Sword Point

Chapter 4

Fort Hood, Texas 1445 Hours, 3 June (2045 Hours, 3 June, GMT) The two target panels rose up and locked into place. The crew of the MI tank, however, did not see them until the control-tower personnel set off, by remote control, at the target locations, explosives known as the hostile simulators. The flash and the puff of smoke from the simulators brought an immediate reaction from the crew.

Slewing the turret toward the targets by using his control handle, the tank commander began to issue his fire command. "Gunner, Sabot. Two tanks-left tank."

With his eye to the primary sight, the gunner searched until he saw the targets while his right hand danced across the face of the primary sight's control panel, arming the main gun, switching the ammo-select lever to SABOT and coming to rest on the magnification level. Without bothering to key the intercom, he yelled, "Identified!" as soon as the targets came into his field of vision. He then switched his sight to a higher magnification and began to track his first target.

The commander let go of his control and turned to watch just as the loader finished arming the main gun, moved out of its path of recoil, and in his turn announced, Up.,The tank commander shouted, "Fire!"

It was now up to the gunner and the driver. As the driver strove to maintain steady speed and course, the gunner laid the gun sight onto the center mass of the target. When he had a good sight picture, he hit the laser range-finder thumb switch. Before he could remove his thumb from the switch, the range readout appeared at the bottom of the sight. A quick mental comparison of the size of the target and the indicated range showed that the range was about right. Satisfied, the gunner re laid onto the center mass of the target, yelled, "On the waaay," and squeezed the trigger on his right control handle.

Nothing. Nothing happened. The gunner announced, "Misfire. On the waaay."

With that, he pulled the trigger on his left control handle. Again, nothing. "Shit! Misfire!"

It was now the tank commander's turn to try. Grabbing his control handle and crouching down so that he could view through his sight extension, the tank commander laid the sight onto the target's center of mass, hit the laser range-finder switch and watched for the readout.

Satisfied that he had a good range and sight picture, he announced,

"From my position-on the waaay," and pulled the trigger.

Nothing. The tank continued to roll down the course road. The tank commander continued to track the targets. And the targets continued to stand, un hit Totally frustrated, the tank commander ordered the driver to stop, then called the tower to inform them that he had to clear a misfire.

In the control tower Major Scott Dixon pounded his fist on the table and let out a stream of obscenities. This was the third run that day that they had failed to complete. With their own equipment en route to the Persian Gulf, the units of the 25th Armored Division had to train on borrowed stuff while they waited to be flown over. The whole arrangement was less than ideal. What they received from the Armor School was already well used when it arrived at Fort Hood. No doubt the Armor School was careful to keep the better equipment to meet its own surge in training. Continuous use by different units did not permit serious preventive maintenance. The result was a high number of malfunctions and mechanical failures that frustrated the battalion's attempts to prepare for combat.

The officer in charge of the range turned to Dixon. "Do we let him continue or pull him off?"

Without looking at the officer, Dixon thought for a moment before answering. "See if he can clear it through the tube. If not, pull him back and have maintenance find out what the problem with that one is.

In the meantime, push them through as fast as you can. We only have the rest of today and tomorrow to finish the battalion, and we aren't even halfway through." Then Dixon turned to the young captain and asked, "Paul, do you think you can get 'em all through?"

Captain Paul Tait, the battalion S-3 Air, tried to think of something witty to come back with, but couldn't. He simply replied that he would do his damnedest. With that, Dixon left the tower, signaling his driver to crank up his hummer-the new M-998 high-mobility multipurpose wheeled vehicle, or HMMWV. He didn't know for sure where he was going to go. Wherever he went, it had to be more productive than standing around on the range watching tanks break down and, as the crews said, "go tits up."

Hopefully the battalion was getting something from the crash training they were conducting instead of merely marking time while waiting for deployment.

Fort Campbell, Kentucky 1735 Hours, 4 June (2335 Hours, 4 June, GMT) Like clockwork the two A-10 ground-attack aircraft came rolling in on their run and began to fire on the crest of a hill. From the concealment of a stand of pine trees, four M-113 armored personnel carriers of a mech infantry platoon came rolling out. One thousand meters to their right, the gun tubes from four M-60A3 tanks poked out and began to belch fire as they also engaged targets on the hill that was their final objective. The A-10s had by now turned and were making their second, and last, run in, firing their 30mm. GAU-8 gun along the length of the hill. Satisfied with the results of their effort, they overflew the control vehicles, wiggling their wings as they skimmed along at treetop level.

No sooner had the aircraft cleared the area than 155mm. artillery firing high-explosive and white phosphorus rounds began to hit the hill. The first mech infantry platoon was joined by a second platoon that followed it out from the tree line and came up on its left.

Together, the two platoons advanced on their objective as the tanks and the artillery continued to work it over. This continued until the M-113s of the two mech platoons reached a predesignated point less than five hundred meters from the hill.

When they did, the artillery-fire-support officer issued a curt order to the firing battery. On cue, the guns lifted and shifted fires to a new target beyond the hill. The tanks continued to fire, but now concentrated on targets on either side of their objective.

With the fire lifted and only two hundred meters to go, the M-113s stopped and dropped their ramps. Infantrymen of the Tennessee National Guard came pouring out, running to either side of the M-113s in staggered lines. On signal, the M-113s and the lines of infantry began to advance. Only when the dismounted troops and the M113s masked the tanks' fields of fire did they cease fire. The track commanders of the M-113s stood upright, firing their.50-caliber machine guns while the dismounted infantry fired from the hip as they went into the dust and smoke that now shrouded the hill.

From their observation point the battalion commander and the executive officer of the 2nd Battalion, 354th Infantry, watched the end of the last run of the day of the company combined-arms live fire exercise.

Turning to his XO, the battalion commander asked why they had never been able to do that in Tennessee. The XO, Major Ed Lewis, simply stated, "When the Army got serious about sending the unit to war, all kinds of wonderful things were possible. The last ten days are ample proof of that."

After being mobilized, the battalion had assembled at Fort Campbell in accordance with its mobilization plans. Surprisingly, its first mission was to prepare its equipment and ship it to New Orleans for embarkation. This was quickly accomplished, but left the unit nothing to complete its post mobilization training with. Initially, the battalion had been slated to move immediately to Fort Hood to join its parent Active Army unit, the 2nd Brigade, 25th Armored Division. This, however, was canceled. Fort Hood was already overcrowded with units trying to train with small amounts of borrowed equipment. Instead, the 2nd Battalion of the 354th Infantry was left at Campbell. Heated discussions between the unit commander, the state, the National Guard Bureau and anyone who would listen did not change the ill-conceived peacetime mobilization plan.

Instead of training for war with its parent unit, the battalion was left to its own device", training in isolation while the rest of the 25th Division rushed to complete its preparation for war.

Training at Fort Campbell, however, did have its advantages. With the 12th Infantry Division in the throes of deploying, there were plenty of maneuver areas and ranges available. The 2nd of the 354th, being a round-out unit and high on the deployment list, had a higher priority over other Guard and Reserve units assembling at Campbell. Equipment, including a fully manned tank company with which to train, was borrowed from the Kentucky National Guard. Although the personnel carriers were the old M-113s instead of the M-2 Bradleys, they were better than nothing.

In addition to equipment, ammunition for live fire training was not a problem. Whatever the 12th Division left at the ammo storage point on Campbell was given to the 2nd of the 354th. It was in live fire training that the battalion spent most of its time. The commander felt that the men needed to get used to handling their weapons and getting the feel for what it would be like when everyone was blasting away. Men who had been assigned to the unit as TOW and Dragon antitank-guided-missile gunners for years finally had an opportunity to fire a live missile. Sometimes the results were quite embarrassing, as when the shock of firing their first live missile caused the gunners to jump and send the missile spiraling into the ground. As Lewis, the battalion XO and full-time training officer, said, "Better to miss at Campbell and be embarrassed than miss in Iran and be dead."

While training was progressing well, Lewis was worried about what was coming next. It was all well and good to get their equipment off to the Persian Gulf as soon as possible; and, likewise, using the time while the equipment was in transit for post mobilization training made sense.

It was the act of getting the men and the equipment together again that concerned Lewis. To off load the ships in Iran, the Army needed at least one secure and functional seaport. Likewise, to get the troops in, a secure and functional airfield was needed in close proximity to the seaport. More than that, the air over these facilities had to be relatively free of enemy air activity. It would do no good to have all the equipment arrive in port and have the people who were to man it spattered on a runway in Iran by a hotshot Russian jet-fighter jock as the transport plane came in for a landing. A lot of coordination between the Army, the Navy and the Air Force needed to happen. to make this operation work.

There was serious work to do, however, right there at Fort Campbell.

What happened in Iran was still in the future. Lewis' main concern at that moment was to prepare the battalion for battle as best he could.

Success or failure of the deployment phase of the operation was in the hands of other people, people he would never know. As his jeep, also borrowed from the Kentucky National Guard, bounced along the tank trail back to battalion headquarters, Lewis flipped through the unit training schedules for the next day to ensure that everything had been coordinated and set. There was precious little time for screwups.

In any profession there are requirements and duties that are necessary and important but unpleasant. Often, as an unwritten rule, these jobs are given to the most junior man. This practice is passed off as being part of the new man's development, while in fact it is nothing more than passing off a dirty chore to someone else. An equally common practice is to continue passing off unpleasant duties until there is no one else to push the duty off onto. The Army is probably the greatest practitioner of this method of dealing with its dirty little jobs. Junior Lieutenant Nikolai Ilvanich knew this from his training as a cadet and a junior officer. It was part of the system. This rationalization, however, did not make his current task any easier.

Since being relieved by the 28th CAA, the 285th Guards Airborne Regiment had been recovering and reorganizing. Ilvanich's company was typical of the condition of the regiment as a whole. The company had dropped into Tabriz with seven officers and seventy-eight enlisted men.

After six days of sustained combat, there were only two officers and thirty-three enlisted men who were not dead or wounded when the ground forces finally arrived.

The 285th Regiment's parent division was equally depleted, requiring reorganization and amalgamation of units. During this effort, the 285th was assigned garrison and patrol duties in and around Tabriz while the 28th CAA continued to advance south and west.

One of these duties was the apprehension and punishment of Iranians who violated the curfew. The punishment was death. Ilvanich did not realize what he and his men would be required to do when he reported to the garrison headquarters on the afternoon of the fourth. He was taken to a KGB major who would brief him and supervise him and his platoon during the performance of their duties. The KGB major was relatively young, Ilvanich guessed not more than thirty-two. He stood a bit over six foot and had a medium build. His looks and dress were average. But the fact that he was KGB made him different, a difference that one did not dare forget.

At first Ilvanich thought that his men were to be prison guards.

Slowly, as the KGB major talked, it dawned upon him that he was going to lead a firing squad and summarily execute anyone who had been apprehended for violating the curfew. Anyone, that is, who was not shot by the patrols.

When this revelation finally hit him, Ilvanich flushed. For a moment he felt lightheaded, as if he were going to faint. Then he noticed the KGB major staring at him. The major asked whether there was something wrong. livanich, mustering all the strength he could, collected himself and replied that he was simply tired, not fully recovered from his first battle. The KGB major appeared to accept that, heaping praise on the bravery and sacrifice of the airborne soldiers before carrying on with his briefing. When he got to the portion of the briefing where he described the duties of the officer in charge of the firing squad, he spoke slowly and looked into Ilvanich's eyes. The KGB major was searching for weakness or hesitation. Ilvanich returned the stare, turning his thoughts away from the task he was being given.

That night, for the first time in his career, Ilvanich struggled with his duties and his conscience. In the dark room where he was billeted, sleep did not come. He tossed and turned in his sweat-soaked bunk, trying to clear his mind and to reason out his current problem. His whole life revolved around duty to the State and the Army. The two were inseparable.

There was, in his mind, no other purpose to his life but to serve the State. He had performed, without question, his duties when he and his men were dropped into Iran. Despite the horrors, he was able to deal with what he was doing because the Iranians were the enemy, enemies of the State, armed and ready to do harm to the State. His role as an executioner, however, was different. He was being directed to shoot civilians whose sole crime was being in the street at night. Granted, some, if not most, were probably terrorists or guerrillas. But this killing was going to be different. On the front it had been so quick, so necessary. Now the process was going to be slow and the reason not so clear.

In the cool of the early morning Ilvanich paraded his firing squad.

Still unsure of himself and how he would react, he did his best to hide any show of emotion and chose his words carefully as he issued his instructions. His men quickly detected his stress and tension. But they, like their platoon leader, understood what was at stake and followed suit, doing exactly as they were told without any sign of feeling or hesitation.

The KGB major watched from a corner of the small prison courtyard as the first group of Iranians were brought out and stood against the clean whitewashed wall. His eyes were riveted on Ilvanich standing on the flank of the firing squad. Ilvanich could feel the major's eyes on him. He also felt himself getting dizzy again as he surveyed the prisoners. Of the ten people, four were women, two were boys who could not have been more than twelve years old, and one was an old man who walked with the aid of a wooden stick. How, Ilvanich thought, could any sane person consider this motley group a threat to the State? It was ludicrous. Carefully, he turned his head to where the KGB major stood leaning against the prison building, staring at him. With a simple nod, the major indicated it was time to proceed. Turning his head back to where he could face his men without seeing the people they were about to execute, Ilvanich began to give the orders.

"Ready."

His men raised their rifles to their shoulders.

"Aim."

They tucked their cheeks against the stocks of their rifles.

Ilvanich steadied himself and closed his eyes.

"Fire. "

The noise that reverberated off the courtyard walls was deafening. It caused Ilvanich to jump. Opening his eyes, he looked down the line of men as they fired. Some fired a single burst, with their eyes closed, then stopped. Others fired continuously, dipping their rifles to shoot into the bodies after they had fallen. Some fired until their entire magazines were empty.

Ilvanich did not issue an order to cease fire. He merely waited until the shooting stopped, then ordered his men to attention. While still looking along the line of his men, he reached down, unsnapped his holster and drew his pistol, holding it at shoulder level and pointed in the air. At last he turned toward the wall where the prisoners had been. The white wall was now splattered with blood and pockmarked with bullet holes. Streams of blood ran down the wall onto the ground to where the prisoners lay in a tangled heap. For a moment Ilvanich remembered the trench. His stomach muscles tightened as he felt a tinge of bile rise in his throat. He fought for and gained composure before he proceeded.

Mechanically, he marched to the wall, staring not at the bodies but at one of the bloodstains on the wall until he reached the wall. When he got there, he stopped and looked down. The first person was a young woman, not more than twenty. For a second he wondered what had caused her to become an enemy of the State.

Ilvanich turned and looked in the direction of the KGB major. The major was still in the same position, leaning casually against the building. With the same nonchalant nod, he signaled Ilvanich to continue. Without further thought, the junior lieutenant lowered his pistol and fired one round into the head of each of the bodies before him. When he was finished, he turned and marched back to his post on the flank of his firing squad while other

Iranians came out, dragged away the bodies of the first prisoners and prepared to take their place against the wall. Ilvanich did not watch.

He merely replaced the magazine in his pistol with a fresh one, returned the pistol to his holster and stood by until the next group was ready.

As he waited, he saw the KGB major give him a faint smile and a nod of approval. Ilvanich and his men had performed their duty to the State well.

Socialism in Iran was a little more secure.

The officers' club hadn't done as well as this in years. It seemed that everyone was stopping by after a tough day in the pits to undergo liquid "stress reduction." In the beginning, First Lieutenant Amanda Matthews couldn't understand why officers would want to spend all day beating themselves to death at the office and then, for relaxation, go over to the club and spend more time with the same people from the office. For the first few days she left post as soon as she could, showered, changed out of uniform and tried hard to blend into the rest of society for a few hours.

She wanted to leave the office and the grim business she dealt in on post.

The more she tried, however, the less she succeeded. As she wandered the shopping mall, Soviet orders of battle raced through her mind. She found that it was difficult to talk to her civilian friends. She felt out of place as they talked about their jobs, stereos and cars, things that now meant little to Matthews. Issues such as Soviet offensive chemical and tactical nuclear capabilities in Iran had become her all-consuming concern.

Not finding escape in the outside world, she sought at the officers' club the company of others who, like her, pondered the imponderable and needed escape.

From across the crowded lounge, another military intelligence lieutenant from the division staff beckoned her to join him. Matthews, feeling no pain after her second scotch, figured there was nothing to lose. After all, misery enjoys company.

First Lieutenant Tom Kovack was one of the more junior officers in the division G-2 shop. Although he was one of the most arrogant and conceited people she knew, he had been a very good source of back-door information for Matthews in the last ten days. She suspected his motives, for good reasons, but felt she could handle him. After all, she had three inches over him. Without rising as she came to the table, Kovack asked, "Do you always drink alone, Amanda?" Some men took seriously the fact that they were no longer commissioned "an officer and a gentleman."

"Only when there is no one worth drinking with."

"That's cold, Amanda. Besides, I'm supposed to be the conceited one."

Taking advantage of the opening, she gibed, "And so you are, I'll drink to that," and drained her glass.

She had hit him off guard and on the mark. His smirk disappeared and his ears turned red as he bit back a nasty remark. He changed subjects quickly. "You know the G-2 is beginning to lose his patience with your estimates of Iranian resistance. Do you really believe they're going to try to fight the Russians and us? I mean, it doesn't make sense."

Matthews looked at Kovack for a moment. She found it hard to believe that the two of them, with the same training and background, could look at the same information and come up with two entirely different conclusions.

"Kovack, I don't believe that even you can be so stupid. Haven't you been watching the news? Ten days after the Soviets invade their country, and with them less than a hundred and fifty miles from Tehran, the Iranians are still demonstrating against the U.S. There are just as many anti-American banners in their demonstrations as there are anti-Soviet. These people don't see any difference between us and them. They don't see any difference now and they won't see one when the first Americans land there."

With composure and confidence born from assurance of his convictions, Kovack countered her, point by point, clearly demonstrating, in his mind, the foolishness of her position. "Surely," he concluded, "once we're on the ground and they see we're there to fight the Russians and help them preserve their country, they'll flock to our side."

Matthews merely shook her head. "Kovack, you're an idiot as well as an asshole. We are dealing with fanatics. Fanatics that are part of a proud race of people. Anyone that is not a Persian or a Shiite is their enemy. No one, regardless of motivation, is going to change their minds.

They'll go down to a man before they embrace us as friends."

Leaning forward and placing his hand on her thigh, Kovack whispered, "Talking about going down and embracing friends, let's leave. The night's still young."

Matthews stood up without breaking eye contact. "Like the Iranians, I'm careful whom I pick for friends." With that she turned and walked away, followed by Kovack's taunt "I have not yet begun to fight."

With a thunderous roar, the bombardment of the Iranian positions commenced on schedule. The lead elements of the 67th Motorized Rifle Division were already unraveling from their assembly areas and deploying for the attack.

To their north, the summit of the Kuh-a Sahand looked down on the mass of Soviet armor as it moved east, converging on a single point.

The Iranians had taken their time preparing their defensive positions before the town of Kaju. The town itself was of little importance.

What did matter was the rail line that ran through it. It was the main rail line running south from Tabriz, around Kuh-a Sahand and then to Tehran. The Soviets needed it. To secure it, and the road system running south from Tabriz, the 28th CAA had split at Tabriz, with one motorized rifle division and the tank division attacking straight south along the roads while two motorized rifle divisions swung west around the Sahand to clear the rail line.

The Iranians saw this splitting of forces as an opportunity to defeat the Soviets. Everything that they could muster, including most of their pitifully small tank reserve, was concentrated either at Kaju, to block Soviet efforts to clear the rail line out of Tabriz, or at Bastanabad, to block the Soviet advance along the roads leading south from Tabriz.

The Iranians did not want to lose any more of the northwest than they had to. Besides, the farther the Soviets pushed south, the easier the terrain became. The Iranians were gambling on a winner-take-all proposition.

The Soviets, on the other hand, welcomed the stand by the Iranians.

Instead of reacting to Iranians in small, isolated ambushes, the 28th Combined Arms Army would be able to fight the kind of war it was trained and equipped for. The commander of the 28th CAA prepared to fight a battle of annihilation. His goal was to pin, trap and destroy every organized Iranian unit deployed against him. The plan was simple and well proven. It was, in fact, nothing more than an updated version of the German blitzkrieg.

Units of the 28th CAA would close up on the Iranians, feeling out their positions for weak points with air, ground and electronic reconnaissance.

Once the Iranian units had been located, weaknesses identified and command posts targeted, the point of attack would be determined and a breakthrough assault would be launched.

Soviet doctrine calls for the concentration of numerical superiority at the point of attack in attacker-defender ratios of at least five to one in infantry, four to one in tanks and seven to one in artillery.

Superiority is achieved by the use of artillery and rockets; air attacks including attack helicopters, electronic warfare including radio direction-finding and jamming on command and control nets; and masses of men and tanks on the ground. The well-orchestrated assault designed to break through the defender commences with a violent twenty-minute artillery attack at the selected point. Not only does the artillery kill some defenders and destroy equipment, it also covers the advance of the attacking force by pinning the defenders and obscuring their observation.

The main instrument for a Soviet breakthrough assault is the motorized rifle regiment. Its battalions, normally deployed two abreast in a first-attack echelon and one back as a second echelon, start in columns five to ten kilometers from the front. As a motorized rifle battalion approaches, it breaks up into company columns, with four tanks normally leading a company of ten to twelve armored personnel carriers. When the battalion reaches the five-kilometer point, it breaks down into platoon columns, with a tank leading each rifle platoon of three or four personnel carriers. Finally, at the two- to three kilometer point, the personnel carriers swing into line as the tanks cut on their on-board smoke generators, shrouding the advancing storm in smoke. All this occurs at a steady, un altering pace of twelve to twenty miles an hour. At this point, the artillery, which has been firing at a rapid rate on the enemy positions, shifts to the next series of targets. Each battalion now has twelve tanks in line, followed by thirty or more personnel carriers fifty to one hundred meters behind the tanks. If antitank fire is heavy, the infantry will dismount a few hundred meters from the enemy and assault on foot, and the tanks and the personnel carriers will follow with support fire. If the defender's fire is of little consequence, the infantry will remain mounted and the battalion will roll through the defensive positions. Once through, the attacking unit will either continue to drive deep into the enemy's rear or turn and envelop him from the rear.

In addition to the tanks and the personnel carriers, the lead motorized rifle battalion will have two to four self propelled antiaircraft guns, a battery of six self-propelled artillery guns, and antitank-guided-missile carriers immediately behind the first line of personnel carriers. This force attacks with a frontage of fifteen hundred meters, just under a mile.

Two battalions abreast would give the regiment a frontage of three thousand meters. The third battalion, or second-echelon battalion, follows at a distance of five hundred to one thousand meters behind the two lead battalions and is ready to move forward to take advantage of a success of either of them. Soviet practice is to reinforce success. A battalion that fails to break through will be left to its own devices while all support goes to one that is having success or has succeeded.

Once a clean breakthrough has been achieved, the tank battalions, regiments and finally divisions are pushed through. It is the tank unit that is viewed by the Soviets as the decisive arm that strikes deep and smashes the enemy. The motorized rifle units that did not attack will continue to hold and pin the enemy down; they are the anvil. The tanks strike deep and swing around, hitting them in the rear; they are the hammer. To the Soviets, defeat of the enemy requires more than merely gaining ground or breaking through. The enemy force in the field must be defeated in detail, or, in simple terms, annihilated, preferably to the last man.

After almost two weeks of a painfully slow advance into Iran punctuated by brief but sharp encounters with an unseen enemy, the deliberate attack was welcomed by Captain Neboatov and the men of his motorized rifle company.

Neboatov tried vainly to maintain visual contact with all of his vehicles.

The smoke created by the tanks to his front hid many of his BMP infantry-fighting vehicles from his view. From what he could see, however, all appeared to be going well. The BMPs had swung into line and were maintaining proper distance. Through brief breaks in the smoke he could see that the tanks were beginning to fire while on the move. Their fire would be very inaccurate; its primary intent in such an attack was to suppress the enemy rather than annihilate him.

With the exception of a few stray mortar rounds and an occasional wild burst of machine-gun fire, there appeared to be a total lack of return fire from the direction of the Iranian positions. Neboatov listened intently on the battalion command net for the next order. Very soon the battalion commander would need to decide whether the infantry was to remain mounted or to assault on foot. Neboatov hoped the decision would be to remain mounted. There appeared to be no need to dismount.

To do so would cost them their momentum.

Suddenly the platoon leader of the tanks leading Neboatov's company came over the net and reported he was stopped by an antitank ditch.

Neboatov swore. Though the ditch would be of little consequence, it would cost them their momentum and require his men to dismount.

Neboatov went on the air and ordered the tanks to cover and the BMPs to close up and prepare to breach the obstacle.

As his BMP pulled up next to the leader's tank, Neboatov saw the ditch.

It was ten to fifteen meters wide and two meters deep. On the lip of the far side were rolls of 74 barbed wire. No doubt there were mines in the ditch or along the lip of the far side. Without waiting any longer, he ordered his 1st Platoon to dismount, cross the ditch, secure the far side and cut lanes through the wire. The 2nd Platoon would dismount and cover the 1st Platoon from the near side of the ditch.

Although he knew that the battalion commander would already be sending an MTU armored bridge layer that could span the ditch, the 3rd Platoon was ordered to dismount with shovels and begin to knock down the side of the ditch and build ramps for crossing. Better to do something with what you had than wait for something you might never get. Neboatov himself dismounted in order to better observe and, if required, direct the efforts of his men.

His supervision, however, was not needed. As he watched, his men went about their tasks quickly and with little wasted motion even though artillery fire was beginning to fall on both sides of the ditch.

Fortunately their own artillery, firing high explosive and smoke, continued to strike just two hundred meters beyond the edge of the ditch, suppressing most of the Iranian positions and obscuring the Iranians' ability to direct artillery fire accurately onto Neboatov's company.

The 1st Platoon reached the ditch and went in with little difficulty, while the 2nd Platoon set up to provide cover. But when the 1st Platoon began to emerge on the other side and cut through the wire, effective fire hit them.

The first two men of Neboatov's company had just popped their leads up and begun to cut the wire when a well-aimed burst of machine-gun fire hit them and knocked them back into the ditch. The leader of the 2nd Platoon had managed to catch a glimpse of the Iranian machine gun's muzzle flash. He directed his machine guns to fire on it. The tracers from the 2nd Platoon's machine gun served to mark the target for a tank and the crews of two nearby BMPs. All three opened fire, the tank with its main gun and the BMPs with their 30mm. cannon. They were effective. The Iranian machine gun never fired again. With a little more caution, the men of the 1st Platoon 75 popped up again and began to cut the wire. Once spaces large enough had been cut, the platoon leader led his men through and set up a shallow arc protecting a breach they had made. By this time, the 3rd Platoon was busy knocking down the side of the ditch with their shovels. Their efforts, however, were wasted. No sooner had they succeeded in completing a ramp that would allow a vehicle to descend into the ditch than the MTU arrived.

Neboatov himself leaped up and directed the MTU to where he wanted the bridge laid. The MTU moved to the edge of the ditch and stopped across from where the 1st Platoon had cut the barbed wire. The operator settled the MTU into a good position and began to play out the bridge.

Slowly the bridge extended until it reached across the ditch. When its far edge was past the far lip of the ditch, the operator allowed the bridge to drop into place.

Then he disconnected the MTU from the bridge and backed away. Now the tanks began to cross, joining the 1st Platoon's perimeter. When all the tanks were on the other side, Neboatov ordered the 2nd and 3rd Platoons to remount and go over the bridge. As each platoon went over, the little bridgehead expanded until the entire company was on line again. The company moved forward slowly; Neboatov needed to give the rest of the battalion time to cross.

With the antitank ditch breached, the Iranian front lines, lacking sufficient antitank weapons, began to crumble. It was not noticeable at first. The tanks and the artillery from both sides were still creating so much dust and smoke that no one could get a good feel for exactly what was happening. Initially the commanders in the lead vehicles could see only a few hundred meters to either side and submitted only the sketchiest reports. Soon, however, there was a noticeable drop in the volume of fire being directed against them. As the first echelon of Soviet tanks and BMPs rolled through the Iranian positions and continued on, the firing stopped altogether with the exception of random artillery and mortar rounds. Even those stopped as the second-echelon battalion of the regiment reached the point of breakthrough.

Within thirty minutes of the commencement of the attack, the issue had been decided. Five days of work and the best forces the Iranians could muster had failed to stop the Soviet advance. The realization of this and the effects of being pounded by artillery took the fight out of many of the Iranians who watched the Russian tanks roll by.

Individually, and then in small groups, the Iranians left their positions and walked, crawled or ran to what they thought to be the rear and safety. The safety they sought was illusory, however, as the Soviet division commander committed his tank regiment to strike deep and smash any semblance of organization the Iranians had left.

The 28th Combined Arms Army finally was able to realize the success that had been eluding it and to achieve a victory which proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Iranian Army could not and would not be able to stop it. Tehran now seemed to be within easy grasp, and reaching the army's final goal, the Strait of Hormuz, only a matter of time and logistics.

The sharp report of the evening gun just outside his office window broke

Lieutenant General Weir's train of thought. He had been studying so intently the material spread across his desk that he had not heard the duty officer play "Call to the Colors" over the outside PA system.

Slowly Weir rose and went over to the window. He looked out across the front of Building where the MPs were taking down the post flag. Another day had ended. Our last day of peace, Weir thought. For a while.

When the flag had been lowered, he glanced at his watch. Some quick calculations gave him the time in Egypt and Iran. He turned his head toward his desk and looked for a moment at the plan for the invasion of Iran, then turned back to stare out the window. As he watched the cars passing below him, carrying their operators home from work, he knew that somewhere over

Saudi Arabia transport aircraft were lumbering northeast toward their objective, carrying their human cargo to war. Off the coast, a Navy task force carrying a Marine amphibious brigade would be making its final course change and beginning its run into its line of departure.

In less than four hours, all hell would break loose as the United States committed ground forces in Iran.

Weir understood his corps's role and the intent of the Commander in Chief, Central Command. He and his staff had gone over the plan again and again.

Each reading, however, did little to improve it as far as Weir was concerned. The 17th Airborne Division had the mission of seizing Bandar Abbas, an important seaport located at the head of the Strait of Hormuz. The 6th Marine Division had the task of seizing the port of Chah Bahar, located on the Gulf of Oman. Both divisions had the task of securing a lodgement on the Iranian mainland and preparing their respective ports to receive reinforcements and supplies. Until those ports could be made ready to receive and off load ships, everything would have to come in by air or over the beach. Weir knew that large-scale operations could not be sustained indefinitely that way.

That, however, was only the beginning. The follow-on forces of the 13th Airborne Corps would take more than three weeks to arrive after the initial assault. Once ashore, the assembled units had to move north, establish a perimeter and hold it against anything the Russians, and the Iranians, cared to throw against it, until the heavy forces arrived. These forces, namely Weir's 10th Corps, depended on the ports and the sea-lanes, sea-lanes patrolled by Soviet warships. Whether or not the Soviets would actively interfere was still unknown. To Weir, the whole plan was shaky.

Too much depended on precise timing and optimum conditions. The 10th Corps was already starting at a disadvantage, depending on a line of communications that stretched over twelve thousand miles on exposed sea-lanes while its main adversary was less than a thousand kilometers by land from his homeland. If the 10th Corps was delayed or the Soviets made better time than anticipated, the 13th Airborne Corps would be unable to hold them for long.

A knock at his office door gave Weir an excuse to turn his mind away from his troubled thoughts. His aide opened the door slightly and announced that Major Jones had arrived for his 1700 hour office call. Weir looked at his watch again, then told his aide to send the major in.

Major Percy Jones, British Army, entered the room, walked forward, stopped, and saluted with the palm of his hand facing out in the manner of the British forces. "Major Jones reporting as ordered, sir." Jones was an exchange officer assigned to the 25th Armored Division. An American major was serving in a similar capacity in a British unit in Germany.

Weir motioned to a chair. "Have a seat, Major."

Weir's aide brought two cups of coffee from the outer office and set one of them on a small table next to the chair where Jones was seating himself.

The aide handed the other cup to Weir. With a slight nod, Weir dismissed the aide, who left, closing the door on his way out.

Weir sat down in a chair across from Jones, sipped his coffee and began.

"I have just been informed that Her Majesty's Government has agreed to join the United States and France in our upcoming operations in Iran.

An armored brigade, currently slated to be attached to this corps, has been assigned to the Allied Expeditionary Force, along with units of the Royal Navy and the Royal Air Force. Until further notice, you are being reassigned to my staff as an adviser and liaison officer."

Weir paused for a moment and let that sink in before he continued. "One of the primary reasons I want you on my staff is the fact that one of the regiments in the armored brigade is the 7th Royal Tank Regiment."

Jones, calm and businesslike until then, was startled by that bit of information. He belonged to the 7th RTR. His father had belonged to that regiment and had fought with it during World War II. To him, as to most British officers, the regiment was a home, a family, a tradition. The thought that his regiment was going to go to war without him was staggering.

Weir continued. "Though it will be some time before we, and the 7th RTR, actually make it to Iran, I want you 79 to start working with the rest of my staff and provide them with everything we need to know so that we can integrate the brigade into the corps. I am particularly concerned about logistical support of that unit. Your assistance there will be critical."

For a moment, there was an awkward silence. Although Jones had been looking at the General, it was obvious that he had not been listening to what Weir said. Jones blinked and then spoke, hesitantly at first.

"I am terribly sorry, General, I was just absorbing the news you have given me. It's all rather sudden. Expected, yes, but still it's quite a surprise. You do understand, don't you?"

Weir leaned back in his chair and nodded. "Yes, I am still having difficulty believing we are actually going."

Again hesitantly, Jones continued. "With all due respect, General, and fully understanding your needs, I must insist on being relieved from my current posting, to rejoin my regiment. This will be the first action the regiment will see since 1945."

"I appreciate your desire to rejoin your unit. I expected as much. And I know that your father belonged to the regiment and what that means to you.

You are, of course, free to request reassignment. But I must warn you, I will recommend against it. You, and your knowledge of how we, the U.S_

Army, operate, coupled with your intimate knowledge of the armored brigade being attached, are far too important to me to lose. You will be a valuable member of my staff."

Jones stood up, faced the General and stood at attention. "I do understand your needs, but I shall nevertheless request reassignment.

Is there anything else?"

Weir looked at Jones. The major was visibly disturbed by the news he had given him. "No, Major, I have nothing else. You will report to the corps G-3 tomorrow and begin work with the planning staff. Good night."

Jones saluted, turned and left. Weir stood, walked over to his window and resumed watching the traffic below. He thought, How easy it would be if we could all just grab our rifles and run out to war. So simple, so direct.

But instead, I and the major have the "paper wars" to fight. As Weir turned and went back to his desk, still cluttered with the plan, an old Japanese saying came to mind: "Duty is heavy, but death is lighter than a feather."

He decided that he finally understood what it meant.