Ralph Peters - Red Army

This was a souring conclusion to the elation of seeing his army on the march from the vantage point of the helicopter. He wanted Khrenov on the move, not setting himself up to hold court. But the army commander decided to hear what the division commander had to say before letting the hammer fall.

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"Comrade Army Commander," Khrenov greeted him, smiling, clearly quite pleased with himself, "I hope you had a good flight."

Trimenko made a noise at the back of his throat, noncommittal. He strode beside Khrenov from the meadow that served as a helipad to the building. The rain-rinsed air felt unseasonably cold.

"Comrade Army Commander," Khrenov tried again, "you no doubt have been informed that we have secured our bridgehead, and that we are expanding it at this time. It's a solid bridgehead. We already have forward detachments out."

Trimenko had not known. The information must have missed him in flight. What in the world was Tkachenko, his chief of engineers, doing?

He was supposed to keep his army commander informed on the crossing situation. Trimenko wondered what else had happened of which he was unaware, what other events had occurred in the army's sector of which his staff had failed to properly inform him. He had only known that a forward element had seized a good crossing site in the vicinity of Bad Bevensen almost by accident and that Khrenov's crossing operation was underway. But this was rapid success, if Khrenov was accurately reporting his situation.

"I need the details, not generalities, Khrenov," Trimenko said, as though none of the division commander's revelations had surprised him.

Their boots slapped up the cement steps. Inside, staff maps and remote communications gear had been set up in a public dining room. The appointments were far too comfortable for Trimenko's image of a division's forward command post in wartime.

"You're carrying a lot of your staff forward with you, Khrenov," he said.

Khrenov looked at him in mild surprise. "The bastards hit my main command post with a fire strike. Around noon. I thought you knew. Over fifty percent destruction. I'm running everything but rear services and traffic control from here until we get the alternate running hot."

Trimenko was furious now, although he carefully held his temper inside the mental box he had fashioned for it over the years. He realized that so much was happening so swiftly that it was impossible to know it all. But his staff had the mission of sorting out those details that were truly vital and keeping the army commander informed. These gaps in his knowledge only convinced him more fully of the inability of average men to cope under the conditions of modern war. The machine was superior to the man.

"I'm sorry, Khrenov. I didn't know that." For a moment, Trimenko framed the problem in terms of the officers lost, undoubtedly some very 109

Ralph Peters

good men. But he quickly rejected any sentimentality. "The important thing is not to lose control now. We must keep close control of the troops.

Confusion is the enemy now. Confusion and time."

Khrenov nodded. "Comrade Army Commander, if you'll have a seat at the map, I'll brief you myself."

Really pleased with himself, Trimenko thought. Otherwise, he'd have one of his staff officers brief me. Trimenko took a seat beside a table, fronting on a map that had been unfolded and tacked to the wall. A staff officer slipped a packet of looted cigarettes, matches, and a cup of tea onto the table, then nimbly disappeared. Trimenko ignored the little gifts, reaching into his tunic pocket for his tobacco pouch of pistachio nuts. He scattered a few on the tabletop and told Khrenov to go ahead.

"The overall situation in the sector of the Twenty-first Motorized Rifle Division is quite favorable at this time. We have firmly established a divisional bridgehead . . . here . . . following a successful assault crossing against the canal line. At this time, forward elements have penetrated the line of Highway 4, and the division's right flank regiment, following a tactical turning maneuver north from the bridgehead, is fighting on the southern outskirts of Uelzen."

"Don't get bogged down in a city fight," Trimenko interrupted. "Just get the roads. Let the follow-on forces deal with any pockets. Don't divert any more forces to deal with them than absolutely necessary to provide security."

"Comrade Army Commander, our only interest is in securing the Highway 71 axis. Our forces are only engaged in the Uelzen area to firmly establish control of the local road network. A forward detachment detailed from that regiment has already passed into the enemy's rear, and its last reported location puts it in light contact eighteen kilometers west of Uelzen along the supporting network corollary to Highway 71 in the Soltau-Verden direction. The division's mission of the day should be accomplished within one to two hours."

The reported locations were almost stunning to Trimenko. But he adamantly refused to show it in his facial expression. He slowly peeled another nut, slipped it between his lips, and stared at the map. Khrenov had reason to be pleased with himself. This was splendid. The enemy had lost control in the sector. Now it was time to hit them even harder.

"Are you in contact with the Two Hundred and Seventh Division on your southern flank?"

Khrenov's face fell. "Yes, Comrade Army Commander. Dalyev reports that both of his initial crossing attempts have failed. The Germans . . .

appear to be giving him a bad time."

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Trimenko nodded. "Dalyev's got a lot of frontage. Too much to expect real results. He's paying the price for you to succeed in your own little area, Khrenov."

Khrenov bent forward, as though Trimenko had dropped a physical weight onto his shoulders. It was evident that the division commander was anxious to turn the briefing back to his own successes.

"I don't mind so much," Trimenko said. "Somebody always has to pay the price. I just want Dalyev to keep the Germans so busy up front that they miss what's happening on their flanks. I want the Germans to perceive success. But I want to keep enough pressure on them so that they worry, too. So that they stay put. Dalyev's taken severe losses, Khrenov.

While your forward detachment's heading for Soltau, perhaps even the Weser itself, waving at the girls and singing the 'Internationale,' no doubt. But let me pose a problem for you. Suppose Dalyev can't keep the Germans occupied long enough. We've already had reports of German antitank helicopters working the Dutch sector, trying to brace up the front. Really, it's only a matter of time until they hit you with a brigade, maybe more. How are you going to hold the southern shoulder of the penetration?"

"Comrade Army Commander, defensive positions are being prepared at the bridgehead itself. Otherwise, in a fluid, breakthrough situation, I must be prepared to accept open flanks . . . to a degree . . . "

"Oh, don't recite your academy notes to me, Khrenov. Neither do I want you to slow down. If anything, I think you're lagging a bit just now,"

Trimenko lied. "But you do need to get your antitank battalion and some mobile obstacle detachments up. And detail an armored reserve. Start your antitank defenses somewhere around that wishbone on Highway 4.

Right about there, oriented to the south. And keep laying them in as fast as you can while you move west. Be generous with the antitank mines."

"Comrade Army Commander, I don't have the routes. Not yet. You must have seen what the roads are like. I've loaded my assault forces forward, the bridgehead's packed, and everybody's screaming for more ammunition. In any case, one antitank battalion can't cover even the flank we've got now, and I need'them on the bridgehead. I can't even get my casualties out," Khrenov said, in his bitterest tone of the day, "and they're heavy."