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Monday, October 19th 2020, 10:34pm

Aha, I see "the Variag" has entered the equation. It's a good thing we don't have any Manchurian troops!


Tuesday, October 20th 2020, 4:18am

Aha, I see "the Variag" has entered the equation. It's a good thing we don't have any Manchurian troops!

Be thankful he only has a dozen Spetsnaz. Imagine the havoc if the entirety of the 35th Rifles was at his back...


Tuesday, October 20th 2020, 7:03pm

Operation Concert (6)

Advanced Base Ship Coronel, Gulf of Parnu, Wednesday, 2 November 1949

Officially Vize-admiral August Becker was merely an observer for this exercise – command of Einzatzgruppe 71.3 was vested in Konteradmiral Arthur Hoffmann – but every man on the Coronel’s bridge was aware of the Becker’s close interest in progress of the landings. The flow of reports form units ashore and from the ships gathered in the bay flowed into the ship’s operationszentrale where they were translated into maps, charts, and coherent reports.

These confirmed that progress thus far was good. The first waves of troops were ashore and moving inland; the major opposition thus far came from the boggy terrain and the limited road net, which kept even marching riflemen to the few metalled tracks. The village of Rootsiküla had been secured, and on the beach below the village the construction troops had finished securing the pontoon causeways over which supplies and heavy equipment could be brought in.

Hoffmann approached. “Herr Admiral, the Wettin and the Wittelsbach have reached their anchorages and begun deployment of their amphibious lorries.”

“Excellent!” Becker checked the timeclock on the bulkhead. “Ahead of schedule – are there any reports of opposition?” That the exercise postulated no opposing troops did not mean to Becker that their allies might throw a spanner into the works.

“Not yet Herr Admiral.”


Thursday, October 22nd 2020, 3:12am

Operation Concert (7)

Vicinity of Reiu, Wednesday, 2 November 1949

Reaching the road to the village of Reiu was not the end of the problems that would confront the leading elements of the 153rd Naval Infantry Brigade. The road – or more correctly a narrow forest track, was barely wide enough for a single infantry carrier, while the accompanying T-45 tanks kept knocking into trees, slowing their progress as well as the pace of any vehicle behind them. Worse yet, in the haste to reach their objectives two columns of vehicles now found themselves face to face at a junction of paths with those in charge disinclined to yield.

“My tanks are supposed to be leading the way to Parnu you buffoons! Get out of our way!” Sergeant Arseny Mironov of the 153rd Brigade Independent Tank Squadron screamed from the hatch of his tank’s turret.”

Sergeant Mikhail Devyatayev of the brigade’s 3rd Battalion, wasn’t ready to yield a centimetre. “My lads can walk to Parnu faster than you can drive there, and not knock down a tree every five meters!”

Their argument had grown quite heated, and loud. It had even attracted an audience. Vereshchagin turned to the trio of troops behind him and whispered. “I think that these fellow need some guidance. Follow me.” With that he stepped out from the forest’s undergrowth into the clearing half-filled with troops and vehicles.

“What is going on here!” The two sergeants turned in his direction and noted the single silver star on Vereshchagin’s collar tabs. Their verbal argument cooled quickly. “Who is the senior officer here?”

A sheepish Mironov explained that his company commander was stuck six vehicles down the column behind several trees brought down by a collision with trees. Devyatayev’s explanation was even more embarrassing – his company commander had been lost in the forest, his whereabouts unknown.

Vereshchagin shook his head. “Sergeant, back your tank up and let these foot-soldiers advance. The main road to Parnu is half a kilometre ahead – let them secure it and then you can advance together. It’s well marked. The T-45 Grom clanked out of the way, and the infantry began to move up. “Sergeant Jahhimovits – take charge of traffic control here until brigade staff gets someone out here.” One of the troopers with Vereshchagin nodded, slung his rifle, and began to direct traffic like a country policeman.

The accompanying referee desperately tried to keep a straight face at the audacity of the Spetsnaz officer. The road in question would not take them further than Reiu, the road to Parnu being further inland. He also knew that the 3rd Battalion’s officer was not lost – but had been captured by Vereshchagin’s men and was now a ‘prisoner’.

For his part Vereshchagin and the rest of his men filtered back into the forest to see what other delays they might impose.


Friday, October 23rd 2020, 1:10am

Operation Concert (8)

Rootsiküla, Sanglaid Island, Wednesday, 2 November 1949

Oberst Friedrich von Mellenthin had established his headquarters in the village hall, having first obtained permission from the rector of the parish council. His lead elements were marching northward along the road to the village of Lemsi, and he expected that it would be secured before noon. At the moment his biggest headaches were the marshy ground that kept his troops confined to established tracks and the slow pace at which his construction troops were laying down the Sommerfeld tracking that would keep vehicles from bogging down as the worked their way off the beach.

Captain Yevgeny Pepelyaev, who with a dozen Spetsnaz troops had been assigned the task to ‘defend’ the island sat in the door of a hut across from the village hall – observing the German headquarters with interest. He wore civilian clothing – he doubted very much that if caught the Germans would shoot him as a spy – and carefully noted their progress. Unlike his superior, Vereshchagin, on the mainland, the terrain on Sanglaid was too small and too open for him to play fun-and-games in the daylight. Better to wait and observe, prepared to take advantage of the darkness that would come soon enough.

“Herr Oberst, Commander Bataillon 308 reports that he has reached the Linaküla road cut-off”

Von Mellenthin checked the map – Linaküla was on the far side of the island, approachable via a decent – for Sanglaid – road that wound its way through one of the thicker patches of forest.

“Continue advance towards Lemsi in support of Bataillon 307.” He would order his reserve, Bataillon 309, to secure Linaküla and then move on Sääreküla, site of the island’s incomplete airstrip.


Sunday, October 25th 2020, 2:05am

Operation Concert (9)

Large Landing Craft Stepan Novikov, Gulf of Parnu, Wednesday, 2 November 1949

With the majority of the 153rd Brigade ashore Captain First Rank Korotayev’s responsibilities devolved to assuring that the follow-on waves of naval infantry reached the Red Beach 2 in the order requested by General Shokalsky, and coordinating the efforts of the naval support group under Captain Second Rank Pavel Alexandrov. While progress ashore was being made the reports reaching the Stepan Novikov indicated that the naval infantry had run into a series of minor setbacks that delayed – but did not stop – their advance.

Across the bay it appeared that their German allies had secured their primary objective of the village of Rootsiküla while their advance element were about to enter the village of Lemsi, home to the island’s fishing fleet and jumping off point for Phase Two of the exercise. He would have liked to observe the German landing operations for himself but had been forced by circumstances to nominate one of his staff officers to act as liaison and official observer. He trusted that Senior Lieutenant Perov would be thorough and insightful.


Vasily Perov had sailed into Pernau Bay aboard the German headquarters-ship Coronel, but had gone ashore with the third wave of troops. He noted with interest the floating pontoon piers the Germans had laid out into deeper water, which hastened the landing of equipment and supplies. He looked with envy on the large amphibious ships that were the centre of what seemed an endless shuttle of bolshoi avtomobil vodoplavayushchiy – which delivered troops and supplies straight to growing supply dumps. He had managed a five-minute conversation with Oberleutnant zur See Lassen – the officer the Germans referred to as Die Strandmeister – before Lassen abruptly ordered him off ‘his’ beach and went back to ordering the next wave of vehicles coming ashore.

In contrast to his own experiences in amphibious operations, Perov was struck by the deliberateness of the Germans. One would think that they were planning to stay; admittedly, Sanglaid was to serve as a base for second phase of the exercise, but why bring ashore – and set up – antiaircraft artillery? Nothing in the outline of the exercise called for air opposition – indeed, the air was filled with La-9 fighters playing the role of air cover.

Perov found he could catch a lift into the village of Rootsiküla having learned that the German headquarters was located there.


Yesterday, 12:40am

Operation Concert (10)

Raeküla, Pernau, Wednesday, 2 November 1949

The village of Raeküla was little more than a collection of cottages that bordered the junction of several trackways, but it was the objective of the 153rd Naval Infantry Brigade – one that should have been in their hands several hours ago. However, the difficulties of negotiating their vehicles through the forest, discovering that their maps did not match the road signs that sent the advance elements to the four winds, and unexpected road blocks had cost the brigade several hours and the loss of a number of officers and men – taken by ‘ghosts’ that seemed able to move invisibly through the thick mass of trees. But they had reached the road that led to the junction of the river Reiu and Parnu, at which point the brigade was to secure a crossing of the latter.

The column of infantry carriers picked up speed as the trees thinned by the road side. It was little more than two kilometres to the river where the accompanying pioneers would begin to construct a bridge. Suddenly the lead vehicle came to an abrupt halt. A sign ahead read “Preduprezhdeniye - vperedi miny” – Danger – landmines ahead.

Sergeant Mikhail Devyatayev swore. “Is this someone’s idea of a joke?” He noted that a pair of referees had walked up alongside his infantry carrier.

“What is the problem Sergeant?”

“Another ‘fallen tree’. You are taking delight in slowing us down.”

“Not us Sergeant. We merely observe and score,” said the first. The second added “right now you are delaying yourself.”

Muttering an imprecation Devyatayev ordered his driver to advance.

In the undergrowth Vereshchagin and several of his men watched exchange and checked their equipment, waiting for the column to advance. He smiled as it did so – and allowed the leading TB-42s to get out of the ‘kill zone’. When he saw the first piece of bridging equipment come into view he signalled an emphatic ‘chop’ to his men.

The trip flares rose angrily into the sky, playing the role of improvised explosive devices, and brought the column again to a halt. The referees went back to their clip-boards, made notes, then marked several vehicles as ‘damaged’, one as ‘destroyed’, and about fourteen pioneers as ‘dead’ or ‘wounded’.

Vereshchagin estimated that the advance of the naval infantry had been dealt at least an hour’s delay – ad they would pay more attention to the signs his men had liberally posted. It would be dark before they reached the Parnu.


Today, 11:19pm

Operation Concert (11)

Lemsi, Sanglaid Island, Wednesday, 2 November 1949

It was mid-afternoon when von Mellenthin arrived in Lemsi with his tactical headquarters. On the whole he was pleased with the progress for the day. The fishing port of Lemsi had been secured by Bataillon 307 and already marinefährprahm were landing supplies for the brigade’s continued advance. Perov had attached himself to the German commander and already had made many mental notes for his report to Captain Korotayev.

“Colonel, will you continue your advance today?” Perov estimated that there was little more than two hours of light left.

Von Mellenthin checked the situation map before answering. “Bataillon 309 should secure Linaküla before nightfall, and while I had planned to have it secure Sääreküla tomorrow, Bataillon 308 will continue its advance and secure it, now that Lemsi is in our hands.” Sanglaid was such a small island that units were rarely out of touch with their supports.

Perov wondered how thing might have been different had the island been contested. At least the Germans had had the forethought to secure their beachhead. The map showed Sicherungs-Abteilung 202, together with the construction troops, deployed across the southern portion of the island.

Perov translated in his mind – “Security Detachment”… “Colonel, these security troops – surely you do not contemplate issues with the civilian population?”

The German shook his head. “A better translation might be ‘Defence Detachment. Antiaircraft artillery to protect against air raids, coast-artillery to project against counter-invasion – though they have been left behind for this exercise. A small infantry detachment, primarily to guard the supply dumps. You will forgive me if I do not put it past your fellow-citizens to pilfer whatever might be left lying about.” Perov had to admit that it was not beyond the Estonian peasantry to steal anything they might get their hands on.

Suddenly the radio crackled to life. Bataillon 309 had run into a road block outside of Linaküla and had incurred some casualties and damage to vehicles. The exercise had ceased to be just a walk in the sun.