Team Yankee

CHAPTER EIGHT R and R

The damned fly kept bothering him. It wasn't the buzzing so much. Bannon could block that out. It was the fact that the bastard kept landing on the cut on the side of his face and irritating it. He'd no sooner shoo it away with a halfhearted wave of his hand than it would come back and land. How could he get any sleep with that damned fly bothering him. Sleep.

"SLEEP! MY GOD, I'VE FALLEN ASLEEP!" That thought stunned Bannon. His eyes popped open and were greeted by the morning sun. Almost instinctively, his arm shot up to check the time on his watch. 0548. The Team had missed its move-out time by over two hours! Now it was full daylight. Chances of slipping away under the cover of darkness were gone.

Bannon looked over into the loader's hatch. Newman was sitting upright on his seat sound asleep. A scan of the tight circle of tank and PCs failed to reveal any sign of movement. Instead of being alert and watching their sectors, track commanders were slumped across their machine guns asleep. Infantrymen lay curled up on the ground asleep where they had fallen. Even the wounded were quiet. The calamity was complete. Team Yankee had collectively gone to sleep.

Bannon jumped down to awaken the crew of 55. The gunner was lying up against the main gun. "Sergeant GWENT! Sergeant GWENT! WAKE UP!" Gwent sat up, shook his head, then jumped when he realized he had fallen asleep.

"Oh shit, sir. I fell asleep. Goddamn, I'm sorry." "Well, don't feel like the Lone Ranger.

Everyone is asleep. " Gwent suddenly realized what Bannon was telling him, and that it was light outside. His eyes grew big. "You mean we didn't pull off that hill yet? We're still behind enemy lines?"

"Target. Now get the rest of the crew up while I wake the Team up. AND DON'T CRANK THE TANK."

Without waiting for a response, Bannon climbed out and began to dismount the tank. The spaghetti cord connecting the CVC to the intercom jerked his head back to remind him to disconnect it before jumping off 55. Once disconnected and on the ground, he headed for the first leader he saw, Polgar. Polgar was asleep, leaning against the side of a tree with his Ml6 cradled in his arms. After being shaken a moment, his eyes opened into narrow slits, looked to the left, looked to the right, looked at Bannon, then flew wide open. "SHIT! I fell asleep."

"Well, Sergeant Polgar, you ain't alone. Wake up the XO and your people while I get the tank crews. Gather the leadership at 55 when they're up. AND DON'T START ANY ENGINES.

Clear?"

"Clear." With that, Polgar was up in a flash, hustling from body to body, waking each one up with kicks, shakes, and curses. Bannon trotted over to 31.

Garger was leaning over backwards, asleep, arms extended and stiff. He looked as if he had been shot. "Gerry! Gerry! Lieutenant Garger! WAKE UP!" His eyes opened in tiny slits.

Like Polgar, he looked at Bannon for a moment, then jumped upright. "OH SHIT!" It occurred to Bannon that "Oh shit!" was fast becoming the standard greeting for the Team instead of good morning. If their predicament wasn't so serious, this whole situation would have been comical.

"Gerry, get the rest of the tank crews up and have the TCs meet me over at 55. And tell the TCs not to crank the tanks." As Bannon was getting off, Garger reached down and kicked his gunner in the back, telling him to wake up.

As he headed back to 55, Bannon began to work on a way out of this one. There would be no slipping away under the cover of darkness. If the Team moved, it would be in broad daylight, just like yesterday. That thought was disturbing. But staying here to face a new series of Russian attacks was equally distasteful. The collapse of the Team's security confirmed his belief that it was at the end of its tether. The Russians were sure to come back with more people and tanks. Bannon didn't dare face a wounded bear with a handful of punch-drunk soldiers. They had to pull out, the sooner the better.

Once the leaders were together, he issued his orders. The Team would go out the way they had planned. Since the Soviets had not hit them from the south, that was the direction the Team would take. The 55 and 31 would lead, traveling abreast once they were in the open.

The PCs would come next, in the center, followed by 24 and 22. The Team would move around the west side of the hill that had been Objective LOG and go back into friendly lines the same way they had come out. The only difference in the plan was that rather than creep along in an effort to sneak out, they would roll as fast as the PCs would allow. In addition, the tanks would fire up their smoke generators and blow smoke the entire way back. While 55 and 31 would be exposed to the front and flank, the PCs and the other two tanks would be hidden in a rolling cloud of smoke.

As they were about to break up and return to their vehicles, a volley of artillery fire impacted to the south in the vicinity of Hill 214. Everyone turned in that direction. When a second volley confirmed their fears, all eyes turned back on Bannon. They had been too late. The Russians were coming back.

"All right. Sergeant Polgar, you come with me. We're going to go up there and see what's going on. Bob, you're in charge while we're gone. Be ready to crank up and roll if the Russians come. Until then, stay alert and keep quiet. If the

Russians come before we're back, leave without us. Move in the opposite direction until you're in the open. Then carry out the plan as we have discussed. Any questions?"

There were none. What else could they do? Bannon turned to Polgar. "Do you have an extra M 16?"

"Yes, sir. I can take one from one of the wounded."

"Good, get me one, a couple of magazines, and meet me back here, pronto." Polgar went over to one of the tracks. Bannon turned to Uleski. "Bob, no heroics. If there's trouble, and we're not back, get out of here. Clear?" "Clear."

By the time he had his helmet and web gear on, Polgar was back with the rifle. After inserting a magazine and chambering a round, the two turned and started to head south.

Polgar followed Bannon at a distance of five meters and a little to his right. The assembled leaders watched them for a moment before Uleski bellowed out the order to mount up and be ready to move.

After they had gone a hundred meters, the artillery stopped. He and Polgar paused and squatted down to listen for a moment. The sound of tracked vehicles could be heard to the south. Bannon motioned to Polgar. They continued on. As they were nearing the crest of the hill and the tree line, he saw movement to his front. Instinctively, he dropped into a prone firing position behind the nearest tree. Both he and Polgar watched and waited. To the left Bannon noticed a movement. Then there was more to the front at a distance of fifty meters.

As they watched, a line of figures approached through the woods. He turned to Polgar and whispered, "When I start shooting, run like hell back to the XO and tell him to go east out of here. " Polgar thought about it. "You're the Team commander, I'll cover you. You go back and tell the XO."

"Damn it, Polgar, I gave you an order. You better be ready to move when I let go. Clear?" Polgar didn't reply. He only nodded.

Bannon turned back to watch the line of figures continue forward. Slowly he reached into his pocket and pulled out the two frag grenades he had taken off 66 before destroying it.

He raised the M 16 up to his shoulder and began to sight in on the nearest figure. This was going to be a very short fight.

As Bannon watched the figure in his sight, it occurred to him that the uniform was very familiar. It was camouflage. Then he noticed the rifle. It was an M 16. They were Americans. He turned to Polgar and whispered, "Americans." Polgar stuck his head up a little higher, looked, and then smiled.

Remembering the day before, he was a little more cautious in making contact. He let the line of infantry get within twenty meters and then bellowed out, "HALT!"

The line of infantry froze where they stood, ready to drop and fire. Their heads slowly turned to find the origin of the voice.

"Advance and be recognized."

Their heads snapped as one in Bannon's direction. He slowly rose up to the kneeling position but kept his rifle trained on the nearest man. He began to move toward him. When he was close enough, Bannon repeated the order,

"Halt." At that point, he was unable to recall the challenge and password.

He had to do something fast before the people in front of him got excited and fired. "We're Team Yankee, Task Force First of the Seventy Eight. We were cut off. Who are you?" Bannon kept his rifle aimed at the figure.

"What's the challenge?"

"I don't know. We were cut off yesterday. I'm Captain Bannon, the team commander." The infantry was beginning slowly to spread out. Things were not working out well at all.

From behind, Polgar called out, "Hey, Kerch. Is that your mob of dirt bags out there?"

The infantryman in front of Bannon straightened up, let the muzzle of his rifle drop some, and turned toward Polgar's voice. "Polgar, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. Now tell your mob to ease up so the captain and I can get up." With that, Polgar stood up and began to come over to where Sergeant First Class Kerch, A company 1st of the 78th Mechanized Infantry, and Bannon had been holding each other at bay. Team Yankee had been relieved.

Polgar led Kerch and his people through the woods to where Team Yankee was located.

Bannon went up to the top of Hill 214 where the battalion command group was. It occurred to him as he followed the trail to the top of the hill that he'd been here for over twenty hours, had fought for the hill and done his damnedest to hold it and had never been on top of it. He was finally going to see what the Team had paid for so dearly. At the wood line he passed the tracks from a platoon of the 1 st of the 78th that had been attached to the I st of the 4th Armor. They were waiting for word to go in and pick up the dismounted element he and Polgar had encountered. Just below the crest of the hill, two tanks and a PC sat, peering over the top toward Arnsdorf below. There were three figures standing next to the PC looking at a map board. When one of the figures looked up and saw Bannon approaching, he motioned. The other two looked up, put down the map board, and started towards him. They were the battalion commander, XO, and S-3 of the 1 st Battalion, 4th Armor, Team Yankee's parent battalion. As he closed, Bannon saluted and, as nonchalantly as possible, greeted Team Yankee's saviors.

"Sean, Colonel Reynolds told us you had been wiped out last night." "Sir, the news of our demise has been greatly exaggerated. D company is reporting for duty." Not that they could do anything but, what the hell, it sounded good.

Maj. Frank Shell, the S-3, looked him over for a moment, then turned to the battalion commander. "If the rest of his people look as bad as Sean, the infantry was right, Team Yankee was wiped out." Then he turned back to Bannon and, seriously this time, asked if the rest of the Team did look like him. Bannon's eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles around them. Every exposed patch of skin was dirty. He had two days' growth of beard. The cut on the side of his face had become swollen from infection, and there was dried blood on his face and neck and around his collar. There was also dried blood on the chest and sleeves of his chemical suit from pulling Ortelli from 66. This was mixed with diesel and oil stains. Bannon guessed he couldn't have looked much worse. As they walked over to the PC, he explained the Team's situation and requested that an ambulance be sent immediately to the trail junction to bring out the wounded. The battalion XO got on it and had an M-113 ambulance rumbling down to the Team in minutes. They stopped by the tanks and looked down into Arnsdorf. There were still wisps of smoke rising from some of the burned-out Soviet vehicles. Scores of dead Russians littered the field among the smashed vehicles. The battalion commander looked at Bannon, "I take it you did that last night."

"Yeah. With a little help. Very little help," he replied without turning away. It all seemed so remote now, so foreign. Bannon had difficulty equating the scene before him with the horror show that had been last night. He gazed up at the clear blue morning sky, across the valley to the green hill to the north, and then at the battalion commander. "Yes, sir. We did that and more."

After the battalion commander and XO left to go down into Arnsdorf and follow the attack, Major Shell updated Bannon on what had happened since yesterday morning and how 1st of the 4th had come into play. The Mech Battalion that Team Yankee was part of had become spread out all over the division's rear during the night road march. While passing through one of the villages at night, part of the column had taken a wrong turn. The people leading the two line companies, C and D, the battalion trains, and the battalion CP all realized their mistakes at different times and tried to get back onto the proper route separately. This led to confusion and more errors, just as the first sergeant had reported.

D company was the first to show up and join Team Bravo on its overwatch position at 1730 last night. C company went into the rear areas of the German panzer division that was to the south of the division, got turned around, and then ran out of fuel. It never reached its destination, being held in the rear as part of the division reserve. The battalion trains pulled in at night but never told anyone. Major Jordan found them by accident in the area where they were supposed to be. The S-4, in charge of the trains, thought the battalion was still under radio listening silence, never realizing the net had been jammed, and the battalion had moved to another frequency. Team Bravo, which had been in position to support Yankee, moved up to LOG but was thrown off in the late morning by a dismounted counterattack from Lemm.

When all this had been sorted out by the battalion and brigade commanders, it was decided to pull the 1st of the 78th Mech out and throw in the 1 st of the 4th Armor. As Team Bravo was combat ineffective, and everyone thought that, except for recovered tracks, Team Yankee was gone, the I st of the 78th was sent to the rear to reconstitute and act as reserve.

The 1st of the 4th relieved the Mech Battalion at 0300, just after the battle of Hill 214, and began its attack at 0530, just before the Team woke up. Major Shell told Bannon that he, the commander, and the XO were trying to figure out what had happened to all the Russians that the 1 st of the 78th had reported and who had done all the damage in Arnsdorf when Bannon showed up.

The good news from this comedy of errors was that Team Bravo held LOG long enough for First Sergeant Harrert to gather up the Team's wounded and recover those tracks that had only been damaged. To Bannon's surprise, he found out that First Sergeant Harrert had four tanks and two PCs, including the HQ PC, in varying states of repair. In the attack against LOG, Team Yankee had had only two tanks totally destroyed, 21 and 66, one PC, the 1 st Squad of the Mech Platoon, and the FIST track. For casualties, not counting the men who were killed on Hill 214, the Team had lost fifteen killed and six wounded. The number of killed seemed staggering and out of proportion. But as he thought about it, it made sense.

Tank 21 and the infantry PC alone accounted for thirteen of the dead.

While Bannon pondered the Team's good fortune, Major Shell contacted brigade and received orders for Team Yankee. The Team was to road march to the rear and join the 1 st of the 78th in reserve. He gave Bannon the location of the Mech Battalion's new CP in the rear and the route the Team was to use. Bannon asked for and received permission to stop by the 1 st of the 4th1s combat trains and pick up some diesel. With a battalion to run, the S-3 had to go. He told Bannon to get the cut on his face taken care of while the Team was refueling at the trains and wished him luck. The S-3 mounted his PC, they exchanged salutes, and then he rolled down into Arnsdorf to join his commander. Bannon went back to Team Yankee, relieved in every sense of the word.

The formal portion of the morning briefing at the Tenth Corps Headquarters was over. The commanding general got up and walked over to the two maps that were displayed before him. On the large-scale map the overall situation in Germany was displayed. It was not good. In the NORTHAG, or Northern Army Group, area the Soviets were fast approaching the Dutch border. Hamburg and Bremerhaven had fallen. Though there had not been a breakthrough, several portions of the front were threatened with collapse. Already two corps commanders had requested the release of tactical nuclear weapons in order to break up concentrations of Warsaw Pact units. Follow-on Soviet, Polish, and East German units were moving toward the front to resume the attack.

The CENTAG or Central Army Group area, where the Tenth Corps operated, was much better. The terrain there was not the best for armored warfare. In addition, French forces were readily at hand and beginning to reach the front.

Turning to his small-scale map that depicted the corps' area of operation and current situation, he began to run his finger along the front line trace of his units, stopping every so often to study Warsaw Pact forces that were opposing the corps. At one point, he stopped his finger on a group of Soviet units and turned to his Intel officer. "George, these people here, you said that they are continuing west?"

"Yes, sir. We expect them to be in the vicinity of Kassel by tomorrow morning at the latest unless we can get the Air Force to delay them." "What's coming up behind them, George?

Who is going to be in the Leipzig area two to four days from now?"

"Well, sir, right now, no one. There is one Polish division here that could be in that area, but that's about it."

Without turning away from the map and motioning with his hand, the general began to issue instructions to his operations officer. "Frank, get your Plans people to work on an attack centered around the 21 st Panzer Division. As soon as the French relieve it, I want the 21st to move here and attack north into the Thuringer Wald. The mission of the 21 st is to breach the Soviet security screen and then cross the Inner German Boundary here. The second phase of the operation will be a passage of lines by the 52nd or 54th Division with orders to continue the attack north across the Saale River towards Leipzig. I want this operation to commence in three days. Have your people prepared to present me a decision briefing by 1800 hours tonight. What are your questions?"

The operations officer studied the map for a moment, then turned to the general, "Sir, can I plan on using the 25th Armored Division? Also, how far do you want us to plan after we reach Leipzig?"

"Frank, I want your plan to use everything we've got. For planning purposes you will consider our axis of advance from where we are to Leipzig, Berlin, and finally the Baltic coast. If I can convince the CINC, we're going to go for broke."

Without further ado, the briefing broke up, staff officers scurrying in all directions to prepare for the evening briefing.

The road march was uneventful. Team Yankee had fortyfive kilometers to cover and could have done it in an hour had it not been for the traffic. As Team Yankee was going to the rear this time, and its road march had not been scheduled by the division's movement control center, it was bumped by higher priority traffic going to the front or wounded headed for the rear. It was amazing how many vehicles there were driving around in division's rear. As they sat on the side of the road waiting for a convoy to go by before the Team could move again, Garger wondered if someone was really in charge of all this. There were long convoys of supply and fuel trucks, artillery batteries, columns of ambulances moving rearward, a field hospital moving forward, engineers all over, and equipment he had never seen before and whose purpose he had no idea of. That an army could bring order out of this apparent chaos, keep people fed, vehicles fueled, and units arriving at the right place at the right time was a source of wonder to him.

The biggest problem Bannon had during the long pauses while the Team waited for a break in the traffic was waking everyone up when it was time to move. It seemed that each time they stopped, the men fell over asleep. Once, when a break in the traffic appeared, it took so long to wake everyone up that by the time they were ready to roll, a new convoy came by and the Team had to wait again. The men immediately went back to sleep.

The worst part of the march was seeing the suffering of the local Germans who had stayed.

As the Team rolled past, if they acknowledged them at all, it was only with blank stares.

Bannon shuddered to think what was going through their minds, especially the old people.

This was the second time in their lives that they had seen war. As the Team passed through one of the villages, an old woman stopped pushing a cart and watched. Bannon could see tears running down her cheeks as they went by. He would never know for whom she was crying.

The children bothered him the most. During peacetime maneuvers through the German countryside they would wave and laugh and run along the side of the tracks, yelling to the soldiers to throw them candy or rations. American soldiers often did. But now the children didn't come. Instead, when they heard the rumble of the tanks, they ran and hid. Only a few would peek to see whose tanks they were. Even when they saw that the tanks were American, there were terror and fear in their eyes.

Bannon began to understand why the pacifist movement had been so large in Europe. The children of the last war, who had witnessed his uncle's Sherman tank roll through their villages, had not wanted their children to experience the same horror. Unfortunately, the good intentions of the parents were no match for the intentions of the Soviet leaders. As had happened too often in the past, good intentions and the desire for peace were useless against cold steel and people willing to use it.

Looking at these children caused Bannon to wonder about his own. They still didn't know if all the families had made it out before hostilities. After awhile, he began to turn away whenever he saw the children. The thoughts they brought to his mind were too painful.

Three hours after they started, Team Yankee finally rolled into the town where the I st of the 78th was supposed to be. As the Team entered the town, they passed a group of American soldiers sitting in front of a house cleaning their weapons. They were stripped down to their T-shirts or bare chests, enjoying the weather and in no hurry to finish the tasks at hand.

Some of the men didn't even have their boots on. Their PC was parked in an alley. Clothes and towels were draped on it to dry. A shirt was even hanging on the barrel of the caliber .50.

Bannon stopped 55 and signaled the rest of the column to halt. Turning to the group of soldiers, he called out, "Who's in charge here?"

A couple of the soldiers looked to the left and the right, then chattered among themselves. One young soldier turned and yelled back: "Who the fuck wants to know?"

Garger later told Bannon that he had never seen him move so fast. When the soldier gave him that reply, he was out of the turret of 55 and on the ground headed for the man at a dead run, all in one motion. "ON YOUR FEET, YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A SOLDIER! ALL OF YOU! YOU TOO!"

They suddenly realized that perhaps they were talking to an officer and began to stand up. Not that they could tell-the only thing different about Bannon since his meeting with the Tank Battalion command group that morning had been the cleaning of the wound on the side of his face. Regardless of who he was or how he looked, "Who the fuck wants to know" is a poor reply, especially for a soldier.

"All right, soldier, I'll ask you one more time. And if you give me a smartass answer like you just did they'll be sending your remains home in a very small envelope. Is that clear?"

Before answering, the soldier took stock of this godawfullooking and — smelling figure before him. Taking no more chances, he came to attention. "Sir, our squad leader is not here. "

"That's not what I asked you, soldier. I asked you who is in charge. There is someone in charge of this gaggle, isn't there?" "I guess I am, sir."

"YOU GUESS! YOU GUESS! DON'T YOU KNOW?" "Yes, sir, I am in charge, sir." "What unit are you, soldier?" "Company C, sir."

"Good, great! You wouldn't happen to know what battalion you belong to, would you?"

"Sir, the Fighting First of the 78th, sir."

By this time, the tracks in Team Yankee had shut down and were listening to the conversation. When the soldier Bannon was dressing down came out with the fighting first comment, everyone in the Team broke out in uproarious laughter. From struggling with his rage, Bannon suddenly found himself struggling to hold back his laughter. He lost. The C company soldiers were enraged at being the object of laughter, but they said and did nothing. They were not about to tempt the wrath of a column of soldiers who looked as Bannon did. They simply stood at attention and bit their tongues. After regaining control of himself, barely, Bannon continued, "All right, soldier. Where is your Battalion CPT' The soldier told him that it was in a school just down the street and how to get there. With that Bannon turned and climbed aboard 55, gave the hand and arm signal to crank up and move out, then led Team Yankee at a dead run to the headquarters of the Fighting First.

As Bannon and Uleski walked down the corridors of the German school. Bannon felt out of place. In the field he felt at ease. They belonged in the field. That was where they worked. But this was a school, a place where young children came to learn about the world and to prepare for the future.

Bannon was a soldier whose job was to close with and destroy the enemy by fire, maneuver, and shock effect. In short, to kill. He had no business here, in a place of the future. The two hurried down the corridors in silence so as not to offend the spirit of the school. When they entered the classroom where the battalion staff and company commanders were having a command and staff briefing, they felt more out of place. Though hard to imagine, the battalion staff appeared to be even cleaner than they had been two days ago, when the order to take Hill 214 had been given. It could have been that Bannon was just dirtier. Both he and the XO had gone tromping into the room like two men storming into a strange bar looking to pick a fight with the first man who said boo. They stood there for a moment, surveying the scene as the assembled group surveyed them. It reminded Bannon of a scene from a B-grade western. He looked at Uleski, who appeared to be thinking the same thing, and almost began to laugh.

It was Major Jordan who first came up and greeted them with a sincere smile and a handshake, as if they were longlost cousins. The battalion commander and the other company commanders followed. Only the C company commander hung back. Bannon imagined it was from embarrassment. When the greetings were over, Colonel Reynolds took him to the front of the group and sat him on the seat next to his, displacing the C company commander. This move shocked Bannon since Captain Cravin, commander of C company, had always been Colonel Reynolds's fair-haired boy. Whatever Cravin did was good and right. Major Jordan, who didn't think much of Cravin or his company, smiled at the sight of the colonel's fair-haired boy being taken down a notch. As the meeting continued, Reynolds would stop, turn to Bannon, and ask what Team Yankee needed from the battalion motor officer, the S-4, the S-1, and so on. It quickly became apparent that the colonel was prepared to give Team Yankee first choice on whatever was available. Given the opportunity, Bannon grabbed it and ran. When the S-1 wanted to know about personnel needs, Bannon told him that the Team needed eighteen infantrymen to replace Polgar's losses. The S-1 stated that it would not be possible to replace them now. Bannon turned to the battalion commander and told him that since C and D companies were still up to strength, if each of their squads gave up one man, Polgar could be brought up to strength. He had meant this as a cheap shot at the two companies. To his surprise, the colonel told the S-1 to see that this was done and to ensure that only the best soldiers went. He then turned to the S-4 and told him that if the S-4 couldn't get another PC for Polgar right away, C company was to turn one over to Team Yankee.

At the end of the meeting Bannon and Uleski briefed the colonel and the S-3 on what had happened after Team Yankee had crossed the line of departure in its attack on Objective LOG and Hill 214. The Colonel and S-3 would stop them and ask questions about certain aspects of the operation, effects of weapons, where the Team's soldiers seemed to be wanting, how the Soviets reacted, and so on. Jordan recommended that the leadership of Team Yankee prepare a briefing for the officers and NCOs of the battalion. In this way, lessons learned could be passed on. The colonel endorsed the idea.

Major Jordan gave Bannon the location where the first sergeant had the rest of Team Yankee, congratulated both him and Uleski on a job well done, and ended the meeting. The colonel also congratulated them and then left with Jordan.

When everyone was gone, Bannon and Uleski sat in the silent room, staring at the floor in front of them. Without looking up, Uleski quietly asked, "Did we really do as well as they said we did?"

Bannon thought for a moment. In the discussion, it had all seemed so easy. It was as if they had been discussing a tactical exercise at Fort Knox, not a battle that had meant life and death for the thirty-five men that had set out to defend Hill 214 yesterday. Their discussion had covered the effects of weapons, the deployment of forces, and the application of firepower. In the cool, quiet setting of the German classroom it all seemed to make sense, to fit together. The dread and fear of dying was missing. The stinging, cutting emotional pain he had felt as the crew of 66 removed Ortelli's shattered body from the burning tank had not been covered. The disgust and anger he had experienced when it seemed that Team Yankee had been wiped out was not important. The battle they had talked about and the one Team Yankee had fought were not the same and never would be. At least not for those who had been there. Bannon turned to Uleski, "What do you think, Bob?"

He stared at Bannon for a moment before answering, "I think we were lucky.

Damned lucky."

"You know, Bob, I think you're right." With that, they left the classroom and went about rebuilding the Team.

For the next three days Team Yankee licked its wounds and pulled itself back together.

Their assembly area was a few kilometers from the battalion CP. First Sergeant Harrert had found and claimed it. Soon after arriving Bannon found out why. In the center there was a small gasthaus where Germans used to stop and eat after taking their long weekend walks through the forest. The old man and woman who ran the place were indifferent to the Team at first but began to become friendly after the first day. By the second day, the old woman was cooking for them and doing their laundry. She said that since she couldn't take care of her son, and since their mothers couldn't take care of them, she would help them. The old man told of his son, a panzer trooper like the men in Team Yankee, and of his own experiences in "the last war."

Replacements came in for men, equipment, ammunition, uniforms, weapons, radios, and a myriad of other things modern war required. The first people they got were the infantrymen stripped from the other companies. While the Team didn't get the best, those they did get were usable. When these men came in, Polgar gathered them up and gave them the law according to Polgar. One of the first rules he had established was that they never forget they now belonged to Team Yankee. That struck Bannon as strange at first. In the past, the assignment of a Mech Platoon to the tank company was equated to exile to Siberia. Now it was a matter of pride. In fact, most of the infantry replacements had volunteered to be assigned to the Team. As one of the new men told him, if he had to be in this war, he wanted to be with people who knew how to fight. The Team was not as fortunate in the replacements they received for the tank crews. Most of them came straight from the advanced individual training course at Fort Knox. Some had never even been in a tank when a round was fired. It seemed that if they could recognize a tank two out of three times, they were shipped. So the Team's number-one priority became training the new men and integrating them into the crews and squads as quickly as possible.

One of the most interesting transitions that had occurred in the Team had taken place in Pfc.

Richard Kelp. Before the war he had always been an average soldier, nothing more, nothing less. Since the Team had come off Hill 214, however, he had become a man with a purpose. When they picked up a replacement tank from war stocks, Kelp was the first man on it. Instead of Folk having to keep on Kelp to work, Folk now found it difficult to keep up with him. With the new 66 came a new man. As it is easier to train a loader, Kelp was reassigned as the driver and given the mission of training Pvt. Leo Dowd as the loader.

After conducting several hours of crew drills on the second day, Bannon asked Dowd how things were going for him. He reluctantly answered that he thought that Kelp was being too hard on him. Bannon put on his official company commander's face and told him that Kelp was doing just fine. He added that if Dowd listened to Kelp and did just as Kelp told him, maybe he would make it out of this war alive. After that there were no more complaints.

Along with his new direction in life, Kelp received official recognition for his efforts in the defense of Hill 214. After questioning both of the privates who had come back from the tank-killing detail that night, Polgar put them in for Silver Stars. As the Dragon gunner who had been killed had led the group for awhile and had taken out the first tank, Bannon added him for a posthumous award. By the time the citations made it to division level, the efforts of the three men took on epic proportions. The story was turned slightly. The killing of the two tanks became the critical event for the battle of Hill 214 that caused the whole Soviet battalion to withdraw. In reality, things weren't that clearcut, but Bannon went along with it since it expedited the awards.

One change that had taken place that was not to Bannonfs liking was the outlook on life that Bob Uleski had adopted. His arm had been dislocated during the initial attack on Hill 214.

The battalion physician's assistant at the 1st of the 4th Armor's aid station had popped it back into place while the cut on Bannon's face was being cleaned and dressed. They wanted to have Uleski evacuated for a few days to convalesce. But he refused. As the Team was short of officers, Bannon allowed him to stay on as long as he could perform his duties. Despite obvious pain, he performed. For the most part, he slipped back to his good-natured self. But when it came to training, he was a different man. His personality changed to that of a cold and emotionless being, unable to tolerate the slightest error or any action that was not up to standard. When drilling his crew, he would turn on them with a vengeance if their times were not to his liking. When Bannon approached him on it, he simply shrugged it off as nerves. But there was more to it. Bannon wouldn't ask to replace him simply because he had changed. Everyone had changed. In his case, however, it was not a change for the better. So Bannon watched him closely.

One of the jobs that Bannon had dreaded most began the first night in the assembly area.

After the Team had stood down for the night, and only those personnel required for minimal security were posted, he sat alone at a table in the gasthaus. In the quiet of the night, with, no noise but the hiss of the coleman lantern, he began to write letters to the families of those who had died. "Dear Mrs. McAlister, I was your son's company commander. You have been informed, I am sure, by this time, of the death of your son, John.

While this is small consolation for the grief that you must feel, I want you to know that your son died performing his duties in a manner befitting the fine officer he was. His absence…"

"Dear Mrs. Ortelli, As you know, I was your husband's company commander and tank commander. You have been informed, I am sure, by this time, of Joseph's death. While this is…" "Dear Mr. and Mrs. Lorriet, I was…"

As he wrote the letters, the images of those who had been lost came back. In his mind's eye he could see 21 hanging on the edge of the ditch, burning and shaking from internal explosions; Ortelli, wrapped in his sleeping bag; Lorriet's eyes that stared and saw nothing; the severed arm belonging to a soldier Bannon didn't even know. Those images were perfectly clear to him. To the responsibility of running the Team, he now added the haunting and frightful baggage of remembering those who had been entrusted to his care and had died. In all his readings, in all the classes he had attended, nothing had prepared him for this. Each commander was left to deal with the images of the dead in his own way. "Dear Mr. and Mrs… '

On the afternoon of the second day the first sergeant brought 2nd Lt. Randall Avery to the Team's assembly area. Avery had been assigned to take over the 2nd Platoon. As he was hauling his gear out of the first sergeant's vehicle, he noticed Garger going through a sand table exercise with his tank commanders. As the two lieutenants had both been in the same officer basic course at Fort Knox, Avery was thrilled to see the face of an old drinking buddy in this sea of strangers. He called to Garger. But instead of coming over and giving him a hearty greeting and hello, Garger merely acknowledged the new lieutenant's presence with a nod and continued to work with the 3rd Platoon's leaders. Avery could not understand the cold reception. The reception he got from Bannon was even colder.

Bannon and Uleski were sitting at a table on the terrace in front of the gasthaus going over the next day's schedule of training and maintenance when the first sergeant brought Avery over. "Captain Bannon, this is Lieutenant Avery. He's straight out of Knox and has been assigned to take over the 2nd Platoon."

With that introduction, Avery came to attention, saluted, and reported. "Sir, Second Lieutenant Avery reporting for duty."

Bannon and Uleski looked at each other, and then looked at the first sergeant. With a nod, Bannon acknowledged the lieutenant's salute. For a moment Avery stood there, not sure what to do. "At ease, Lieutenant. We don't do much saluting in the company area. Where are you coming from?" "I came over from Fort Knox, where I was attending the motor officers' course after AOB. I was in the same class as Gerry, I mean Lieutenant Garger. We were good friends there, sir."

Again Bannon and Uleski exchanged glances. "That's nice. What college did you graduate from?" "Texas A and M, sir."

Uleski couldn't resist. He let out three loud whoops. Neither First Sergeant Harrert nor Bannon could keep from breaking out in laughter. Avery stood there at a loss. He didn't appreciate being the butt of the XO's joke. Neither was he in a position to do anything about it. He was totally unprepared for this kind of reception.

Seeing the lieutenant's discomfort, Bannon put his official company commander's face back on. "You are going to the 2nd Platoon. The man you are replacing was a damned good lieutenant who was killed three days ago. I hope you have better luck. Your platoon sergeant is Sergeant First Class Hebrock. He's been running the platoon since Lieutenant McAlister was killed. Your only hope of surviving is to listen to what that man has to say. I don't know how much time we have before we move out again. You have a lot to learn and not much time, so don't waste any. Is that clear?" Taken aback by this cheerless how-do-you-do, Avery simply replied, "Yes, sir," and waited for the next shock.

"Bob, we'll finish this up later during the evening meal. I want you to take the lieutenant down to 2nd Platoon and turn him over to Sergeant Hebrock. Then you best get down to battalion CP and check on the replacement for our FIST track. I damned sure don't want to let battalion let that one slip. " "OK. You need anything else from battalion while I'm there?"

"Just the usual; mail, if there is such a thing."

With that, Uleski got up, gathered up his notebook and map and took off at a fast pace.

"Come on, Avery, this way. "

Avery glanced at the XO, turned back to Bannon, gave him a quick salute, then gathered up his gear and took off at a trot to catch up to Uleski who was already thirty meters away.

Somehow, Avery had expected something different. His mind was already racing in an effort to figure out what was going to happen next.

It wasn't until the evening meal that Avery had a chance to talk to Gerry Garger. The whole afternoon had been one rude shock after another. The greeting from the Team commander had been warm compared to that received from the platoon. Although Randy Avery was no fool and knew not to expect open arms and warm smiles, he had at least expected a handshake. What he got instead was a reception that ranged from indifferent to almost hostile. Hebrock had been proper but short, following the same line that the Team commander had taken, "We have a lot to do and not much time, so you need to pay attention, sir. " The sir had been added almost as an afterthought. Hebrock then continued with the training under way.

Sergeant Tessman, the gunner on 21, was less than happy to see the new TC and made little effort to hide it. Even the tank was not what he had expected. Unlike the new 66, which was out of war stocks, the new 21 had belonged to another unit, had been damaged and then repaired, and reissued. Inside the turret there were still burn marks and blackened areas. The welds to repair the damage had been done quickly and crudely and had not been painted. Tessman made a special effort to show his new TC the stains where the former TC had bled all over the tank commander's seat.

Even his good friend, Gerry Garger, appeared to be standoffish. At least Gerry acknowledged him with a hello and a handshake while waiting to eat. But Gerry didn't seem interested in talking while they ate. When asked about the war so far, Garger would give simple, short answers, such as, "It's hard" or "It's not like our training at Knox." By the end of the day, Randall Avery was feeling alone and very confused.

Uleski returned with something that was almost as valuable as news that the war was over: the first letters from families in the States. The announcement that there was news from home stopped everything. Even Bannon could not hide his hopes and apprehensions. Hope that he had a letter, just one letter. Apprehension that it was not there. There was no thought of setting the example of the cool, calm, patient commander. This was too important.

When Uleski handed him his letter, he thanked God, the Postmaster General, the Division Postal Detachment, and anyone he could think of as he turned away and walked to a quiet spot. Bannon did not notice those who still stood there in silence when all the letters had been distributed. Pat and the children were safe and staying with her parents. He read that line four times before he went on. It was as if nothing else mattered. His family was safe.

After having experienced emotional highs and lows in quick succession over the past six days, the elation he felt over this news set an all-time high. Not even the ending of the war right now could have boosted him any higher. It was because of that elation that Bannon did not detect the subtle implications in Pat's language until he had read the letter for the sixth time the next day. In reading it more carefully, what she didn't tell him spoke louder than what she had written. Not all was well with her or the children. This realization dulled his joy and caused new apprehensions. Even though they were safe, something terrible had happened.

It would be weeks before Pat was able to bring herself to fully recount the story of their departure from Europe. In that time, the war rolled on, taking new and ominous turns, as wars have a tendency to do.