"Comrade Commander, I've seen them with my own eyes. I went forward to straighten out the traffic. The motorized rifle regiment's trains were backing up from the south, blocking all movement to the west—an impossible situation. I'm responsible for the movement of traffic on this 174
route. I went to see what was happening. The motorized riflemen are hanging on by their fingernails. It must be an entire German division counterattacking."
Shilko rolled his fading cigarette in his mouth, pondering the map. It was clear to him that the local terrain would not support an enemy division in the attack. And, allowing for the commandant officer's natural exaggeration, this was probably more a matter of a reinforced battalion, perhaps leading a brigade-sized attack. But the enemy division would be spread out over multiple routes, if, indeed, there was an enemy division. In any case, there was a road running through a forested area.
Any attacker would be backed up down that road. The terrain was extremely restrictive. In greater depth, there were several small towns that would also restrict any movement.
Shilko didn't trust the major's precision when it came to the current locations of the enemy. But it was clear to Shilko that the enemy, in some size, was definitely out there somewhere. Shilko took a decision.
Moving with determination now, he climbed out of his vehicle and rousted Captain Romilinsky. He ordered the fire direction center prepared for hasty action. The batteries were to come to a high state of readiness and await their missions. Romilinsky snapped to the task.
Meanwhile, Shilko set to work on the hood of a vehicle, plotting fires by the light of a pocket lamp. He figured that, if he shot the long, straight stretch of road through the forest just south of where the major claimed the enemy were advancing, he would range safely beyond the forward Soviet positions, except for any that were cut off—and that couldn't be helped. The road would provide the likeliest concentration of enemy targets, and if he could strike everything behind the enemy's leading combat troops, those troops could be forced to a standstill. At the very least, if you jammed up the road, you slowed down the enemy counterattack. Shilko was rapidly becoming an expert on the criticality of roads in modern war—especially in the northern extreme of the Germanies. Now his instincts told him he had a good target.
Shilko's staff moved like a farmer's family, well-accustomed to fitting their chores together, making everything come out right. Shilko ordered the guns to elevate their barrels before pivoting into firing positions in order to avoid smashing one of the long tubes into the trees that lined the roadway. The heavy barrels elevated like elephant trunks, ready to snort fire upon command. Sleepy-eyed officers shook themselves awake and leaned over their survey equipment, doing their best in the darkness.
Shilko doubted that his boys had been paying very close attention to their maps during the march, since every man was weary and willing to simply follow the leader. Paternally, Shilko hinted to them where they were presently located.
Lieutenants and sergeants shouted instructions and waved tiny signal lamps as the big guns aligned themselves in the constricted space. The tracks bit into the surface of the road, and the vehicle engines growled as if in bad temper at being disturbed in the middle of the night. Each noise, each lurching movement, attested to the power of the guns, even before a single round went skyward. The guns reminded Shilko of great, barely manageable animals.
Captain Romilinsky approached. "The first battery is prepared to accept its fire mission, Comrade Commander."
Shilko nodded. He took Romilinsky by the arm, heading for the fire-direction track.
"Comrade Commander, shouldn't we at least call the division and inform them that we're firing a hasty mission?"
Shilko chuckled. For all of his marvelous staff skills, Romilinsky clearly did not understand how to make the system work when the situation was critical.
"You're thinking like a Prussian," Shilko said with a smile for the younger man. "Look around you. Personally, I haven't recognized a passing unit for hours. I don't know where division is located, and if I did, I wouldn't waste the time to attempt to get a mission cleared under these circumstances. You might as well try to get an apartment in Moscow on an hour's notice."
"But there could be complications."
Shilko liked Romilinsky. The captain was a terrifically serious young man, always painfully sincere and concerned. Shilko expected him to be an excellent battalion commander in his own right someday, if he didn't disappear entirely into the swift current of the General Staff officer program.
"Hesitation . . . the reluctance to take responsibility . . . is something of a Russian disease," Shilko said. "I have never suffered from it myself.