Soldiers and Marines Saga, page 59
American and western news media spent most of the day confirming Marshal Petrovsky’s conclusions. The television coverage constantly switched back and forth between live coverage of the battle for Berlin—to breathless reports from their military correspondents in Brussels who had nothing to report except rumors—to a constant stream of “military experts” being interviewed as to the significance of the Warsaw Pact armies breaking through the German lines and General Roberts’ brief interview.
By and large, at least for most of the day, the “experts” and correspondents agree with Marshal Petrovsky—the significant thing is the breakthrough. NATO, they sadly told each other all morning, might have to sue for peace.
******
By early afternoon the magnitude and implications of the NATO seaborne invasion, the loss of Magdeburg and the extent of their airfields losses, and the confirmation that the Russian East will be totally cut off from Moscow for years, finally began to be understood at Russian Military Headquarters. Even so, for most of the day the Russian general staff and the western media continued to believe they were the last gasp of a defeated NATO.
The first significant confirmation that things might not be as they initially appear came when the West German news media begins providing extensive coverage of the arrival of boatloads of East Germans from the Baltic coast. It is from the refugees’ description of the size of the West German invasion forces that the Russian military and the western media finally realized that a massive seaborne invasion of East Germany is underway and has been going on for almost twenty-four hours.
That was followed by a call from Marshal Petrovsky requesting an emergency meeting of the military committee. The Defense Minister is a professional and he pulled no punches.
“Comrade Chairman, I regret to report that we have suffered some serious setbacks. Reports from Magdeburg, from the garrison in the city that is, say that both General Shelepin’s headquarters and the Magdeburg airfield have fallen to successful assaults by NATO airborne forces. We are unable to contact either of them. NATO parachutists are also reported to have taken many of our airfields and a large force of NATO armor is now causing confusion and damage by operating on both sides of the border between the two Germanys.”
“Comrades, the situation for our forces in West Germany is, to put it plainly, is not going well. Nuclear weapons may be our only alternative to win the war.”
The extent of the disaster become even more apparent when the Czech prime minister called the Soviet Chairman again later in the afternoon, more hysterical than ever.
“I just received word that many thousands of Czech troops in Germany have just been overrun and annihilated. Our power plants and refineries are destroyed, all of them; we have not even electricity or telephones or petrol, for God’s sake. Our factories and bakeries are closed and all of our airports are occupied by the British and Americans. We are ruined. How is this possible? You assured us victory was certain. What are we to do?”
****** General Roberts
Today’s 2200 conference call with the President and the National Security Council was confusing. There are obviously more people present at the other end than just the President and the Security Council members. And they seem to be more interested in talking about good news instead of discussing how the war is proceeding and our plans to pursue it.
“Yes, Mr. President, we have Berlin and control of key sites in some of the Warsaw Pact countries, at least temporarily. But, as you know, we are expecting counter-attacks and some of them, perhaps many of them, will be successful. The reality is that battles are raging everywhere. So I cannot even begin to give you an estimate of the final casualty figures and ratios for our side let alone theirs.
“Yes, Mr. President, our ferry and forest panzer forces appear to be having great success and, yes, it seems large numbers of East Germans are rushing to the Baltic ports we have captured and are begging for transportation to the West—which we are providing to the extent we can.”
From the follow up questions and comments it sounded as if everybody in Washington had been watching the now highly favorable media reports about Berlin and the refugees fleeing East Germany and think the war is almost over.
They seem to be particularly taken aback and disappointed when, after I told them how well things have gone in the past twenty-four hours, I told them that the intensity and casualties of the war are continuing to increase and that the war is nowhere near coming to an end.
I could be wrong but I am increasingly getting the feeling that White House staff are present and asking for material they can put into a “mission accomplished” political speech and use to affect next year’s elections.
Finally, in response to one particularly irrelevant question, I ask “who is speaking, please?”
It was the President’s Press Secretary.
“Are you a member of the National Security Council and cleared to attend this meeting,” I asked. I know damn well she isn’t. I have the list of members in front of me.
There is a long pause. Then the President said, “uh, I asked Jane to sit in.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. President,” I say with an angry and bitter tone to my voice, “I was under the impression I was having a confidential discussion about our war plans with members of the National Security Council. Not your fucking campaign staff and press secretary. I do not feel comfortable continuing this briefing. I’m sure you understand.”
The President seemed confused as to what he had done. “Uh.. yes, we’ll convene the Council later.”… “Uh.. thank you.”
Klausen, Macefield, and I just stare at each other. Finally, we shake our heads and got back to work. The United States’ Fifth Division is running seriously low on ammunition and this is the first we’ve known about it.
******
Otto and I were still sitting there discussing our forthcoming moves and speculating as to how the Russians might attempt to counter them when, about ten minutes later, Dick Spelling called.
“Guns, I’m sorry. Before the meeting started I specifically asked why the President’s media and political people were there and was told you’d been informed.”
“Well. Whoever told you that lied to you. I wasn’t informed and I’m not at all happy about those people knowing our plans. I think we need an intensive security check on everyone who was not supposed to be there and, particularly, everyone who was involved in getting them into that room. And they all sure as hell need to be seriously counseled about what’s going to happen to them if they don’t keep their mouths shut.”
“Way ahead of you,” Dick said. “I just got off the phone with ‘what’s his face’ over at the FBI. The little weasel is elated at a chance to get more dirt on the politicians. He’s going to run an immediate security check on everyone who was there and particularly the Secretary of State’s deputy who lied to me about you being informed.” Boy does Spelling hate the head of the FBI. I wonder why.
Then I filled Dick in about more of the latest developments, those that I had not had a chance to tell the Security Council before I abruptly withdrew. One of them is the success of the West German airborne raid on the Warsaw Pact headquarters and airfield near Magdeburg.
“We’ve got both the headquarters and the airfield though we expect the Russians and East Germans to make a major effort to retake them.” And they will succeed if they are willing to lose enough men. But they sure as hell won’t be able to use those planes and underground fuel tanks again.
“There is additional big news,” I inform Dick. “Information just came in only a few minutes ago that the West German paratroopers we dropped on Magdeburg apparently captured Shelepin, the Warsaw Pact Commander. Moreover, and this is totally unconfirmed and may not be true at all, he is reportedly asking for asylum and willing to talk.” Macefield’s head lifted in surprise. He hadn’t heard.
What I didn’t have a chance to tell the President, and certainly wouldn’t if I had known all those unauthorized people were listening, is that, as we speak, the Germans were trying to extract Shelepin before the inevitable Warsaw Pact counterattacks begin.
Klausen had been adamant.
“If we get can get Shelepin out, we’re going to do whatever it takes to wring every bit of useful information we can get out of him. We ought to get it because the swine knows he is likely to be shot if we return him to Moscow. But he doesn’t have to worry about going back; we won’t send him back if he immediately gives us honest answers—and if he refuses to talk or doesn’t immediately tell us everything we want to know I’ll shoot the bastard myself.” Otto means it; works for me.
******
An hour later the Security Council reconvened. The President told us he has important news, and he does. He told us, and probably should not have done so since it’s likely to get out and give the Russians a chance to prevent it, that the Czechs have contacted our ambassador to the United Nations and want to discuss peace terms. Our ambassador in Prague, Henry Simons, thinks the inquiry is for real.
“The terms are going to have to be simple and easily understood to get our allies on board,” I replied as I looked around the room at Klausen, Peavy, and Macefield.
“Tell the Czechs to have their men lay down their arms and immediately head for home. They know we’re not killing anyone who surrenders.” Klausen nods emphatically across the table and gave me a big thumbs up. Macefield also nods his agreement.
“Yes, I understand,” The President said. “But there may be more to it than that. The Czech ambassador says they are willing to let NATO troops occupy The Czech Republic and they’ll join NATO if NATO will agree to protect them from Moscow and help them rebuild. Now that is interesting.
“That is interesting Mr. President…. Um,.. yes it is … if the Czechs agree and start moving their troops back, we’ll certainly follow them closely, but we will only stop firing on them so long as they are actively moving towards their barracks. But just making promises about pulling back is not enough. The Czechs have got to lay down their arms and immediately, and I mean immediately, leave Germany or surrender.” Klausen grimly nodded in agreement.
Chapter Seventeen
I wasn’t kidding when I warned the President and his political people that just because we have been doing well does not mean the war is certain to be won. That’s what the German General Staff thought in 1940 when they sent the German Army across Poland and marched into Russia and France; and that’s what the Arab politicians thought in 1973 when the Egyptian army got across the Suez Canal.
After a day of idleness the Russians and East Germans began counter attacking in an effort to regain control of the situation. They launched numerous attacks in an effort to retake some of the airfields, particularly those in East Germany. Some of their efforts were inconsequential; others appeared to be serious and may well end up being successful.
Starting in the afternoon the Russians and East Germans also begin using their artillery to pound our three Berlin-area airfields and blast away at Schoenfeld. Happily, our casualties, at least on the airfields, were extremely light. Wolfie Tomas outfoxed them. As soon as his troops took the airfields he immediately moved his men completely off the fields had them move into defensive positions several kilometers away.
And best of all, the Warsaw Pact counterattacks involved units and troops that might otherwise have been used to relieve the units we are trying to trap in West Germany. That was the primary purpose of our attacks, not the creation of victory announcements and photo opportunities.
A couple of hours later the NSA reports that it was the embarrassed Russian commander of East Berlin who ordered the shelling of the airfields—because he doesn’t want to be blamed for losing East Berlin without putting up a fight. And a Russian officer could never be criticized for having Germans kill Germans and damaging Berlin.
Similarly, the senior of the remaining East German officers in the Magdeburg area, a Generalmajor Gerd von Wurzburg, an experienced Werhmacht veteran of World War Two as most of the senior East German officers are, began at the same time to gather up the various East German forces in the region in preparation for launching counter attacks to retake the headquarters and airfield.
By late afternoon of the next day the Warsaw Pact forces were desperately attempting a comeback. There was once again heavy fighting in both Berlin and Magdeburg, and on at least a dozen of the airfields we have taken. At the same time the intensity of the fighting in West Germany has significantly declined all along the front lines. It is almost as if everyone is watching to see the outcome of our massive counter-invasion.
******
Willi Schroeder and his exhausted men drove their Leopard and one remaining Milch Cow into an empty hangar. Then they collapsed on the floor and slept all morning under the watchful eye of respectful paratroopers.
Only a few of the paratroopers actually saw their bullet-scarred tank and its Milch Cow, but the word quickly spread among the waiting paratroopers about the battles the German armor guys must have been in and the casualties they took as they fought their way through East Germany to join them. Some of the stories might even have been true.
A little after noon Willi jerked awake to the pounding noise of approaching tanks. As he sat up he could see the hangar door being pushed open by a couple of paratroopers. Less than a minute later three more Leopards and five Milch Cows drove in and the big metal doors clanged as they closed behind them. They have just arrived and the paratroop commander has sent them to join Willi’s team in the hangar.
Schroeder instinctively starts to search for a familiar face, and then he lurched to his feet as he realized he has a tremendous need to find a latrine.
Five minutes later the hangar was filled with excited men telling each other their experiences as they charged towards Magdeburg—and Willi realizes he is the senior officer and now responsible for four Leopards and six Milch Cows.
Each of the three new teams is commanded by a senior feldwebel. Two made it to Magdeburg’s airport despite serious fighting and losses along the way with East Germans and Russians; one just drove along its assigned route and arrived with its tank and three Milch Cows without seeing a single Russian or East Germany soldier. The only shots it fired were into the engines of the civilian trucks it came across as it moved towards the Magdeburg airfield.
Willi’s men, in turn told the new arrivals about their two fights. The first had been yesterday morning at a roadblock manned by two armored cars, a truck full of soldiers, and two East German MP officers sitting at a folding desk. They just all sat there and watched as Schroeder’s Leopard drove up to within forty yards of them and then, “bang bang,” killed the armored cars while the Leopard and Milch Cow machine gunners hose off the troops and MP officers. It was all over with seconds and they didn’t even slow down.
Their second contact was different, very different. It was growing dark and Schroeder still had another Leopard team traveling with him when he stopped for a second just outside a little village to talk on the radio to the commander of the American paratroops on the Magdeburg airfield. He waved the other team on around him to keep going while he talks on the radio.
As a result, instead of Schroeder and his men entering the small village first, it was the other team that entered—and came around a corner to find itself face to face with a company of Sagger equipped Russian infantry.
Worse, the Russians had seen them coming and recognized their Leopard’s silhouette. The Russian ambush had been perfect. They waited until the team’s Leopard and Milch Cows made the turn around the little hotel and restaurant on the corner. Then, from across the little village square, they fired all four of their Saggers and opened up with their assault rifles on Milch Cows. The fighting was over before it even gets started. The Germans didn’t even have a chance to fight back and there were no survivors.
Schroeder was on the radio talking to the German airborne battalion’s executive officer at the Magdeburg airport when the heavy firing and the explosions and black smoke suddenly erupted in the village. He dropped the radio microphone and stood up on his seat to try to see what was happening. But all he could see as the firing tailed off were two great columns of black smoke rising from the middle of the village.
Instantly he shouted an order at his driver to “go back” while he gave strenuous hand signals for the Leopard and his two Milch Cows to do the same. Almost simultaneously he hears the cracking whoosh of rounds going past his head as small arms fire erupted from the village. His Milch Cow was still in the process of turning around when it was raked with machine gun fire. Lieber Gott.
Willi’s headfirst dive off the seat into the muddy rock filled ditch along the road was instinctive. He didn’t even think about it before he dove. As he hit the ground he heard the clanging and splats as his Milch cow and its gunner and driver were riddled.
From the ditch Willi watches as his team’s Leopard spun around and moved down the road behind one of the team’s Milch Cows, the only one that was able to turn around and drive back the way it had come. It escaped because the huge bulk of the Leopard masked it from the intense Russian small-arms fire.
The team’s third Milch Cow is not so lucky. It is riddled by small arms fire coming from the Village as it attempts to turn around—and goes off the road and into a ditch on the other side of the road from Willi. He briefly hears high pitched screaming. It sounds like Bauer, the driver.
As the sun was going down Willi was slithering along the roadside ditch on his stomach for what seemed like hours. Finally, when he can only make out a faint outline of the village against the rising moon he decided to take a chance and run along the side of the road. About thirty minutes later he could hear the faint sound of voices somewhere ahead.
“Hallo,” he shouts. “Hallo.”
“Ver da?” comes the distant reply.
“Leutnant Schroeder. Don’t shoot.”
“Hurry Leutnant. Please hurry. Eric is wounded.”
A few minutes later, as he kept shouting “it’s Leutnant Schroeder, I’m coming in,” he found his Leopard, his one surviving Milch Cow, and the anxious members of his team standing and kneeling around a figure on the ground. Their concern and their relief at seeing him was evident in every voice; they desperately need someone to tell them what to do.
