Team Yankee: A Novel of World War III (Revised & Expanded Edition)

CHAPTER 6 ON THE RAZOR’S EDGE

“Lay off the accelerator, Ortelli. We aren’t going anywhere and you’re only making it worse.”

Kelp and Folk turned and stared at Bannon wide-eyed and fearful. The expression on Ortelli’s face, no doubt, was no different. All were waiting for his next brilliant idea.

“Why me?” he 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 magically come up with the right answer. Maybe there was no right answer this time.

Then again, maybe there was, another part of Bannon’s brain chimed.

“Okay, right,” Bannon muttered, more to himself than his crew. “Listen up. I’m going to go out and see how bad off we are. Kelp, cover me with your machinegun. Sergeant Folk, be ready to give me a hand if I need you or provide suppressive fire if we’re shot at. Clear?” Both nodded their heads in unison.

With that, Bannon turned, opened the TC’s hatch all the way, and stuck his head out to check the situation. Alpha 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 grumbled.

Ducking back down, he turned to Kelp and asked if he were ready. The loader’s eyes were as big as hen’s eggs and his face drawn in fear. But he was standing ready to leap into position when Bannon gave the word. With no reason to delay any further, and after unplugging his CVC cord, Bannon took a deep breath. “Alright, let’s go.”

With that, he jumped out of the TC’s hatch, rolled down the side of the turret, and dropped to the ground. The drop turned out to be more than he had anticipated. With a thud, he landed hard on his side, knocking the wind out of him. As he lay there struggling to get his breath back, he looked around. The neat German forest they had rolled through was now ripped and pockmarked by the artillery fire. Shattered branches and uprooted trees were everywhere. And the artillery wasn’t finished yet, as rounds continued to impact here and there all around 66. Every now and then a loud zing or a sharp ping would cause Bannon to hunch over as a shell fragment from a near miss flew by him or ricocheting off the tank. Having no wish to stay out in the open longer than he needed to, Bannon got 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 thought as he crawled along, keeping as close to the tank as he could for safety. Looking between the road wheels, he could see the other track was also on. When he reached the rear of the tank, he found mounds of loose dirt the tracks had been throwing up to their rear. It was clear to him both tracks had been spinning free without gaining any traction.

It wasn’t until he crawled around to the rear of the tank and looked under the hull that he saw what had stopped them. 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 between it and 66 and pull 66 off. But all the remaining tanks had continued onto Objective LINK.

They could sit and wait for help to come along, Bannon reasoned. Eventually, if the rest of the battalion came up, a tank in Team Bravo or an M-88 recovery vehicle could pull 66 off. But it seemed just as likely that the Russians who had survived being overrun by his Team would show up first. Odds were, he reasoned, they would be in a foul mood after being overrun.

That aside, Bannon knew sitting about, waiting there with his thumb up his ass was a non-starter. He was, after all, 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. Besides, simply sitting there and waiting to see what happened next was not his style. A solution had to be found.

Shoveling dirt under the tracks would do no good. The tracks would simply pile it up onto the mounds they had already thrown up. It was too late to back out. Ortelli had hit the tree at a dead run 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 even if they found something they could haul before Ivan happened along.

With a sigh, Bannon did his best 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 muttered to himself. That thought, and the instructor’s admonishment that someday what he was telling them could one day save their lives came back to him as if the man was standing there behind him. Well, it seemed as if today was that day.

There was something they could do, but at the moment, Bannon wasn’t sure if he remembered it all. “What the hell, maybe it’ll come back as we go along.”

With that thought in mind, he climbed back up on the tank, staying as low and as near to the turret as possible. “Sergeant Folk, get out here and give me a hand.”

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. He then ordered Folk help him take the tow cables off the side of the turret where they were stowed. 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. 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.

After listening to his commander’s plan, Folk nodded. “What the hell, it’s worth a shot. Let’s go.”

With that, 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. When they were ready, he told Folk to get back in 66 and have Ortelli crank up the tank and begin to slowly move forward.

Remaining outside and a safe distance from the tank, Bannon signaled to Folk, who had Ortelli put the tank in low gear and slowly apply power. As he had hoped, the cables were dragged under and caught on the stump. When he felt them snag the tree stump, Ortelli slowly applied more power, taking the slack in the cables out until they became taut. For a moment the tracks stopped and the engine began to strain. After praying the hooks would stand the strain and not snap, Bannon signaled Folk, who ordered Ortelli to continue.

Ever so slowly, Ortelli applied more power. Grudgingly, 66 began to inch forward, moaning and screeching as the hull scraped across the stump. The cables held as 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 with a thud, allowing the tracks to bit into the ground, gain traction, and move the tank forward on its own.

When he was satisfied they were home free, Bannon signaled to Folk to have Ortelli stop. He then crawled to the rear, disconnected the cables from around the tracks, and climbed back on without bothering to recover the hooks or cables. With luck, someone could come back and get them later. At the moment, Bannon had far more important things to do, including getting out from under the Soviet artillery.

It was only as he was climbing back into the commander’s cupola that Bannon noticed 66 had lost its antennas. Both had been sheared off at the base. That, he realized, 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. Apparently they had thought he wanted them to keep going all the way to Hill 214. When they couldn’t contact him, Uleski simply took command of what was left of the company and carried on with the last order he had received, leaving Bannon to wonder how much that misunderstanding had cost the Team as 66 left Objective LOG and made for Hill 214. Clausewitz called it the friction of war. Some called it Murphy’s law. Bannon found the thought of losing what was left of the Team to a simple misunderstanding was devastating. Sixteen men and four tanks lost all because of a damned antenna was broken.

Once in the open and out from under the Soviet artillery, 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 what was left of the Team.

Bannon was fast becoming tired of making these kind of decisions. They were too expensive in terms of men and equipment. Just what would go first, he found himself wondering, the Team or his nerve.

This unwelcomed thought was interrupted by the sight of three Soviet T-62 tanks off to his right. All were moving north and on an intersecting course with 66, causing Bannon to guess they had been headed to hit the tanks on Hill 214 in the rear before they had spotted 66. Grabbing the TC’s override, he jerked it over as far as he could, swinging the turret toward this new threat.

“GUNNER, SABOT, 3 TANKS!”

Kelp dropped down and yelled, “HEAT LOADED, UP!”

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 have to do. There was no time to switch ammunition.

“IDENTIFIED!” Folk yelled, letting Bannon know he 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!” With that, Folk fired.

As if it was all one action, the main gun recoiled, causing the tank to shudder and buck. 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 as 66 lurched to the right and staggered to a stop. It had been hit.

“What happened? Why are we stopping?” Kelp yelled in panic. He was preparing to go out through the loader’s hatch when Bannon felt Folk grab at his leg to get by him and out. Over the intercom, Ortelli was screaming.

“Shut up! Everyone, shut up and stay where you are. Crew report.”

“We’re on fire! Get out!” Folk kept trying to get past.

With no other choice, Bannon raised his leg, put his foot on Folk’s shoulder, and began to push him down. “GET BACK IN YOUR SEAT AND PREPARE TO ENGAGE.”

For the briefest of moments, Folk stared up at him with an expression that betrayed his shock at being kept from fleeing before settling back into position.

“KELP. IS THE GUN UP?” Bannon bellowed as he looked over at the dumb-founded loader. “LOADER, LOAD SABOT, NOW!”

Though he was still stunned, Kelp turned to grab 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 his driver had been wounded. Nor could he afford to waste even a second finding out, not with enemy tanks bearing down on them. Popping his head back out, he scanned to his right in an effort to see how close the T-62s were.

There was thick column of black smoke coming from the engine compartment, blanketing 66 like a shroud. The fire extinguishers in the engine compartment had failed to put out the fire. Across the open field to his right one of the T-62s was burning and shuddering as secondary explosions rocked the derelict tank. The other two had just begun to move out again for Hill 214. Though they kept their gun tubes pointed at 66, they were not firing. Apparently, Bannon concluded, 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 the lead tank. 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 with his back 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.” With nothing more to do, Bannon watched the two T-62s through his extension. The range readout digits on the bottom of the sight changed. Folk had ranged and gotten a good range return. 950 meters. The ready-to-fire indicator was also on. Putting his finger on the smoke grenade launcher, Bannon waited for Folk 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 them first.”

This time Kelp did not need to be told to respond when he was ready. “UP.”

“STAND BY TO ENGAGE.”

The fire in the engine compartment was growing. The black smoke mixed with the white smoke from the grenades. Over the intercom the sound of Ortelli’s moaning was growing weaker. Within the turret there the smell of cordite from the spent shell casing, diesel from a ruptured fuel cell, acrid smoke coming from the engine fire, and the odor of sweat from the crew lingered 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. 66’s round, on the other hand, found its mark and with telling effect. The flash of impact was followed in rapid succession by a sheet of flame that rose up out of the T-62’s commander hatch, then a series of secondary explosions that ripped off its turret, flinging the fifteen tons of steel high in the air as if it was cardboard.

Bannon watched in fascination as the turret slammed on to the ground and flopped over upside down. A quick scan of the area revealed that the second T-62 Alpha 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, a spattering 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 Alpha 66.

Sometime during the engagement, Ortelli had stopped moaning. In order to check on him, Folk needed to traverse the turret until the rear of the turret was aligned with the driver’s compartment. When Bannon dropped down from his TC’s perch and stuck his head through the through the opening, he found Ortelli’s crumpled body slumped over to one side, covered in diesel and blood. Reaching in, Bannon took hold of Ortelli’s shoulder and held him so Kelp could lower the driver’s seat back. When it was down, Bannon ease the body back onto it.

Ortelli’s wounds were horrific. 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. Without needing to check for a pause, Bannon knew Ortelli was dead.

His first thought, to leave the body and abandon the tank, was discarded almost as quickly as it had come to the fore. Ortelli deserved better than that. He had been a good soldier and a loyal crewman. To leave his body in the tank and give it up to the fire that would soon engulf 66 was unthinkable. 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.

Bannon looked up at Kelp and Folk. “Let’s get him out of here.”

Working in silence, Kelp and Bannon dragged Ortelli’s body out of the driver’s compartment and propped it up. Folk, who had climbed out of the turret, knelt on the turret roof, reached down through the loader’s hatch, and took Ortelli under the arms. As he pulled the driver’s still body up, Bannon and Kelp each grabbed a leg and lifted. Before leaving the turret himself, Kelp grabbed his submachine gun and the ammo pouch. Bannon stayed behind to prepare 66 for destruction.

Though the engine compartment fire would probably finish off 66, he wanted to do everything he could to keep his tank from being displayed in Red Square as a trophy. To that end he opened the ammo ready door and locked it open. He then pulled one round out and put it halfway in the main gun’s chamber as well as several more rounds on the turret floor. After turning the radio frequency knobs off of the Team’s frequency, he took his CEOI, one 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 stuffed two frag grenades and one thermite grenade in his pocket and climbed out.

Once outside, Bannon threw his CVC down into the turret, pulled on his web gear, helmet, and binoculars and grabbed his map case. Turning to Folk and Kelp, he ordered them to head for the woods to their right. Once they were on the way, he took the thermite grenade, pulled the pin let the grenade’s arming spoon flip up, and dropped it in the loader’s hatch among the shells on the floor. Having done all he could think of, he leaped down off the right side of the tank.

To his surprise, Bannon landed next to Ortelli. While he had been inside, Folk and Kelp had put Ortelli into a sleeping bag and laid it a few feet away from the tank. One of them had tied a tag with Ortelli’s name and social security number to the zipper. They had also taken the time to place his head so that the damaged side of his face was not exposed. Except for the tag, the driver looked as if he were asleep. It seemed, Bannon told himself, Folk and Kelp had felt the same way he did about their friend. Just as they had cared and looked out for each other in life, they had done so in death.

These reflections were cut short when he heard the termite grenade pop. Having no wish to be anywhere near 66 when the on main gun rounds started going off, Bannon took off to catch up with the rest of the crew. Ortelli and Alpha 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 as well. The tank was fully involved now, burning from front to rear and quivering as HE rounds cooked off and detonated. Off to the left the T-62s were also burning. That’s when it struck him. 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 twelve 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, the sort you can’t seem to wake up from even though you want to. Turning away from the devastation, he lay on his back, closed his eyes, and let 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. What he really needed was a few minutes alone to get himself together.

In the stillness that followed, Bannon listened to sounds of battle to the north drifting down from Hill 214. He 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 M-16s firing was answered by rifle reports that were not familiar to his ears. Probably Soviet AKs, he imagined. It was the high-pitched whine of two personnel carriers approaching that finally got him to move.

Rolling over onto his stomach, he propped himself up on his elbows in time to catch sight of a pair of M-113s coming up along the same route 66 had taken. As they approached 66 from behind, they slowed down and passed it, one on each side, the TC in each track scanned the area. They turned toward the wood line and headed to where Bannon, Folk, and Kelp were. Bannon knew they hadn’t seen them. All they were probable interested in was getting out of the open, using the tree line for cover. At least, Bannon mused, he and the rest of his crew would be able to ride up to Hill 214.

Without thinking, Bannon began to rise up on his knees. Just as he was about to wave down the PCs, the closest PC cut loose with a burst of machinegun fire. His wild volley ripped through the trees above him, showering Bannon with splinters and pieces of bark. As he dropped back down Folk let out a stream of obscenities while Kelp covered his head, curled up into a ball, and started to howl. “JESUS CHRIST! THE 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. When the shooting stopped, he ever so carefully raised his head, looking out to see both tracks side by side headed for him, guns aimed and ready. Once more raising his arm, he continued to wave as he slowly rose, ready to go down again if they fired. This time, they didn’t.

Once the commander of the lead PC was satisfied they weren’t Russians, they both picked up speed and continued toward the tree line. Neither TC, however, turned his Cal .50 off Bannon. It seemed no one was taking any chances.

When the lead PC pulled up even with Bannon and stopped, its TC grinned. “Damn, sir, we thought you were dead,” Polgar cried out.

“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 LT. 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.” Pausing, he took a quick glance over his shoulder to where Alpha 66 and the T-62s sat burning, then turned back toward Bannon. “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 the bloody big stone that had been sitting on his heart. There still was a Team Yankee! Right now he didn’t care that it wasn’t much of a team. Nor did it matter that they were in the wrong place. All that was important was that there was at least something left. Despite all the foul-ups of that morning, he hadn’t pissed away the whole Team.

While Folk and Kelp headed for the other PC, Bannon climbed into Polgar’s track and stood up in the open cargo hatch behind the TC. Once everyone was loaded, they headed for Hill 214, hugging the tree line until they were just across from the woods of Hill 214. From there they dashed across the open area and up onto the eastern slope of Hill 214. After wandering cautiously through the forest, they came up to the four remaining tanks of the Team.

The four tanks with Bob Uleski were deployed along the tree line overlooking Arnsdorf, ready to support Delta Company’s attack. As Polgar’s PCs were coming to a halt about fifty meters to the rear of the tanks, Bannon caught sight of Uleski as he was dismounting from the tank in the center. Even at that distance, he could see his XO was injured. Eager to find out what was going on, Bannon clambered out of Polgar’s PC and hustled over toward Uleski.

With his right arm in a sling and splint, Uleski made a show of saluting Bannon with his left hand. “Anyone else coming, sir?”

Bannon replied with nothing more than a shake of his head. “From the Team, no. As far as the battalion, I haven’t a clue. Do you know where they are and what they’re up to?”

Like Bannon, Uleski simply shook his head. “Battalion frequency is being jammed. I’ve been trying to work through it, but so far, nothing on it or the battalions alternate command frequency.”

Bannon and Uleski then 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 anyone’s knowledge, battalion has no idea where we are and what we’re doing,” Bannon grunted.

Uleski dropped his gaze as he slowly nodded. “Looks that way, sir.”

As important as it was to report to battalion that some of the Team had made it to Hill 214, as well as find out what the other companies were doing, Bannon’s first priority was getting an update on what kind of condition the tanks on Hill 214 were in and what the enemy situation was. Retreating to Polgar’s PC, the three of them sat down on its rear ramp once it had been dropped and the squad the PC had been carrying had deployed to the right of the tanks.

Despite the pain his arm was giving him Uleski, described how the four tanks with him had continued onto Hill 214 as Bannon had ordered. “It wasn’t until we’d cleared the woods on LOG and were out from under the artillery fire that I noticed you weren’t with us,” Uleski explained. “When all my attempts to contact you failed, I had the remaining tanks close up, ordered the Mech Platoon, to follow up when they could, and pushed on. We reached Hill 214 without further contact and began to sweep through the Objective. As the tanks crested the hill, we ran right into the middle of a Soviet artillery battery of towed guns preparing to move.” At this point, the hint of a grin began to tug at the corner of Uleski’s lips. “You should have seen the faces of the Russian gunners as we were sweeping through their position, sir. It made my day.”

For the briefest of moments, Uleski paused as his eyes took on a distant, almost contemplative appearance as if he was mentally replaying the scenes he’d beheld as the tanks with him overran the Soviet battery. Then, as quickly as it had come, the look was gone as he turned his full attention back to the matter at hand.

“We destroyed the guns, their prime movers and cut down anyone who wasn’t quick enough to get away. Not many did,” he added in a gleeful manner that sent a chill down Bannon’s spine. That his XO took pride in what they had done to the Russian gunners came as no surprise to him. After watching so many of the vehicles in Team Yankee get hit, he and the tankers with him were out for blood, ready to engage in an all-out a killing frenzy, one Uleski seemed to have relished.

“We literally ran down and over every Russian that got in our way. Everyone was firing whatever weapon he could bring to bear as we hunted the Soviet gunners down, sometimes one at a time. Four of the little shits made it to a house on the edge of Arnsdorf. The last man in closed the door as if that would keep the tank that was pursuing them out. It didn’t. The tank just drove up to the house, rammed its main gun through the door, and fired a HEAT round. When the house burst into flames, the tank backed up a few meters and waited. When two Russians came out, the tank cut them down.”

Throughout this story, Uleski’s face betrayed neither revulsion nor regret. His eyes, set in a steady gaze, cut through Bannon like fingernails being scraped across a chalkboard. Three days of war had done much to harden Bob Uleski. As Bannon watched his XO’s face and listened to his story in silence, he could not help but wonder just how much he had changed.

Uleski paused for a moment after finishing his report on the action against the battery, using the silence that followed to mentally set that incident aside before moving on to filling Bannon in on the Team’s current status. “After the tanks were finished with the Russian battery, we withdrew up the hill and occupied the positions they’re currently in. There were several minor wounds that had required tending, but nothing critical. Ammo has been counted and is being redistributed as we speak. Main gun rounds are the big problem. Each of the tanks here is down to ten rounds of SABOT and six rounds of HEAT. If and when the Soviets got serious about counterattacking, I fear we’re going to run out.”

“Personnel?” Bannon asked crisply.

“Not much better,” Uleski shot back without hesitation. “Unless you know something I don’t, the dead and missing include Unger and his entire FIST team, Sergeant Pierson and the 34 tank, and Lieutenant Harding who was wounded as he was rolling through on LOG. That leaves me with the Alpha 55, Garger with 31, Sergeant First Class Hebrock with 24 and Staff Sergeant Rhoads with 22.”

Tuning to Polgar, Bannon cocked a brow. “What about you? What kind of shape is you platoon in?”

Easing back, Polgar sighed. “Well, there’s the 23 track with Staff Sergeant Flurer and 2nd Squad and my own track with Staff Sergeant Jefferson and the 3rd Squad. All told, I’ve seventeen men, two tracks, and two Dragon trackers with three missiles for each.”

It didn’t take long for Bannon to do the math. Team Yankee was now down to four tanks, two PCs, two Dragons, and thirty-five men. Even worse, he had no idea where anyone else in the battalion was or what the battalion was doing. For all he knew, 3rd of the 78th Infantry no longer existed. And even if it did, it was in no position to help him. He and the rump of Team Yankee were on their own.

The one bright spot Bannon could latch onto was that the enemy had 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 before they did. The presence of Team Yankee on Hill 214 or in the area had to be known. Why else would the three tanks Alpha 66 had encountered have been pulled out of their positions and sent backpedaling in the middle of a battle?

Also on the plus side was Bannon’s doubt that the Soviets knew how much, or how little, was on 214. If the Russians stayed true to form, before they did anything they would send in a small recon element to locate the Team to ascertain their size, composition and, if possible, pin them. Once they had done that, the Soviets would strike and strike hard.

While Uleski and Polgar were gathering up all the track commanders, Bannon weighed his options. They could withdraw. As there had been no contact with battalion since the attack had begun, and there was little prospect of making contact anytime soon, withdrawal would be acceptable. Because of its losses, Team Yankee was no longer able to perform a Team-sized mission. Added to that, ammunition was becoming critically low. Finally, he had no idea when, or even if, battalion would link up. Although Polgar had informed him that LOG had been cleared, only Harding and a few wounded had been left to hold that hill while they waited for Team Bravo to move up. If the Soviets wanted to, they’d be able to reoccupy it with ease. All in all, Bannon concluded, remaining on Hill 214, knowing full well that the Soviets would be back, made no sense.

But neither did withdrawing. While there was almost no hope of holding Hill 214 against a determined counterattack given the Team’s current strength, there was no guarantee that the Russians would, or could, counterattack in strength. There was always the possibility that they were in just as bad shape as the Team was and didn’t have the wherewithal on hand to launch a counterattack. The fact that the Russians had been forced to throw three T-62s that had been in reserve unit or part of the security screen to sort out their rear area seemed to buttress this possibility. To withdraw his Team only learn later that there had been no threat would ensure the losses they’d suffer taking Hill 214 would have been in vain.

Finally, Bannon could not discount the possibility that the rest of the battalion would finally get its act together and continue with the mission. It would be humiliating to be in the process of withdrawing against an imagined foe only to 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 at the moment. It was just that such a possibility was as likely as any of the others he could come up with. 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. Only now did Bannon begin to appreciate the old saying that once soldiers had paid for a piece of ground with the blood of their comrades, the value of that land transcended what cold logic would otherwise calculate was true. For Team Yankee, the ground they were standing on was now the most important piece of real estate in Germany, a hill they would hold, consequences be damned.

With that, Bannon turned his full attention to how they would hold Hill 214. With four tanks, two squads of infantry, and two PCs, the Team could hold four to five hundred meters of front. Unfortunately, the Team was on its own. Somehow, the Team needed to secure its flanks and rear, not just its front. The Soviets might try a frontal attack once, but Bannon doubted 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.

“Well Bannon,” he muttered to himself as he walked out into the middle of the small laager the Team was currently occupying, “Let’s see how you’re gonna go about skinning this cat.”

While Sean Bannon was doing all he could to see to it that Team Yankee was as ready for whatever came its way, Lt. Col. Yuri Potecknov was preparing to execute his new mission in the exact, scientific manner that he had been taught at the Frunze Military Academy 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’s orders were to wipe out the enemy force and restore the security screen.

While he was unhappy that his motorized rifle battalion was being diverted from the main effort of the army, Potecknov rationalized that it was for the better. His troops were still untried by battle. So far all they’d done since the commencement of hostilities was follow the division’s lead, waiting for 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. A cheap victory would not only instill confidence in the officers and men of his battalion, it would provide him with an opportunity to see how well those 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, what he expected the enemy would do, and how they were going to hold Hill 214. They didn’t have 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 come up with, for it violated just about every tactical principle in the book. 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, which would allow them to parry an attack from Arnsdorf. They also needed to be ready to occupy two other positions in case the Soviets attacked elsewhere. 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 those woods as a staging area before rushing across the open area and onto Hill 214. The second position was on the crest of Hill 214 facing south. The Soviet’s might decide to seal off the Team’s routes of escape, 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 coming through the woods from the north, provided the Soviet commander making that attack 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 covering the southern portion of the hill. 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, that OP and one manned by the tanks 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, in Bannon’s mind, the greatest threat. Polgar had a total of thirteen men to cover that area. This number included Folk and Kelp, for there were no vacant slots due to casualties on the tanks they needed to fill. 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 Polgar’s people were. In all likelihood, however, a commander conducting a night attack through unfamiliar woods would stick to or near the trail, if for no other reason than to maintain orientation. If that happened, Polgar was ready and waiting with one of their Dragons, two M60 machineguns, two grenade launchers, and his riflemen. To provide an additional edge, antitank and antipersonnel mines, as well as field expedient booby traps using grenades, were deployed to the front and flanks of the infantry positions.

Command and control of the Team would be simple. First, there wasn’t that much to command or control. Second, all radios were put on the company net. Bannon took over Alpha 55, 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. An OP sent out to the front of the tanks and manned by two crewmen who had a sound-powered phone running back to 55 would be able to pass information straight back to Bannon. 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 had become so common that unless an effort was made, no one noticed it anymore. That didn’t mean anyone was becoming lax or blasé. 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, Bannon had had no more than two hours of sleep total.

While it was noticeable on everyone, this lack of sleep had its most telling effect on him and his leaders. Because of this, Bannon found he often had to repeat his orders to them two or three times. When the orders were being issued for the defense of Hill 214, one of the tank commanders had actually fallen asleep. Uleski wasn’t in much better shape. As he was telling the men who would be with him what they needed to do preparations, he stopped in mid-sentence, unable to remember what he had 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. It didn’t take long for Bannon to realize the Team could not go on like this for much longer. Unless something changed real soon, by tomorrow, he reasoned, 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 resolve, 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 stretch those who were with him on Hill 214 beyond their physical capability. He could only ask so much of the men.

It was during the last hour of daylight that the Russians came.

It began when a column of four T-72s and eight BTR-60PBs rolled down the road into Arnsdorf from the northwest as if Team Yankee were a thousand miles away. Garger, Hebrock, and Bannon crawled out to the OP manned by the tankers to watch this column as it entered the town. Both its size and its behavior told Bannon they were from a different regiment, possibly even a different division than the Soviet units the Team had overrun that morning. The theory that the Russians had shoved everything forward and had left their flanks flapping in the breeze seemed to be spot on. Their coming from the northwest pointed to the fact that they were either part of the operational reserve, or the Russians were having to strip detachments from front line units in order to secure their rear areas. If the latter were true, then Team Yankee’s attack had achieved some measure of success in that it was causing the Soviets to divert forces from their attack to the west.

As they continued to watch the motorized rifle company and tanks move into Arnsdorf, Bannon asked if anyone knew how many men a BTR-60 could carry. Without hesitating, Garger informed him that it could carry twelve passengers and a crew of two. For a moment Bannon lowered his binoculars and looked over 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 came across as complete zeros in peacetime but turned into tigers in war. That Garger seemed to be one of them made him glad circumstances had prevented his replacing him.

Not long after entering Arnsdorf, all vehicles in the Soviet column cut off their engines. In the silence that followed, Bannon could hear Russian officers somewhere in the town shouting orders.

SFC Hebrock broke the silence. “Well sir, what do you think?”

Bannon thought for a moment. “If I were in command down there, I’d wait until dark before trying anything. First, I’d send out some dismounted infantry to conduct a thorough recon of this hill. Only when I had a firm grasp of what I was facing would I launch an all-out attack.”

Hebrock grunted. “Let’s hope the Russian down there who’s doing all the yelling isn’t as smart or as cautious as you are.”

Yeah, Bannon thought to himself as he glanced over toward the west, wondering if the red setting sun was an omen of things to come. Let’s hope he’s not.

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 that had destroyed it. He tried to listen for any telltale signs of activity from the hill, but couldn’t hear a thing due to the noise his own men were making in the town. If there were still Americans on the hill, and if they were watching, which the colonel had no doubt they were, they weren’t showing themselves. “Very well,” he declared as he was turning to his operations officer. “If the Americans won’t show themselves, we will go in and find them. Prepare a patrol.”

As the operations officer scurried off to issue the necessary orders, the colonel went back to studying the hill in the failing light. “A simple exercise,” the battle hardened veteran of the war in Afghanistan muttered to no one in particular. “We shall squeeze this hill like a grape and see what comes out.”

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. Apparently they had heard the sound of vehicles moving through the woods to the southeast.

“Looks like the Soviets intended to hit the Team from both sides at once,” he informed Garger and Hebrock. “Best we head back and get ready for ‘em.”

Bannon used the time it took them to crawl back to the tanks to figure out how the Team was going to deal with this new threat. He had no doubt the Team could easily handle one attack. Two, coming from entirely different directions, was a whole different kettle of fish. There was always the possibility the motorized rifle company and tanks that had put on quite a show while entering Arnsdorf was nothing more than a deception intended to mask the approach of units that would launch the main attack from the east. As there was less open ground to cover from that direction, this 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 informed him he was also sending the two 2nd Platoon tanks over. Uleski was to organize the defense there but was to be prepared to send the tanks back if they were needed. Polgar and his men were to stay put for now, but he was to be prepared to reinforce either Bannon or the XO.

Bannon’s final instructions to the Team reflected the pessimism he could do little to mask. “If it looks like we’re going to be overrun, break contact and make your way back to friendly lines as best you can with as many men as you can.”

After everyone on the net had acknowledged this last message, Bannon went over his plan in his mind one last time. The odds were not good. The other people had at least four tanks in support of two hundred or more infantry. 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.