Battlefield Korea

Counter-Attack

It had been a rough couple of weeks for the men of Alpha Troop. Their troop had been separated from the rest of their regiment during the retreat from the Kiev line, and nearly the entire regiment remained trapped in the city. Their unit had tried to hold off a much larger Russian force to keep the lines of retreat open, but they were unsuccessful in preventing the Russians from fully encircling the NATO Forces. Since their long retreat, they had been consolidated with the 35^th Armored Regiment, a sister unit in their Brigade Combat Team.

When they heard their old unit had busted out of Kiev, they had thought they might fold back in with them. However, the leadership had determined that this group was too badly mauled and would not be combat effective for some time. They were going to be moved to Germany to regroup and reequip, which meant Sergeant Duke’s ragtag unit was going to stay put with the 35^th.

Lieutenant Colonel Tim Webb’s 35^th Armored Regiment had not seen any combat yet, but was itching for a fight. They gladly welcomed Sergeant Dukes’ ten tanks; his tankers had seen the Elephant, and had fought the vaunted T-14 Armatas and survived. His officers and NCOs had been picking their brains on a near daily basis for details on how the T-14s fought and how the Russian armor units attacked, trying to gain as much information from them as possible. They had proven to be a wealth of information.

LTC Webb walked over to Sergeant First Class Joe Dukes, who was just hopping out of his tank near the ammunition point to top off their stores before the coming battle. Webb signaled for him to join him and his Command Sergeant Major (CSM).

Sergeant First Class Joe Dukes (or “JD” as his friends called him), saw his new battalion commander wave for him to come over. “The Sergeant Major is with him too-I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing,” he thought.

JD tapped his gunner on the shoulder. “Hey, I need you to get the tank topped off with fuel and ammunition while I go talk to the Battalion CG for a minute.”

The gunner just nodded and said, “Good luck.” He was too exhausted to say much else.

JD walked up to the officers without saluting since they were not far from the front lines and separatist militia units had been sniping at NATO soldiers on and off for the past week. “Sir, how can I be of assistance?” he asked innocently enough.

Smiling for the first time in days, LTC Webb replied, “Sergeant Dukes, I’ve talked with several of the NCOs and soldiers in your troop, and I’ve also talked with a few of the other units that have worked with your unit since the start of the war. A British Captain from the 20^th Armored Infantry Brigade said your troop was responsible for most of their unit being able to escape from Kiev. He told me that without your troop, most of their brigade would have been trapped in the city.”

JD was surprised by what he was hearing. From his perspective, he was just doing his job-trying to keep his men alive and help as many others as he could during the retreat. He saw his CSM was smiling from ear to ear as the colonel kept talking.

LTC Webb continued, “We’ve received nothing but glowing praise for your gallantry and ability to lead while under heavy enemy fire. I wanted to be the first to let you know the Division Commander is awarding you the Distinguished Service Cross and a Purple Heart for that gash on the side of your head.”

He held up a hand before JD could reply, adding, “I know you are going to say you were just doing your job, but I want to tell you something, Sergeant. You went far and above your job. You helped save several thousand soldiers from being trapped in Kiev, and blunted a Russian motorized division from completely encircling our forces. The Command Sergeant Major, the British Captain and I have all written a letter to the SACEUR to have your medal upgraded to the Medal of Honor. I’m not sure when or if that will happen, but we’ll let you know if it gets upgraded. You can bet there are a lot of people pushing for it.”

“Um… I don’t even know what to say, Sir,” JD said humbly. “It wasn’t just me out there… I would like my men to be recognized as well. They all earned it, and it was a team effort. I couldn’t have done it without them.”

The CSM jumped in at this point. “Everyone in your troop is being awarded Bronze Stars with V Devices for Valor. You can choose eight soldiers to receive the Silver Star-and don’t worry, Captain Lillith, your Troop Commander, is being awarded the Silver Star posthumously as well.”

They could see JD was a little bewildered at the news they had just shared with him, but wanted to assure him he had done a great job, and more importantly, let him know that his troop’s actions were becoming a rallying cry for the rest of the division.

The Colonel had one other piece of good news to add. “I’ve also received permission from the Division Commander to give you an official battlefield promotion to 1^st Lieutenant. You are going to take over as the Alpha Troop Commander, effective immediately,” Webb said with a genuine smile on his face.

This was one of the rare and more gratifying moments he had experienced as a commander, to let one of his soldiers know that he was being publicly recognized for a heroic act and being given a battlefield promotion. They needed more leaders and heroes like him, especially since the Army was about to triple in size. The Sergeant Major was also smiling as he reached out and took JD’s hand and shook it hard.

“I couldn’t be prouder of one of my NCOs… you earned this Dukes,” said the CSM. “Now, we only have a day before your unit needs to move forward to the front, so I need you to figure out who else is going to get those Silver Stars. I also need a list of those who were injured since the start of the conflict, along with the details of when, where, and how those injuries occurred so we can go ahead and get those Purple Hearts taken care of.”

“Uh, Ok-I mean, yes Sir,” JD replied.

“You’re going to be an Officer now. You need to make sure that you are properly recognizing your soldiers in addition to taking care of their needs,” the CSM explained, wanting to make sure JD knew his responsibilities were going to change now that he was going to transition from being an NCO to an officer.

As the impromptu meeting ended, JD walked back to his tank, a bit surprised and still in shock at what he had been told. He couldn’t be more happy and excited, yet he also felt a bit ashamed that he had survived and would be awarded these prestigious medals, when so many others had died saving his own life and those of his men. “How many aircraft were shot down providing air support for my men? How many infantrymen died defending my tank from enemy missile teams?” he thought.

His gunner, Sergeant Jay Smokes (a.k.a. “Smokey”) saw him approach. “How’d the meeting go? Anything we need to know about?” he asked.

JD snorted. “Yeah, a few things Smokey,” he replied as he reached up and grabbed something to help him climb back on his tank. He saw the other two guys from his crew look up at him, waiting for him to finish his explanation.

“First, I’m being promoted to 1^st Lieutenant, and officially taking over as the Alpha Troop Commander,” he said nonchalantly.

Several men nearby let out a hoot and a couple shouted, “Congrats!”

Ignoring the fanfare, Dukes went on. “Second, they said everyone in the troop is being awarded a Bronze Star, and I have to pick eight individuals to receive a Silver Star. I also need to get a tally on who all was injured since the start of the war and collect all the details so that I can get that information over to the CSM for their Purple Hearts. Apparently, before we kick off this next assault, they want to get decorations in order,” he finished as the guys started to smile.

“The Army and its paperwork does not care about when an attack was going to start. It wants its t’s crossed and its i’s dotted,” thought JD, laughing to himself.

Dukes cleared his throat as he got back to business. “I need to go talk with the other tank commanders and have them start working on the CSM’s request. In the meantime, we need to get the tanks ready. It looks like this new offensive is going to start soon, so be ready to move,” he announced.

The soldiers around him started back to work, and he stepped down from the tank to go find another tank commander. As he watched his guys scurrying around, he thought about the change in responsibilities. “They are going to have to handle a lot more of the tank duties; I’ve got ten tanks and crews that I’m now officially in charge of,” he realized.

After a series of “hurry up and wait” announcements, two days had passed. Then, all of a sudden, the offensive finally started.

JD’s tank began to slowly move through a farm field towards a tree line, where his troop would form up with another tank battalion. They were going to act as a mobile reserve for the coming attack. Once the Germans and British units broke through the Russian lines, the Americans would rush a full battalion of tanks and mechanized infantry through the breach, followed quickly by the French division that had just arrived in country. The overall objective of the offensive was to break through the Russian lines and push them back to the Dnieper River.

As their tank came to a halt at the edge of a cornfield, they could hear the hum of aircraft flying low overhead towards the Russian lines. The Air Force was working the Russian lines over before the main attack started. JD and Smokey were sitting in the turret, getting their crew served weapons loaded and ready. The order to move forward would probably come shortly after the main attack started, and they wanted to be ready.

Looking off in the distance, they could see several large explosions as the attacking aircraft delivered a series of bombs. Then, a tremendous amount of tracer fire leaped up from the ground, heading in the direction of the attacking aircraft. Judging by the clatter of the machine guns and the volume of tracer fire being thrown at the fighters, the Russians must have had some anti-aircraft vehicles equipped with 25mm or 30mm chain guns. It sounded like hundreds of sheets of fabric were being ripped apart, over and over.

As they watched the tracer fire, they saw nearly a dozen missiles streak from the frontlines for the aircraft as well. An A-10 took a direct hit from a missile, and one of its engines exploded in a spectacular fashion. The aircraft began to leave a trail of black smoke as it turned towards friendly lines, somehow still able to stay aloft. A pair of F-16s did not appear to be so lucky; both aircraft were hit by one of the dozens of SAMs being fired at them, and burst into enormous fireballs that rained debris and aviation fuel across the ground below.

“It looks like the Air Force is laying it on thick,” Smokey said with a whistle. “They are hammering the Russians.” As he finished speaking, he secured the ammunition box next to his weapon, pulling the charging handle back as he made sure he had a belt properly fed into the machine gun.

“Yeah, they are, but they also look like they are taking some losses. You see that A-10 limping away,” replied JD as he surveyed the sky. Additional air battles continued well above them. In the distance, they could also hear helicopters bringing their own fire and brimstone on the Russians.

The radio came alive with chatter as the ground battle started. The crew listened in for nearly an hour, wondering if they would receive the call to exploit a breakthrough, but it never came. Then, out of nowhere, they heard the unmistakable sound of incoming rockets shrieking through the sky towards them. Without needing to be told, the tanks around them began to button up their turrets. No one wanted to be caught outside their tank during an artillery barrage.

Explosions rocked the area around their tanks. Pieces of shrapnel could be heard hitting their armor as the ground shook from each explosion. Suddenly, the radio sputtered to life and JD’s battalion commander gave them their final instructions. “Alpha Troop, move your tanks to grids 975 457 and support the German assault. The Russians are moving additional units forward, so be on the lookout for a possible flanking attack.”

“Finally, we are being moved forward to attack,” JD thought to himself as they moved forward, out of the artillery barrage.

Lieutenant Dukes passed the orders down to the rest of his new command as he ordered his own tank forward. He could see by the looks of the faces around him that the men around him felt the same way he did-it was time to get some payback.

As his tank moved across the original frontline, he could see dozens of destroyed German Marder infantry fighting vehicles and Leopard Tanks, intermixed with Russian T-80 and T-90 tanks and dozens of armored troop carriers. The field they were traveling through had become a burning cemetery of armored vehicles and charred bodies.

“I see the Germans, 5,000 yards to our front LT,” declared Sergeant Smokes as he began to scan the area for enemy tanks. As they approached the German lines, they made contact with them on the radio.

“We are coming up from behind you, and we will pass through your lines as you advance to engage the enemy,” Lieutenant Dukes explained.

The German commander sent them a warning. “You are about to encounter the new T-14 Armatas,” he cautioned.

Lieutenant Duke’s troop came parallel with the German unit, just as a pair of A-10s swooped in and released several cluster bombs on the enemy positions.

“I’ve got enemy tanks, 3,000 yards to our front!” yelled Smokey as he began to call out targets.

Keying his mic for the rest of the troop, Lieutenant Dukes announced, “Listen up Alpha. We have enemy tanks to our front. The Germans are reporting T-14s in the area, so stay frosty. Our A-10s just lit them up, and a pair of Dutch F-16s are about to make a run at them. Once we see their bombs hit, I want everyone to charge forward. Call out your targets and I’ll see you all on the other side of Hill 785.”

Hill 785 was their primary target; if they could capture that hill line, it would give them a commanding view of the surrounding area. As JD sat in his tank, looking through his view finder, he saw the F-16s come screaming in, releasing a series of 500lbs. bombs across the hill. He took a deep breath, and then he saw what he was looking for-several secondary explosions lit up the horizon, letting him know that a few important vehicles had been hit.

“Let’s move, Alpha! Engage!” yelled Dukes as he ordered his driver to charge the enemy position. “Smokey, find us some targets to kill and take ‘em out!”

“T-90 at 2,800 yards! Load HEAT!” yelled Smokey to their gunner, cuing up the high-explosive anti-tank rounds.

“HEAT up!” responded Specialist Jones as he slammed the breach shut and stepped aside, bracing for the recoil of the gun.

BOOM! The cannon fired the HEAT round, which flew across the open ground and slammed into the front armor of the T-90, punching a hole right into the crew compartment. A second later, the turret blew right off the chassis of the tank, flipping end over end in the air. It was a spectacular sight.

Suddenly, they heard a loud THWAP! As a Russian tank round slapped into their frontal armor. The hit jarred everyone in the tank, but they continued to race across the open field towards Hill 785. Several explosions erupted nearby from enemy artillery rounds as the Russians started to bombard the field they were racing across.

“T-90, 2,400 yards at our three o’clock. Load HEAT!” yelled Smokey as he found another tank for them to attack.

Specialist Jones hit the lever to open the ammunition compartment, and proceeded to grab another HEAT round out of the stores, slamming it into the breach. “HEAT up!” he yelled back as he secured everything.

“Turn right!” screamed Lieutenant Dukes to his driver, overriding everyone else in the tank. Specialist Miller turned the tank sharply, just as a Russian T-14 fired a round at them. It barely missed them and plowed into the ground not far from where they had just been.

“Loader, switch to Sabot! Target that T-14!” yelled Dukes as he switched their target to the more dangerous tank. As his gunner moved to engage the T-14, they saw several additional T-14s emerge from a small copse of trees near Hill 785.

BOOM! Their tank fired their Sabot round at the Armata, just as the enemy tank fired another round at them. Their Sabot flew flat and true, slamming into the T-14’s rear engine compartment, exploding the rear half of the tank. The Armata quickly ground to a halt, although the turret turned and began to track another one of his tankers. As the round from JD’s tank hit the Armata, the enemy round hit the right side of his tank, throwing them sideways a bit and destroying several of their tank wheels. Their track quickly blew apart as their tank came to a halt, smoking badly.

“We’re hit! Blow the smokescreen and grab your weapons. We need to bail out before we get hit again!” ordered Lieutenant Dukes, hoping with everything in him that they could get out of the vehicle and somehow make a run for it back to the German positions.

JD quickly grabbed his short barrel M4 as he lifted his commander’s hatch open and began to climb out. The gunner’s hatch flipped open a second later as Smokey started to get out of the tank as well. His driver was already halfway out of the vehicle when a second tank round hit their front armor, exploding and throwing shrapnel everywhere. The blast ripped his driver, Specialist Miller, nearly in half as his lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

The detonation threw JD several feet into the air and off the back of the tank, into the grassy field his tank had just driven through. He laid flat on the ground for a second struggling to breathe. He had gotten the wind knocked out of him by the impact and he suddenly felt panicked as he fought to get air into his lungs. After he eventually managed to take a couple of deep breaths, he began to check his body for injuries. Aside from some bruised ribs and a few cuts, he could still move his arms and legs. He slowly rolled over and looked around him for the rest of his crew.

Not far from him, Sergeant Smokes was lying on the ground, slumped on his side. JD crawled over to him. He was unconscious but looked to be ok. He shook him, trying to wake him up. Smokey jolted his eyes open. “My God-what happened?” he asked in a panic.

Just then, another explosion detonated near them, throwing additional dirt into the air and showering them with grass and pebbles. JD heard a moan, and then someone called for help. As the dust particles settled a little, Lt. Dukes wiped his face and could make out Specialist Jones, his loader; he had been thrown from the tank and was maybe twenty feet away from him and Smokey. He ran over to Jones, and quickly saw that his loader’s left hand had been ripped off and his left leg was in bad shape.

JD immediately grabbed Jones’ first aid kit and tied a tourniquet on his left forearm, just below the elbow; he hoped that he had tied it tight enough to stop the bleeding. Then he began to apply a pressure dressing on Jones’ leg wound. As he worked, bullets continued to zip all around him, striking the dirt and shrubs nearby.

“Smokey, Jones is hurt bad,” JD yelled to his gunner. “I’m going to carry him out of here, but I need you to help give me some covering fire. Miller’s dead so don’t try to find him. I saw him go down-he isn’t coming back.”

Smokey just nodded and began to fire his weapon in the direction of the Russians.

JD reached down and threw Jones over his shoulder as he grabbed his M4 and began to run back towards the German positions. Smokey provided some cover fire for him with his M4, and waved to the Germans who were roughly 1,000 yards away to help them.

Several German soldiers jumped out of their positions and ran towards the Americans, firing their rifles at the Russian soldiers (who were now sending a lot of lead in their direction). One of the German Marder infantry fighting vehicles turned its turret towards the Russian lines and began to spray 25mm cannon fire into the Russian positions to help keep their heads down.

Just as JD had made it to the German positions, a round clipped his right leg and he went down hard. He tried to get up with Jones still on his shoulder, but his leg gave out from the pain. One of the German soldiers quickly grabbed Jones and began to carry him further behind their lines to the medics, who were already working on several wounded soldiers. Another German grabbed JD and pulled his right arm over his shoulder and began to help carry him to the makeshift aid station. Meanwhile, the soldiers and infantry fighting vehicles continued to fight back against what was quickly becoming a Russian counterattack. Anti-tank missiles could be seen streaking from their lines, slamming into several of the Russian tanks and armored vehicles, slowing their advance.

“I need a radio!” yelled JD above the cacophony of machine gun fire and explosions.

As he laid there bleeding, waiting for a medic to make his way over to him, one of the German soldiers had heard him and asked, “Why?”

“That’s my tank troop out there. I need to know how they are doing and what’s going on,” JD pleaded.

The soldier looked sad in that moment. Then he said, “All of the American tanks were destroyed. We are helping the few crewmen who got out of their tanks make their way back to our lines. I was told as soon as we have them, we are going to pull back. The new Russian tanks are hitting the entire NATO lines.” The German was visibly disheartened.

In that moment, JD laid his head back down on the grass, not sure of what to say or how to respond. He stared off into the sky above him. Nearly everyone he knew in his battalion, and now his own command, had been effectively wiped out. He fought back tears.

One of the medics came up to him and ripped his pants leg open. He wiped away some of the blood with some water from a canteen. JD saw the wound; it looked like the bullet had just grazed his leg, though he would probably need some stitches. Several Germans helped to load the wounded soldiers into an armored ambulance that quickly whisked them away to the rear of the fighting lines, where they could be better treated.

It took nearly an hour for their ambulance to arrive at a local field hospital roughly thirty miles behind the front lines. Several medics helped to move the wounded to waiting cots where they were being quickly triaged. JD saw several medivac helicopters landing at the far side of the field hospital. Dozens of medics were busily rushing the most seriously wounded soldiers towards the waiting angels of mercy that would carry them to a higher-level trauma center.

One of the medics walked up to JD and began to examine his leg. “This isn’t too deep but it’s going to need stitches. I think we can try the glue, which might work better, but you are going to have to take it easy on the leg for at least two weeks or it’ll reopen. Do you want to try the glue or the stitches?” asked the medic, giving him a choice.

“If the glue will get me back into the fight sooner, then let’s go that route,” replied JD, knowing he needed to get back to his battalion.

After six hours of heavy fighting, the offensive stalled. Eventually the ground force commander called a halt until the Air Force could reestablish air superiority and suppress the Russian artillery and the new Russian tanks which began to flood the area.