Sword Point

Chapter 12

The town suddenly became clearly visible in the distance as the two F15s flew over a low ridge. Martain tilted the plane slightly to the right and began to accelerate. "Aliabad dead ahead. Air defense status?"

The wizzo scanned his instruments. There was no indication of Soviet target-acquisition radar signals. "All clear. Go for it."

"It" in this case was a fuel dump that had been located in the vicinity of Aliabad by an early-morning air reconnaissance. The Soviets were still setting it up and had not had enough time to complete its camouflage before the sun was up. One fuel bladder, completely full, and a partial view of second fuel bladder being camouflaged, plus a five-thousand-gallon fuel tanker, caught the eye of a photo-image interpreter aboard the carrier U.S.S. Hornet. Knowing that fuel dumps were high-priority targets, he passed the photos and his analysis immediately to his supervisor, a staff intelligence officer. The officer confirmed the analysis and forwarded the information and the photos via facsimile to the intelligence section of CENT COM aboard the U.S.S. Berkshire. There the information was again reviewed, this time against photos of the same area the day before.

Once it was verified that the target was new and was in fact a fuel dump, the information was passed on to a targeting officer.

The targeting officer reviewed the target profile and analysis along with those of other targets, assigned a priority to the fuel dump and placed it on the consolidated target list. Its place came immediately after nuclear capable Soviet units and headquarters of divisions or higher units.

Once the target list was completed, assets available to hit those targets were assigned. The targeting process is difficult in that not all targets are marked for destruction and there are never enough assets available to hit all targets. Some, such as "command-and-control nodes," or headquarters, can have high-tech intelligence assets focused on them in order to gain more information.

The same command-and-control node could also be neutralized with electronic jammers that would impair its ability to command subordinate elements. If the target is sufficiently stationary, special operations forces could be deployed to strike it. In the case of the fuel dump at Aliabad, a squadron of F-15Es was assigned the task of taking it out immediately.

Once the target list was approved, orders were cut and sent out to the appropriate headquarters. All information concerning the targets went along. The operations officer of the unit assigned to each target developed the unit's plan of attack, or, if time permitted and it was necessary, additional recon of the target was requested before the final plan was developed. The wing operations officer reviewing the intelligence data on the fuel dump decided against additional recon. He had sufficient data to work with.

An air attack involved several different players and was planned in phases.

These phases normally included the flight to the target by the attack aircraft, suppression of enemy air-defense elements, called SEA DE (pronounced "seed"), by special aircraft, the actual attack on the target, and the return. If the primary target could not be hit or did not require all the ordnance being carried, a strike against a secondary target was also planned.

Travel to and from the target had to be carefully planned by the operations officer of the assigned unit, since the attacking planes would be flying not only over enemy air-defense units but also over friendly forces armed with air-defense weapons. To ensure against errors by nervous soldiers believing in the philosophy of "Shoot them down and sort them out on the ground," temporary air corridors to be used by the attackers would be set up. Army air-defense elements would receive the word about where these air corridors were and when they would be open. The rules are quite simple when it comes to air corridors: Any plane in an air corridor when it is open cannot be engaged by friendly forces unless the aircraft is definitely identified as hostile. If friendly aircraft stray from established air corridors or miss the established times, they are fair game to ground antiaircraft fire.

Dealing with enemy air defenses can be done by hitting the air-defense units or their radars, by jamming the airdefense radars or by simply avoiding them. Specialized aircraft and units, called "Wild Wessels," do nothing but suppress enemy air defense in support of attack missions. They precede the attackers and clear a corridor through enemy air defenses so that the attackers can reach the target and get back. Air-superiority fighters are also assigned to provide high cover against enemy fighters on patrol or intentionally dispatched to bounce the attackers.

An attack such as the one on the fuel dump requires split-second timing and a great deal of coordination. All services practice such operations in peace and rapidly get very good at it once war commences.

Martain was not pleased when he drew the mission to hit the fuel dump.

As the squadron's premier fighter pilot, With eight kills to his credit, he felt he belonged with the 217 aircraft providing cover, not playing mud mover. The squadron commander, however, was adamant that everyone do his time in the ground-attack role. "After all," the squadron commander said, "if the government wanted you to be a fighter pilot they would have given you a big watch and a cheap airplane."

Martain and his wingman would be the first of four aircraft that would hit the fuel dump. If Omaha Flight succeeded in taking out the fuel dump on its pass, the remaining two planes would hit an unidentified headquarters located a little farther north. The rest of the squadron was assigned the task of providing high cover to the attacking aircraft. For the mission, both Omaha 01 and 02 were carrying over sixteen thousand pounds of bombs, mostly Rockeye cluster bombs, with four 750-pound general-purpose bombs each for good measure. This was in addition to their Sidewinder and Sparrow air-to-air missiles for self-defense.

As Omaha Flight came screaming up over the ridge and veered to the northwest at a speed in excess of 550 miles an hour, Martain was reminded of how nervous he got when he was moving that fast one hundred feet off the ground. Their attack profile would be a low approach, followed by a quick pop up to identify the target, and a diving attack.

Once all bombs were released, which would take only a second, he would go low again, kick in his after burner and get the hell out of Dodge before the people on the ground knew what had happened and got pissed.

Omaha 02 would be right beside him, with Vegas Flight thirty seconds behind.

As they approached the pop-up point, Martain again asked his wizzo whether they had been tagged by radar. A short "Negative" was all he had time for before Martain began to climb and search for landmarks. He had only a second to do so. Starting from the town, he looked to the west until he found a small kidney-shaped hill and then a road. Keeping his eyes glued on a point between the hill and the road, he turned his aircraft toward it.

The fuel dump was tucked into that area.

All his energies and attention were now totally oriented to that spot.

His thumb flipped up the red cover that 218 protected the bomb-release button. With ease born of hours of training, he turned the F-15 over onto its side, then down into a dive, all the time watching the hill as it grew larger and closer. Martain could now see people scurrying from under camouflage nets, running for shelter or weapons. Tracers were racing up at him. The people on the ground knew he was coming and what he was after. A flash and a streak of white smoke to one side of the F-15, seen in the corner of his eye, told Martain he was being engaged by anSA-7 surface-to-air missile.

But it was too late. The F-15 was on the mark. The target was in the box in his sight. All was set. Martain hit the button and felt the aircraft suddenly spring up as it became sixteen thousand pounds lighter. In an instant he hit his after burners, flattened out his dive and charged south as fast as his engines could carry them.

Neither he nor his wizzo could see the effects of their work. They didn't need to. The leader of Vegas Flight coming up behind reported that the target appeared to be destroyed and that he was going after the secondary target.

The sun was casting long shadows on the ground by the time Major Dixon returned to the command post of the 3rd of the 4th Armor. As he approached, the glint of the late-afternoon sun reflecting off uncovered glass caught his eye. As his Bradley grew nearer, he was disturbed to see several vehicles scattered throughout the area without camouflage nets up or cloth covering their windows or mirrors. He could not get over how totally stupid some people were. What use was it to put nets up over the TOC if everyone and his brother who owned a vehicle parked it outside? From the air the CP must look like a used-military-vehicle parking lot.

Even before he was within range, Dixon began to call out for the headquarters commandant. A young captain, too young to command the monster that the battalion's 219

headquarters company was, came out from under a net not far from the TOC.

Without shutting down the engine or getting down from atop his Bradley, Dixon bellowed out, "Ellis, get these gawddamned vehicles outa here or I'll run 'em over!" Ellis looked up at the red-faced major and attempted to explain, but was cut off as Dixon yelled, "Now, Captain-today!"

It was only after Ellis had rushed off to find the drivers that Dixon noticed the bumper numbers on two of the uncovered hummers. One of them belonged to the brigade commander and the other to the brigade S-3. Not expecting an answer, he asked himself out loud, "What in the hell is the brigade commander and his three doing running around in hummers?" No doubt they had their reasons, but none that he could think of at that moment.

Both had more sense than that, or so Dixon assumed.

Once inside the TOC, Dixon saw his battalion commander talking to both the brigade commander and the S-3. First Lieutenant Matthews was over in one corner talking to the battalion S-2.

Dixon's commander looked up and smiled. "Scott, I thought I heard you bellow. I was going over our dispositions with Colonel Hardin. He seems concerned that we haven't occupied all of our forward positions yet."

Dixon walked up to the situation map. "As we explained during the brief of our OP LAN back on the fifth, we will not move into our actual fighting positions until either the enemy has committed himself into the attack or we lose our ability to detect him before he enters our sector here along Phase Line Thomas." On the situation map Dixon ran his finger along a black line located in the battalion's forwardmost area. "By keeping away from our actual fighting positions we make it difficult for the enemy to accurately predict where our kill zones and battle positions are. Hopefully, this will dilute his preparatory bombardment and keep him guessing as to where we are until it's too late for him to react-."

The brigade commander, with arms folded, leaned back in his chair and studied the map for a moment before speaking. "You two may be right.

No doubt the Russians have been studying us under a microscope, using everything from satellites to goat herders I would, however, feel a hell of a lot more comfortable if you had more firepower forward.

Besides, as it stands right now, there's no one that can cover your mine fields and barriers. Intell tells us the other side have been good at picking their way through barriers before the battle starts."

Without waiting for his commander to respond, Dixon said, "The scout platoon, reinforced with a tank platoon, is more than sufficient to cover the entire battalion's frontage, day or night. Vehicles rotate their positions nightly so that the Soviets can't plot them and plan infiltration routes around them. At night, all barriers are covered by dismounted elements from the mech platoons, as well as one tank or Bradley deployed forward to scan the area with its thermal sight. The techniques we are using worked well for the battalion at the National Training Center and should do well here."

The brigade commander leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees.

"This isn't the NTC, Major Dixon. Those people closing on us are the real thing."

Dixon could feel himself getting excited. The thoughts that ran through his mind didn't help: Here we are, with the same plan we briefed two days ago.

The enemy is expected to make contact anytime, and the brigade commander wants us to change now, in the middle of the night, before our first battle. He's got to be bullshitting us.

He allowed himself to calm down before answering. "You are right, sir, this is not the NTC. I therefore expect the plan to work better, since this will be the first time the Soviets have come across a heavy U.S. unit."

Switching to the attack, he continued. "Our concern at battalion is the air assault unit to the west. The large wadi that leads from Harvand to Tarom provides the Soviets with an excellent avenue of approach into our rear and across the brigade's main supply route. If we are hit with a supporting attack and the main attack here," Dixon pointed to Harvand on the map, "we would be unable to displace sufficient combat power to stop a major breakthrough." The battalion commander shot a dirty look to Dixon. They had been over the subject before, and it was becoming a sore point for the brigade commander.

"Dixon, the 1st of the 503rd Infantry will hold. I've been over their plan with their battalion commander and have walked the ground. They know what they are doing." The brigade commander was clearly agitated.

Dixon was about to state that none of the units in the 12th Division had yet stopped a Soviet attack, but he was cut short by the brigade S-3, who reminded the brigade commander they had to get back for a meeting with the 13 Corps commander.

As the meeting broke up, First Lieutenant Matthews, who apparently was traveling with the brigade S-3, came over to Dixon. "Have you seen Randy,

I mean Lieutenant Capell, lately, sir?"

Dixon's anger left him as he looked into Matthews' eyes. "Yes, I just came from there. Randy is doing fine. He's happier than a pig in slop. Do you have a message you want me to give him?"

A smile lit Matthews' face. She reached down into a pocket of her BDUs, pulled out a crumpled letter and offered it to Dixon. "Would you give this to him, sir?"

With a grin, Dixon took the letter. "Sure, and I'll tell him you send all your love."

That made Matthews blush. She saluted, turned and hurried out to where the brigade S-3 was waiting.

When everyone but the people on shift had cleared out of the TOC, Master Sergeant Nesbitt came out of the S-3 M577 command track, carrying two steaming cups. "Looks like you could use some coffee."

Dixon took the cup offered by Nesbitt and began to shake his head in disbelief. "What I need is a good drink, Sergeant Nesbitt. Can you imagine that? The bloody Communists are close enough to spit on us, and the brigade commander wants to change things." He stopped, took a drink of coffee and thought for a moment before continuing. "Well, twenty-four hours from now we'll know who was right."

"You staying here tonight or going back forward?" "I really should go back out, but I won't. I need to 222 clean up some and get some sleep.

You got anything worth a damn to eat around here, Sergeant Nesbitt?"

Nesbitt went back into the command track and returned with two brown plastic pouches. "You have a choice tonight, sir. Pork patties or chicken a la king."

A disgusted look crept across Dixon's face. "Then the answer is no, you don't have anything worth a damn to eat."

"Well, sir, it's your choice, malnutrition or indigestion. I have them both."

"A comedian. I'm starving to death and I get a comedy act. Give me the chicken A la king. At least I know what that used to be." Dixon took the brown pouch offered by Nesbitt, tucked it under his arm and left after reminding the duty officer where he would be and when to wake him.

With everyone else gone, the people on duty in the TOC settled down for what promised to be a long and busy night.

In the gathering darkness the shadowy area between the opposing forces began to come to life. The Soviet juggernaut, long awaited by the 2nd Brigade, had finally come within striking distance. Rather than crashing into the forward elements of the brigade, the lead Soviet forces slowed, then stopped for reconnaissance. The Soviets knew the approximate front-line trace of the American forces but not exact unit and vehicle locations. Reconelements and patrols would now creep forward under the veil of darkness to verify what information they had and pin exact locations of vehicles and weapons.

Plans at the operational level had been made by the 28th Combined Arms Army and issued the day before. Its subordinate divisions had, in turn, deployed in accordance with the army's orders and issued their own to their regiments. Regimental commanders and staffs decided on the tactical deployment their units would use 223 and issued orders for the execution of those tactics.

The exact axis of attack and timing of deployments as well as targeting would be based on intelligence gathered by patrols working their way into the midst of the Americans' positions. At an early-morning briefing just before the attack, the regimental intelligence officers would present a complete picture of U.S. forces to their front. With that information, the regimental commander would issue his final orders for the attack.

Forward of their main defensive positions, both American battalions deployed their scout platoons as a counter-reconnaissance screen. The mission of the scouts was to keep the Soviet recon elements from infiltrating into the battalions' area of operations and deceive them as to where the main defensive positions really were. The success or failure of the attack hinged on the skills of a handful of men sneaking about in the dark.

With darkness upon them, Capell signaled his scout platoon to move into their night positions, which stretched across the small valley that was the battalion's front. His squad leaders knew where to go and what to do. The tank platoon attached to him as part of the screen moved into shallow holes scooped out of the dirt in the center of the battalion's sector; though spread out with a distance of four hundred meters between tanks, the platoon was able to cover the entire center with surveillance and direct fire.

Two ground-surveillance radar teams, called GSRs, each equipped with a radar capable of detecting moving personnel at four thousand meters and moving vehicles at ten thousand, also were operating with Capell's scouts.

Only a few wadis and cuts along the flanks could not be covered by the M-1 tanks or the GSRs. That was where the scout platoon set up.

Capell and his men had no sooner moved into positions than a GSR team reported two wheeled vehicles eight thousand meters to their front.

Several minutes of tracking them left no doubt in Capell's mind that they were BRDMs of the Soviet regiment's recon company. Though he had sufcient information to call artillery on them, Capell held back. He wanted to see where they were 224 going without the Soviets knowing they were being tracked. At a range of five thousand meters, the two vehicles split up. One disappeared into a wadi that ran down the American battalion's western flank. The other moved forward slowly along the eastern flank, still being tracked by the GSR. The scout section on the western flank was notified of the approaching BRDM and was ordered to take it out. The tanks were able to track the other BRDM on the eastern flank with their thermal sights. They had the task of taking it out when the scouts hit the first BRDM.

Now began a deadly game of cat and mouse as the scouts waited for the BRDM to pop into view. There was always the possibility that the BRDM in the wadi would find cover and slip past Capell's waiting scouts. If that happened, the Soviets would be able to get into the battalion's main defensive areas. Capell worried about this but trusted his initial dispositions. Besides, it was too late to change them.

Across the valley from where Capell was, the low hills were suddenly lit up by the flash of a small cannon firing somewhere down in the wadi. As he slewed the turret of his Bradley in that direction, the pop-pop-pop report of a Bradley's 25mm. gun reached his location.

Watching, Capell saw a series of tiny flashes, then the eruption of a fireball. The first BRDM had been hit and killed.

The crack of a tank cannon and the streak of a 105mm. HEAT antitank round tore Capell's attention away from the burning BRDM in the far wadi. The tank crews had not waited for the order to fire. Instead, they had seized the opportunity to kill the second BRDM. A flash and a brilliant shower of sparks signaled to Capell that they had succeeded.

When silence returned to the valley, Capell called for all sections to report. This they did promptly. Capell in turn consolidated the information into one short, concise spot report and submitted the first of many sightings and contacts that night to battalion.

The staff of the 28th CAA's main command post had spent a good part of the day recovering from an early afternoon air attack. A group of F-15s had hit both the headquarters and a fuel dump four kilometers south of it. Losses in men and equipment had been heavy. Fortunately the commander and the first officer, Colonel Sulvina, had been absent at the time. Upon their return, they found their once efficient and orderly command post the scene of pandemonium and despair. The chief of staff, though alive, had been stunned by the concussion of a general-purpose bomb and was temporarily out of action. Until he recovered, Sulvina assumed the role of chief of staff.

Once order had been restored and the staff was sufficiently recovered from their shock, Sulvina had each primary and special staff officer prepare an update for the commander. He wanted to review the army's plan and capability once more before the battle was joined.

The second officer outlined all current intelligence on the enemy.

Reports from the division's recon that night had not yet had time to reach army headquarters. A more complete picture would be ready just before the attack at dawn. The logistics officer, always harried, presented a picture of gloom. Based on statistics on hand and projected, the army did not have sufficient ammunition to conduct more than one major breakthrough attack.

He stressed that raids and attacks all along their supply routes were not only keeping ammunition from reaching the army in the quantities needed but were degrading the army's ability to supply itself at all.

Each time an ambush hit a supply column, trucks that were needed to haul future supplies were also lost. Even more critical than the ammunition shortage was the fuel situation. The logistics officer stated that the Americans were hitting anything that looked like a fuel dump, and he warned that unless the situation improved dramatically the army would run out of fuel within ninety-six hours.

Sulvina waited to discuss the next day's assault until he was alone with the commander. The 127th Motorized Rifle Division would conduct the main attack through Harvand against light-infantry units. Once the breakthrough was achieved, the 33rd Tank Division would be passed through the 127th MRD, probably in the vicinity of Tarom by midmorning.

A supporting attack by the 67th Motorized Rifle Division would hold the American armored brigade in place around Hajjiabad until the 33rd Tank Division was able to cut them off and isolate them.

If all went according to plan, Sulvina said, the American brigade facing them would be crushed in the next twenty-four hours. If the flow of fuel was not diminished any further, they would be able to reach the Strait of Hormuz, seize Bandar Abbas and complete their mission. If, however, anything went wrong, there was little hope for success. All the divisions in the 28th Combined Arms Army were wearing thin. Not only were supplies problem, but equipment and personnel were also at a critical level.

The 17th Combined Arms Army and the 9th Tank Army, whose assigned mission was to push through the 28th when the 28th could no longer advance, were no longer following. Instead, their divisions were diverted to other tasks.

The puppet government that had been set up to run the Soviet Republic of Azerbaijan was unable to control the Turkic tribes and required two full divisions to maintain order in Tabriz and other towns. Another division was tied down in Tehran chasing the shadows of Iranian rebels.

The majority of the 17th CAA was stretched between Tehran and Kerman, fighting remnants of the Iranian Islamic Revolutionary Guard and pro-U.S. Iranian groups being supplied by air. In short, there was no one except the well-worn 28th CAA left to finish the mission.

For better than an hour Sulvina and his commander discussed the situation and their options. In the end, at Sulvina's urging, the commander gave him permission to draft and transmit a message to the Front Commander recommending that the 28th CAA be authorized to employ chemical weapons.

Sulvina, upon leaving his commander returned to his small work area, where he pulled a prepared message from his field desk. He called the duty officer over, handed him the original copy of the message and instructed him to have it transmitted to Front Headquarters immediately. He then called in the assistant operations officer, the intelligence officer, the chemical officer and the artillery officer. He told them to prepare a list of targets that were vulnerable to chemical attack and present it to him for his review and approval by 0600 hours that morning.

After checking the situation reports and the most current intelligence one more time, Sulvina was satisfied that all was in order. With nothing more to do, he left word to wake him in four hours and then went to get some sleep. The next forty-eight hours were going to be critical and hard. The first thing in the morning he would begin to plan the next battle, the one that would take the 28th CAA to the Persian Gulf.

The reduction in the level of activity hadn't been noticeable at first.

In fact, it wasn't until shortly before 0400 hours that Capell realized that the Soviets were withdrawing and that the number of reports had been declining for the past hour. Even then he didn't attach any special meaning to that fact. His mind, like everyone else's, was running at half speed from stress, fatigue and lack of sleep. The reduction in action was greeted with relief and not questioned or considered suspect. Only the assistant intelligence officer at brigade, Lieutenant Matthews, saw the pattern.

Together with the report from airborne surveillance radars, she made the correct assessment. The patrols and the probing were over. The Soviets were about to attack.

The warning to prepare for a major Soviet attack going down to the battalions coincided with reports coming up from the scouts of the 2nd Brigade that the movement of large numbers of tracked vehicles could be heard. In the sector of the 3rd of the 4th Armor, tank crewmen and infantry squads scrambled onto their vehicles. Without waiting for or needing permission to move, company commanders rolled their platoons from their hiding positions into fighting positions. Members of the command group, woken with great difficulty, listened intently while they dressed to an update of the current situation given by the intelligence and operations officers who had been on duty during the night. Outside, their armored vehicles were being cranked up.

Within minutes the entire battalion was in motion, winding itself up for the impending battle.

The Soviet artillery bombardment came just before the first rays of light began to herald the new dawn. For most men in the armored battalion the artillery barrage was nothing more than a curiosity.

Soviet intelligence and artillery officers, confused by the battalion's dispersed nature, and the seemingly random digging by engineers, erred in their targeting. Few units were hit as the Soviet artillery fell on positions where vehicles used to be. While not all companies and platoons were equally lucky, the effect of the bombardment was, on the whole, negligible. Even the Soviet smoke rounds were of little use, as the gunners in Capell's Bradleys and M-1s switched their thermal sights on and continued to scan for signs of the enemy's advance.

In the gray morning twilight, the scout section of the battalion's western flank caught the first glimpse of the advancing Soviet columns at a range of eight kilometers. A quick spot report was followed by a call for artillery fire. Within minutes, U.S. artillery rounds were thundering north. The grim task of killing was well under way.

Dixon's Bradley pulled up into its position as the scouts completed sending in their first series of corrections to the artillery. By that time the Soviet columns were within five kilometers and beginning to deploy into platoon columns. Initial reports showed that they were headed for the western flank of the battalion's sector, where Dixon was situated.

That suited him fine. The battalion, with two tank and two mechanized companies, had deployed in positions that looked like a huge horseshoe on the map. One tank pure company, Alpha Company, was deployed across the valley floor behind an antitank ditch and a mine field. A pure-mech company, Charlie Company, was deployed on the high ground to one flank, with a tank-heavy company team, Team Bravo, on the other.

The fourth company team, Team Delta, had given one tank platoon to the scouts. The other two platoons, both mech, were in positions behind the tank company in the center, which allowed them to fire their TOW missiles over the tanks.

If the Soviets continued to drive up along the western flank through the wadis there, they would have to contend with Charlie Company's dismounted infantry and face closein combat with the Bradleys' 25mm chain gun. If they went in the center, everyone would be able to fire on them. If the Soviets skirted the east, the tanks of both Team Bravo and Alpha Company would be able to deal with them, while Charlie Company's Bradleys on the west flank would have good TOW shots from across the valley.

Once the Soviets were committed, the battalion commander would have the artillery fire two scatter able mine fields, one in front of and one on top of the Soviets' column. While there was no doubt that the Soviets knew where the antitank ditch and mine field were, there was no way they could predict where and when the scatter able mines would go. If they were fired in conjunction with normal indirect artillery and mortar fire, direct fire from the tanks and the Bradleys and, if available, close air support from A-10s, the cumulative effect would be devastating.

Relentlessly the Soviets came on. Capell's scouts maintained a steady flow of reports on the Soviets' progress and actions. By the time the Soviet lead battalion deployed into lines with one company forward and others following the first, it had lost over ten vehicles to artillery and was having difficulty maintaining alignment. Capell's scout platoon and the tank platoon with them withdrew to either side of the advancing battalion without firing. Their primary mission, screening and reporting while the rest of the battalion deployed, had been accomplished. They would remain on the flanks and continue to report as Soviet follow-on battalions came into the fight.

Only when absolutely necessary would the scouts engage.

This bothered Capell. From the eastern flank he watched the Soviets moving south. His Bradley was hidden with only the turret exposed aboveground. His gunner, with the TOW launcher up and locked, was slowly tracking one of the Soviet tanks. It was a T-80 traveling by itself behind the first line of tanks and BRT-60 armored personnel carriers. It had to be the tank-company commander. For the next few seconds Capell debated whether he should ignore the order not to engage. It won't make a difference, he told himself. Who the hell's going to know?

A report from one of his section leaders broke his train of thought.

The second-echelon battalion was in sight, five kilometers behind the trail element of the first Soviet battalion. The report broke Capell's fixation on the T-80 they had been tracking and forced him to go back to his assigned tasks: observe and report.

The Soviets continued forward. Their orientation remained focused on the far-western side of the battalion sector. They were obviously headed there in an effort to skirt the antitank ditch and mine field.

Dixon could now see the Soviet companies, all fully deployed and following one behind the other, rushing toward his position. The Soviet tanks had cut on their smoke generators, creating clouds of white smoke that obscured everything behind them to the naked eye.

Thermal sights, however, cut through the diesel smoke. In another minute the lead elements would begin to encounter the broken-ground and wadi system where the dismounted infantry and the Bradleys waited. Artillery continued to fall about the Bradleys in spurts, taking its toll.

With nothing to do but wait until contact was made, Dixon began to notice small, obscure details. One of the T-80s in the lead was holding back and swerving from side to side. The tank commander, no doubt, was nervous and did not relish being with the lead element. For the first time, Dixon realized how nervous he was.

He could sympathize with that tank commander. How much easier it was to be sitting in the defense than running out across the open, knowing that everyone with an antitank missile was tracking you. Dixon looked down into his own turret. His gunner was calmly tracking a Soviet tank. Their TOW launcher was up and the ready-to-fire indicator was illuminated. All the gunner needed was one word.

The commander of Charlie Company gave that word as the lead Soviet tanks tripped across an imaginary line on the ground and entered Charlie Company's kill zone. Dixon watched as four Bradleys let fly their TOW missiles. The nervous T-80 was quickly alerted to the oncoming danger.

He fired smoke grenades and stopped moving, in an effort to screen himself.

The TOW that was targeted for him found its mark, however. The TOW gunner merely kept his thermal sight on the center mass where the T-80 had been and let the missile fly into the screen of smoke. A ball of flame followed by a rush of black smoke pushed the white smoke aside.

The T-80 was dead.

Not all the T-80s died from their first hits. Reactive armor, explosives in small metal boxes arrayed in front of the turrets of the T-80s, detonated with thunderous explosions and in some cases prevented the TOWS' warheads from penetrating the tanks' main armor. Dixon was amazed that crews were able to survive such a cataclysmic explosion.

Some did, rolling on, trailing a thin veil of smoke from smoldering scraps and hot steel. These successes were normally short-lived, however, as other TOWs marked the same tank and bored through. In less than a minute, all four lead tanks were burning or stopped: With the tanks gone, the Soviet BTRs came rolling out from under the smokescreen generated by the tanks. Their alignment was gone as they drove past burning tanks or zigzagged in an effort to confuse the Bradleys' TOW antitank guided missiles. But the Bradley gunners were not confused by the evasive maneuvers, and the BTRs, not protected by reactive armor, were easy prey: most of the TOW missiles found their mark and took their toll.

Despite the demise of the lead company, the next Soviet motorized rifle company rolled forward, past the foundering lead company. The second company had only two tanks in the lead and five BTRs. Artillery had already made its inroads. The folly of the Soviet deployment in column manifested itself as the second and third companies were, in their turn, smashed by

Charlie Company. Rather than hit in mass, the Soviets had presented themselves a little at a time. It reminded Dixon of watching a butcher feed meat into a grinder. Though each motorized rifle company drew closer to Charlie Company in its turn and was finally able to return fire, this gained it nothing but a quicker death as the 25mm chain guns came into play.

For a moment, there was a pause. The firing died down but did not completely stop. A few of the BTRs had made it into the wadis and their infantry had dismounted. A fight, pitting Soviet infantrymen supported by their BTR armored personnel carriers against Charlie Company's infantrymen and their Bradleys, now developed in the broken ground and wadis along the western flank of the American battalion's sector. Charlie Company had more than enough people and firepower to decide the issue if the Soviets were not reinforced. Dixon listened to the reports from the scouts as the second Soviet motorized rifle battalion entered the sector of the 3rd of the 4th Armor.

The Soviet second-echelon battalion apparently did not know that the first battalion had gained a foothold in the wadis. Instead of rushing forward and adding its weight to that fight, it rolled down along the eastern flank. The only reasonable explanation was that the regimental commander, surprised at the strength encountered in the west, had decided to try the left, hoping to find it lightly defended. Since the eastern side of the 3rd of the 4th Armor's sector was more open, the Soviets were able to deploy two companies forward, with the second company close enough to the first to support it by fire. The same openness also allowed the 3rd of the 4th to 235 mass the firepower of the remaining company and two teams, with telling effect. Once the Soviets were committed, Dixon called for the artillery to fire scatter able mines. These mines, in conjunction with the antitank ditch and the mines already in place, slowed and disrupted the well-orchestrated Soviet battle drill. Despite large volumes of artillery- and tank-generated smoke, efforts to breach the obstacles were frustrated by accurate M-1 tank fire. Soviet mine rollers and plows, along with MTU bridge layers, were destroyed as soon as they ventured forward.

T-80 tanks standing off and attempting to provide cover fire for the mine rollers and plows were, in their turn, destroyed. Seeing no way around the obstacle and little chance of bulling through, the Soviets began to withdraw.

As the battle began to ebb, Dixon's assistant called him on the radio and asked if he had been monitoring the brigade-command frequency.

Dixon, caught up in the battalion's fight, had not. The assistant S-3 reported that the brigade was having difficulty contacting the 1st of the 503rd Infantry. That battalion had reported earlier that it was being hit by tanks and BMPs, and after several sketchy reports it had stopped answering the brigade's calls.

Dixon was concerned. If the infantry battalion had been hit by a regiment equipped with BMPs, odds were that the main effort was going in against the 503rd and not the 3rd of the 4th Armor. The fight that was dying out to his front was probably nothing more than a supporting attack whose purpose was to divert attention while the Soviets broke through the infantry battalion.

Dixon contacted his commander and relayed his conclusions. The battalion commander concurred and, in turn, contacted the brigade commander, with the result that the armored battalion was instructed to make physical contact with the 1st of the 503rd Infantry and clarify the situation over there.

With the scouts forward, Charlie Company still flushing out the Soviet survivors, and the battalion commander needed in the battalion sector, it was up to Dixon to make that contact. Besides, Dixon knew where the two battalions'

designated contact points were. Without giving it further thought, he ordered his driver to back the Bradley out of its position.

Even after the Bradley had moved into the infantry sector-having avoided enemy fire by traveling along covered and concealed routes-it inched along with caution. Since they were approaching the other battalion's positions from the rear and were five kilometers from where the front line should be, they had more to fear from a nervous U.S. infantryman armed with an antitank rocket launcher than from the Soviets.

As they moved forward through a narrow, twisting wadi, Dixon had a crewman in the rear compartment switch the radio to the battalion-command frequency of the 1st of the 503rd Infantry and attempted to raise someone on that net. There was no response. After three unsuccessful attempts, he decided to try a company command net in that battalion. Just as Dixon lowered himself onto his seat inside the turret and pulled out his code book to look up the company frequencies, his gunner screamed, "Jesus Christ! Back up-no, driver, stop! On the waaay!" This was immediately followed by a long burst of 25mm cannon fire as the gunner held his trigger down, pumping out rounds.

Dixon was startled. He looked at his gunner, who had now stopped firing, and shouted at him without keying the intercom, "What the fuck are you doing?"

The gunner didn't answer, but kept his eye glued to his sight. Then it dawned upon Dixon what had happened. Letting the code book fall to the floor, he popped his head up out of the turret and looked in the direction the 25mm gun was pointed. To their front, at a range of less than twenty meters, was a burning Soviet BMP, its 30mm gun aimed at Dixon.