Team Yankee

CHAPTER SIX On the Razor's Edge

"Lay off the accelerator, Ortelli. We aren't going anywhere that way. You may be making it worse."

Kelp and Folk turned and stared at Bannon wide-eyed and fearful. Ortelli's face, no doubt, was no different. They were waiting for their commander's next brilliant idea. "Why me?"

Bannon thought. "Why in the hell me?" He felt lost. He had managed to lose half the Team and get 66 stuck in an artillery barrage in the middle of a battle. Now his crew was looking at him expecting him to come up magically with the right answer. Maybe there was no right answer this time. Then again, maybe there was. "Right. Listen up. I'm going to go out and see how bad off we are. Kelp, cover me with your machine gun if you can. Sergeant Folk, be ready to give me a hand if I need you. Clear?"

They both nodded their heads. Bannon turned and opened the TC's hatch all the way and stuck his head out to check the situation. The 66 was just on the edge of the artillery-beaten zone. Another twenty to thirty meters and they would have been in the clear. So much for luck.

He ducked down, turned to Kelp, and asked if he were ready. Kelp's eyes were wide open and his face drawn in fear. But he was standing ready to leap into position when Bannon gave the word. He simply nodded yes. "Alright, let's go." With that, Bannon jumped out of the TC's hatch, rolled down the side of the turret, and dropped to the ground. The drop was more than he had anticipated. He landed on his side with a thud, knocking his wind out.

As he lay there struggling to get his breath back, he looked around. The neat German forest was now ripped and pockmarked by the artillery fire. Branches and trees were thrown askew and broken. Artillery rounds continued to impact around 66. Every now and then there would be a zing or a ping as a shell fragment from a near miss flew through the air or hit the tank. Bannon quickly became motivated to get on with his inspection. The track he was lying next to was still on all the road wheels and the drive sprocket. They hadn't thrown a track.

Thank God for small miracles. He crawled along the track as close as he could for safety.

He wanted to look between the road wheels. The other track was also on. When he reached the rear of the tank, he found mounds of loose dirt the tracks had been building up to their rear. Both tracks had obviously been spinning free. As he crawled around to the rear of the tank and looked under the hull, he could see the problem. The tank was hung up on a shattered tree that was still partially connected to its stump. As 66 had maneuvered through the forest, it had straddled the shattered tree and driven itself up onto the stump. To make matters worse, there was a shell crater to the right of the tank that the right track had dropped into just as 66 had bellied out on the stump.

The solution to their problem was not going to be simple. If there was another tank around, it would have been easy to hook tow cables to the two tanks and pull 66 off. But all the remaining tanks had run off to Objective LINK. They could sit and wait. Eventually, if the rest of the battalion came along, a tank in Team Bravo or an M-88 recovery vehicle could pull 66 off. But it seemed just as likely that the Russians would show up. Besides, Bannon was the team commander. He had to get back with the Team and regain control, even though the Team was now nothing more than a reinforced platoon. Also, simply sitting there and waiting to see what happened next was not his style. A solution had to be found. Throwing dirt under the tracks would do no good. The tracks would simply pile it up onto the mounds of dirt they were already building. It was too late to back out. Ortelli had hit the tree at a charge and driven 66 up onto it. Something substantial had to be shoved under the right track so that it could rise up and let the hull clear the stump. But to do that would have required all of them to haul tree trunks and other rubble over to 66. The artillery would surely get some of them. Bannon tried hard to remember what he had been taught at Fort Knox during the Basic Course in the vehicle recovery class. Why in the hell didn't I pay attention to what was going on in that class instead of kicking dirt clods and bullshitting at the rear of the group, he thought. The instructors had always said,

"Someday this may save your life." Today was that day, but he couldn't remember the technique. There was something they could do but he wasn't sure if he remembered it all.

What the hell, maybe it would come back as he went along. Something had to be done fast.

He climbed back up on the tank, staying as low and as near to the turret as possible. "Sergeant Folk, get out here now." As Folk was climbing out, Bannon pulled a hammer from a sponson box and threw it to the ground on the right side of the tank. Bannon then had Folk help get the tow cables off. The two men crouched down as they worked to free one tow cable, throw it to the ground near the hammer, then free the other cable and throw it down on the other side.

They then leaped off the right side and took cover. While they lay down on the ground next to the track, Bannon explained what they were going to do. The plan was to hook the tow cables together in front of the tank. They would then wrap the cables around the two tracks at the front of the tank so that the tow cables stretched from one track to the other. When Ortelli put 66 in forward gear, the tracks would move the cables back along the ground. In the process, the cables would catch on the stump. Hopefully, as the tracks continued to try to pull the cables back, they would stay caught on the stump and pull 66 forward and off the stump and tree. The plan was worth a shot.

Bannon took the hammer and used it to get the tow hooks off the front and back of 66 while Folk dragged the two cables to the front, crawling on his hands and knees and staying as close to the tank as he could. They used one of the tow hooks to connect the cables together. Then they wrapped one end of the cables around the track on the left side and used a second tow hook to connect the loop formed around the track, doing the same on the right side. Bannon put the fourth hook and hammer to the side in case a hook broke and a second try was needed. Folk got back in 66.

From the outside, Bannon signaled to Folk, who had Ortelli put the tank in low gear and slowly apply power. The cables were dragged under and caught on the stump as expected.

As they caught, Ortelli applied more power. The slack in the cables was taken out, and they became taut. For a moment the tracks stopped and the engine began to strain. Bannon hoped the hooks could stand the pressure and not snap. If the scheme worked, 66 would be free. Ortelli continued to apply power slowly. The tank began to inch forward, moaning and screeching as the hull scraped across the stump. The cables held. The 66 continued to move and rise up over the stump. Once the tank's center of gravity was past the stump, the front of 66 flopped down. The tracks bit into the ground, and 66 began to roll forward on its own. Bannon signaled to Folk to have Ortelli stop. He crawled to the rear, disconnected the cables from around the tracks, then climbed back on. They were going to leave the hooks and cables behind. With luck, someone could get them later. There were far more important things to do, including getting out from under the Soviet artillery.

As Bannon was climbing back into the commander's cupola, he noticed for the first time that 66 had lost its antennas. Both were sheared off at the base. That explained why the other four tanks had not stopped when he had called them. The last order the Team had heard from him was to keep moving and not stop. Apparently, they had thought that he wanted them to keep going all the way to Hill 214. When they couldn't contact him, they simply carried on with the last order they had received. As 66 began to roll off the hill that had been Objective LOG, Bannon wondered how much that misunderstanding had cost the Team. Clausewitz called it the friction of war. Some called it Murphy's law. Right now, the thought of losing what was left of the Team to a simple misunderstanding was devastating: Sixteen men and four tanks lost because a damned antenna was broken.

Once in the open and out from under the Soviet artillery fire, Bannon had Ortelli move as fast as they could go. He had to find out if there were any tanks in the Team still on Hill 214. If there were, he would be able to contact battalion and find out what everyone else was doing and what the colonel wanted the Team to do. Not that there was much left to do anything with. If battalion couldn't be contacted, then the ball was back in his court. He had to decide what to do with the surviving tanks. Bannon was fast becoming tired of making these decisions. They were too expensive in terms of men and equipment. He wondered what he would lose first, the Team or his nerve.

Movement to Bannon's right diverted his attention. Three Soviet T-62 tanks were moving north on an intersecting course with 66. They must have come out of Lemm and were headed to hit the tanks on Hill 214 in the rear. Bannon grabbed the TC's override and jerked it over as far as he could, swinging the turret toward the threat. "GUNNER-SABOT-3 TANKS!"

Kelp dropped down and yelled, "HEAT LOADEDUP!"

The last round Kelp had put in the chamber had been a HEAT round. Not as good as a SABOT round when fighting a tank, but it would do. There was no time to switch ammunition.

"IDENTIFIED!" The gunner had acquired the targets and was ready to take over. Bannon let the override go. At the same instant, the lead T-62 began to traverse its turret toward 66.

"FIRE HEAT-LOAD SABOT!" At least the next round would be right.

"ON THE WAAAY!" Folk fired.

As if it was all one action, the main gun recoiled, and the tank shuddered and bucked as if hit on its side by a massive hammer. The sound of the gun firing was replaced by a high-pitched scream of agony over the intercom and the hiss of the halon gas fire extinguishers discharging. The turret was instantaneously filled with the halon gas. The 66 jerked to the right and staggered to a stop; it had been hit.

"What happened? Why are we stopping?" Kelp was panicked and about to go out through the loader's hatch. Bannon could feel Folk grab at his leg to get by him and out. Ortelli was screaming. "Shut up, Kelp. Everyone stay where you are. Crew report. "

"We're on fire! Get out!" Folk kept trying to get past.

"GET BACK IN YOUR SEAT AND PREPARE TO ENGAGE." To make his point, Bannon took his free foot and blocked Folk's route out. For the briefest of moments Folk stared at him, then got back into position. "KELP. IS THE GUN UP?" He looked at Bannon dumbfounded. "LOADER-LOAD SABOT-NOW!" Kelp turned and grabbed the next round.

The screaming on the intercom had been replaced by a continuous moaning from Ortelli. He had been hit. Bannon had no idea how badly, nor could he find out at that moment. He popped his head back out to find out what the Russians were doing.

There was thick black smoke coming from the engine compartment and rolling over the tank. The fire extinguishers in the engine compartment had failed to put out the fire. Across the open field one of the T-62s was burning and shuddering from secondary explosions. The other two had just begun to move out again for Hill 214. Their gun tubes were pointed at 66.

Apparently they thought 66 was finished.

"Sergeant Folk, can you see the other two tanks?"

"Yeah, I got them. They're at the edge of my sight."

"Move your turret slowly and lay on. We don't want to let on that we're still functional. When you're on, fire. I'll hit the smoke grenades. That should cover us from return fire. Kelp, you up?"

Across the turret from Bannon, Kelp was standing against the turret wall. There was a look of terror on his face, but the gun was loaded and armed. "Kelp, give me an up." "SABOT UP."

"Anytime you're ready, gunner." Through his extension Bannon watched the T-62s. The range readout digits on the bottom of the sight changed. Folk had ranged and gotten a good range return. 950 meters. God, they were close. The ready-to-fire indicator was also on. He put his finger on the smoke grenade launcher, ready to fire.

"ON THE WAAAY!"

As the gun fired, Bannon hit the grenades, covering 66 with a curtain of white smoke.

"SWITCH TO THERMAL!"

As Folk slid the sight shutter into place, the view of the smoke screen was shut out. But instead of the green thermal image, the sight remained black. "The thermal is out!"

"Switch back to the day channel and look sharp. They're going to make sure we're dead this time so we have to get the f up?"

"UP."

"STAND BY TO ENGAGE."

The fire in the engine compartment was growing. The black smoke mixed with the white smoke from the grenades. Ortelli's moaning was softer and weaker now. Within the turret there was the smell of cordite from the spent shell casing, diesel from a ruptured fuel cell, the acrid smell coming from the engine fire, and the odor of sweat from the crew as they waited for the T-62s to reappear.

"IDENTIFIED!" A T-62 was charging down on 66, gun aimed dead on them.

"FIRE!"

"ON THE WAY!"

Both tanks fired at the same time and both hit. The difference was that the Soviet round didn't penetrate the turret of 66. The 66's found its mark and with telling effect. There was the flash of impact followed in rapid succession by secondary explosions. The first series ripped off the turret of the T-62, flinging the fifteen tons of steel high in the air as if it was cardboard. The turret slammed into the ground and flopped over upside down. A quick scan of the area revealed that the other T-62 that 66 had engaged was smoking.

Though it was not burning as the other two were, the body of the tank commander was draped over the side of the turret. Even at that range, the spatter of red on the Russian's black uniform was visible. That and the high angle of the gun tube told Bannon that it was dead. With no other threat in sight and the fire in the engine compartment becoming larger, it was time to abandon 66.

Ortelli had stopped moaning. Folk slowly traversed the turret until he reached the driver's compartment. Ortelli's crumpled form lay limp against the side. There was diesel and blood spattered all over him, his seat, and the compartment. While Bannon held him forward, Kelp lowered the seat back. They eased his body back onto the turret floor. The right side of his face had been torn open and burned. The chest of his chemical protective suit was shredded and soaked with blood and diesel. His right sleeve ended just below the elbow in a bloody tatter. Ortelli was dead.

Bannon's first thought was to leave the body and abandon the tank. But he felt they owed Ortelli better than that. He had been a good soldier and a loyal crewman. To just leave the body there and give it to the fire that would soon engulf 66 was unfeeling. If they survived, Bannon, at least, wanted to be able to tell his family that they had done all they could for him, even in the end. "Let's get him out of here."

Kelp and Bannon dragged Ortelli's body out of the driver's compartment and propped it up.

Folk, kneeling on the turret roof, reached down and took Ortelli under the arms and pulled him out as the other two pushed from below. Bannon reminded Kelp to take his submachine gun and the ammo pouch before he exited. Bannon stayed behind to prepare 66 for destruction. Though the engine compartment fire would probably finish off 66, he wanted to make sure that his tank was not going to be displayed in Red Square as a trophy. Bannon opened the ammo ready door and locked it open. He pulled one round out and put it halfway in the main gun's chamber, then placed several more rounds on the turret floor. He turned the radio frequency knobs off of the Team's frequency. As he really didn't know by whom they would be picked up, he took his CEOI that contained all the radio frequencies and call signs for the brigade and tore the pages out, spreading them around the turret. Satisfied that 66 was ready, he put two frag grenades and one thermite grenade in his pocket and climbed out. Once outside, Bannon threw his CVC down into the turret, put on his web gear, helmet, and binoculars and grabbed his map case. He ordered Folk and Kelp to head for the woods to their right. Once they were on the way, he took the thermite grenade, pulled the pin and dropped it in the loader's hatch among the shells on the floor. He leaped down on the right side of the tank and crouched low, waiting for the first explosion to make sure 66 would burn.

He landed next to Ortelli. While Bannon had been inside, Folk and Kelp had put Ortelli into a sleeping bag and laid him a few feet away from the tank. There was a tag with his name and social security number attached to the zipper. They had placed his head so that the damaged side of his face was not exposed. Except for the tag, he looked as if he were asleep. Folk and Kelp had felt the same way Bannon had about their friend. Just as they had cared and looked out for each other in life, they had done so in death. When the first round went off, Bannon took off to catch up with the rest of the crew. Ortelli and 66 were gone. It was time to carry on.

Folk and Kelp were both lying in the tree line watching 66 burn by the time Bannon caught up. He plopped down next to them and began to watch, too. The tank was fully involved now, burning from front to rear and quivering as rounds cooked off and detonated. Off to the left the T-62s also were burning. He studied the four burning tanks. For the past three days he had thought of the Soviet tanks as nothing more than objects, machines to be smashed, destroyed, or "serviced" as the Army had once referred to the act of engaging targets. But in "servicing" those "things," they had killed sixteen men and had lost one of their own. The whole scene began to seem unreal. Bannon felt detached from the horrors and the dangers that surrounded them. It was all like a bad dream. Not real. His head began to spin, and he became nauseated. He turned away and lay on his back, closing his eyes and letting his mind go blank. The nervous stress and the emotional strain, as well as the physical exhaustion, were catching up to him. He was thirsty but too tired to do anything about it. He needed a few minutes alone to get himself together. The sounds of battle to the north from Hill 214 drifted down to their refuge. The boom of tanks firing their main guns rolled over them. Bannon listened for several minutes without thinking or moving. To the south the sounds of small-arms fire could be heard from Objective LOG. The battle there was still going on. The familiar pop pop of the Ml6 firing was answered by rifle reports that were not familiar to his ears. Probably Soviet AKs. It was the high-pitched whine of two personnel carriers approaching that finally got him to move.

He rolled over onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows. Coming up along the same route 66 had taken were two PCs. As they approached 66 from behind, they slowed down, passing it, one on each side, checking out the area. They turned toward the wood line and headed for Bannon. He knew they hadn't seen him or his crew. They were going to get out of the open and hug the tree line for cover. At least 66's crew would be able to ride up to Hill 214.

Without thinking, Bannon began to stand up to wave down the PCs. Just as he was about to straighten up, the closest PC cut loose with a burst from its caliber .50 machine gun. The wild burst ripped through the trees above him, scattering splinters and pieces of bark all over. He dropped down like a ton of bricks. Folk let out a stream of obscenities while Kelp covered his head and curled up, "JESUS CHRIST! THOSE FUCKERS ARE TRYING TO KILL US!" Still on his stomach and with his face buried in the ground, Bannon raised his right arm and waved frantically. The shooting stopped. He looked up to see both tracks side by side headed for him, guns aimed and ready. He continued to wave as he slowly rose, ready to go down again if they fired. This time, they didn't. Once the PC commanders were satisfied that they were not facing Russians, they picked up speed and continued toward the tree line. Their guns, however, stayed aimed at Bannon. No one was taking any chances.

"Damn, sir, we thought you were dead!" It was Polgar, the platoon sergeant of the Mech Platoon. The two PCs pulled into the tree line on either side of them, turned around to face out, and stopped.

"Thanks to you we almost were. Is this all that's left of your platoon?" "No, sir. There are a few men back on LOG with the L. T. but they're mostly wounded, including the L. T. I got most of the 2nd and the 3rd Squads with me. The 1st Squad bought it on that first volley back at the stream. I see you got some before you lost your tank."

"Yeah. We did. Have you been in radio contact with anyone else in the Team?"

"Yes, sir. The XO. He's up on Hill 214 with the rest of the Team. That's where we're headed now."

Bannon felt as if someone had just removed a stone from the top of his heart. There still was a Team Yankee! Right now it didn't matter that it had lost so much. It didn't matter that they were in the wrong place. All that mattered was that there was at least something left. He hadn't pissed away the whole Team.

The crew of 66 mounted the PCs. Bannon boarded Polgar's track and stood up in the troop hatch behind the TC as they rolled out and headed for Hill 214. The PCs continued to hug the tree line until they were just across from the woods of Hill 214. Then the PCs dashed across the open area into the eastern side of the trees on Hill 214. After wandering cautiously through the forest, they came up to the four remaining tanks of the Team.

The four tanks were deployed along the tree line overlooking Arnsdorf, just as they should have been deployed to support the attack of D company. As the PCs came to a halt about fifty meters to the rear of the tanks, Bannon saw Uleski dismount one of the tanks in the center. Even at that

Ondistance, he could see that Uleski was injured. Polgar and Bannon dismounted and met him halfway.

The XO had his right arm in a sling and splint. He saluted with his left hand and asked if anyone else was coming. Bannon replied that he had had no contact with battalion since moving out of the assembly area and was hoping Uleski had some news. Uleski shook his head and informed him that the battalion frequency was being jammed, making contact impossible. He had been trying to work through the jamming but had gotten nothing. Bannon and Uleski turned to Polgar and asked if he had made any contact with battalion before coming up to Hill 214. His reply was also negative. So, to the best of their knowledge, battalion had no idea where the Team was and what it was doing.

For that matter, Bannon didn't know for sure what was going on either. His next priority was an update on what had happened after the tanks had left Objective LOG, and what the enemy situation was. The three of them sat down in a circle, though Uleski had some difficulty doing so because of his arm. He then described how the four tanks had continued onto Hill 214 as Bannon had ordered. Once they had cleared the woods and the artillery fire on LOG, Uleski noticed 66 was gone. When attempts to contact 66 failed, Uleski closed up the remaining tanks, contacted the Mech Platoon, ordered them to follow up when they could, and pushed on.

The four tanks under the XO reached Hill 214 without further contact and began to sweep through the Objective. As the tanks crested the hill, they ran right into the middle of a Soviet artillery battery of towed guns preparing to move. The Soviet gunners were totally surprised.

Since the tanks were still rolling and less than two hundred meters away, Uleski charged through the battery's position, destroying the guns and their prime movers as well as cutting down those Soviet gunners that were not quick enough to get away. Apparently, not many of the Soviets were able to make good their escape. After having watched so many of the vehicles in Team Yankee get hit, the tankers went on a killing frenzy, literally running down and over fleeing Russians. Everyone fired whatever weapon he could as they hunted the Soviet gunners down, sometimes one at a time.

Uleski related how he had watched four Russians run into the nearest house in Arnsdorf with a tank hot on their heels. The last man in closed the door as if that would keep the tank out.

The pursuing tank drove up to the house, rammed its main gun through the door, and fired a HEAT round. This started a fire, and the tank backed up a few meters and waited. When two Russians came out, the tank cut them down. As he told this story, Bob Uleskifs face was without emotion. His eyes were set in a steady gaze that went through Bannon as though he were reviewing the scenes he was describing in his mind's eye. His voice betrayed no regret or disgust. Three days of war had done much to harden this man. As Bannon watched Uleskifs face and listened to his story, he wondered how much, if at all, he had done to stop the killing spree.

Uleski paused for a moment after finishing his report on the action against the battery and then continued. After the tanks were finished, they withdrew up the hill and occupied the positions they were currently in. There were several minor wounds that had required tending, of which his was the most serious. Ammo had been counted and was being redistributed.

Main gun rounds were the most critical problem. Each of the four tanks now had less than ten rounds of SABOT and six rounds of HEAT on board. If and when the Soviets got serious about counterattacking, the Team would quickly run out.

The personnel side was better, but not much. The dead and missing included Unger and his entire FIST team, Sergeant Pierson and the 34 tank, as well as Lieutenant Harding, wounded on LOG. That left the XO with the 55 tank, Garger with 31, Sergeant First Class Hebrock with 24 and Staff Sergeant Rhoads with 22. The tanks had nineteen men, including the crew of 66. Polgar had big 23 track with Staff Sergeant Flurer and 2nd Squad and the 24 track with Staff Sergeant Jefferson and the 3rd Squad. Each infantry squad had the driver, track commander, and six men, giving the Mech Platoon seventeen men. Team Yankee was now down to four tanks, two PCs, two Dragons, and thirty-five men.

The enemy had not yet reacted to the loss of Hill 214. After destroying the artillery battery, the tanks had had no contact with the Russians. It was, however, only a matter of time. The presence of Team Yankee on Hill 214 or in the area had to be known. Why else would the three tanks that 66 had encountered have been pulled out from the front and sent back to the rear in the middle of a battle? Bannon doubted that the Soviets knew how much, or how little, was on 214. His guess was that they would send in a small element first to locate the Team, discover their size and composition, and pin them. Once they had done that, the Soviets would strike and strike hard. It was the way they did business.

While Uleski and Polgar gathered up the Team leadership, all the track commanders this time, Bannon pondered their options. They could withdraw. As there had been no contact with battalion since the attack had begun and there was little prospect of achieving contact now, withdrawal would be acceptable. Team Yankee was obviously incapable of performing a Team-sized mission because of its losses. Ammunition was becoming critically low and Bannon had no idea when or even if battalion would link up. Although Polgar had informed him that LOG had been cleared, it could have been reoccupied by the Soviets. Only Harding and a few wounded had been left to hold that hill while they waited for Team Bravo to move up. That had not yet occurred when Polgar had left. To stand on Hill 214 and attempt to continue, knowing full well that the Soviets would be back, made no sense. But neither did a simple withdrawal. While there was almost no hope of holding Hill 214 against a powerful counterattack with the Team's current strength, there was no guarantee that the Russians would, or could, counterattack in strength. There was the possibility that they were in just as bad shape as the Team and could not counterattack. They might have pushed everyone forward and left no one to reinforce the flanks. The fact that the three T-62 tanks had to be pulled off the front to reinforce the rear hinted at this. To withdraw and learn later that there had been no threat would ensure that the deaths of the men in Team Yankee had been in vain. There was also the chance that the rest of the battalion would finally make it up and continue with the mission. It would be humiliating to be in the process of withdrawing against an imagined foe and run head-on into the rest of the battalion as it advanced up to Hill 214. Not that pride and humiliation were of prime concern to Bannon right now. It was just that such an occurrence was as likely, given his lack of information, as anything else. Besides, the order to seize Hill 214 was still in effect. It was decided, then. Team Yankee had taken this hill and was going to keep it until ordered elsewhere or thrown off. Bannon began to appreciate the old philosophy that once soldiers had paid for a piece of ground with the blood of their comrades, the value of that land became greater and transcended what cold logic would otherwise calculate. For Team Yankee, this ground was important. They would hold.

Now that it was decided, he had to determine how to hold Hill 214. With four tanks and two PCs, they could hold four to five hundred meters of front. But the Team was on its own and had to worry about its flanks and rear, not just the front. The Soviets might try a frontal attack once, but they would not do it twice. Besides, they might try holding the Team's attention to the front while maneuvering infantry through the woods to hit them in the rear. Flank and rear security were therefore critical.

Lt. Col. Yuri Potecknov prepared to execute his new mission in the exact, scientific manner that he had been taught and had used in Afghanistan. It was a simple mission and well within the capabilities of his unit. A small probing attack by some American tanks had penetrated the thin security screen on the Army's flank and was threatening a critical town named Arnsdorf. Colonel Potecknov was to wipe out the enemy force and restore the security screen.

While Potecknov was unhappy that his motorized rifle battalion was being diverted from the main effort of the army, he rationalized that it was for the better. His troops were still untried by battle. They had followed around in reserve for the last three days, awaiting the chance to pour through a breach in the American lines that never came. By sweeping up the enemy force at Arnsdorf, the colonel could blood his troops. The cheap victory would help instill some confidence in the battalion and allow him to see how well his officers performed under fire. This would be nothing more than a live-fire exercise with a few targets that fired back.

With Team Yankee's leadership assembled, Bannon went over their current situation, how they were going to hold Hill 214 and what he expected the enemy to do. There wasn't a lot to work with. What they did have had to be stretched to cover threats from any direction. The result was not the soundest plan he had ever made. It violated just about every tactical principle. But, given the situation and time, it was the best he could do. Once the orders were out, the Team began to deploy and dig in. The tanks still constituted their major firepower. Initially, they would fight from their present positions-for now, they were pulled into hide positions. A two-man outpost was established at the tree line to watch to the northwest.

From that position, the tanks were prepared to defend against an attack from Arnsdorf. They also would be prepared to occupy two other positions. The first was on the eastern side of the woods covering the open space between Hill 214 and a wooded lot to the southeast. A Soviet commander could use the lot as a staging area and rush across the open area onto Hill 214. The second position was on the crest of Hill 214 facing south. The Soviet commander might decide to seal off the Team's routes of escape and reinforcement, then hit it from that direction. The Mech Platoon was broken up into three elements. The two rifle squads dismounted and established an ambush along a north-south trail that ran through the center of the woods north of Hill 214. This protected the Team from a dismounted attack from the north through the woods, provided the Soviet commander used the trail to guide on.

The two PCs with only the drivers and track commanders under Uleski established an outpost on the crest of Hill 214 watching to the south. The third element was a two-man OP on the east side of the woods watching the southeast wooded lot. Bannon hoped that if the Soviets came from the south or from the east, the two OPs would be able to give the tanks sufficient warning and time to switch to the alternate positions.

It was the attack through the woods from the north that was, to Bannon, the greatest threat.

Polgar had a total of thirteen men to cover that area. This number included Folk and Kelp as there were no vacant positions on the tanks. The distance from the west edge to the east edge of the wooded lot was just a little over one thousand meters. With two men per foxhole and ten meters between foxholes, the most Polgar could cover was sixty meters. That left a very large gap on either side that the Soviet commander could move whole companies through, if he knew where they were. In all likelihood, however, a commander conducting a night attack through unfamiliar woods would stick to or near the trail for no other reason than to maintain orientation. If that happened, Polgar was ready and waiting with one of their Dragons, two M60 machine guns, two grenade launchers, and the riflemen. To provide an additional edge, antitank and antipersonnel mines were deployed to the front and flanks of the infantry positions. Command and control of the Team was simplified. First, there wasn't that much to command or control. Second, all radios were put on the company net. Bannon took over the XO's tank and stayed with the tanks. With his arm injured, Uleski could not fight 55. Besides, Bannon wanted someone dependable with the PCs covering the south. After the run-in with the T-62s in the morning, he was paranoid about the southern side of Hill 214.

The OP in front of the tanks had a sound-powered phone running back to 55 so that the men at the OP could pass information back to the tanks. The OP on the east side was also using sound-powered phones to maintain contact. Their phone line ran back to Polgar who in turn maintained contact with Bannon via a portable PRC-77 radio on the Team net. With the exception of Polgar, who had to run his dismounted infantry using voice commands, everyone in the Team could contact everyone else.

The afternoon passed in a strange and unnerving silence. The distant rumble of artillery hitting someone else far away had become so routine that unless an effort was made, it wasn't noticed anymore. Everyone was nervous and on edge. At the slightest sound or movement out of the ordinary the men would stop work and grab their weapons. Since the war had begun no one in the Team had had much of a chance for a decent, uninterrupted sleep. In the last thirty-six hours, no one had had more than two hours of sleep. While it was noticeable on everyone, this lack of sleep had its most telling effect on the leaders. Bannon found that he had to repeat orders two or three times. When the orders were being issued for the defense of Hill 214, one of the tank commanders had fallen asleep. Once, while Uleski was telling of his preparations, he stopped in mid-sentence, unable to remember what he intended to say next. The only way Bannon kept going was by constantly moving around. Even then, he sometimes had to stop and try hard to remember what it was he had been doing. The Team could not go on like this for another twenty-four hours. By tomorrow, Bannon thought, they would be at the end of their ability to endure and function.

As he was going over this in his mind, he decided, despite his previous decision, that if they had no contact with anyone from battalion or brigade by 0300 the following morning, he would take Team Yankee off Hill 214 and, under the cover of darkness, reenter friendly lines to the south. If someone was coming, they would be there by then. To try and hold on for another day would be beyond their physical capability. He could only ask so much of the men. During his rounds Bannon informed Uleski and Polgar of his decision.

It was during the last hour of daylight that the Russians came. A column of four T-72s and eight BTR-60PBs rolled down the road into Arnsdorf from the northwest. A motorized rifle company. Garger, Hebrock, and Bannon crawled out to the OP and watched them come. They drove down the road as if Team Yankee were a thousand miles away. The tanks led, followed by the BTR-60s. As this unit had T-72s, it was Bannon's guess that they were from a different regiment or possibly a different division than the Soviet unit the Team had overrun in the morning. The theory that the Russians had shoved everything forward and left their flanks weak seemed to be correct. Their coming from the northwest pointed to the fact that they were robbing the front line units to secure the rear areas. If nothing else, Team Yankee's attack had caused the Soviets to divert forces from their attack to the west.

As they lay there watching the motorized rifle company and tanks move into Arnsdorf, Bannon asked if anyone knew how many men a BTR-60 could carry. Without hesitating, Lieutenant Garger informed him that it could carry twelve passengers and had a crew of two.

For a moment Bannon put down his binoculars and looked at the young lieutenant. In the past three days he had done exceedingly well. His performance had been on par with that of McAlister and Harding. The fact that he had made it this far was a testament to his ability as a tank commander. Bannon had often heard stories about men who were complete zeros in peacetime but became tigers in war. Garger seemed to be one of them. He was glad that circumstances had prevented his replacing him.

They watched and listened as the motorized rifle company pulled into Arnsdorf and stopped.

The vehicles cut off their engines. Orders given by the Russian officers could be heard as they dismounted. Chances were they would wait until dark before trying anything. Probably a dismounted recon and then an attack. The red setting sun seemed an omen of things to come.

From the edge of Arnsdorf, Colonel Potecknov, his deputy, his operations officer, and his political officer surveyed the hill to the southeast. They could see the debris of the artillery battery that had been caught in the open as well as the track marks gouged out by the American tanks. He tried to listen for any tell-tale signs of activity from the hill but could not because of the noise his men were making in the town. He had ordered one company to do so in order to attract the Americans' attention. If they were watching, which the colonel had no doubt they were, they weren't showing themselves. Turning to his operations officer, he said, "Very well. If the Americans won't show themselves, we will go in and find them. Prepare a patrol."

After the operations officer scurried to issue the necessary orders, the colonel turned back and continued to study the hill in the failing light. "A simple exercise. Easy. We shall squeeze this hill like a grape and see what comes out," he said, talking to no one in particular as he watched and waited.

While they continued to watch Arnsdorf in the failing light, 55's loader crawled up beside Bannon and informed him that Polgar had received a report from the OP on the east side that they had heard the sound of vehicles moving through the woods to the southeast. The Soviets evidently intended to hit the Team from both sides at once. As they crawled back, Bannon tried to figure out how to deal with the two threats. The Team could deal with one attack at a time from one direction, not two from entirely different directions. He began to wonder if the show the motorized rifle company had put on while entering Arnsdorf was, in fact, a deception. Perhaps the real attack would come from the east. There was less open ground to cover from that direction. It made sense.

Once back at 55, Bannon radioed Uleski. He ordered the XO to move from the hilltop and go over to where the infantry OP was sited on the east side.

He told him also that he was sending the two 2nd Platoon tanks over. Uleski was to organize the defense there but be prepared to send the tanks back if they were needed. Polgar and his men were to stay put for now, but he was told to be prepared to go either way to reinforce Bannon or Uleski. If the defense of Hill 214 failed, Polgar was to try to get back to his PCs or, if that was not possible, to escape and evade south on foot as best he could. The odds were not good. They had at least four tanks and probably more supported by upwards of two hundred infantry. But it was too late to have second thoughts about fighting or fleeing. The Team was committed. With the last light of day gone, all that was left for the Team to do was wait for the Russians to come. They didn't have long to wait.