Feucht, West Germany
25th June
The WP forces were now deep in West German territory, they had taken the cities of Bamberg and Bayreuth, Amberg too was as good as in Czechoslovakian hands. The brave American and German defenders had made the WP troops pay a bloody price, however they couldn’t withstand the massive onslaught of men and materiel forever, yet the battle lasted for more than three days. The category A divisions of the Warsaw Pact had taken serious losses, but so had the NATO forces. Now the path to Nuremberg lay wide open to the armored forces of the Warsaw Pact, at least that was what the Commander of the Central Army Group wanted them to believe. He wanted the Soviets to believe that they had finally achieved a breakthrough and would move forward their tank divisions. Then NATO would strike back.
Meanwhile, in Hesse NATO units had given ground to WP forces and denied them a breakthrough through the strained NATO lines. Tank losses for the WP were high as NATO anti tank teams waited behind every corner and in every forest.
“Hey, put some more bushes on that tank. I want every tank properly concealed”, Johannes Benkendorf voice boomed through the forest. The 28 years old second lieutenant of the German Tank Corps sat atop of his own Leopard 1 main battle tank checking on his platoon’s two other tanks. Today they would be put to the test for the first time in this war, they’d face enemy tank formations and not just a bunch of paratroopers with BMDs and the occasional self-propelled artillery gun the Soviets had dropped around Stuttgart. The Russian paratroopers had been tough to fight, but they eventually ran out of men and ammo. Thousands of them had surrendered, others continued the fight in the woods. But now two reinforced brigades of the Territorialheer became available and could support the VII US Corps’ defense of Nuremberg.
Benkendorf still remembered the last day of peace. He was just going through some financial data at work, when suddenly the telephone rang and a prerecorded voice spoke to him: “Casablanca. I repeat. Casablanca.”
At first he didn’t quite realize the importance of these words, he had memorized years ago. It was his signal word, he was to get his gear, somehow get to the battalion’s depot in Heidenheim and get his tanks ready. First he thought it was a drill and told himself that he needed to finish his work first. But the thought that this wasn’t a drill kept nagging him. Then another employee literally crashed into his office, he was also a reservist.
“Johannes, I just got the phone call? What about you? You got anything?”
“Yeah, just a couple of minutes ago. What’s your unit?”
“Engineers. You’re a tankie, right?”
Then two others came in.
“You too? This can’t be a drill.”
He jumped into his car and speeded home, got his rucksack and other gear out of the basement and then hit the gas again to get as fast as possible to Heidenheim. He listened to the radio. But the news told him nothing about an impending invasion by the Warsaw Pact. But he kept driving as fast as he could. Then the music suddenly stopped.
“Attention! Attention! This is an emergency broadcast …”
“Boris, how’s everybody holding up so far?”, Benkendorf asked his platoon sergeant Boris Voigt.
“They’re all tense. It won’t be easy and we’ll most certainly take heavy casualties. You know, we could have 120mm installed on our tanks for years, but these fucking politicians though it too expensive. God, I hate them.”
“We’ll have to make do with what we have. Stay hidden and strike swiftly.”
Benkendorf took a look at his watch: 20.34.
“Everybody should get some rest, three asleep and one awake per tank. I don’t want anybody disturbing our little bivouac.”
Schnattach, West Germany
July 1st
In the past five days of intense combat Benkendorf’s platoon had been reduced to one operational tank and one in repair. The other one had been a complete loss, including the crew. The rest of the company didn’t fair better and now Benkendorf was in command of the remaining six tanks and a few wheeled vehicles.
“The NVA formations opposing us are bled white and stuck in the valleys, forests and villages. Our friends of the VII US Corps and the II Corps have counterattacked and cut off the enemy’s tank divisions. The WP forces are caught in the trap and we’re bombarding them with everything we have. Our job is to prevent them from breaking out. If we succeed the Warsaw Pact will lose most of its offensive power in Southern Germany. If we fail, well, there’s not much between us and the Rhine except some Territorial Army units.”, Benkendorf finished his briefing.
Before day’s early dawn the company’s tanks were already back in fighting positions dug by the brigade’s combat engineers with their heavy excavating equipment during the night. Benkendorf glanced at the map resting on his lap. The engineers had been busy and also laid extensive minefields and prepared obstacles all over the area.
“Maxi. Got anything of interest?”
“Absolutely nothing. Not even a fucking bird. Not that I’m complaining.”, Benkendorf’s gunner responded.
“They’re up to something. It doesn’t feel right, the air force and artillery is pounding them into the ground and their own air force is concentrating its forces in Northern Germany. They have to break out.”
A few minutes later a flight of American fighter jets thundered along the Autobahn and dropped several bombs behind a hill just a few kilometers away from Benkendorf. Suddenly a column of WP vehicles drove out of one of the villages and the aircraft strafed them.
“You want to leave all the fun to the air force?”, the loader asked.
“No. But I don’t want their fucking artillery and god knows what else shooting at me.”
“Johannes. I think the air force has just killed a bunch of deserters. White flags.”
Benkendorf shrugged.
“As if I’d give a damn about them. If they’re dead, they won’t bother me anymore.”
Just one hour later Benkendorf received notice about the ceasefire that would be in effect at noon. While air operations winded down friendly artillery and mortar fire increased rapidly.
“If we’re lucky the Soviets won’t be able to supply their trapped troops. If not I’d wish to meet these fucking politicians who agreed to the ceasefire in person.”