Firestorm: Stripes

Location: outskirts of Homberg, SE of Marburg-an-der-Lahn, north Germany
Mission: Bypass (Meeting Engagement)
Points: 50 points

West German Leopard 1 Kompanie: Leopard 1 Company HQ, 3 Zugs, each of 3 Leopard 1; 2 Luchs scouts.
West German M113 Panzergrenadier Kompanie: Company HQ Rifle team, 1 Zug of 3 infantry and 3 Milan in M113s, 1 Zug of 2 infantry and 2 Milans in M113s, 1 Zug of 2 infantry and 2 Milan in 3 Marder carriers.
Polish T-72M Tank Battalion: T-72M HQ, 2 companies platoons of 5 T-72Ms, 4 BMP-1 scouts.
Polish T-55AM Tank Battalion: T-55 Battalion HQ, 2 companies of 5 T-55s

Major Hugelschafer looked at the massing tanks and finished his count for the third time. Too much armour, not enough infantry. Like every other NATO officer, he had read the military doctrines published by the Frunze Academy – at least as well as his counterparts, no enemies now – and he knew what a tank-heavy force meant. An operational manoeuvre force. A hard-hitting punch of armour kept back until Front command scented a victory to exploit. And Georg knew exactly what they were here for. The E40 rolled on south-west towards Frankfurt. Let the Soviets clear the denser country and get onto the autobahn… well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

Hugelschafer turned to call for Dietrich, but his old radio man was no longer there. Hospitalised with shrapnel two weeks ago. What was the new one called? Never mind.

“Gefrieter, get me Brigade. We have Soviet armour on our hands. And inform Hauptmann Landtfried. We will need his tanks.”

The Bundeswehr’s position was as solid as it could be. Hugelschafer's three infantry zugs were dug in covering the autobahn and its link road, taking advantage of a trio of warehouses to the west, a barn in the centre and a cluster of farm buildings to the east. The company’s M113 carriers had been sent to the rear, demonstrably of little use against enemy tanks, while the trio of Marder IFVs were held as a small reserve. Hauptmann Landtfried’s Leopard 1 tanks were kept in cover, two zugs by the warehouses in the west and one by the farm to the east. The pair of Luchs scouts were forward.

The Polish assault was spearheaded by a section of BMP-1 scouts, who had cleared the way through the ploughed fields and broken the neat fence-line at the orchard. The T-72Ms had used their cross-country speed to good effect, starting as far forward as possible. The T-55 companies screened the dual carriageway, planning to avoid the rough terrain as far as possible.

Podpułkownik (Lt-Col) Zielinski swore colourfully. After the bloodshed around Marburg, the Wessies had finally been stretched to breaking point. Not that the sons of fascists admitted it, counter-attacking at every turn. Still, Front command had seen a weak spot, a chance to make a decisive breakthrough. 20th Armoured had the honour of leading the attack, with 24th Tank Regiment – Drezdenski at the tip of the spear. A shame he had to nursemaid the antique T-55s from 12th Mechanised Infantry division, but the motor-riflemen had bought the opportunity with their blood, and the remains of their armour were still in a state to advance. His scouts had gotten as close to the autobahn as they dared, and had reported possible movement. Cautious cowards, covering their own arses. A bunch of civilians trying to get away, most likely. Speed was the best weapon now – hit them before they had chance to organise.

And yet… Zielinkski swore again as another T-72M bogged down. The damned countryside was their worst enemy at the moment. Every delay meant precious minutes. He’d kept his tanks back from the action until now, and he was damned if he would waste them. Grabbing the command mike, he nearly screamed at the unfortunate officer over an open channel. Feeling a little better, he picked up his binoculars again. All but one T-72 of 1 company had raced to cover by the little farm, while 2 company was still strung out in the fields, with two tanks bogged. The T-55s had fared better, one company dashing into the lee of the warehouses and the second moving around the woods to take positions along the road. Textbook. Let the older tanks take the dual carriageway, while the pride of Poland covers the country to the side-road.

The command net crackled: Major Dabrowski, reporting that his T-55s had rolled into the sights of German Leopards. And then all hell let loose.

[Matthew was clearly counting on aggression and speed to give him a simple victory. His Poles had reached the centre-line on turn one (across a 5’ long table, no mean feat). To be fair, I did remind him that there were infantry in some of the buildings he was using for cover, but he didn’t mind, and was more concerned about avoiding line of sight to my tanks. As a certain general once said, “Gentlemen, the enemy is making a mistake. Let us not interrupt him…”]

Landtfried was elated. The comm-net was full of his crews claiming tank crews, and his own gunner had just dispatched a T-55. The Soviets had ploughed straight into the trap. What was the American poker phrase? Walked into a sandbag. Something like that. Hugelschafer’s landsers were getting in on the act too, Milan missiles adding their own fireballs – even a Panzerfaust 44 going off.

Zielinski attempted to make sense of what he was hearing, as though it wasn’t obvious from the screams and explosions. The West Germans were counter-attacking, at least in battalion strength. His force had been badly it. Of his T-72Ms, 1 company was all but gone, three of the four tanks around the farm blown up by Leopards, a fourth reporting infantry assaulting them before surrendering; the survivor was still bogged down by the orchard. Two company had lost two tanks, with two more bogged. Kapitan Mazur had the devil’s own luck, escaping his tank, only to see his new mount survive a LAW and a Milan to the front. That he only reported minor mechanical trouble was a small miracle.

To the west the T-55s closest to the warehouses had suffered badly, losing three of five and another baled. The company behind had only lost two tanks, with a third baled. Still, they had sprung the Wessies’ trap and the force’s morale was holding.

Well, that was fun. I’m glad Matthew had won such a comprehensive victory in our first battle, or this might have been the end; he took his drubbing in reasonably good spirits and started thinking about how to fight back. I was a little disappointed that none of the Polish companies broke and ran, but unsurprised – between the last few weeks’ campaigning and the events of fifty years before, there were plenty of historic grudges to be settled.

The radio clicked off. Dabrowski might be a cautious bastard, but even Zielinski had to admit that he was keeping his head. His gunners were reporting multiple tank kills, but they were almost certainly exaggerating. The T-72s of 2 company claimed one Leopard 1, and the BMP-1s’ missiles had definitely killed another. Dabrowski’s surviving T-55s had blazed away at the barn to their front with their 100mm guns and claimed to report Wessies fleeing, but whether the damned ATGMs had been knocked out was anyone’s guess. Time to regroup and continue the advance.

[The Polish shooting could only be described as “desultory” – there wasn’t a lot to shoot with! Two Leopard 1 tanks and an infantry team wasn’t an outstanding haul for three T-72Ms, two BMP-1s and four T-55s!]

“I said we have encountered some resistance short of the main road, Comrade General,” Zielinski repeated. “We have engaged and will push through, but we have suffered casualties and will require reinforcement for the push forward.”

It was true, as far as it went, and that bastard Dabrowski would be making his own report. The Ludowe Wojsko Polskie was not immune from the Soviet distaste for failure, and personal leadership would be needed. Zielinski was ordering his improvised company forward when a massive crash rocked the entire tank. The next thing he knew, someone – one of the scouts, was it? – was tugging at his arms. Why was everything so hot? And his leg. Why was his leg…

Major Hugelschafer paused to swig from his canteen. His throat was parched, hoarse with calling into the radio, not helped by the mix of cordite, petrol fumes and the smoke from burning tanks. Burning Soviet tanks, he corrected himself. He allowed himself a small smile of triumph. The Poles wouldn’t be getting past his company. Landtfried’s Leopards had mopped up most of the T-72s, and the brave Marder zug on the eastern flank had put their Milans to good use, hitting the last of the T-72s facing them. They claimed a kill, but Hugelschafer had seen something moving off slowly. No matter.

He had felt real pride when the Marders roared up the road, Rheinmetal cannon blazing, blowing up two of the BMP scouts and halting a third, before a Leopard killed the fourth. Explosions blossomed among the remaining T-55s as his Milans took aim again. No, the Soviets were not getting past him here. A conclusive victory, though not without cost. One of the Leopards might be repaired, but another had gone up with its crew, and four of his landsers would need medical attention; two might not survive.

He took another sip of water and offered the canteen to… what was the radio operator’s name?

“Well done, gefreiter”. He clicked the radio to the company frequency. “Wunderbar, mein Herren. Just the way we have trained. Take a rest, check your ammunition, and report any injuries. A most deserved victory”.

[The West German turn 2 was a systematic mopping-up exercise. The Marders took out two BMPs, a Leopard claimed a third, and the bailed fourth failed its Morale check. Milans from the farm bailed the sole surviving T-72M at the east, and it too failed its Morale check. Milans blew up one T-72 from the second company and the survivor clearly felt his luck had been pushed too far, also giving up the fight. Milans accounted for two T-55s, with another platoon gone. A Leopard platoon officer managed to put a round through the front armour of the T-72M battalion commander at extreme range. That really didn’t leave much of the Soviet force – only one company of T-55s didn’t rout, simply because I didn’t have anything in line of sight to hit it (I had wondered about zooming my Luchs around the back for an opportunistic kill, but it didn’t seem wise to risk them).]

*****************************

Result: comprehensive West German victory, 0 platoons lost.
Victory points: West German 6 VPs, Polish 1 VP.

Well, that was a change! It was nice to see NATO firepower working exactly as it should. The Poles advanced too far and too fast at the start, failed to get any useful shooting, and then had most of their combat power blown away on the West German turn 1. By the time there were Bundeswehr targets visible, there wasn’t enough left to hit them.

The BMP-1s did a decent job, both through their Spearhead rule (getting the T-72s started much closer to the action) and as cheap ATGM carriers. The T-72Ms proved reasonably survivable, particularly when facing Leopard 1 fire at range, but they were no match for dug-in Milan teams.

The West German defence proved rock-solid but flexible. The Leopards were able to reposition, keeping in cover and killing everything in their relatively narrow lines of fire. The Milan teams were fantastic, enjoying bulletproof cover and decent lines of sight. I was pleasantly surprised at getting a LAW shot (which admittedly just singed the paintwork of its T-72 target) and being able to assault a lone T-72 by the farm. I had originally planned to take a platoon of two Gepards, but when it was clear I would be facing a tank-heavy force, I replaced them with a small M113 Panzergrenadier zug and a pair of Luchs. In the event the scout cars didn’t get used, but the extra infantry platoon proved invaluable, accounting for several T-72s.

You don’t usually see jaws drop, but that was definitely the case when Matthew realised that his tanks were cosying up around buildings which contained infantry with anti-tank weapons, and that he was well within assault range. He definitely won’t make that mistake again, and he wants infantry of his own. Combined arms is clearly the way to go – a lesson which the unfortunate Polish commander may not have lived to learn…