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Old 03-08-2015, 06:28 PM
Matt Wiser Matt Wiser is offline
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And the next part:


1705 Hours: Soviet Headquarters, Brownsville


General Alekseyev looked at his situation map. The East Germans were coming apart, though slowly. Part of the Americans' XII Corps was tearing the two East German divisions to pieces, and though they were falling back, it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed, and a dangerous hole torn in the Soviet defense. Third Shock Army was still fighting, and he had to hand it to Starukhin, he'd fought that Army well, and even with him out of the picture, they fought like tigers. The Eighth Guards and 28th Armies were still falling back in good order, and they were already preparing to take up their new positions. The Cuban 1st Army, facing II MAF, was also fighting, and they gave ground grudgingly. It was the Cuban 2nd Army that he was most concerned about at present, though. He turned to General Chibisov. “Get General Malinsky on the phone.”

“Yes, Comrade General.”

A few moments later, Chibisov handed the phone to Alekseyev. “General Malinsky, Comrade General.”

“Malinsky, what's this with the Cubans?” Alekseyev demanded.

“Comrade General, I'm wondering the same thing myself. The Cuban 27th Motor-Rifle Division, somehow, didn't get the word to fall back, and they're nearly encircled. Then the Cuban 24th Division tried to relieve them, and they were badly mauled,” Malinsky reported.

“Did General Perez give those orders?” Alekseyev wanted to know.

“I'm not sure, Comrade General. My liaison officers with Cuban 2nd Army report that he still has some communications with Havana. As you know, the Cuban leadership has taken a serious interest in the battle,” Malinsky said.

“Obviously,” Alekseyev said. “Once the Americans finish us off, they can either go into Mexico, or invade Cuba. And it's in Castro's best interest that they go south.”

“Quite so, Comrade General,” Malinsky agreed. “Comrade General, I'm asking about the 76th Guards Airborne Division. I may need them before too long. And the 47th Tank Brigade.”

“General, I can't release those forces to you. Not yet. The Americans may mount an amphibious landing directly east of Brownsville, and I'll need those forces to counter the landing, should it occur,” Alekseyev said.

Malinsky digested that information. He'd been so preoccupied with the battle to his front, that an amphibious threat had been overlooked. “Comrade General, I'd quite forgotten about that.”

“Understandable, Malinsky. Now, some bad news: The evacuation of wounded and specialists by air is on hold: the last airport was hit by air strikes earlier, and the runways need to be cleared. I've got Belgin's engineering troops looking at ribbon bridges into Mexico, but nothing definite until morning. The airdrops of supplies are still going ahead, though.” Alekseyev told Malinsky.

“At least the airdrops are going forward, Comrade General,” Malinsky said. “I'll have the 105th Guards mark new drop zones for those supply drops in our vicinity.”

“Good. Remind your troops of the penalty for hoarding. And Malinsky?”

“Yes, Comrade General?”

Alekseyev paused. He looked at Chibisov, and the map. It was time. “Malinsky, as of now, 4th Guards Tank Army is under your command. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Comrade General.”

With that, Alekseyev hung up. He turned to Chibisov. “Notify General Suraykin. He's now under Malinsky's command, effective immediately.”

“Right away, Comrade General,” Chibisov said.

Alekseyev looked again at the map. He noticed the symbol for the Cuban 2nd Army. “Sergetov, what's your take on this?”

“Comrade General, I would imagine that both Fidel and Raoul are monitoring the battle, and are even issuing orders directly to their own generals,” Sergetov said.

“And the division that didn't fall back?” the General asked.

“I would imagine that the Castro brothers would like to have some martyrs for the revolution, Comrade General. If we won't provide them with some, then they will go ahead and do so.”


1715 Hours: Cuban 2nd Armored Brigade, U.S. Highway 83, Donna, Texas


A line of Cuban T-62 tanks rumbled west along the freeway that was U.S. Highway 83. The brigade's commander had been ordered by General Perez, the 2nd Army Commander, to relieve the 24th Division, or at the very least, enable their withdrawal east.

Major Miguel Pena wasn't at all happy about the orders he'd received. He knew that his brigade, which had seen combat since the beginning of the war, was no way able to take on American armor. He remembered when he'd been a Senior Lieutenant, and had commanded a T-72 platoon in the war's early days. They had run around and over their opposition, which had mainly M-48s and early M-60s, but now, with the M-60A4, Stingray, and the M-1 family-especially the dreaded M-1A1s, those days were gone forever. The brigade had been shot up several times, beginning in those horrid Ozarks in 1986, when it seemed there was someone behind every tree or knob with a LAW rocket launcher or a Dragon missile. Their T-72 losses had been replaced then, but during that Yanqui offensive in 1987, their T-72s had been given to some other unit, and T-62s had replaced them. And their BMP-2s had also gone away, and BTR-60PBs issued in their place. It had happened again in 1988, during the Yanqui's airborne and amphibious attack on the Gulf coast, and now.....he was interrupted by his brigade's executive officer. “Comrade Major, we're on the line of departure.”

“Thank you, Captain. First battalion in the center, second on the left, third on the right.” Pena said. “Fourth battalion and the Motor-Rifle battalion in reserve, and artillery ready to fire in support.”

“Very well, Comrade Major.” the exec replied. He, too, was a veteran, but was only back to the brigade after six months in the hospital.

“Tell me, Carlos, is this attack a waste?” Pena asked.

“Comrade Major, the men in the 27th are depending on us,” the man replied.

“Yes, but all we'd be doing is pulling them out of the frying pan and into the fire,” Pena said. “And there's no guarantee they're still fighting when we get there.”

“True, Comrade Major,” the exec replied. “But we can do our duty.”

Pena knew the man was right, even if he was as well: there were American tanks ahead that would outgun and outshoot his own, but he had his duty. He mounted his command tank, and got on the radio: “All units, this is Dagger One. Advance!”

And a brigade of T-62s moved ahead down and parallel to U.S. 83. Not knowing that the division they were trying to rescue had been overwhelmed an hour earlier.


1745 Hours: 234th Guards Air Assault Regiment: near Indian Lake, Texas.


General Andreyev knew he was getting close to his target. His recon company had talked to some local civilians; once they had realized the Soviet Airborne was going after the KGB, they had gladly cooperated. The irony didn't escape him: if the Soviets and their allies hadn't behaved like animals, maybe, just maybe, they would have had a lot more cooperation from the civilian population. But the Soviets had behaved like it was Germany in 1945, and any chance of goodwill from American civilians had been thrown away at the start.

Now, Andreyev's desantniki had not only the information from the unlamented KGB officer from the missile site, but some civilians had pointed out the weapons site. No civilian could go within a kilometer of the facility-under penalty of death. And that had been strictly enforced, as several corpses hanging from telephone or power poles indicated. One more thing to indict the KGB, Andreyev felt. He hadn't had any personal experience with the KGB since Colorado, but the KGB's insistence on “scenes on a massive scale” had repulsed him then, and it still did. One day, he vowed, there would be a reckoning for such atrocities, and the vigor that the Americans had vowed to punish war criminals didn't surprise him in the least.

Now, he was planning his attack on the facility. There was at least a company of KGB troops guarding the facility, but their defense was geared towards a guerrilla attack. They didn't have any heavy armor or APCs, though they did have a few mortars and heavy machine guns. Colonel Suslov came up to him. “Comrade General,”

“Yes, Comrade Colonel?”

“Comrade General, one thing that will certainly work in our favor is that an attack on this scale is the last thing they'll expect. A few guerrillas is one thing they can take care of. But an attack by a regiment....” Suslov said, his voice trailing off.

“Indeed, Comrade Colonel. And in prewar exercises, we've gone after our own facilities back home. And they were much more heavily guarded than this one.” Andreyev reminded the Colonel.

“True, Comrade General, but I was only a battalion commander then, and expecting to fight in someplace like Norway or Iceland. Not here in America.” Suslov said.

“The next officer who says that he expected to be fighting Americans here, on their home soil, will be the first,” Andreyev said. “Now, to business. I think a suitable diversion can be of use here. We have a few M-16s in our arsenal, correct?”

“Yes, Comrade General,” Suslov replied.

“Good. Take a few men from the reconnaissance company. Arm them with those American rifles, and have them get as close as possible to the main gate,” Andreyev said. “Wait until dark, then they open fire.”

Suslov knew what his divisional commander had in mind. “The guards will assume it's guerrillas, and their reaction force will move out. And our men lead them into an ambush.”

Andreyev smiled. “Correct, Comrade Colonel. That's Third Battalion's mission. After the reaction force leaves, First battalion comes in from the west and south. Second from the east. And we overwhelm the remaining defenders. We secure the warheads, get them into the transport vans-if they're not in them already, and then move out.”

“We have an hour and a half of daylight left, Comrade General,” Suslov reminded his superior. “Shall I summon the battalion commanders, and the recon company commander?”

“By all means, Comrade Colonel.”
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