Black Winter Fanfiction

[Twilight2000v3MM]

Anyone remember this one? I found all 22 chapters on my hard drive while going through my files.

[Olefin]

what is it about? love reading fan faction like what Matt has been doing

[Twilight2000v3MM]

Its about a mixed nationality team. Characters have life in them. If I had a place to upload the files I would. I'd like to find out who the author is to give him credit

[Twilight2000v3MM]

Here's Chapter 1

BLACK WINTER


CHAPTER ONE
THE FIRST DAY. Sunday 7th January.
The ghosts called to him. 'TITAN!' Whispering through the static that haunted the UHV wave bands. 'TITAN, DO YOU READ, OVER' He listened to them as he sat hunched forward against the hatch of his Russian built T-80 Main Battle Tank; hands laid across the top, gloved fingers interlocked with his chin resting against them. He tried to ignore the ghosts like he ignored numbingly cold wind that clawed at his back. He'd survived forty five Siberian winters; twenty-eight of which had been spent in the service of the Red Army. And he'd grown accustomed to the sterilising cold that permeated from within the heart of his great country and almost welcomed the icy talons that claw through the layers of oil skin and wool into his skin and deep down into his bones; seemingly singling him out as it's only victim' like the ghosts did now. Paranoia. Yet he know the wind was indiscriminate in who it chose. Neither age, sex nor rank bore preference. It would freeze the bones of the youngest conscripted private as readily as those of a Lieutenant Colonel. Unlike the ghosts. They were there just for him. Calling him, taunt him to the deaths he'd condemned them too. 'TITAN, MOVING OUT'' He knew most of their voices and most of their names. Men and women who had died for him. 'TAKING FIRE FROM THE RIGHT FLANK - I NEED HELP TITAN' All of them give themselves completely and selflessly at his word, believing he know there sacrifice would not be vane. 'WE NEED HELP TITAN - WE'RE TAKING HITS.' He wondered weather he'd have the commitment to do the same? Once, may be, but now? 'TITAN WE ARE DYING OUT HERE!........TITAN!''
Three years the war had raged between his country and Germany. Three years in which nothing had been achieved. He'd fought them every day of it, forced back from the Oder river through Poland and Russia to with kilometres of Moscow and to were they made a stood. He and so many others had stopped the combined might of the German, American and British Armies and turned them back.
'TITAN, THIS IS HATCHET.'
Three years had returned him to his start point. To the same village, the same river were he had first fought them. Nothing had really changed. Tonight, he swore, it would. Tonight he would make it all worth something. He would take his tanks for the first time onto German soil.
'TITAN. THIS IS HATCHET ARE YOU RECEIVING - OVER.'
He pushed the talk button. "Hatchet, this it Titan. Reading you clear. Over "
'TITAN - CROSSING IS SECURE AND BRIDGES ARE CLEAR - OVER.'
"Copy Hatchet. Moving off now. Out." He switched to the divisional net. "All units, all units. This is Titan. Move off single file. Keep it steady at ten K's. Out."
The T-80's 800bhp V-60 diesel engine growled loudly, belching out a huge cloud of blue/grey exhaust into the cold air almost in unison with the other tanks in the division. Gears rattled, slack links in the track snatched taught as the column stirred into life. Rutowski's 42 ton monster moved; inching forward onto the hard packed roadway. The T-74 parked along side his moved to follow, struggling in the deep snow that had drifted up almost to the height of the engine deck.
'DRIVER!' The concern in the commander's voice was clear over the open radio channel. The driver slued the T-74 into the hole left by Rutowski's tank. The tracks found firm footing and hauled the tank clear.
Rutowski watched the tank struggle. They'd been stationary for far too long on the Schwedt - Chojna autobahn. Two miles ahead stood the village of Krajnik-Dolny, even in the darkness it stood black against the snow fields. Once little more than a local crossing points on the Oder river, it had survived since the Patriotic War of 1940-45 relatively unchanged until the unification of Germany. Then they built the autobahn linking Neubrandenburg in Germany to Gorzow-Wielkopolski in Poland. It crossed the river at this point and it was this bridge that would take Rutowski's tanks into Germany. Sappers had spent the previous day clearing the carriageway of tank traps and scatter mines laid by the retreating Coalition forces during the autumn rout. It had been a laborious task, slow and difficult, hampered by nine inches of hard packed snow. But totally necessary if the tank were to negotiate the road safely.
The task had been completed just after nightfall when the Sappers entered the Krajnik-Dolny under the protection of Rutowski's armoured recognisance arm to secure the two bridges. They were meant to be near Passow by this time, nearly 20 kilometres inside the German border securing the forward staging area. Instead the 157th Motor Rifles were still bottled up with the Sappers inside the village.
He cursed his own lack of foresight. Even at this early stage of the operation vital operational flaws were becoming blatantly clear to him. Simple obvious thing a junior officer should have picked up. Yet there was nothing he could do about them. Wheels had been set in motion which he could no longer stop. He was committed to this course of action and there was no way back. Not for him or any of those who served under him.
A lone Hummer waited for them beside the first burnt out house of Krajnik-Dolny; part of the 157th Motor Rifles command section. It had been acquired along with the three other vehicles: another Hummer: a larger and newer version of the venerable jeep, and two LAV-25: robust eight wheel armoured cars; from the American some months earlier. Still painted in U.S. European summer camouflage scheme, the only thing that distinguished these four vehicles as a friendly element were the new identification number and the small Russian flags painted on each side, but these were only visible from within fifty feet of each vehicle.
This was a twist of modern warfare that no one had been taught at the academies, not Russian, American or British. And all had fallen foul to it. Rutowski had learnt that lesson early in the war, like so many others, the hard way. Having spotted three T-80s on the out skirts of a village in Central Poland, he'd presumed they were friendly and ordered a Mechanised Infantry Company to move across the open ground under their protection. Nineteen seconds, eleven burning BMP-2s and 153 casualties later Rutowski realised his mistake. One he had never repeated.
The Major climbed onto the roof of the Hummer and stepped across onto Rutowski's tank as it passed. "We're three hours behind schedule, Major. What's the hold up?" Rutowski demanded from his chief engineer.
"We've had half a dozen snipers taking shots at us from either side of the river. It seems a few of the locals weren't as pleased to see us as we hoped."
"Casualties?"
"Yes, three. One fatal."
"And the snipers?"
"Flushed 'em all out. But we've got another problem," the Major continued. "Someone's had a go at blowing both the bridges some time ago. They're both have been badly damaged -"
"Are they still use able?"
"Yeah. Whoever did it made a complete hash of the job. The old steel bridge is in better shape and we've managed to patch it up. The autobahn bridge is not so good. It's taken a demolition charge on one of the pilings and they've punched a hole through the road deck. It's only safe to take the light stuff across it. I reckon fifteen tons tops and that's one at a time."
Rutowski grimaced. That meant it would be near dawn before the last element was clear of the crossing. Things had to move faster. "Can we wade the river or build another bridge?" He knew the answer before he'd finished the question.
The major shook his head. "It's too deep to wade and we have neither the equipment nor the time to build another bridge. It's these two or nothing. The approach to the old bridge is tight and awkward. There's rubble all over the place and the road is almost blocked at several points. It can be cleared, but I've got sod all to do it with."
"One of B Companies tanks is fitted with a dozer blade. I'll have him brought up."
"Yeah, that'll help."
A shout reached them both. They stopped and looked towards a man stood in the street shouting at someone else. "Where are the civilians?" Rutowski asked, drawing the majors attention back.
"All indoors if they've got any sense. We've had a few on on-lookers but most have enough sense to know guns mean trouble."
"Good, I want as few civilian casualties as possible."
"Providing they stay out of my way, that shouldn't be a problem. I've stationed one Hummer back there to control the flow of traffic onto the crossing; split 'em up for the two bridges. There's an LAV on either bank, the TOW variant on this bank, the Chain Gun on the far side, in case we get anymore trouble in here. The other Hummer's on the far side to direct everything to the staging area."
The T-80 halted along side the TOW fitted LAV-25 and the Major stepped across onto it. The Staff Sergeant sitting in the turret handed him a scribbled radio message from a reconnaissance platoons. The Major read it then turned back to Rutowski. "Sir, there's reports of more sniping from the forward staging area."
"Can they deal with it?" He asked glancing round at the darkened windows, wondering who might be staring out at him - another sniper perhaps.
"Yes sir. It's only sporadic at the moment. If it hot up I'll send something heavy to deal with it."
Rutowski laughed briefly. "I want the 21st across first to push ahead to staging point two. We're behind time, so let's get things moving and try and make some of it up."
"Right sir." He turned to the sergeant. "Have the 21st waved straight through. They're first priority." The lead T-74 came to a halt along side them. "Use the south bridge." Rutowski shouted across at it's commander. "Proceed over one at a time then follow the directions on the other side."
The T-74's commander waved a hand and ordered his driver onward. The tank jerked forward again, following the road up to the old bridge. There it stopped and turned 90 degrees on its tracks to face it. Decorated with fake medieval parapets it was a narrow bridge, barely a road width wide. As a minor crossing point restricted only to citizens of the Communist Bloc it saw nowhere near the same volume of traffic as Szczecin or Frankfurt. The two charges had blown away part of the girder work that gave the bridge it's strength. The major's engineers had welded 'H' section along side the damaged beams and across the gaps. The tank commander glanced over the hurried repairs then up at the newer autobahn bridges. He wondered whether Rutowski had got his information the right way round, this structure hardly looked strong enough to support the weight of a light truck.
A corporal clambered up onto the -74's glacis plate. "Move forward, slowly and follow my directions," he told the driver. Then he slid off and walked onto the bridge. He turned back to face the tank and waved on. The driver eased out the clutch and crawled the monster onto the narrow bridge. It was almost too narrow for the tank. 60mm thick steel plates hung from the factory fitted side skirts, lending the T-74 the appearance of a World War Two German Panzer. They added almost two tons to it's weight. The commander saw the width restriction sign suspended from the structure - MAX WIDTH 3.7M - and did the quick arithmetic, barely a 100mm clearance, just 50mm each side. The T-74 inched forward. The left hand skirt scraping chips off the frost crazed stone parapet before cracking the masonry and nudging the block over the side into the ice covered water below. The corporal pointed right and the tank edged away from the masonry and continued onward under the steel beams of the bridge; crawling ever so slowly. The structure creaked and groaned under the weight of the 44 tons of Main Battle Tank. He watched the ice break away from the repaired beams as tiny shock waves dissipated through the structure. He could almost imagine the stresses working through them, pulling the hot riveted joints apart, tearing at the crude welds, threatening to plunge him to an icy death in the river.
It took five minutes for the tank to pass the opposite parapets. It performed another 90 degree left turn and accelerated past the second LAV to rejoining the autobahn.
Rutowski glanced at his watch. Five minutes, too long. That translated to a nearly an hour and a half to get just the heavy armour across and an additional half an hour for the 157th to clear the crossing. Four hours. Too long. He'd planned to be clear by 0200 at the latest. There must to be a quicker way? He looked back at the autobahn bridge. "Are you sure about that fifteen ton weight limit."
"Yes sir, and that's pushing it." The major replied. "The detonation charges may have been poorly set, but they've done a lot of damage. Punched a hole right through the road deck and there's hell of a big chunk out of the west side piling. I can repair the old bridge. It's steel, I can weld it up. But that one's reinforced concrete. I can't touch it. We're lucky it's still standing. I've had three gangs working on it since nightfall, patching the sod up as best we can. We've bolted on additional support beams around the piling and laid a new road deck to try and even out the stress loading. But," he shrugged, "you can try for more, though I wouldn't recommend it."
The Major was right, of course. He'd been eight years as a structural engineer before being conscripted into the army, he knew what he was talking about. Blue flashes of welding arcs lit up dark figures moving about under the road deck. Above them the first BMP moved across. Rutowski turned to watch the second tank negotiate the bend off the bridge. Snow had started falling again. Three inches of snow had already fallen since nightfall, hindering the major in his task. More snow would set them back even further
The Chancellor looked out of his office window. The darkness had turned to grey shadows with the morning. That nights snow had left an unblemished covering on the lawns that stretched from the German Parliamentary Building to the high security fencing that separated them from the city beyond, obliterating all traces of the previous day. Behind him his Minister for Internal Security was speaking.
"......we must keep the foreign nationals here as long as possible," he repeated. There was a mutter across the room, someone openly agreed with him. Chancellor Hellor shook his head without turning from the window. "Bernard, the people are against that. They see the foreigners as an Army of Occupation, especially the British. Since they occupied Hamburg, no-one gets in or out without there say-so, not even our own troops. That is a situation I cannot allow to continue."
"Look at what the British have done with Hamburg. Last Christmas the city almost tore itself apart with civil unrest and food riots. This year they have only been a few minor disturbances, mainly in the out laying areas where the military presence is less pronounced. The British control the city; control it's food distribution, control it's resources, control it's population. We've had ten counts of major rioting within Bonn already this year." Bernard Hauer continued. "Sir, the people don't know what's best for them. They have no comprehension of what's has to be done to rebuild this country. They only see the problems that befall them right now, right this minute, not six weeks or six months ahead. They are so concerned with the day to day problems of survival that they can't even contemplate the route to economic recovery."
"But the people see the British as an occupying army, a suppressing army. Hamburg is under Marshall law. They have a shoot to kill policy during curfew hours. You are not going to tell me the population of Hamburg are happy with that?"
"The largest movement of population in December was into that city. I cannot tell you how the population feels about the situation within the city. All I can tell you is what they are doing. And that is voting with there feet. The British sector maybe seen as dictatorial and suppressive, but it's also seen as safe."
"But Joseph tells me there is unrest with the way the British are running things."
"Yes, of cause there is. Under any stick military regime there will be discontent. We see that against our own troops. That's fine. Let the population think that, Chancellor. Let them vent all their anger and frustrations against the British. You can't lock a city down that hard without repercussions. It will blow soon and the British will have to deal with that when it comes. However if they leave, the city will turn on our soldiers and they will see our own army as the suppressers."
Hellor finally turned from the window. "Do we know for certain the British are intending to withdraw?"
"Yes Chancellor."
"How much detail have we got on the withdrawal plans?"
"Enough to be certain it will happen." Replied Joseph Vonnegut, the Defence Minister and former Bundesamt fur Verfassungsschutz - BfV - Military Intelligence officer. "They've just acquired three more ships in the past week. Two are confirmed as Ro-Ro ferries from the Baltic; one Scandinavian, the other Lithuanian. The third is allegedly the Arctic Voyager, she's a 48,000 ton bulk container vessel that's been aground off the Holland coast for nearly a year. We'd presumed she was unsalvageable. If they have managed to re-float her, she gonna need some serious work before she'll be sea worthy again."
"How long will that take?"
"From two weeks to two months, Chancellor. That's a conservative guess."
Hellor walked across the room to sit in his plush leather chair. "And after that, how long do you anticipate it would take before the British have enough ships to make the withdrawal?"
Vonnegut sighed. "That depends. If they intend to follow the American's example and leave all their heavy equipment behind, then with the Arctic Voyager they already have enough. However, we believe they are intending to take everything with them. So I estimate they will require at least a half dozen more vessels."
"And what does that give us as the most likely timetable for their withdrawal?"
"Early to late spring for an expeditionary force. With the main body following in the summer. They'd most likely establish a beach head at one of the East Coast ports before pushing inland. From what we've seen of their plans, they are treating it a potentially hostile operation."
"Do we have any indication to how the UKLF will react to their presence?" He referred to the United Kingdom Land Forces.
"No Chancellor. Information coming out of the United Kingdom is very sketchy and unreliable. However BAEUR -" British Army of Europe, "- believe they will be in for a hostile reception."
Hellor sat quiet for a moment. "I've heard talk of a growing resistance to the withdrawal. Can you shed any light on these?"
"The original withdrawal order was issued to BAEUR by the British Government last September, about the same time as the Americans issued theirs. The order was for an immediate relocation of all British military personnel from Continental Europe to the United Kingdom for integration into the UK Land Force or disbandment into civilian services. At that time the orders didn't include the movement of any heavy equipment or vehicles; this was to be handed over to us and the Belgiums. Nor did it include non British military and civilian personnel in the service of BAEUR. We estimate there are in excess of 6000 of these, mostly Americans and Germans, and a smaller number of Eastern Europeans. Due to these restriction BAEUR refused to acknowledge the orders and the British Government subsequently withdrew their support. Both the British Government and UKLF view BAEUR as hostile. How this will manifest itself when the two come face to face is unknown. BAEUR has spent the past six months consolidating it's position around Hamburg, systematically handing over they outlying strong-holds to our control. The British 5th Mechanised Division is the only large concentration of troops outside the city, and they are handing Hanover back to us in three days time."
"Chancellor," Hauer stated. "The Hanover garrison has been bolstered by surplus American equipment to enable them to continue governing the city. Equipment we should be sending east to strengthen the garrison along the Polish border. Muncheberg, Pasewalk and Prenzlau are all undermanned and under strength. If the British leave, they remove over 20,000 men from our internal security structure. Men that will need replacing to control and protect the population of the city. That will mean pulling more men and equipment away from the front line area. This is not inherent to the security of our boarders"
Hellor know this. "I could see what the British had done to Hamburg. They've brought order to the city and this is what was needed if we are to rebuild Germany. But they also controlled it, totally. It was as good as foreign territory to us. The industrial heart of his country was in the hands of foreigners." He held his arms out. "I can't allow that. Haven't you read the slogans?" He left his desk and returning to the window. "Look," he pointed to the cream coloured concrete building beyond the fencing. "Have you seen the slogans? 'Germany for Germans' in metre height letters."
"Yes, I see it most mornings."
"The people don't want them here. This government doesn't want them here"
"Chancellor, we need them."
He turned back thumping his fist down on his desk. "Surely we should use this to unite the country. The people have identified a common foe, the British, and as their democratically elected representatives, we should respond to this."
"Chancellor?" Hauer rose.
"Bernard!" The uneasy moment of silence broke as Hellor's face softened. "I have a lot of information here and I need time to study it in detail."
"And how do we stand in regard to the withdrawal?"
"I will let you know in my own time. Good day Bernard."
Hauer and Vonnegut returned to the Security Ministers office in silence. "That was Koch specking." Vonnegut muttered as the climbed two flights of stairs.
"May be, but she's out of it now. Hellor's got few allies left."
Hauer’s' office was two floors above the Chancellor's, it was high enough above the surrounding city for it's single broad east facing window to catch the first rays from the low sun and bathe the office in a warm welcoming glow. However, two days ago while taking to Eurika Koch; the former Minister for Agriculture, a single assassins bullet shattered the plate glass window and struck her in the back. Although Hauer knew that assassin would never return for him, he'd had the window boarded up and sandbagged so now only artificial light now welcomed him. However, this was a small sacrifice to maintain the facade. And one he made without regret.
Once seated at his desk he summoned Han Kubrick, the young man who had been promoted into the crippled Eurika's shoes, to his office. He was in his eyes a good replacement for her, younger by nine years and more receptive to his political opinions, Kubrick understood the problems faced by his country as it clawed it's way to recovery. Eurika had been foolish and deserved her fate. She believed Germany could have stand alone and regain it's greatness unaided. At forty-nine, she'd spent over half her political career in a divided Germany. She'd rejoiced at the reunification and believed in her country's independence. She saw herself as a new German. She was a fool. Germany could not stand alone, it could neither defend its boarders or feed its people without the help of foreigners. Foreigners were sustaining Germany's growth, not hindering it as she believed.
"He'll make the wrong choice." Vonnegut said from one of the easy chairs. "Koch still has his ear, she'll will convince him that they should go. Dame that man!"
Kubrick entered half way through the conversation. "So Hellor hasn't decided either way yet."
"No. The man's incompetent, too scared to take a decision without Eurika holding his hand. If she'd had been there he'd have decided, she'd have seen to it. He should be removed from office, before he can do more any damage."
"Eurika still has a large hold on him. There is a lot of loyalty to her and she could still be very persuasive." Hauer added, gesturing at Kubrick to take a seat.
"She's out of her office now," Vonnegut answered. "She's lost control of her department and if we can discredit her, she'll lose that loyalty. You've seen the figures she's been playing with, Han, she's been fiddling them for the past three months to make it look like we'll end up with a deficiency. And I'm dam sure we won't."
"She's been juggling them in her favour" Kubrick replied. "I'm just not sure where, not without taking a closer look."
"Good. See what you can do for tomorrow morning." Hauer grunted, then turned to Vonnegut. "What about the withdrawal. How soon?"
Vonnegut breathed in through his teeth. "Maybe as soon as next month for the expeditionary force."
"That soon! Why'd you tell Hellor spring?"
"The man's under enough pressure already. If I'd told him this month he'd have decided it was already too late to do anything. The decision would have been made for him, again."
Hauer lent back in his chair. "Next month, you sure?"
Vonnegut nodded. "My people inside BAEUR have seen reconnaissance photos identifying several East Coast ports."
"Anywhere in particular?" Kubrick asked.
"Hull, Lowestoft and Felixstowe are favourite."
Kubrick frowned. "I thought most of the British Army in England was in the South-east. Why aren't they going for one of the southern ports?"
Vonnegut smiled. "The British Army of Europe and the United Kingdom Land Forces are not actually seeing eye to eye at the moment."
Hauer leaned forward. "Hellor has to be removed. He's long out lived his political usefulness. I need to know what the atmosphere is within the government, who I can count on, who I can't. Becker, the Transport Minister has been making noises. I want to know if we can use him? Can we push him forward as a challenger to Hellor? Now Eurika is out the way, there is no strong successor to replace him." He looked at them. "Find out."
THE SECOND DAY. Monday 8th January.
FM. Western TDV, Pila,
TO. Major General Straczynski
Discontinue current assignment. Transport helicopter is on route to airlift you and your unit to Pila. Contact helicopter on normal channels with rendezvous detail prior to 2100 hours. This is urgent Misha.
General Chorski
The helicopter was just an Ex-Aeroflot Mi-17 'Hip', still painted white with the blue logo visible above the passenger windows, except it had been stripped out and retro fitted with the same guns and rocket pods as it's military counterpart. It was nothing spectacular; noisy, dirty, cold and uncomfortable. However it use, more than anything else, conveyed to Major General Mikhail Straczynski the urgency of his recall to Western Theatre Headquarters - TVD - at Pila, Western Poland.
Aerofuel was a scarce commodity and helicopter a valuable piece of kit to dispatch to collect his unit without first receiving conformation their location. Something had to have gone very wrong.
Straczynski’s Spetsnaz had spent the past three weeks tracking down a rogue Slovakian Army platoon who'd stolen a live SS-22 'Scaleboard' battle field missile; reputably the missile was fitted with a nuclear warhead. TVD feared they'd try and launch or detonate it at some point. Straczynski had pursued the renegades across Slovakia and the Czech Republic towards the German town of Regensburg, where less them ten kilometres from the German border they'd caught it and eliminated the deserters. The recall signal came as they prepared to returned to Pila with the launcher. No mention of the missile was made.
The warhead code had confirmed it to be a 500 Kiloton devise. He now held the launch codes and keys, but these were only electronic barriers to prevent accidental detonation. A determined person could still achieve that through several means. Destroying the was not a viable option, nor was move it to a safe location. Time constraints prevented it. As the chopper lifted clear from a snow-field, Straczynski felt uneasy about his solution. Both missile and launcher sat barely a metre below the icy waters of a Czech lake. Not an ideal solution, but the only one available to him at this time.