Team Yankee

CHAPTER TWELVE "They Came, in the Same Old Way."

The Team sat in its positions, collectively catching its breath and awaiting orders. Slowly, almost unnoticed, a new and unexpected enemy made its appearance: a forest fire. That it happened should not have been a surprise. The tracer elements in the main gun and machine-gun rounds, aided by burning tanks, were more than enough to set the dry foliage aflame. In high-tech fighting machines it is easy to forget that each action and activity affected everything it touched, manmade and natural. Wrapped in a million-dollar tank, it's easy to forget the natural laws that drive the universe.

At first no one noticed the burning trees and shrubbery. Fire had become a common sight after an engagement. Slowly, however, the fire began to grow, as ruptured fuel cells spread their burning contents. Flames from the two tanks that Polgar's men had destroyed in the first engagement ignited the tree branches that hung over them. In a surprisingly short period, the 3rd Platoon found itself between two growing fires.

Bannon stood upright in the cupola and surveyed the growing fire to the rear. Uleski, who had been keeping a watch to the front, saw his commander and turned to see what he was studying so intently. With a single glance, he understood Bannon's concerns. Without using call signs or names, Uleski came up on the Team net, "YOU THINKING WHAT I'M THINKING7-OVER." Turning toward 55 and facing the XO, Bannon simply nodded his head yes.

The flames continued to spread. There had not been any appreciable rain for weeks, making the trees and undergrowth grade-A kindling. Knowing the Team had no choice and not bothering to call battalion or explain why, Bannon ordered the 3rd Platoon and the Mech to pack up and move out. Like Uleski, Gerry Garger turned to his rear and immediately realized what was happening.

The move was going to be hazardous. To start, the two platoons could not back away from the tree line into the woods before turning around. The fire had spread too far for that.

Instead, they were going to have to move forward into the open and turn, flanking themselves to any enemy force that might still be to their front. Once clear of that hazard, the tracks had to pick their way slowly through the trees back to the valley. Movement therefore was not only going to be slow, it was going to be potentially dangerous: One error by a driver or TC could cause a tank to lose its track. The crew of 66 already knew about that danger. At the rate the fire was moving, a tank would have little chance of being recovered if it lost a track.

No attempt was made to establish an orderly withdrawal. Bannon ordered the Mech Platoon to move on its own to a rally point where the 2nd Platoon was already sitting in reserve.

Uleski and 66 sat overwatching the move of the 3rd Platoon as they began to move. The air, already oppressively hot from the fire and thick with choking smoke from burning wood, diesel, rubber, and flesh, was filled with tension as the first of the 3rd Platoon tanks rolled into the open. Folk had his eye glued to his sight as he slowly traversed the turret watching for any hint of movement from the far side of the clearing. Once Bannon was satisfied that there was no one on the other side who would do anything to his command, he signaled Uleski to begin his move. Tank 66 stayed in place for another minute, watching the far tree line, then joined the withdrawal behind 55.

The movement through the woods was agonizingly slow for Garger. Even though the platoon had moved forward into positions by creeping along between trees as they were now, it had taken less time, or so it seemed. He did not like the idea of being caught in the middle of a forest fire in a tank loaded with ammunition and diesel. He really didn't know what would happen if the forest fire engulfed the tank. No one did. That wasn't something they taught you at Fort Knox. He had no intention, however, of finding out. Sticking one's ass out to fight the Russians was one thing. He knew the odds then and could do something about it. Letting yourself get overrun by a forest fire was something else. It was an unnecessary risk that Garger was glad they were going to avoid, provided the tanks reached the valley before the fire reached them.

As 31 crept along, Garger leaned over, watching as the driver carefully picked his way through the woods. Tank 31 was following in the 32 tank's path. As the lead tank, 32 had the task of blazing the trail. The most difficult part for 31's crew was to maintain their calm and not crowd 32. This was easier said than done. When he wasn't watching the drive, Garger was glancing between the approaching fire and 32. He had to restrain himself from egging 32 on over the radio. That would serve no useful purpose other than to make the rest of the platoon more nervous. So he held his tongue and kept watching as 32 plodded ahead at an unnerving three miles an hour.

The whine of M-113s to his right momentarily diverted his attention. The smaller and more agile tracks of the Mech Platoon were making better time. The drivers were running at a good pace, weaving between the trees like skiers dashing between poles in a downhill race. When Polgar went by, he waved to Garger. The lieutenant returned the wave, then pointed at the approaching fire. Polgar acknowledged the lieutenant's problem with a nod and a thumbs up before the M-113s disappeared to the front of the column.

Some say leadership is the art of motivating men to accomplish a mission or do something that they might not otherwise do. That sounds great in a textbook. As 66 slowly inched along behind 55 in an effort to escape the spreading forest fire, Bannon came up with a few new definitions of leadership. The one that appeared to be most appropriate at that particular moment was something along the lines that a leader was the first man in the unit to put his buns out on the line, and the last to pull them in. As 66 continued its maddeningly slow move through the woods, he wondered if those buns weren't going to get overdone this time.

To take his mind off 66's dilemma, he switched the radio to the battalion net and called Major Jordan in order to inform him of the Team's move. Not surprisingly, instead of contacting the major himself, Bannon found himself conversing with a slow-talking radiotelephone operator who answered for the major. Getting an RTO is like getting a new secretary for a major corporation. You know that your message is going to be screwed up even if it finds its way to the right person. His conversation with the major's RTO was a case in point.

First, the man didn't know the proper call signs, insisting that Bannon identify himself fully before letting him proceed with the message. Once he accepted the fact that Bannon really did belong on the battalion net, he couldn't find the major. He had no idea where the major had gone but said that he would take a message and pass it on. Next, Bannon had to repeat the message twice before the RTO got it down. It was no big message. All he had to do was tell the major that a forest fire had forced Team Yankee to move and that the Team was now en route to the 2nd Platoon's location. Simple.

When the RTO finally read the message back slowly and correctly, he made Bannon authenticate to make sure that he wasn't the enemy. This situation, the company commander trying to get a message through a slow-witted RTO, is common and sometimes funny when it is in the past tense. In the present, however, it is extremely frustrating and unnerving. On one end of the radio is a man in danger, wanting to pass a message rapidly or requesting orders or seeking support. On the other end is a class-three moron sitting snug and secure in a command track, learning how to use a radio for the first time and mad because the radio call interrupted his lunch. A leader can know no greater frustration than this.

Bannon had no sooner cleared his mind of the painfully slow radio conversation with the RTO when the same man came back and told him that the request was denied and that the Team was to stay in place until the major came to the position and saw what was wrong.

Bannon was livid. How the RTO had managed to screw up the message in less than five minutes was beyond him. He didn't give the RTO another chance. Controlling himself, Bannon told the RTO to get the major and have him call immediately. By the time he finished with the RTO the second time, 55 was beginning to clear the forest and reenter the valley. It came none too soon. The 66 came out of the forest just as the fire began to spread above the tank. A few more minutes would have been a few too many. Once again, luck and timing were on Team Yankee's side.

It was early afternoon before Major Jordan made it up to the Team's position. The two platoons that had escaped the fire established themselves in the tree line on either side of 2nd Platoon. The fire had been momentarily stopped by some old fire breaks. The tank positioned nearest the fire, however, had the task of keeping an eye out in that direction for any spread of the flames.

The Team spent the time unwinding and taking care of personal needs. It had been on the move or in combat for almost nine hours when it finally pulled in with the 2nd Platoon. The emotional roller-coaster ride and physical efforts of the morning left everyone in a slight stupor. The crews moved at half-speed and with a deliberation that put one in mind of a drunkard. Before the Team could be of — any use to anyone, the men, including Bannon, needed a break.

Major Jordan found Bannon sitting against a tree behind 66, eating some dehydrated rations, and drinking from a canteen. He was stripped to the waist, his gear in a tangled heap next to him. He remained where he was as Jordan approached. He noted that the major was also suffering from fatigue. When he reached Bannon, he stood and looked down. Then, without a word, Jordan dropped down and took off some of his gear and helmet. Bannon handed him a canteen without a word, and he took it and drank from it without a word. The two sat there in silence for a moment, both with their backs against the tree, watching the men in Team Yankee go about their business.

"Sean, it's been a hell of a day so far. A hell of a day." "So far? You got some cheery news that's going to make my day or something?"

"I just got done talking with the brigade commander. He told me that the battalion had done a great job and how he was proud to have it in his command. Then he went on to tell me that he had all the confidence in the world that I would do well as its commander."

"Oh oh. Sounds to me, major, like the Old Man was setting the battalion up for a hummer of a job. You got something you're trying to tell this broken down tanker?"

"'Fraid so, Sean. It seems like the tanks we were hit by were only part of a Soviet tank regiment. Division and brigade seem to think that the rest of that regiment is going to try to stop the division's attack again tonight. The brigade commander feels that since we did such a good job with the lead battalion, we should be allowed to finish off the regiment. "

"Bully for us. Did anyone tell you how and where?"

"The where is easy. Everyone thinks they'll attack through the Langen Gap, just north of here.

The how is up to us."

"You got any brilliant ideas yet, sir?"

"Not yet. That's why I came here to talk to you. I figure between the two of us we can come up with something."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, sir. My daddy always said misery enjoys company.

Lunch, however, has a higher priority. Care to join me?" "Hell, why not. I need some time to get myself together. After spending the last two hours down in the valley sorting out the rest of the battalion, I know what General Terry felt like when he found Custer and the 7th Cavalry at the Little Bighorn."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don't envy your position. "

"Sean, save the saddle soap and pass me some food."

For a few minutes, the events of the morning were allowed to pass as the two officers munched on dehydrated foods. Just as it is necessary for the body to digest a meal, the mind had to be allowed to sort out events and images. For most of Team Yankee, the morning events were not new. If anything, some of the men were becoming a little too casual about the death and destruction that surrounded them. For Major Jordan, however, this morning was his baptism by fire. He was experiencing now what Bannon had gone through during the Hill 214 debacle. Bannon thought that the major had come to the Team to escape the horror show in the valley and to find someone with whom to share his new burden.

The afternoon was passing quietly. Only the distant rumble of artillery and an occasional crack from a tank cannon to the north broke the stillness. The bright day had given way to clouds and a cool wind coming from the west, foreshadowing a coming storm. In the Team area the crews were moving about, checking their tracks, cleaning weapons, or redistributing ammunition between tanks.

There wasn't much talking or shouting. Very little motion was wasted. A casual observer would not be able to determine who was in charge of the Team. Officers and NCOs were just as dirty and just as busy, except for Bannon, as the rest of the crew. The men knew what had to be done and did it. No shouting, no unnecessary rushing about. The Team, through habits born from countless hours of training and drills, was preparing for its next battle.

When they had finished their meal, the major and Bannon unfolded a map and laid it out on the ground. From a prone position, Bannon studied the map as the major went over the information he had received from brigade. The Langen Gap was actually a small valley running from east to west, connecting the main valley the battalion was in and the valley to the east where the Soviet tank regiment was located. The town of Langen itself was in the center of the gap with high ground to the north and south.

After studying the terrain, they discussed the various ways the Soviets could come. Both were in agreement that they probably would not try sneaking through the woods again. They had already tried that and failed miserably. Odds were, they would try to bull through this time. Hence division's and brigade's belief that they would use the Langen Gap, a conclusion that both Jordan and Bannon concurred with. If the Soviets did come through the gap, they would be forced to go north or south of the village. Thus, the village provided a natural strongpoint if needed. In the gap itself there were few natural positions, other than Langen, from which the battalion could defend. They couldn't and wouldn't put the whole battalion in the town of Langen itself. From the beginning it was decided that D company, along with the remnants of C company, would defend from Langen. It was the positioning of the two teams that was difficult. If they were deployed on the east slopes of the hills north and south of Langen, they would be out on their own and exposed to Soviet artillery and supporting fires. A team deployed on the southern slope of Hill 358 would be masked by the town of Langen and at too great a range to be of much use. There were very few options.

After some additional discussion, the major decided that they would go with a reverse slope defense. It would be risky but there seemed to be little choice. It was the only way they could protect the force and deploy everyone where the entire battalion would be mutually supporting. Team Yankee, with its eight tanks, the Mech Platoon, and two ITVs would deploy south of Langen on the high ground facing northwest. Team Bravo, with four tanks, a mech platoon, and two ITVs would be situated northeast of Langen facing southwest. Two ITVs would set up on the lower slopes of Hill 358 facing southeast and D company would hold the eastern portion of Langen and face east. In this way, as the enemy force approached Langen and turned either north or south, it would be hit in both flanks. Major Jordan anticipated that the Soviets would turn south, which is why Team Yankee and the majority of the tanks went there. However, Bannon was given a contingency mission to attack into their flank if the Soviets turned north.

In addition to normal artillery fire support, the brigade was allocating several artillery-delivered scatterable minefields to the battalion. The mines, contained in an artillery projectile, were released after firing over a wide area. As soon as the mines landed, they armed automatically. While not powerful enough in most cases to kill a tank, these artillery-delivered mines could easily immobilize them by destroying the tracks, slow others, and cause confusion. The plan was to save the scatterable mines until they knew for certain where the Soviets were going and then drop them right on top of the tanks that were being engaged. In addition to the teams and D company, the Scout Platoon with its five Bradleys would be deployed well forward as a combat outpost. The scouts were to engage the Soviets early, stripping away any security elements they might have in front and causing them to deploy early. When the Soviet return fire became too intense, they would pull north into the woods and let the Soviets pass. When the time appeared to be right, they would come back out of hiding and snipe at the Soviet rear or flanks. After dividing the battalion up into kill zones and doing some initial plotting of artillery, Major Jordan ordered Bannon to recon Team Yankee's position. He was going to call forward the other commanders and have them meet him in Langen. There he would issue their instructions and allow them to recon the area. He wanted the battalion to be in place and ready by 1800 hours. While it would have been possible for Team Yankee and Team Bravo to move then, D company still needed time to sort itself out. Until the battalion was in place, the Scout Platoon would be the only force in the gap.

The move into the Team's positions south of Langen did not take long. By 1700 hours it was settled in and preparing positions. Although the brigade could not provide the battalion with replacements to make good its losses in men and equipment, they sent something to them almost as good. A company of engineers with heavy equipment arrived in Langen shortly after the battalion. The major immediately put them to work digging positions for the two teams and an antitank ditch running from Langen to the northeast.

Chances were that it would never be finished, but the visible presence of even a partially completed ditch might be enough to cause the Soviets to shy away from the northern route and go south, where the major wanted them. Besides the digging, a squad of engineers assisted D company in setting up a protective minefield in front of Langen. If used correctly before a battle, a platoon of engineers with heavy equipment can be more valuable than a company of tanks.

The Team was deployed along the tree line south of Langen facing the village. Provided the Soviets obliged them, they would be facing the left flank as the Russians moved to the southwest. The northernmost unit was the Mech Platoon stationed at the northern tip of the forest and hill. They were placed there to protect the Team's blind side and prevent dismounted infantry from rolling up their right flank. Next in line was Uleski in the 55 tank between the Mech Platoon and the 2nd Platoon. The 2nd Platoon was to his left.

Bannon placed the 66 tank next and put 3rd Platoon to the left. Garger in the 31 tank was on the Team's far left. During the afternoon, Major Jordan had done some reshuffling of the battalion's task organization based on his recon. The two ITVs Team Yankee was supposed to have were taken away. Instead, they were placed on Hill 358. The major felt the ITVs would have better fields of fire from the hill. Because the battalion fire-support officer had been killed when the command group had been hit, Lieutenant Plesset, Team Yankee's FIST, was taken by Major Jordan to fill in as the battalion's FSO. As in the first battle, Bannon would have to go through battalion to request artillery. This time, however, it would not be as difficult. There were a very limited number of options open to the Team and the Soviets, and all were covered with preplanned target reference points.

The battalion was in place and ready by 1800. Shortly after that a series of showers, hard summer downpours, began. The sky blackened, and the rain came in sheets. At first it was a welcome relief. After twenty minutes, however, it started to become a hindrance. The engineers digging the antitank ditch and positions found themselves fighting mud as well as time. The tedious job of emplacing the minefield became a miserable one as well. The hastily dug foxholes of the Mech Platoon rapidly filled with water, forcing the occupants to abandon them and seek shelter in the PCs when they could.

Everyone who didn't need to be outside sought shelter in the tracks. The infantry company in the town, with the exception of those people working in the minefield, was lucky. They were able to improve their positions in the buildings and remain dry. By the time the last shower passed through at 2000 hours, any joy the men in the battalion had felt over the break in the summer heat had been washed away and replaced by mumbled complaints about the cold, the damp, and the mud.

The rain did have one beneficial effect. By coming late in the day it cooled down everything that was not generating heat. This would increase the effectiveness of the thermal sights.

The attacking Soviet tanks would be hot and would present clear thermal images against the cool natural backdrop.

While the engineers would continue to work until all light was gone, the battalion was set and as ready as it would ever be. All it had to do now was wait. The tank crews, the infantrymen in the town and on the hills, the scouts, the ITV crewmen, the battalion's heavy mortar men, and the numerous staff and support people that kept the battalion going settled in to wait.

The Team, like the rest of the battalion, went to halfmanning during the wait. The scouts, deployed in the path of any Soviet advance, would be able to give them at least five minutes warning. Uleski took the first watch for the Team while Bannon got some sleep. At first Uleski found staying awake easy. The cold and the damp coupled with the nervous anticipation kept him alert for the first hour, but boredom and exhaustion soon overtook him.

By 2330 hours he was struggling to stay awake and losing. Uleski would shift his weight from one foot to another, shake himself out, and then lean against the side of the turret every five minutes or so. Inevitably, however, he would drop off momentarily, awakening only when his head fell forward and crashed into the M2 machine gun mount.

Just before midnight, he gave up his efforts and roused his gunner to replace him in the cupola. The loader replaced the driver. When Gwent was ready, Uleski told him he was going to check the line, wake up the CO, and come back to get some sleep.

As he moved down the line, starting with the Mech Platoon, he was glad to see that the rest of the Team had been able to remain more alert than he had. At each point he was challenged. In the Mech Platoon's area he ran into Sergeant Polgar, who never seemed to sleep. He was always moving around checking on something or someone. Uleski didn't know how he did it. The only way one could tell that Polgar was tired was to listen to him speak. His normally slow southern accent became a little slower when he was tired. When Polgar sounded like a 45 record being played at 33, it was a sure sign that the sergeant was exhausted.

At 66, Ulerki found Bannon stretched out on top of 66's turret asleep. Looking at Bannon nestled on top of the camouflage net with the loader's CVC on, Uleski was at first reluctant to wake his commander. He was too tired, however, to be that kind. When Bannon was awake and coherent, Uleski updated him. Not that there was anything to report. Nothing had come over the battalion or team radio nets since radio listening silence had gone into effect.

All was quiet.

Bannon was about to tell his XO to go back to his tank and get some rest when a massive volley of artillery rounds impacted in Langen and on the east side of the hill Team Yankee was on. The flash from the impacts lit up the sky. Division and brigade had been right. The Soviets were coming through the gap. In very short order they would find out if the major had guessed right and come up with a winning solution.

The men of the Mech Platoon scrambled into their positions as the Soviet artillery continued to crash into the east side of the hill two hundred meters to their left. The water in their foxholes had long since dissipated, but the mud had not. Wherever the infantrymen made contact with the ground, the mud clung to them and soaked through to their skins.

In spite of the discomfort and fear caused by their environment and imminent attack, they prepared for battle. The riflemen checked their magazines, tapping them against their helmets to ensure that the rounds were properly seated. They loaded their weapons, chambered a round, took their weapons off safe, and placed the barrel on the stake placed along their principal direction of fire. Grenadiers checked the function of their grenade launchers and chambered their first rounds. Machine gunners checked the ammo to ensure that it was clean, dry, and ready to feed. Dragon gunners switched on their thermal sights, checked their systems, and began to scan their areas for targets.

Polgar went along the line, stopping at each foxhole. To each soldier he gave his final instructions. When he came to a squad leader he required him to repeat his orders. The image of their platoon leader, illuminated by the flashes from impacting artillery, squatting above their foxhole as he calmly gave them instructions, served to steady those who were nervous. His confident and businesslike manner was contagious and bound the Platoon into a usable weapon.

The tankers also prepared for their ordeal. The outcome of this fight would be determined by them. The ITVs and the Scout Platoon, firing their TOW antitank guided missiles, and the infantry with their Dragons would contribute. Every gun counted. The fast-firing M68AI 105mm tank cannon, however, would be the prime killer. Capable of firing eight aimed rounds per minute, the tanks would account for eight out of ten kills that night. The tank and the crew has but one reason to exist. To feed the tank's cannon. All else takes a distant second. Loaders opened their ammo doors to ensure that the rounds were placed in the order they wanted. They would be fighting tanks tonight so the majority of the rounds fired would be the armor-piercing fin-stabilized discarding SABOT rounds with their long needle-like projectiles. Satisfied that the ammo was ready, the loaders closed the doors and checked that the turret floor was clear. In the heat of battle, it would not do to have things clutter the turret. The spent shell casings would be more than enough of a challenge to the loader.

The gunners checked their thermal sights, adjusting the contrast and clarity of the image to obtain the best possible sight picture. They checked their computer settings and functions to ensure the fire-control system was ready and operating. Tank commanders sat perched in their cupolas, alternately watching their crews as they prepared for battle and scanning the tank's assigned sectors. When all was ready, a TC would turn to his wingman and wave until the wingman acknowledged him. With their weapons ready, the men of Team Yankee prepared mentally for their ordeal, each in his own way. Most said a prayer. Many of the men had forgotten how to do so. Technology was so much easier to grasp than the concept of a divine being. But war had been a humbling experience, stripping most of the men in the Team of their smug pretenses. The awesome spectacle of war and everpresent death brought each man face-to-face with himself, for many for the first time in their lives. Most found they lacked something; they felt an emptiness. Along the line, men found comfort in beliefs long dormant. In the shadow of death, amidst the violence of the coming attack, simple, heartfelt prayers completed the Team's preparation for battle.

The scouts reported the appearance of the Soviets. They were advancing in company columns, waiting until the last minute to deploy. This made it easy for the scouts to divide up the Soviet formation and engage their tanks without interfering with each other. The scouts began their battle drill, firing, moving, firing, moving. Engaging at maximum range and calling for supporting artillery fires, the scouts began the grim business of the night. The Soviets tried hard to ignore the scouts, for they knew that they were not the main force. To stop and engage the scouts would prevent their reaching the valley and accomplishing their mission.

The scouts were persistent. Just as a single mosquito can keep a full-grown man from sleeping, the Scout Platoon drew some of the Soviets away from their mission. A company of tanks peeled out from the formation and began to engage the scouts. In accordance with their instructions, the scouts fired a few more rounds to draw their attackers farther away from the advancing regiment. Then, they disappeared into the darkness. The Soviets knew that the scouts were still out there. The night betrayed no tell-tale fires from burning tracks. The Soviet commander found himself with ten fewer tanks and the need to keep looking over his shoulder as he began to pass between the two hill masses and turn southwest.

To the men in Team Yankee the Soviet advance was an awesome spectacle. They watched the Soviets pass to their front. The fires started in Langen silhouetted the Soviet tanks as they completed their deployment. The tank regiment was now in columns of companies, each company in line, one behind the other. As the lead company began to pass to the south of Langen, Major Jordan called for the scatterable minefields.

Amidst the noise of the Soviet artillery fire, the U.S. artillery-delivered mines arrived almost unnoticed. That is, until Soviet tanks began to run over them. The Soviet officers knew about scatterable mines, and they knew their capabilities. There wasn't anything the Soviets didn't know about the American military. But to have knowledge about a weapon system does not always mean that you know what to do about it when you encounter that weapon. The manner in which the Soviets dealt with the scatterable minefields was a case, in point.

Tanks began to hit the mines and stop. Commanders at first thought they were under fire but saw no tell-tale gun or missile launcher flash. As more tanks hit the mines, the other tanks began to slow down. A minefield. An unexpected inconvenience but one that the Soviet commanders could deal with. With a single order, the companies began to reform into columns behind the tanks equipped with mine plows and rollers. Once the tanks were out of the minefield, they could redeploy and continue as before. Soviet battle drill is good, and it is precise.

It was at this point, when the Soviets were in the midst of redeploying, that Major Jordan ordered the ITVs, D company, and Team Bravo to open fire. The sudden mass volley caught the Soviets off-guard. They had thought that once they had cleared the choke point between the two hills and had begun to bypass Langen, there would be no stopping them. After all, the choke point was the logical place to defend, not after. Confusion, both in the Soviet battle formation caught in the middle of redeploying and in the minds of commanders faced with an unexpected problem, became worse as the Soviet tank company commanders and platoon leaders began to die.

With the Soviets thrashing about in the open, Jordan directed the artillery to switch to firing dual-purpose improved conventional ammunition, or DPICM. Like the scatterable mine, the artillery projectiles were loaded with many small submunitions. The submunitions in DPICM, however, were bomblets that exploded on contact and were designed to penetrate the thin armor covering the top of armored vehicles. Confusion now began to degenerate into pandemonium. Some tanks simply stopped and began to fire into Langen. Others tried to carry out the last orders given and form into column. Tanks from the second tank battalion of the regiment still in the gap between the hills charged directly toward Langen and ran afoul of the minefields laid by the engineers and infantry. Some tanks simply turned and tried to go back, a few headed toward the woods where Team Yankee was, thinking the silent tree line offered safe haven.

Sensing that the time was right, Major Jordan delivered his coup de grace. He ordered Team Yankee to fire. The first volley was devastating. Those Soviets headed toward the Team's positions were dispatched without ever knowing what happened. After the first well-measured volley, the tank crews in Team Yankee began to engage the Soviet tanks in their assigned sectors of responsibility. Firing rapidly, the tanks began to methodically take out the Soviet tanks starting with those closest to the Team's positions. Above the din of battle, the shouted orders of tank commanders could be heard:

"FIRE!" "GUNNER-SABOT-TWO TANKSFIRE!" "TARGET-NEXT TANK-FIRE!" Like a wolf smelling blood on a crippled and dying animal, the Scout Platoon swung around to the rear of the Soviet regiment and began to engage. The people who started the battle rushed forward as the battalion began the final stages of its killing frenzy.

The scene before Bannon was staggering. He stood upright in the turret and watched. Folk no longer needed him, simply continuing to engage anything that appeared in his sight. Folk, the loader, the cannon, and the fire control system were one complete machine, functioning automatically, efficiently, effectively.

Hell itself could not have compared with the scene in the open space to the front of 66.

There was the burning village of Langen in the background. Flames, interrupted by the impact of incoming artillery rounds, leaped high above the village and disappeared in low hanging clouds. From the far left of Bannon's field of vision to the far right and beyond, smashed Soviet tanks and tracked vehicles burned, spewing out great sheets of flames as the propellant from onboard ammunition ignited and blew. Burning diesel from ruptured fuel cells formed flaming pools around dead tanks. Tracers and missiles streaked across the field from all directions, causing stunning showers of sparks when a tank round hit a Soviet tank or a brilliant flash as a missile found its mark. Soviet crewmen, some burning, abandoned their tanks only to be cut down as chattering machine guns added their stream of red tracers to the fray. Transfixed by this scene, Bannon received a new understanding of Wilfred Owen's grim poem, "Dulce et Decorum Est."

As in all the Team's battles, there was no really clear-cut ending. The deafening crescendo of battle suddenly tapered off as the gunners ran out of targets. It was replaced by random shooting, usually machine guns searching out fugitive Soviet crewmen trying to escape. No order was given to cease fire. There was no need to. As before, Bannon allowed the Team to take out those that had survived the destruction of their vehicles. Mopping up is a useful term for this random killing. Team Yankee and D company continued to mop up for the better part of an hour.

When he was sure that the last of the Soviet tanks had been destroyed, Bannon called for a SITREP from the platoons. From his position he could not see any more of the Team than the tanks to his immediate left and right. In the heat of battle, he and the platoon leaders had become totally absorbed in fighting their tanks. There had been no need to exercise any command or control once the order to fire had been given. It had been a simple case of fire quickly and keep firing. The result was that, although he knew they had stopped the Soviets, Bannon had no idea what it had cost the Team.

The replies he received from the platoons were difficult to believe but welcome. Though several tanks had been hit, the total cost to the Team had been two men killed and four wounded, most of them from the Mech Platoon, as usual, and one tank damaged. The positions dug by the engineers and the fact that Team Yankee had joined the battle last, after the Soviet commanders has lost control of the situation, allowed the Team to come out with relatively light casualties.

Listening to the SITREPs given over the battalion radio net, Bannon learned that D company had suffered far more than Team Yankee due to the Soviet artillery fire and the fact that they were in the middle of things. Even so, that company was still in good shape and could field three slightly understrength platoons.

By the time Major Jordan got around to calling for a SITREP from the Team, Bannon's elation at coming out of this last fight so well with so little damage gave way to cockiness.

When the major asked for a report, Bannon gave him the same words Wellington had used when describing the Battle of Waterloo: "They came in the same old way, and you know, we beat them, in the same old way."