After Action Report: An improbable desert match-up as the Finns try to take on an IS-3 and IS-2
Mission Parameters: 10 OD Maximum, 50%+ of force must be Veteran. Victory by Kill Points, with Bonus for killing officers in CC. Soviets (GK) vs Finns (Xnox), in Meeting Engagement.
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Dawn broke over the desert, the long shadows of the palms shading the small Finnish observer team hidden at the edge of the oasis. Their bulky winter gear had been not unsuitable for the coldness of the desert night, but they cursed what cruel fates had brought them here as they prepared to once again face the burning hot of the sun they were so ill-prepared for. But reports were that the Soviets were out there, somewhere, and so must they be here as well.
From somewhere to the east, the whine of tank engines began to reach them, but they could do nothing other than shield their eyes from the harsh sun just breaking the horizon. The radioman keyed his mic, reaching out to the sniper team quietly waiting in ambush on the roof of building in the small village to their south to ask if they had a visual. He waited a moment, and then the static broke.
“Two ta-“
The message wasn’t even complete though when it was drowned out by the explosive sound of the 122mm gun. The observation team barely even registered the barrel flash, blended in with the low-lying sun, as they were vaporized an instant later. An instant later, another explosive percussion split the air as a portion of the building collapsed under the sniper team. Pekka pushed himself up in the rubble, barely cognizant of Ville’s mangled body caught in the rubble, but through the haze able to see a small squad of Soviet Guards rushing up in support of the IS-2 and IS-3. He was able to get off one quick, half-aimed shot, only to see it nip harmlessly at their feet before he too was cut down in the hail of fire from their DP-27s.
Over the next dune, the Luutnantti Vuotunki barked at the radio for a report on what the distant noises were, but without answer. While he knew his small force was ill-equipped for what sounded like a small armored force, he couldn’t let the critical desert crossroads fall into their hands, so quickly sent in what forces he could muster and sent out a desperate plea for more reinforcements as he rushed forward to the village directing his heavy-weapons platoon to the flanks, and while Luutnantti Hämäläinen and the Sissis – with their precious panzerfausts – to use the buildings and palms as cover as they maneuvered close enough for their one chance at the Soviet armor.
As he neared the first oasis though, two more percussions reached Vuotunki, even at this distance enough to leave his ears ringing. To his left, he could see the smoking crater that had moments before been the mortar squad, while to his right, he could see the MMG team in tatters, two crewmen lying dead, but the final at least able to return some ineffective fire at the Guards before they finished off what the IS-3 had been unable to, although the Sissis quickly returned the favor, cutting down one of the Guards, peeking out from the corner of the building they had taken cover behind to take an ill-advised look at their handywork moments prior. Looking back, Vuotunki could see the truck, with its cadre of well-armed veterans, stuck in some loose sand. It would be several more minutes before they arrived, but he was buoyed as the radio crackled to life, Hämäläinen’s radioman reporting that despite their skis, the Kaukopartio had made good time in their flanking maneuver, arriving to the southern flank of the Soviet force with good cover for their approach.
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“You are free to advance and fire at targets of opportunity” Hovhannisyan heard over his headset, eager to take advantage of the free reign granted by Commander Shevchenko
“Loader, another HE!” yelled out Hovhannisyan as he kicked at the drivers head again to push the IS-2 forward. The sweltering interior of a tank was uncomfortable even on the bitter Finnish frontier, but it had been only a few minutes of combat, and the desert sun had the entire crew cooking like a tin of tushonka. As the tank rolled forward, he could see a small clump of Finns rushing across to his right, possibly an officer team, and quickly fired only to miss wildly. Reloading, and continuing to maneuver forward, the officer and his aids franticly evaded while the larger squad of Sissis darted across the front of the tank, but a good distance off. He knew that Shevchenko in the IS-3 would have a clear shot at them as well, while the bow gun opened fire ineffectively, he wheeled the main gun onto the officers. A chance to decapitate the Finnish platoon was too good to pass up, but he was soon disappointed to see that in their haste to fire on the move, the round went sailing over, harmlessly exploding against the dune behind the target.
Hovhannisyan’s disappointment was only compounded moments later when he saw Shevchenko’s tank had missed its target as well, although it had at least been enough to force the Sissis to hit the dirt, at least briefly. The disappointment soon grew to concern as he looked through the cupola to see a truck rushing up, and disgorging a large squad of fierce looking men, clearly hell-bent on taking his tank, even if it meant with their bare hands. He would need assistance, and quickly, to keep them from swarming around him.
“Ivanov, where the fuck are you!? You are supposed to be on the right!” He bellowed into the radio, only to be met with silence. Once on the battlefield, he knew Ivanov’s small scout squad was unmatched, man-for-man, but that Russian bastard had of course been up drinking all night, and his skill was only equaled by his complete unreliability when drunk – which was far too often.
KABOOM. His thoughts were broken by an explosion just to his rear, enough to shake the tank. He looked around wildly, seeking out the Finnish tank that had barely missed him only for Shevchenko to burst onto the radio.
“Sarkis, it look like you needed hand! I have your back, bratik.”
Looking to the rear, he could see remnants of the Finnish squad, now halved and dazed.
“Bozi tġa!” he thought silently.
Thankful as he might be, he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of this for weeks, getting his ass saved by the cocky Ukrainian. His own gun finally re-loaded, he rotated the turret and fired, only for the 122mm to… do nothing. A misfire… Now he really wouldn’t be hearing the end of this. The bow and rear machine guns chattered, finally scoring hits on the Sissis and dropping one of the officer's aides, but it was small consolation to such a poor showing. As the remnants of Finnish squad made their feeble attempts to force a hatch, Hovhannisyan brooded over the bottle of vodka he would need to somehow acquire to give Shevchenko, nearly oblivious to the Finnish truck zipping behind his tank and firing over it at the Guards squad bracing behind the building to his left.
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Vuotunki knew things were getting desperate. He had managed to get to the shelter of the next building but was still shaken by the near miss by the IS-2, sure he could have reached out and touched the shell as it flew by. He was quite glad to be out of its sights now. Last he had seen there, the assault squad had held steady despite their grim losses, but done little to hamper its operation, and now they were taking fire from a small squad of Soviet Scouts just come into range, although they were surely drunk given how poorly they were shooting. He watched the Sissis continue to move forward and poor fire into the Guards squad sheltered behind a building. Incongruously skiing over the desert sands, the SMGs of the Kaukopartio joined in the hail of bullets, although it was hampered by the undergrowth of the small cluster of palms they were now crossing. Vuotunki was frustrated to see the Guards continue to survive the sheer avalanche of fire, only one of their number falling, although he was pleased to see they at least were now pinned down in their position, too fearful to even snap off a single return shot.
Time was ticking away though, and it was the final decision point. Now in visual range, Vuotunki and Hämäläinen hastily gestured at each other, but it as clear that only one chance existed, as Hämäläinen ordered the Sissis forward in the vain hope that perhaps their panzerfausts could blunt the Soviet spearhead, but both flew off harmlessly, clearly out of range. Two more massive explosions again ripped across the battlefield, deafening everyone. As the Kaukopartio rushed forward, hoping to finish off the Guards, half their number simply disappeared as the IS-3s massive HE shell burst in their midst, but they would not be dissuaded from their course of action, although even at point blank range the Guards remained as stubborn as eve, four of their number managing to remain and return rather ineffective fire. Vuotunki himself finally joined in the shooting gallery, cutting down one more Guard, but knowing it would do little to turn the tide as he saw the SMG squad in the distance again take critical damage from the IS-2, but he could be nothing less than impressed by the courage – something he knew only Finns possessed - of the remaining two as they valiantly kept fighting, exchanging fire with the drunken Russian scouts, who continued to miss everything, and now apparently the lone Russian officer, cowardly waiting until the last minutes of the battle to show up and claim a victory to which he had contributed nothing but one potshot that caromed off a nearby palm tree.
The radio crackled to life again, and although half-garbled by static, Lt. Vuotunki could make out enough of the message from HQ to know that no more reinforcements were coming, and any further losses here today would gain nothing. It was time to fall back and cede the village. The day was lost.
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“Shevchenko! They are falling back! Should we pursue?” Hovhannisyan unkeyed his mic, and waited for a reply, coming that his commander would unleash him for the pursuit. It had been a good morning, and after watching the panzerfausts fizzle out well in the distance, he felt confident they could finish off this small force with ease.
“Nyet, Nyet. This was surely advance force, we not know what over that dune, Sarkis. We might be lucky now, Alikhan’s squad is chewed up, and you know Ivanov not be sober for hours still! Their AT might even slow me up briefly without infantry support. Patience, bratik. You can die for motherland tomorrow."
