War - The Battle for West Germany, page 1
War – The Battle for West Germany
By Charles Miller
Copyright 2012 Charles Miller
War – The Battle for West Germany
“Beep… Beep… Beep…Beep..Beep.Beep GARRRRRRR” I pulled the trigger and the 1.5 meter long missile popped out of the FM-92 Stinger, riding on a small ejection motor that alleviated any danger of backblast to me or people behind me. In less than a second the main motor fired, streaking the missile at mach 2 toward its target, only 500 meters away and closing fast. The missile ignored the countermeasures fired by the pilot of the Mi-24 attack helicopter. The pilot swerved hard to the right, but the missile connected with the tail of the helicopter. The warhead exploded on contact, nearly severing the rigid tail from the airframe. The tail rotor was immobilized, making the helicopter spin. The pilot had almost no control; he didn’t have enough speed to keep going straight, and cannot hold the aircraft in one direction to attain the required speed to stop the spinning.
He’s doomed, and he knows it, he radioed the gunner, telling him to brace for crash landing. The gunner complied, this is the moment that he has feared his entire career as a gunner, no control, all he could do was trust the pilot, who still had control over the main rotor, but no control over the directional rotor.
I watched the crippled helicopter, what was once a fearful beast of the sky was put down by a 3 kilogram explosive. The helicopter continued over my head and crashed into the woods that my squad and I are holding out in. No fireball was seen, but no one could escape a crash like that alive, or at least uninjured. The rest of the team looked at me with relief. If that monster would have had the chance to unleash its S8 HE explosive rockets at us, we would all be dead. Each one has double the explosive power of my Stinger, and the Mi-24 could carry 40 of them.
We may have been safe from danger for the moment, but the tell-tale smoke trail left by my Stinger had given away our position, and anyone in the woods across the valley could have seen us. We got up to move, but the radio man alerted us to two enemy Armored Personnel Carriers coming out of the woods. The squad leader brought up his binoculars, and called out two BMP-2s, most likely loaded with infantry. Any other squad wouldn’t stand a chance, but we are the platoon’s weapon squad. We had very few riflemen and a lot of big guns, and men that carry ammunition for the big guns.
We were outfitted with the M47 Dragon ATGM (Anti-Tank Guided Missile) system. It isn’t fire and forget, so we were required to hold the sight on the target all the way until impact. It takes skill, but our AT man is well acquainted with it. We called him god, because he had the power to stop the mightiest beasts of war with one shot. He kneeled and prepared to fire. He had to steady himself, as the release of the heavy missile could throw him off balance enough to lose the target in his targeting sight.
At that moment, 20 meters behind us the trigger of a Makarov 9mm pistol was pressed three times, the first went right under the left arm of god, the second hit him square in the shoulder, and the third hit him to the left of his spine, it fragmented into his heart and killed him. The first person to respond was the rifleman at the back of the squad. He wheeled his M16A2 rifle around and fired four shots right as the already wounded pilot was moving on to the next target. The first hit the pilot in the stomach, the second missed, the third hit him in the upper body, and the fourth 5.56mm bullet found the pilot’s neck.
The BMP noticed the firing and opened up with the 30mm autocannon in the turret. The rounds flying over our heads drop us to the ground, we knew one hit would kill us instantly. We were behind a slight rise, allowing us some cover, but it wasn’t perfect cover by far. I started crawling toward the Dragon. I was the only one else who is qualified for it. Luckily as I was crawling the firing stopped, so I managed to haul the thing on my shoulder. I put the target right on the aiming reticle and fired. It’s a lot like the Stinger, the launch is dry, and then the rocket motor kicks in, keeping the missile in line all the way to the target.
It impacted with a bright flash, but besides that there is no further obvious damage, until smoke started coming out that hatch, which was soon opened and two soldiers climbed out, burned and bleeding. The smoke increased in intensity until it grew to a large fire. In about a minute, a series of small, and the occasional large, explosion could be heard. The second BMP stopped and opened the back doors.
One of the riflemen handed me a spare Dragon missile and I reloaded the launcher. I set my sights on the second APC just as I did on the first. I fired, and the missile hit the top of the turret, tearing right into the ammo cache, creating catastrophic results: the turret was nearly blown off, and the 30mm ammunition started popping off.
Before the missile struck, most of the men were able to get out; they formed up and started laying down suppressive fire on our position. They were at about 300meters at this point, and we set up our two M60 machine guns. The M60 was a fearsome weapon; it could throw 7.62mm rounds down range at a maximum speed of 600 rounds per minute. And the gunners took turns reloading and firing. The rest of the squad and I picked our shots, trying to take out the suppressed enemy. I managed to take out their PKM gunner before he could set up his weapon.
Within minutes their understrength squad was silenced. We lost one other man; an assistant machine gunner was shot by the PKM after another enemy soldier managed to pick it up. The rest of us were okay, and ready to move on.
The squad leader led us through the woods, skirting the edge of the valley. We were headed back toward the rest of our company, which is situated in clumps of trees overlooking the vast valley. On the other side is another tree line much like the one we are in. Only this one is full of the enemy.
The war had started the day before, officially, but we are still to see a major offensive by the enemy. We know the offensive is coming, but we don’t know when, so all we can do is wait.
It turned out we didn’t have to wait long. The artillery started within a few hours. It started with deep booms in the distance. We knew what was coming, so we went to our M113s and crammed inside. They were old, smelly, and small. But they offered the protection we needed, so we didn’t complain.
The first shells landed behind us. We had no idea what size shells were being hurtled our way, but they definitely didn’t sound small. The next volley landed in front of us, rocking our APCs. The third volley had us zeroed in. They landed right in the midst of our formation on the hill. In sync with the devastating explosions and concussion waves, we could feel and hear the shrapnel bouncing off our steel walls. We couldn’t see anything. All we could do was wait.
200 meters away the gunner of an M1A1 Abrams was scanning the area with thermal vision. He could see right through the chaos of the battle around him. He was scanning the opposing hillside for the telltale heat signatures of an armored vehicle’s engine and the warm bodies of enemy troops. It wasn’t common practice for an enemy to initiate an armored assault during their own artillery barrage. But the diligence of one US Army tank gunner would end up saving many lives.
Across the front the enemy had attacked the same way they always have, the way they were trained. They waited until the barrage was over. This was a common practice to avoid friendly fire and unnecessary casualties. The Americans knew this, so they were focused on the danger of the artillery barrage around them. Praying they wouldn’t be hit directly, which would mean certain death in most cases.
The gunner spotted something. At first he thought it was a glitch in the new thermal imaging technology, but then the lens corrected for brightness and the shapes of nearly a hundred armored vehicles outlined themselves against the cold woodland behind them. Fear shot through his body, and then training took over.
Being at the top of his class at the tank training school at Ft. Knox, Kentucky, he was assigned to the company leader’s tank. He sent a message through vehicle coms to his commander, putting what he saw in front of him in words. The commander then took action, first telling his gunner to fire at will, then radioing the rest of his company’s platoon leaders, who filtered the threat down the chain. The Captain then radioed for support. The gunner set his sights on the commanding tank, the one with far more antennas than the others, and pressed the trigger.
He started an unstoppable chain reaction. The electric pulse from the trigger went to the firing pin, which struck the end of an APFSDS (armour piercing fin-stabilized discarding sabot) round. Much like a bullet, the powder stored in a separate casing explodes, launching the Sabot out the end of the 120mm M256 smoothbore cannon. Once outside the muzzle, the sabot falls off. Leaving only a 615mm depleted uranium penetrator.
It emerged from the smoke and dust from the artillery bombardment moving at 5,500 ft/s, traveled 2500 meters, and struck the T-80-AK just under where the turret and the main frontal armor meet. The penetrator entered the tank and fractured into tiny, extremely hot pieces of dense metal. The crew of the Soviet company commander’s tank didn’t stand a chance, they were killed instantly.
The rest of the company heard the explosion, but couldn’t find the attackers, they immediately wrote off the American force under bombardment, as they were shrouded by heavy dust and smoke. They continued to scan the area as the rest of the American company initiated their counter-attack.
The American commander’s tank bucked back in its position, the loader flew the breach open, and slammed another shell into the waiting hole. He closed the breach and screamed, “UP!”.
The Captain realized the tactical opportu
“All tanks, fire!”
The result was devastating. 20 M1A1 Abrams opened up in near unison, sending their Sabot rounds into the enemy’s positions. Some tanks were hit twice, but most rounds found unique targets, eliminating them instantly.
“All units, Fire at will!”
The loaders completed their one job flawlessly; they had practiced hundreds of times. They were faster than any machine could be, and they were damn proud of their skill.
While the American’s were reloading, the Soviets found their targets. The muzzle flashes gave away the American’s positions and the artillery barrage had stopped a minute before. The sheer power of the American’s shots had cleared away much of the dust. It was an open brawl.
What was left of the T80s opened fire, followed by the T72s behind them. The supporting BMP’s launched their ATGMs (Anti-tank Guided Missiles). The American’s TOW launchers opened up, and the M113’s dismounted their troops. The fight was fast and violent. Both sides took heavy losses, but the Soviets could afford the losses.
This attack was part of a plan to create a break in the American Lines. They had amassed armored vehicles behind their spearhead, and the US Army didn’t have enough to stop it. They fell back and called for support. The flashpoint between the two Companies soon escalated into the defining battle of the fight for West Germany.
