

“Kris, I don't think they'll like me as a gardener.”
“What do you mean, Trace?” Commander Redmond asked as a guard prodded her back to work.
“I'm terrible with plants.” She said, and the others laughed, much to the confusion of the guards.

*

Now, in her cell, Commander Redmond thought for a moment. They had talked under their cell doors after the guards felt they had done enough in the “garden”, and the news from the outside was mixed. Things were still dicey in Europe, though the NK advance had been slowed in a number of areas and stopped in a couple. The Soviet pocket in Hokkaido was about done, and things in the Gulf were in some kind of pause, and nobody knew who was going to move first, the Iraqis, or CENTCOM.

One thing, though, wasn't good. McNichol had relayed what had happened aboard Constellation, when an “All Hands” message from the CNO had been read. “This is a marathon, not a sprint,” the message had said. And CAG had added that they weren't even past the first mile. It meant they were going to be in North Korea for a while. At least I've got some good company, Redmond consoled herself. Just as long as Bill doesn't pull any strings to get himself deployed, anywhere, she thought. But that, and the knowledge she and the others weren't going anywhere for a while nagged her as she finally drifted back to sleep.

0136 hours GMT. Outer Helsinki Defence Line, Finland.
Being a nineteen-year-old vegetarian, with some ideas of how social justice could change the world had been simple. Volunteering to serve in the army had seemed a good way to protect Finland’s freedom and would look good on a future CV. No, Soldat Marin reflected, it was a damn site simpler and a hell of a lot more fun. For one thing, she would not have ever imagined that she would be wiping the blood from some Russian soldier on her trousers. She had stabbed the man, who was around her own age, with her bayonet, feeling his warm blood run down across her hand and wrist. As Marin put her bayonet back in its sheath, she made a decision.

“One day, many years from now I’m going to be the damned Prime Minister and make sure that this sort of sh*t doesn’t happen again.” She muttered.
“Sure, you are, Marin.” The Korpral who commanded the section she was in whispered back sceptically. “How you going to do that then?”
“Dunno exactly yet. Keep us in NATO for one thing and make sure we get plenty of modern kit. None of this T-55s against T-90s b*shit.”

The Korpral smiled.

“I’ll vote for you if you make it, Marin.”
“And I’ll vote for the other guy if you two don’t shut the hell up!” The Undersergeant leading the fighting patrol hissed. “Now, move!”

The fighting patrol had set out from the forward Finnish defensive positions and infiltrated its way through the thin line of Soviet rifle pits in front of their main positions. Where necessary, enemy sentries had been killed, as had any soldier in a rifle pit who showed any sign of alertness. The Finnish soldiers were now creeping in amongst the Soviet BMP-1s and slit trenches.

Marin crept up to the rear hatch of one BMP-1 and waited. The Korpral nodded and she tapped on the hatch with the butt of her rifle.

“Da?” A sleepy motor riflemen asked as he opened the hatch.

Marin shot him twice, the Korporal threw a grenade into the back of the vehicle before Marin slammed the hatch shut. There was a dull ‘boom’ as the incendiary grenade exploded. The same process was being repeated to their right and left as pairs of Finnish soldiers threw grenades into the troop compartments of several BMP-1s. The incendiary grenades set the armoured vehicles on fire.
As the fighting patrol withdrew, the Finns dropped fragmentation grenades into slit trenches and foxholes, causing further confusion. Once the patrol was clear of the Soviet positions, a battery of AMOS mortars covered their withdrawal with a hurricane barrage of 120mm rounds. A battery of Soviet 122mm towed guns attempted to catch the returning patrol, but it had barely gotten a few shots off before it was hit by counter-battery fire from a battery of Swedish SFH-98 Archers. Several dozen 155mm shells hitting the Soviet gun positions almost simultaneously.

Soldat Marin flopped down into the fighting position that she had left an hour ago, out of breath. What a couple of days ago had been an L shaped trench built for four people, had been expanded, absorbing the foxhole to his right and the machine-gun position to its left. It now followed the classic ‘zigzag’ shape and even had the beginnings of a dug-out. Overhead protection was, for the moment, only limited to the original portions of the trench, but the occupants were working on obtaining more material to cover the new sections.

After catching her breath, Marin made her way to the site of the old dogleg of ‘L’, which was now being extended to the rear as a communications trench. She was handed a mug of hot soup, which she drank hungrily, not caring what sort of soup it was, just that it was hot and nourishing.

“Nice bit of work back there, Marin.” The Korporal told her, in-between drinking his own soup.
“Thanks.” Marin replied. “Don’t want to make stabbing men a habit, though.”

0146 hours GMT. New Zealand Parliament buildings, Wellington.
The Prime Minister nodded to the Home Guard company commander as he saluted both the politician and the Chief of Defence Force. The PM smiled as he recognised the man, a retired Colonel who now worked in defence procurement, primarily in the supply of small arms. The official had taken two drops in rank to command B (for Beehive) Company, Wellington Battalion (Wellington Mounted Rifles), New Zealand Home Guard.

*

B Company drew its soldiers mainly from parliamentary staff, some MPs, the Ministry of Defence, Treasury, Reserve Bank of New Zealand, and from the other ministries in the area. Given that it had been assigned the task of protecting the heart of New Zealand’s government, relieving regular and Territorial troops previously assigned to the task, B Company was probably the best equipped sub-unit in the country’s Home Guard. For example, every member of the company had a full set of NZDPM uniform, webbing and even Kevlar helmets. Even so, it was still armed with older weapons, such as L1A1 SLRs, Sterling Sub-Machine Guns and L4A4 ‘Bren’ guns.

The remainder of the Wellington Battalion was nowhere near as well equipped, being as short of weapons and uniforms as the rest of the Home Guard. Something that had provoked adverse comments and resentment. The counter argument ran that if the Home Guard was being used to relieve regular troops guarding one of the most important sites in the nation, it needed to be properly armed and equipped.

*

“Good to see you, Glen.” The PM said to the company commander. “How are you?”
“Not bad, thank you, Prime Minister. Glad to be back in uniform; it certainly does beat the day job.” Major Glen Bowen replied with a smile.
“Even if you’ve had to take two drops in rank?”

Bowen chuckled.

“I’d have happily joined the Home Guard as a private, Sir.” He said. “Besides, rank isn’t everything and if Brigadier Forbes didn’t mind dropping down to a lieutenant colonel to command the battalion, I shouldn’t mind doing the same to command a company. The experience has also fed back to my day job – we’re currently in the middle of trying to track down suitable rifles for the Home Guard.”
“How’s that going?” The PM wondered.

Bowen pursed his lips.

“Well, considering we used to have something like 15,000 SLRs and I don’t think we disposed of many of them, a bit harder than we’d like. The regulars have priority, of course, as they should, though they prefer more modern kit. We have, on the other hand, come across quite a large number of Lee-Enfield rifles made in Britain in the ‘50s that we’ve had in storage for decades. We’re issuing them and have ordered .303 rounds from India.”
“You’re satisfied with Lee-Enfields? I don’t want a repeat of the “Grandad’s Rifle” scandal the Aussies had.” The PM asked, concerned.
“Satisfied?” No, Prime Minister, I’m not.” Bowen confirmed. “But they will do in the interim. We’re lucky that the Aussies stepped up production of F88s at Lithgow over the last few years, as it means that they can release a batch of five hundred rifles to us. We’ll receive those over the next couple of weeks, which will allow us to cascade SLRs from Territorial and training units to the Home Guard. It’s not as many as we’d like, but it will go some way to help.
“On the other hand, we have been lucky with regards to other small arms. You wouldn’t believe how many sub-machine guns, pistols, and Bren guns in both .303 and 7.62 were salted away in armouries. But, let me show you the icing on the cake, or at least some of it.”

Bowen led the PM, CDF, and their combined entourage to a ‘sangar’ constructed of sandbags that covered a checkpoint manned by a section of Home Guardsmen and a pair of police officers. The PM and CDF peered inside.

“That’s a Vickers!” The Air Marshal exclaimed. “A Second World War example by its smooth water jacket. Lithgow made?”

The Home Guard commander was surprised but impressed with the Chief of Defence Staff’s knowledge.

“She’s from 1943 by the markings on her.” Bowen replied, nodding. “I looked up what records we have for her. She went through the Solomons with 35 Battalion and was issued to a few different units in Malaya and during the First Confrontation, but after that records are pretty spotty until she turned up with a dozen of her sisters at Linton. According to the records, they were all refurbished before being put in store in the early ‘70s and promptly forgotten about. They were all in excellent condition and just needed grease cleaned off of them.
“When we relieved the regulars here, they took their machine-guns with them, so I figured that the Vickers, like this Old Lady, would be perfect in fixed positions. If anybody is stupid to try and drive a vehicle through this checkpoint, Old Vicky here will shred them!” He added with a grin.

The Prime Minister looked a little alarmed for a moment at Bowen’s enthusiasm for the old machine-gun. But he mentally shrugged, deciding that the man knew what he was talking about.

0159 hours GMT. West of Çorlu, Thrace, Turkey.
Major General Holland checked his watch. It was almost time; in a just over a minute NATO artillery would open fire to cover an advance by his division and Turkish units on both of his flanks.

“Sir! Urgent message from corps! The attack has been postponed until 0401 hours!”
“Damn it.” Holland muttered under his breath, cursing corps H.Q for leaving it so late. “Get stand-down orders out to everyone immediately!”

Part of Holland was frustrated at the sudden delay, but another part of him was relieved. The 177th Armored Brigade had been delayed in reaching its starting line due to congestion; Holland had been prepared to go without the brigade, but now there would be extra time for it to get into position.

Holland spent the next two hours pacing up and down outside his command trailer. Something that made his staff nervous. He only paused to drink coffee and check his watch. Finally, some news arrived.

“Sorry, Sir, corps has postponed the attack until 0701 hours.” The messenger said apologetically.

Major General Holland just shook his head in disbelief. The longer the attack was delayed, the more chance the Soviets would spot it. Moreover, launching the attack in daylight would take away some of the advantages in technology that NATO forces possessed.

“Thank you, lad.” Holland told the messenger. “I’ve had way too much coffee, so I’m going to see if I can get some rest instead. You know where to find me.”

0601 GMT. Portland, Oregon.
“Hell no! We won’t go!” The marchers chanted as they crossed the Burnside Bridge.

At a signal the marchers dropped to the pavement, as if they had been killed. A ‘die-in’ was not something that had been seen in Portland for some decades.

“We’re not going to salute the flag and send our sons and daughters abroad to die for Boeing, Lockheed Martin and the Carlyle Group!” One of the leaders of the march yelled.
“We’re not going to die for George Soros!” Another shouted.
“Down with American imperialism! Power to the people!” Said a third.

Disinterested officers from the Portland Police Bureau’s Central Precinct watched the protestors. Many wondering why the Mayor, an ex-cop himself, had allowed the protest to go ahead. Especially since it was now blocking an important river crossing. It was also not as if the PPB did not already have enough to do. As well as its normal day to day policing duties, the PPB had to provide security to a variety of city VIPs and Vulnerable Points. That left less officers than normal available to police things like protest marches.

*

The departure of most of the Army National Guard, either to the border, as in the case of the 41st Infantry Brigade, or to pre-deployment training, in the case of the 116th Cavalry Brigade, did not leave many Guard units left to assist the police. What Guard resources were available were generally deployed to protect Vulnerable Points, with only a small mobile force available to come to the assistance of state and local law enforcement. Oregon did have a State Defense Force, but it was not suitable for law enforcement work. Being mainly made up of communications specialists.

Portland could, of course, request mutual aid from other departments, such as the Multnomah County Sheriff's Office and the Oregon State Police. However, the Mayor had not authorised any such requests and anyway, neighbouring agencies were also stretched thin.

*

“They’re kinda loud for corpses.” Sergeant Michael ‘Mike’ Donleavy observed laconically.

Donleavy had covered all sorts of marches and protests over the years, but this one was different. It seemed to include people from across the political spectrum, with perhaps the exception of the middle ground. There were people with Hammer & Sickle flags and banners from the CPUSA, the ‘America and the West is Always Wrong No Matter How Bad Their Enemies’ crowd, the ‘perpetual protestors’ who turned up to protest anything and everything, and black clad anarchists. Alongside them were isolationists, who thought America should stay out of anything outside its borders, anti-government types who though that the war was a ‘New World Order’ conspiracy, or that the government would come for their guns, and those who weirdly admired the USSR’s social policies when it came to things like LGBTI+ rights, despite being anti-Communist. The final and smallest group were people who were against the draft; Donleavy could not help but notice that the final group, oddly, did not seem to contain many people of draft age.

There had been an attempt to organise a simultaneous march in Seattle, without with much success. Not surprising, as many citizens of that city and the State of Washington had recently experienced enemy attack.

“Aw, sh*t, I thought this was too good to be true.” Donleavy muttered as she saw some of the ‘dead’ protestors start to glue and handcuff themselves to parts of the bridge.

Orders were to treat the protestors with ‘kid gloves’ unless they became violent or caused significant disruption. Donleavy wondered if blocking the Burnside Bridge counted as ‘significant disruption’.

“Dispatch to all units in the Burnside Bridge area. Do not, repeat, do not allow the protestors to block the bridge. However, you are to continue to facilitate the march, over.”
“Great.” Donleavy observed. “How in the hell are we supposed to do both?” He wondered. “Okay, guys.” He said to the group of officers under his command. “Let’s start ‘encouraging’ them to get on with their march. Hope you’ve all got your handcuff keys and solvent.”

0651 hours GMT. Keşan, Edirine Province, Turkey.
“Fire!” Lieutenant Oshodi ordered.

‘BOOM!’
‘BOOM!’

The two howitzers of B Troop, 5 Gibraltar Field Battery fired almost simultaneously. Now that Soviet forces had broken into the defences to the north of Keşan, fire missions were coming in thick and fast. The Turkish commander had hoped to keep some of the artillery under his command in reserve, but that hope had not lasted long.

Oshodi’s gunners worked hard to reload the L118 ‘Light Guns’. Something they did rapidly.

‘BOOM!’
‘BOOM!’

It was time to go. Soviet counter-battery fire would surely be inbound.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Oshodi ordered.

While a pair of Pinzgauer TUM (HD) backed up to the howitzers, Oshodi helped to load equipment into the rear of a Land Rover. As soon as they were connected to the L118s, the ‘Pinzs’ left the troop’s positions, heading for the next one.

“We’re ready to go, Ma’am.” The Troop Sergeant reported.
“Right, on your way. I’ll see you at the next position.”

Before climbing into the Land Rover, Oshodi took a moment to survey the gun position. She could see discarded ammunition boxes, but nothing of value had been left behind. Oshodi climbed into her Land Rover and was just reaching out to close the door when she heard a distant screech getting louder.

“Go! Go! Go!” She yelled at the driver, who did not need to be told twice.

He had already been revving the engine and dropped the clutch, the ‘Landy’ accelerating away as hard as the 4x4 could. Oshodi was just able close her door in time to stop it being removed by a wall. The Land Rover turned a corner and got behind some buildings just in time. The source of the screech, Soviet 220mm rockets, obliterated the recently abandoned gun position.

*

Major Gardiner could feel the ground shake under him as Soviet artillery pounded NATO defensive positions. His company of Gurkhas occupied the reserve positions of 1 Royal Anglian Regiment. When it came time for the two other infantry companies to retire, they would be covered by his men.

As Gardiner had expected the Soviets had pushed through the outer defences of Keşan fairly quickly. Using a combination of artillery fire and sheer mass. Thankfully, the main defences of the town and highway junction were much stronger, and the Soviet armour had been brought to a near halt, forcing them to use dismounted infantry to clear each position. Turkish armoured counterattacks had also made things more difficult for the Soviets by threatening their left flank.

From his Command Post Gardiner could see some of the Royal Anglians beginning to make a fighting retreat towards the reserve positions. Those soldiers had been well briefed to keep clear of the Gurkha’s line of fire, allowing Gardiner’s men to open fire as soon as Soviet troops appeared in front of them. It was clear that the enemy had not expected to run into heavy gunfire. A great many Soviet motor riflemen were cut down before the remainder took cover, which allowed A and C Company to complete their withdrawal unmolested.

*

The commander of the Turkish Army’s XI Corps could be relatively pleased. [1] While the Soviets had pushed into his defences, they had been stopped and were now hung up on them as they attempted to grind their way further south. He was confident that he could hold on for at least the next forty-eight hours, possibly longer once the last formation of his corps arrived. However, his continued defence relied on V Corps making a prompt counterattack. Keeping his corps together would not achieve much if he was forced to retreat south and Keşan was lost, or even if it was just the case that the Soviets were able to effectively interdict the east-west highway.

Just where was V Corps, the general wondered. He should have heard something from them by now. [2]

***

[1] Outline Order of Battle:

XI Corps
- 28th Infantry Division
- 14th Armoured Brigade
- 15th Infantry Brigade
- 28th Infantry Brigade
- Task Force Hill

In Transit
- 11th Mechanised Brigade


[2] Outline Order of Battle:

V Corps
- Corps Cavalry Battalion
- Corps Artillery
- 1st Armoured Brigade
- 3rd Armoured Brigade
- 3rd Mechanised Division
- 61st Infantry Division
- 28th Infantry Division (Mech) (US)

[Bernard Woolley]

Accompanying Pictures

[Jotun]

Oooh, shiny! A new chapter!

It is still strange to read about fighting in Schleswig-Holstein. I wonder what is going on with the Ossi sentries. Somebody seems to be preparing to nip the planned attack in the bud. Special forces or "normal" troops? Guess we will see.

Norks being their usual happy, touchie-feelie selves, I see.

Soldat Marin is learning quickly, I see. Good. A barbarous way of tempering her lofty ideals, but a bit of realism is nothing bad in a politician.

I wonder what is wrong in this week of Mondays NATO seems to have in Thrace. I had thought the Turks to be better at soldiering. Especially since it is long before anything like the Erdogan purges is likely to happen in this universe.

The thoughts I entertain about the bunch of wastes of space doing the anti-war demonstration aren‘t printable. Hell, even their slogans aren‘t original. Bit funny that the people on whose behalf they are supposedly a ting are already on their way to serve. Ah well…

Thank you, Jan and Matt, it was fun!

[Bernard Woolley]

Special forces or "normal" troops? Guess we will see.

No comment.

Soldat Marin is learning quickly, I see. Good. A barbarous way of tempering her lofty ideals, but a bit of realism is nothing bad in a politician.

Will say this for Sana Marin in @. She was the Finnish politician who brought her country into NATO. That alone is something, IMVHO, praiseworthy and historic.

I had thought the Turks to be better at soldiering. Especially since it is long before anything like the Erdogan purges is likely to happen in this universe.

The Turks are fighting very well. They're just being pushed back by sheer numbers, plus the friction of war.

Thank you, Jan and Matt, it was fun!

You are very welcome.

[Eaglenine2]

So what American Forces are in Turkey?

[Bernard Woolley]

US forces in Turkey include the following army formations:

- 28th Infantry Division (Mech) (-)(+)
- Task Force Hill
- Task Force Yankee

The last mentioned is in Erzurum in Eastern Turkey. It was part of a pre-war training deployment to train the Turks in the use of the AH-1H. It's formed of a composite company formed from the 26th ID's aviation units, equiped with thr AH-1H and UH-60. With a provisional infantry company drawn from the battalions of the 172nd Infantry Regiment for security. Bell basically paid for a lot of the costs, hence the significant deployment of NG troops.

[jemhouston]

Vickers is a classic. As long as you treat her right, she'll get the job done.

I'll admit, I'm in a foul mood, so I'm hoping whatever the protesters are using to glue their hands to the bridge is either painful to remove or forces amputation.

[Johnnie Lyle]

Vickers is a classic. As long as you treat her right, she'll get the job done.

I'll admit, I'm in a foul mood, so I'm hoping whatever the protesters are using to glue their hands to the bridge is either painful to remove or forces amputation.

As obnoxious as they are, we’re ultimately fighting for their right to express themselves without being summarily hached. So you have to use the minimum necessary amount of force to deal with them, not turn them into freeway salsa.

[jemhouston]

Vickers is a classic. As long as you treat her right, she'll get the job done.

I'll admit, I'm in a foul mood, so I'm hoping whatever the protesters are using to glue their hands to the bridge is either painful to remove or forces amputation.

As obnoxious as they are, we’re ultimately fighting for their right to express themselves without being summarily hached. So you have to use the minimum necessary amount of force to deal with them, not turn them into freeway salsa.

I was referring to what the protesters were using to glue themselves to the bridge. I know the authorities will take care, but my rant was inspired by what some climate protesters did in Germany (?) recently.

[Johnnie Lyle]

Vickers is a classic. As long as you treat her right, she'll get the job done.

I'll admit, I'm in a foul mood, so I'm hoping whatever the protesters are using to glue their hands to the bridge is either painful to remove or forces amputation.

As obnoxious as they are, we’re ultimately fighting for their right to express themselves without being summarily hached. So you have to use the minimum necessary amount of force to deal with them, not turn them into freeway salsa.

I was referring to what the protesters were using to glue themselves to the bridge. I know the authorities will take care, but my rant was inspired by what some climate protesters did in Germany (?) recently.

It’ll probably be acetone or nail polish remover. Though you can use Simple Green, oven cleaner or nastier, more expensive solvents - but they have other consequences. The lot will probably not have nice times in the county jail (especially if the current regime in jail is less solicitous and the ODCs patriotic). Ideally, they’d be put to work cleaning it up.

The fundamental problem with the @jerks (and that’s a polite word for them) is that they’ve been coddled, and so think they have a right to vandalize.

[jemhouston]

What inspired my comment, https://www.msn.com/en-in/news/world/ac ... r-AA1dOuAB

[Johnnie Lyle]

What inspired my comment, https://www.msn.com/en-in/news/world/ac ... r-AA1dOuAB

Amputation is unlikely, as commenters noted. The solvents may not be pleasant, but there’s a lot they can do before they bust out the bonesaws.

It’s still incredibly stupid and annoying, along with a hefty dose of “wtf are these people smoking” and “these people need real problems, like how to pay the mortgage.”

[jemhouston]

What inspired my comment, https://www.msn.com/en-in/news/world/ac ... r-AA1dOuAB

Amputation is unlikely, as commenters noted. The solvents may not be pleasant, but there’s a lot they can do before they bust out the bonesaws.

It’s still incredibly stupid and annoying, along with a hefty dose of “wtf are these people smoking” and “these people need real problems, like how to pay the mortgage.”

I suspect it's more likely what happens when they're cut off from the family money.

[Matt Wiser]

Whoo-hoo! A new chapter! BZ as usual, my friend, and always glad to be of help. And so to business:

Those East German grunts will be/are in a world of hurt. The division shortly, and those two, now.

NKs just being their usual nasty selves. The good thing about being paraded in front of the cameras? It guarantees your survival. The bad? It marks you for regular exploitation-the trio seeing that "peace" delegation, for example.

One bet I wouldn't take is Marin making good on her promises later on.

One might argue those old weapons show that the bottom of the barrel is being scraped.Others might argue that they may be old, but if it can still kill you, it's not obsolete.

Would like to know what's happening in Turkey.

Portland's protesters are a mixed bunch-TTL and OTL. Communists, DSA (Democratic Socialists of America), Anarchists, "Peace" types, and the folks on the alt-right. There are those in both camps who look forward for a fight with their opponents-and law enforcement. I'd like to know how many of these chumps are of draft age. They will find out not that many folks are sympathetic to draft-dodgers. And they can't run to Canada, either.

Good work, and get with 365!

[Johnnie Lyle]

There’s going to be a very angry Russian commander up north. He just lost, at a minimum, a mech platoon to roughly a squad of Finns. I assume the Soviets remain as wedded to the inside of their BMPs as in @1980s and 1990s? Sloppy.

Order and counterorder down in Thrace.

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

"Order and counterorder down in Thrace."

Unless the second and subsequent are 'Maskirovka', because SigInt has determined that there's a leak...

Three or four such 'False Alarms' of impending attack should thoroughly mung the source. So, when he's told subsequent GO-order must be sent by couriers, to await a code-word, he'll know a deeper game's a-foot...

[Bernard Woolley]

Vickers is a classic. As long as you treat her right, she'll get the job done.

When Vickers developed the Maxim into the Vickers Mk.I they got it so right that there were very little changes to the weapon. Only real modifications were to make her easier to mass produce.

As obnoxious as they are, we’re ultimately fighting for their right to express themselves without being summarily hached. So you have to use the minimum necessary amount of force to deal with them, not turn them into freeway salsa.

We may not agree with their views, or causes, but they have a right to express them. Besides, I can't help but remember that there have been times when protestors were on the right side of history.

The fundamental problem with the @jerks (and that’s a polite word for them) is that they’ve been coddled, and so think they have a right to vandalize.

Vandalising things has a long tradition in political protest. I don't think that the women who broke windows, or carried out arson attacks in the 1900s had been coddled, for example. They wanted society to take notice and that may be the same case today, no matter how irritating throwing around orange power at sporting events is.

What inspired my comment, https://www.msn.com/en-in/news/world/ac ... r-AA1dOuAB

Turns out that's not actually true. I've attached an image from that article below.

“these people need real problems, like how to pay the mortgage.”

Well, they think Climate Change is a very real problem. Kinda hard to pay your mortgage when as a result of Climate Change your house has either burned down, or caught fire. But, that's a debate for elsewhere.

Whoo-hoo! A new chapter! BZ as usual, my friend, and always glad to be of help. And so to business:

Always appreciate the help.

One bet I wouldn't take is Marin making good on her promises later on.

Well, we do know that Marin is Finland's PM in TLW's 2019 and that she made a pro-NATO speach. She'll be one of the West's 'Wartime Generation'. A lot of politicians who in @ are around 40-45, may well have wartime service in TLW. Dame Jacinda Ardern would be the most obvious other example.
Whether Marin holds to her promises will depdend on her generation's reaction to the war. Previous wartime generations sought to have peace through things like the LoN and UN. Will those who fought the Third World War be the same, or will they feel such organisations failed twice and the best way to preserve peace is to prepare for a potential future war?

One might argue those old weapons show that the bottom of the barrel is being scraped.Others might argue that they may be old, but if it can still kill you, it's not obsolete.

In @ Ukraine is using the PM M1910. They've even added optics, supressors and stocks to some of their weapons. So, in TLW I did not think it was a stretch to see ancient Vickers used in fixed positions.

Would like to know what's happening in Turkey.

Wouldn't we all!

I'd like to know how many of these chumps are of draft age. They will find out not that many folks are sympathetic to draft-dodgers. And they can't run to Canada, either.

Looking at the Selective Service System, the first cohort to be called up would be men whose 20th birthday falls during the calendar year the induction takes place. After that the age groups would be called up in the following order - 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 19 and 18 year olds. Sergeant Donleavy did note that there were very few people of that age in the anti-draft group. And, to be honest, I'm not sure I'd want to draft anyone from the other groups. They might well end up being more trouble than they were worth.

Good work, and get with 365!

Thanks again and will do!

There’s going to be a very angry Russian commander up north. He just lost, at a minimum, a mech platoon to roughly a squad of Finns.

The Fins have historically been very good at this sort of thing. They did it during the Last War ( ) and continue to train in that sort of tactic.

I assume the Soviets remain as wedded to the inside of their BMPs as in @1980s and 1990s? Sloppy.

What? You want them to get out of their nice, safe, warm BMP? How dare you!

Order and counterorder down in Thrace.

Followed by disorder!

Unless the second and subsequent are 'Maskirovka', because SigInt has determined that there's a leak...

Have I ever been that sneaky?

[Johnnie Lyle]

As obnoxious as they are, we’re ultimately fighting for their right to express themselves without being summarily hached. So you have to use the minimum necessary amount of force to deal with them, not turn them into freeway salsa.

We may not agree with their views, or causes, but they have a right to express them. Besides, I can't help but remember that there have been times when protestors were on the right side of history.

That’s probably unlikely in this case.

The fundamental problem with the @jerks (and that’s a polite word for them) is that they’ve been coddled, and so think they have a right to vandalize.

Vandalising things has a long tradition in political protest. I don't think that the women who broke windows, or carried out arson attacks in the 1900s had been coddled, for example. They wanted society to take notice and that may be the same case today, no matter how irritating throwing around orange power at sporting events is.

It may have a long tradition as a political performance - but it also has an equally long disagreement about whether it’s more effective than counterproductive. Many of the social changes that are held up as examples of direct action/word of the deed succeeding also have other watershed events that have equal or arguably better claims on moving the needle of public perception - and many social and political issues where direct action was a major part of the gameplan failed because the direct action alienated the public. The anarchist movement is a good example of the latter.

At the same time, at least @US has a vastly lower punishment for vandalism in general and political vandalism in specific. We also have seen a deliberate shift from those who commit crime as a political statement expecting punishment to those who commit crime as a political statement expecting leniency. On the flip side, the scale of the violence is going up.

“these people need real problems, like how to pay the mortgage.”

Well, they think Climate Change is a very real problem. Kinda hard to pay your mortgage when as a result of Climate Change your house has either burned down, or caught fire. But, that's a debate for elsewhere.

Respectfully, as Matt pointed out re: your protesters (and many in @), cause seems to be less of a motivation than protesting in and of itself. The “protest set” as it were does have wide overlap between causes, where many of the same people are present for various causes, especially as the scale of the direct action steps up.

Also, as others have pointed out re: your protest example, we have a very legitimate questions about the dichotomy between words vs actions, especially other life choices which may contradict their stated concerns, and what enables them to support themselves as an activist. But that’s a discussion for another day.

One might argue those old weapons show that the bottom of the barrel is being scraped.Others might argue that they may be old, but if it can still kill you, it's not obsolete.

In @ Ukraine is using the PM M1910. They've even added optics, supressors and stocks to some of their weapons. So, in TLW I did not think it was a stretch to see ancient Vickers used in fixed positions.

We saw similar situations in most wars that required rapid mobilization of society resources, so it’s plausible. It’s also a good example of how they should be ruthlessly prioritizing resources to task, especially as we have huge uses/losses of modern equipment.

I'd like to know how many of these chumps are of draft age. They will find out not that many folks are sympathetic to draft-dodgers. And they can't run to Canada, either.

Looking at the Selective Service System, the first cohort to be called up would be men whose 20th birthday falls during the calendar year the induction takes place. After that the age groups would be called up in the following order - 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 19 and 18 year olds. Sergeant Donleavy did note that there were very few people of that age in the anti-draft group. And, to be honest, I'm not sure I'd want to draft anyone from the other groups. They might well end up being more trouble than they were worth.

Are they still doing college deferment?

There’s going to be a very angry Russian commander up north. He just lost, at a minimum, a mech platoon to roughly a squad of Finns.

The Fins have historically been very good at this sort of thing. They did it during the Last War ( ) and continue to train in that sort of tactic.

I read it as the bulk of the Russian platoon was sleeping in the BMPs, and they had insufficient security elements. So is it an example of Finnish excellence in patrolling or Russian fieldcraft failure? My sense is that most first line NATO forces would be equally nasty in that situation.

I assume the Soviets remain as wedded to the inside of their BMPs as in @1980s and 1990s? Sloppy.

What? You want them to get out of their nice, safe, warm BMP? How dare you!

The fuel tanks in the door exploding/burning are very warm.

Order and counterorder down in Thrace.

Followed by disorder!

Especially if the Soviets decide to crash the party.

Unless the second and subsequent are 'Maskirovka', because SigInt has determined that there's a leak...

Have I ever been that sneaky?

People have been that cute before. That’s the hard part of writing fiction - it has to be “realistic.”

[James1978]

Good chapter!

Re. the NVA reservists. Why do I think that the Rangers are lurking about?

Any chance we can get a big picture view of the Finnish Front?

Why do I think the fight in Thrace is going to turn into a giant meeting engagement?

Keep up the good work!

[James1978]

I wonder what is wrong in this week of Mondays NATO seems to have in Thrace. I had thought the Turks to be better at soldiering. Especially since it is long before anything like the Erdogan purges is likely to happen in this universe.

Relative to its size, the Turkish Army is far less mechanized than most of its NATO counterparts. They have a lot of tanks and artillery, but the tanks are more spread out and a LOT of them are still M48s, a lot of the artillery is towed 105mm, and much of the infantry is leg/truck.

Good soldiers they may be, but in a lot of ways they are simply outgunned and less mobile.

Turkish Army ORBAT coming soon, hopefully within the week.