Sword Point

Chapter 11

The offloading of the ships was surprisingly easy and fast despite the poor facilities and the damage to the port. Sufficient ramps and piers had been cleared to allow the RO-RO ships to come in and disgorge their contents with the speed and ease for which they were built. Had all the ships arrived, the whole movement from the States, with a few exceptions, would have been a complete success.

Not all the ships had made it. Four had been sunk en route and another badly damaged. Two of the ships lost had been carrying munitions and supplies. Two had equipment belonging to both the active-duty maneuver brigades of the 25th Armored Division and the division's support command.

While the loss of any one of the ships was serious, the loss of four and the nature of the loss were crippling. Rather than being able to field two fully equipped combat brigades, the division now had only enough equipment and supplies to field one weak brigade with two maneuver battalions instead of the normal three.

The bulk of the division's personnel had been held at Ras Banas, outside the war zone, until it could be determined which units would provide the people to man the limited amount of equipment that was available. It wasn't until the evening of 28 June that the 3rd of the 4th Armor and the 1st of the 29th Infantry were alerted that they, along with the 5th of the 55th Field Artillery, would deploy the next day to receive what equipment was available and form the 2nd Brigade. These units, once in Iran, would be equipped by pooling together the remaining equipment. Plans to use U.S. Army equipment pre-positioned in Europe were being discussed in Washington and at NATO Headquarters in Brussels, but no decision had been made. Every new move to divert units or equipment tagged for NATO was met with alarm by the NATO Allies. Still, in time, some equipment from Europe would be made available. Until then those personnel not required and without equipment stayed in Egypt until the equipment was available or they were required as replacements.

The arrival of the ships in the early-morning hours of the thirtieth was greeted by the personnel of the three battalions, the brigade headquarters and support units. Those selected to drive the vehicles off the ships and out of the port area stood and watched the ships of the convoy enter the port and tie up to the piers. At first an effort was made to off load the ships in an orderly manner, one unit at a time. This, however, quickly broke down due to the manner in which the ships had been loaded and intermittent air raids that sent ships' crews and military personnel alike scrambling for cover. Instead, the first driver who was handy and who thought he could operate the next vehicle in line was grabbed, put into the driver's hatch or behind the wheel and directed to drive to the appropriate equipment holding areas around the port area. MPs at the exit leading from the dock were instructed to direct all tanks to one area, all artillery pieces to another, trucks to a third, Bradley fighting vehicles to a fourth, and anything that didn't look like the others to 197 a fifth area called the Mox Nix area, from the German macht nichts, "it makes no difference."

This caused great confusion as unit commanders and supply officers sorted through the holding areas in an effort to put their units together. Beyond the initial marshaling areas, a staging area for each unit had been designated. It was the task of the battalion commanders and their staffs to find the vehicles they needed, gather up drivers needed to move them to staging areas, and assemble their units. There full crews married up the vehicles, and the process of forming platoons, then companies and finally battalions was begun. This assembling of the equipment and personnel and formation of units, however, did not complete the preparations. The combat units still had to draw supplies, fuel and ammunition, commodities that were on other ships and that had to be retrieved and issued by supply units, once they had assembled and formed.

Major Scott Dixon sat in the driver's seat of a hummer that Sergeant Nesbitt had procured earlier for him and watched the comings and goings along the dock areas. It was the scene at Beaumont, Texas, all over again, only in reverse. How much easier it would have been had the battalions been loaded as entire units. So simple. Then it occurred to him that he had not seen the S.S. Cape Fear, the ship that the equipment of the 3rd of the 4th had originally been loaded onto. For a second, his curiosity was piqued. He wondered whether the Cape Fear and its crew of obnoxious seamen had made it. The thought soon passed.

He had a hell of a headache and was not about to wander up and down the docks looking for a ship that might not even be there. Besides, whether it was there or not made no difference. The unit had already secured enough tanks and Bradleys to reach full TOE strength.

Perhaps, someday, if he survived this campaign, he would look it up in a history book and see whatever became of the Cape Fear.

Since his arrival in the country, Lieutenant General Weir had been greeted with one shock after another. He had come ahead to study the situation and prepare himself and his staff for when the 10th Corps headquarters was activated and assumed operational control of its subordinate units. His arrival, however, could not have come at a worse time. He was able to observe the collapse of the 13th Corps's defensive perimeter firsthand. A current situation update given to him before leaving Washington had not prepared him for what he found and in no way matched reality as viewed from Bandar Abbas.

Tactically, the situation was, at best, desperate. The corps had been deployed almost haphazardly as its subordinate units arrived in the country. The 52nd Infantry, Division (Mechanized) had only its two active-duty brigades. That division, last to arrive, was deployed in the west, sent there because the main Soviet threat had appeared to be coming from that direction. It was now obvious that that threat had been a grand deception to draw the 13th Corps's attention away from the true main effort. Unfortunately, the 52nd Division was now too heavily committed and was unable to break contact without endangering the entire defensive perimeter.

The 17th Airborne Division, first in, was deployed in the east. After it had secured the initial airhead and pushed it out as far as Tarom, the follow-on division, the 12th Division, had leapfrogged over it and assumed responsibility for the center. The 17th Airborne had reassembled, rested and then redeployed two brigades with the mission of linking up with the 6th Marine Division operating out of Chah Bahar, but could maintain only very tenuous contact because of the vast distances between the two units.

The third brigade of the 17th had been held in reserve by 13th Corps at Saadatabad, ready to respond to a penetration at any point or deal with Iranian guerrillas. The penetration that came on 28 June had been against the 12th Division.

Two Soviet divisions, one motorized rifle and one tank, reinforced with additional assets from — the 28th Combined Arms Army, formed the main effort that hit at Rafsanjan. A motorized rifle division moving through the Zagros Mountains had been responsible for conducting deception operations and supporting attacks against the 52nd Infantry Division.

While the 52nd was able to hold its own, trading ground for time, the 12th had, after two days of combat, ceased to exist as a combat-effective division. Of nine infantry battalions assigned to the division, four had been overrun on the first day of the attack and had not been heard of since. Two had been cut off and encircled. Two of the remaining three battalions had been mauled as they attempted to fight a delaying action at Pariz on the road that led from Rafsanjan to Bandar Abbas. An assault at Kerman had crippled the division's combat-aviation brigade, destroying many of its helicopters and most of the maintenance and support units required to maintain them. While the rest of the division base, consisting of the headquarters, supply and maintenance units and engineer and air-defense units, remained relatively intact, the combat elements were gone.

The Air Force was committing everything it had in an effort to sever the Soviet advance from its lines of communication. Strikes against the Soviets' supply lines and identified supply dumps were run round the clock.

The Soviets, however, anticipating such an effort, had reduced the number of ground-combat units committed to the bare minimum and used all the air-defense units from uncommitted units to cover their lines of communication. The smaller number of units required fewer supplies, and the roads needed to move those supplies along were better protected. As a result, the efforts of the Air Force had yielded few tangible results in comparison to a high cost — in lost aircraft and pilots.

On the ground, the corps reserve had been committed, but in a piecemeal fashion. Since it was clear that the paratroopers would not be able to stop the advancing Soviet columns, company-sized units were being inserted by helicopter along the Soviets' main axis of advance, to conduct anti armor ambushes, a form of delaying action. The idea was to establish a roadblock with mines and craters under cover of darkness. When the Soviets hit the barrier, they were attacked with antitank guided missiles launched from covered and concealed positions. The company was then evacuated by helicopter before the Soviets were able to turn on the ambushers in force.

Done properly, it was an effective method of delaying an enemy. But it only delayed them. To stop and defeat the Soviets, heavy forces-tanks and Bradleys-were needed. That was where the 25th Armored Division, and particularly the 2nd Brigade, came in.

What disturbed Weir more than the tactical situation, grim as it was, was the state of despair that permeated the corps staff. The commander of the 13th Corps, once a boastful and somewhat arrogant man, always in charge, had said barely two words throughout the entire evening update briefing.

When Weir asked him directly what his intentions were concerning the employment of the 25th Armored Division, he had looked at Weir rather absentmindedly and said, "I'm not sure. We're going to have to study that some," then turned and walked away to his office. There was the smell of defeat in the air throughout the headquarters of the 13th Corps. Because of this, Weir fought orders that temporarily attached the 25th Armored Division to that corps.

Weir contacted the Commander in Chief of CENT COM, demanding that the 10th Corps be activated immediately. The CINC listened to Weir's recommendations but decided that it was unwise to change commanders and headquarters in the middle of the battle. The CINC wanted the situation to stabilize before he commit ted the 10th Corps so that he could use it to conduct a counteroffensive. To commit the entire corps to the defense would mean pissing away his only viable offensive ground-maneuver force. Weir countered that unless the 10th Corps was committed, there would be no ground left to conduct the counteroffensive over. While the CINC was willing to let some of the 10th Corps units join the battle in progress in order to stabilize the situation, he didn't want to lose them all in defensive operations. The bulk of the 10th Corps, in the meantime, would stay out of the battle and assemble in the rear.

For a while, Weir considered going straight to his friend Lieutenant General Horn, then decided against it. Going over the head of his immediate commander could lead to his dismissal. The last thing Weir wanted to do was get thrown out of the war before he got into it.

The grinding of gears and the laboring of truck engines in the distance were the only noises that penetrated the cool night air. A heavily laden supply column led by a Soviet BRDM armored car en route to the front was slowly making its way up an incline. In another two minutes the column would come to a bend in the road just before it crested the hill. There it would be met by Sergeant First Class Duncan and the men of the 1st Platoon.

After escaping the Soviet onslaught, Duncan had rallied his men and taken them into hiding a few kilometers away. There he took stock of what he had.

That wasn't very much. Seventeen men had followed him out of the foxholes.

They brought with them their individual weapons, a couple of dozen hand grenades, some claymore nines, eight LAW antitank-rocket launchers and two Dragon missiles. Food was almost nonexistent, and they had only the water in their canteens. The one thing that the platoon had plenty of was 5.56mm. ammo for their rifles and squad automatic rifles, or SAWs.

As Duncan was checking, it became obvious that none of the men, including him, had fired a rifle. There simply had not been any targets that small-arms fire would have had an effect on.

The first major problem Duncan faced was getting his men over the shock of the disaster they had just survived. Once out of danger, they fell into a state of despondency. One man kept asking no one in particular,

"What happened? What in the hell happened?" over and over. Duncan himself was bewildered and in a stupor. The image of his lieutenant's body still caused a violent reaction. Never having been confronted with a situation of the magnitude he now faced, Duncan did what came naturally to him, what he had been trained for: being a soldier and a leader.

First he organized his group into two squads and distributed equally all the weapons, ammunition and food: That done, he got the men together and told them what they were going to do. He did not ask for opinions, he did not ask for a vote. As far as he was concerned, there was no alternative for them. They would fight. Duncan was honest with his men. There was no false bravado, there were no promises. The men watched and listened intently as he told them that they would move south, paralleling the road the Soviets were using. When the opportunity presented itself, they would ambush convoys or small patrols. Duncan made it clear that they were going to fight whenever and wherever they could get the drop on the Russians. He held the hope that they would be able to make their way back to their own lines, but stressed that that was only a hope.

The men accepted Duncan's decision in silence. That night there was no further discussion on the matter. They were at war. They were soldiers,

American soldiers, renowned for their ability to do things that defied logic. In the tradition of Valley Forge, the Alamo, New Market and the Bulge, the men of 1st Platoon followed their leader and prepared to exact their revenge.

Duncan watched as the BRDM leading the convoy rolled forward. He divided the platoon into teams. The first team consisted of three men armed with LAWS. On Duncan's order they would take out the BRDM leading the convoy.

Their firing would be the signal for the main team, deployed just off the road, to fire on the trucks nearest them. These men were further broken down into three-man sections. Each section was to fire on one truck, taking out the drivers and shooting the tires. Once a section managed to stop a truck and the immediate area appeared to be safe, two men were given sixty seconds to raid the truck for food, water and any types of antitank weapons they could find, while the third man covered them. The last team, located at the far end of the ambush, was the security team. Because the platoon was not large enough to deal with an entire column and could take on only a small chunk of it by isolating the lead trucks, the security team's job was to keep the rest of the convoy busy and provide covering fires while the ambush team rummaged through the stopped trucks. Once finished, all teams would withdraw to a predesignated rally point, then move to a hiding place where they would spend the following day.

Like most commanders leading men into battle, Duncan was nervous as he lay there watching the BRDM labor up the incline. His mind was filled with fear and apprehension. Had he thought of everything? Were his men really ready for combat? What happened if the BRDM wasn't knocked out by the team with the LAWS? Were the lead trucks full of supplies or Soviet infantry? Was the security team large enough to deal with the rest of the convoy? What would they do if his men didn't find any food on the trucks? Questions and concerns cascaded through his mind.

Despite the cool evening, he was sweating. He wiped his hands and watched the progress of the BRDM.

The image of his lieutenant's body, ripped open and quivering as its life force oozed out, flashed through Duncan's brain. His stomach began to turn and knot up. As he tried hard to compose himself, he wondered what he feared more, death or failure. Death was easier for him. Once he was dead, his problems were over. Failure was the more to be feared of the two. If he failed, his men would pay the price.

They would be ripped apart, just like the lieutenant. Other horrible images would crowd his mind. That, to Duncan, was more terrible than death.

The soldier next to Duncan nudged him and pointed. The BRDM was about to reach the point where the team with the LAWs could engage it. Duncan watched, waited and prepared to give the order to fire. In another second, it would be out of his hands.

A convoy of T-80 tanks of the 3rd Battalion, Soviet 68th Tank Regiment, moved through the darkness like a great mechanical snake. Its body turned and slithered along the road relentlessly, always going south.

This snake, however, was not alert. Hours of monotonous moving at the same unchanging, slow speed through a countryside that did not vary had drained the last ounce of vigilance from the young tank commanders and their crews. The rhythmic thumping of the tanks' tracks on the road, the steady vibration of the engines, and the silence of the radios and the intercom were more conducive to sleep than to alertness. Instead of standing in their turrets or peering through their sights, watching their assigned sectors, they struggled to stay awake, occupying themselves with thoughts of home.

Besides, with security forces out on the flanks and recon elements in front, the danger of an attack on the tanks was minimal.

As the long columns moved, it was not unusual for a tank to slowly drift off toward the shoulder of the road and into a ditch as its crew fell asleep. Sometimes the driver or the tank commander would feel the change in the vibrations of the tank as it moved onto the rough shoulder. When this happened, the driver, startled by the calamity he faced, would jerk the tank back into line, tossing the crew in the turret about. On other occasions, the crew never realized what was happening until the tank literally fell off the road.

Sometimes these incidents resulted in nothing more than a few bumps and bruises and a slight disruption in the column until the tank that had strayed climbed out of the ditch and back into the line of march. On other occasions the consequences were far more serious, particularly when the tank crew fell asleep as the unit was moving along a cliff.

Major Vorishnov came across a 2nd Battalion tank in which this had happened. The tank commander, unable to drop down into the safety of the turret, had been crushed when the tank rolled over on top of him as it fell off the cliff.

Vorishnov stopped to see whether there was something he could do. As he watched the recovery operation, he could not help but think what a terrible waste it was to have come so far from home, to have survived several battles, only to be killed in such a manner. Such nonbattie losses were more numerous than his superiors liked to admit. But to stop for rest was to lose their momentum and possibly the opportunity to end the campaign before the arrival of the bulk of the Americans' heavy forces. The decision was made to push on. Better to lose a few now by pushing hard than many because an opportunity was not taken.

Such decisions, however logical, did little to lessen the impact on the men who had to lift a forty ton tank off the body of a twenty-year-old tank commander whose driver had fallen asleep.

Three thousand meters away, fiberglass tubes, protruding from under camouflage nets that fluttered lazily in the cool night air, followed the progress of the T-80 tanks. Under the nets, TOW gunners, their eyes pressed against the rubber eyepieces on the TOWs' thermal night sights, tracked the tank that each had selected for destruction. With ease and steadiness achieved through countless hours of training and practice, the gunners kept the cross hairs fixed on the tank as if they were glued to it. Across the road, in positions similar to those occupied by the TOW gunners but closer, were Dragon gunners. They, like their compatriots, watched through thermal sights as the Soviet column slithered south.

Second Lieutenant Cerro slowly lowered his night-vision goggles. For a moment he was blind, his eyes unable to adapt themselves to the darkness after being exposed to the bright-green light of the goggles.

As his night vision returned, Cerro rose slightly from his position and looked to his left. Somewhere, in a rough line on the west side of the road that extended over fifteen hundred meters, there were four TOW-missile launchers under his command. He could not see them, which was the way things were supposed to be, but he knew they were there, tracking the Soviet column as he was. Satisfied that the Soviets were unable to see his TOW positions, Cerro put the night-vision goggles back up to his eyes and looked beyond the column to the east, where six Dragon teams were hidden. They, like the TOW positions, were also invisible.

It had taken the company hours to move up to where they wanted to be and prepare their positions. Every time a column moved down the road, the men would have to stop work and flatten themselves against the ground.. When they had scratched out positions that provided some cover, the TOW and Dragon crews draped nets over them. Once finished, they settled into the positions, set up their weapons and waited for the signal to fire.

Cerro, the acting company commander, had briefed them all on their roles and how the ambush would go down. When the unit was ready, he would designate the column to be hit. He wanted to go for tanks.

The signal to initiate the ambush would be a green star cluster sent up by Cerro. The TOWs would then fire, hitting the first, fourth" seventh and eleventh tanks in the column, after which the TOW gunners would go to ground and wait. If the Soviets reacted as Cerro expected, the remaining tanks would turn toward the TOWs. When they did, they would expose their rear decks to the Dragon teams. Each Dragon team would then take one shot and run for their designated rally point. Antitank mines lined the road on the Dragon gunners' side in case the Russians decided to turn and pursue them. If Cerro wanted the TOWs to take a second shot, he would fire a second green star cluster. If, however, the Russians appeared to be an immediate threat and the TOWs could not get another clean shot in, he would fire a red star cluster, the signal for the TOWs to withdraw to their rally point.

In support of the ambush a three-gun 81 mm. mortar section hidden in a wadi would fire high-explosive and smoke rounds. They would not kill any tanks, but would add to the confusion and cover the withdrawal of the company.

Helicopters hidden away in wide wadis not far from the two rally points waited for the ambush to be 207 sprung. Once the firing started, the pilots would crank up their machines, move to the rally points and pick up CerroIs men. With luck, the ambushers would be off the ground ten minutes after the first green star cluster was fired.

Cerro watched and waited. He passed the word to stand by. On the lip of his foxhole sat three star clusters, two green and one red, open and ready for use. The column to their front was theirs.

Unnoticed by the crew, the third tank in line began to weave back and forth across the road. In the driver's compartment, a young man not yet twenty fought to stay awake. His head bobbed up and down as he struggled to open eyes that no longer saw clearly. In desperation he called to his tank commander, to tell him that he was unable to keep his eyes open. The tank commander, however, was already asleep, his head resting against the mount of the 12.7mm. machine gun. The gunner had been out for over an hour. The driver, his head clouded from exhaustion, never noticed the tilting of the tank as it ran off the east side of the road.

Neither was he able to comprehend what was happening to him as the T-80 pushed the tilt rod of an M-21 antitank mine down, setting off its detonator. In an instant, the mine's penetrator was driven up into the belly of the tank, ripping through the ammunition stored below the turret floor. Sparks caused by metal ripping through metal ignited the main-gun propellant charges and gutted the tank with a flash fire in milliseconds.

In less time than it took the others in the column to perceive that something was happening, three men were dead and the entire length of the column was lit up by the sheet of flame that leaped from the turret of the disabled T-80 tank.

In an instant Vorishnov knew what was happening. He could see no sign of an antitank guided missile. He had not heard the high-pitched crack of a tank cannon. It had to have been a mine. And if there was a mine, there probably was an ambush.

Cerro was dumbfounded. At first he thought that someone had fired too soon.

But he had not heard a missile launch or the popping of guidance rockets.

A quick glance gave him the answer. A Soviet tank had wandered off the road and hit a mine. Already other Soviet tanks were maneuvering into firing positions. In the light of the flames coming from the hapless burning tank he could see the other tank commanders closing their hatches, preparing for battle.

With no time to waste, Cerro reached for a green star cluster. He had to start the ambush before the Soviets had completely recovered from their surprise. His men, equally confused by the sudden turn of events, were waiting for the prearranged signal to fire. In the darkness, Cerro removed the star cluster's cover, sliding it over the bottom of the tube. Firmly holding the tube, pointed skyward, in his left hand, he struck the bottom of it with the palm of his right hand, setting off the star cluster. Once the cluster was launched, Cerro dropped the tube, leaned over the front edge of his foxhole and brought his binoculars to his eyes.

He had no sooner done so than the entire area around him was bathed in a bright-red light from the star cluster he had fired. Cerro froze. He couldn't believe it. He looked down at the edge of his foxhole and saw two unused green star clusters sitting there. In his haste, he had given the signal to withdraw instead of the one to fire. He turned to his right. In the fading red light he could see his TOW crews leaving their positions in accordance with the plan. No doubt the Dragon teams were doing likewise.

Cerro pounded his fist against the dirt, shouting a string of obscenities.

His plan was going to shit and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

The chatter of machine guns from the tanks on the road brought him back to his immediate problem. The tanks were firing wildly in all directions. The only thing Cerro could do now to influence the situation was order the mortars to fire. Their commander, confused by the single explosion followed by the red star cluster, was calling Cerro over the radio asking for instructions. At least the mortars could cover the withdrawal for a while.

Vorishnov and the battalion commander were at a loss as to what to do.

The ditches along the side of the road were obviously mined. It was therefore hazardous for them to maneuver the battalion off the road.

The red star cluster, fired from somewhere to the west, had obviously meant something, but Vorishnov had no idea what. Nothing had happened when it fired.

As he tried to sort sense out of chaos, small-caliber mortar rounds, a mix of high-explosive and smoke rounds, began to hit among the road bound tanks.

That explained the star cluster: it was a signal for the mortars to fire.

But that didn't make sense, either. What use were small-caliber mortar rounds, particularly smoke, against tanks? Though their aim was quite accurate and they did much to add to the confusion and the general pandemonium, the mortars were really doing nothing of any value. You fired smoke only when you wanted to screen something. What were they screening? Suicide squads? It had to be Iranian fanatics. In the past two months they had done some very strange things that defied all logic and explanation. Whatever they were up to, it was having no real effect on the battalion, except to cause panic and a rash of gibberish over the command radio net. In a booming voice, the battalion commander ordered silence on that net. In an instant, order was restored, at least on the radio.

It was easy for the men of the company-command group to follow their commander in the darkness to the rally point. All they had to do was follow the sound of Cerro's cursing. He had screwed up. The men in the command group knew it, and soon the entire company would know it.

At the rally point all the TOW-section leaders counted their men, then reported to Cerro when he arrived. All were present. Second Lieutenant Kinsley, in charge of the Dragon teams to the east, called in that all teams and personnel had reported in and they were in the process of loading up in the helicopters and preparing to lift off. Cerro gave him a roger-out. The mortar-section leader called in and reported that his section had broken down and was also moving to load onto its helicopters. Cerro's acknowledgment to the mortar-section leader was drowned out by the noise of the helicopters coming in to evacuate Cerro and the TOW crews.

As he watched the Blackhawks land, Cerro thanked God that at least the evacuation had come off without a hitch and the entire fiasco had been bloodless. He had read once that any battle you walked away from was a good one. That, unfortunately, was about the only positive thing he could say for this one.

Flames from the burning tank silhouetted Vorishnov and his commander as they walked back to their vehicles. Neither one was able to explain the strange battle that had taken place there. The best that they could figure was that the tank that had exploded had prematurely started the action before the attackers were ready. Rather than stay and fight at a disadvantage, the ambushers had withdrawn. Vorishnov commented that that had been a wise move. It was, in his view, best to walk away from a bad fight and wait until you had the advantage. While the battalion commander agreed, he was quick to point out that even if the incident had been a botched ambush, it had succeeded in stopping them and delaying their advance for thirty minutes while the column got sorted out, the area cleared and the road swept for mines. They could not suffer too many such delays and reach the Gulf before the Americans had built up the strength needed to stop them.

The two men also agreed that they had been incredibly lucky. They knew that they were pushing their luck. The men were tired and the equipment needed maintenance.. Resupply was becoming an iffy proposition as the divisions moved farther south. Bypassed pockets both of Americans, now recovering from their initiation to battle, and of Iranian fanatics were beginning to hit the lightly defended supply columns with disturbing frequency. Fuel, critical to maintaining the advance, was becoming a scarce commodity. Even if the Americans were unable to mass enough of their tank forces to stop them, lack of supplies would keep the 28th Combined Arms Army from reaching the Strait of Hormuz. In a briefing to his commanders, the regimental commander had likened their situation to the stretching of a great rubber band. It was their task to stretch that rubber band all the way to the Gulf of Oman without its breaking. In the fading light of the burning tank, Vorishnov wondered if that could be done. And if it couldn't, then what?

The personnel of the 2nd Brigade headquarters were in good spirits despite a long night. They had traveled over roads that had ceased to be roads years before, suffered delays while moving broken-down vehicles from their path and survived the ever present threat of ambushes by Iranian guerrillas. They had done so with all of their equipment and vehicles and had managed to set up and camouflage before first light. While the value of camouflaging the command post and the vehicles with nets colored to blend into wooded areas instead of the bleak, rock-strewn hills of southern Iran was questionable, anything was better than being in the open. According to Lieutenant Matthews, the Soviets had a satellite passing over southern Iran every two hours. The command post of the only armored brigade standing between the Russians and the Persian Gulf was no doubt high on the Soviets' list of targets to find and eradicate.

The three M-577 command-post vehicles that made up the tactical-operations center, or TOC, of the 2nd Brigade were set side by side. The canvas extensions from all three vehicles were up and connected. This provided a work area for the staff officers on duty.

Maps depicting the brigade's situation, the enemy situation, artillery targets and contingency plans were hanging from poles that supported the extensions. Between the maps were status boards showing critical information such as the current organization of the brigade, the status and number of weapons systems available by unit, and radio call signs and frequencies. Radio speakers and hand mikes as well as tactical telephones were placed on tables throughout the TOC so that the appropriate staff officer could look at his map or update a board while talking on the phone or listening to the radio. To a casual observer, the TOC was sheer bedlam.

The confined area was filled with people coming and going, three different briefings were going on at the same time, phones were ringing. To the operations and intelligence personnel of 2nd Brigade, it was home.

Matthews sat before the intelligence map and posted information that had been received during the night but had not been posted during the move north. Though the situation was threatening, it was looking better than it had looked two days earlier. The two divisions moving toward them had been slowed down considerably. A combination of ground attacks by forces cut off but still fighting, raids carried out by the 17th Airborne along the Soviets' line of march and attacks by the Air Force had had the effect of slowing the Soviets and buying time for the 2nd Brigade to deploy.

Matthews' current projections showed that it would be four to five days before the Soviets could mount a deliberate breakthrough attack against the brigade. By then, they would be as ready as they ever would.

The deployment of the 2nd Brigade bothered Matthews. The tank and mechanized battalions, reorganized into combined-arms task forces, had been placed across the main avenues of approach to the south. The 3rd Battalion of the 4th Armor sat on the road and blocked it. The 1st of the 29th Infantry was covering a secondary avenue to its east. These units, placed in close proximity, could support each other in a pinch depending on where the Soviets made their main effort. But the use of a light infantry battalion attached to the brigade gave her concern. A valley west of the brigade's main sector ran south from Harvand, past Hajjiabad to Tarom. The infantry battalion was assigned the responsibility of covering this approach. Because the road network was so bad there, the 12th Division G-2 felt that the Soviets would not risk sending heavy forces south through Harvand. If that did happen, the infantry battalion was, in their opinion, capable of stopping the enemy in the restricted terrain there. Failing that, the battalion could delay the enemy long enough for the armored or mech task forces to shift over and reinforce the air assault battalion. When Matthews volunteered that no infantry unit had yet been able to delay, let alone stop, a Soviet mounted attack, she was politely told to confine her attention to Soviet operations.

While she had some support for her position, no one changed the plan as it stood. For better or worse, the die for the 2nd Brigade's first battle was cast. After thirty eight days of waiting and twelve thousand miles of travel, they were at the front.