Combat. Get out of the "cauldron"! Oleg tarugin

Pregnancy and children 29.06.2019

Oleg Vitalievich Tarugin

Combat. Get out of the "cauldron"!

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Special thanks to Boris Kaminsky (Sinitsyn).

Thank you very much, friends!

The author considers it his duty to remind that the events described in the book are partly fictional and may not coincide with the events real history. Characters The novel and the names of some geographical objects are also fictitious, and the author does not accept any responsibility for any coincidence. The names of some Red Army commanders have been changed or made up.

Terra-3, far future, a year before the events described

A pair of "Mi-50KA" air cover passed, it seemed, over the very head - inaudible blows of gravitational engines echoed in the chest with an unpleasant vibration, as if twisting the body from the inside. In fact, there was no less than fifty meters left before the space-atmosphere attack grav-flyers - if they went down even lower, the fighters of the assault company of the 42nd motorized infantry regiment, pressing into the soil of an alien planet, would have had a really bad time. However, nothing like this could happen: the pilots knew perfectly well who was under them. The identification system gave out corresponding marks on the visors of pilot helmets, highlighting their own with green light, and the enemy with red. If the combat vehicles were below the permissible height, the on-board computer would issue an appropriate warning, forcibly switching to autopilot and not allowing the "land" to be smeared on the surface of the rebellious planet.

The shutters of the weapon compartments retracted into the hull, and the sides of both "fifty kopecks" lit up with flashes of upper stages of launching missiles. Smoky trails rushed towards the enemy fortified point located half a kilometer away, and the prospect was clouded with a smoky-dusty haze pierced by flashes of fire. The blast wave carried out the remnants of windows, tore off the roofs and scattered the fences near the abandoned industrial buildings that were on the strike director; crushed the squat hangars assembled from metal-plastic panels. In the next instant, the dusty tsunami rushed back, driving the debris and debris raised by the explosion into the empty boxes of warehouses and administrative buildings. In full accordance with the laws of physics, air sought to occupy the area reduced pressure, the oxygen in which burned out in thousandths of a second: two dozen rockets fired were equipped with volumetric detonating warheads.

The Fifties parted ways, turning around. The eardrums were again unpleasantly depressed: even the semi-hermetic helmet of the third-class assault kit could not save from the gravitational wave. But the company commander, Captain Kobrin, no longer paid any attention to such trifles: a pictogram allowing the attack was displayed on the commander's tablet. The markers marking the enemy turned red and orange at once, less than a dozen of the latter, and Sergei grinned wickedly. The flyers did an excellent job, since out of almost a hundred snouts, only a dozen wounded remained! And this is from the first run! Of course, someone probably managed to hide in shielded underground shelters, and therefore the identification system on board the reconnaissance aircraft hanging in low orbit does not yet see them, but there simply cannot be many survivors physically - isn’t the battalion settled here? Yes, and the flyers have not gone anywhere - they have gained altitude and loitering over the area, preparing, if something happens, to come to the rescue again. They have enough ammunition for the second salvo. But when the assault company enters the suburbs, there will no longer be any sense from air support: inside the warhead of even the smartest “intellectual” missile there is the usual stupid explosives, for which it’s all the same whether it’s your own or that of others ...

Touching the sensor, Sergey activated the command channel:

- All numbers - an attack according to the "village" scheme. Separate, let the armor pass forward. "Boxes", meet in the "three" square, fire at your discretion. Even, keep flanks. Inprotection - in the maximum mode, do not save batteries. Ready? Started!

Something almost indistinguishable in the radio headset - it seems that somewhere the enemy was still working electronic warfare complex, clogging the radio with interference, mumbled the commander tank platoon, and the squat carcasses of armored vehicles, turning off the camouflage fields, took off. Just in case, Kobrin glanced at the data displayed on the helmet’s visor: no, there’s nothing to worry about, their suppressor is weak, not more powerful than the second class, jamming only radio communications, and even then no further than a kilometer. Well, to hell with it, you can do without it. That's all, forward, to the fortified area destroyed by the airstrike, only five hundred meters, not only to run - you can crawl.

We encountered the enemy when we almost passed the dilapidated industrial sector: quite recently, the farm of some commercial company was located here, judging by the abundance of warehouses involved in logistics. The buildings completely destroyed by the explosions were not inspected, moving on without fear - in the heaps of building structures crushed by the shock wave there were neither alive nor wounded, bioactivity scanners showed only inorganic materials. Kobrin did not look at the readings of the temperature sensors at all: after the impact with hyperbaric ammunition, there were a lot of hot spots around.

The tanks going first cleared the way as best they could, crushing the debris with their caterpillars and stuffing them with their armored foreheads. Sometimes they stopped, having received target designation from orbit, smoothly turned their flattened towers and fired several shots at targets known only to the commanders of armored vehicles. Mighty bushes of explosions rose ahead: MBTs of the T-114 type were armed not with plasma emitters or small-caliber electromagnetic rapid firers, but with the good old smooth-bore 152-mm 5A103-2M cannons of the 2110 model. The gun, although not new, is still quite effective, especially when it hits, like now, a guided missile with a volumetric detonating warhead.

Having once again shot back, the "boxes" moved forward - and here the surviving defenders of the strong point showed themselves. Kobrin did not notice exactly where they were shooting from, but around one of the tanks moving in the forefront, a triggered force screen suddenly flared up, taking on the impact energy, but the power of the enemy ammunition turned out to be higher, and fighting machine stopped abruptly. The mark on the tablet changed color to yellow, blinked, and turned red. Everything, the crew died, although the tank did not catch fire, apparently, the fire extinguishing system worked. That's just to help the tankers it could not do anything ...

And then there was no time to be distracted: almost immediately they knocked out a second armored car, and then it rumbled from all sides. Thinking distantly that for some reason there were too many enemies and it all resembled a classic trap, the captain gave the order to disperse. While running to the marked shelter - a loader turned upside down by a close explosion - and flopping on his belly behind a massive crane-beam, he managed to briefly get acquainted with the tactical situation entering the inner surface of the helmet's visor. The situation as a whole was not encouraging: in less than ten seconds of the battle - minus two "boxes" along with the crews and three wounded among his guys, one, judging by the intense orange color of the mark, was heavy.

The three surviving tanks of the platoon parted ways and cut into the ruins on the move, hiding from the fire of portable disposable plasma guns, the distant descendants of RPGs of the XX-XXI centuries. Unlike its progenitor, this weapon was equally effective against both armored vehicles and atmospheric aircraft or fortified firing positions. The maneuver was successful for two “boxes”, the third was less fortunate - the chassis was broken from the first hit: the enemy used something very modern, two- or even three-circuit, capable of breaking through the force field and having a sufficient barrier effect.

There was a short flash nearby, scattering debris and dust to the sides, a wave of hot air slammed the captain into the mangled frame of the loader. The light filters of the helmet instantly darkened, protecting his eyes from the flash, but Seryoga still involuntarily closed his eyes. External sensors howled, showing a critical increase in temperature and a drop in the protection level of the armor set by 40%. Wow, a little more - and it would be fried inside, as if in a microwave oven! Plasma blasted, bitches, did not spare the charge, as if he were a tank! Who is this smart guy? And, there is someone - an insurgent who got out of the ruins in almost the same armored suit as Kobrin threw aside the used tube of a disposable plasma gun and pulled a new one from the grips of the outer frame. Well, no, fuck you!

Oleg Tarugin

Kombrig from the future. Stop the Panzerwaffe!

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Despite the fact that the action of the book takes place during the Great Patriotic War, the author, for ethical reasons and respect for the memory of the fallen Heroes, will try not to describe specific military operations and will, if possible, avoid mentioning personalities who have entered the real story.

The events described in the book are largely fictional and may not coincide with the events of real history. The names of most commanders of the Red Army have been changed or made up.

Thank you very much, friends!

Moscow, Kremlin, July 1941

- But tell me, Comrade Marshal, what do you think about the military operations of Captain Minaev, about whom Lieutenant General Karbyshev reported? He praised him a lot.

An unexpected question puzzled the commander of the Western Front. No, Timoshenko knew perfectly well that, listening to the reports of his subordinates, the Leader did not leave a single detail unattended. But usually it concerned much more significant figures than some kind of battalion commander. On the other hand, why is there "some kind"? According to Karbyshev, it was his information and decisive actions that helped prevent the catastrophe of our troops near Bialystok.

- Well, be bolder, comrade marshal! Don't you have anything to say?

Clearing his throat, Semyon Konstantinovich answered:

- Comrade Stalin, I consider the actions of the battalion commander Minaev to be highly professional and correct.

But he disobeyed orders, didn't he? - grinning, Iosif Vissarionovich took a puff, wrapped in a thick cloud of tobacco smoke for a few seconds. - He succumbed to pravakation, so it turns out?

Well, what to answer? This is how it is - this strange battalion commander actually violated all conceivable and inconceivable pre-war orders, eventually turning out to be the winner. This means that he will have to speak as he thinks - any, even the smallest lie, the Leader will feel instantly.

- Comrade Stalin, of course, violation of the order is a crime. But it was thanks to his decisive actions that Captain Minaev not only saved the battalion, but also put up a serious rebuff to the enemy. And he significantly helped in the situation that has developed on this sector of the front, so Comrade Karbyshev is right. Ultimately, in the Minsk direction, the enemy suffered significant losses in manpower and equipment and significantly reduced the pace of the offensive. I think his action is justified in this particular situation.

- It turns out, sometimes it is useful to succumb to pravakation? – the interlocutor chuckled. - You can not answer this question. Tell me, what do you think, where did he get such accurate information about the beginning of the German attack? By radio, he even called the exact time of the artillery shelling.

“I think over time he just guessed. An experienced commander who had gone through two wars could not help but understand that dawn was the perfect time for an unexpected strike. As for the date... First of all, as you, Comrade Stalin, know perfectly well, in recent weeks the border guards have often detained defectors from the Polish side. They also called June 22, and more than once. And secondly, he could assume that the German command would choose exactly the longest day of the year for the attack. In that case, I would have done the same.

- Harasho, I understand you. And other battalion commanders also didn’t step out, what do you think? No one.

“I don’t know, Comrade Stalin.

“Well, I don’t know either ...” Iosif Vissarionovich drawled thoughtfully, carefully placing the pipe on the edge of a massive ashtray. "Although I'd love to know." Where is he now?

“Unfortunately, Comrade Stalin, he was most likely encircled in the last days of June. Where he is now, I don't know. Possibly killed or captured.

- What kind of marshals do Minya have who didn’t just say the beginning of the war was right, but also don’t know anything about their stepchildren? – without threat in his voice he said, again grinning. Some incompetent ones, yes. I'm just joking, comrade Timoshenko, don't strain yourself. But comrade Stalin knows. He came out of the encirclement together with an employee of the special department, comrade Mikheev reported to me. Go, Semyon Konstantinovich, you are free. And fight with all your might. Izo vseh, harasho? The main thing for us now is to prevent the capture of Smolensk by the enemy, because from there there is a direct road to Moscow.

After waiting for the marshal, who was puzzling over what all this conversation was for, to leave the office, Stalin took the receiver in his hand and leaned back in his chair, thinking. Still, something is wrong with this heroic battalion commander, very much wrong. He left the encirclement, or rather, was taken out by a reconnaissance group that met along the way, only the next morning he suddenly lost his memory. And not completely, but, so to speak, selectively, completely forgetting everything that happened since the dawn of the twenty-second. True, a couple of days before that he was shell-shocked, but Joseph Vissarionovich for some reason felt with all his being that everything was not so simple. It's not clear, it's not at all clear. And the Leader, who was accustomed to know everything and about everyone, did not like it very much. No, there is definitely something wrong! And therefore, you should not leave everything in the hands of the Third Directorate. He will find someone to deal with such ... riddles. Merkulov connect? No, not the same level. A competent comrade, no doubt, the former deputy of Lavrenty, and yet something told the Leader that this choice was wrong. And Iosif Vissarionovich used to trust his own feelings. Been in the past, you know precedents.

Having finished smoking, Comrade Stalin carefully put the extinct pipe in an ashtray so that the hot ash would absorb moisture from the mouthpiece, and ordered to connect it with the People's Commissar of Internal Affairs ...

Earth, distant future

This time Kobrin did not go to the bar - he simply did not want to. After wandering until dark in the city park, Sergei returned to the officer's dormitory room. There was no particular excitement, rather the opposite: he wanted quickly go back to the past. Per last year the memories of the days spent in the forty-first days never faded from memory, only became less sharp, like pebbles washed by the waves of the sea. They didn’t hurt me with edges anymore, leaving bleeding wounds on my soul, like the first months, but they still lay like a heavy burden. Somewhere along with the memories he brought back from Terra 3 and Virginia.

But there was also something else. What he did not tell at the mandatory interview to the staff psychologist of the academy, an old acquaintance with combined arms major shoulder straps and the cold look of a special services officer. Although he was persistently interested in whether Kobrin had noticed anything unusual over the past year.

A few months after returning to his time, he suddenly began to have dreams, which was practically not observed in his past life. And he dreamed of war. No, not fighting on colonized planets - the Great Patriotic War. Sometimes he saw in a dream the battalion commander Minaev, but much more often he saw a special officer. Most of the dreams replayed the battles he went through, but sometimes he talked with Victor. Alas, completely forgetting in the morning what exactly. There was only a kind of blurred aftertaste; an indistinct feeling that Zykin is seriously offended by him. Oh, if it were not for this damned "branch from the main stream"! He could try to find Vitka, after all, the level of the brigade commander is much higher than a simple battalion commander! But, alas, the chances are negligible. It is unlikely that the scientists are mistaken and he will again fall into the real past ...

And with Vitka, they, in fact, did not finish it. We didn't even get to say goodbye. Met in the forest - more precisely, silently crept up from the back, so minus you, comrade commander of the assault company! - the scouts escorted them to their own. Not in full force, of course. The main part of the group continued to carry out the task, and one of the guys brought them to a safe corridor. Within an hour and a half, the comrades were at the location of the Soviet troops preparing for the defense. They practically did not stay at the local counterintelligence officer: every day many Red Army soldiers left the encirclement, almost all with weapons and documents, so the survey in the special department turned out to be purely formal. Yes, and the presence of Zykin played a role. The veiled lieutenant of the State Security Service with eyes red from fatigue silently listened to Sergey's story, asking if Lieutenant General Karbyshev could confirm his words, and gave the protocol for signing. By this time, Victor had already been sent with a ride to the hospital - the local “be silent, be silent”, as it turned out, turned out to be his next acquaintance, so there were no unnecessary questions. As a result, Kobrin was given back his weapons and commander's book and was allowed to rest. For the time being, the battalion commander went to bed in the most gloomy mood, knowing full well that he was no longer destined to wake up at this time.

As, in fact, it happened.

And then, about a month later, these unexpected dreams began to visit him ...

One was especially memorable - when, for the first time in his life, he dreamed of his great-great-grandfather missing, intelligence lieutenant Fyodor Kobrin, who disappeared somewhere in the Belarusian forests in June forty-one. Oddly enough, this was the only dream he more or less remembered the contents of. The ancestor was shaking in the back of a lorry along another dusty primer, which Sergey had seen a great many over the past days, cradling his wounded hand on his chest. For some reason, the captain knew for sure that the wound was not dangerous, the German bullet pierced right through the bicep without hitting the bone, but the scout, despite the protest, was still sent to the hospital along with other wounded.

Kobrin did not remember the Red Army soldiers sitting next to him, at least one of them, the one that sat half-turned to his great-great-grandfather, seemed suspiciously familiar. For some reason, Sergei did not doubt at all that this was an ancestor. At first, Fyodor looked indifferently over the plank side into the distance, grimacing briefly from the pain in his wounded arm, when the truck was tossed especially strongly on road bumps. Then, as if sensing something, he slightly turned his head, unmistakably finding Kobrin's eyes with his gaze. With a barely perceptible smile, he said without opening his lips - the words seemed to be imprinted in his mind:

- Well, great, grandson! Nothing that I am like that, easily? And while you pronounce all these “great-great-great”, you will break your tongue ...

- Great ... grandfather, - the captain answered just as silently. “Nothing, of course. Uh… how are you?

- What will I do? Alive as you can see. And the wound is a trifle, it will heal like a dog. It’s even a shame that they put him in the hospital, he could have continued to run. AT last time it turned out worse, the shrapnel shattered my thigh right to the very bone, I had to stay so that the detachment would not be delayed. So he died in the forest missing and unburied.

- Last time? Sergey sincerely did not understand. - Is that how it is?

“Don’t you understand yourself?” Eh, youth ... Okay, I'll explain. Last time, my reconnaissance group ran into the Germans when we were looking for a loophole to ours from the Bialystok pocket. There I caught my fragment. While my guys were leaving, I held back the Germans as much as I could. Then the cartridges ran out, and he lost a lot of blood. But now no boiler has happened, so my fate has gone along a different track. So thank you, grandson, helped. I will fight again. I’ll heal my hand a bit and go back to the front. And a week or two will not pass, as I will achieve an extract, I tell you right! There is no need for me to lie on the bed in vain when such things are going on around.

- So ... - Sergey tried to gather thoughts jumping like spent cartridge cases into a heap. “So now you, uh, won’t go missing?” Do I understand correctly?

“Maybe I won’t be lost,” the scout shrugged his healthy shoulder imperturbably. Or maybe it's the other way around, who knows? I don't know, it's you from the future, not me.

“Grandfather, how can…

“Everything,” he snapped abruptly. “Neither you nor I need to know more. Go and fight, do not disgrace me or other ancestors. And know, Seryozha, I'm proud of you. You chose the right profession, man. Keep it up. It is always an honorable thing to defend the Motherland, wherever it is, that Motherland, may be.

Great-great-grandfather winked merrily and turned away. Kobrin looked perplexedly at his short-cropped nape and shifted his gaze to the commander sitting next to him, unexpectedly recognizing Vitka Zykin in him. Well, yes, he’s sure, how did he not understand right away ?! Joyfully throwing himself up, he wanted to call out to his friend, to introduce him to his great-great-grandfather, who had suddenly found himself, but, as usual, the alarm clock buzzing at the wrong time instantly severed the connection that did not exist in reality ...

The next day, the confused captain sent a new request to the combined data bank of the archive of the Ministry of Defense. The received answer could not please anything: Lieutenant Fedor Andreevich Kobrin was still listed as missing during the hostilities. But the date has changed, shifted by two months - according to new data, this happened not in June, but in August of the forty-first ...

Smiling mirthlessly, Sergei closed the sent file. Here, then, how - by his intervention in history, he gave his great-great-grandfather two extra months of life. Not good, alas. On the other hand, it turns out that the dreams that visit him are not a figment of fantasy or a delusion of a mind tired during the school day, but something real to some extent, carrying a certain semantic load that can be verified. Interesting, even very. Just what does this mean? Some residual mental connection to that world? But in this case, he should rather be dreaming of the former recipient, battalion commander Minaev, and not Zykin. And certainly not a great-great-grandfather, from whom there was not even a photograph left in the family album digitized a hundred years ago. Means what? Yes, only that he absolutely does not understand anything! But you can’t tell anyone about this, especially a special psychologist, otherwise, what good, it can be removed from the passage of the next Simulator. Moreover, it is still unknown WHICH variant of the past he is dreaming of ...

Having driven away unhappy thoughts, Kobrin took a shower and collapsed into a bunk. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day and you need to get enough sleep. Going through the second training session in your life will not be any easier than the first one, rather the opposite: after all, the brigade commander has a higher responsibility than an ordinary battalion commander, and there are much more people under his command. So it will be necessary to fight again seriously, because for some reason the captain did not doubt at all that this time he would be in the forty-first. On the other hand, you might think that last time he fought half-heartedly! I wonder if he will again take command of his native infantry or will the training curators come up with something new? Yes, it will certainly be so, after all, the assault companies of the future are direct descendants of the legendary “queen of the fields” of the twentieth century. With this thought, Kobrin fell asleep.

Not knowing what is wrong...

There was no fear. There wasn't at all. Sergey just woke up, almost habitually emerging from the dark pool of short-lived unconsciousness, somehow immediately and completely capturing the consciousness of the recipient. Not the slightest resistance, like last time. Just one infinitely long moment, and his own "I" filled someone else's mind, like water - an empty container. Another moment - and he finally realized himself, and in both guises at once: and as the captain of the assault company of the 42nd MPP Sergey Vladimirovich Kobrin, a sophomore cadet of the VASN. And as lieutenant colonel Sergei Vasilyevich Senin, commander tank brigade The 101st TD, urgently deployed near Smolensk to organize a counterattack and ensure an exit from the operational encirclement of Soviet troops caught in the ring. Oh, there it is, so how? Already a lieutenant colonel? Not bad he rose, one might say, jumped over the rank. And the fact that they are also namesakes is even good, it’s easier to get used to. So, do not be distracted, we continue the analysis. By the way, the ease of psi-association also found its explanation: the recipient was so tired that the donor's mind did not even have to make additional efforts to suppress someone else's consciousness. This could also happen if Senin got seriously drunk the day before. But the brigade commander was absolutely sober. Just inhuman fatigue after the hassle of several extreme days.

Short gatherings at the checkpoints, loading equipment and materiel into the echelon, a trip under incessant bombardment, when, due to once again broken tracks, we had to stand for a long time, sometimes in literally in an open field, wondering who will be in time first - the railway workers who arrived on a repair train from the nearest station or German dive bombers. Finally, the hasty unloading, which cost the brigade commander a good bunch of nerves - at night, in a terrible turmoil and confusion, in observance of blackout (it's just amazing that there were no serious emergencies) - and a many-kilometer forced march in the dark over an unfamiliar area, away from the station ... yeah, it was from what to be exhausted to the limit! With that clear, let's move on.

Temporary binding? August forty-first, the battle of Smolensk. Eighth number. Yes, stop. Why August, because Smolensk was completely captured by the Nazis on July 28?! Kobrin spent almost a minute mentally comparing his own information with what the recipient knew. Aha, that's it! There was no Bialystok cauldron in this reality, and the Nazis did not get along too well with Minsk. Most of the troops managed to retreat in an organized manner, so that no three hundred thousand prisoners and a heap military equipment not left around. As a result, the capital of Belarus fell almost a week later, which is why the dates have shifted. And not only the dates - a lot went wrong, as it was in reality. Well done, our Fritz slowed down! Let not by much, but slowed down ...

On the other hand, why not much? A whole week in the conditions of the summer of the forty-first is a very, very good result. WHAT?! It suddenly dawned on Sergei what all this meant: it turns out that he again fell into the same world! There are no branches and parallel realities"! They are actually sent to the real past! So he will be able to find Vitka Zykin. Find out how the fate of Captain Minaev and General Karbyshev turned out. To continue what I started at dawn on the twenty-second of June. And all his incomprehensible dreams are not just dreams, but something much more!

“Calm down, captain,” a suddenly awakened inner voice said with cold skepticism. - It means only that which means nothing. If Simulator was held in the real past, the future is your future! - it just couldn't change in one way or another. But so far, of all the visible changes, there is only the date of the death of your great-great-grandfather, which has shifted by two incomplete months. This time. But the most important thing is that you were not the only one who went through the training. And you were not the only one who could replay the course of the border battle. Do you remember how the lieutenant general said: three cadets, including yourself, held out for more than a day? So, this, most likely, is one of the three altered parallel realities, that's all. This is two. And finally, stop fooling around and get down to business. Figure out who you are and what's going on around you."

Kobrin mentally sighed, recognizing the deadly correctness of the second "I": in fact, there is no need to reassure yourself. And there are other things that are more important. Relaxing, he made the final association, first of all, banishing the previous life of the forty-year-old brigade commander in his memory. A former cavalryman, he fought in the Civil War in the First Cavalry under the command of Budyonny. Conflict on the Chinese Eastern Railway, wounded, six months in the hospital. After graduating from the tank school, he took command first of a platoon, then a company. Served in the Far East. In the thirty-eighth, he was arrested on the slander of a colleague, fully acquitted due to the lack of corpus delicti, reinstated in rank and position. By the way, the scammer was soon arrested, after a short investigation and trial he was sentenced to the highest measure of social protection according to "58-1b" - he turned out to be a real Japanese spy.

Next - the battles on Lake Khasan, a year later - Khalkhin Gol, where he fought as part of the 11th brigade of light tanks of the 57th special rifle corps. There he met the current division commander, Colonel Grigory Mikhailovich Mikhailov. Again, a wound, this time a slight one - a small burn of his hands when he got out of a burning tank lined by the Japanese - two military awards and another promotion in rank. Until September 1939, he served in Mongolia, in his native brigade. In the spring of the forty-first, at the request of Mikhailov, he was transferred to the 52nd TD of the North Caucasus Military District, received a regiment under command. The family, wife and two children, but did not have time to transport relatives before the start of the war, remained in Khabarovsk. At the end of the summer, the division was renamed the 101st tank division, replenished with new combat vehicles and hastily transferred to the Western Front, in the Smolensk region. At the same time - a little earlier than in the history known to him - it was decided to replace the tank regiments with brigades. Okay, that's all. Now you need to decide where exactly it is located, and “remember” the events of the next few days. Subordinates, especially command staff, technical equipment, fuel and ammunition, forces and means of the enemy, immediate plans of the command.

So, according to the current staff, the brigade includes three battalions, a total of ninety-three tanks. The first battalion - two companies of medium tanks ("T-34", excellent!) And a company of heavy "KV". The second and third are equipped with light "BT" and "twenty-sixth" of various modifications. A motorized rifle and machine-gun battalion is also very good. True, about the "motorized" - this, to put it mildly, is somewhat exaggerated, there are problems with transport, and serious ones, but everything is in order with the rifle, machine guns according to the state, more than a third of the fighters managed to rearm with self-loading rifles. Well, nothing Soviet infantry not accustomed to special comfort, more accustomed to stamping her feet. Air cover - anti-aircraft artillery battalion, equipped mainly with rapid-fire automatic guns. Quite good. Support units…

- Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, get up! - resolutely tearing Sergei away from his thoughts, a soft voice was heard above his ear. - They asked to wake me up at four, now it's just three minutes to the minute. It's already light.

Startled with surprise, Kobrin hurriedly opened his eyes, carefully pretending that he had just woken up. Above him stood, as the memory of the recipient prudently suggested, Lieutenant Maleev, a clerk at the headquarters of the brigade.

Having interpreted the commander’s reaction in his own way, he smiled guiltily:

“Excuse me, comrade lieutenant colonel, I know that we didn’t get enough sleep, but they ordered us to wake them up ourselves. Now Vanya will bring breakfast and hot water, shave. In forty minutes I will gather the rest in the staff hut.

- That's right, tarsch lieutenant colonel! The lieutenant saluted and hurriedly retreated. He's afraid of him, isn't he? By the way, it seems that yes - Lieutenant Colonel Senin has a reputation as a very sharp commander, seriously moved towards justice. Looks like the consequences of that long-standing arrest.

Sitting down on the bed that creaked under his weight, Sergei cleared his throat, clearing his throat - in fact, his voice is hoarse not so much after sleep, but because he has not fully mastered the motor skills of the brigade commander. There just wasn’t time, or maybe it was the last time: you could calmly come to your senses, walk around the room, getting used to the “new” body, and all that. Kobrin mentally grinned - I wonder if this is so conceived or just an accident? In order to, so to speak, complicate the task of the trainee? If on purpose, then the passage of the next "Simulator" will begin with the fact that he will come to his senses directly during the battle! And then get out as you want. A joke, of course, but it was not in vain that in the old days it was said that in every joke there is a share of a joke ... or is it correct to say, “a grain of truth”? Never remember...

Having driven away untimely thoughts, the captain rose to his feet, pulled on his overalls, which smelled of diesel fuel and oil, and put on shoes - boots covered with stale footcloths were found near the bed. I looked around: the most ordinary hut, not especially big. The low ceiling darkened from time to time, the unheated stove in the corner, the windows wide open for the summertime, hung with faded curtains swaying in a light breeze. In the red corner is an empty shelf-icon, covered with an embroidered towel. As far as Kobrin knew the realities of the time, the absence of images could mean only one thing: the inhabitants left, leaving the village. Village? Rummaging through the memory of the recipient, Sergei found the information he needed - well, yes, it was the village with the quite predictable name of Lesukhino, located less than ten kilometers from the outskirts of Smolensk, in which a tank brigade was stationed after a night march.

Having walked a little around the room, Kobrin sat down a couple of times and made several energetic passes with his hands, as if performing a warm-up complex. The body obeyed perfectly, with fine motor skills, too, everything turned out to be in perfect order. It's a pity there is no mirror within reach, I wonder how he looks now. Although the lieutenant mentioned about shaving, it means that there is a mirror, why not blindly scrape his face with a dangerous razor?

Girdling himself with a worn harness, he automatically checked for the presence of a pistol in a holster. While no one sees, he conducted an audit of pockets, studying personal belongings. Here are those on the underground Senin, as it turned out, smokes. An unpleasant discovery - Kobrin himself never indulged in bad deeds. And in general, in his time this harmful and dangerous habit finally came to naught a hundred and fifty years ago. He will have to smoke, otherwise he will burn out instantly. But how will his mind react to this? It will be funny if you get used to it!

- Allow me, comrade lieutenant colonel? - Having waited for a nod from the commander who turned towards the canopy, a corporal crept sideways into the hut with a bowler hat in one hand and a smoky teapot in the other. Grunting the dishes against the surface of the table in the center of the room, the tanker placed an empty aluminum mug next to him and pulled out a clean rag with several slices of grayish bread and unevenly chopped sugar wrapped in gauze. From the pot came the breathtaking aroma of slightly burnt buckwheat porridge with stew, and Sergey involuntarily swallowed the saliva that filled his mouth.

- Bon appetit, commander. The kettle is full, and there will be enough gulls to brew and shave. Mulberry tea leaves, in marlechka, along with sugar. You eat as long as it's not cold. May I go?

“Go,” Kobrin waved his hand, whose stomach rumbled perceptibly from the appetizing smell that tickled his nostrils. Well, yes, the recipient didn’t really manage to have dinner yesterday, before going to bed he ate a couple of crackers with a mug of cooled tea - that’s all.

While I was having breakfast and clumsily shaving - a dangerous razor and a small mirror in a leatherette case were found in a field bag, so I worried in vain - I managed to sort out "on the shelves" all the information known to both Senin and himself regarding the recent past and immediate plans. Neither one nor the other frankly did not please. The problem lay in the fact that the brigade commander, for obvious reasons, did not have full information about the current state of affairs at the front. The knowledge “brought” from the future, as it turned out, had almost completely depreciated by that moment as a result of the changes in reality that had taken place. What is the use of knowing how everything was in the story where Smolensk fell at the end of July, if it is already the second week of August, and the battles for the city continue? Both the Red Army and the Wehrmacht repeatedly changed plans, suffered losses, received reinforcements, which can only mean one thing: events are now developing according to some new scenario, about which Kobrin simply knows practically nothing. Only what is known to its recipient, of course ... who, as it turns out, is only the second day at the front ...

Sadly, of course, but on the other hand, no one promised him an easy walk into the past. AT last time he knew exactly what the enemy would do, what forces and means he had at his disposal, now - very, very approximately. Perhaps this is the deep meaning of the Simulator: no more odds, no global afterthought, now think exclusively for yourself? Move your brains, improvise, learn to think strategically, having only general ideas about what is happening on a huge front. Was it in vain that he spent two years in the academy in government trousers? By the way, this time no one will pull out the cadet until the training is completed, no matter what it is, this very completion, it turns out - for the same reason voiced above. No hints and preliminary "debriefings", like the first time. It is said: "think for yourself" ...

And yet the most important thing, from Sergey's point of view, turned out to be just that the course of historical events nevertheless began to change, albeit slowly, with a delay of a week or two, but it began! However, the latter is just quite understandable - the changes made by the "guests from the future" are too small so far. No, the prevention of the encirclement of the troops of the 3rd and 10th armies in the Bialystok ledge and the destruction of the plans of the Oberkommando regarding the Minsk pocket is a huge achievement for June forty-first. Hundreds of thousands of fighters and thousands of pieces of equipment were saved; the Nazis had to hastily revise the original plans of the Barbarossa, which in any case plays against them.

But the German military machine, for which the industry of almost all of Europe works, is still too strong and perfectly organized. The first losses are, by the way, very significant, many times greater than originally thought! - still have no effect on general position affairs at the front. Yes, and German generals, unfortunately, are not so easy to knock out of the saddle - the old school. It didn’t work out that way - they’ll try that. Chaos in the command and control of the troops of the Red Army, if it became less, then, alas, not much. So let's wait. And we will help, of course. Otherwise, why is he here? If the theory of a gradual increase in temporal changes (the very popular “internal cumulation theory”, according to which changes introduced from the outside accumulate until a certain “point of no return” is reached, after which the future begins to change like an avalanche) is correct, then with each new “Simulator”, with each For a cadet who has successfully completed the course, this very point is getting closer and closer!

Finishing off the cooled tea, which had managed to turn into a dark film, Sergey already habitually rummaged through the memory of the recipient, finding out how things were with the materiel, primarily fuel and ammunition. I was surprised to find out that everything is more or less normal with this - much better than it was in the past that he knows about. Well, at least with regards to his brigade. For example, it turned out not bad with fuel: three-ton "ZIS" - "nalivnyaks" managed to unload at a nearby station after dark and followed the tanks. It’s already good, you won’t have to abandon serviceable combat vehicles just because there wasn’t a drop of diesel fuel or gasoline left in the tanks. Ammunition is also tolerable, for the first time there will definitely be enough, and then, hopefully, they will give us more: the rear arrived in different echelons, sometimes coming with a significant delay. They will unload and bring up, if only they don’t fall under an air raid, the Germans are great masters to hunt defenseless columns. Yes, and tanks from the division, as often happened at the beginning of the war, no one pulled out to plug another breakthrough. Either they did not have time, because they only arrived at the front yesterday, or there was nothing of the kind in this version of the story. Rather, the first, of course ... The gunners also did not let us down - the howitzer artillery regiment included in the division did not lag behind, did not stretch and did not lose the rear. Not bad, not even very bad. Their ammunition, however, is scanty, at most for half an hour of normal artillery preparation, but thanks for that. Look, they'll bring you up too.

Yet the overall situation remained critical. No matter how Kobrin tried to "grind" the recipient's knowledge to his own data, no matter how he rearranged the dates taking into account the time shift, he could not find a way out. Smolensk can no longer be held. It is possible to slow down the Fritz for another week, but the city will have to surrender sooner or later. And sooner rather than later, alas. So he definitely got excited about the week. And strongly. On the other hand, in a strategic sense, the blitzkrieg has almost fizzled out. And before Smolensk falls, it will run out of steam even more. Yes, and Hitler's decision to deploy part of the troops to Leningrad and Kyiv, as in last time, had its influence. And these are extra weeks, and even months, so necessary for preparing first a defense, and then a counterattack near Moscow. Which, as it seems to him, will turn out to be much more crushing than in the history known to him. And the extra weights on the scales of the very theory of internal cumulation - after all, no one knows when the total "weight" of changes will overcome the natural inertia of time.

Putting aside the empty mug, Kobrin spread out a map on the table, peering into the symbols drawn by the recipient's hand. Before you go to your headquarters, you need to estimate the disposition and your own plans for today. Or rather, morning. Well, what about the finale of the Smolensk battle as a whole? Let's hope, this time everything will be different! If not strategically, then at least tactically.

Cities can also be rented in different ways. As well as retreat.

Including so that the analysts of the Hitlerite General Staff subsequently came to the conclusion that the losses of the advancing troops were too great ...

Zykin climbed into the back of a lorry leaving for the rear in the most gloomy frame of mind. They didn't even let me say goodbye to Stepanych! No, it’s understandable that he needs to go to the hospital as soon as possible – the wound is itching more and more, the skin around the bullet holes has turned suspiciously red, and the temperature seems to have started to rise – but still, somehow it didn’t work out well. Well, at least he more or less knew the head of the local special department, Lieutenant Makarychev - they crossed paths a couple of times before the war. So there was no red tape here, Vanka didn’t bother him, checked the documents and let him go. It's a shame, of course, to waste time in the hospital, but there's nothing to be done about it. He definitely needs to heal, he’s pounding, despite the hot day ...

Having climbed into the body with the help of the fighters attached to help the doctors, Victor sat down on a bench next to the lieutenant wounded in the arm, judging by the battered camouflage suit - a scout. Having fidgeted, he settled himself comfortably, leaning his healthy half of his back against the side. It is impolite, of course, to sit sideways to a comrade in misfortune, sort of turning away, but otherwise it will become a sore spot on every pothole to hit the boards. After waiting for the rest of the evacuees to be loaded, the truck driver lifted the side and, after checking the locks, climbed into the cab.

Snorting a couple of times, the engine started up, and the lorry started off. Pulling onto the road, the driver jerked up the speed. The fighter sitting next to Zykin was thrown at the mamlei, a short pain shot through his wounded chest, and he hissed in a choked voice, bleeding air through tightly compressed lips. Zar-raza! With a quick glance at him, the scout slammed the fist of his good hand on the dusty tin roof:

- Hey, brother, for the first time sat down at the steering wheel, or what? Don't pull like that, you're carrying people, not firewood! There are wounded, if you do not know! That's right, tarsh junior lieutenant of state security? – the latter referred to Victor.

Glancing at the grinning scout, he forced a smile in response, suddenly remembering how he himself got behind the wheel of a captured Opel a few days ago. At first, it didn’t turn out very well - starting off, he revved so that he almost rammed the stern of the truck in front. Luckily, I managed to stop in time.

- Yes, everything is fine, you can see for yourself what kind of road is here after the tanks have passed. Not a road, but one continuous direction.

"That's true, too," he agreed, holding out his hand. - Yes, you don’t turn around, sit as comfortably as you can, and I will prop you up with my shoulder, in any way softer than leaning on the boards. Let's meet?

- Can. Junior Lieutenant Zykin, Viktor. Special department.

- Lieutenant Kobrin, front-line intelligence. They call Fedor.

- Very nice. - The counterintelligence officer languidly shook the scout's dirty hand. He, too, was not particularly zealous, afraid to cause pain to his comrade.

The next moment it dawned on him:

"Wait, what did you say?" Kobrin? Fedor Andreevich? So?

- Well, yes ... - he confirmed in surprise, looking incomprehensibly at Zykin's face. - That's right. And what's the matter, tarsch junior lieutenant? We didn’t seem to have crossed paths before, I have a 100% memory for faces. Professional, so to speak.

“No, nothing, sorry, Lieutenant. You just reminded me of a good friend, his name was exactly the same. He and I have been… um… lost for a long time, still on Finnish. He most likely died. And then I heard a familiar name and thought that I was mistaken, that a comrade was found. Sorry, lieutenant, it seemed that now I took a closer look - you don’t really look like him. The error came out...

And hastily turned away, biting his lip to the point of pain, so as not to give himself away by the expression on his face. Look how it turned out: Stepanych asked me to remember the name of the ancestor, and he remembered it. How did he say there - “disappeared without a trace at the end of June forty-first”? Uh huh, that's right. Well, the situation… why not tell him that his own great-great-grandson is sitting half a kilometer away? And what kind of great-great-grandson is he, if for everyone he is battalion commander Minaev?

“No, I didn’t hit Finnish,” the scout shook his head, looking thoughtfully into the short-haired back of the head of the special officer. - And what a mistake - anything can happen, you never know similar people in the world. That's what you are, brother, let's cuddle up to me, we'll have a long ride, it won't even shake the hour ...

* * *

Outskirts of Smolensk, August 1941

Kobrin liked the commander's tank. Almost brand new Kharkov "thirty-four", still with the "bald" caterpillar of the old model, but already with a normal gun 41 caliber long, which especially pleased the captain. Of course, there was also a radio station on board - and how could it be otherwise? The tank is a commanding one. True, Sergei did not have special hopes for "71-TK-3". Since from the next info package uploaded during the preparation, he knew very well how often the radio stations failed even due to the banal vibration caused by the movement of the tank over rough terrain or the shots of the turret gun. Not to mention something more serious, like hitting the front armor projection of enemy blanks. Sometimes, after a serious battle, even the lamps had to be changed, because they fought, infections, mercilessly, unable to withstand prohibitive loads. As a matter of fact, the tank rarely stood without repair for more than three to five battles: something was sure to break, if not the chassis, then the engine or transmission. Yes, and the mechanic drivers went on the attack, as a rule, in second gear, regulating the speed only with gas, which, of course, did not add any resource to the engine at all ...

In principle, Senin, as a brigade commander, was supposed to have a heavy tank, but the lieutenant colonel chose a more maneuverable "thirty-four". In what Kobrin turned out to absolutely agree with the recipient: he would have done exactly the same. Let the armor be thinner, but the speed and, accordingly, maneuverability are much higher. And the gun is more powerful than the outdated L-11. "KV", by the standards of the forty-first year, of course, the car is practically not killed by the fire weapons available to the Germans, but there are a lot of problems with it, both in battle and on the march. Especially for the driver, who sometimes switched gears with the efforts of the gunner-radio operator, yeah ...

The crew, which, as memory prompted, Lieutenant Colonel Senin selected himself, he also liked. Normal guys and, most importantly, who managed to make war. Driver-mechanic Viktor Tsygankov was driving a T-28 in Finnish. Gunner-radio operator Grisha Bozhkov and the tower commander, simply charging Stepan Anisimov, passed Khasan and Khalkhin-Gol as part of the 11th brigade, native to the lieutenant colonel. On the light tank Of course, but now it didn't matter. The radio is almost the same type, except that the unitar is heavier. But there is more space inside and the armor is much more serious.

Responding to the greetings of the subordinates lined up in front of the combat vehicle, Kobrin briefly told them what was to be done, and commanded "in places!"

The first to climb into the tank, as required by instruction, was a radiotelegraph operator-machine gunner, slipping feet first into the hatch, followed by a mechanic. Grasping the barrel of the cannon lowered horizontally, Kobrin also climbed onto the armor. It turned out surprisingly cleverly: the reflexes of the recipient, who had done this more than once or twice, helped. In principle, he remembered that, according to the same instructions, the commander was supposed to load from the port side, but the early T-34s did not yet have landing rails on the hull and turret, so it was more convenient. Having settled in his place, the captain connected to the TPU. Here, by the way, is another local superdevice that performed its functions, to put it mildly, not too well - it was not without reason that at the beginning of the war, tank commanders relied more on gestures and a boot rested on the back of the driver.

Imperceptibly for his comrades, he looked around, getting used to the car again, inside which he had never been in his life. Admitted to the passage of the "simulator" cadets, however, were taken to the largest tank museum on the planet in Kubinka, allowed to sit inside the historical combat vehicles and even taught the basics of driving. But it was this particular model that Sergey did not know, even though he drove the “thirty-four” around the training ground a couple of times - post-war production, of course, specially restored for such purposes. It was rumored that there were several more cars in running condition in the hangars of the Mosfilm media concern, but Kobrin did not really believe in this. Why, if for a hundred years already military equipment does it perfectly replace high-end computer graphics or replicas made with the highest historical accuracy? Although who knows them, filmmakers? Those guys are still retrogrades. Look, small arms are not replaced with replicas, using very real samples on the set, released back in the twentieth century. Moreover, films about the Great Patriotic War are still in demand by the audience, and not only on Earth.

Yeah, he was not mistaken, the tank is actually fresh from the factory. And the leatherette seats have not yet been rubbed off, and the inner surface of the armor, painted with white paint, is almost not tarnished by the ever-dirty tanker's palms and overalls soaked in solarium, has not darkened from powder burning. Even the regular canvas bag for spent cartridges is brand new, not burnt in any place, which can tell a lot to an understanding person. Ammunition is full, and "suitcases" of the main laying, and "clamps" on both sides. Well, not bad, there will be something to fight. Although if the battle is really serious - and there were no others at that time - the unitaries will quickly come to an end.

“Start it up,” Kobrin replied, then turning to the radio operator: “Grisha, is there a connection with the battalion commanders and company commanders?” Good, give the order to start moving.

Having connected the mass with the help of a radio operator, Tsygankov was busy with a fuel cock and a hand pump, increasing the pressure in the fuel system. Turning off the main clutch, trampled the fuel pedal and pressed the starter button. The engine picked up the second time, powerfully roaring with all its five hundred "horses". The pipes puffed with smoke, pierced by the sparks of an unburned solarium.

- Done, - the driver reported, sticking the gear. - We can go.

Leaning out of the hatch, Kobrin extended his hand with a yellow signal flag, which meant “Attention. Get ready to move." After making sure that the battalion commanders noticed and rehearsed the command to the company commanders, he pulled the flag up and down several times, ordering them to form a marching column. Commanded the mechanic:

- Vitya, let's go ahead a little. Let's go right behind the second company, and let the "Voroshilovs" follow the rod, maybe they won't lag behind.

Having waited for its turn, the T-34 smoothly swung and began to move, gradually picking up speed. Sergei looked around, making sure that the rest of the combat vehicles also started, dropping under the tracks the disguise he had cut in the forest and lining up in a column. Tank commanders were sticking out in the turret hatches with flags raised in their hands. That's fine. As long as everything goes more or less. Someone, of course, will stall before driving even hundreds of meters, someone will lag behind on the march, but this will not be able to change anything. Not for them, not for the Germans. Because there will be no return. Now just go ahead and...

“... and it’s possible without a song,” recalling the expression that came from nowhere, the captain chuckled mirthlessly to himself. - What the hell is the song here, if the fight is not for life, but for death? Those who sang before the war are no longer relevant, because “with little blood” and “in a foreign land” did not work. And new ones, which will be sung in two hundred years, have not yet been written. Neither the "dark-skinned girl", nor "Fire beats in a cramped stove" ... "

Going down - the loader reached for the turret hatch stopper, but Kobrin shook his head resolutely - the captain sat down in his place. It was just merciless on the forest dirt road, and it took him a few minutes to get used to it. Everything turned out to be not so difficult - the main thing is to grab onto something motionless and catch the rhythm, merging with the combat vehicle into one whole. But with the deafening, despite the tightly buttoned tank helmet, the roar of a diesel engine, nothing could be done. It’s strange, when in the future I wound circles around the range, there wasn’t such a roar? However, it is clear what the matter is: then the cadets were given modern headsets with incomparably better sound insulation. Let's change...

We stopped after an hour and a half of the march, when the goal was no more than three kilometers away. Then practically open places began, to meddle where without reconnaissance was complete idiocy. This is if you do not remember about the enemy anti-tank batteries, placed and disguised, it must be assumed, with all care and other German pedantry. Fortunately, the terrain for this, unfortunately, was almost ideal, with many swampy lowlands, shallow but winding ravines and other geodetic charms that any military fortifier could easily turn into an artillery position. Kobrin was not going to start an offensive without reconnaissance and artillery preparation, since the artillerymen managed to keep up and not stretch the rear. Even if the division headquarters will think otherwise.

- Comrade brigade commander, the battalion commander once again reports that intelligence has returned! - Maleev, who ran up, reported in a breathless voice. - I'll see, the reconnaissance battalion settled there.

- Okay, let's go. - Kobrin threw a headset to Bozhkov, who leaned out of the driver's hatch (he caught the commander's "tank cap") and smoothed his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead with his palm. - Grisha, the crew must not leave the car. And listen to the enemy broadcast, all of a sudden something interesting will happen.

“Well, I almost don’t understand their language,” the tanker was puzzled. - So, a dozen words, if they don’t part. What will I find there?

“So, he skipped classes at school,” Sergey grinned without malice. - Looks like dad whipped a little, loser. Did you hear the order of the senior in rank? Heard. So do it to the best of your ability and with all the proletarian diligence.

- There is ... - the radio operator drawled sourly, hastily hiding, away from sin, in the tank. The loader sticking out of the tower, not hiding, whinnied. But, having stumbled upon the commander's quick glance, he instantly dived down, slamming the massive lid with a creak. Tsygankov, who tapped the fingers of the trucks, did not repeat his comrade's mistakes, hiding his smile in time behind his lush mustache, yellowed from tobacco smoke, and with redoubled zeal began to work with a hammer.

“They’ve been talking ...” the lieutenant began in a condemning tone, but Senin, confirming the strict disposition of the recipient (you need to comply, yeah), briefly grunted:

“Forward, lieutenant, there is no time to wag your tongues. The German will not wait. I will deal with my crew myself, without prompting ...

* * *

- ... This, it appears, is their disposition, comrade lieutenant colonel, - the commander of the reconnaissance company finished wearily, moving half a step away from the three-fold map spread on the tank wing.

Kobrin was silent for several seconds, digesting the information, took a pencil from his hands and, lightly tapping on the paper, circled the indicated squares:

“So you only spotted four anti-tank batteries?” And three of them are small-caliber, no more than thirty-seven millimeters? And only one, this one, supposedly caliber seventy-five? Something is not enough ... Surely you are not mistaken, captain?

- No, I'm not mistaken. And why do they need more with such and such a width of the front? Here is a swamp, here and there - minefields, the Germans had time to set up and disguise their surprises. Well, and those howitzers that the third group reported. They will quite finish themselves here, this is not even the maximum distance for their feet. Plus aviation, you yourself know how they, creatures, work ...

- Welcome, intelligence, thank you. The captain firmly shook the hand of the scout, hardened by dirt and gun oil. - Rest for now, but don't blame me, captain, you may need it at any moment.

- Do I mind? - he was offended. - It's understandable. We need to go again.

After hesitating, Kobrin took the captain aside from the rest of the headquarters commanders. This did not cause much surprise to anyone: it seems that while Sergei's behavior was not much different from the "former" divisional commander.

“Listen, captain. Your words about howitzers do not give me rest. I saw what happens when our "boxes" fall under their fire. And the Germans also have an extremely bad habit, in which case, roll them out to a direct shot distance and peck them, as if from anti-tank ones. So answer: if our gods of war do not suppress their positions - and I will say frankly, I have practically no doubt about this - is there a chance for your fighters to get there and play a good fool? So that nothing else would shoot anywhere? Or did it shoot, but in a slightly different direction?

The scout looked at the brigade commander with a little surprise, then his weather-beaten lips stretched into a knowing smile. It seems that Kobrin's idea appealed to him:

- What are you talking about, a tarsh lieutenant colonel ... Well, you can get through, there is a passage there, right along the broken piece of iron, a very suitable ravine goes, and you can fool around too. We would only take a gunner with us. Well, so, for everyone, as they say, a fireman ...

“Think about it, captain. - Sergei lightly squeezed his forearm. - And pick up, just in case, a group of guys more reliable and more experienced.

The captain smiled wryly.

- You offend, comrade brigade commander, we don’t keep unreliable people. The more inexperienced. In our business, without experience and comrades, you will let you down, and you will be the first to go to the next world. Scout - he's like a sapper, he makes a mistake once. I will. Term?

- I do not know yet. Think. All free, captain. Rest.

- Comrade brigade commander, this is - why wait for something? The idea is a good one, the Germans definitely don’t expect anything like that. - The scout did not take his eyes off Kobrin. - We also have the coordinates of the targets, a field depot of fuel and lubricants, and a couple of kilometers to the north - an ammunition point for their entire division. The guys crawled there too. Close, of course, they didn’t get close, so as not to run into, but they neatly brought it onto the map. And our howitzers will not finish Dotudov in any way - unlike the German ones. It's a shame to miss such an opportunity, huh? You can leave them with a few volleys without fuel, and without shells! You just personally give the order and tell the gunners so that when we start working, they don’t fire foolishly at us. And a competent gunner is needed, or even a couple, as I said. It is desirable that they also know a little about captured equipment, but that's just me, I'm asking too much.

Sergei thought for almost a minute, then slowly nodded:

- Welcome, captain, prepare two groups, the main and the reserve. As far as I can see on the map, you will have to shoot from closed position, so you'll need a spotter as well, I'll arrange it. If you seize the battery and deploy the guns, you will report by radio, this will be the signal to start our artillery preparation. Start together, then the Fritz will definitely not immediately figure out who is shooting where. In half an hour - we simply don’t have enough ammunition for much longer - I will send tanks with infantry to attack, since I can’t wait any longer. We'll still agree on a deadline, but if you don't send a signal, our howitzers will start working on your position as well. Then do not blame me.

“So it’s understandable,” the captain nodded understandingly. - There will be a signal, do not even worry. And if we screw up - just iron with land mines to your health, we will have everything the same. So I went to get ready? We don’t need much - we’ll rest for an hour, have a bite to eat - and we can move forward.

- Go, captain. And thanks. It can work out very well with this battery, and the Germans will have a good surprise, and you will help us a lot ...

Looking after the scout, Kobrin thoughtfully frowned. This is how it happens: well, the guys noticed the German battery, reported it. Are there few of them in the front line, like batteries? A different commander would not have paid much attention: he put the coordinates on the map, handed it over to the chief of staff, so that he, in turn, would contact the artillery regiment. Those would have been fucked up when the time came, and did they hit or not? If we get lucky. And so a very interesting thing can come out. You can't win much without gasoline and shells. Now the Fritz are absolutely convinced that nothing threatens their warehouses: Russian howitzers will not finish it off, and the Bolsheviks are in trouble with aviation. And then suddenly ... yes, it turns out interesting, very interesting ...

Outskirts of Smolensk, August 1941

The four-gun howitzer battery located in the lowland was easily taken. You can even say that they took it exemplarily: well, the Germans did not expect such impudence from the Russians, they simply did not expect it! Yes, and how to expect if the position was located deep in the rear, where only Soviet attack aircraft, which have not been seen in the air for a week now, could threaten the artillerymen? Theoretically, they could be covered with artillery fire, the distance, albeit at the limit of the range, allowed, but where did the Bolsheviks get the exact coordinates from? So the battery commander, Hauptmann Krauff, was absolutely calm. They will receive a command, shoot back, and then, if a new order comes, they will be redeployed closer to the front line, where the Soviets are preparing another counterattack, probably just as disastrous as the previous ones. And he saw how their vaunted tanks burned and exploded from the hits of heavy high-explosive "suitcases", he saw. They burn well and explode - as many as the towers fly away for fifty meters!

But the reality turned out to be much more unpredictable. And sad.

Having removed the guards without a single sound - the Germans did not expect an attack, that's why they relaxed, so they managed to take them into knives quietly - the scouts attacked simultaneously in both groups, striking from the flanks. Attached gunners - the brigade commander did not deceive, sending as many as three, two gunners and a spotter - were hidden in the thickets until the end of the attack, away from sin and other stray bullets. Actually, only gunners were sheltered in the bushes, since the spotter, accompanied by two fighters with a walkie-talkie, went his route even deeper to the rear, to a pre-observed high-rise, from where it was possible to assess the accuracy of the fire.

The swift attack did not take much time. Having killed the officers and non-commissioned officers, who were not very successful in trying to organize the defense (most of the Nazis did not even have time to get to the carbines, and the machine gun on the commander's armored car was suppressed by grenades even before he had time to open fire), the Red Army forced the servants, discouraged by such an unexpected change in the situation, to deploy two-ton guns . Which turned out, to the surprise of the commander of the reconnaissance company, Captain Nikiforov, a rather difficult task. And he thought that it would be something like with native regiments: they piled on at once, turned around with a cheerful mother, stuck openers in the ground - and fell as much as they like ...

While the gunners were conjuring with sights, the Germans dragged ammunition closer to the howitzers. None of the hundreds of prisoners even thought of resistance - and what kind of resistance when you have to work under the gunpoint of two machine guns and half a dozen machine guns? Just move and you'll be caught in the crossfire in no time. The scouts, freed from the supervision of the artillerymen, cordoned off the lowland above and hastily dug in, preparing, if the need arose, to hold back the enemy attack until the last cannon shot died down. Or until you run out of ammo in stores and grenades in your belt pouches. Because the scouts were not going to surrender.

But everything was quiet, and Nikiforov, heated up by a short fight, gradually calmed down. Maybe everything will work out; it will turn out as comrade lieutenant colonel planned ... They will shoot back, blow up guns and tractors with trucks, and leave quietly, as they came. The main thing is that there should be a connection, so that the radio operators do not screw up, neither one nor the other. If they don’t send a signal to the brigade commander in time, they will mix them with the ground with their native shells (if they hit, of course, which Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, I remember, had doubts about). Well, and there will be no normal communication with the observer - it is far from a fact that they will already cover their goals. Which, if you think like that, is even more insulting ...

“Oh, it’s a pity after all that Fedka Kobrin disappeared so at the wrong time with his guys! His help would not hurt very much now - an intelligent intelligence officer, very intelligent. When they determined him after the hospital in our reconnaissance battalion, how much joy it was - the shelled commander, went to visit the German more than once, he personally brought five “tongues” alone, - the captain suddenly thought, remembering a comrade who had disappeared during a raid in the German rear. “Well, you shouldn’t bury it in advance, anything can happen in our business, you see, and more men will return, get out ...”

And then the time agreed with the brigade commander came. And the captain, once again looking at his wristwatch and making sure that there was no mistake, that it was time, silently shoved the radio operator in the side, nodding at the radio station. Putting on headphones, he called the subscriber and, having waited for an answer, pronounced the word “morning” three times clearly. After listening to the answer, he turned to the commander and smiled broadly, flashing his snow-white teeth that stood out on his grubby face:

- Confirmed, tarsch captain! We start in five minutes. The countdown has begun.

“Call the spotter,” Nikiforov muttered, slowly rejoicing. Yes, now they won’t be beaten, but this is only half the battle ... perhaps not the most important half.

- There is a connection! - the radio operator rejoiced again. - Everything is fine! They ask that the radio station be closer to the gunners so that they do not run back and forth.

“Otherwise we don’t know,” the captain snorted, which is why he settled down in a small trench not far from the guns, where the German telegraph operator had previously been sitting. - Okay, put your “ears” back on, in three minutes we begin our Polovtsian dances.

- What kind of dances are these? the radio operator asked.

- There was such an opera, about the ancient Russian prince Igor. Have you heard about the opera, Seryozha?

“You’re offending me, commander,” he muttered without much resentment in his voice, fiddling with the setting. - To be true, it was not necessary.

- It's a gain, we'll break the German - you'll go, with your beloved woman under the arm and in patent leather boots. You can also make an ostogram with Georgian cognac in the buffet. Everyone, stop talking, a minute ...

Patiently waiting for the appointed time, Nikiforov got up in a cramped trench and sharply chopped with his hand, giving the order to the soldiers who had temporarily retrained as artillerymen, waiting for the command with trigger cords in their hands. The main part of the prisoners who had finished unloading ammunition had already been driven aside by this time, forcing them to squat down and put their hands behind their heads; they were controlled by both machine gunners. Near the guns there were only carriers and loaders.

But before the roar of the first volley perceptibly hit the ears, the captain managed to hear the rumble of the Soviet artillery preparation that had begun coming from the east. This happens in life: it seems that they didn’t check the clocks, but they started second by second!

Hot sooty shell casings flew to the ground, nostrils caught the sour smell of burnt cordite. Having heated the brass cylinders to the side so as not to get in the way under their feet, the Germans dexterously reloaded the howitzers. The captain smiled wryly, watching the efforts of the Nazis: look how they work, it's a pleasure to look! And after all, they understand, bastards, that guns are hitting their own, they cannot help but understand! Is it really so afraid of death, bargaining for their own life at the cost of someone else's? ..

The radio operator transmitted the corrections, and after a couple of minutes, which took the gunners to make the necessary changes, the battery fired a second volley. And then the third, fourth and fifth, as the spotter requested rapid fire on the last coordinates.

- Well, what is there, Serge? yelled the half-deafened Nikiforov, who until now had no idea that the howitzers were firing so loudly. It's ringing in my ears. Although, of course, if a shell gasps nearby, it comes out even louder ...

“So that's… that's all…” The radio operator, who turned to him, looked somewhat discouraged, but very pleased. - Covered. Transmit to transfer fire to the second target. Yes, out, and from here you can see. Turning his head in the indicated direction, the captain saw black smoke obscuring the far horizon. - The gasoline engine is on fire, captain! How do we them, huh?!

- No distractions! the scout barked, even though he himself wanted to dance for joy. Here you have the Polovtsian dances, guessed it, therefore ...

And he gave the order to the gunner who ran up from the guns.

Ammunition depots were groped for only from the third salvo: almost twice the distance affected. But when the spotter noticed a puff of smoke rising into the sky, illuminated from below by flashes of new explosions, too powerful for a howitzer grenade of any caliber, there was no doubt. Having spent a few more shells on the final sighting, the battery again switched to rapid fire. After four volleys, the revived walkie-talkie transmitted the order to leave - the task was completed.

And here a question arose, over the solution of which Nikiforov tried not to think in advance, superstitiously deciding to complete the task first, and only then ... Now this “later” has come. And now he had to decide what to do with the German gunners. On the one hand, front-line reconnaissance takes prisoners only by order, and today there was no order. But on the other hand ... if there were a dozen of them, even two, he would not doubt for a second. War is such a thing, vile and cruel, there is no time for sentimentality. But more than a hundred snouts ... Reluctance to somehow turn into a firing squad. You can kill them, of course, it's a simple matter, there are machine guns. The soldiers will not argue either, if the order is given. But it’s just reluctant to somehow give such an order, it’s a chore in my soul. Yes, and the words of the political instructor either to the point, or quite the opposite, were remembered when he told about the German proletariat oppressed by the bourgeoisie and deceived by Hitler. They say that the same simple workers and peasants are fighting with you, all things ... however, something is not especially these same proletarians in a hurry to turn their bayonets against the oppressors, well, that’s not what we’re talking about now. And what to do? Do not leave them here - and a couple of days will not pass before they again begin to throw their land mines at our positions.

The decision came unexpectedly. Hearing out of the corner of his ear a phrase thrown by one of the scouts: “Oh, lads, it’s a pity to burn trucks, so much good will be lost. Before the war, on our collective farm, we already had one and a half lorries - while one was driving, the second was under repair, and vice versa, and here there are four whole three-tons. We would have such, if you like, carry grain, you like what else, ”Nikiforov just chuckled. And in fact, what is not the way out? Immerse the Germans in the body - and in a straight line to the front. Any minute the brigade commander will move his tanks forward, such confusion will begin - mother do not worry. It is quite possible to slip through on the sly, there is a good road here, not marked on every map. Some, however, go through the swamp, but the summer was hot, go shallow. The tank will definitely not pass, the armored personnel carrier is also unlikely, but the truck is quite likely, even loaded. And they will get stuck - the Germans will push out on their shoulders, if they want to live. On the other hand, if everything grows together competently, they will not only get to their own with a breeze - here in a straight line at most an hour's journey - but they will also bring prisoners. The main thing is to explain to them thoughtfully that either quietly go into captivity, or - execution, so that they do not experience any special illusions. Look, Antokha Doroshin is nobly spitting in their language, before the war he taught German at a seven-year school, let him do it. Well, you can leave those who disagree right here, there will be enough cartridges.

Um, so, maybe then take the guns with you? Attach, out, to the conveyors - and forward. Ours will really need such a gift, the Germans have good howitzers, and you can always get shells. And comrade brigade commander will appreciate it. After thinking it over, weighing all the pros and cons, for a minute, the captain was forced to admit with a heavy sigh that nothing good would come of it. Tractors will not pass, also with a tool on a trailer, through a swamp, severe pain. At least one of them sits on his belly - and that’s it, they’ve arrived, they’ll have to leave the rest of the transport. No matter how funny, the Germans drag their cannons with horses, as they usually did with light howitzers - it could have happened, but alas ... Because it just so happened that they captured a mobile mechanized battery. Looks like, in fact, the Germans were going to quickly throw guns closer to the front end and hit our tanks, as Comrade Brigade Commander feared. It means that it is doubly pleasant that they got ahead of the bastards, broke their fascist plans ... And the guns? And to hell with them, they themselves have no worse. The main thing is that the Germans could no longer shoot from them.

Having blown up the guns with the explosives they brought with them - TNT was taken with a margin, so that howitzers turned around for glory, now only for remelting - and setting fire to tractors doused with gas oil from spare canisters, the scouts loaded the Nazis into the bodies of trucks and went to the front line. An hour and a half later, smeared with swamp slurry up to the very awnings and roofs of the cabins (several times the cars actually got stuck, and the prisoners had to push them onto solid ground, which made them look even more impressive now), a small column stumbled upon the Soviet forward patrol. There was no shooting, and soon both the scouts and the Germans were at the location of the brigade.

Another tiny episode big war ended successfully for one of the warring parties. This time lucky those who have been defending for the third month already, abundantly pouring blood and sweat, their native land.

And so far no one knew whether this would have any significant impact on the development of the situation at the front as a whole. Maybe yes. And maybe not...

* * *

Lieutenant Colonel Senin's initial plan was generally not bad. But from Kobrin's point of view, he is too straightforward. Plus, the brigade commander knew the future theater exclusively from the map and, more importantly, did not have fresh intelligence. "Stale", however, too. In addition, it lacked, so to speak, creativity and knowledge of how in fact Hitler's commanders are fighting and what can be expected from them. The experience of the war with the heirs of the legendary samurai is great, of course, but now they are not opposed by the Japanese with their light wedges and outdated anti-tank guns, but by the most strong army enslaved Europe. On which this most enslaved Europe, “groaning under the fascist boot,” as the political instructor Arshenich would surely have pathetically expressed, if he were within reach, works with great zeal in more than one shift in the sweat of his brow and tirelessly with callused labor hands.

In short, brigade commander Kobrin changed the plan. Not radically, of course - what can be redrawn when only a few hours are left before the start of the counterattack and the troops are already in position? - and, so to speak, creatively reworked based on new conditions, his own understanding of the situation and, thanks to Captain Nikiforov and his fighters, intelligence. It cannot be said that his decision was accepted by the chief of staff and his comrades with a bang, but here the unquestioned authority of the former Senin played its role - in contrast to the same battalion commander Minaev. So it was lucky, this time there were no waving service weapons and other "unpopular measures". And who would give him a gun to swing? It is by no means the early morning of the twenty-second of June, but even the beginning of August. The year is the same...

The goal of the attack was to immediately take possession of the bridge and the nearby railway station, in front of which the Fritz erected a sort of anti-tank fortified area in a couple of days, since the swampy terrain allowed, and to gain a foothold there, of course, remained the same. As well as the main task: to cut and hold the main highway, along which they will be able to retreat to regroup and replenish their forces, already almost blocked by the Nazis Soviet troops. It was ordered to hold out for no more than a day, a maximum of two, after which fresh forces were to come (in which, frankly, Kobrin did not feel much confidence). Quite a doable task. That's just to shove in the forehead Sergei was not going to.

First, artillery preparation, during which, one would like to hope, the gunners will carry out the anti-tank batteries and near rear areas discovered by the guys from the reconnaissance battalion. Shortly before this, two infantry companies covertly advance through the swamps, quite passable in summer time - after all, August was in the yard, and the summer was hot, with some luck, you can drag mortars and light cannons - and take up a position from the left flank, half a kilometer from the station, where waiting in the wings. The third company is landing on the tanks of the first battalion - “thirty-fours” and “KV”, since the captain was not going to ruin the fighters, putting them on light tins with bulletproof armor.

Then - an imitation of the preparation of a frontal attack by the second and third battalions, which should convince the Nazi observers that the Russians, of course, will trample exactly where it was planned: in a narrow defile between swamps and minefields, leading straight to the bridge. And forward - out of stupidity, of course - they will send their lightly armored high-speed tanks, hoping to crush the enemy with numbers. But instead of a head-on battle with the beginning of artillery preparation, both battalions will suddenly go to the side, making way for more serious tanks, for which German guns in the forehead are practically not dangerous. In fact, they will have to attack from the right flank, from the side of the minefields, from where the Fritz certainly do not expect them. And on board them and “forty-five” “BT” and “twenty-sixths” are enough for their eyes, the main thing is to get closer and shoot more accurately.

Kobrin spent most of his time figuring out how to make passages wide enough in the mine-studded meadow. The sappers will not cope - firstly, they simply will not have time, and secondly, the area is open, visible for a good kilometer. The Germans will notice - they will kill them with machine guns or cover them with mines. Though about mortar batteries Nikiforov did not say anything, Sergei knew perfectly well that the enemy’s goodness was like dirt. And the time to turn around, you need a mere minuscule, a few minutes. Given the distance, they will finish off with fifty-millimeter ones, not to mention more serious calibers. They will also wake up ahead of time, and nobody needs it.

At first, the most suitable opportunity was seen as the opportunity to shoot anti-tank surprises in the offensive zone with mortar fire. If the gunners do not screw up, ensuring the proper density of fire, it is quite possible to organize a "path" twenty to thirty meters wide. Taking into account direct hits, fragments and a shock wave, it is quite realistic to knock out eighty percent of mines. The rest, alas, will work under the tracks, but these are already inevitable losses, without which no battle is possible. Especially the one when you have to storm the positions of the enemy prepared for defense.

But then the memory of Lieutenant Colonel Senin came to the rescue again - the last time Sergey noticed that some of the recipient's memories "manifested" not immediately, but, so to speak, as needed. It turned out that back in the spring, a dozen new-style anti-mine trawls were sent to the division for field tests. When, after the start of the war, tankers were transferred to the front, the trawls gathering dust in the warehouse, of course, were taken with them. At that time, no one really thought about using them for their main purpose, since they were intended exclusively for light tanks. But now the time has suddenly come to test them in combat conditions.

The idea, of course, was quite adventurous - but, on sober reflection, no more impracticable than trying to capture the bridge with a frontal attack, maneuvering tanks between the quagmire and mines. By the way, with regards to these very mines: the scouts who examined the meadow reported that the Germans used not too powerful T.Mi.35 anti-track tellermines, which, when detonated, could break several tracks or damage the road wheel. So there was a serious hope that the trawls would last long enough before they fell into disrepair. Of course, Kobrin did not hope that the battalions would reach the line of attack in full strength: you could not clear all the mines. Yes, and the Fritz sooner or later (and, rather, the first) will understand what's what, having turned part of their "boxes" towards them. But that's what the calculation is - to delay part of their forces, to spray. Both "BT" and "twenty-sixths" are a rather dangerous opponent for the Panzerwaffe of the sample of the summer of forty-one. If you fight skillfully, making the most of the advantage in maneuverability, and the Germans can’t get into the sight, of course.

Kobrin conducted the briefing with tank commanders, from battalion commanders to platoon commanders. Literally within ten minutes. As Vitka Zykin would probably say with a smirk: “You were very emotional and convincing, Stepanych.” Or maybe he wouldn't, who knows?

The essence of the short speech of the brigade commander was reduced to just a few simple rules: do not ask for trouble, do not consider the enemy more stupid than yourself, maneuver as much as possible, shoot only from short stops and it is desirable for sure, not to be a hero in vain; if the chassis is broken, the gun is damaged or a fire starts, leave the car immediately, since the crew is more important than iron. They say that it is more difficult and longer to train an intelligent tanker in the Motherland than to build a new tank. The latter caused the head of the special department to make a short grimace, but he did not interrupt the commander, although he made, as you can see from his face, a notch as a keepsake.

Kobrin instructed the commanders of minesweepers separately, since the success of the attack largely depended on them. The trawls were hung only on the "BT", capable of somehow continuing to move, even rolling out the caterpillar. Company drivers were selected from among those who managed to roll anti-mine pieces of iron around the range in the spring, and Sergey hoped that now everything would turn out just as well for them.

- So, comrade tankers. Move at low speed, do not scour the sides, go around only significant obstacles that can damage the trawl. Your task is to clear a "path" where two tanks can pass. When a mine is triggered, do not slow down, keep moving. If, nevertheless, it breaks the caterpillar, you quickly drop the second one and trawl further on wheels. Do not load caterpillars on the tank, leave them in place, then pick them up. In the event of a serious breakdown of the chassis or, say, the engine, move the car a few meters to the side, giving way to the tank following. If you can't do it yourself, your comrades will help you, push you off the road. Remember, the main thing is not to lose a minute, pace, pace and again pace! The Germans will quickly figure out what's what, so it is important for us to get through the minefields as soon as possible and enter the operational space. Is this clear?

- Yes sir! - the tankers answered in discord, judging by the frown on their faces, they did not feel the slightest optimism about what was ahead of them.

Are you afraid, eagles?

- There is no ...

- But in vain. I would be afraid. Not to shitty, of course, to such an extent the red commander simply does not know how to be afraid, but he would be afraid seriously, - Kobrin grinned, evoking timid surprised smiles on grubby faces. Yeah, didn’t expect this from a strict and laconic division commander? That's good. “Either a fool or a fanatic is not afraid of death at all. And we, the fighters of the Red Army, of course, neither one nor the other. The main thing, comrades, is to learn to control your fear, not allowing it to take over the mind even for a moment, not for a fraction of a moment! You have to be afraid to let down your comrades-in-arms or to die stupidly, laying down your head without any sense! As for those German mines over which you roll your trawls, it’s not for nothing that they are called anti-tracks. The maximum they can do is to break two or three tracks or damage the track roller. Clear? - This time the fighters responded much more coherently, and the faces no longer looked so gloomy. - That's good. Then I finish...

Having finally agreed on the conditional signals, both with flags and rockets - Sergey did not have much hope for airborne radio stations - Kobrin dismissed his subordinates, leaving only the battalion commanders with him. He looked at his wristwatch: why is Nikiforov silent, an infection? We agreed that they would start at his signal. It seems it’s time for reconnaissance to deal with howitzers ...

As if having heard a mental call, a breathless radio operator ran up to the brigade commander, judging by the buttonholes - the commander of a communications company:

- Tarsch lieutenant colonel, let me turn ...

- Get in touch. Short and to the point.

- The reconnaissance group got in touch at the agreed time. They report that everything is in order, ready to start on order.

- Excellent! - Unable to restrain himself, Kobrin slapped the lieutenant on the shoulder, which made him almost fly off his nose with round glasses of a completely civilized appearance. - Radiate Nikiforova to the artillery division, so that they start five minutes after receiving the order. Come on, dear, come on, tanks, get out, they are already tired of waiting, they are beating with a hoof ...

Turning to the frozen battalion commanders, he waved his hand:

- Well, why are you frozen, Slavs? Everyone heard? To the cars, start! The minesweepers start at the same time as the artillerymen, while the Germans will hide from our shells, you see, they clear mines halfway unnoticed. The rest - attack on command ...

Outskirts of Smolensk, August 1941

The gunners did not disappoint, and the howitzers of the artillery battalion diligently plowed the positions of reconnoitered anti-tank batteries with shells. How successful, Kobrin from his NP - or, to put it simply, from the tower of his native “thirty-four”, where he climbed with binoculars in his hands, could not yet judge. But it looked quite reassuring: mighty bushes of explosions rising for a good fifteen meters, covering the entire space in front of the bridge with smoke and dust, fragments of logs thrown high into the air and something else, completely undetectable, shocks of acoustic shock circling in the chest. At some point, he even decided that the bridge was also in ruins, another series of ruptures lay painfully close - but how much does he need? Perhaps even a couple of hits will be enough to bring down the openwork farms or gouge one of the carrying bulls to hell. It worked out, the spotters made the necessary corrections in time, and the division moved the fire into the depths of the enemy defense.

Now 152mm howitzers were pounding at the railway station, smashing brick-and-mortar walls of roofless warehouses, smashing stacks of spare sleepers to pieces, destroying access roads miraculously untouched by German bombs, turning the carcasses of burned-out wagons and cargo platforms into piles of mangled, twisted debris. Due to the decent distance, Kobrin had no idea how effective the shelling was - the Germans did not use the station for its intended purpose, since they themselves bombed back in July. However, in the morning, intelligence detected some suspicious activity on the territory, and therefore included it in the list of targets.

Finally, the roar of the explosions died down (“Exactly thirty-four minutes,” the captain automatically noted the duration of the artillery preparation), and the prospect, covered with a dusty haze, sank into silence. Not for long, however: rumbled, gaining momentum, dozens of engines, and the combat vehicles started off. Never related to armored forces a 100% infantryman, albeit from the distant future, Kobrin even froze for a moment in the tower hatch, fascinated by the power that had set in motion. No, with his mind, he perfectly understood that by the standards of THIS war and against THIS enemy, his incomplete hundred tanks, of which almost seven dozen are light, not so indestructible strength. But here I am in love...

Spitting annoyedly, Sergei tightened the strap of his tank helmet and dived into the semi-darkness of the tower, already almost habitually smelling of salty solar spirit and hot oil. He slammed the hatch: there is nothing to swallow the dust in vain, in ten minutes there will be nothing to breathe without. That's when they reach the Germans, then they will open it. Since he is not so stupid as to go into battle tightly battened down ...

The first to attack was a company of heavy tanks, which Kobrin specially put in the vanguard - if the German anti-tank guns survived at least partially, let them unmask themselves with fire, their “Voroshilov” shells are still not dangerous at almost any distance. That is why the brigade commander forbade taking troops on the KV armor - if they come under fire, the infantrymen will have little chance of surviving. Both companies of "thirty-fours", despite the advantage in speed and maneuverability, moved behind, preparing, if necessary, to overtake slow-moving brothers.

While everything was going - pah-pah over the left shoulder - not bad: the commanders of the second and third battalions reported that the minefields had been passed and they were waiting for a signal to attack. They passed, of course, not without losses. Four minesweepers and almost a dozen light tanks were blown up on the mines: the trawls that performed well were finally out of order even before the end of mine clearance. And the last half a kilometer had to go "live", since the density of installation of anti-track "gifts" closer to the bridge was not so high. The tankers even tried to clear the road with machine gun fire, but quickly became convinced of the low efficiency of such know-how: the disk was enough to neutralize one or two T.Mi.35s from the force, while the third was guaranteed to break the caterpillar. However, from the point of view of Sergei, the losses were not so great - to be honest, he expected the worst. And so in the ranks there were more than fifty “batesheks” and “T-26s”, quite a serious force for an unexpected - let's hope - flank attack. A little earlier, the infantrymen also reported, having successfully crossed the swamp and are now located in the direct line of sight of the station. Their time has not yet come: first, the tankers will capture the bridge, and only then they will strike further with them.

- Grisha, battalion commanders two and three - attack! - Having waited for confirmation that the radiotelegraph operator had heard and understood him, Kobrin opened the hatch and fired a rocket of triple green fire into the zenith, duplicating the order. He leaned out, looking for a company commander among the infantrymen who had stuck around the tank. The fighters had a hard time: for some reason unknown to the captain, the designers of the first modifications of the T-34, even those that were produced in the first months of the war, for some reason did not provide for landing brackets either on the turret or on the hull. It was possible to hold on only by the eyebolts of the tower, the cut of the unsecured hatch, and the towing cables thrown crosswise onto the roof of the engine compartment - Sergey came up with this in time, to the surprise of the crews and the gratitude of the infantry.

- Lieutenant! - Shouting over the roar of the diesel engine, Kobrin yelled, finding the company commander with a look. - When they start hitting us, jump down. Stay behind, take cover behind the hull, remember what I said? We will try not to push too hard and not to break away from you, but you understand, I do not promise anything. If anything - act at your own discretion, most importantly, do not climb under the caterpillar, we can’t see a damn thing from here. Come on, good luck.

And yet, the Nazis, as the captain was once again forced to admit, even after shelling remained a very serious enemy. When I watched from the tower for the explosions of six-inch high-explosive grenades mixing enemy positions with the ground, it seemed that simply no one and nothing would survive here. Although I understood with my mind, of course, that this was not so - an artillery battalion with ammunition for half an hour of firing would simply not physically create the density of fire necessary to completely suppress the defense. If only one MLRS battery from his time had been here, then yes, then his tanks would simply have swept all the way to the bridge on soil baked into glass, raising the weightless ashes of what were enemy soldiers before the explosion of the first volumetric detonating warhead.

And so it happened: when there were no more than a few hundred meters left to the target of the attack, the land, which seemed to be plowed a meter deep, snarled with shots of anti-tank guns and machine guns. Fortunately, quite infrequently. Armor-piercing tracer loudly hit the armor of the Voroshilov going first, throwing out a sheaf of purple sparks and ricocheting. The tank did not even begin to turn the turret - it simply changed the direction of movement and crushed the gun along with the calculation. Either the gunners turned out to be stubborn fanatics, or they simply did not know what a “KV” was, and until the last they seriously hoped to knock him out, but they did not scatter, having managed to fire out again, literally from ten meters. To no avail, of course. In the next instant, it became pointless to run, and the cannon, mounted in a half-buried caponier, swollen from nearby explosions, disappeared with a creak under the wide tracks.

Another "KV" was much less fortunate: from the second or third shot, the Germans managed to break the caterpillar. The driver did not have time to react in time, and the heavy colossus completely “taken off his shoes”, having moved out of the tape rolled out on the ground. Mindful of the instruction of the battalion commander, the tankers foolishly did not climb outside, especially since a machine-gun burst went through the armor. Having deployed the angular turret, the gunner began to steadily nail somewhere to the side, feeling for either a cannon or a machine-gun point. The remaining tanks of the first company, which were not at all affected by the not very dense artillery fire, continued to move, diverging in a narrow arc to the sides and hunting for the surviving anti-tank guns.

“Perhaps it’s time,” Kobrin decided. “Enough of teleporting behind the sluggards. There is one jerk to the bridge, if some dirty trick is not found, we will immediately go home. - And then he swore under his breath: - Everything, your mother, jinxed it. Found…”

One of the heavy tanks suddenly twitched sharply, as if bumping into an invisible barrier, and smoked thickly. “It looks like they hit the engine,” Sergey thought distantly, turning the commander’s periscope covered with an armored cap, “and, alas, they were thrashing from something much more serious than a mallet.” Since the famous "Pak. 40” here and now, by definition, cannot be, which means “thirty-eighth”, caliber fifty meme. As far as I remember, from a distance of less than five hundred meters, it could well be a danger even for the Voroshilov. On board, of course, not on the forehead.

- Grisha, company two and three - the signal "attack, act like me!". Vitya, bypass the Voroshilovs on the right, maneuver! – shouted Kobrin. - Stepan, shrapnel in the barrel, maybe after all a cannon. - Having duplicated the last command with a gesture addressed to the tower, the captain released into the sky new rocket. - Forward! Speed and maneuver!

"Thirty-four" rushed forward, picking up speed. In the panorama, as usual - not so much for him, but for the recipient - the sky and the earth flickered, changing places every second. Equipped with radios, the tanks of the company commanders repeated the maneuver, accelerating and bypassing the low-speed KVs; the remaining two dozen T-34s, having noticed the company and platoon signal given by the flags, were reorganized for a frontal attack. From the armor, having correctly caught the moment, the landing force poured in peas.

Another "Voroshilov" froze on the spot - this time Kobrin did not notice the smoke, and the chassis seemed to be intact. Knocked out? Or did the driver not manage to stick the transmission and safely stalled? It seems that everything is the first: one of the “thirty-fours” of the second company, without slowing down and rounding a frozen comrade, does not have time to drive even a dozen meters, when an armor-piercing projectile is stuck into its side. A short reconciliation of the hit - and the tower jumps in place, thrown up by the shock wave of the exploding ammunition. In the next moment, the tank moving by inertia - none of the crew is already alive - is engulfed in a hot flame of diesel fuel from the torn internal tanks.

What kind of cannon do they have so magical ?! Less than half a minute - two tanks in the red? Or is she not alone? Well, the Fritz would not have had time to reload and aim, they didn’t have time! Precisely, not alone: on the very edge of the left flank, another “thirty-four” flares up, which certainly could not have been knocked out by a single anti-tank gun. Unless, of course, it is capable of turning one hundred and eighty fucking degrees in a matter of seconds! And reload like an anti-aircraft gun!

Bdz-z-zyn!

Something is hitting the side of the turret with all its foolishness, and Sergey simultaneously hears this deafening ringing and feels a short vibration of the metal that has taken the blow. There was no penetration, the blank went tangentially, leaving a deep, glowing mark on the armor. Of course, he does not see anything like this, but the subconscious mind obligingly shows him the corresponding picture. A tiny fragment, knocked out from the inner surface of the armor, burns painfully on the cheek, the second bites into the rubber forehead of the sight. The skin immediately becomes hot and ticklish, a warm stream flows down, gathering under the side flap of the tank helmet. S-bitch!

- Vitya, turn to the left by a third of the hull and full throttle! - yells Kobrin, duplicating the command with a kick of the boot.

“Easy, commander,” Tsygankov hisses angrily, at the last moment swallowing the matyug ready to escape. - I can hear it. Nearly missed the head.

The tank turns, literally jumping forward. And then Sergei finally notices a long-barreled cannon hidden in a caponier. Well, yes, that's right, in the place of the Fritz, he would have placed it there. And not just one, but the whole, motherfucking, battery. To beat those who broke through the Pak. 35/36" Russian panzers on board. Judging by the position pitted with fresh craters, the Soviet gunners did not miss, only they did not manage to destroy all four anti-tank guns. What did the brigade cost two heavy tanks ... But the burned "thirty-fours" did not seem to be her work.

Having stuck to the sight - a fragment stuck in the rubber digs into the forehead, but it doesn't matter anymore, you can endure it - Kobrin directs the gun.

- Short!

The tank slows down, powerfully rocking back and forth. Nausea sets in for a moment, but there is no time to pay attention to such trifles. Sergey is fiddling with the fine-aiming handwheels, knowing for sure from somewhere that the Nazi gunner noticed the maneuver of the Russian panzer that changed the direction of movement and is now doing the same. Finally, the aiming mark freezes on the rickety shield of the gun, and the captain presses on the descent pedal.

Boom! - the tank is rocking again, but much weaker. The recoil throws the breech back, clanging on the reflector, the spent cartridge case flies into the bag. The pungent smell of burnt cordite hits my nostrils. Baschner pulls a new unitary out of the clamps. Explosion! Yes, got it! A crumpled, shrapnel-torn shield flies off somewhere to the side; crowned with a mushroom of a two-chamber flame arrester, the barrel describes an arc, freezing almost vertically. The caponier is filled with dust and smoke, you can’t really see anything, but Sergey already understands that no one survived from the servants. Without waiting for the command, understanding what was happening, Tsygankov moves the combat vehicle from its place, moving like a snake.

So, okay, we figured out the gun. But what kind of bitch from the left flank is hitting?! And where, you ask, are our lungs, their motherfucking tanks? What are they slowing down? Missed an order? Nonsense, how can you miss it if the attack has been in full swing for several minutes? Such a movement is not only visible from a kilometer - it is visible from orbit. Kobrin twirls the periscope, pressing his bloody forehead into the rubber, - it would be necessary to pull out a fragment, but there is no time.

Yeah, they finally started: the second and third battalions begin the attack, stretching out on a wide front. Fast-moving BTs are ahead, followed by the twenty-sixths. They hit with high-explosive fragmentation from short stops, which is why the German positions are slowly covered in smoke and dust. The shells, of course, are by no means of howitzer caliber, approximately correspond to a fifty-millimeter mortar, but with a similar density of fire - sheer shelling.

For obvious reasons, Kobrin does not hear the sound of the explosion, but he perfectly sees the result: one of the “batesheks” going in the first wave of the attack demolishes the tower. An oval piece of iron flops up with a shoulder strap a few meters away, and the combat vehicle turns into a tall fiery torch: gasoline is not diesel fuel, it flares up from one spark. Literally another ten seconds - and already three tanks are on fire. No, it's already four… B-bitch! Where are you, where are you?!

Yes, in fact, that's where ... noticing a suspicious movement with peripheral vision, Sergey turns up the panorama. Well, of course, as he feared. And intelligence, of course, successfully missed them. The Fritz know how to disguise themselves, I must admit. A squat, angular self-propelled gun leisurely crawls backwards from a caponier covered with a masknet; two dozen meters away - two more. The first StuG-III stops, and a few seconds later the short "butt" of the 75-millimeter cannon is enveloped in a flash of a shot that cost the brigade another light tank. Well, yes, a cigarette butt is a cigarette butt, but any light tank will take it in the forehead even from the maximum distance. With due luck, the “thirty-four” can be knocked out, of course, which the panzermans proved. But the "KV" of the short-barreled "KwK 37 L / 24" is definitely too tough either in the frontal or in the lateral projection. She even from a hundred meters - by the standards of a tank battle, consider point-blank - armor penetration is less than forty millimeters. Is that cumulative, although also far from a fact.

Other tanks of the battalion also notice the danger - and the self-propelled gun closest to the bridge explodes, having received two blanks on board at once. Hatches knocked out by the shock wave take off; the conning tower opens with a surrealistic bud of armor plates turned outward: they slapped it straight into the ammunition rack. The second self-propelled guns break the chassis - Sergey sees how the caterpillar crawls, twisting in front of the rollers like a bizarre snake, and the doomed "Shtuga" freezes in place. Boom! A smoky plume rises above the squat, angular hull. There is no explosion, but no one climbs outside either. All won back.

Who laid to rest the third "Sturmgeshütz », throwing out a column of black smoke into the morning sky, Kobrin no longer saw, returning to the command of the tank. But they burned the self-propelled gun quickly, and a minute had not passed - the superiority in strength was too great. The road to the bridge was cleared.

They passed the line of German trenches on the move, stopping only to suppress the noticed machine-gun nests, reinforced with sleepers and rails. A couple of minutes later, the infantry, which had caught up with the tanks that had escaped ahead, poured into the trenches. The Nazis, demoralized by shelling and tank attacks, nevertheless resisted fiercely, but they had no chance to stand in hand-to-hand combat against the Red Army comrades, heated by battle and death. The light tanks that completed the flank maneuver were the first to reach the bridge, sweeping away the last line of defense with fire - several machine-gun points reinforced with sandbags and stacks of sleepers.

Having estimated the disposition, Kobrin left the second battalion, which suffered the greatest losses from the StuG fire, to guard the crossing and clean up the captured positions, and the third, along with the remaining KVs and all the thirty-fours, turned towards the station. Now the main thing is not to slow down, not to let the Fritz come to their senses. The station, even if it was bombed at least three times, must be taken from a swoop, otherwise it doesn’t have the same “suspicious activity” marked by intelligence from the head. Yes, and it’s time for the Fritz tanks to appear - it’s somehow hard to believe that they had only three self-propelled guns. I mean, I don't believe it at all. Where to hide them? That's right, only there, since there are enough places among the ruins for a good regiment ... Well, let's say, about the regiment, he had enough, but a couple of tank companies - quite. Again, if the Germans still call for air support, it’s better to mix with the enemy, it’s unlikely that the “lappers” will iron their own ...

For a moment, an obsessive feeling of deja vu pricked unpleasantly in his chest: after all, something like this had already happened in his life! But where and when? “On Terra-3, where else?” – helpfully prompted the memory, and Sergei hastily blinked a couple of times, chasing away the memories that had risen before his inner eye at the wrong time. Well, yes, of course. A suburban industrial sector plowed up by strikes from attack aircraft, the ruins of warehouses, loading and unloading terminals and some buildings - and his company, going on the attack with the support of five tanks. Three of which are destroyed along with the crews in the very first minutes of the battle. And circling in the sky "Mi-50KA" fire support.

It looks like it's very similar. That's just the roles, by the will of fate and the leadership of the Simulator, have changed, and now he is not an infantryman, but quite the contrary, a tanker. And the planes, if they arrive, will hunt exclusively for his fighters ...

Outskirts of Smolensk, railway station N, August 1941

Kobrin was the first to send "KV" again with a landing on armor - heavy tanks, despite two destroyed vehicles (he did not record a tank with a torn "mallet" caterpillar as a loss, the crew will cope with repairs in a maximum of half an hour), have proven themselves more than well. It was hoped that the enemy no longer had the cursed "Panzerabwehrkanone 38". The turret guns of German tanks and self-propelled guns, as the attack showed, are practically not dangerous to them: unless they break the caterpillar again or hit them with a hundred cumulative meters. But you still need to get close to such a distance; and it’s not at all a fact that the Fritz have these same Gr.38s that can burn through up to seven centimeters of armor. Following, covering the "Voroshilovs" from the flanks, but not yet breaking forward, went both companies of medium tanks, also with an assault force.

Light tanks entered the territory of the station covered in smoke in two groups, the third company along the destroyed railway tracks, the first and second from the side of the city. According to the plan of the battalion commander, in any case, high-speed tanks will get ahead of the "boxes" of the first battalion and, breaking in from two opposite directions, will encircle the enemy, if such is found. And in general, “BT” and “twenty-sixth” are easier to maneuver between the ruins than medium or heavy tanks. Their armor, of course, is awful, and the chassis can be destroyed with a simple bunch of several fragmentation grenades, but this is already a problem of infantry cover - it was not for nothing that Kobrin gave them a whole company from among those who crossed the swamp before the attack. The guys got wet while they were walking through the quagmire, so let them warm up.

At the heights dominating the station, which, with some stretch, could be called a couple of gently sloping hills, rugged by rain gullies and overgrown with thin bushes on top, there were only mortarmen and crews of three “forty-five”, which managed to be dragged through the bog. Either they drowned one cannon completely, or they failed to pull it out by hand when it got seriously stuck, - Kobrin did not go into details, not before. The artillerymen's ammunition, however, was the size of a gulkin's nose, only what was carried on their shoulders, but ten minutes of battle would be enough. Not so much to seriously support a tank attack, but to show the enemy that some kind of fire support Russians also have...

However, not a single shot was fired at the tanks until the very station. And the captain, frowning his bloodied forehead for a minute, ordered the thirty-fours to go ahead. Still, speed is now more important than armor. Yes, and heavy tanks have not gone away, they just fell a little behind. There will be a need - they will let it go forward again.

Crumpled metal screeched under the tracks, and the tank tumbled heavily over the frame of a burned-out lorry that had frozen across the road. The “thirty-four” of the commander of the second company, going to the right, without slowing down, immediately pushed aside an ambulance bus, which was reddened from fire, lying on its side. The armored car swayed again and sank down, flattening into a pancake the body of the passenger "emka", crumpled by a close explosion. The door, stuck in the undercarriage, creaked along the fender and disappeared under the tracks, which slammed it into the ground, black from the burning.

As far as Sergei understood, when the Germans started one of the bombings, a whole column of vehicles had accumulated at the exit from the station - trucks, many with anti-tank guns on a trailer, buses with the wounded, a few cars, horse-drawn vehicles. Which "Goering's chicks" gladly covered with bombs. Someone left, loaded with ammunition or army property, someone, on the contrary, was carrying evacuees to the echelons. And now Soviet tanks had to make their way through this terrible black-and-red mess of burnt, torn metal.

Kobrin tried not to think about the fact that the ambulances, like some of the trucks, must have been chock-full of wounded. Well, at least the panorama located on the roof of the tower simply did not allow to see small details... However, after several hours of gasoline blazing here, spilled from torn up tanks - there they are, they are still standing on the tracks, and there will be no fifty meters - no special details simply could remain. Everything burned down to ashes, to black fire-dried firebrands, no longer resembling people ...

Notes

Mikheev, Anatoly Nikolayevich, Commissar of State Security of the 3rd rank, from February to September 1941 - head of the 3rd Directorate of the NPO of the USSR (special departments). He died heroically in action on September 12, 1941.

* * *

Special thanks to Boris Kaminsky (Sinitsyn).

Thank you very much, friends!

The author considers it his duty to remind that the events described in the book are partly fictional and may not coincide with the events of real history. The characters of the novel and the names of some geographical objects are also fictitious, and the author does not bear any responsibility for any coincidences. The names of some Red Army commanders have been changed or made up.

Prologue

Terra-3, far future, a year before the events described

The shutters of the weapon compartments retracted into the hull, and the sides of both "fifty kopecks" lit up with flashes of upper stages of launching missiles. Smoky trails rushed towards the enemy fortified point located half a kilometer away, and the prospect was clouded with a smoky-dusty haze pierced by flashes of fire. The blast wave carried out the remnants of windows, tore off the roofs and scattered the fences near the abandoned industrial buildings that were on the strike director; crushed the squat hangars assembled from metal-plastic panels. In the next instant, the dusty tsunami rushed back, driving the debris and debris raised by the explosion into the empty boxes of warehouses and administrative buildings. In full accordance with the laws of physics, the air sought to occupy an area of low pressure, in which oxygen burned out in thousandths of a second: two dozen rockets fired were equipped with volumetric detonating warheads.

Touching the sensor, Sergey activated the command channel:

Something almost indistinguishable in the radio headset - it seems that somewhere the enemy EW complex was still working, clogging the radio with interference, the commander of the tank platoon muttered, and the squat carcasses of the armored vehicles, turning off the masking fields, took off. Just in case, Kobrin glanced at the data displayed on the helmet’s visor: no, there’s nothing to worry about, their suppressor is weak, not more powerful than the second class, jamming only radio communications, and even then no further than a kilometer. Well, to hell with it, you can do without it. That's all, forward, to the fortified area destroyed by the airstrike, only five hundred meters, not only to run - you can crawl.

Having once again shot back, the "boxes" moved forward - and here the surviving defenders of the strong point showed themselves. Kobrin did not notice exactly where they were shooting from, but around one of the tanks moving in the forefront, a triggered force shield suddenly flared up, taking on the impact energy, but the power of the enemy ammunition turned out to be higher, and the combat vehicle stopped abruptly. The mark on the tablet changed color to yellow, blinked, and turned red. Everything, the crew died, although the tank did not catch fire, apparently, the fire extinguishing system worked. That's just to help the tankers it could not do anything ...

The aiming mark on the brightened visor locked onto the target, and the captain, turning the barrel, fired a short burst from an assault rifle, the processor of which was directly interfaced with the central FCS chip of his helmet. The weapon briefly vibrated in the hands - the compensator of the regular AK-700 caseless dampened the recoil by more than 80% - and the enemy, twitching convulsively several times, fell over on his back, dropping the plasma gun that had not been cocked. Ready, you don’t have to check: no individual armor can withstand hits from 10-mm special cartridges! Actually, out, and the mark on the display turned red - the "orbit" confirmed the defeat of the target.

Having cut off with a burst of another militant who jumped out into the open after his comrade, Kobrin changed his position. Just in time: the skeleton of an overturned loader behind him swelled like a fiery bud, breaking into two halves bursting with heat. The rubber tires of the wheels blazed hotly, the electric motor exploded, scattering sparks. Not far away, there was another deafening explosion, forcing the damper system of the helmet to work: either the tank fired, or the tank was hit, causing the ammunition to detonate.

The fighters of the company, hiding among the ruins, also entered the battle - there was enough enemy, booming shots of assault "seven hundred" rumbled from all sides, hissed almost soundlessly, spitting out a charge, plasma rifles, and the feathered arrows of the electromagnetic weapon, breaking the sound barrier, clapped sharply. How cute! Judging by the markings on the tactical tablet, there were slightly fewer enemies than attackers. So it's still an ambush. It looks like the guys from the special department will have something to do - a kind of notch in the memory for the future - let them break their smart heads where there are so many enemy soldiers. And, most importantly, how did they go unnoticed by the sensors of the orbital reconnaissance vehicle! Did you sit in shelters? So, after all, scanners penetrate a dozen meters deep, and reconnaissance never spares power, simultaneously burning all unshielded electronics to the enemy! Very strange, you know...

“Zero,” came the breathless voice of Platoon Two, Lieutenant Dubrovin, in the headset. The connection turned out to be surprisingly good, apparently, the tankers still managed to kill the enemy "Glushak" - here is the Second, I am three to seven to the left. They squeezed us, they have an anti-aircraft spark at direct fire here, they can’t raise their heads. They took cover behind the foundation of a broken warehouse, but the concrete would not last long, they were hit with plasma. I have two "three hundredths", one "two hundredths". I drop the data packet, let the “box” go around from the flank, there should be a passage. Reception?

“Got you, for a second. - The captain assessed the situation, making sure that there would be no help from the tankers: both armored vehicles that had retained mobility, biting off the fire of turret guns, hastily retreated, not risking further delving into the labyrinth of destroyed buildings. Judging by the data received online, both of them had only active-reactive armor left from the external protection, and the ammunition was halved - well, of course, with such and such an intensity of fire! Your mother!

- Second, the "boxes" will not come, we will pull you out ourselves, hold out for a couple more minutes. Do not leave the connection. How did you receive it?

- Accepted, we are waiting.

- First - to Zero, did you hear everything? Grab the infopack. Move out, meet at the seven mark. We will strike at the same time, then immediately retreat to the original one, the “boxes” will be covered with fire. Leave the wounded, pick up on the way back. Reception?

- First received, we start on the signal.

- Third - Zero, move away. Together with the tankers, meet us in the "zero" square, do not poke your head for help, call the evacuators for the "300th". First, all numbers go ahead!

They reached the group, squeezed by fire, with a fight for almost five minutes instead of the promised two: apparently, the enemy cracked the cryptoprotection of the communication channel and knew perfectly well where they were and what they were going to do. Here's another job for fellow kontrikov: how did it happen if the codes changed three times a day?

Oddly enough, almost no shots were fired in the back: the enemy, making sure that the assault groups had stopped advancing forward, disappeared into the ruins. It seems that the insurgents realized that the federals would not climb further into the trap and retreat, and received an order from unknown commanders to leave. Sergey grinned wickedly: and here are the little bastards, now he will pull the guys out - and there will be a big surprise for you. Very big.

Having reached the place, they hit from the flanks simultaneously with the group of the Third ... or rather, they tried to hit. Since the plasma installation that squeezed the fighters of the second group turned out to be installed in a stationary concrete caponier, surrounded by a double-circuit power protection, which in some unknown way did not fall under an airstrike. Yes, and there was infantry cover, no less than a dozen snouts, armed no worse than the infantrymen themselves. So it didn't get close.

Hiding among the ruins, they blasted the enemy from grenade launchers with assault grenades. They thrashed them quite successfully - from the very first salvo they tore the shielded cables of the power circuit to such and such an insurgent mother, after which the position turned out to be practically defenseless. Unfortunately, only practically: several electromagnetic machine guns hit Kobrin's "numbers" that rushed into the attack, and I had to lie down again - at such a distance, the armor sets did not hold the tungsten arrows overclocked to several sound ones.

After consulting the updated data packet transmitted by the "orbit", the captain swore without restraint. It looks like they can’t get through, you can’t go to machine guns with your chest, it’s not the 20th century in the yard. All hope is for the First, there is a chance that such a heated meeting is not prepared on his part. But people in any case will put a lot. Although ... there is an option. An idiotic, of course, option, commanding him, if he returns alive, he will blow up to the very tomatoes for such a thing. But how else to pull out the boys?

– Air-1, answer Cobra.

- In touch, - the pilot of one of the "fifty kopecks" immediately responded.

Do you see the situation?

- Yes sir. Only I can not help, you are in the affected area. Clamped group too. Call the "Lancet", they will work out pointwise.

“No time,” cut Kobrin. “They only need ten minutes for the pre-flight and the same amount for the descent from orbit. Not an option. Listen, Air, I don’t have the right to order you, but I sincerely ask you: can you go over their heads a couple of times? At supersonic and maximum gravity? And then, as we pull the guys out and move away, you will gouge everything into rubble.

- Fooled, infantry?! - the pilot was sincerely surprised, expecting to hear anything, but not this. - You're only a hundred and a half meters horizontally?! What if we miss? They will smear you into minced meat!

- It's not ten. And why would you miss, no one canceled the aiming and navigation system. Take the package, the transfer has begun.

“Well, you give…” the pilot drawled respectfully. - Definitely a psycho. Okay, pull your people back as far as you can, thirty seconds. Cut the defense to the maximum and open your mouths. And this, swallow, or something, more often, at least a little equalize the pressure. Or yell louder. Twenty-five seconds to attack.

The flyers worked beautifully. When the silhouettes of the descending stormtroopers rushed towards the ground, leaving behind whitish sheets of compressed air, Sergey caught himself thinking that perhaps all this would actually turn out to be a stupid and dangerous idea. If only because no one had done anything like this before. But it was too late to change anything. For the first time, it hit the ears when the Mi-50 crossed the sound barrier at a height of a hundred meters. Almost immediately, the eardrums habitually pressed in and a disgusting vibration vibrated in my chest. I wanted to press myself into the ground, becoming very tiny and very, very flat, but Kobrin did not lower his heavy head, forcing himself to watch what was happening. If he has planned this madness, you need to at least see it through to the end. And somehow it’s even uncomfortable in front of the flyers ... and their boys, who are now no better.

At the last moment, the anti-aircraft gun crew realized what was happening and tried to deploy the installation, but they were sorely lacking time. Sprawling shadows of sonic stormtroopers rushing at a speed of five passed, stretching luxurious tails of swirling dust behind them, at a height of twenty meters above the enemy position. His ears hurt badly, and Sergey, who had almost lost his hearing, swallowed convulsively, like a swimmer plunging under water. The air wave tore off the roofs from nearby buildings, and the gravitational impact instantly crushed the sheets of roofing metal-plastic that had rushed after the "fifty kopecks" into ridiculous clods. Caught up by a man-made tornado, the bodies of anti-aircraft gunners flew into the air, immediately turning into scarlet clouds of crushed tissue. The plasma installation torn off the bed turned over. And in the next moment, a dusty wave covered the position.

The aircraft turned almost on the spot - only anti-g suits and anti-gravity compensators built into pilot seats saved the pilots from the monstrous multi-vector overload - and rushed in the opposite direction, right through the dusty-smoky tornado rising above the target. This time, the Mi-50s went even lower, finally mixing with the ground both the position and the ruins in which the militants who were covering the anti-aircraft guns were hiding. More precisely, not mixing, but rolling it out, as if an invisible road roller had walked along the ground.

Having gained altitude, the senior combat pair called the captain:

- Cobra, alive?

“Alright, Air, thanks. They worked great. We're leaving, watch the marks. How will we get out, since ... everything is here for such and such a mother! - Sergei hastily licked the blood running from his nose from his upper lip. His ears were also suspiciously warm and humid, but he did not completely lose his hearing, which means that the membranes survived.

- Welcome, infantry, - after hesitating, the pilot added in violation of all conceivable and unimaginable rules of radio communication: - Well, you are crazy, captain! If there were more of these, you see, there would already be a world. It is interesting to fight with you. Okay, look, let's get to know each other. Leave quickly, now we will strike, and after the bombers will come, Orbita said. Communication disconnect.

“Hang up…” muttered Kobrin, gradually coming to his senses. - All numbers, Zero here. Report losses. We retreat to the starting point, immediately. Ten seconds.

The stormtroopers struck when a battered company, carrying the dead and wounded with them, got out of the industrial zone, which almost became the grave for a good half of the foot soldiers. Helping the doctors to load the "300th" into the tow trucks, Sergei turned around. A fiery-smoky cloud, shaken by the blows of new and new explosions, rose above the ruins. And from the skies, rapidly increasing in size, four multipurpose front-line bombers approached the target: the command decided not to risk the lives of the fighters anymore, having previously rolled the recalcitrant fortified area into a pancake along with the adjacent urban areas, since the civilian population, by agreement of the parties, was evacuated even before the start landings...

On the same day, the assault company was taken to the rear, and the head of counterintelligence called Captain Kobrin. Sergei suspected that he might very well have to part with one or even two small stars on shoulder straps (and stop dreaming about one, but a big one, to which he had only a couple of years of service), but everything turned out quite differently. After listening to the report, Colonel Dronov offered to sit down (Serega obediently sank on the edge of his chair), walked around the office with his hands behind his back and, stopping opposite the straight line, as if the captain had swallowed a sword, said:

- Well, what, hero? So, he came up with a new method of dealing with a ground enemy? Probably, you will also patent?

- That's right ... that is, sorry, no way ... guilty ... - the captain hesitated, not immediately realizing that the interlocutor was joking.

But did you save people? By the way, you have, I'll whisper in confidence, the lowest losses in this fucking operation. But those who developed it are already testifying in my department, like that. Freaks, their mother! Fucking strategists! Tactics made with a finger! OK. The Colonel suddenly calmed down as he made another circle around the office. Not understanding what the special officer was driving at, Sergei was prudently silent.

“All right,” Dronov repeated, again stopping in front of the officer. - To hell with you. Your actions are recognized, albeit extremely dangerous for personnel but justified and expedient in this particular situation. Most importantly, save people. But don't do that again.

- No, I won't! - beaming, the captain jumped up, but the heavy hand of the counterintelligence officer fell on his shoulder, forcing him to sink into place.

But you will have to be punished. And it hurts a lot of stars on your shoulder straps. Such a damn genius and three pieces for the eyes is enough.

“That’s why you’re going to the High Academy.” ground forces, - the colonel grinned, perfectly understanding the state of Kobrin. – And just try to come back without three stars on your shoulders! The documents have already been signed and endorsed, the accompanying file has been sent to Earth. You have a day to hand over the cases and say goodbye to your subordinates. Free.

- Comrade Colonel! Sergei gasped, jumping to his feet. - Thanks! But why me?

The head of the special department gave him an unexpectedly mocking look:

- Why? Well, let's just say, for the originality of thinking and all that. No one has yet thought of using the KA class assault gravitic gun as a ground weapon. By the way, they called from the headquarters of the air group, they are very interested in getting to know you personally. I refused, there is no time. And, by the way, do not thank ahead of time, it is still not known which is better - here with four small stars or there with three large ones. Responsibility, you see, is quite different. And not only responsibility.

“But…” the captain drawled uncertainly.

The special officer gave him another look, this time gloomy:

“Then you will understand. If you stay alive. That's it, I'm free, I don't delay anymore. At the reception, get a prescription and an information crystal with a personal file.

- Yes, - realizing that the conversation is over and he will achieve nothing more, Kobrin clearly turned around over his left shoulder.

And as he closed the door behind him, he heard:

- Good luck, captain. I hope I didn't misunderstand you...

Oleg Tarugin

Combat. Get out of the "cauldron"!

The author expresses his deep gratitude for the help in writing the novel to all the regular participants of the forum "In the whirlwind of times" (forum. amahrov. ru). Special thanks to Boris Kaminsky (Sinitsyn). Thank you very much, friends!

The author considers it his duty to remind that the events described in the book are partly fictional and may not coincide with the events of real history. The characters of the novel and the names of some geographical objects are also fictitious, and the author does not bear any responsibility for any coincidences. The names of some Red Army commanders have been changed or made up.

Terra 3, far future,

a year before the events described

A pair of "Mi-50KA" air cover passed, it seemed, over the very head - inaudible blows of gravitational engines echoed in the chest with an unpleasant vibration, as if twisting the body from the inside. In fact, there was no less than fifty meters left before the shock gravity aircraft of the "space-atmosphere" class - if they went down even lower, the soldiers of the assault company of the 42nd motorized infantry regiment, pressing into the soil of an alien planet, would have had a very bad time. However, nothing like this could happen: the pilots knew perfectly well who was under them. The identification system gave out corresponding marks on the visors of pilot helmets, highlighting their own with green light, and the enemy with red. If the combat vehicles were below the permissible height, the on-board computer would issue an appropriate warning, forcibly switching to autopilot and not allowing the "land" to be smeared on the surface of the rebellious planet.

The shutters of the weapon compartments retracted into the hull, and the sides of both "fifty kopecks" lit up with flashes of upper stages of launching missiles. Smoky trails rushed towards the enemy fortified point located half a kilometer away, and the prospect was clouded with a smoky-dusty haze pierced by flashes of fire. The blast wave carried out the remnants of windows, tore off the roofs and scattered the fences near the abandoned industrial buildings that were on the strike director; crushed the squat hangars assembled from metal-plastic panels. In the next instant, the dusty tsunami rushed back, driving the debris and debris raised by the explosion into the empty boxes of warehouses and administrative buildings. In full accordance with the laws of physics, the air sought to occupy an area of low pressure, in which oxygen burned out in thousandths of a second: two dozen rockets fired were equipped with volumetric detonating warheads.

The Fifties parted ways, turning around. The eardrums were again unpleasantly depressed: even the semi-hermetic helmet of the third-class assault kit could not save from the gravitational wave. But the company commander, Captain Kobrin, no longer paid any attention to such trifles: a pictogram allowing the attack was displayed on the commander's tablet. The markers marking the enemy turned red and orange at once, less than a dozen of the latter, and Sergei grinned wickedly. The flyers did an excellent job, since out of almost a hundred snouts, only a dozen wounded remained! And this is from the first run! Of course, someone probably managed to hide in shielded underground shelters, and therefore the identification system on board the reconnaissance aircraft hanging in low orbit does not yet see them, but there simply cannot be many survivors physically - isn’t the battalion settled here? Yes, and the flyers have not gone anywhere - they have gained altitude and loitering over the area, preparing, if something happens, to come to the rescue again. They have enough ammunition for the second salvo. But when the assault company enters the suburbs, there will no longer be any sense from air support: inside the warhead of even the smartest “intelligent” missile there is the usual stupid explosives, for which it’s all the same whether it’s your own or that of others ...

Touching the sensor, Sergey activated the command channel:

All numbers - an attack according to the "village" scheme. Separate, let the armor pass forward. "Boxes", meet in the "three" square, fire at your discretion. Even, keep flanks. Inprotection - in the maximum mode, do not save batteries. Ready? Started!

Something almost indistinguishable in the radio headset - it seems that somewhere the enemy electronic warfare complex was still working, clogging the radio with interference, the commander of a tank platoon muttered, and the squat carcasses of armored vehicles, turning off the masking fields, took off. Just in case, Kobrin glanced at the data displayed on the helmet’s visor: no, there’s nothing to worry about, their suppressor is weak, not more powerful than the second class, jamming only radio communications, and even then no further than a kilometer. Well, to hell with it, you can do without it. That's all, forward, to the fortified area destroyed by the airstrike, only five hundred meters, not only to run - you can crawl.

Having once again fired back, the "boxes" moved forward - and here the surviving defenders of the strong point showed themselves. Kobrin did not notice exactly where they were shooting from, but around one of the tanks moving in the forefront, a triggered force shield suddenly flared up, taking on the impact energy, but the power of the enemy ammunition turned out to be higher, and the combat vehicle stopped abruptly. The mark on the tablet changed color to yellow, blinked, and turned red. Everything, the crew died, although the tank did not catch fire, apparently, the fire extinguishing system worked. That's just to help the tankers it could not do anything ...

There was a short flash nearby, scattering debris and dust to the sides, a wave of hot air slammed the captain into the mangled frame of the loader. The light filters of the helmet instantly darkened, protecting his eyes from the flash, but Seryoga still involuntarily closed his eyes. External sensors howled, showing a critical increase in temperature and a drop in the protection level of the armor set by 40%. Wow, a little more - and it would be fried inside, as if in a microwave oven! Plasma blasted, bitches, did not spare the charge, as if he were a tank! Who is this smart guy? And, there's someone - an insurgent who got out of the ruins in almost the same armored suit as Kobrin threw aside the used tube of a disposable plasma gun and pulled a new one from the grips of the outer frame. Well, no, fuck you!

Oleg Vitalievich Tarugin

Combat. Get out of the "cauldron"!

* * *

Special thanks to Boris Kaminsky (Sinitsyn).

Thank you very much, friends!

The author considers it his duty to remind that the events described in the book are partly fictional and may not coincide with the events of real history. The characters of the novel and the names of some geographical objects are also fictitious, and the author does not bear any responsibility for any coincidences. The names of some Red Army commanders have been changed or made up.

Terra-3, far future, a year before the events described

The shutters of the weapon compartments retracted into the hull, and the sides of both "fifty kopecks" lit up with flashes of upper stages of launching missiles. Smoky trails rushed towards the enemy fortified point located half a kilometer away, and the prospect was clouded with a smoky-dusty haze pierced by flashes of fire. The blast wave carried out the remnants of windows, tore off the roofs and scattered the fences near the abandoned industrial buildings that were on the strike director; crushed the squat hangars assembled from metal-plastic panels. In the next instant, the dusty tsunami rushed back, driving the debris and debris raised by the explosion into the empty boxes of warehouses and administrative buildings. In full accordance with the laws of physics, the air sought to occupy an area of low pressure, in which oxygen burned out in thousandths of a second: two dozen rockets fired were equipped with volumetric detonating warheads.

Touching the sensor, Sergey activated the command channel:

Having once again shot back, the "boxes" moved forward - and here the surviving defenders of the strong point showed themselves. Kobrin did not notice exactly where they were shooting from, but around one of the tanks moving in the forefront, a triggered force shield suddenly flared up, taking on the impact energy, but the power of the enemy ammunition turned out to be higher, and the combat vehicle stopped abruptly. The mark on the tablet changed color to yellow, blinked, and turned red. Everything, the crew died, although the tank did not catch fire, apparently, the fire extinguishing system worked. That's just to help the tankers it could not do anything ...