Team Yankee

CHAPTER SEVEN Check and Checkmate

It was Sergeant Polgar and his thin line of infantry that were hit first. Just after 2300, movement was detected to their front. At first, it was just the faint rustle of leaves and the snap of a twig. Not enough to home in on or know for sure if there really was someone out there. But soon the infantrymen, using their night vision devices, could see a line of figures slowly advancing in a staggered column on either side of the trail. Polgar was pleased. Their formation and direction could not have been any better as far as he was concerned. He was going to let the lead man get to within ten meters of his foxhole before firing.

As he waited for them, Polgarfs pulse began to beat harder and faster. The fear of premature disclosure of his position by one of his men increased his nervous anxiety, so he kept looking left down his line of positions, then right, then left again. The men, clearly visible through Polgarfs night vision goggles, were ready and like himself, tense. When they were thirty meters from Polgar, the Soviets stopped. His heart skipped a beat. Had his men been discovered? Had he lost the element of surprise? The two lead Soviet soldiers, now fully exposed and clearly visible to Polgar, turned and looked back. Another figure, ten meters behind them, waved a pistol and pointed it forward, whispering a command of some type.

The two lead soldiers turned back to the front and proceeded. They were the point element, and the one with the pistol was obviously the officer in charge.

When the lead Russian came to within ten meters, Polgar slowly released the safety on his M 16, raised it to his shoulder, and fired. The single shot knocked the Russian back and unleashed the well-rehearsed and deadly ambush drill. Three of the infantrymen hit the antipersonnel mine detonators, causing thousands of small round pellets to rip through the Soviet column. The machine guns opened fire along set sectors with a withering cross-fire that knocked down those still standing after the mines had detonated. The grenadiers plunked out 40mm grenades in their sectors. The riflemen surveyed their areas and, like the grenadiers, marked their targets and took them out.

The violence and shock of the ambush were overwhelming. The Russian officer barely uttered a word before he was cut down. The deadly and accurate point-blank fire ensured that any movement by any Russian who survived the first volley was his last. The darkness, the violence of execution, the loss of their leaders, and the resulting confusion were too much. Those lucky enough to be in the rear of the column withdrew back down the trail, pursued by a hail of bullets. Some made it.

The order to cease fire could be heard throughout the woods. As quickly as it had started, the firing stopped and quiet returned.

Polgarfs report to Bannon was matter-of-fact, accurate, and succinct. In his opinion, the Russians had been a platoon and were merely probing for positions and strengths. That discovery had been costly for the Russians. But they had the men available and could afford the price. While the Team awaited the next Soviet move, Polgar shifted his men back several meters to a new line of positions. If the Soviets decided to hit the Team in all directions, the survivors would surely lead the next group back to the point of the ambush.

The next group along the trail would be in attack formation. By dropping back, the next Soviet attack would hit an empty sack. If the Soviets didn't catch on to what, was happening and milled around the old infantry positions, Polgar might catch them off guard and have the edge again. With so few men, he needed every advantage he could get.

About forty-five minutes after the fire fight in the woods, two of the tanks in the village of Arnsdorf cranked up and began to move slowly towards the north, to where the trail entered the wooded lot. The slowness of the move gave the impression that the Russians were trying to hide the move. Any movement of tanks, however, is very difficult to hide. Bannon informed Polgar and told him to be ready for tanks. Smugly, Polgar simply replied, "Send'em, we're ready."

As the tanks moved to the north, the OP in front of the Team Yankee's tanks reported that there was additional movement just inside of that part of the village facing Hill 214. When Bannon radioed to Polgar that he thought both the tanks and infantry positions would be hit at the same time, Uleski also reported movement to his front. The Russians were putting on a full court press. The moment of truth was at hand. After ordering the OP back and telling Lieutenant Garger in 31 to move up as soon as he heard 55 crank up, Bannon wondered if the next move would be check or checkmate.

The incoming rounds simply began to explode. Instinctively, Bannon dropped all the way down into the tank and masked. Specialist 4 Newman, 55's loader, was already masked and looking at Bannon. In an almost matter-of-fact manner, as if he was discussing sports or the weather, he told Bannon, "Those don't sound like the shells we were hit with the other day. There's no whine before they impact."

"Mortars. They must be firing mortars. Probably 120mm mortars from the battalion's mortar battery. They can't do much to us." At least, Bannon didn't think they could.

Once masked and hooked into.the intercom, he had the driver crank up the tank and move up to its fighting position. As they moved forward, Bannon popped his head up and surveyed the scene. The mortar rounds were falling just to the rear of the tanks. The volume of fire was impressive but doing little more than creating noise. A check with Polgar and Uleski revealed that 55 and 31 were the only ones being shelled. Bannon guessed that the Soviet commander was attempting to draw their attention to the sector facing Arnsdorf.

Through their thermal sights, the crews of 55 and 31 watched a line of fifty or more Russian soldiers move out from the village and begin to advance toward the hill. They were followed by four BTR-60s and two tanks at a distance of twenty meters. Behind them came another line of troops followed by their BTRs. The Russians were coming in force this time. Bannon ordered 31 to engage the T-72 on the left on order. Tank 55 would take out the one on the right. They would be firing at the T-72 with straight frontal shots. Bannon wasn't sure how well the 105mm rounds of the M-l would penetrate the front slope of a T-72. He therefore instructed Garger to continue to engage until it burned. There was no time for second-guessing. He didn't want to have some Russian do to them what he had done to the T-62s.

Once the T-72s were destroyed, Bannon wanted 31 to suppress the infantry while 55 took out the BTRs. Not that a BTR was dangerous. With only a 14.5mm gun in its turret, it could not hurt an M-l. But the destruction of the tanks, the methodical destruction of the BTRs, and a steady stream of lead pinning them to the ground in the darkness and confusion of a night attack would have a severe psychological impact on the individual Russian soldier. Bannon hoped that it would discourage him from rushing forward to become a Hero of the Soviet Union.

Polgar came up on the net and reported that he could hear the tanks coming down the trail.

He was ready and waiting. Polgar's transmission was followed immediately by Uleski, who announced that there were about one hundred dismounted soldiers advancing toward him in a column formation. The Russians were going all out this time. They wanted to hold the Team's attention in the front, pin those people they had discovered in the woods with a secondary attack, and sneak up behind. Team Yankee was in check.

It was the infantry that was first in action. The lead tank hit one of the antitank mines. The detonation was followed by a wild volley of small-arms fire from the accompanying Soviet infantry. They simply dropped down wherever they were and opened fire in whatever direction their rifles were pointed. Polgar managed to keep his men in check and quiet. He wanted to suck the Russians in.

When it became apparent that the lead tank was crippled, unable to move forward, and blocking the advance of the second tank, the Russian leading the infantry rose, gave a series of commands, and led his men forward in the attack. As the Russians advanced in a line straddling the trail, they fired from the hip and yelled in order to psych themselves up.

Their firing was wild and of more danger to themselves than to Polgarfs infantry. The firing by the Russians served only to keep Polgar aware of the progress of their advance.

The line of Russians came on. When they reached the line of deserted foxholes, the Russians began to throw grenades in the foxholes and increase their rate of fire. As it became obvious that there was no one there, the Russian officers began to shout orders and attempt to regain control of their men. It was while the Russians were milling about in an effort to reorganize and reorient for their next move that Polgar hit them. As before, the infantry set off several Claymore antipersonnel mines followed by machine-gun and automatic-rifle fire. As the Russians were in a line parallel to the new infantry position, rather than perpendicular as the first group of Russians had been in their column formation, the effects of the volley were far more devastating. Most of the officers went down fast. The Russian soldiers dropped down and began to exchange fire with the infantry. The disabled tank attempted to support from where it was by firing its main gun, but it did little good.

There began a deadly game of hide and seek. The Russians, lacking night vision devices, waited until an American infantryman fired. When he fired his first few shots, the Russian would orient his weapon to the general location that he had seen the muzzle flash. If the American did not move before he fired again, the Russian would take final aim and fire a burst. Doing this, however, exposed the Russians to the same risks and results. So the infantry battle bogged down into a fire fight with sporadic and violent exchanges of gunfire followed by brief pauses as both sides tried to fix new targets, followed again by a new exchange of gunfire as someone found a mark and fired.

Just as the infantry fight reached this standoff, a volley of Soviet artillery hit the trail junction in the center of the wood lot. Obviously, they wanted to isolate each element of the Team to keep it from shifting forces to reinforce an endangered sector. In this manner, if one of Team Yankee's elements beat back one of the three attacks, Bannon would not be able to use the people thus freed to help defend against one of the other two Soviet attacks. The Soviet battalion commander who had come up with this plan was good. He knew his business and was playing all of his pieces well.

As if the impacting artillery was a signal, the infantry advancing on 55 and 31 began to pick up their pace to a trot. As they were not masked, Bannon ordered the crews of 55 and 31 to unmask and prepare to fire when the T-72s were at 700 meters. He issued the fire command and watched as the gunner laid on the T-72. It was becoming quite large, taking up most of the sight. Hitting it would not be the problem. Killing it was his concern. The gunner hit his laser range finder button with his thumb. The range return digits in the bottom of Bannon's extension showed 750 meters. They sat and watched the tank advance. It rumbled along, straining to hold back behind the line of infantry. The gunner ranged again. 720 meters. Almost there. The tank continued to advance. A large inanimate object whose sole purpose was to kill Americans. Team Yankee. Bannon. The gunner ranged again. 690 meters! "FIRE!"

"ON THE WAAY!"

The flash, the recoil, and the blast broke the silence. Target! But the Russian kept coming, turning his gun toward 55. "TARGET! REENGAGE-FIRE!"

"UP! "

"ON THE WAY!"

Again the flash, the recoil, and the blast announced the firing of a main gun round. Again 55 hit the T-72. Still it kept coming. Not only coming, but returning fire. The 55 shuddered in almost the same instant that the T-72 fired.

The loader looked and yelled, "WHAT'S THAT?"

"NEVER MIND." 55 had been hit. "ARE YOU UP?"

"UPS"

"FIRE!"

"ON THE WAY!"

The 55's efforts were finally rewarded. The third round found its mark. The tank commander's hatch on the T-72 was blown open. A fireball rose above the battlefield and was followed by a sheet of flame. The T-72 was dead. The range showing at the bottom of extension was 610 meters. Bannon stuck his head out of the hatch to see what 31 was up to. Its T-72 was also burning. Steady streams of tracers from 31's COAX, loader's machine gun, and caliber .50 were raking the line of Soviet infantry. Already most of them had gone to ground, either dead or trying to keep from becoming that way. Two of the BTRs were starting to fire at 31. Bannon decided to take them out first. Grabbing the override, he slued the turret to the left.

"GUNNER-HEAT-TWO BTRS-LEFT BTR!"

"UPS"

"IDENTIFIED! "

"FIRE!"

The first HEAT round found its mark just below the small turret on the BTR. The impact and the internal explosions caused the BTR to swerve to the left and out of the battle. Both the gunner and Bannon yelled target at the same instant. Without waiting, the gunner laid his sights on the next BTR and yelled "IDENTIFIED!" Once the loader gave an up, Bannon gave the command to fire, and another BTR was dispatched.

Garger surveyed the scene before him. This was becoming all too easy. Both 55 and 31 sat there as if they were on a gunnery range firing at cardboard and plywood targets instead of real people and vehicles.

All three of his machine guns were firing, each one covering a different area. The flames from the burning T-72 provided more than enough light for him and his gunner to fire without the use of night vision devices. A move on the part of the Russians was rewarded by a hail of machine-gun fire. When he couldn't see any movement, he fired at the forms he saw lying on the ground. No doubt he was hacking away at men who Nwere already dead.

When he became bored with that, he personally turned the caliber .50 on a BTR. It was something new and would be challenging. At Knox he had been taught that a caliber .50 could take out a BTR. Here was the perfect opportunity to learn if that was true.

As Bannon was preparing to engage his next target, he noticed that 31 was engaging a BTR with the caliber .50. The rounds were hitting but causing little damage. As a way of reminding Garger to get back to concentrating on pinning the infantry, he turned 55's main gun on the BTR that the lieutenant was trying to destroy with his fifty. One HEAT round was all it took.

Newman informed Bannon that 55 was out of HEAT and down to nine SABOT rounds. As he didn't want to waste those on BTRs, he ordered the loader to load a SABOT round but not to arm the gun. Then he ordered 31 to switch roles with 55. Garger was to work on the last of the BTRs, and 55 would pin the infantry. Garger's reply betrayed his joy. As 31 had, 55 divided its fire into sectors. The gunner engaged the troops to the front and right. The loader manned his machine gun and fired at the troops to the left. When his crew began to fire, Bannon called Uleski and Polgar for an update.

The infantry was still engaged in a standoff fire fight; Just as a Russian officer or NCO would get some of their troops moving, a volley of fire from the infantry would drive them to ground.

The Russian leaders would have to start all over again. Polgar decided to break the deadlock. He sent his Dragon gunner on a wide sweep around the flank to destroy the two Russian tanks. Two other men, each carrying an extra Dragon round, also went to provide cover to the gunner. One of them was Kelp, who volunteered when he heard Polgar giving the order to the Dragon gunner.

The three-man team dropped back a short distance while the rest of the infantry line increased their fire to cover the move. The Dragon gunner, a specialist 4 named Sanders, led the other two as they circled around the fire fight, using the sound and the gun flashes to guide on. When the lead Soviet tank fired, Sanders would reorient himself on his objective and continue. They were going to go for the second tank first because it was still fully capable and therefore more dangerous. The crippled tank could be dispatched at their leisure.

They closed in on the second tank from behind. It was apparently wedged in between some trees and unable to move forward or backwards. Sanders watched for a moment and then moved to a spot where the trees and branches would not interfere with his wireguided missile. He carefully set up his weapon as if he was on a shooting range. When he had the thermal tracker sighted in on the rear of the Soviet-tank, he let the missile fly. The missile was launched with a flash and whoosh followed by the igniting of the Dragon's rocket and the pop-pop-pop of the small guidance jets. The impact lit up the surrounding area and immediately ignited fires in the tank's engine compartment. One Soviet tank was down with another to go.

As he was maneuvering against the crippled tank, a lone figure stood up in front of Sanders at a distance of five meters and fired his AK into his chest. Kelp leveled his submachine gun and in turn cut down the lone figure. Both Kelp and the other infantryman, a private as young as Kelp by the name of McCauley, stood there frozen as they waited to see if any other Russians would pop up. Once they were satisfied that the Russian had been alone, the two knelt beside Sanders' body.

In the darkness Kelp felt for his pulse, first on his wrist, then in his neck. There was none.

"He's dead."

"How do you know?" asked McCauley.

"I know. He's dead." At nineteen, Kelp was fast becoming an expert on death. "Do you know how to work that thing?"

"Yeah. We had a class on it once. I think I can do it. But I ain't sure how we're going to get around to the other tank. There may be more Russians." "You just get that thing and follow ole Kelp here. I'll get you to the Russians' back door."

With that, the two privates set out in the dark hunting for the second tank.

The sound of the infantry's fire fight followed by the artillery barrage and then the firing of 55 and 31 began to unnerve Uleski. It wasn't easy to stand there in the dark, listening to the sounds of a battle immediately to the rear while watching a hundred trained soldiers, whose sole intent was to kill you, calmly advance on your position. Not that Uleski had any doubt about the outcome. Unless there were tanks in the far tree line, the infantry would be no match for the tanks and PCs. Uleski was simply getting impatient. He wanted, as did everyone else, to get on with it. Now. The nausea and fear that had crippled him during the first battle were not present this time.

Instead, a hatred was welling up in him. As he watched the advance, he pounded the fist of his good hand against the roof of the PC. The image of the dead and wounded men scattered about 55 after the second attack on the first day flashed through his mind, flaming his hatred into an open rage. Quietly, the easygoing, fun-loving XO began softly to repeat,

"Come on, you mothers, come on and die."

The column of Russian infantry began to deploy into platoon columns. Their advance was at a nice steady walk. They were in no hurry to join the chaos in the woods on which they were advancing. It seemed to Uleski as he watched that this group of Russians would be just as happy if they arrived in time to help with the body count and not a minute sooner. There was definitely a lack of gung-ho spirit here.

Uleski had his PC turned sideways in a depression near the tree line. One of the infantrymen who had been on the OP and the PC driver were standing up, hanging out of the cargo hatch, their M 16s resting on the side of the PC. The PC commander had the caliber .50 over the side, locked and loaded. Several boxes of additional ammunition were opened and ready at an arm's distance. A loaded M 16 lay on the roof of the PC next to Uleskifs good arm. When the time came, he had every intention of joining the killing. The other PC with the second man from the OP was also ready, in position to the left of Uleski. The two tanks were deployed to the right of the PCs, ready to engage the infantry or any tanks that popped out and surprised them.

When the Russians were about three hundred meters from the PCs, Uleski gave the order to fire. Eight machine guns and four M 16s cut loose, unleashing a hail of tracers and lead that peppered the deploying Russians. For a moment they stood there transfixed, unable to comprehend what was happening to them. Uleski watched through his night vision goggles as some of the Russians first ran one way, then the other, before going to ground for cover.

Officers would try to rally their men and drive them on, only to be cut down as the machine guns from the tanks and PCs raked the area with steady, measured bursts of fire. Uleski decided that this was a green unit and tonight was its baptism by fire. A smile came across his face. Quietly, he said to himself as he picked up the M16, "So be it. You shall be baptized in blood." Robert Uleski, good-natured Ski, had become a cold and hard man.

As with the infantry fire fight, once the Russians went to ground, an impasse seemed to settle in. The Russians stayed where they were while the PCs and tanks were unable to finish the prone figures off. Uleski was too impatient for this. After emptying the magazine of the M 16, he decided to break the deadlock. He ordered the two tanks to move out and make a sweep of the area where the Russians were pinned. Hebrock protested that there could be tanks or antitank guided missile teams in the woods across the way. But Uleski would not hear of it. He wanted the Russians swept away and swept away now. Besides, if there had been tanks or antitank guided missiles in support of the attack, they would have fired by now.

Hebrock and the 22 tank cranked up and moved out. Swinging out wide and then turning north, the two tanks slowly began to advance side by side. They sprayed their machine guns to their front as if they were spraying for insects. The fury of their first fire and the irresistible advance of the steel monsters was too much for some of the Russians. They got up and began to withdraw, some without their weapons. The PCs watched, waiting for such targets.

When the Russians got up, the riflemen and machine gunners cut them down. When the tanks reached the end of the area where the Russians had gone to ground, they swung around and went back through the area again, searching out those who had survived the first run. Most of those who were still alive played dead. They would wait till later to make good their escape.

With no more targets, Uleski ordered the tanks to their alternate positions. He also moved the two PCs. Once his repositioning was finished, and quiet returned to his sector, he reported the status of his element to Bannon.

Potecknov was not at all pleased with the progress, or more correctly, the lack of progress that his companies were making. From the village he watched the destruction of the tanks and BTRs followed by the methodical massacre of his troops. Although he could see his officers attempting to get the men up and moving, it was to no avail. The officers were cut down, and the men, seeing that, decided that it was unwise to expose themselves.

Contact with the company on the far side of the hill had been lost after an initial and incomplete report had stated that they were in contact. Only the company commander in the woods reported progress. Potecknov could hear the report of the T-72's cannon and see an occasional flash. He decided that the attack from the north through the woods offered the best chance of success. Turning to his deputy, he ordered him to stay there with the political officer and try to reorganize the unit to their front. He would go around to the north and push the attack through the woods. Without further ado, Potecknov ran down the stairs and into the street to his vehicle. He was determined to win, regardless of the cost.

Uleski's report found 55 and 31 in the same type of stalemate that he had been in before the counterattack by 24 and 22. Bannon had monitored that action and pondered doing the same thing. Tanks 55 and 31 had destroyed six BTRs in addition to the two tanks. Two BTRs and some of the infantry in the second line had managed to pull back into the village.

The surviving first-line infantry were on the ground and dispersed. Those near the burning vehicles attempted to crawl away from the light and heat created by the fires. Sometimes their efforts were rewarded by a burst of fire from either 55 or 31.

Earlier in the fight a few stout-hearted souls had attempted to engage 55 and 31 with RPGs.

Quick reaction ended these efforts.

While there was no longer any return fire from the line of pinned Russian infantry, Bannon knew there were many of them who were still alive. If they stayed out there or withdrew to the village, they would be of no immediate concern. But if some of their officers were able to rally a few men and slip around to the rear, 55 and 31 would be in danger.

The shifting of the heavy artillery barrage from the trail junction to the tree line, where 55 and 31 were located, decided the next move. Rather than sit there and be pounded, 55 and 31 were going to attack.

"MIKE 77-THIS IS ROMEO 25-OVER."

"THIS IS MIKE 77-OVER."

"THIS IS 25-WE ARE GOING TO ATTACK-WE WILL ADVANCE ABREAST TOWARD THE VILLAGE AT 10 MILES PER HOUR-ONCE AT THE VILLAGE WE WILL GO UP THE STREET THE BTRS WENT UP-FALL IN BEHIND ME AS WE GO THROUGH THE VILLAGE AND COVER OUR REAR-HOW COPY SO FAR7-OVER. "

"THIS IS 77-GOOD COPY-OVER."

"THIS IS 25-ONCE IN THE VILLAGE WE WILL TURN RIGHT ON THE MAIN ROAD AND GO NORTH OUT OF THE VILLAGE-FROM THERE FOLLOW ME — I'M NOT SURE WHERE WE WILL GO-OVER."

"THIS IS 77-WILCO-OVER."

"THIS IS 25-LET'S ROLL."

"THIS IS 77-1 HEARD THAT."

Garger didn't have to tell his driver twice. He was just as anxious to get out from under the artillery fire as his tank commander was. As 31 broke the tree line, Garger could see 55 illuminated by the fires of the burning Russian vehicles. Both he and his loader increased their rates of fire and began indiscriminately to spray machine gun fire before the tank as it advanced.

This was too much for many of the survivors still lying on the ground between the village and the tree line. First there had been the battle between the tanks, which their tanks had lost.

Then there had been the accurate and deadly machinegun fire that had cut down their comrades and officers and anyone who tried to stop it. Their BTRs had been destroyed one at a time and were now burning hulks incinerating their crews. Around them were visions of horror: burning vehicles, steady fire from an unseen enemy, apparent failure of their tanks and artillery, death of their comrades, moans of the wounded, screams of men burning to death, and the smell of burning flesh. And worst of all, the feeling that they were the only survivors, that every man around them was dead or dying. All this pushed the green Russian soldiers to the limit of their endurance. The appearance of the American tanks closing on them, spraying death, pushed them beyond.

The 55 and 31 had no sooner cleared the tree line and the incoming artillery when individual Russian soldiers began to jump up and flee. The driver kept 55 at a steady ten miles an hour. Bannon, the loader, and the gunner covered their sectors, engaging Russians as they made their appearance. The loader covered the left flank, the gunner the center, and Bannon the right. Those who were smart and not in the direct path of the advancing tanks stayed put and played dead. There were few smart Russians that night.

The tanks converged on the village. At the edge of the village, 31 slowed down, let 55 take the lead, and swung its turret over the rear, continuously engaging soldiers who were attempting to flee the carnage. As 55 turned the first corner in the village, it was greeted by a BTR at a range of twenty meters.

The BTR was frantically trying to back up and get out of the way. Both the BTR commander and Bannon looked at each other for the briefest of moments before they began to issue frantic orders.

"GUNNER- BATTLESIGHT-BTR!

The shock of seeing a target so close caused the gunner to raise the level of his reply several decibels.

"IDENTIFIED!"

"SABOT LOADED-UP! — "

"FIRE!"

At this range and with the speed of the SABOT round, firing and impact were almost simultaneous. Bannon felt heat of the impact on his face. The brilliant flash of contact and the shower of sparks lit up the street and momentarily blinded him. The SABOT round cut through the center of the BTR and went flying down the street behind the BTR into a building.

The BTR burst into flames and staggered to a stop.

For a moment, 55 stood there with its gun tube almost touching the BTR. All action seemed to stop, as if everyone had to pause and catch his breath. Carefully, Bannon guided 55 around the burning BTR and continued down the street. Tank 31 followed, Garger and his loader shielding themselves from the heat of the flames. The tanks continued into the town, searching for new targets.

Kelp and McCauley had finally managed to get themselves into a good position. The rear of the crippled T-72 was less than a hundred meters to their front. They had a clear shot. The burning hulk of the other T-72 provided just enough light for McCauley as he fumbled about fitting the thermal sight to a new Dragon round.

Kelp was getting impatient, "I thought you said you knew how to use that thing."

"I told you, I only had one class on it, and that was a long time ago. Give me a break, will ya?

I'm doin1 the best I can. "

"Well, do your best faster, damn it." For a moment the situation reminded Kelp of many similar conversations between him and Folk. Folk was always on his back to do things faster or better. As he watched McCauley fumble with the sight and round, Kelp realized why Folk had been so hard on him. He owed Folk a huge apology. "Got it! I think."

"About time. Let's do it."

McCauley set up the Dragon and braced himself as he had seen the other gunner do. Kelp got over to one side and scanned the area for Russian soldiers.

"Here goes. "

The shock of firing the weapon for the first time made McCauley jump as the missile launched. The missile flew a few meters and hit a tree, causing it to fall to the ground and spin around as the rocket motor burned and popped.

"SHIT! GET THE OTHER ROUND!"

McCauley scrambled to detach the sight from the expended round as Kelp rolled the next one to him. Kelp watched as a figure came up out of the T-72's TC's hatch and looked to the rear where the first missile was still burning. The turret began to traverse around.

"SHIT! HURRY OR WE'RE DEAD MEAT!" yelled Kelp.

Fear of death motivated McCauley. He managed to connect the sight to the new round the first time. Kelp kept glancing back and forth between the T-72 and McCauley. It was a race that would have horrible consequences for the loser.

Just as the T-72's long gun was about to lay on the two privates, it slammed into a tree and stopped. The tank commander yelled an order. The gunner swung the turret back a few meters and then tried to knock the tree down with the gun tube. But the tree was too big.

They could not finish laying on the two privates. When the tank commander saw they were not going to get the turret around, he unlocked his 12.7mm machine gun, trained it in their direction, and fired.

The wild burst flew harmlessly over the heads of the two privates. Kelp brought his submachine gun up to his shoulder and fired an equally harmless burst at the Russian tank commander. It was then that McCauley let loose with the second Dragon missile. The flash and whoosh of launch, the burn of the rocket motor, and the detonation of impact ended the fire fight.

The small-arms fire to their rear and the destruction of the second tank took the last fight out of the Russians facing Polgar. One at a time and in pairs they began to drift back north along the trail. At first Polgar thought that they were thinning the line to form a group for an end run. But as the Russian return fire slackened, then ceased, he knew the truth. The shadows created by the Russians as they drew back past the burning tanks kept moving north. For the second time that night, the order to cease fire rang out through the wooded lot.

The firing began to slacken, then stop, as Colonel Potecknov moved down the trail. At first, he was elated. They had succeeded in breaking the American line. But the faint yells in English, followed by the appearance of figures headed in his direction convinced the colonel that success had not been his. His men were retreating.

Potecknov was not about to give up. Picking his pace up to a slow trot, he began to wave and yell at his men, ordering them to turn around and go back.

The relief and elation over their victory against the T-72 were short-lived. Kelp and McCauley had just begun to move back to rejoin the rest of the infantry when several figures came toward them from the direction of the infantry positions. Both of them dropped down behind a tree, back to back. At first Kelp thought the Russians were sending men back to find them. But the figures went past them in a hurry. They were making no effort to search the bushes for the tank killers. It dawned upon Kelp that the Russians were retreating. That was good. Unfortunately, they were right in the middle of the Russians' path of retreat. The two soldiers continued to huddle behind the tree, each facing out to one side with their weapons at the ready. Kelp watched as the number of Russians increased. It hadn't occurred to him that there were so many of them. It was amazing that the infantry had not only held, but had caused the Russians to retreat. As he was watching this flood of refugees from the front, a lone figure came running south down the trail, waving a pistol and shouting: Had to be an officer, Kelp thought. The dumb bastard was trying to stop the retreat. For a moment, Kelp wondered if he should kill the officer. But that feat of heroism was not needed. Kelp watched as this figure stopped a group of three retreating Russians and tried to push them back. To Kelp's surprise, one of the three leveled his AK, stuck it into the officer's stomach, and let go a burst. The officer flew back and sprawled over the trail like a rag doll. The one who had fired the AK said something in Russian. All three continued north, stepping over the dead officer.

One of the party kicked the officer in the head as he went by. The Russian soldiers had had enough for the night. Kelp's attention was suddenly drawn to his front as a Russian stumbled and fell right next to him. Kelp and the Russian stared at each other for a moment before they realized that they were looking eyeball to eyeball at the enemy. As the Russian opened his mouth to let out a scream, Kelp leaped on the Russian's chest, putting one hand on the Russian's throat and the other over his mouth. The Russian grabbed the hand Kelp had over his mouth with both hands and tried to pry it off. Kelp pushed down harder but felt his grip slipping.

Just as the Russian succeeded in prying Kelp's hand off his mouth, he went stiff and let go of Kelp's hand. Kelp turned around to see McCauley jab his bayonet into the Russian's stomach a second and third time. When the Russian went limp, Kelp let him go and grabbed McCauley's arm as he started to stab the Russian a fifth time. The two privates looked at each other, then resumed their back-to-back position behind the tree as the last of the Russians went by without noticing the small battle that had occurred in the silent and dark wood.

Colonel Potecknov lay there on the trail, unable to move. In the silence of the dark woods he could feel his life slipping away. There was pain, intense pain. He also began to feel cold even though it had been a warm summer evening. He was bleeding to death, and he knew there was nothing that he could do to stop that. In his last minutes, his thoughts were not on the fears of the unknown fate that awaited him or of the shame of failure. Rather, he was puzzled and bewildered. His battalion should have succeeded! He had done everything right. The plan had been a good one. It had been foolproof. What had gone wrong? Why hadn't it worked? The Russian colonel sought answers for these questions until darkness swept over his mind.

The 55 was just entering the village square when Bannon received Polgar's report that the Russians had broken contact and had withdrawn to the north. The run through the village so far had been quick and dirty. After the BTR had been destroyed, everyone and everything scattered up alleys or into houses. In the town square there were several trucks and two BTRs with soldiers scrambling to board them and get out. When 55 rolled into the square, the trucks began to roll with troops hanging half in, half out. One of the BTR drivers panicked and backed up over a group of soldiers that had run behind it for cover. A truck driver watching 55 and not paying attention to where he was going ran over an officer waving him down and crashed into a store window at the edge of the square. All this confusion was created just by 55's appearance and without a shot being fired. When 31 pulled up next to 55, and both tanks began to fire with main guns and machine guns, the situation really went to hell.

Satisfied that all the Russians were gone, Kelp and McCauley began to move forward cautiously toward the infantry positions. After what they had gone through, the last thing Kelp wanted was to get blown away by his own side. As he moved forward, Kelp stepped up onto a piece of metal. When he looked down, he was overpowered by a surge of fear. In the faint light from the burning tanks Kelp saw that he was standing on one of the antitank mines they had put out earlier. He knew he was dead.

But nothing happened. It finally occurred to him that he was not heavy enough to set off the mine. Even so, when he mustered the courage to remove his foot, he did so with the greatest of care. Sweat rolled down his face as he tried to regain composure before moving on. There were too many ways to get killed out here. Kelp wanted his tank back. This infantry shit was for the birds.

When he thought that they were close enough to the infantry positions, Kelp called out to let them know they were coming back. Polgar, unfamiliar with Kelp's voice, ordered them to advance and be recognized. When they were in the open, Polgar gave them the challenge.

Only after Kelp gave the proper password were the two tank killers allowed back into the fold.

Once the tanks were clear of the village, Bannon ordered 31 to move up to the right of 55.

As they were starting to swing south to return to their positions, they ran into the Russian infantry that had just broken contact with Polgar. Apparently, the Russians had not heard of the run through the village by the American tanks and thought 55 and 31 were Russian. They simply stood aside to let them pass. When the tanks cut loose with machine guns, the last semblance of order evaporated and the Russians scattered to the four winds. Only the jamming of 55's last operational machine gun broke off the engagement. The battle for Hill 214 was over, for now. Checkmate.

As 55 and 31 moved south along the tree line in silence, Bannon radioed Uleski and Polgar.

He ordered them to pull their people back to the trail junction and form a coil. Polgar and his men would cover the north, Uleski and his element would cover the east and south and 55 and 31 would cover the west. When everyone was in, they were to meet at the trail junction.

Bannon was the last to arrive. Uleski, Polgar, Jefferson, and Hebrock greeted Garger and him with nothing more than a nod. With not so much as a word of greeting, he simply asked, "OK, what do we have?" Uleski had suffered only one wounded, a PC driver who had been hit in the shoulder during their fire fight and had lost a lot of blood but was in stable condition. Both the PCs and the 2nd Platoon tanks had ample ammo on hand. Polgar's dismounted element had suffered two killed, including the Dragon gunner, and four wounded, two of them seriously. Although his people had run low on ammunition while on the firing line, now that they were with the PCs, the men were replenishing their ammo pouches from ammunition stored on the PCs. The only casualty between 55 and 31 had been 31's loader. He had been hit in the face by a bullet during the run through the village. Though he was in a lot of pain, he would survive. For the price of two dead and six wounded, Team Yankee had held.

But the Team had reached the end of its rope. Even as they stood there, Bannon could tell that the stress and strain of this last fight had used up every man's final reserve of energy. They had done their best and done well. But there was no more to give. Besides the exhaustion, the tanks were down to a grand total of thirty-one main gun rounds and four thousand rounds for the COAX and loader's machine gun. Even if the men could hold up under another attack, which was impossible, the ammunition couldn't. Bannon informed the Team's leadership that at 0330 they would leave Hill 214 and move south in order to reenter friendly lines. There was no need to explain. There were no protests or speeches. Everyone understood the situation and knew there was nothing more to be gained here. Now the Team's mission was to save what was left for another day.

To prepare for the move, the wounded were loaded onto the PCs, three in each. Folk, who could drive a PC, took the place of the wounded PC driver. Kelp took the place of the wounded loader on 31. Uleski would command one of the PCs and half of the infantry while Polgar took the other PC and the other half of the infantry. The tank crews redistributed the ammunition between the tanks. When all was ready, the Team settled in to wait until 0330 and move out. Deep inside, Bannon wanted to believe that at the last minute the battalion would come forward and link up. He was going to give them another hour and a half. If they didn't get here by then, he was going to save as much of Team Yankee as he could.