Another good question, Edwards thought. But I have too much on my mind to chew that one over. "We'll see."
STENDAL, GERMAN DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC
The battle for Hameln and the battle for Hannover were now essentially the same action. Two hours before, the NATO forces had withdrawn to the west, south of the industrial city, allowing them to shorten lines and consolidate. Soviet units were probing forward cautiously, suspicious of another German trap. Alekseyev and Commander-in-Chief West pored over their maps in an attempt to analyze the consequences of the NATO withdrawal.
"It allows them to put at least one, probably two brigades in reserve," Alekseyev thought. "They can use this Highway 217 to move troops rapidly from one sector to another."
"How often have the Germans given ground voluntarily?" his superior asked. "They didn't do this because they wanted to. Their lines were overextended. Their units are depleted."
"So are ours. The Category-B units we're committing to battle are taking losses almost a third greater than the 'A' units they replace. We are paying dearly for our advances now."
"We have paid dearly already! If we fail now it will all have been for nothing. Pasha, we must attack in force. This entire sector is ready to collapse."
"Comrade General, that is not my impression. Resistance is spirited. German morale remains high despite their losses. They have hurt us badly and they know it." Alekseyev had returned from the forward command post at Folziehausen only three hours before.
"Viewing the action from the front lines is very useful, Pasha, but it hinders your ability to perceive the larger picture."
Alekseyev frowned at that. "The larger picture" was frequently an illusion. His commander had told him that very thing many times.
"I want you to organize an attack along this entire front. NATO formations are gravely depleted. Their supplies are low, they have taken massive casualties. A vigorous attack now will sunder their lines on a fifty-kilometer front."
"We don't have enough A units to attack on this scale," Alekseyev objected.
"Keep them in reserve to exploit the breakthrough. We'll launch the attack with our best reserve divisions from Hannover in the north to Bodenwerder in the south."
"We don't have the strength for that, and it will use up too much fuel," Alekseyev warned. "If we have to attack, I suggest an assault on a two-division front here, south of Hameln. The units are in place. What you propose is too ambitious."
"This is not a time for half measures, Pasha!" CINC-West shouted. He'd never raised his voice to Alekseyev before. The younger man found himself wondering what pressure was being applied to his commander, who calmed down now. "An attack along a single axis allows a counterattack along a single axis," he continued. "This way we can greatly complicate the enemy's task. He can't be strong everywhere. We will find a weakness, break out, and drive our remaining A units through to the Rhein."
"Drop now-now-now!" O'Malley yelled. The eighth sonobuoy ejected from the side of the Seahawk, and the pilot brought the helicopter around and headed back east.
O'Malley had already been up for three long, grueling hours this time, with precious little to show for it. Stop, dip, listen; stop, dip, listen. He knew there was a sub down there, but every time he thought he was beginning to get a line on it, the damn thing slipped away! What was it doing different?
Hatchet was having the same problem, except its sub had turned around on it and nearly scored a hit on Battleaxe. The frigate's violent wake turbulence had detonated the Russian torpedo astern, but it had been close, too close by half. He brought the helicopter into hover.
"Down dome!" They hovered for a minute. Nothing. It began again. "Romeo, this is Hammer. You got anything, over?"
"Hammer, he just faded out a moment ago. Our last bearing was three-four-one."
"Cure. This character's listening for you to stop your sprint, and he cuts his power back."
"That's a fair guess, Hammer," Morris said.
"Okay, I got a barrier to the west if he heads that way. I think he's going due south, and we're dipping for him now. Out." O'Malley switched to intercom. "You got anything, Willy?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Prepare to raise dome." A minute later the helicopter was moving again. They dipped their sonar six more times in the next twenty minutes and came up blank.
"Again, Willy. Prepare to lower. Set it down to, uh, eight hundred feet this time."
"Ready, sir."
"Down dome." O'Malley squirmed in his seat. The outside temperature was moderate, but the sun made a greenhouse of the cockpit. He'd need a shower when he got back to the frigate.
"Searching at eight hundred feet, sir," the petty officer said. He was hot, too, though he'd brought a pair of cold drinks along for the flight. "Sir, I have something... possible contact bearing one-eight-five."
"Up dome! Romeo, Hammer, we got a possible contact south of us. Going after it now."
