Team Yankee

CHAPTER TWO First Battle

Both Colonel Reynolds and Captain Bannon stood there transfixed, staring at the point where the two Russian jets had disappeared up the valley. Bannon's mind was almost numb. He kept trying to convince himself that maybe he hadn't really seen two Russian jets.

Maybe he was mistaken. It had to be a mistake. The thought, "We can't really be at war. That isn't possible," kept running through his mind.

They both snapped their heads back toward the east as a crash and rumble like distant thunder rolled over them. They could only see the hill across the valley. But neither man needed to see to know what the distant noise was. The endless chain of distant crashes and rumblings, caused by hundreds of guns, could only be the Soviets' preparatory bombardment on the cavalry's forward positions.

Bannon turned and looked at the colonel. He continued to stare east as if he could look through the hill across the valley and see what was going on. The numbness and shock Bannon had felt was giving way to a sickening, sinking feeling. They had failed. The primary purpose of the U.S. Army in Europe was to prevent war. Deterrence. That's what was supposed to happen. But it had failed. Something terrible had gone wrong, and they had failed. Now they had to fight. They were at war. And at that moment Bannon felt very alone, very unsure of himself, and very scared.

Reynolds turned and looked at Bannon. The colonel's face hadn't changed expression. If he were feeling the same things, he wasn't showing it. Reynolds studied Bannon for a moment, sensing the shock and uncertainty that showed on the captain's face. He had seen it before, in Vietnam, so Bannon's reactions didn't surprise him. "Well, Captain, let's see if those buckets of bolts you always brag about are worth the money the government spent on them.

Get your company in MOPP level II, stand by to occupy your fighting positions, and stay on the net, but don't call me unless you need to. I expect the cavalry will come screaming back through that passage point like a whipped dog. Be ready to cover them and get them out of the way as fast as you can. You got any questions?"

Bannon took in what the colonel was saying. What was there to question? This was what all the training was about. All their preparations were for this moment. Now all they had to do was put it into action. "No, sir, no questions."

"Well then, get moving and good hunting." Without waiting for a response, the colonel turned and began to move back to his jeep with a quick, purposeful pace. He did not look back.

Reynolds was setting the example, and he expected Bannon to follow it.

As Bannon turned back toward the PC where he had left the platoon leaders, a new series of artillery concentrations began to impact closer to the Team's positions. Additional Soviet artillery units were joining in, hitting the cavalry's rear positions. The latest series impacted just behind the hill on the other side of the valley. "Hell, the colonel could be cool and walk,"

Bannon thought. "This is my first war and I damn sure don't care about impressing anyone with my calm right now." He broke out into a slow run, weapon, protective mask, and canteen bouncing and banging against his body as he trotted through the trees to the PC.

As he neared the PC, Bannon could see the platoon leaders, Uleski, and the first sergeant watching the colonel's jeep go tearing down the logging trail, throwing up stones and disappearing in a cloud of dust. They had heard the jets and the artillery. Bannon slowed down to a walk, caught his breath, and moved up to them. All eyes turned to him.

"All right, this is it. The Russians are laying into the cavalry and when Ivan finishes with them, we're next. I want everyone in MOPP level II. Leave the nets over your tracks but clear them away from the front so that you can move forward into position quickly. First Sergeant, take the PC and fire team from the Mech Platoon that are designated to man the passage point and get down there. Lieutenant U, you'll stay up here with the ITVs and fight them with 2nd Platoon if necessary. I'm going to move my tank down to the right of 3rd Platoon and fight from there. Other than that, we do it the way we trained and planned. Stay off the air unless you have something really critical to report. Anyone have any questions?" He looked into each man's eyes, just as the colonel had done to him. He saw the same dark thoughts he had reflected in their expressions. Only the first sergeant, also a Vietnam vet, wore the stern, no-nonsense look he always did. For a few moments there was silence, broken only by the continuous crash and rumble of the artillery in the distance. "All right, let's move out and make it happen." Without waiting for a response, Bannon turned and began to walk towards his tank. As the colonel had done for him, he was setting the example for his people. He suspected that they would do the same with their tank commanders, and their TCs would, in turn, get their people moving. At least, that's what he hoped would be happening.

The drumbeat of the impacting Soviet artillery continued, growing louder but less intense.

The Russian gun crews must have been getting tired of humping rounds by now, and the rate of fire was slowing down. The distant rumble was joined by the noise of Team Yankee coming to life. The PC's driver cranked up its engine, revved it up, and began raising the rear ramp. The crews of the ITVs and of Bannon's tank, 66, also cranked up their engines.

As he neared his 66 tank, Bannon could see Sgt. Robert Folk, the gunner, in the cupola. Folk had his combat vehicle crewman's helmet, or.CVC, on and was manning the M2 machine gun, ready for action. Bannon tried to yell to him to dismount with the rest of the crew so they could tear down the net. The noise of the engine, the muffling of outside noise through his CVC, and Folk's preoccupation with trying to see what was going on to his front frustrated Bannon's efforts.

It wasn't until Bannon started climbing up on the front right fender that Folk noticed his commander. "Let's get this net off! You and Kelp get out here and help me with this net.

We're moving." Without waiting for a response, Bannon dropped down to the ground again and began to pull down the support poles and spreaders that held the net up. Whether Folk heard him or not was unimportant. As soon as he saw his captain tear at the net, Folk took off his CVC, leaned over toward the loader's hatch, and, with his left hand, slapped Kelp, the loader, on top of his CVC. Kelp looked up at Folk who pointed to Bannon, who continued to tear at the net. Getting the message, Kelp also removed his CVC and climbed out to help.

"Let's get this net down and stowed, just like we do during training. Only let's do it a little faster this time, OK?" Neither man answered. The expression on their faces was the same that had been on the platoon leaders'-stunned disbelief.

Folk dropped to the ground and circled the tank, pulling up the net's stakes as he went. Kelp started to pull down the supports and spreaders that were on the tank. With the stakes out and the poles down, the hard part began. The net caught on everything, including the crewmen taking it down. Tugging seldom did any good. One had to find what the net was caught on, pull it free, roll it up a little until it caught again, and repeat the process. Trying to hurry only seemed to make it worse. Despite the delays, the crew finally gathered the net up into a pile on the bustle rack and secured it. They hadn't done the neatest job of stowing it, but it was probably one of the fastest.

Before they climbed in, Bannon told his crew to get their chemical protective suits on. This was MOPP level II. As Folk and Kelp dug their suits out of their duffle bags, Bannon walked forward to the driver's compartment and told Pfc.

Joseph Ortelli, the driver, to climb out and get his suit on. As Ortelli reached over to kill the engine, Bannon stopped him, not wanting to run the risk of screwing something up. The last thing he needed was a tank that wouldn't restart. It was running, and he didn't want to mess with anything that was working properly.

As Bannon pulled his chemical suit on, the crew watched him. He took his time to ensure that he didn't fumble and fall. He had always been told that calm, like panic, was contagious.

Now was a good time to find out. Besides, it had been a long time since they had trained in their chemical protective clothing and he had to figure out where all the snaps and ties went.

The heavy protective clothing was a necessary evil of modern war. When Bannon was finished, he turned to Folk. "We ready to roll, Sergeant Folk?"

Folk looked at him for a moment. "Yes, sir. We're ready." Folk's tense expression relaxed slightly.

"Are all weapons loaded and on safe?" Bannon's second question caused the relaxed look to be replaced by one of embarrassment as both Folk and Kelp stopped pulling at their suits and looked at each other. "I take it that that's a big negative on my last question."

Sheepishly, Folk replied that it hadn't occurred to him to do so because they were in an assembly area with cavalry still out in front. All the range safety briefings and all the times the men had been harangued about keeping weapons clear and elevated except when on a live fire range were coming home to haunt them. Bannon couldn't blame the men. In their first battle, he could only expect them to do what they were taught in training, no better, no worse.

Stopping for a moment, Bannon leaned back on the side of the turret and looked at his crew. "Alright, guys, here it is. We're really at war. I don't know what's happening yet, but from the sound of that artillery you can bet the Russians are letting the cavalry have it. The cavalry is out there to buy us some time and let us get our shit together. That's what they get paid for. When the Russians finish with the cavalry, we're next. What I want you to do is to calm down and start thinking. Remember what we did in training and do it now.

Only think! There are a couple of habits we picked up in training that you're going to have to forget about. Do you understand what I'm saying?" With a nod and a glance sideways at each other, they gave their tank and team commander a subdued but nervous, "Yes, sir."

"Alright, finish getting your suits on. We're going to move over to the right of 3rd Platoon and take up a position there. If nobody has any questions, let's get moving."

By the time the crew of 66 was finished and mounted, the rest of the crews and tracks in the headquarters position were in their chemical gear and mounted. The first sergeant, now mounted in the headquarters PC with his jeep following, had already pulled out of position and was moving down the logging trail. Bannon noticed that all the tracks were running. Everyone was cranked up and ready to move. As the cavalry's covering force battle would take hours, possibly a day, there was no sense in leaving the tanks running. All that would do was burn diesel, something the M-I was very good at, and create a tremendous thermal signature, another trait of the M-I. The savings in diesel would be worth a small violation of radio listening silence. Besides, it might be good for at least the leadership of the Team to hear their commander issue an order and give some advice. Unless the Soviet radio direction-finding detachments were fast, it would do no harm. Checking first the remote box to ensure that the radio was set on the Team net, Bannon keyed the radio and paused for a moment to let the radio come up to speed. "ALL BRAVO 3 ROMEO ELEMENTS-THIS IS ROMEO 25-IT IS GOING TO BE AWHILE BEFORE THOSE OTHER PEOPLE GET HERE-SHUT DOWN AND SETTLE DOWNCHECK YOUR SYSTEMS AND LOCK AND LOAD ACKNOWLEDGE-OVER."

The platoons checked in and acknowledged. Uleski, in the 55 tank, simply stood up in its cupola, turned toward the 66 tank and waved, indicating that he understood. The ITVs did not respond but shut down. With nothing more to do there, Bannon turned around in the cupola and faced to the rear.

Locking the push-to-talk switch on his CVC back so he could talk to the driver on the intercom and hang on with both hands, Bannon began to back the tank onto the logging trail.

As he leaned over to the right side of the cupola, watching the right rear fender as 66 moved back, Kelp popped out of the loader's hatch and leaned over to the left, watching the left rear fender. Once on the trail, the tank made a pivot turn to the right and started forward toward 3rd Platoon.

The drive down to 3rd Platoon was a short one, only about 700 meters. But it felt good to be in the tank and moving. Standing in the TC's hatch of a tank, rolling down a road or cross-country, was always an exhilarating experience for Bannon. He never tired of the thrill. Despite all the pain, misery, and headaches tanks could give him, it was fun being a tanker. It is the little joys in life that keep one going, and right now Bannon needed a little joy.

As they moved along the trail Bannon watched to the left, catching an occasional glimpse of the 3rd Platoon tanks. Their nets were still up but were propped up clear of the exhaust to keep them from melting. When 66 cleared the last of 3rd Platoon's tanks, Bannon ordered Ortelli to turn left into the forest and move down a small trail cut by a combat engineer vehicle that had dug the Team's positions. As they had not planned to fight from here, 66 was taking one of the alternate firing positions from the 33 tank, now to their immediate left at about seventy-five meters. The 33 tank would now have only its primary position to fire from and one alternate firing position to its left. The 66 would not have an alternate. If 66 were detected and fired at while in this position, the best Bannon could do would be to blow smoke grenades, back out of sight, and hope that whoever had shot at them gave up before 66 reoccupied its firing position. Rather than stay back and hide in the forest, Bannon eased the tank into the firing position where he could observe the village, the valley, and the hills across the valley. The walled farm was just off to the right, out of sight in the small valley.

Satisfied with his position, he ordered Ortelli to shut the engine down and to get out with Kelp to cut some camouflage. Folk came up to the TC's position to man the M2 and monitor the radio while the rest of the crew camouflaged the tank.

Ortelli took the ax and began to cut some branches as Kelp and Bannon draped the camouflage net over the rear of the turret and back deck. They didn't put up the supports or stake it down; all Bannon wanted to do was to break up some of the tank's outline. Finished with the net, Kelp and Bannon began to place the branches dragged over by Ortelli on the side and front of the tank not covered by the net.

They were careful to ensure that the gunners' primary sight was not blocked and that the turret could be traversed some without knocking off the camouflage. When they were finished, Bannon stepped back a few meters to view their handiwork. The 66 looked like a tank covered with branches. Someone looking hard would be able to see it, no doubt about that. But, with a little luck and some harassment from the air defense artillery, the Russian pilots would be moving too fast to take a hard look. Satisfied that they had done the best they could, the crew remounted and waited.

Bannon stood in the turret and watched to the east, taking off his CVC and laying it down on top of the turret. The radio was turned up so he could hear any traffic being passed. He began to listen to the noise of the battle to his front. The massive bombardment continued but had died down some. The noise of the impacting artillery had been joined by new sounds and faint cracks of new high velocity tank cannons firing. The cavalry probably was returning artillery and tank fire. That meant the enemy was out and coming. There was no way to find out what was going on out there. For a moment Bannon was half tempted to switch his auxiliary radio receiver over to the cavalry's frequency. But doing so would have meant leaving either the battalion or the Team net. Were he still up on the headquarter's position, that would not have been a problem because Uleski could have covered the vacated net. Thinking hard, but not coming up with a solution, he resigned himself to the fact that until the battalion started to pass information down, he would be in the dark. He felt it was more important to be near 3rd Platoon in case Garger blew it than to know what was happening.

Now the waiting began. It wasn't even 0830 yet. The last hour had gone fast but had been emotionally draining. Everything had changed that morning. Wars, once started, take on a life of their own, and what occurs and how they end are seldom controllable by either side.

World War I, World War II, Korea, and Vietnam all took twists and turns no one foresaw.

Bannon had no reason to doubt that this one was going to be any different. Those thoughts were disquieting. His mind needed to be diverted to something less ominous and more comprehensible.

He put on his CVC, muffling most of the noise of the unseen covering force battle. He locked the push-to-talk switch back into the intercom position. "Sergeant Folk, have you run a computer check yet this morning?"

"No, sir, we haven't."

"Well, let's make sure we don't get any surprises during the first engagement. I intend to go home a veteran and collect some of those benefits Congress is always after. How about you, Kelp?"

Kelp stood on the turret floor and looked up out of the loader's hatch at Bannon with a grin.

"I'm with you. My uncle was in Nam an' he's always tellin' me how rough it was. By the time we get done kickin' ass on Russian tanks, I'll be able to tell 'em what a real war was like."

Bannon left the CVC keyed to the intercom position so that the rest of the crew could hear their conversation. "Well, if Ortelli can keep this beast running and Sergeant Folk can hit the targets I find him, you and I should do pretty well, Kelp." Both Ortelli and Folk chimed in, vowing that they were going to be the ones waiting for Bannon and Kelp. After a couple more minutes of banter, Bannon judged that they were in a more normal state of mind, and he started them on the crew checklist. He read the list, item by item, and watched as the crewman responsible performed his check. Like an airline crew preparing for flight, the crew of 66 prepared for combat.

He began to feel more comfortable, and the crew seemed to be less tense. For the first time this morning he felt at ease. It would be possible to relax awhile, both physically and mentally.

Bannon took his CVC off again. To his front he could see pillars of black smoke rising in the sky, joining together high above the horizon, and drifting away to the east. Burning tanks. A lot of them. No doubt about that. Hundreds of gallons of diesel together with ammunition, rubber, oil, and the "other" burnable material on a tank provides plenty of fuel when a penetrating round finds its mark.

The noise of the battle was more varied now. The initial massive bombardment was replaced by irregular spasms of artillery fire. The artillery batteries shifted their fires to hit targets of opportunity as they presented themselves. Irregular cracks, booms, and thuds were joined by a rapid chain of booms as an artillery unit fired all its guns simultaneously. He began to wonder how long the cavalry could maintain the tempo of the battle they were involved in.

Modern war consumes ammunition, material, and, worst of all, men at a frightening rate.

Rapid-fire tank cannon coupled with a computerized fire control and laser range finders were capable of firing up to eight aimed rounds per minute at tank-sized targets at ranges in excess of 2000 meters. Guided munitions, fired from ground launchers or helicopters, had a better than ninety percent probability of hitting a target at 4000 meters. Soviet multiple rocket launchers could fire hundreds of rockets in a single volley and destroy everything within a one-by-one kilometer grid. Chemical agents produced by the Soviets were capable of penetrating exposed skin and attacking the body's nervous system, crippling the victim in seconds and killing him in minutes. All the implements of war had become more capable, more deadly. All were designed to rip, crush, cripple, dismember, incapacitate, and kill men faster and more efficiently. In all the armies arrayed across the continent, the only thing that technology had not improved was the ability of the human body to absorb punishment.

Such thoughts were disquieting. The mind, left free, tends to wander into what might be and what could happen, as frightening as the Ghost of Christmas to Come was to Scrooge. A diversion from these thoughts came from the east.

Two dots, growing rapidly into aircraft, came screaming toward the small valley from the east just as the others had this morning. Bannon hoped the Team would abide by the standard operating procedures, or SOP, and not engage them. With only machine guns, they stood little chance of hitting fast-moving jets. The only thing that would be accomplished by firing would be to give away the Team's positions.

A Stinger team somewhere in the cavalry's sector had no hesitation about engaging, however. Bannon watched as the white smoke trail of a Stinger surface-to-air antiaircraft missile raced up after the second jet. But it did not find its mark. The Soviet pilot dropped small flares and made a hard turn and dive. The missile detonated harmlessly in midair as the second jet turned to join the first, and both disappeared up the small valley. The ripping chainsaw-like report from a Vulcan 20-millimeter antiaircraft gun somewhere behind the Team's position revealed that problems for the Russian pilots were just starting. The air defense system was now alert and in action.

As if to underscore that point, two more dots emerged from the east. Apparently the Soviets liked this air approach and were sending their aircraft through four at a time. Their heavy use of the small valley cost them this time. Two Stinger missiles raced up to greet the Soviet jets. The pilot of the trail jet in this pair was not as quick or as lucky as the other pilots had been; one of the Stingers found its mark. The missile detonated, causing the jet to tumble over as if kicked from behind, then disintegrate in a rolling orange ball of fire. The first jet kicked in his afterburners, dropped lower, and kept flying west, to the waiting Vulcan. Kelp, who had been watching.the engagement, let out an "Ah, neat! Hey, Sarge, you missed it!" as if he were watching Fourth of July fireworks instead of the destruction of a pilot and a multimi11ion dollar aircraft. Kelp then described, in his own colorful way, the action to Folk. As Bannon reflected on Kelp's reaction, he, too, had to admit that it was kind of neat.

Announcement of plans to evacuate the dependents was on the TV before AFN went off the air the morning Sean had left. The radio station stayed on the air but didn't provide much information. About the only news the radio provided was the closing of the commissary and the PX and the movement of all U.S. families living off post onto U.S. installations. Pat Bannon prepared for their departure. Fran Wilson, the wife of the commander of Team Charlie, came over later in the morning. She had to be with someone. Fran had sat alone in her quarters waiting for word on when to leave and where to go. When word didn't come, she gave up and sought some company. Sitting alone with her fears and nothing to do but think about what was happening was driving her crazy-she needed someone to talk to and be with. Fran's coming caused Pat to remember that Sue Garger, the wife of one of Sean's platoon leaders, was still staying alone in a German gasthaus in town. The Gargers had been in country less than a month and were waiting for quarters. Pat had met Sue only once and was afraid that Sue might not have heard the news and, because she was new to the unit, might have been overlooked. She called the number listed for Garger on Sean's alert roster. A German answered. Pat's attempt to talk to him in her broken German amused Fran but finally got results. As they talked, Pat could tell that Sue was lonely and nervous. When Pat invited Sue to stay with her Sue jumped at the offer. Like Fran, fear and loneliness had made the deplorable situation worse for Sue. Leaving Fran to watch the children, Pat took off to pick up Sue.

At the entrance to the housing area there was an MP roadblock. Pat was halted and told she could not leave the area. She tried to explain to the MP that she had to pick up a wife that was living in town. The MP held his ground, insisting that she turn around and go back. Pat decided to escalate and told the private she wanted to speak to his superior. The MP went over to his sergeant and spoke to him a moment. The sergeant came over. "I'm sorry, miss, you can't go off post."

Pat was used to dealing with the military by now and seldom took no for an answer first time out. She had also learned that there were ways of dropping Sean's rank without being pushy or obvious. "Sergeant, like I explained to the other MP, the wife of one of my husband's platoon leaders is at a gasthaus in town and has no way of getting in. I'm simply going to get her. Now, unless you or your commander will go get her, I have to." The sergeant thought about it, then told Pat to wait while he checked with his platoon leader. After a few minutes, he came back and told her to go straight to the gasthaus, pick up the other wife, and come straight back. She was not to stop for anyone or anything else and she was to check back with him when she returned. The speech and precautions worried Pat and made her wonder if this was such a good idea. But she was committed, and Sue Garger was depending on her.

Even for the families of servicemen, the old Army rule of hurry up and wait applied. While Pat was gone, Cathy Hall had called and passed on the word that the evacuation probably would not start until the next day. The Air Force needed some additional time to gear up. To maintain the appearance of normalcy, preparations for the evacuation of dependents had been delayed to the last possible moment. Some of the older wives compared the situation to Iran, where the families were pulled out only at the last minute. Pat was not at all pleased that she and her children had been retained in this country just for appearances but kept her own council. No need to cry over spilt milk now.

As the day wore on and it became apparent that the families were not, in fact, going to go anytime soon, the wives began to visit each other and let the children out to play. Cathy Hall put out the word that she was going to host a potluck dinner for the battalion wives. Most of the wives, with children in tow, showed up.

Even though the conversations were guarded and there was a pall on the whole affair, anything was better than sitting alone and worrying. There was some comfort in collective misery.

By the end of the first day, Pat was physically and mentally exhausted. It seemed that so much depended on her now. With no husband to help her along, she felt uneasy and under pressure. Pressure to be mother and father. Pressure to set the example for Sue and the other wives. Pressure to make sure all was ready to go when the word came. Pressure to tend to the children and ease them through this crisis. Sean had always been around whenever there had been a big crisis in the family or a major decision to be made. But now he was gone and could not help with the biggest crisis Pat had ever faced. Having Sue Garger in the quarters helped. Sue had calmed down some and proved to be a big help with the children. But Sue was as lost as Pat was and still was learning about being in the Army.

So Pat bottled up her fears and apprehensions and continued to stumble along the dark and mapless trail that her family was going down, alone.

The second day dragged along like the first. AFN TV came back on but spent most of the time making public service announcements and broadcasting news that really didn't tell anyone anything. Rain in the afternoon only made the dark and apprehensive mood of the community worse. Word that evacuations would start momentarily kept circulating along with a blizzard of other rumors.

But it wasn't until that evening that official word and instructions for the evacuation of the community came down. It was like a vent had been opened to relieve some of the pressure.

At least now they knew what to do and when it would happen. For the sixth time in two days Pat went over the evacuation kit that had been sitting by the door. Blankets, food, water, cups, diapers, a small first-aid kit, a change of clothes for the boys, two for Sarah, a pocket knife, coloring books for the children, and other "essential" items.

It was telling the children that Pat dreaded the most. She had put this off for as long as possible in the hope that some sanity would prevail and the whole affair would blow over.

But there was no more putting it off. She assembled her children on Sean's bed and sat down with them. She told them that tomorrow they were going to leave Germany and visit Grandma's. Kurt was overcome with joy. He jumped up and down and began to ask what toys he could take. Sarah simply looked at Pat and tried to say Grandma, a word she had heard but could not associate with an object since she had never seen her grandparents.

As anticipated, Sean was the tough case. His first question was about his father, "Is Daddy coming with us?" "No, Daddy's not coming with us.".Why?"

"Daddy has to stay here and work. Remember I told you he went to the field? Well, he is still in the field with his company. He can't come with us this time."

"When will we see Daddy again?"

"Daddy will come and join us when he is finished in the field." "When will that be?"

Pat was fast becoming exasperated. The boy was concerned, and she felt sorry for him because all that was going on so dwarfed him. But the line of questions only heightened her own fears and apprehensions. Before she lost her restraint and began to cry, Pat cut short the question-andanswer period and told Sean that his father would be home as soon as he could. This didn't satisfy Sean, but it was the best Pat could do.

The morning continued with little change. The heat of the day was turning the tank into an oven. The chemical suits only made things worse. Bannon began to let two men out at a time to stretch, smoke, cool off, and eat. During his break he walked over to check on the 33 tank. The TC was also rotating his crew out. Just after noon, Polgar came over to 66 from Mech Platoon's mounted element to report. Bannon and Polgar were joined by the battalion commander and S-3, who came rolling up the logging trail in their M-113. Apparently, they were also bored and getting a little antsy with nothing to do but watch and wait. While the colonel went to visit his Mech Platoon on foot, the S-3, Maj. Frank Jordan, brought Bannon up to speed on the status of the covering force battle.

The cavalry was taking a beating and wouldn't last much longer. They had fought the first attacking echelon to a standstill and had badly weakened it. But they had paid for that success, as the parade of ambulances and evacuation of damaged vehicles, coming down the opposite hill through the village and down the small valley to the rear, indicated. Brigade was anticipating a passage of lines sometime in the late afternoon. The cavalry wanted to hold on until night in order to withdraw under the cover of darkness. But the bets were against them. The colonel rejoined the others, made some small talk, and then left with the S-3.

Rather than waiting out the afternoon doing nothing, Bannon decided to visit the platoons.

The battalion commander had just been by and it was going to be a while before the cavalry came through. This was as good a time as any to show his face, to check on the rest of the Team to see how they were adapting to war, and to pass the word to be prepared for the passage of the cavalry. He told Folk where he was going to be; if a call came in on the battalion net, Folk was to drop to the company net and tell the XO to respond if he hadn't already done so. With helmet, pistol, and LBE, Bannon started his tour.

As he had that morning, Bannon went from tank to tank, working his way to those elements on the left first. When he reached the 31 tank, Bannon went over the information that had been passed to him and reviewed the status of 3rd Platoon with Garger. Then they reviewed the Team's and the platoon's actions during the passage and the conduct of the defense. Bannon was pleasantly surprised to listen to Garger go over each phase of the pending action and line out clearly those actions required of his platoon. Either Pierson had been working overtime with the lieutenant or the boy was catching on. Regardless of how, at least he had the concept of the operation straight in his mind. There was still the question, however, of whether he could make it work.

Even in the shade of the forest, tromping up the hill in the chemical protective suit and the floppy, loose-fitting chemical overshoes was brutal. By the time Bannon reached Uleski's tank, he was beat and needed a rest and a long drink of water. As he settled down in the shade next to 55, Uleski reached down and handed him a can of Coke, a cold can of Coke. Bannon had no idea where it could possibly have come from. He probably didn't want to know, either-something that good had to be illegal somehow. As he rested, Bannon went over not only the plan for the Team but also the battalion with Uleski. If he became combat ineffective, a subtle way of saying wounded or killed, Uleski, the XO, would have to be able to fight the Team within the framework of the battalion's battle plan as effectively as Bannon. In the Army, everyone was supposed to be expendable and replaceable. While it was not a comforting thought, it was part of the job and, in theory at least, universally understood.

Finishing with Uleski, Bannon toyed with the idea of letting the XO go over to 2nd Platoon to check them and pass on the word about the cavalry. It was tempting. But 2nd Platoon was the one platoon he had not seen that morning. It was only proper that an effort should be made to visit them. As with 3rd Platoon, Bannon stopped at each tank, checked on their readiness, and exchanged small talk. When he reached the platoon leader's tank Bannon passed on word about the cavalry and reviewed the Team and platoon plan with him. No sooner had they finished when the hills across the valley erupted in a thunderclap of explosions and flames. The Soviets were committing their second echelon. It would not be long now. Bannon tromped on back to the 66 tank as fast as his floppy chemical overshoes would let him.

The cavalry had not lasted as long as had been expected. The fresh battalions of the Soviet's second attacking echelon broke the worn and severely weakened cavalry like a dry twig. Thirty minutes after the second echelon struck, it was obvious that the covering force battle was over, and it was time for the cavalry to pass through the Team's positions. The lazy, boring late morning and early afternoon gave way to a steady buildup of tension as the cavalry began the process of handing off the battle.

The first elements through were the support elements: medical, maintenance, and supply vehicles. These were followed by artillery units and headquarters elements. The passage was not the neat paradelike processions practiced during training. Vehicles would come down singly, in pairs, sometimes in groups as large as fifteen. Some were dragging damaged vehicles. Some were limping or wobbling along like drunks, all showed some sign of damage. Trucks had their canvas tops shredded. Tracked vehicles that had had gear stowed on the outside now had it scrambled and tossed about on top, with articles of clothing hanging from the sides. There were even a couple of trucks running on tire rims, unable or unwilling to stop to change tires. If there was any semblance of order to the cavalry unit passing through the Team, it was not evident from where Bannon was watching.

During the passage, a scout helicopter, followed by two attack helicopters, came weaving down through the valley from the north. The three slowed to a hover, with the scout across from 66 and an AH IS Cobra attack helicopter on either side.

The OH-58 scout slowly rose until it was just barely peering over the trees on the opposite hill. Its tail-boom moved- slowly left, then right, as it scanned the landscape on the other side of the hill. Like a bird dog alerting, the scout froze, pointing to the northeast. The Cobra on the left rose slowly to treetop level, hovered there for a moment, orienting in the same direction as the scout. With a flash and streak of white smoke, the Cobra let fly a TOW antitank missile. The Cobra remained in place for about fifteen seconds, then dropped down and flew a few hundred meters north to another position, preparing to fire again. The second Cobra rose into position as soon as the first had fired. The second also fired, remained locked on target for about fifteen seconds, and then dropped down and moved to another position just as the first had done. By that time, the first Cobra was ready to pop up from his new position and fire again.

After each Cobra had fired two TOWs, they flew back up the valley behind their scout to find a new firing position.

The thought that the Soviet lead elements were now close enough to be engaged by TOWs from across the valley startled Bannon. That meant that the enemy was now within five kilometers. To add weight to that point, friendly artillery from a unit behind the Team's position came whistling overhead to the east. The adrenalin started to pump. Across the valley the first undamaged cavalry combat vehicles came racing back from the opposite hill. M-l tanks and M-3 Bradley cavalry vehicles, mixed together, their guns to the rear and their orange identification panels flapping as they moved, came rolling through the lanes marked in the Team's minefields and into the village. These vehicles looked worse than those that had preceded them. The ordeal for the cavalry wasn't over yet. As the first vehicles entered the village, the streets erupted into a ball of flames and explosions. The Soviets were firing at least a battalion's worth of artillery against the town. The initial impacts were followed by a steady stream of artillery shells impacting every few seconds. Bannon had no idea of the caliber of rounds they were using nor how many were impacting. Not that he needed to know. Without doubt, the battalion commander was able to see it from his position. Bannon's immediate concern was his first sergeant and the fire team, who were in the village in the middle of all that fire.

"ROMEO 25-THIS IS MIKE 77-SHELLREPOVER." Garger was on the ball. Reporting per the Team SOP, the lieutenant was calling to inform him of the artillery barrage to their front.

Garger hadn't considered that Bannon, from his position, would be able to see the same thing. The fact that he was at least thinking of the SOP and had the presence of mind to report, however, was encouraging.

"ALL BRAVO 3 ROMEO ELEMENTS-THIS IS ROMEO 25-1 CAN OBSERVE THE ACTION AT 179872 — NO NEED TO REPORT THAT."

Bannon let the CVC push-to-talk switch go for a few seconds to frustrate Soviet direction-finding attempts, then started again.

"OCCUPY YOUR FIRING POSITIONS NOW-I SAY AGAIN OCCUPY YOUR FIRING POSITIONS NOW-THE RUSSIANS WILL BE RIGHT BEHIND THOSE PEOPLE COMING THROUGH-ACKNOWLEDGE-OVER. "

The platoons rapidly responded. The tracks to the left and right of 66 cranked up and pulled forward. In their excitement, some of them forgot about their camouflage nets. Bannon watched the 33 tank as the net supports tumbled and the net stretched forward as if it were a large spider web stuck to the tank. Once the stakes were yanked free, the net trailed the tank limply. In a belated plea, Bannon called over the company net to remind the platoons to remember the nets. Then he and Kelp jumped out, dragged theirs in, and jumped back into position.

The battalion net now came to life as the battalion Scout Platoon began to report sighting, then contact with the lead enemy element. As Team Yankee's artillery fire-support team, or FIST, was detached to the Scout Platoon while they were deployed forward, Bannon listened intently, hoping he wouldn't lose that valuable combat asset. The Scout Platoon's mission was to cover the withdrawal of the last of the cavalry, engage the enemy's lead elements in an effort to deceive them as to where the covering force area ended and the main battle area, or MBA, began, and then withdraw through Team Yankee. Their fight was to be short but important. Once they started firing, the battle had passed from the cavalry to the battalion. Though it still had to roll through sporadic artillery fire impacting in the village and up the little valley to the Team's right, the cavalry's battle was over. Team Yankee's first battle was about to begin.

The radio on the Team net came to life as First Sergeant Harrert called, "ROMEO 25-THIS IS ROMEO 97 OVER." He was still in the village and still alive.

"ROMEO 97-THIS IS ROMEO 25-WHAT KIND OF SHAPE ARE YOU IN7-OVER." "THIS IS 97-1 HAVE ONE WHISKEY INDIA APLHA-THE NOVEMBER 8 TANGO ELEMENT HAS COMPLETED PASSAGE-WAITING ON THE TANGO 9 FOXTROT ELEMENT NOW-OVER."

"THIS IS 25-DO YOU NEED THE BANDAID FOR THE CASUALTY7-OVER."

"THIS IS 97-NEGATIVE-HE CAN WAITOVER."

"THIS IS 25-THE TANGO 9 FOXTROT ELEMENT IS NOW IN CONTACT-I EXPECT THEM TO START BACK WITHIN THREE ZERO MIKES-HANG IN THERE-OVER."

"THIS IS 97-WILCO-OVER."

So far everything was working according to plan. In their haste to occupy firing positions, the Team had probably screwed up most of its camouflage nets. But right now, that was the least of Bannon's worries. He continued to listen to the Scout Platoon's fight, now being joined by reports from Team Bravo. Team Bravo, occupying the hill across the small valley from Team Yankee, was under fire from several battalions' worth of Soviet artillery. The initial and frantic report from the Team Bravo commander over the battalion radio net was cut off in mid-sentence. Attempts by the battalion S-3 to reestablish contact with Team Bravo failed. That meant that either its command track had had its antennas blown off or it had been hit.

The 1st Tank Platoon of Team Yankee was attached to Team Bravo. The I st Platoon was probably in the middle of the impact area, judging from the fragmented report Bannon had monitored. Although he was concerned that some of his people were under fire, there was nothing that he could do. The thought "Better them than me," flashed through his mind. For a moment, Bannon was ashamed that he could harbor such a selfish thought. However, he immediately was able to rationalize by reminding himself that he was only human. With that, he turned his attention to more immediate and pressing problems.

Reports from the scouts continued to come in. One of the scout tracks had been hit, and contact with another had been lost. From the reported locations of the enemy's lead element, the scouts weren't slowing him down. Finally, the scout platoon leader requested permission to displace. Realizing that leaving the scouts out there wasn't going to do the battalion any good, the battalion commander gave his permission to withdraw.

Unfortunately, this permission had come too late. The barriers and artillery that were supposed to slow the Soviet advance and allow the Scout Platoon a chance to pass through Team Yankee didn't slow the enemy. Ignoring losses inflicted on them by mines, artillery, and the Scout Platoon, the Soviets pushed forward. They were hell-bent for leather to break through and intended to do so regardless of the price. The Scout Platoon leader informed the battalion commander that rather than try for the passage through Team Yankee, he was going to withdraw to the south and cross at an alternate passage point.

This was not a good turn of events for the Team. With the scouts went Team Yankee's artillery FIST Team. Bannon had never been keen on the idea of letting his FIST go with the scouts, pointing out that they might not be able to rejoin the Team. But he had always been reassured that the FIST track would be back long before Team Yankee had any contact.

This was one time he was sorry he had been right. Not only did he have to fight the Team, now he also had to play forward observer. Contacting the battalion S-3, Bannon asked him if he had any bright ideas on the subject. Major Jordan informed him that Team Yankee now had priority of artillery fire and all calls for fire would be directed to the battalion fire-support officer, or FSO. Jordan also informed him that Team Bravo had taken a lot of casualties, including its commander, who was dead. The battalion commander was going over to Team Bravo to attempt to rally the survivors. In the meantime, battalion was writing off Team Bravo as combat ineffective. Both the S-3 and the battalion commander were depending on Team Yankee to carry the fight.

Two company teams fighting a motorized rifle battalion would have been no problem. But one company team, even with priority of artillery fire, would have a hard time.

Bannon contacted the battalion fire-support officer and made sure he had all the Team's preplanned artillery targets. The FSO had them. Quickly they reviewed his plans for fire support.

Bannon intended to let the Soviet lead elements reach the valley floor. When that happened, the Team would engage them with both tank platoons and the ITVs simultaneously. The 2nd Platoon would engage the lead element, the 3rd Platoon would hit the enemy still on the opposite slope, and the ITVs would engage supporting vehicles on the far hill. He wanted the artillery to impact along the crest of the opposite hill at the same time the Team began to fire. First, DPICM, an artillery shell that scattered many small armordefeating bomblets, would be fired in order to take out as many Soviet PCs and self-propelled guns as possible. Then the artillery would fire high explosives, HE, and smoke rounds, laying down a smoke screen to blind any Soviet antitank system or artillery observers that might take up position there to engage the Team. That would leave the Team free to slug it out with only a portion of their force isolated from the rest. The FSO assured Bannon the artillery could handle the mission. All he needed was the word. A sudden detonation in the village followed by the hasty retreat of alone PC out of the village back to the Team's positions reminded Bannon that the first sergeant hadn't been told to blow the bridge in the town and withdraw. In the scramble to sort out the artillery fire plan he had forgotten the first sergeant. Fortunately, either Harrert had monitored the battalion net, figured out what was going on, and taken the initiative, or Uleski had ordered him out after hearing that the scouts would not be returning on the planned route. Either way, it worked out, and the first sergeant was headed back.

"ROMEO 25-THIS IS MIKE 77-SPOT REPORT-5 T-72 TANKS MOVING WEST-GRID 190852-CONTINUING TO OBSERVE-OVER."

Bannon snapped his head to the left. There was no need to use a map. There was only one place where the Russians would be, and that was on the hill 2200 meters away. All the training, planning, and preparations were over. Team Yankee was about to learn if the Team's seventy-nine men and twenty-five million dollars worth of equipment could do what they were supposed to do: close with and destroy the enemy by fire, maneuver, and shock effect.

The five T-72 tanks began their descent into the valley in a line with about 100 meters between tanks. One of them had a mine roller attached to the front of its hull. He would have to be taken out in the first volley. As soon as the tanks started down, a line of Soviet armored personnel carriers, BMP-2s, appeared on the crest of the hill and followed the tanks down. There were fifteen of these personnel carriers deployed in a rough line about one hundred meters behind the tanks. The tanks and the BMPs moved down the opposite slope at a steady and somewhat restrained pace, as if they really didn't want to go into the valley, or they didn't want to get too far ahead of follow-on elements.

A third group of follow-on vehicles appeared. These were a gaggle of dissimilar armored vehicles. As they reached the crest of the hill, they paused for a moment. Just before they started their descent, the tanks and the BMPs in front made a sharp oblique to the left and headed for the north side of the village. With one BMP, a T-72, a BTR-60, followed by an MTU bridge tank and a ZSU 23-4 antiaircraft gun, this could only be the battalion command group.

The scene before Team Yankee was too good to be true. For some unknown reason the Team had not been hit by artillery yet. The Soviets were rolling forward as if they were on maneuvers, not attack. Their change in direction offered most of the Team flank shots. And the actions by the command group had telegraphed who they were. If luck held for another minute or two, it would be all over for this motorized rifle battalion.

"ROMEO 83-THIS IS ROMEO 25-DO YOU SEE THAT LAST GAGGLE COMING DOWN THE HILLOVER."

" 25-THIS IS 83-ROGER-OVER."

"83-THIS IS 25-THAT IS THE COMMAND GROUP-I WANT YOU AND THE TWO TRACKS YOU HAVE UP THERE TO TAKE THEM OUT-THE BMP AND TANK FIRST-OVER."

"THIS IS 83-WILCO."

Uleski considered this last order before he relayed instructions to the ITVs. He paused for a moment and watched the advancing Soviets. The 55 was silent except for the hum of the engine. Uleski could feel the tension build up in himself and his crew. In the past, he had always been able to crack a joke or say something funny to lighten the pressures of a tense moment. But he couldn't, not this time. It suddenly dawned upon him that this was real. The tanks and BMPs were manned with real Soviets and they were coming his way.

Despite the heat of the day, Uleski felt a cold shiver run down his spine. His stomach began to knot up and he felt as if he were going to throw up. It was real, all real. In a minute, maybe two, all hell was going to break loose and he was right in the middle of it. Uleskifs head, flooded with disjointed thoughts, began to spin, with one thought coming back over and over, "Oh God, please make this go away."

When Bannon had finished with Uleski, he switched to the battalion net and instructed the FSO to fire the prearranged artillery barrage. When the FSO acknowledged the request, Bannon went back to the Team net, "ALL BRAVO 3 ROMEO ELEMENTS-UPON IMPACT OF FRIENDLY ARTILLERY, YOU WILL COMMENCE FIRINGMAINTAIN FIRE DISTRIBUTION AND GOOD SHOOTING-ROMEO 25 OUT."

This last message neither upset nor unnerved Garger. Without bothering to acknowledge the commander's orders, Garger switched to the platoon net and issued his own. The clear, sunny day, with the sun to the 3rd Platoon's back, made it all too easy. All the BMPs were exposed to the entire platoon. Garger ordered Pierso and Pierso's wingman, the 33 tank, to engage the right half of the BMPs. Garger instructed his own wingman, Blackfoot, to begin to engage the far left BMP and then work his way toward the center of the line. He would begin in the center and work his way to the left. In this way, the platoon would avoid killing the same BMP.

With nothing to do but wait for the artillery, Garger leaned back and considered the scene before him. This was easier than the Armor School at Fort Knox. It couldn't be that simple.

There had to be a catch. The Soviets were coming at them as if the Team wasn't there.

Garger tried hard to think if there was something he had missed, an order to be given.

Something. But there wasn't. All seemed to be in order. All was ready. "What the hell," he thought. "Might as well relax and enjoy the moment."

In the Mech Platoon's positions Sergeant First Class Polgar grasped the hand grips of his M2 machine gun as he watched the Soviets. He was amazed. When he was a young private, Polgar had been in Vietnam two months before he had seen his first VC, and they had been dead VC. In the first day of this war, he was looking at all the Soviets he cared to see. He looked to his left and then to his right at his PCs. The four M-113s with him weren't going to do a hell of a lot if the tanks in the Team fell flat on their ass. As the Soviets drew near, Polgar tracked the Soviets with his M2 and thought, "Those dumb-ass tankers better be as good as they think they are, or this is going to be a damned short war."

The Team was charged and ready. Bannon could feel it. Now, he prepared to fight his own tank crew.

He grabbed the TC's override and traversed the turret to his intended victim, yelling out the fire command without switching on the intercom, "GUNNER-SABOT-TANK WITH MINE ROLLER."

"IDENTIFIED." Folk had the target in his sight.

"UP." Kelp had armed the main gun and was clear of the path of recoil. Bannon knelt down on top of his seat, perched above the gunner and loader, watching through the extension as Folk tracked the T-72. They waited. The enemy continued to advance. And they waited. The line of tanks was now

beginning to reach the valley floor. And they waited. The sweat was rolling down Bannon's face and he was beginning to lose nerve. And they waited. "SPLASH-OVER." The FSO's call on the battalion net heralded the impact of the artillery. Across the valley, the crest of the far hill erupted as hundreds of small bomblets impacted and went off. On target! "FIRE!"

"ON THE WAAAAAY!"

The image of the T-72 disappeared before Bannon's eye in a flash and cloud of smoke as Folk fired. The tank rocked back as the gun recoiled and spit out the spent shell casing.

Kelp hit the ammo door switch with his knee, causing it to slide open with a bang. He hauled out the next round, loaded the gun, and armed it before the dust and obscuration cleared.

When it did, the T-72 with the mine roller was stopped, broadside to 66, and burning furiously.

"TARGET-CEASE FIRE." They had drawn their first blood. "STAND BY GUNNER." Bannon popped his head up to get an overall picture of what was going on. Just as he did, the 33 tank fired a HEAT-T round at a BMP. He watched the tracer streak towards the target and impact with a bright orange flash and black ball of smoke. The BMP lurched forward another few meters then stopped, quivered, and began to burn. Bannon scanned the valley floor and opposite slope watching that scene repeated again and again. When the first round missed a BMP, the BMP would turn away from the impact. This maneuver, however, only added a few more seconds to its life because the second round usually found its mark. He watched as two BMPs, scrambling to avoid being hit, rammed each other and stopped. This calamity only made it easier for Team Yankee's gunners, and both BMPs died within seconds of each other, locked together.

The crest of the far hill had disappeared from view. The smoke and DPICM were doing their jobs. So far, nothing had followed the Soviet command group down. The command group had scattered, but it, too, was suffering. The BMP from the command group was lying on its side, a track hanging off and burning. The tank that had been with it had been hit but had only shed its right track. It stood, immobile but defiant, returning fire towards the headquarters position. This' uneven contest, however, did not last long. In return, the T-72 received a TOW missile that detonated at the turret ring and ripped the turret off with a thunderous explosion.

"I have a BMP in my sights, can I engage." Folk was impatient. Bannon knelt down, glanced at Kelp to ensure he was clear, checked that the gun was armed, and gave the command to fire. Folk gave an on-the-way and fired. The rock and recoil shook the tank. A glance in the extension told him that Folk had been on the mark again. Another BMP crew and infantry squad had become heroes of the Soviet Union, posthumously. "Sergeant Folk, find your own targets, if there are any left, and engage at will. Just make sure you're not killing dead tracks."

"Yes, sir!" His reply had a glee in it that reminded Bannon of a teenager who had just been given the keys to the family car. Bannon popped up again to survey the battlefield.

The devastation in the valley was awesome. Over twenty armored vehicles lay strewn there, dismembered, twisted, burning hulks. Folk had nothing to engage. The lead echelon of the motorized battalion had been annihilated. Six T-72 tanks, sixteen BMPs, a BTR-60, a ZSU 23-4, and an MTU bridge launcher, along with almost two hundred Russian soldiers, were gone. The engagement had lasted less than four minutes. Team Yankee had won its first battle.