Team Yankee

CHAPTER THREE Change of Mission

When the decision to evacuate military dependents from Europe was finally made after countless delays and hesitations, there was a rush of frantic and seemingly uncoordinated activity to get it done before hostilities broke out. The drive to Rhein-Main, which normally took one hour, on that evening took nearly four. There was solid traffic on the autobahn from the time Pat Bannon and the others left the housing area until they pulled into the Air Base.

The regular German police, reinforced with military personnel, had established checkpoints along the route. At every checkpoint the NCO on the bus had to present his paperwork before being cleared through. Pat noticed that the Germans were retaining some people at one checkpoint. There was a stationary car riddled with bullet holes on the autobahn's median. Next to it a white sheet with red blotches covered a mound. No one could imagine what offense could have caused such a response by the Germans. Whatever the reason, the fact that the Germans were ready to use their ever-present submachine guns highlighted the seriousness of the situation. The last checkpoint was at the main gate of Rhein-Main. Before the bus was allowed to enter, Air Force security personnel boarded the bus and checked everyone's ID card.

They, too, had their weapons at the ready. Two more security personnel had the bus driver open the baggage compartments of the bus. While one of the security officers checked them and the driver, the other stood back and covered the driver with his weapon. The German police on duty at the gate with the U.S. personnel were questioning two women off to one side. Pat guessed that they there German nationals trying to get out with the U.S. families.

The Air Base was swarming with activity. At one of the intersections, the bus was stopped while a line of trucks rolled by, coming up from the flight line and heading to a back gate. In the trucks were U.S. troops, reinforcements from the States deployed under the REFORGER program. Pat guessed that the dependents would fly back on the same planes that were bringing these troops in. Maybe this nightmare was almost over. At least they were now at the last stop on this side of the Atlantic. Instead of going to the terminal, however, the buses dropped them off at the post gym. There were already a large number of people there. On the gym floor, rows of cots with blankets were set up. As at the post theater, the families were grouped by unit. Some of the women from the battalion who had come up on the first group of buses had established an area for the families from each of the units. The new arrivals were told that since the terminal was already overflowing with evacuees, they had been sent to the gym until it was their turn to go. Pat was told that the Air Force personnel running the evacuation were better and more helpful than the Army community personnel but were having difficulties dealing with all the incoming families that were being dumped at Rhein-Main. One Air Force officer had told them that the people in the gym probably wouldn't leave until the morning.

This depressed Pat. She, like the other wives and mothers, was ready to go. They had finally geared themselves up for the final leap. Now, they had to spend a night in an open gym with hundreds of other dejected and anxious people. It seemed that every new move only added more stress and pressure. The situation, however deplorable, had to be endured. Pat decided that she could hold out a little longer. She had to. A little group was beginning to depend on her. And it was growing. Jane Ortelli, the wife of Sean's tank driver, joined them. She was nineteen years old and had never been out of the state of New Jersey until she came over to Germany. Jane stood at the side before boarding the bus, clutching her four-month-old baby as she would a teddy bear, for security and comfort. Pat went over to her and insisted that she join them since they were all going on the same bus. Jane was thankful and relieved.

A little girl named Debby had also joined the group. Debby's only parent was a medic who had been deployed to the border with everyone else. Fran Wilson had volunteered to escort the eight-year-old girl back to the States where her grandparents would meet her.

Pat and her group established themselves a little area by taking eight of the cots and pushing them together. The four adults stationed themselves on the corner cots and put the children in the middle. Jane kept her baby with her, not wanting to part for a moment with the only thing of value she had on earth. Sarah, overcoming her fears, insisted on having her own cot, just like her brothers. Sean and Debby stayed together. Sean, despite being a year younger, took over the role of big brother and helped Debby. He tried to explain everything to her like his father had to him, even though he had no idea what he was talking about. Debby would listen intently to every word as if it were gospel, then ask Sean another question. But at least Debby was talking now and seemed to be more at ease. Kurt insisted on staying near his buddy Sue. He was enjoying all the attention Sue was giving him.

There was little rest that night. Fear, apprehension, discomfort, and a desire to get on with the evacuation kept the adults awake while the adventure of the trip kept the children alert and active. Some of the adults talked in hushed voices, seeking company and escape from their fears. Others simply withdrew into themselves, no longer able to cope with the grim reality they found themselves in. Pat prayed that all this would end tomorrow. It had to. There was only so much more that she could give and hold back. It had to end, soon. Only exhaustion allowed her to get a few hours sleep.

Movement to the terminal began early. Groups left in the order in which they arrived. Pat and her little group had time for breakfast before their turn. Everyone was tired. It had been nearly impossible for anyone to get a good night's rest. Cold meals, little sleep, overcrowded conditions, wearing the same clothes they had slept in, and the trauma of the whole ordeal had worn women and children down to the point of exhaustion. Pat could not remember a time when she had been more tired and miserable. The ride to the terminal was a quiet one.

The passage of thousands of evacuees before them had left its mark on the terminal. The clean, modern building that had greeted Pat and Sean on their arrival in Germany was now strewn with litter and discarded blankets and clothes. Those who had left the gym before them were inside the terminal mixing with the evacuees that had spent the night there.

Looking- around as they entered, Pat decided that, though the gym had been miserable, staying here would have been worse.

At the door, an airman took their names, gave them a roster number and directed them to the second floor where they would wait until their numbers were called. From the second floor at least they could look out onto the airfield and watch the aircraft coming in. To one side of the flight line there were trucks and buses waiting to pick up the newly arrived troops arriving from the States. Pat and the children watched as a large C-141 transport taxied to a stop. Its large clamshell doors opened, reminding Pat of an alligator. As soon as the cargo ramp was down, troops began to double time out and fall in on their NCOs, forming squads and platoons. Once formed, they began to move to the trucks and load up. While the troops were still deplaning, Air Force personnel scrambled out to service the aircraft. A fuel tanker lumbered up and began to refuel the aircraft. Everyone seemed anxious to get the C-141 turned around and on its way.

A female voice began to call out roster numbers over the PA and give instructions. None of Pat's little group heard their numbers called. So they stayed where they were and watched the lucky ones move onto the airfield, form into two lines, and move out to the C-141. The ground crew finished up and moved into position to service the next aircraft that was already coming in, a huge C-5. The sight of that plane caused excitement. Fran turned to Pat and said she was sure they would be able to get on that one. Inside, Pat prayed that would happen.

For a moment there was almost total silence in the valley in front of Team Yankee's positions. It was a dull, numb silence that comes after you have endured prolonged exposure to a deafening noise. The crackle and popping of small arms ammunition igniting in the burning Soviet tracks, with an occasional rumble as a main gun round cooked off, was all the noise that rose from the valley. Distance and CVCs hid the moans and screams of agony of those wounded or burning to death in their disabled tracks. The report of a machine gun from the right alerted Bannon to the fact that not all the Soviets were hors de combat. He watched as a stream of tracers struck short, then climbed into a group of four Russians trying to make their way back up the hill. As soon as the firer found the range, he let go a long burst in the center of the group. While some rounds kicked up dirt, a few found their mark, causing the Russians to either spin around, drop and roll back downhill, or simply plop down.

For a moment he thought of ordering the firing to stop. The Russians had suffered enough.

But quickly this humanitarian thought gave way to cold, practical, professional considerations. If these survivors were allowed to live, they would only fall in on equipment in storage or being produced. Team Yankee would never see them again, but another NATO company would. They were at war, a war the Soviets had started. The Soviets must pay.

Reports started to come in over the company net as other tanks began to search out and destroy the Russian fugitives. Both tank platoons reported in with no losses, a total main gun expenditure of thirty-seven rounds, and inflated kill reports. Only the launcher on one of the ITVs had been hit and destroyed. The ITV crew was untouched and the track was still operational. But without its launcher and sight, the ITV was worthless to the Team. Bannon instructed Uleski to have that crew pass all the TOW rounds that it could handle to the operational ITV, then have the damaged ITV report back to the maintenance collection point.

He then called the battalion S-3 and passed the Team situation report, or SITREP, to him.

With the reports and status of the unit in hand, Bannon ordered the Team to cease fire and move to alternate firing positions. The smoke screen along the crest of the far hill was lifting, and the third company of the Soviet motorized rifle battalion was unaccounted for. The possibilities of where it was and what it was doing ran through his mind. The lead units, instead of having eight tanks and twenty BMPs, had had only five tanks and fifteen BMPs. Perhaps the Soviet motorized battalion had suffered so many losses in their fight with the cavalry that it had merged all its companies into two weak, composite companies. Or perhaps, listening to the demise of the rest of the battalion had convinced the third company commander that he stood a better chance against the KGB than against the Americans. Or perhaps the Soviet company commander decided to stop on the crest of the hill and engage his yet-unseen opponent in a long-range duel once the smoke cleared and while he waited for reinforcements. Whatever the case, it was now his move. The Team prepared to parry that move.

While Bannon was pondering the larger tactical questions, Kelp stood up in his hatch. Using the binoculars, he surveyed the carnage he had helped create. As Kelp looked, Folk slowly traversed the turret, doing likewise. Ortelli, because the valley was hidden from his view by the berm that protected 66's hull, asked the other two crewmen to describe the scene.

Talking in hushed voices so as not to disturb their commander's train of thought, Folk and Kelp described the scene in a gruesome, if colorful, manner. Folk was particularly proud of "his" destruction of the T-72 with mine roller and made sure that Kelp identified it.

Ortelli wanted to come up and see what it looked like but knew better than to ask. He dropped hints but received no response. At times, it was difficult to be the crew of the Team commander's tank. Bannon was seldom there to help in the maintenance of the tank or weapons. Yet the tank, radios, and gear always had to be ready whenever he came running up and climbed aboard, or there was. hell to pay. And the crew had to be straighter and more correct than the crews in other tanks. It's not that team commanders are ogres.

Commanders share an easier and closer relationship with their crew than they do with other tankers in the company. But the commander is still the commander and this thought is never far from the crew's, or commander's, minds.

Uleski was only beginning to calm down. He felt drained, physically and mentally. It was all he could do to lift his canteen and take a mouthful of water. Swishing this around for a moment, he spit it out over the side of the tank. The taste of vomit still lingered, but it wasn't nearly as bad. After replacing his canteen, he sat there for a moment and watched the crewmen from the ITVs move from one track to the other, carrying rounds to the undamaged vehicle. It was late afternoon, the sun was softly filtering down through the trees. Except for an occasional pop or bang from ammunition cooking off in the valley below, all was quiet, all peaceful. The XO thought about how nice it would be if it could be over, just for a day, just an hour, just enough time for him to pull himself together. A blinding flash and an overwhelming blast struck Uleski and knocked him back. Instinctively, he allowed himself to drop down to the turret floor as the soft green image of the forest disintegrated into flames and explosions.

The Soviet major was completely flustered. Nothing, absolutely nothing had gone right that day. First, the traffic regulators had misdirected their column before the attack. They had almost crossed the border before the scheduled attack time. It took the rest of the morning to get them turned around and back to their proper place. Then the resistance of the American cavalry was far greater than expected. The division's second echelon, to which the major's battalion belonged, had to be committed before the division's first objective was reached. The delay required a complete revision of the plan, a plan that had been drilled and practiced for months. Artillery units were now in the wrong place and did not have the detailed fire plans needed to support a breakthrough attack properly. And to top off the whole day, the major's battalion commander had managed to get himself killed, leaving the major in command.

The major was in a dark mood. Not even the sight of burning American equipment cheered him. He had already seen far too much destroyed Soviet equipment. His orders and mission kept running through his mind. They were simple enough-cross a major valley, advance up a small side valley, and seize the regiment's objective, an intersection where two autobahns met. But the major had not been given any time to plan properly, recon, or coordinate for artillery support. The regimental commander, under pressure from his commander, merely told the major to move as rapidly as possible and that all the artillery planning would be taken care of for him. Even the battalion's political officer balked when they were told that a battalion, attacking in the same place earlier, had failed. There was, however, nothing to do but to follow orders and hope for the best. The major put all his faith in the effects of the chemical weapons being used and his attack from an unexpected direction. As they neared the line of departure, he took one more look around at the mass of vehicles huddled near his and then closed his hatch.

Bannon's wandering thoughts were jarred back to the present by the impacts of artillery to his left on Team Yankee's hill. He could not see anything but had no doubt that the headquarters position and possibly the 2nd Platoon position were under fire. A second attack was starting. "GAS! GAS! GAS!" The muffled cry by someone in a protective mask on the Team net electrified the crew of 66.

As one, they tore open their protective mask cases and scrambled to mask. First, the CVC came off. Then the mask, chin first, emplaced. Once on securely, the hood had to be pulled over. Next, the CVC placed back on and the protective mask's mike jack plugged into the CVC. All this had to be done in less than twenty seconds.

"ROMEO 25-THIS IS TANGO 77-SHELL REPOVER."

"TANGO 77-THIS IS ROMEO 25-SEND IT."

"THIS IS TANGO 77-HE AND GAS IMPACTING FROM 190896 TO 199893-CALIBER AND NUMBER OF ROUNDS UNKNOWN-OVER."

From the coordinates given, Bannon knew that the 2nd Platoon leader, who was making the report, and his platoon were safe. But the XO and the ITVs were catching hell. Because the Soviets were only firing up the hilltop and not at the actual positions of the Team's two tank platoons, it was obvious that they did not know for sure where the Team was. The Soviets were firing blind. While that was good for the Team overall, Bannon had no doubt that that thought was cold comfort for Uleski and his people. Provided, of course, that Uleski was still alive.

"TANGO 77-THIS IS ROMEO 25-1 NEED AN NBC-1 REPORT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE-OVER."

"ROMEO 25-THIS IS TANGO 77-WE'RE WORKING IT UP NOW-OVER."

The Team had not been informed by battalion that the Soviets were using chemical weapons. It may have been an oversight on their part. Just in case, Bannon needed to pass on information about the attack as soon as possible. This new aspect only promised to make their existence more intolerable. Bannon decided not to wait for the complete report from 2nd Platoon before informing battalion. This information caused a great deal of concern on the battalion net. Judging from the pitch of the voices and the excited chatter, Team Yankee had been the first unit within the brigade to be hit by chemical weapons. The snap analysis was that the Soviets were anxious to make a breakthrough and were getting desperate. The chemical attack, the massive artillery barrage, and the loss of contact with the XO and the ITVs seemed to signal a change in the Team's fortunes.

The shadows in the valley were getting long. Early evening was upon them, and there was no end of the Soviet attack in sight. The barrage on the hill had been going on unabated for ten minutes without letup. The 2nd Platoon sent up its NBC-1 report indicating that the Soviets were using GB, a nonpersistent blood agent. While that particular agent would not last once the attack was over, GB broke down the protective mask filters rapidly, making them useless. The Team would need to change filters quickly or suffer mass casualties in the next chemical attack.

To Bannon's surprise, another Soviet artillery unit began to lay down a massive smoke screen just in front of the Team's positions. They were going to attack soon. Bannon had expected the Soviets to wait until night to attack. But apparently they were being pushed by their commanders to break through and could not wait. Not that night would have made much of a difference. The gunners in the tank platoons and those manning the Dragons in the Mech Platoon were already switching to their thermal sights. The smoke screen the Soviet gunners were arduously building would offer the attacking force scant protection, if any.

The 2nd Platoon reported the new attack first. At a range of 2500 meters, the Soviet vehicles appeared as green blobs in the thermal sights. The Soviets were emerging from the tree line on the hill to the Team's right front, across from Team Bravo. They were either going to go straight into the village or through Team Bravo's position. Bannon informed the battalion S-3 of the enemy's appearance and direction of attack. The S-3 replied that Team Bravo was in no shape to fight. With only two functional tanks and three Dragon teams, Bravo would be pressed to protect itself, let alone stop a determined attack. Team Yankee would have to do the major portion of the fighting again.

Because of the range and the quality of the image produced on the thermal sight, it was impossible to distinguish which of the attacking blobs were tanks and which were BMPs.

Bannon ordered the 2nd Platoon to engage the lead vehicles with SABOT, assuming that the Soviets would lead off with tanks. The 3rd Platoon was to fire over the village at the center and rear of the attacking formation as it came out from the tree line. They would engage with HEAT on the assumption that the BMPs would follow their doctrine. The Mech Platoon stood ready to catch anything that got through. With no time left for a coordinated ambush like the one the Team had used for the first echelon, Bannon gave the platoons permission to fire and then began to work on getting some friendly artillery into the act.

As the firing commenced, Bannon fumbled with map and grease pencil in the confined space in which a tank commander has to work. The rubber gloves and the protective mask only made it more awkward. As he searched his map for an appropriate artillery target reference point, the hose of his protective mask kept flopping down in front of him, obstructing his view of the map. He had to stop and fling the protective mask carrier, containing the filter, over his shoulder to get the hose out of the way. This succeeded in clearing his view of the map but now the weight of the filter pulled at the hose and kept pulling his head over to one side. That he was able to accomplish anything amazed him. But he succeeded in finding a suitable target reference point, contacted the FSO, and got the call for fire in.

The second attack had caught Garger by surprise. He had not expected the Soviets to be foolish enough to continue the attack in this sector. He had read that the Soviets never reinforce defeat. It was a practice in the Red Army to push everything into the attack that succeeded. They had not succeeded before, and Garger was confident they would not succeed now. Even the artillery impacting to his right, close enough so that the shock waves could be felt, did not alter his opinion. Garger listened to the Team commander's orders and acknowledged them. He sized up the Soviet force that he was to engage and issued his instructions to the platoon. Then he got down to the serious business of killing Russians.

With artillery on the way, Bannon had to catch up on the battle. He called each platoon leader for a SITREP. The 2nd Platoon reported destroying six vehicles but had been unable to stop five vehicles that had disappeared south of the village. Bannon assumed that these tracks were going to swing south, using the village for cover, and either try for the small valley or go up the hill where Team Bravo was. The Mech Platoon had to be ready to deal with them.

The 3rd Platoon, being at closer range, was enjoying a higher percentage of first-round hits. They had dealt easily with the tracks on the slope and were now playing a cat-and-mouse game with Soviet tracks still emerging from the tree line. Observing through his extension, Bannon watched as the 3rd Platoon allowed two or three Soviet tracks to emerge and start down the hill. When they were 100 meters or so from any cover, the whole platoon would fire. In a flash the Soviet tracks, still appearing as green blobs in the thermal sight, would stop, then grow greener as the heat of onboard fires provided a clearer, more intense thermal image.

A Spot Report from Harding, the Mech Platoon leader, alerted Bannon to the fact that the five Soviet tracks that had disappeared to the south of the village were moving up the small valley. The small Soviet force consisted of two T-72s and three BMPs. The platoon leader's voice betrayed no nervousness or confusion. Bannon felt more apprehensive than Harding.

It would have been far better, Bannon thought, if there were some tanks in the small valley to deal with the T-72s. He had little confidence in the Dragons' ability to stop tanks.

It was a disaster, a bloody disaster, and there wasn't a damned thing the Soviet major could do but carry out the insanity he found himself in to its final conclusion. A quick check revealed that only two tanks and two other BMPs had made it with him across the main valley to the small valley. He had no idea what in the hell he was going to do once he reached his objective. That plan had to wait for now. All he wanted to do was to get out of the Americans' kill zone and seek some cover. The major turned his small force toward a walled farm complex in the small valley in the hope he could find some protection there.

The Mech Platoon was ready. Using sound-powered phones connected in a loop, the platoon leader passed his instructions down to Polgar and the squad leaders. The two Dragons and the dismounted infantry in the farm would take out the two T-72 tanks. Polgar, with his two Dragons and the M2 machine guns, would take out the BMPs and provide suppressive fires. For good measure, in case a Dragon missed its mark, the infantrymen in the farm had light antitank rockets, called LAWs, at the ready.

They allowed the Soviets to advance to within 300 meters of the farm before the Platoon cut loose. At that range, it was very difficult to miss with a Dragon. They didn't. On Hardingfs order, every machine gun and Dragon launcher in the Platoon cut loose. The speed and accuracy with which modern weapons are capable of killing is as awesome as it is frightening. Had they survived the Dragons and the massed machine guns, the Soviets would have been impressed by the performance of the Mech Platoon.

The firing died away slowly. This last fight had lasted some twenty minutes from when the enemy first appeared to when the order came to cease fire. The Soviet artillery barrage on the headquarters position and to the Team's front had stopped. The clearing smoke screen revealed twentythree newly smashed and burning hulks in the valley to the Team's right front.

The eight T-72s and fifteen BMPs amounted to more than a company but less than a motorized rifle battalion. The why of this did not concern them just then. All that was important was that the Soviets had stopped coming. Like two fighters after a round, the opponents were both in their corners, licking their wounds and eyeing each other for the next round.

Reports started to come in from the platoons, but Bannon cut them off and tried to establish commo with Uleski. His calls received no response. Second Lieutenant McAlister, the 2nd Platoon leader, reported that his flank tank could see a burning vehicle to its rear. Bannon immediately contacted First Sergeant Harrert and instructed him to get up to the XO's location with the ambulance and the M-88 recovery vehicle. When the first sergeant acknowledged, Bannon pulled 66 out of position and headed up the hill to the headquarters position. Enroute he checked in with 2nd Platoon to learn if there was still evidence of a chemical agent. McAlister reported that he had no indications of any agent at his location and requested permission to unmask. This was granted. The 3rd Platoon was instructed to do likewise after they had conducted a survey of their area for contamination. Because 66 was headed into the center of where the chemical attack had been directed, the crew remained masked.

As they neared the position, the logging trail that had run behind the position ceased to exist. Shell craters and smashed and uprooted trees dimly lit by the failing light of late evening and small fires blocked their passage. Progress was slow as Ortelli carefully picked his way through the debris. Despite his skill, the craters and irregular pattern into which the trees had fallen threatened to throw one of 66's tracks as they proceeded. Through the shattered forest Bannon could make out a burning vehicle.

The condition of the three tracks that had occupied the headquarters position matched that of the shattered forest. One ITV was lying on its side, burning brightly. Its aluminum armored sides were glowing bright red and collapsing inward. Burning rubber and diesel created a thick, black, rolling cloud of smoke. The TOW launcher of the second ITV was mangled; chunks of electrical components dangled down from the launcher on wires. Set back and in the center of the ITVs was the 55 tank. Moving around on the right side of the tank were several figures. They were unmasked, so 66's crew unmasked as soon as the tank stopped.

Bannon dismounted and moved toward 55. Uleski was kneeling next to a figure on the ground. He looked at Bannon as he approached, then back at the figure. There were three men lying on the ground and two more sitting up next to 55. Even from where Bannon was, he could see that they were wrounded, badly. Two of 55's crew, the gunner and the loader, were working on the wounded men. They were frantic in their efforts, not knowing where to start or how to deal with a body so badly ripped apart.

Bannon's attention was diverted when he stepped on a broken tree branch that gave way under his weight. He looked down, froze, then jumped back in horror. The tree branch was an arm, shredded, torn, and bloody. For a moment, he was unable to do anything except stare at the limb, unable to force himself to think or move. Only when Folk brushed him as he ran by with 66's first-aid kit was he able to proceed. Even then, he walked slowly and carefully, watching where he stepped. The Team's charmed life had run out. It had paid in blood for winning the second round.

After reaching the tank, he looked at each of the wounded men as the crew of 55 and Folk tore at clothing to expose wounds and began to work on them. One of the men had lost a foot. He was in horrible pain, his head rolling from side to side, his arms thrashing the ground next to him. Another soldier beside him simply lay there, not moving. It took a second look to see if he was still breathing. A check of the other three showed they all had their arms. Bannon turned for a moment and surveyed the shattered landscape. The thought that one of his people was out there, smashed and scattered, was repulsive and frightening.

Whoever he was, that soldier was beyond help. There were those who needed more immediate attention. Bannon knelt down beside the body on the ground across from Uleski.

For the first time he looked closely. It was Sp4 Thomas Lorriet, the driver for 55. He was from a small town somewhere in Indiana. Lorriet was motionless. His right hand still grasped the hose of his protective mask. His mouth was opened as if he were gasping for air. His eyes were wide open but unseeing, his skin ashen white. He was dead.

Bannon looked up at Uleski who continued to stare at Lorriet. Uleski was shaken. Bannon had never seen him so despondent. After a few moments, the XO finally realized his Team commander was staring at him. He looked back, showing no emotion as he spoke.

"The ITV crews were transferring TOW rounds when the first volley hit. One minute it was quiet, the next all hell broke loose. They didn't know which way to turn. Some just flopped on the ground. Others tried for the tracks. One of the men lying over there was just wounded. He screamed for help but no one went for him. He just kept screaming until the gas reached him. The chemical alarm went off before it was smashed. We all buttoned up and waited.

When there was no letup, I ordered Lorriet to back it up. He didn't answer. I started to scream, but he wouldn't answer. I cursed at him and called him every dirty name I could think of. The whole crew started to yell at him to get the tank out of here. The whole tank shook.

Smoke and dust and gas seeped in. Shrapnel kept pinging on the outside, and each round sounded as if it was closer than the last. We all yelled at Lorriet till we were hoarse. He didn't answer."

Uleski paused for a moment. He was starting to tremble. His eyes were filling with tears. He turned away for a moment in an effort to regain his composure. Once he had settled down, he continued, "After the shelling stopped, we found him like this. His hatch was pulled over but not locked down. He never got his mask on. All the time we yelled at him he was dead.

We didn't know, we just didn't know." These last words trailed off into silence.

The sound of the first sergeant's M-113 and the M-113 ambulance coming up broke the silence. Bannon reached out and grabbed Uleski's shoulder to make sure he was paying attention.

"All right, Bob, I want you to,go over to the first sergeant's track and contact the platoons on the company net. I haven't taken any SITREPs from them yet nor have I reported to battalion. Once you've consolidated the platoon reports, send up a Team SITREP to the S-3 and a LOGREP to the S-1 and S-4. Do you have that?"

For a moment Uleski looked at the Team commander as if he were speaking a foreign language. Then he blinked and acknowledged the instructions and slowly picked himself up.

Without another word, the XO headed for the first sergeant's track, turning and looking at Lorriet's body one last time.

As the medics, Folk, and the loader from 55 worked on the wounded, Bannon grabbed Sergeant Gwent, the gunner on 55, by the arm. "What's the condition of your tank?"

Gwent looked at him as if he were crazy. He repeated the question. Gwent slowly turned his head to look at his tank for a moment, then back at Bannon.

"I… I don't know. We were so busy with the wounded and all. I don't know."

"OK, OK. I understand. But the medics and the first sergeant can take care of them. I need you to check out that tank and find out if it can still fight. The Russians may come back and the Team needs every track it's got. Get your loader and do a thorough check, inside and out. When you're done, report back to me. Is that clear?" Gwent looked at Bannon, he looked at the tank, then he gave his commander a "yes, sir" and called his loader over. They both started to walk around the tank, checking the suspension and tracks in the gathering darkness.

As soon as the wounded were on board, the ambulance took off, making the best possible speed. Bannon walked over to the first sergeant and Folk as they watched the ambulance disappear in the darkness. When he closed up on them, Harrert asked about Uleski. Before answering, Bannon turned toward the M-113. He could hear the XO talking on the radio to battalion, sending up the SITREP, line by line. Uleski would be all right. Bannon then told Harrert to search the area for dead and to get a dog tag from each of the bodies, if he could find one. Folk was sent over to the ITV with the damaged launcher to see if it could be driven. As they turned to their tasks, Bannon walked back to 66.

Ortelli was walking around the tank, checking the suspension and tracks. Every now and then he would stop and look closer at an end connector or pull out a clump of mud to check a bolt. When he was satisfied that the bolt was tight, he would go to the next one. Kelp was perched in the commander's cupola, manning the machine gun and monitoring the radio.

His eyes followed the first sergeant as he went about his grim task. When Kelp saw Bannon approach, he turned his head back to the east, watching the dark hill across the valley.

Bannon hadn't realized how tired he was until he tried to climb onto 66. He fell backwards when his first boost failed to get him on the tank's fender. He rested for a moment, one foot on the ground, one foot in the step loop, and both hands on the hand grip.

With a hop and a pull, he managed to pull his body up. He stood on the fender pondering his next move for a moment. Decisions were becoming hard to make. He moved over to the turret and sat on the gun mantel with both feet on the main gun. He was dead tired, physically and mentally. So much had happened since the morning. His world and the world of every man in the Team had changed. They hadn't budged an inch from where they had been, but the scene before him now was foreign and strange. It was all too much for a tired brain to take in. The Team commander let his mind go blank as he sat there perched over the 105mm cannon of 66.

Folk startled him. For a moment Bannon lost his balance and almost toppled off the gun mantel. He had fallen asleep. The fearful day had finally ended, and it was dark. The short nap only accentuated his exhaustion. The ITV that had burned was still glowing red, with small fires consuming the last of its rubber. Through the trees he could see smashed Soviet vehicles still burning. Some were like the ITV, red and glowing. Others were still fully involved, yellow flames licking at dense black clouds of smoke rising in the still night air. The shattered and skewed trees and tree trunks added to the unnatural scene.

"Captain Bannon, the battalion commander wants to see you." First Sgt.

Harrert was standing on the ground in front of the tank looking up. They looked at each other while Bannon collected his thoughts. "Are you OK, Captain?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm OK. Give me a minute to get my shit together. Where is the Old Man?"

"He said he's back down where you last saw each other. He wasn't sure how to get in here and didn't want to throw a track finding a way in."

"Are you finished here, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir. The other ITV was still running. Newell is going to drive it down to the maintenance collection point. We'll turn it over to the infantry there. 55 is still operational. The only real damage was to the antennas. We replaced them with the spares we carry around and made a radio check. 55's good to go." "And bodies?"

"Folk and I moved them over out of the way and covered them with 55's tarp. The location has been reported to S-1. There's nothing more for us to do here. "

Harrert's last comment was more like fatherly advice than a statement of fact. He was right, of course. The hilltop had been a dumb place to put a position. It took three men killed to convince Bannon of that. He had no desire to invest any more here.

He stood on the front slope of the tank and stretched, then, squatting down closer to the first sergeant, he told him to pass word on to the XO to move 55 over to the 2nd Platoon position. Harrert was to follow the XO over. Once there, the first sergeant was to pick up the XO and the 2nd Platoon leader in the PC and bring them over to 66's position to the right of 3rd Platoon. A runner would go for the 3rd and Mech Platoon leaders. No doubt there would be some new information to pass out once he had finished with the battalion commander. There might even be a change of mission. Even if there weren't he still wanted to gather the leadership and assess the impact of the first day's battle on them and their platoons. The 66 pulled out of the old headquarters position, carefully picking its way through the debris until they reached the logging trail. Once on the trail it only took a couple of minutes to reach their former position. They did not pull all the way up to the berm this time but stayed back in the woods about ten meters. The other tanks had also pulled back just far enough so that they could still observe their sectors without being readily visible to the other people across the valley. The battalion commander was waiting as 66 pulled in. Bannon had been right on both counts. Colonel Reynolds was there to provide an update on the big picture and give him an order for a new mission.

Colonel Reynolds had just come from brigade. Rather than pull all the team commanders back to the battalion CP, he was making the rounds and passing the word out himself.

Besides, Bannon suspected that Reynolds wanted to gauge the impact of the first day's battle on his team commanders just as Bannon wanted to do with his platoon leaders.

The first item covered was a rundown on the battalion's current situation. Team Yankee had been the only team to engage the enemy within the battalion task force. For a moment, Bannon wondered why the colonel bothered to provide him that brilliant flash of the obvious.

Team Bravo had been badly mauled by artillery, losing five of its ten PCs, two of the four ITVs that had been with them, and one of the four 1st Platoon tanks Team Yankee had attached to them. The destroyed tank had taken a direct hit on the top of the turret. The armor on a tank can't be thick everywhere and the top is about as thin as it gets. None of 12's crew survived. Of the remaining three tanks, one had lost a road wheel and hub but had been recovered and would be back up by midnight. Because of the losses, the trauma of being under artillery for so long, and the loss of its commander, Team Bravo had been pulled out of the lane. D company, the battalion reserve, had moved up to replace Bravo, to give them a chance to regroup.

C company, to the left of Team Yankee, had had an easy day. They hadn't seen a Russian all day and had not received any artillery fire. The battalion commander told Bannon that the C company commander and his men were chomping at the bit, waiting for a chance to have a whack at the Reds. In a dry and even voice Bannon told the battalion commander that if the gentlemen in C company were so fired up for action, they were welcome to Team Yankee's position, including the bodies. The cold, cutting remark caught Reynolds off guard.

He stared at Bannon for a moment, then let the matter drop, moving on to the battalion's new mission.

In the colonel's PC, Bannon received his new orders. On the wall of the PC was a map showing the brigade's sector.

The battalion task force was on the brigade's left flank. First Brigade, to the north, had received the main Soviet attack and had lost considerable ground. The attack against the battalion had been a supporting attack. Bannon thought about that for a moment. The Team's fight had been a sideshow, unimportant in the big picture. As that thought rattled around in his mind, he felt like screaming. Here the Team had put its collective ass on the line, fought a superior foe twice, and had three men killed and five wounded in an unimportant sideshow. His ego and pride could not accept that. What was he going to tell Lorriet's mother when he wrote her? "Dear Mrs. Lorriet, your son was killed in a nameless, insignificant sideshow. Better luck next time." He began to feel angry.

Slowly he became aware that the battalion commander and the S-3 were looking at him.

"May I proceed?" the battalion commander's curt question didn't require a reply. The 1 st Brigade would be hard pressed to hold another attack. Intelligence indicated that the Soviet forces in front of 1st Brigade had lost heavily and were no longer able to attack. A second echelon division, the 28th Guards Tank Division, was moving up and was expected to be in position to attack not later than dawn tomorrow. The 28th Guards had been under attack by the Air Force most of the day but could not be stopped. Division had given brigade the mission to attack into the flank of the 28th Guards Division as soon as they were fully committed in the attack.

The Mech Battalion was given the mission of pulling out of the line on order, moving north, and spearheading this attack. The battalion commander was now giving Team Yankee, his tank-heavy team, the mission of spearheading the battalion's effort.

Bannon's mind again wandered off the matter at hand. Somewhere in the division's rear, several hours ago, while Team Yankee was still knee-deep in Russians, the division's commanding general had told his colonels as they surveyed the map: "Attack there." While the first sergeant and Sergeant Folk had been dragging the bodies of Team Yankee's dead to an out-of-the-way spot, the brigade commander had told the battalion commander: "Attack there." Now the executor of the plan, the lead element commander, the lowest ranking person in the U.S.

Army to carry the coveted title of Commander, had his marching orders. As he received the detailed instructions from the S-3 as to routes, objectives, fire support, and coordination instructions, they were joined by the Team's fire-support officer or FIST Team Chief, a 2nd Lt. Rodney Unger. He had finally made it back. He was already familiar with the concept of the operation so there was no need to go over everything. When the S-3 finished, he asked if there were any questions or anything that the Team needed. Bannon's request that the Team be pulled out of the line now to an assembly area for a rest was denied. According to the battalion commander, Team Bravo needed it more than Yankee did. As Team Bravo was going to be in reserve, Bannon requested that the 1st Tank Platoon be returned. That request was also denied. He then requested that an ITV section be attached to the Team to make good their losses. That request too was denied as the other companies without tanks needed some antitank fire power. Seeing that he wasn't going to get anything from battalion but a pat on the back and a pep talk, he stopped asking, and the meeting was over. The battalion commander and the S-3 left Team Yankee to go down to C company to calm them down before they chewed through their bit.

Uleski had the platoon leaders and the first sergeant assembled in the PC when the battalion commander left. They were exchanging information and observations as Bannon climbed into the track. Before he discussed the new mission, he had each platoon leader update him on the status of his platoon and the condition of the men and equipment. They were all tired but confident. The first day's success had removed many of the fears and doubts that they had had in themselves and in their men. The Team had met the Russians, laser range finder to laser range finder, and fond that they were not ten feet tall and could be beaten. Even Uleski was more himself. Bannon began to feel better. The negative thoughts that had kept clouding his mind in the battalion commander's track were fading. The quiet, calm confidence of Team Yankee's leadership gave its commander's flagging morale a needed boost.

According to the book, a.leader is supposed to use one-third of the time he has available from when he receives a mission to when he executes it for the preparation of his order.

That formula is a good guide, but it seldom works out in practice. Rather than keep the platoon leaders and FIST chief waiting while he came up with his plan, Bannon gave them what information he could. As the platoon leaders copied the graphics of the operation from the commander's map to theirs, Bannon considered his plan of action and quickly wrote some notes for his initial briefing. The briefing included the general situation, the enemy situation, the Team's mission, routes of movement, objectives, and a simple scheme of maneuver. The Team may have done well in its first fight, but it had been an easy one, conducted from stationary positions using a plan that had been developed for months. The new mission was an attack, a short notice one at that. He didn't want to do anything fancy or complicated. Simplicity and flexibility were what he wanted.

The Team would use standard battle drill and rely on their SOP. Order of march out of the position would be the 2nd Platoon with 55 in the lead, followed by 66, the FIST track, 3rd Platoon, and the Mech Platoon. Bannon explained that they would travel with either the two tank platoons up and abreast and the Mech trailing or in column with 3rd Platoon overwatching the advance of 2nd. This scheme put the majority of the Team's combat power forward and left some flexibility to change formations rapidly with minimum reshuffling.

Detailed instructions, the artillery fire support plans, and any new information would be provided prior to the move.

After his briefing, Bannon made a quick check with the platoon leaders to answer any questions concerning the new mission. He reminded them to ensure that their platoons stayed alert and on the radio. He also stressed the need to make sure they rotated with their crews when it came to sleeping. He wanted wide awake, alert leaders when the Team went into the attack. With the platoon leaders dismissed, he went over the needs of the Team and the support plan for the attack with Uleski and Harrert.

The news the first sergeant had was not good. The heavy fighting to the north had consumed huge amounts of ammunition, in particular tank main gun ammo. Because the corps ammo resupply point was still being set up, division ordered the brigades to send whatever tank ammunition they had to the 1 st Brigade. All the rest of Team Yankee's basic load of ammunition that was supposed to be in the battalion trains area was gone, headed north in the Team's trucks to someone else's tanks. Bannon was too tired to work himself into a rage. The battalion commander and the S-3 had been there for over thirty minutes and had neglected to inform him of this "minor" point. He began to wonder whose side the battalion commander was on. It almost seemed as if this was some kind of test to see how far Team Yankee could go on its own.

The good news was that the Team would still get a hot meal in the morning, provided there was no interference from the Russians. New protective mask filters would be passed out at that time. The first sergeant had been working on securing them since he heard the news of the chemical attack. He would have enough replacements for the entire Team. An additional day's worth of MREs would also be passed out to add to the two days' supply already on the Team's tracks. The Team was in good shape as far as fuel was concerned, but Bannon wanted to be sure.

Harrert was to arrange for a top off right after breakfast, provided battalion hadn't taken the fuel too. The three of them exchanged a few sharp and humorous remarks on that subject and, with a chuckle, broke up the meeting. The first sergeant returned Uleski and McAlister to the 2nd Platoon's positions before heading back to the trains area. Bannon headed back for the FIST track to finish the Team's plan.

Second Lt. Rodney Unger was a good FIST Team chief. He still had a lot to learn about tanks and infantry. But he knew about artillery and how to get it. When he was first assigned to the Team as the FIST nine months before, he still had a lot of funny ideas about what his role was and how he wanted to do business. It didn't take long to convince him that a lot of what he had been taught at Fort Sill was best left there. Once that was accomplished, Bannon taught him all the "bad" habits FIST chiefs use in the field. While Unger worked up his initial fire plan based on what he had been given in the first sergeant's track, Bannon started to go over the scheme of maneuver in more detail.

First he considered how the Soviets might be deployed to defend their flank. All likely locations and fields of fire were marked in red. Satisfied that this "Russian" plan of defense was plausible, Bannon began to work on the details of how the Team was going to seize its assigned objective quickly and with minimum losses. This time, he methodically went over the actions the Team had to execute in order for it to get from where it was to its objective. Whenever Bannon came across a Soviet field of fire he had plotted, he determined the best way to deal with it. He wanted to bypass wherever possible. When it wasn't possible, he had to plan the best way to destroy the enemy without destroying the Team. This process continued until he had completed the entire route of advance. Once Bannon finished, Unger superimposed his supporting fire plan over the scheme of maneuver. When there was a deficiency or Bannon required a special method of engagement from the artillery, he explained what he wanted, and Unger made the changes. As most maneuver commanders are prone to do, he asked for an enormous amount of artillery-delivered smoke. If he could have, he would have moved the Team through one huge smoke screen from where they were all the way to the objective. If every company and team commander were given all the smoke he asked for, all of Germany would have been perpetually shrouded in a dense smoke screen. But reality and the constraints of the artillery basic load reduced his demands. Satisfied with the soundness of the plan, he climbed out of the FIST track and returned to 66 while Unger rumbled off into the night to pass his plan on to the battalion FSE. The high-pitched whine of the FIST's modified M-113 faded into the night and was replaced by a stillness punctured at random intervals by distant artillery fire. The moon was out and full. Its pale gray light provided near-perfect visibility of the hill across the valley. Many of the smashed Soviet vehicles still glowed bright red. Fires in the village continued but had died down. Everything else was quiet and peaceful. The casual observer would have been hard pressed to find any sign of life in the valley. It was amazing how quiet hundreds of men, intent on killing each other, could be.

Folk was manning the fifty when Bannon reached 66. Ortelli was asleep in the driver's compartment, and Kelp was lying out asleep on top of the turret. The image of the severed arm and wounded men at 55 flashed through Bannon's mind. Looking at Kelp lying there, exposed to artillery fire and anything else the Soviets might throw at them, he regretted not requiring the tank crews to dig foxholes. He would have to see that that was corrected. At least Kelp had his protective mask on. If nothing else, he was protected from a surprise chemical attack.

He relieved Folk and told him to get a few hours sleep. They would then switch off until stand-to. If the lull continued after stand-to, he would issue his complete order during a working breakfast, then get some more sleep. It was a good plan and he prayed like hell he could implement it. For the next two hours Bannon stood there, alternately fighting sleep and boredom. He had to change his position every five minutes in order to stay awake and semi-alert. Every hour on the hour 66 and the rest of the tracks would crank up their engines to recharge their batteries. They didn't all come up together but it was close enough. If every vehicle ran its engine on its own, the Soviets would be able to pinpoint every track by the sound of the engines. By running them together, that became more difficult. Once finished, Ortelli would immediately crash back into a deep sleep. Bannon began to wonder what was happening on the other side of the hill. Even with the muffled rumble of artillery in the distance and the smoldering remains of combat vehicles in the valley before him, it was difficult to think that they were at war. From the Baltic Sea to the Austrian border almost three million men were facing each other, preparing to hack away at the enemy on the other side of the valley, or across the river, or in the next village.

He tried to imagine what the young Russian company commanders were doing in the 28th Guards Tank Division. No doubt they were going over in their minds how they would seize their objectives, trying to guess where their enemy would be and how they would deal with the U.S. forces once they were encountered. He knew enough about Soviet tactics to appreciate that their company commanders had few decisions to make. The regiment made most of the decisions. The battalions and companies simply carried out the orders using fixed formations and battle drill. That made it a lot easier on the Russian company commander. But, if the end results were attacks such as the two Team Yankee had smashed yesterday, Bannon wanted no part of a system like that. Even if he didn't get all the support he wanted, at least he had some control in deciding how to crack the nuts Team Yankee had been given. His only worry now was whether he had guessed right and come up with the best possible plan.

At about 0130 he woke Folk. The gunner needed a few minutes to get himself together.

Bannon considered waking Kelp and putting him out as an OP, but that would have left him out there alone and it was a cardinal sin to place one-man outposts. The 3rd Platoon OP to the left and the Mech Platoon OP to the right covered 66. Each tank was supposed to have half of its crew up and alert. But he saw no useful purpose in waking Kelp. In a moment of weakness, he let him sleep.

Once Folk was ready, they switched places. Rather than Folk rolling up his sleeping bag and Bannon rolling out another, they hot bunked with Bannon using Folk's sleeping bag tonight. It was a normal practice in a tactical environment. Besides, he was ready to crash and didn't feel like screwing around with gear.

With pistol at arm's reach, protective mask on, and the sleeping bag pulled over but not zipped, he could finally let his mind go. The enormousness of the events of the day quietly slipped away. But in their place, personal concerns crept in, concerns and thoughts that had been pushed aside by the needs of Team Yankee. Now, with Team Yankee's needs taken care of for the moment, Bannon's concern about the safety and welfare of his wife and three children could no longer be denied. Where was his family? Had they made it out? Were the air fields still open? Was someone protecting them and caring for them? When would he find out about them? Only sleep quieted the Team commander's troubled mind.