The Black Effect (Cold War) Read Online Free PDF

down upon the enemy. In addition, a 30mm cannon, with 250 rounds of ammunition, was located in a compartment beneath the cockpit. Nicknamed Frogfoot by NATO, the single-seat, twin-engined jet aircraft was specifically designed to provide close air support for Soviet ground forces. They would be expected to perform between eight and ten sorties a day. This was the first one of today’s attacks.
    “The bloody Grachs (Rooks) will sort them out if the artillery hasn’t,” crowed Barsukov.
    Trusov didn’t answer, but checked his watch. Thirty seconds to go. He pointed downwards to Barsukov who then slid into his gunner’s position on the left.
    Pulling on his padded helmet, he now had communications with Kokorev, the driver and his gunner. “ Fifteen seconds .”
    “Sir,” Kokorev responded.
    Ten seconds. A ripple of 57mm rockets, smoke trails behind them, left the aircraft pods. Two aircraft targeted the southern edge of Braunschweig; two attacked the northern edge of the forest.
    Kokorev looked up at the barrel of the tank gun above him, just to his right, and pulled on the hatch handle and heaved the driver’s hatch closed.
    Five seconds. Over 100 missiles, fired by the Rooks, struck their targets, laying a carpet of high explosives and shrapnel along the periphery where any remaining British troop would be waiting for the expected enemy advance.
    “Go, go, go,” Trusov yelled into his mouthpiece.
    Kokorev peered through the three vision blocks in front of him, his left hand raising the engine-idle lever and his right foot pushing on the accelerator pedal, the T-80’s 1,000-horsepower gas-turbine engine powered the tank forward. They pulled out from behind the two-storey house they had been secreted behind; their camouflage netting had been removed earlier. T-80s along the entire length of 62nd GTR front appeared from their hiding places and slowly gathered speed.
    As for Trusov’s battalion, Vagin’s third-company was on his left, Ivashin’s company on the right, and Mahayev’s out in front, followed closely by two mine-plough tanks. Earlier, during the hours of darkness, a Soviet reconnaissance patrol had identified a probable minefield. The British had laid a carpet of bar mines between the forest and Braunschweig, hoping to hold the Soviet tanks up while their Milans picked them off from the side. The engineers had just completed their survey when they were bounced by a British fighting patrol. They barely made it back to the Russian lines, losing a third of their small force on the way. Under the cover of a smokescreen, the two mine-plough tanks moved forward rapidly and started to plough a passage, the width of two tanks, through the minefield. The remaining tanks of the battalion would pass through the gap, fanning out either side, the fuel injected onto their manifolds providing additional smoke; much needed cover from the eyes of their NATO enemies.
    “ Two-Zero, Two-One. One down, one down! ”
    “Two-One, understood. Keep moving.”
    Another T-80 casualty , thought Trusov. He pushed the hatch open and climbed up so his shoulders were well out of the turret, being met by a swirl of smoke, the stench of diesel fumes nearly making him gag. The tank bounced across the open ground ahead, Kokorev heading slightly north-west as instructed. Neither he nor Kokorev could see very much at the moment. The biggest risk was driving into one of their own comrades. Travelling at about twenty-five kilometres an hour, they would step up to forty once they were through the minefield. Although he could see very little, Trusov strained his ears and could pick out the roar of engines ahead as they negotiated the occasional ditch or mound.
    “Slow by five; our boys are just ahead,” he informed his driver.
    Looking down and to the left, past the other side of the yellow-painted auto-loader, he could see Barsukov, rocking from the hip as he moved with the motion of the tank, his eyes up against the IG42-quantum periscope