The Last War: 367.

[Bernard Woolley]

With thanks to Jotun & Matt W.

*

D+27

*

1845 hours GMT. The Kremlin, Moscow, RSFSR.
“You better have some good news for me!” The General Secretary growled to his military aide.

The news of the disaster over the DDR – Polish border had put the General Secretary in a foul mood. He was sure that what had happened was no accident. It was sabotage as far as he was concerned. The General Secretary had lit a fire under the KGB and had issued instructions that those guilty of this act against the State were to be shot as soon as they were identified. No need for the formality of a trial.

“Yes, Comrade General Secretary.” The Soviet Army Colonel replied. “I have confirmation of a major victory achieved yesterday. The 9th Guards and 14th Armies have inflicted a major defeat on the enemy.”

The General Secretary smiled.

“Tell me more, Comrade Colonel.”
“An American division, believed to be the 9th Mechanised Infantry, was leading an attempt to capture Kiel. Our armies launched a counterattack and were able to capture the crossing point the Americans had built to cross the Kiel Canal. The American division was able to retreat out of an attempt to trap it, but in the process, it suffered heavy losses and the GRU has assessed it as now being combat ineffective.”

The General Secretary laughed out loud. After the West Germans, he took especial pleasure in hearing about losses that the Americans suffered.

“An entire division.” He mused. “And this was an especially powerful division, was it not, Comrade Colonel?”
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary. Even by American standards it was a powerful division.”
“Ha! That is the best news I have heard all day! The Commander of the Baltic Front has certainly redeemed himself. Tell the Defence Minister that I expect him and the army commanders to be suitably rewarded.”

The Colonel nodded.

“Of course, Comrade General Secretary.”
“That’s all, Comrade Colonel.”
“I serve the Soviet Union.” The military aide replied before leaving the office.

Once the Colonel had gone, the General Secretary went back to reading the rest of the day’s news. To his irritation, he read that the French were getting dangerously close to the border of Czechoslovakia. On top of that the Czechs were being typically worthless. Yes, something would need to be done there. At least the news from Greece and Turkey was better. Despite a NATO counterattack, the advance south was continuing.

2015 hours. Outside Odense, Fyn, Denmark.
“Got a visitor to see you, Sir.”

Acting Colonel Hugh Thompson looked up from the report he was reading.

“Send them in.”

Thompson had been given a temporary promotion and put in charge of an amphibious task force under the direct command of COMBALTAP. As well as his own 41 Commando, the force included the 2nd Amphibious Combat Group, Royal Netherlands Marine Corps, two companies of the 1. Seebataillon of the Bundesmarine, a Coastal Ranger Company from the Swedish 5th Amphibian Battalion, plus a detachment of the Danish Frømandskorpset. He did not have any artillery to support what the French would call a demi-brigade, but the Dutch had brought along six MO-120-RT 120mm rifled mortars. He also had enough landing craft of various sorts to put his Task Force ashore in two waves if necessary. So long as the transit was short.

“Lieutenant Colonel Aleamotuʻa, His Majesty’s Royal Tongan Marines, reporting for duty, Sir.”

Thompson was a little taken back by the large Pacific Islander who stood before him. He knew that the Tongan King had made a personal offer to the Queen to send a contingent of his marines to help during the Polish Crisis. While Her Majesty had gratefully accepted, it had taken a great deal of time for the FCO and MoD to iron out the specifics and by the time the Tongan contingent arrived in Britain, war had underway for some time. Complicating matters, both Australia and New Zealand had requested military assistance from Tonga. The Cyprus Green beret that the Tongan Lieutenant Colonel wore reminded Thompson that some of the Tongans had gone through the RM Commando course over the years.

“Sit down, Colonel. Can I get you anything?” Thompson replied. “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t expecting you. Security, I imagine.”
“Thank you, Sir, I’m fine.” Aleamotuʻa replied, taking the offered seat.
“I’m not sure how much you’ve been told about this force, so I’ll give you the rundown.” Thompson said. “Our brief is to act as an amphibious raiding force under the direct command of Commander Baltic Approaches. While amphibious raiding is our primary role, we did contribute to the heliborne raid on Copenhagen recently too. Our main target is the island of Zealand, but we could be used anywhere within this command’s area, or even beyond. We’ll also likely take part in the eventual liberation of Zealand. As part of that latter objective, we have been set the task of carrying out reconnaissance missions of likely landing beaches. I have some troops out tonight doing just that, as a matter of fact.
“Can I ask how many men you’ve brought with you, Colonel?”
“Two light infantry companies, Sir, so four hundred marines.” Aleamotuʻa said. “All of the officers and senior NCOs and around a third of the others have gone through your Commando Course. All of them have undergone training with the US Marine Corps and the Australian and New Zealand Defence Forces.”

Thompson nodded in acknowledgement. The Royal Tongan Marines had a good reputation for professionalism, so he was glad to have them under his command.

“I’d like to get started as soon as we can, Sir.” Aleamotuʻa continued. “Could I ask them some of my personnel be attached to your Royal Marines so that we can acclimatise before we start independent operations?”
“That would seem eminently sensible, Colonel.” Thompson replied. “I’ll introduce you to Colonel Morrison.”

Like Thompson, his second in command, William ‘Bill’ Morrison, had been given acting rank, becoming an Acting Lieutenant Colonel, when he had taken over 41 Commando.

“I’m sure he will be as pleased as me to have our Tongan brother marines join us.”

2201 hours GMT. South of Braunschweig, FRG.
The Royal Scots Dragoon Guards Battle Group had to refuel and ‘bomb-up’ its vehicles, before continuing the advance towards its objective – Helmstedt. While they had been carrying out this task, they had been joined by a small team from an army trials unit who had arrived in a pair of Land Rovers, a Pinzgauer and a single Warrior Armoured Battle Group Support Vehicle. Very few of these vehicles, a turretless variant of the IFV designed to replace the FV430 family, existed. Lt. Colonel Stevenson had noted that the ABGSV had what looked like some boxy missile launchers mounted on the roof. The Pinzgauer was towing a trailer which also had similar missile boxes on it.

Stevenson had noted that most of the small team seemed most unmilitary and had mentioned that to the Royal Horse Artillery Major commanding it. The Major had chuckled before replying.

“Most of them weren’t soldiers until a couple of weeks ago, Sir.” He replied. “They were defence contractors attached to our trials team. The MoD put them in uniform so they could come out here. They’re not a bad bunch, even if we have to keep an eye on them almost all of the time!”

Stevenson shook his head and smiled.

“Well, I hope they are having fun in the army!” He said. “So, what exciting things do you have for me. We seem to be the go-to battle group for combat testing!” [1]
“I take it you’ve heard of Spike-NLOS, Sir?”

The Colonel nodded.

“This is Exactor, which is basically our designation for that missile. My team have been trialling two versions of the missile – the Mark 2, which you can see mounted on the Warrior and the Mark 5, which is mounted on the trailer. Just to confuse things, the Mark 2 system fires Mark 2 and Mark 4 missiles.
“The Mark 2 was bought directly from Israeli war-stocks and came mounted on M113s, which were, not to mince my words, Sir, crap. They broke down all the time and it wasn’t as if we had an abundance of spare parts! So, eventually we got fed up and stripped the launchers and mounted them on some ‘Bulldogs’ and a couple of these vehicles.
“To make things easier we call the trailer system Exactor-2. It fires an improved missile and we’ve found that the trailer is easier to support, though we suspect it may be more vulnerable than a version mounted on an armoured vehicle. We have fired Mark.5 missiles from the Warrior, just to see if it could be done and its perfectly possible.” [2]
“What’s the range on the thing?” Stevenson asked.
“Thirty-two kilometres.” The Major replied. “She’ll take out pretty much anything you shoot her at – from tanks, light skinned vehicles, bunkers and even helicopters.”

The Colonel whistled through his teeth.

“Would mean we could practically hit targets in Helmstedt from here!
“What do you need from me, Major?”
“Well, we need to work with your artillery observation team and recce troop to pick out suitable targets. While we want to engage targets at maximum range, we also want to shoot at things closer in.”
“I’ll arrange for you to talk to them both, Major. However, you need to be ready to move out when we are.”
“We will be, Sir.”

2218 hours GMT. Fort Meade, Maryland.
Xavier R. Rostapopoulos walked through the office corridor of the NSA’s sub-department for technical Soviet air forces-related analysis, which he was the head of. Like hundreds of thousands of servicemen, servicewomen, and civil servants of all stripes across the world, he was overworked, under-rested and close to a caffeine-induced psychosis.
His annoyance came from the fact that he had been called from the first real time off that went beyond a few hours of sleep either on a cot in his office or at home with his wife, a trauma surgeon, being beside him just as often as not.
He accessed the shielded conference room by code card and retinal scan where he found a trio of rumpled, sallow-skinned, and bleary-eyed technical analysts who looked even more wrecked than he felt. They were his three best analysts, and whatever they had in store for him was very likely shit-hot and fresh intelligence.
First things first. He went to the restaurant-grade automatic coffee maker that stood in a corner and prepared a triple espresso, grimacing at the mere thought of drinking the stuff. When this shitshow was over, he’d go cold turkey on coffee. He was far from the only one. In fact, after cessation of hostilities, coffee consumption across the Western world would hit a sharp downturn as many people had had their fill for life.
When he had the beverage in hand, he took a deep belly breath, let out the air – woozaaaah - and addressed the informal leader of the trio.

“Okay, Dave, no sense grumping at you guys for calling me in not even ten hours after I left for my first complete day off since mid-April. I know you know your stuff. So: What did Ivan do now that is so important? Excite me.”
“X, appreciate your calmness. Riiight. Ah, here goes. SIGINT and ELINT intercepts from Europe, meaning Northern, Central, and Southern areas strongly suggest, with a probability approaching one that there has been a string of serious incidents across several Backfire bomber regiments, both DA and Redfleet. The bombers in question were on what turned out to be another terror bombing mission against most of NATO Europe. Those incidents occurred across roughly eighty, maybe ninety minutes, and…”

Rostapopoulos shook his head incredulously.

“Jeez Louise, DUDE! Can the bureaucratese, if you please. ‘Incident’ covers a f***ing spectrum from basically their air conditioning crapping out to the damn things spontaneously falling out of the sky. Time is sleep, get to it, okay?”
“Okay, X, cool it. Lemme shorten this. Tee-ell, dee-arr, you weren’t that far off the mark with Backfires dropping from the sky. Because they f***ing did.”
“WHAT? Are you k-”
“No, boss, we wouldn’t risk our lives. We know how important that day off is. Anyway. Ivan lost at least thirty, maybe as much as forty Backfires due to midair explosions. It looks a lot like the explosions was the warheads of the missiles loaded on the birds going boom directly on or very shortly after the launch command, so short a time, in fact, that it doesn’t make a difference. Our intercepts and those of GCHQ are corroborated by what the West Germans, Norwegians, Danes, Swedes and pretty much every country with a technical intelligence branch in Europe reported to us. The technical branch of the BND, the Federal Office for Communications Statistics not only intercepted the flyboys’ signals, they also managed to listen in on Ossie reports of plane parts raining down on the GDR that were small enough to conclude the Backfires were basically vaporized by the blasts. Only heavy loads of explosives can do that.”

He took a swig from a large coffee mug, grimacing. Another one who had learned to despise the stuff.

He harrumphed and went on.

“The Soviets are a) furious and b) absolutely flabbergasted. That was an understatement. It took them a few hours to lock down all involved airbases and start investigating.”

Rostapopulos sat back on the chair he had occupied in the meantime. His eyebrows had hiked up to his hairline.

“That is beyond remarkable. Wow. What is your preliminary assessment?”
“There are basically two possibilities. We can rule out NATO or USAF involvement. Our AAMs aren’t powerful enough and there were no F-22s doing penetration raids at that time and place. So, either Ivan’s quality control is even worse than we think it is, which is possible but not particularly realistic, or somebody committed one of the worst acts of sabotage I have ever heard of. We tend to lean towards the latter.”
“Yeah. As bad as we know it can be over there, nobody can be that abysmally bad. Mention it in the report anyway. For completeness’ sake. I also think it is sabotage. Now who could do such a thing?”

Dave rubbed a hand across his face and spoke.

“All three of us have at least some knowledge about programming, as you know. Somebody, probably a lone wolf type with one hell of a grudge, could have tampered with the targeting package and hidden code in the programming that would lead the missile guidance to interpret the launch impulse as the detonation command, or overwrite the course and distance part of the targeting pack and set the timer to zero. Whoever it did knew their stuff and is certainly not the janitor or the guy who cleans the missile bodies.”
“Sounds good to me. That’s a feather in your cap, gentlemen. Send me the report, and I’ll kick it upstairs. Good work. Really good work.”

2245 hours GMT. FDF wartime H.Q. Outside Helsinki, Finland.
“Admiral! The photos have arrived!”
“Ah, good, let’s see them!” Admiral Jan Kaskeala, Finland’s Chief of Defence, said enthusiastically. “I thought the plane had been shot down?”
“A volunteer soldier called Marin saved them. Sadly, the pilot and two soldiers trying to save him were killed when the crashed plane was hit by mortar fire.” The air force officer said as he laid out the photographs.

Photo Interpreters had already examined and annotated the photos. Identifying various features.

“Did you manage to spot the gun?” Admiral Kaskeala asked.
“Unfortunately, not, Admiral. What we did identify in these pictures is the Soviet constructing a new firing position. The gun is likely to be moved here soon.”
“I want this destroyed.” The admiral said, stabbing at one of the photos with his right index finger. “Can the Air Force do it?”

The Ilmavoimat officer nodded.

“The Swedes can do it with Taurus stand-off missiles. They’ll make a real mess of this site.” He assured the admiral.
“Well, they’d better.” Kaskeala declared. “The minister and the PM have made it very clear that they want us to stop this gun from randomly dropping big shells on the capital. We can’t give civilians enough warning to take shelter, so casualties are beginning to mount. Moreover, it’s only a matter of time before the Soviets hit something of real strategic value or cause a mass casualty event.”
“We’ll get the site, Sir, which will restrict the gun’s movements. Then we’ll get the gun itself.”

Kaskeala looked at the other members of his staff present.

“What I want to know is why with all the patrols from the Utti Jaeger Regiment’s Paratroop Company, and the reconnaissance units from the army and Border Guards, that the Soviets were able to move a giant railway gun, plus all the support it needs, from the border to a position where it can Helsinki? Why did nobody apparently notice it and I want to know if all the scheduled demolition of railway infrastructure actually happened.”

The senior army officer on Kaskeala who had responsibility for those units looked uncomfortable.

“I don’t have an answer for that, Sir.” He said. “We should have spotted it, in fact I’m sure that at least one of our units did spot it. I will personally look through all the reports that came in. I will take full responsibility if any reports reached this headquarters and were lost, or ignored.”
“I don’t need your resignation, Colonel.” Kaskeala replied. “I just need you to make sure that a major mistake like this does not happen again. We just can’t afford it.”

2305 hours GMT. Outside Cremlingen, FRG.
Captain Haig’s driver had edged the Scimitar as close to the edge of the wood as he dared. The recce troop’s vehicles had all been well camouflaged, so should not stand out, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The troop had pushed forward looking for suitable targets for the Exactor equipped trials team. As Cremlingen was the location of a major intersection between two autobahns, Haig was pretty sure that he would find a ‘target-rich’ environment. He was not going to be disappointed.

*

Captain Haig was not the first person to realise the strategic importance of the junction at Cremlingen. The Soviets had shelled and bombed it in the first few days of the war, with NATO forces doing the same once they had retreated to the west. Keeping the roads open had kept the engineers of several countries very busy and the fields near the junction had become graveyards for vehicles destroyed by enemy attacks. Such was the importance the Soviets gave to the junction, that they had stationed an air defence battery equipped with the very rare and new Pantsir-S1 (SA-22 Greyhound) to protect it. The battery had reduced air attacks on the junction to almost zero, with NATO forces now only carrying out occasional harassing artillery fire.

*

“Hmm, I spy a juicy target.” Haig muttered before typing out a quick message.

A few minutes a Spartan APC carrying the bathe group’s Forward Observer and his team pulled up next to Haig’s Scimitar.

“You see what I see, Bob?” Haig said to the Royal Artillery captain.
“A target well worthy of a few missiles, John.” Captain Robert ‘Bob’ Boyd, RA, replied. “Well, let’s have some fun.”

Boyd remounted his Spartan and plotted the locations of each of the vehicles of the Pantsir-S1 battery. He tapped out a message to the trials team, reflecting that the process would be a lot easier if the team had its own way of locating targets.

It took a few minutes, but the first two missiles came streaking in, one obliterating the Command Post vehicle, the other destroying a missile vehicle. The battery had been caught well and truly unawares, but to its credit, even without the now dead battery commander and his staff to co-ordinate, the battery began to react to the attack. The next pair of Exactor missiles did not get such an easy ride, one being shot down by a missile vehicle, although the second made it through to destroy the radar vehicle.

“Harumph.” Boyd said as he watched the second engagement. “Can’t be having them shooting down our missiles now.” He said, before quickly requesting artillery fire mission.

A few moments later airburst 155mm shells began to explode above the Pantsir battery. Artillery fragments destroyed the radar dish on one missile vehicle and thoroughly distracting the battery’s surviving personnel, so that the final pair of Exactors made it through unscathed, destroying two missile vehicles.

With three missile vehicles, the radar vehicle and crucially the Command Post vehicle destroyed, the Pantsir battery had been effectively neutralised. The single surviving missile vehicle would be withdrawn to reinforce another battery, leaving the junction at Cremlingen undefended from the air. By the time replacement air defence vehicles were available it did not matter anymore.

2357 hours GMT. NAS Whidbey Island, WA.
In the office trailer that was serving as the temporary Squadron Office for VA-175, “The Devil's Diplomats”, Commander Dawn Torres was actually pleased, for once. She had been outside an hour earlier, taking a break and getting some fresh air, when two A-6Es appeared overhead. The two Intruders were obviously already in the landing pattern, and when they did land, taxied up to the hangar next to the trailer-The crews dismounted from the aircraft as the ground crews took over, and they came over to her. Both crews were hers, and they then told her the two aircraft were theirs. And they had the paperwork to show for it. Good. The squadron now had six aircraft on strength, but there were two more down at Davis-Monthan for them-and hopefully, more. Six birds and four full crews, and there were several others undergoing a brief refresher training program with VA-128 before coming over to join her squadron-though she wouldn't be surprised if Commander Greg Sawyer, the other E squadron CO on the base with VA-215, tried to poach some for his squadron.

Commander Torres told the two crews to get some rest, for they would be heading back to Tucson tomorrow to pick up those two A-6s and bring them back to Whidbey. Then, she hoped, real squadron training could begin, with eight aircraft and (hopefully) eight full crews. Though there was a problem: hardly any KA-6Ds were available at AMARC, and most of those that had gone out went to VA-205 when they were replacing aircraft lost with the America sinking. VA-304 no doubt had some, but she was wondering how her squadron would handle the tanker mission, especially since CVW-16 would not have any S-3s assigned, in all likelihood. A thought entered her mind as she went back to the trailer and found T-Rex, the XO, at his desk.

“Skipper.” T-Rex said. “Saw we got two new birds.”
“We did. And those crews need to get back down to AMARC tomorrow. Two more birds waiting for us.”
“More than that.” T-Rex said. Lieutenant Commander Jason Clark had been her B/N, but with new crews coming in, that had changed. But he was still her closest confidante in the squadron. He handed her a message form. “Two more with our squadron number down there in three days.”

Commander Torres thought for a moment. Ten birds meant they would be up to strength in strike aircraft, but they would be hard-pressed for the tanker mission. If they were authorized to get a full dozen Es, that would help. But...

“I've got an idea. With hardly any Ds down in the boneyard, we need tankers.”

T-Rex noticed his CO was deep in thought.

“You've got something cooking, Skipper. I can tell.”

Torres grinned.

“You got it. Find out-either from -128 or Medium Attack/Electronic Warfare Wing Pacific-if they know how many Es at AMARC are G-limited. Say, 2.5 to 3 Gs. We'd never take them down low into the weeds to drop on Ivan or Saddam, but...”
“They can still carry stuff on their pylons, and that means a D-704 Buddy Store centreline and four full wing tanks.” T-Rex finished. “And that's all they do. I like it, Skipper. And yeah, before you ask, I do know a couple of people at Medium Attack Wing. I'll touch base with 'em.”
“Do it. Today.”

T-Rex nodded.
“Will do, Skipper.”

There was a knock on the door of the trailer, and Torres yelled.

“Come in!”

Lieutenant Commander Bill Redmond, a Senior Flight Instructor at VA-128, came in.

“Dawn, just wanted to see how you're going, and just wanted to drop in for a chat.” Both of them knew each other from Flight Training and VA-128's E course.
“Doing fine, Bill.” Commander Torres said. “How are you holding up?”

Word had gone around the A-6 Community that Bill's wife, Lieutenant Commander Kristine Redmond, was a POW in North Korea. And she also noticed that Bill had a POW-MIA bracelet on his right wrist.

Redmond nodded.

“Staying busy, for one thing. I can't deploy, but I can get people ready to go, and I guess that's going to be my war. It could be worse, though.”

T-Rex grimaced. He knew full well what Redmond meant.

“Either you're stuck in a nonflying job, or in Training Command, hollering like hell to get out.”

If that had been his case, he'd be doing that at the top of his lungs.

“Yeah. And before you ask, Dawn, no word direct from Kris.”

Torres nodded, this time grimly.

“No letter yet, then.” It wasn't a question. “She was on CNN yesterday, though. Some 'Peace' delegation haranguing her and two other POWs.” She spat.
“Yeah, and a few of the guys, too,” Redmond said. “I saw it all. I'm damned glad to see she's still alive, but when you saw those long pyjama sleeves....” His voice trailed off at that, knowing what that meant.

Both Torres and Clark nodded. They knew full well from SERE.

“Well, Bill, there's a silver lining to that,” Torres said.
“And that is?” Redmond asked.
“When those 'Peace' types come back from NK-land? The FBI's waiting to put cuffs on 'em.”

Both could see an evil-looking grin on Redmond's face.

“I like that a lot, Dawn. Thanks.” He took out his card. “I know you were talking to somebody else at -128. But....You guys need something, call me and I'll work my ass off for you.”
“Thanks, Bill.” Torres said.

Commander Redmond turned to leave, then said.

“Dawn, I'm jealous of you guys.”
“Jealous?” Torres replied, a bit surprised. “What do you mean by that? We've been busier than a one-armed paperhanger getting this unit up and running.” And she silently added, And you know it.
“Simple, Dawn. You can deploy, and probably will. I can't and won't.” Redmond paused. “Oh, T-Rex? There's a barbeque place in Oak Harbor run by a guy who's a Texan by birth. With your appetite? Don't get banned from that place. Or the Crab Pot in Seattle, for that matter. They've got a couple of large seafood meals, and you could probably put both away.”

Everyone laughed, glad to have something to joke about, then Redmond left, closing the door behind him.

“Glad you're not in that fix, Skipper?” T-Rex asked.

Torres nodded.
“In a heartbeat,” she sighed. “I'm going for some lunch, then a training hop with my new B/N. Before you fly this afternoon? I want some answers on those G-limited Es.”


2359 hours GMT. Outside Weißenohe, FRG.
“Looks like we’re up against putain Czechs again, mes enfants.” Maréchal des logis-chef Artois told his Leclerc peloton as the three tanks crossed Bundesstraße 2. “But keep your eyes open and don’t underestimate them, over.”

While the Czechs had, earlier in the war, been scattered by counterattacks that had routed them, the closer NATO forces got to the Czech border, the harder many of their units fought. Especially against West German forces.

*

Up ahead of Artois’ peloton a detachment of AMX-10RC and VBL of 1er Escadron d'Éclairage Divisionnaire had encountered the reconnaissance elements of the Czech 4th Tank Division. A sharp clash with the Czech unit, which was equipped with the OT-65 and BVP-2, left vehicles on both sides on fire, but with the French ascendent. They pushed forward until they encountered a tank company equipped with the T-72M1. The French commander sensibly fell back on the forward elements of the 1er Régiment de Cuirassiers, rather than slug it out with enemy tanks.

*

“Here comes Robert’s boys.” Artois commented, as he spotted AMX-10RC and VBLs approaching.

One of the AMX-10RC and a VBL suddenly exploded one after the other.

“Merde!” Artois exclaimed. “Putain Czechs!” He added as he scanned for a target. “Got you! Gunner, target tank! Load fin!”
“Got it, Chef!”
“Fire!”

The 120mm fin round struck the T-72M1 of the 7th Tank Regiment, the Depleted Uranium tipped round passing through its armour as if it was made of paper. The Czech tank’s turret headed for orbit as its ammunition detonated. Artois was already searching for a second target.

*

A fierce encounter battle developed between the 1er Régiment de Cuirassiers and the 7th Tank Regiment. While the French were outnumbered, their superior training and equipment told, and the Czech regiment was effectively destroyed. With the tank regiment destroyed, a hole was torn in the 4th Tank Division, into which troops from 1èr Division Blindée poured, forcing the remainder of the Czech division to retreat in a hurry.

*

Artois’ peloton was amongst the French troops who had broken into the rear of the Czech division. While accompanying VBCI shot up some trucks with their 25mm cannons, Artois looked for a target worthy of his Leclerc. An OT-64A SKOT unwisely emerged from cover as it attempted to escape from the rampaging French armoured vehicles. Artois spotted it and decided to try something.

“Gunner, target APC! Engage with co-ax!”

The French NCO had read that Armoured Piercing rounds fired by his tank’s co-axial 12.7mm Browning HMG could penetrate the armour of most Warsaw Pact APCs. The OT-64A had just given him the chance to see if that was true.

***

[1] The battle group already had a mortar section equipped with the FV527 Warrior armed with a 120mm turret mounted breach-loading mortar, as well as the attached infantry company being equipped with the FV520 Warrior 2.

[2] Information on EXACTOR and EXACTOR -2 can be found here.

[Bernard Woolley]

Accompanying Pictures

[Eaglenine2]

So what happened to 9th Infantry?

Wil Exactor become a Royal Artillery asset?

Question how does the Fins not notice a railway being laid?

[jemhouston]

Good chapter. Everyone is getting their second wind for the next push.

I thought Fort Meade was hit by cruise missiles a few days ago. (Story time).

[James1978]

I thought Fort Meade was hit by cruise missiles a few days ago. (Story time).

Not directly, IIRC. They were however affected by the attacks on the power grid in the northeastern United States.

[James1978]

Good chapter!

Eager to find out just what really happened to US 9th ID.

Regarding G-limited aircraft from AMARC, at least with naval aircraft, they've also got to find aircraft that aren't trapped out. Well, at least if they want to go to sea.

Keep up the good work!

[jemhouston]

Even if they're trapped out, they'd still be useful for state side training.

[Johnnie Lyle]

He went to the restaurant-grade automatic coffee maker that stood in a corner and prepared a triple espresso, grimacing at the mere thought of drinking the stuff. When this shitshow was over, he’d go cold turkey on coffee. He was far from the only one. In fact, after cessation of hostilities, coffee consumption across the Western world would hit a sharp downturn as many people had had their fill for life.

This is interesting, because it doesn’t not appear to have happened during the COVID-19 pandemic, especially that first year when we didn’t have staff set up, and so it was routine for key personnel to routinely work 12-16 hr days and not coffee out.

On the flip side, it does look like they have not yet fully accepted its a marathon not a sprint, and so don’t have a good long war routine in place.

The French NCO had read that Armoured Piercing rounds fired by his tank’s co-axial 12.7mm Browning HMG could penetrate the armour of most Warsaw Pact APCs. The OT-64A had just given him the chance to see if that was true.

Nice shout out to Team Yankee.

[Jotun]

What a long chapter with lots of stuff happening.

Considering the railway gun the Sovs somehow managed to bring into range of Helsinki, I am looking forward to learning how the Finns may have overlooked it. My money too is on the report having been lost in an avalanche of other reports. No sense in having heads roll, just tidy up the procedures.

Am I the only one who is amused by the fact that somebody saw fit to send two battalions of Tangan Marines (didn't even know they had them ) literally halfway around the globe to fight in a comparatively cold and wet climate? I like it, just as I liked Singapore subordinating their A-4 squadron to NATO. I like your thinking.

The Spike-NLOS is an interesting piece of kit. Is it still an ATGM or already a very short-legged cruise missile?

Matt, would the pilots of the squadron take turns manning/womanning the clappewd-out tankers? Or would somebody draw a short straw and remain saddled with the packhorses?

So what happened to 9th Infantry?

Keep in mind that the briefer was talking to the Chairman of the CPSU who has been known in this story to have officers executed if they did not perform to certain standards. The grain of salt should be humongous...this is of course only my opinion.

He went to the restaurant-grade automatic coffee maker that stood in a corner and prepared a triple espresso, grimacing at the mere thought of drinking the stuff. When this shitshow was over, he’d go cold turkey on coffee. He was far from the only one. In fact, after cessation of hostilities, coffee consumption across the Western world would hit a sharp downturn as many people had had their fill for life.

This is interesting, because it doesn’t not appear to have happened during the COVID-19 pandemic, especially that first year when we didn’t have staff set up, and so it was routine for key personnel to routinely work 12-16 hr days and not coffee out.

On the flip side, it does look like they have not yet fully accepted its a marathon not a sprint, and so don’t have a good long war routine in place.

Since that one is my contribution, let me just say that the slightly snarky tone wrote itself. WW3 is what, four weeks old by now? No Such Agency's HQ ate a missile a few weeks back, the whole agency is busier than a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest, and contrary to peacetime, the higher-ups want their assessments the day before yesterday, so establishing a somewhat workable schedule that does not burn the staff out may be longer coming than you think it should.
I have suffered from overwork and fatigue myself more than once, so I decided that I'd turn the memories I have of those times up to eleven. Factor in the USA's general "work till you drop" ethic, especially in a war setting where your work might save and/or cost lives and you basically have what I wrote.

Anyway.
Thanks for the chapter and as always, a joy and honor to contribute!

[Matt Wiser]

I'm back from my trip, so I can finally comment: BZ, Jan as usual, and so let's get with it.

Comrade Renko is glad to have some good news-and ComBaltFront will likely be breathing a sigh of relief-and his army commanders as well... The won't be "Relived of command and Earthly concerns." (read: liquidated)

The NSA no doubt has its share of geeks and nerds.

Spike-NLOS can be very, very dangerous.

Finding that gun is going to take some work. More recon-air and SOF behind the lines, then you find a way to take that monster out.

Point taken on trap limits as well as G-limits. The former won't be a concern if the squadron doesn't go to sea, though. As for crews, everyone takes their turn at tanker duty. Even the CO and XO. It's not just JOs, but everyone. In the Gulf, though, there's enough tankers in-theater that the A-6 squadrons don't need to configure their Fs for tanker runs, and the S-3s, with no subs to hunt, go out even on a Surface Search mission with a fuel tank and a buddy store, just in case.

Great job, and get with 368!

[Jotun]

I'm back from my trip, so I can finally comment: BZ, Jan as usual, and so let's get with it.

Comrade Renko is glad to have some good news-and ComBaltFront will likely be breathing a sigh of relief-and his army commanders as well... The won't be "Relived of command and Earthly concerns." (read: liquidated)

The NSA no doubt has its share of geeks and nerds.

Spike-NLOS can be very, very dangerous.

Finding that gun is going to take some work. More recon-air and SOF behind the lines, then you find a way to take that monster out.

Point taken on trap limits as well as G-limits. The former won't be a concern if the squadron doesn't go to sea, though. As for crews, everyone takes their turn at tanker duty. Even the CO and XO. It's not just JOs, but everyone. In the Gulf, though, there's enough tankers in-theater that the A-6 squadrons don't need to configure their Fs for tanker runs, and the S-3s, with no subs to hunt, go out even on a Surface Search mission with a fuel tank and a buddy store, just in case.

Great job, and get with 368!

So where could the "new" squadron be sent? Europe? Central area or Southeast would be my SWAG. East Asia? Korea, then.

[Bernard Woolley]

So what happened to 9th Infantry?

Eager to find out just what really happened to US 9th ID.

Keep in mind that the briefer was talking to the Chairman of the CPSU who has been known in this story to have officers executed if they did not perform to certain standards. The grain of salt should be humongous...this is of course only my opinion.

The General Secretary was being told a 'spun' version of the events of Chapter 362 .

Wil Exactor become a Royal Artillery asset?

Yes, indeed it already is.

Question how does the Fins not notice a railway being laid?

Now that is a very good question!

Good chapter. Everyone is getting their second wind for the next push.

Thanks, appreciate that.

Keep up the good work!

Will do my best!

Nice shout out to Team Yankee.

It was Lt. Garger that tried it in TY. At least here, Artois doesn't need to go heads out to use the HMG.

My money too is on the report having been lost in an avalanche of other reports. No sense in having heads roll, just tidy up the procedures.

I'd say your money is fairly safe.

I like it, just as I liked Singapore subordinating their A-4 squadron to NATO. I like your thinking.

Their marines are their main ground force. The closest they have to an 'army' is the Royal Tongan Guards. I can't take the credit for this, though, it was Mark B's idea to sent the RTM to Europe.

The Spike-NLOS is an interesting piece of kit. Is it still an ATGM or already a very short-legged cruise missile?

It's as it is in @.

Anyway.
Thanks for the chapter and as always, a joy and honor to contribute!

You're very welcome and appreciate your help.

Comrade Renko is glad to have some good news-and ComBaltFront will likely be breathing a sigh of relief-and his army commanders as well... The won't be "Relived of command and Earthly concerns." (read: liquidated)

Even if the 'news' is a little exaggerated 'spun'.

Finding that gun is going to take some work. More recon-air and SOF behind the lines, then you find a way to take that monster out.

Air recce is one thing that the Finns will be asking NATO to send.

Great job, and get with 368!

Thanks again and will do!

[Jotun]

The Spike-NLOS is an interesting piece of kit. Is it still an ATGM or already a very short-legged cruise missile?

It's as it is in @.

Finding that gun is going to take some work. More recon-air and SOF behind the lines, then you find a way to take that monster out.

Air recce is one thing that the Finns will be asking NATO to send.

Thanks again and will do!

I really was wondering - quite idly, I admit - if a missile like that could be counted as being at least on the edge between ATGM and cruise missile, given its range and variety of targets it can be used against...

Air recce. Given the situation over Finland, would that be a combat reconnaissance mission with a strike and Wild Weasel force built around the mission or would NATO risk precious airborne reconnaissance assets without backup....?

[James1978]

RE: Spike NLOS
I tend to look at Spike NLOS (and MGM-157) as akin to a short range GMLRS with command guidance.

[Jotun]

RE: Spike NLOS
I tend to look at Spike NLOS (and MGM-157) as akin to a short range GMLRS with command guidance.

Auch gut. Works for me^^

[James1978]

Air recce. Given the situation over Finland, would that be a combat reconnaissance mission with a strike and Wild Weasel force built around the mission or would NATO risk precious airborne reconnaissance assets without backup....?

If only a NATO air force had a stealth asset with built in recon capability that could operate in daylight and drop PGMs . . .
Wait a second. What are those handful of F-24Bs the UK flew home up to?

[Jotun]

Air recce. Given the situation over Finland, would that be a combat reconnaissance mission with a strike and Wild Weasel force built around the mission or would NATO risk precious airborne reconnaissance assets without backup....?

If only a NATO air force had a stealth asset with built in recon capability that could operate in daylight and drop PGMs . . .
Wait a second. What are those handful of F-24Bs the UK flew home up to?

Auch gut. Works for me^^

[Johnnie Lyle]

He went to the restaurant-grade automatic coffee maker that stood in a corner and prepared a triple espresso, grimacing at the mere thought of drinking the stuff. When this shitshow was over, he’d go cold turkey on coffee. He was far from the only one. In fact, after cessation of hostilities, coffee consumption across the Western world would hit a sharp downturn as many people had had their fill for life.

This is interesting, because it doesn’t not appear to have happened during the COVID-19 pandemic, especially that first year when we didn’t have staff set up, and so it was routine for key personnel to routinely work 12-16 hr days and not coffee out.

On the flip side, it does look like they have not yet fully accepted its a marathon not a sprint, and so don’t have a good long war routine in place.

Since that one is my contribution, let me just say that the slightly snarky tone wrote itself. WW3 is what, four weeks old by now? No Such Agency's HQ ate a missile a few weeks back, the whole agency is busier than a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest, and contrary to peacetime, the higher-ups want their assessments the day before yesterday, so establishing a somewhat workable schedule that does not burn the staff out may be longer coming than you think it should.
I have suffered from overwork and fatigue myself more than once, so I decided that I'd turn the memories I have of those times up to eleven. Factor in the USA's general "work till you drop" ethic, especially in a war setting where your work might save and/or cost lives and you basically have what I wrote.

The only unrealistic bit I found was reduced coffee consumption postwar. That hasn’t played out post-COVID, at least in the US.

The rest makes sense, especially a national security apparatus that hasn’t twigged to things being a long war, rather than a very short one. It’s a BIG mistake, but it’s a reasonable mistake they would make.

Though, depending upon who got blown up, work-life balance may improve, or get worse.

The rest

[Jotun]

This is interesting, because it doesn’t not appear to have happened during the COVID-19 pandemic, especially that first year when we didn’t have staff set up, and so it was routine for key personnel to routinely work 12-16 hr days and not coffee out.

On the flip side, it does look like they have not yet fully accepted its a marathon not a sprint, and so don’t have a good long war routine in place.

Since that one is my contribution, let me just say that the slightly snarky tone wrote itself. WW3 is what, four weeks old by now? No Such Agency's HQ ate a missile a few weeks back, the whole agency is busier than a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest, and contrary to peacetime, the higher-ups want their assessments the day before yesterday, so establishing a somewhat workable schedule that does not burn the staff out may be longer coming than you think it should.
I have suffered from overwork and fatigue myself more than once, so I decided that I'd turn the memories I have of those times up to eleven. Factor in the USA's general "work till you drop" ethic, especially in a war setting where your work might save and/or cost lives and you basically have what I wrote.

The only unrealistic bit I found was reduced coffee consumption postwar. That hasn’t played out post-COVID, at least in the US.

The rest makes sense, especially a national security apparatus that hasn’t twigged to things being a long war, rather than a very short one. It’s a BIG mistake, but it’s a reasonable mistake they would make.

Though, depending upon who got blown up, work-life balance may improve, or get worse.

The rest

I wrote the coffee thing on a lark. Thr muse wouldn‘t shut up. I first mentioned excessive coffee consumption in the Regierungsbunker piece and somewhere along the way, I turned it into a running gag. I also mentioned alternatives like tea and little red pills(tm). But yeah, I see your point. It was a bit much…

[James1978]

Random musing here, but it's not beyond belief that the global price of coffee will go up due to supply shortages, causing people to drink less.
Indonesia (#4 producer) is in in the process of imploding/fragmenting in a way that might be quite bloody.
It's also possible that various communist guerilla groups in Latin America will go active and cause issues there. I'm thinking FARC in Colombia (#3 producer) in particular.