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

CHAPTER 5 HUNTER AND HUNTED

Twenty-eight minutes from the time Bannon had talked to Captain Lawson, Alpha 55 cranked up. The bridge was opened and ready for Team Yankee. The engineers, however, made sure that the tanks didn’t screw up their work again. An engineer NCO stood at the near end of the bridge, stopping each tank as it approached the ramp where he would hold it until the tank on the bridge got off on the far side of the river. When it was Alpha 66’s turn at the on ramp, Lawson came up to the side of the tank.

“Right on schedule, Lawson,” Bannon shouted down to him. “Your people done good. Give ’em a well-deserved atta boy for me.”

“Will do,” Lawson yelled. “Give the Russians hell.”

With a thumbs up and a grin, 66 rolled onto the bridge as Lawson waved. The military was strange like that. In the middle of the night you run into a major problem that requires you to put your faith in someone you never met before and probably would never see again. But that person knocks himself out to do his job and helps you get on with yours. Lawson and his engineers had done their job and done it well. Now it was Team Yankee’s turn to continue on and be about theirs.

Crossing one at a time was a slow process. Uleski kept the pace down until he was sure the entire Team had cleared the bridge. He then began to pick up speed slowly until he reached, then slightly exceeded, the former march speed. It was now 0330 hours Zulu and the sky in the east was becoming light.

Further back in the column, once the Team had resumed its march, Bannon checked his map and made a few quick calculations. Team Yankee was forty-five minutes behind schedule. According to the battalion’s order, it was supposed to be crossing the line of departure in another thirty minutes. Even if they were to exceed the published road march speed and run flat out in an effort to make up for lost time, Bannon knew there was no way they would hit the LD as 0400. Besides, he reminded himself as he often had to when working with the infantry, the tanks could not travel at their top speed. Besides eating up copious amounts of fuel, something the M-1 tank was very good at, the personnel carriers attached to the Team would not have been able to keep up. Since crossing the LD on time without the infantry or the FIST was a non-starter, he kept the Team together and moving at the speed prescribed in the battalion order.

What concerned Bannon more than being late, however, was the failure of Charlie Company to close up at the bridge. Even as the Team was leaving the bridge site, he couldn’t resist the urge to take one more look back across the river in the gathering light, searching for a glimpse of anyone else in the battalion. But there was no sign of Charlie Company, Delta Company, the battalion CP, or trains. Charlie Company was thirty-five minutes behind schedule for some reason. Perhaps the battalion had been informed of the problem at the bridge and had sent Charlie Company along another route. If that were the case, Charlie Company could very well be in front of Team Yankee. Of course, there was always the possibility Charlie Company was lost or was being held up in a massive traffic jam in one of the small villages. All that Bannon did know for certain was that Team Bravo was in front of Team Yankee. With that as a given, all he could do was to carry on as ordered. Hopefully when they closed up on Team Bravo someone would be there who knew what was going on.

By 0520 Team Yankee was only three kilometers south of Kernsbach at the point where they were to turn off the road and begin to deploy. But rather than make that turn, the tanks to his front began to deploy into another herringbone formation on alternating sides of the road. Twisting about, Bannon signaled the FIST track following 66 to pull off even as he was instructing Ortelli to drive up to the head of the column.

Not surprisingly, Bannon found Major Jordan’s PC sitting on the side of the road next to Alpha 55. To prevent a cluster of parked vehicles, Bannon pulled off on the opposite side of the road. At this point they were only six kilometers from the line of departure that was, unless things had radically changed while they had been on the move, still the forward edge of the battlefield.

Bannon found Jordan standing next to Uleski, looking unhappy and impatient to be on his way. The S-3 began talking while Bannon was still making his way across the road toward him. “There has been a change in plans. You’re to pull your Team into an assembly area over there in the forest and await the word to move into the attack,” he called out while motioning to the northeast where a road coming out of Kernsbach disappeared into a forest between two hills. “The battalion column became separated last night. I’m going on back along the line of march and see if I can find the rest of our people.”

“Any idea how long it’s going to be before we move into the attack?” Bannon asked, not at all sure if he really wanted the answer.

“Before anyone goes forward, we need to get this jug fuck unscrewed. For now, the attack is on hold. Any other questions?”

“Yeah, who’s here and where are they?”

“Team Bravo is exactly where it’s supposed to be. Team Charlie, Task Force 2nd of the 93rd Mech is in the tree line just west of Kernsbach. The Scout Platoon from 2nd of the 93rd is in that wood lot just to the north. If you need to, contact them by radio. I gotta be rolling. Good luck.”

Without waiting for further questions, Major Jordan climbed up onto his personnel carrier and took off down the road to the south as fast as his PC could roll. Bannon turned to Uleski, “Bob, go get the platoon leaders and double time them up here ASAP.”

Uleski nodded “On the way.”

While the XO was gathering up the platoon leaders, Bannon laid his map out on the front slope of 55 and took a moment to study the area where the Team was to go. He quickly decided to put the two tank platoons on the west, one on each side of the road where they would have good fields of fire. The Mech Platoon would go through the woods to the east side and straddle the road. His main concern was to get the Team under cover and deployed.

As soon as the platoon leaders were gathered around the map, he gave them his orders. “There has been a delay in the attack.” As one, the faces of the platoon leaders lit up as if the governor had just given them a last-minute reprieve. Before any of them had a chance to ask why, Bannon continued. “We are going to move into an assembly area to the northeast. 2nd Platoon, you deploy here to the north of the road and orient to the west.”

Leaning over, McAlester glanced at where Bannon was pointing at on his map. When he was sure he had the spot fixed in his head, he nodded and stepped back.

“3rd Platoon, you deploy here and orient to the northwest.” Just as McAlister had, Garger looked at Bannon’s map and nodded once he was sure of where he was to go.

“From those positions you should be able to cover the ground to your front with crossing fires. Be advised, there are friendly scouts and a friendly company team here and here. So don’t shoot unless you’re sure they’re Russians.”

Next Bannon turned to the Mech Platoon leader. “Lieutenant Harding, you will deploy your platoon here on either side of the road. The XO will deploy with you. Once we’re under cover, check out your tanks and tracks, boresight your main guns, and feed your people. As there is no way of telling how long we’ll be here, treat this as you would any defensive position. If there are no questions, let’s roll.”

Garger stopped Bannon as he was about to pick up his map. “I don’t have a question, but I think you ought to be advised that 33 fell out about ten klicks down the road.” Uleski and Bannon stopped midstride and stared at Garger as he continued. “Sergeant Pierson stopped to see if he could help. O’Dell told him he suddenly lost all power. They tried to restart 33, but the engine kept aborting. I have the grid location of where 33 is.”

Bannon stifled a grunt. “Give it to the XO when we get into the assembly area. Right now all that matters is getting off this road before some Russian jet jockey makes us all grease spots.” With that, the group scattered and remounted.

Moving through the Staat Forest was easy. It was a typical German forest made up of straight, well-spaced trees all lined up in neat rows and crisscrossed with logging trails that were not on Bannon’s map. The forest floor itself was clear of clutter as if it had just been raked. As the tanks jockeyed into positions, the forest and the hills on either side trapped the noise and caused echoes. When all were shut down, Bannon could distinctly hear the conversations of other crews as they dismounted, stretching and yawning before checking the tracks of their tanks for lose end connectors and center guide. On 66 Kelp and Ortelli tended to that while Folk and Bannon ran a check the fire control. When they were finished with that, the two of them boresighted the main gun.

By the time Bannon was satisfied 66 was as ready as it would be, the other crews nearby were already beginning to break out their morning meal of dehydrated MREs. Folk, without needing to be told, pulled out an opened case and began to pass one out to each man. Normally there would be complaining and haggling to secure a better meal, but they were all tired. Even Bannon, who was not a big fan of MREs, was content to munch on his cold meal, popping bits of dehydrated peaches into his mouth, a practice that caused his lips to pucker as the peach drew every bit of moisture from his tongue.

In the stillness that followed, as he pondered what to do next, Bannon decided it might not be a bad idea to go up to Team Bravo’s position and do a visual recon of the area they were to cross, provided the attack did eventually come off as planned. From there Objective LOG, as well as all the terrain the Team would have to cross to reach it, would be visible. When he’d finished all the MRE he cared to bother with at the moment, he stuffed the pouches of food he wanted to save for later in a pocket of his trousers. What he didn’t want went into an empty sandbag tied to the side of the turret the crew of 66 was used for trash. In doing so, Bannon could not help but chuckle to himself. Policing up their litter was a habit that was pounded into every soldier that started on their Day One in the Army. Bannon found very idea that anyone would care whether he cleaned up after himself, given what his Team and the Soviets were doing to the German countryside to be beyond ludicrous. Still, tossing the empty MRE sack and unwanted food pouches over the side of the tank was something he could not bring himself to do. Some standards, he told himself, needed to maintained, even one as out of place as this one.

After setting that stray thought aside, he sent Kelp to fetch Lieutenant Harding with instructions that officer was to report to him with one of his platoon’s PCs. Once that message was delivered, Kelp was to head over to the XO’s tank and tell Uleski he would be in command while Bannon was away. Bannon himself went about on foot to collect the two tank platoon leaders and the artillery FIST.

Once everyone was gathered and mounted in the Harding’s PC, they went forward, taking great care as they did so. The last thing Bannon want was to expose the PC in the open or come storming up behind Team Bravo and get blown away by a nervous gunner belonging to that team.

This last concern almost became a reality, for when the PC carrying Bannon and his platoon leaders did reach Team Bravo’s position, they were greeted with the sight of several weapons of various calibers trained on the track and tracking them. Without having to be told, Harding, who was TC-ing the PC, stopped and identified himself. This task was made easier by the fact that even at a distance and through the woods, several of the people in Team Bravo were able to recognized Harding as well as his driver. Only when he was sure no one was going to light them up, Bannon had Harding pulling into a covered and concealed position where he, the platoon leaders, and FIST chief dismounted. From there they made their way on foot to the north edge of the tree line.

The last few yards of their trek was covered on their bellies to a spot that offered Bannon and his little gaggle cover while affording them a clear view of Objective Log and the terrain they would need to cross to reach it. From there, Bannon took to pointing out the key terrain features to them. The village of Lemm was to the right front, the hill that was Objective LOG was directly to their front, and the village of Vogalburg was to the left front in the distance.

Bannon was in the process of explaining how the Team would deploy and maneuver once they’d cross the LD when an infantryman from Team Bravo crawled up behind him and slapped the side of his boot. When he turned to find out what he wanted, the infantryman whispered that the colonel wanted to see him. Leaving Harding in charge of the other platoon leaders, Bannon crawled back until he felt it was safe stand upright and followed the soldier who had been sent to fetch him.

When he found Reynolds, Bannon could tell Blue Six was in rare form. Without waiting for Bannon to report, Reynolds ripped into him. “What in the hell is your company doing sitting on the fucking hill behind us and not on Hill 214?”

Dumbfounded, all Bannon could do was stare at the colonel. “I don’t understand, sir. My Team is in the assembly area we were directed to occupy. I was waiting for the order to attack.”

“Waiting! Waiting! Who the hell told you to wait? I’ve been up here for the last hour and a half waiting for you.”

“Sir, the S-3 told me to put the Team into an assembly area behind Bravo and wait until the rest of the battalion closed up.”

“I never gave such an order. What I want you to do is to get your people moving and get up on Hill 214 ASAP. IS THAT CLEAR?”

With the colonel beside himself with rage and his own anger threatening to override his ability to keep it in check, Bannon stood before Reynolds, glaring at him in silence as he struggled to calm down enough to respond. This, he realized as he was doing so, was neither the time nor place to be engaging in a pissing contest with a superior whose yelling had caused everyone in Team Bravo within ear shot to stop what they had been doing and watch.

Drawing himself up, Bannon took in a deep breath and locked eyes with Reynolds. “Am I to understand that my Team is to attack without Charlie Company in support, sir?”

“You let me worry about Charlie Company, captain. You just get those people of yours moving. Now.” With that, Reynolds pivoted about on his heels and stalked off, leaving Bannon standing there, unsure what to do next.

It was clear things were going to hell in a hand basket at an ever accelerating pace. The idea of starting the attack with only half of the battalion on hand was, in Bannon’s mind, nothing short of insane. Yet he had been given a direct order, one that conjured up the specter of the Charge of the Light Brigade and Pickett’s Charge. There had to be a way to carry out his orders without putting the lives of his people at risk in an ill-advised attack, he told himself as he turned to head back to where his platoon leaders were awaiting him. The last thing he want to do was to become the subject of a lesson on “How not to conduct an attack” at the Armor School.

As Harding’s PC made its way back to the Team’s assembly area, Bannon’s mind was racing a mile a minute in an effort to find a way out or around the dilemma he was facing. An order had been given. In his heart and mind, he knew that it was wrong for the Team to go all the way to Hill 214 on its own. Yet he couldn’t get around the order. Not immediately. A partial solution slowly began to take shape. The Team could at least attack and seize LOG. Conditions for that part of the operation were still favorable. Team Bravo was in overwatch and the Team would have the full support of dedicated artillery throughout their advance. If the Team did manage to LOG unopposed, they could then maneuver against Hill 214 in a slow and deliberate manner. Reynolds had told him to move, but didn’t say how fast. If the Team hit resistance on LOG, as the commanding officer in contact Bannon would be able to use his discretion and hold on LOG until C Company appeared or Team Bravo moved up to support. It was decided, then. Team Yankee would comply, but with extreme caution. He was going to take this one step at a time, hoping for the best as he went.

Uleski and First Sergeant Harrert met the personnel carrier as it pulled up next to 66. “First Sergeant, when did you get here? Is C Company here too?”

“I’ve been here for about fifteen minutes. I haven’t seen C Company since last night. In fact, after I left the column, I didn’t see anyone in the battalion until I came up to Pierso and 33.”

“What do you mean, you left the column? Why did you leave the column?”

“Well, sir, it’s like this,” Harrert began in a tone of voice that betrayed the frustration he felt over how things had played out during the road march. “We weren’t on the road an hour before the company we were following made a wrong turn and began to go in circles, traveling along dirt roads, through side streets in villages where the M-88s got stuck, and on and on for two hours. At one of our halts, while we were waiting for an M-88 to back up after becoming stuck on a street that was too narrow for it to pass and find an alternate route around, I went up to the captain leading the column and asked him if he knew where he was. When he showed me a spot on his map that was two map sheets to the west of where we really were, I tried to explain to him he was wrong. Well, it had been a long, hard night for him and he wasn’t about to listen to an obnoxious NCO. He told me to get back to my track and get ready to roll. That’s when I said to myself, “Raymond, to hell with this shit. I’m going to find the company.” So I went back, pulled my track, the ambulance track, and the M-88 out of column, and took off looking for you.” Pausing, he dropped his gaze and took to shaking his head. “I’m here to tell you, sir, that boy had his head lodged so far up his third point of contact that I doubt he knows we left.”

“Well, I really wish you could have brought C Company with you,” Bannon opined. “Even so, it’s good to have you here. You’re the first good thing that’s happened all day. Besides, you’re just in time for the attack.”

Uleski, who had been eyeing the platoon leaders and wondering why they were so glum, snapped his head around toward Bannon, “Do what? Attack now? Without the rest of the battalion?”

Bannon knew the platoon leaders had heard everything that had gone on between him and the colonel. They were now waiting to see how he was going to deal with the nightmare they’d been handed.

Bannon returned their expectant gaze with one he hoped did not betray his true feelings. It was going to take a lot of finesse to convince them and Uleski that they could pull it off. But if he could do it in the manner he had settled on without any further interference from battalion, they just might have a fighting chance. With all the positive enthusiasm he could generate, given the task ahead of him, he began issuing new orders.

“Gather around and listen up, gents, while I tell you how we’re going to skin this cat,” Bannon muttered with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “The situation and the conditions for the first part of the operation, the attack on LOG, are still the same. If anything, we have improved the odds.”

Ignoring the quizzical looks this comment resulted in on the face of his platoon leaders, Bannon pressed on gamely. “We’ve had a break, bore-sighted the guns, checked the tracks, had breakfast, and got a chance to see the objective and our axis of advance. Team Bravo is in position and ready to support us. So we will go as we had planned.”

Pausing, he looked from face to face to see if his upbeat prelude had done anything to banish some of the skepticism his initial announcement had resulted in. Though he could tell none of them were totally convinced, at least they were listening.

“Lieutenant Harding, you will start the move by bringing your platoon up the road. As before, your platoon will be in the middle with my tank hanging onto your far right track. The two tank platoons will start their move when the Mech Platoon comes up even to them. Both tank platoons will move out in an echelon formation. Second Platoon, you’ll refuse your right. Third Platoon, refuse your left. When we get out in the open between those two tree lines, the whole Team will pivot on 2nd Platoon, move through the gap, and head for Objective LOG. As we move on LOG, I want to give the village of Lemm a wide berth, just in case the Russians are in there. So don’t crowd the 2nd Platoon.”

“Lieutenant Unger, I want you to contact your guns and have them locked, loaded, and ready to pound LOG the instant we receive fire. All you should have to do is yell shoot. Don’t wait for me or anyone else to tell you. Just do it.”

“Lieutenant U, as 3rd Platoon is short a tank, I want you to team up with Pierson and play wingman. That way you won’t be so obvious hanging out there all by yourself in the center. Once we’re on LOG, we’ll size up the situation before we roll on to Objective LINK. If no one comes up to cover our move, 3rd Platoon will take up positions on the far side of LOG and over-watch the move of 2nd Platoon, followed by the Mech Platoon. We will move up onto LINK as planned with 3rd Platoon coming up on order. I’ll be between the Mech and 2nd Platoon. Do you have any questions?”

The platoon leaders hesitated as they looked at Bannon, each other, then back to Bannon. As one, they all shook their heads.

“All right then, Lieutenant Harding, I want you to start your move in twenty-five minutes. I have exactly 0835 hours. Let’s roll.” The platoon leaders saluted and went their separate ways. The XO and first sergeant stayed.

Uleski was the first to speak. “Are we going to be able to pull this off?”

“Well Bob, like I said, as far as the first part of the attack, if anything, we’re in better shape. It’s the second part that’s shaky. It’s my intention to take my time going from LOG to LINK, if we go at all. The longer we take, the better the chances are that the rest of the battalion will close up. If we’re hit hard getting onto LOG, I’m going to hold at LOG until the battalion commander either moves up Team Bravo to support, or Delta Company comes up. I think that’s the only way we can play it.”

“Agreed. But once we’re out in the open, the other people may not like us taking one of their hills. You know how possessive the Russians are of real-estate once they take it.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why I said we are going to have to play it by ear. I don’t intend to jump out beyond LOG on our own unless I’m sure we can do so and be around to talk about it tonight. And if it comes to pass you find yourself in command of the team, I expect you to do the same. Use your discretion. Clear?”

“Clear, boss. Got any more cheerful news you wish to share with us?”

“No, none that I can think of. If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

With that, Uleski turned and headed for 55. Bannon then turned to Harrert.

“First Sergeant, there are some people over there in those woods belonging to the Scout Platoon of the 2nd of the 93rd Mech. Take your track, the medic track, and the 88 over there and let them know what we’re about to do. With the way everything else has been going this morning, I doubt if anyone else has coordinated with them. If there are mines or some kind of danger that they know about that are going to cause us problems, get on the radio and call me ASAP. Stay there until we get up on LOG, then close up on us on LOG if and when you can.”

“I don’t have the 88 with me right now. I left it with 33. But I’ll take the medic track and get moving unless you have something else.”

“No, that about covers it. See you on LOG.”

Bannon had little doubt his positive attitude and confident spiel did little to relieve the concerns and apprehensions his platoon leaders had about the upcoming attack. He certainly hadn’t sold himself. Be that as it may, he concluded grimly, with twenty-two minutes to go before the Mech Platoon began to move, there was nothing more he could do but to mount up and wait. As he did so, the crew of 66 watched him. They had heard the orders and, like the platoon leaders, didn’t look very convinced. It seemed, Bannon sighed, the old saying You can’t fool all the people was true.

With the issue decided and the wheels set in motion, Bannon was anxious to get on with it. This wasn’t going to be a peacetime training exercise. There wouldn’t be an after-action critique to discuss who did well and who didn’t. This was really it. The graves registration people, either Russian or US, would be the ones sorting out the winners from the losers this time. Still, there was always the possibility that the Team just might pull this off, Bannon kept telling himself. He had to think positively, be positive. They had to go out there and make things happen. Like the roll-call sergeant on “Hill Street Blues” told his patrolman every day, “Let’s do it to them, before they do it to us.”

The Mech Platoon set off as ordered. As they broke out of the tree line, they began to deploy into a wedge formation. When their last track was in the open, Bannon gave Ortelli the order to move and joined the formation to the right and a little behind the far right personnel carrier. Unger and his track did likewise behind 66. The 2nd Platoon then began to deploy, each track always a little to the right and a little farther behind the track in front. When the entire Team was deployed, it formed a large wedge that measured 700 to 800 meters at the base with a depth of 500 meters. In this formation they could deal with any threat that appeared to the front or to either flank.

When the Team began its pivot on 2nd Platoon and turned north, Bannon saw the first sergeant’s track and the medic track waiting in the tree line behind the scout platoon position. Harrert stood just out from the tree line alone as he watched the Team roll into the attack. The first, sergeant, whom he had known for several years, was reliable, steady, and a good man to have near in a tight spot. Bannon wondered for a moment what was going through his mind. Given the chance, he imagined Harrert would have traded places with anyone in the Team. It was his company, his people, who were going into the attack, and he was staying behind. Unable to watch, he turned and walked away, pausing once in order to glanced over his shoulder before disappearing into the tree line.

The young Soviet lieutenant played with the remains of his breakfast. It wasn’t fit to eat, he thought, so he might as well get some pleasure from it. Around him his men sat around finishing their meals or simply enjoying the chance to rest. The entire company, or more correctly, what was left of the company, had spent all night preparing fighting positions on the small hill overlooking a town named Lemm. Since there had been no engineer support available, all the work had been done by hand.

On the first day of the war, the company had been with the first attack echelon. Heavy losses, including all of its officers except for him, resulted in the company being pulled out on the second day. But instead of going into reserve, they had been sent to establish an outpost on the regiment’s flank. The lieutenant didn’t much care for the mission. With the exception of two tanks that with him, and three in Lemm, his platoon was all alone. As he often did, he looked at the collection of tired soldiers he had and decided if a fight did come, it wouldn’t last long. Letting his mind wander, he thought that things could have been worse, the regiment could have sent a political officer with him.

As the Team passed between the two tree lines and crested a small hill, the terrain beyond opened up. The hill that was Objective LOG was directly in front about four kilometers away. The German countryside here had thus far escaped the ravages of war. It was lush and green on this August morning, just like countless August mornings before. The very idea that this quiet and beautiful landscape was a battlefield seemed absurd, almost obscene to Bannon.

But it was a battlefield. As the Team left its last cover behind, all eyes for kilometers around were turning on it. The Scout Platoon to the left, and Team Bravo on the right, watched Team Yankee as it rolled forward. Within the Team, all were as ready as they could be for whatever came their way. Guns were oriented to cover assigned sectors and all but the track commanders were buttoned up and ready for action. Like fans at a football game waiting for the opening kickoff, the officers and men of Team Bravo and the scouts watched in morbid curiosity, eager to see what would happen next, thankful that they weren’t the ones out in the open.

The other people, the Soviets, were also watching. Their reactions were different. To a man they scrambled to meet the American attack. Reports were flashed to their commanders. Gunners threw down their mess tins and slid into position. Loaders and ammo bearers prepared to load the next round. A new battlefield was about to mar the much-contested Germany countryside.

Team Yankee had two obstacles that had to be negotiated. The first was a railroad embankment that ran across their front. Going over it wasn’t the problem. All the Team’s tracks could do that with ease. The problem was that it required the Team to slow down. It would break up the formation momentarily and, as the tracks went over it, their soft underbellies would be exposed to enemy fire. If they were going to be hit, this is where Bannon expected it.

As the first track came up and began to go over, Bannon held his breath as he watched the PC crest the embankment, hang there for a moment fully exposed, then drop down to the other side. Two more PCs followed and trundled on without incident. Perhaps the Russians were waiting for the tanks, Bannon mused. Perhaps they wanted to let the PCs go over and let the embankment separate the Team before firing.

Then it was Alpha 66’s turn. Ortelli slowed 66 until it made contact with the embankment. As soon as the tracks bit into it, he gunned the engine, causing 66 to rise up at a steep angle. Instinctively, Folk depressed the gun to keep it level with the far horizon. Bannon grabbed the commander’s override, ready to elevate the gun once they were on the other side. If he didn’t, the depressed gun would dig itself into the ground as 66 went down the other side.

As the tank crested the embankment and started down, Ortelli switched from accelerator to brake while Bannon jerked the commander’s override back, elevating the gun. Folk kept fighting for control of the gun, but didn’t get it back until 66 was on level ground again. Once he had control of it, he reoriented the gun and went back to searching for targets.

With the first obstacle behind 66, Bannon turned in the cupola and watched the rest of the Team’s tanks made their way up and over the embankment two at a time. Satisfied that they were not going to be hit there, he faced front and eyed the next obstacle, a stream that, like the railroad embankment, ran perpendicular to their direction of travel. The first PC was already down in the stream and halfway across when he caught sight of it. The stream itself was not very wide. Centuries of erosion, however, had created a ditch some twenty meters in width with embankments a meter high. Upon reaching it, Ortelli eased 66 down into the streambed, crossed with ease, and began to climb the far bank. They were halfway up it when the shit hit the fan.

Several flashes from the hill that was Objective LOG were followed almost instantly by a thud and the appearance of a column of dirt in front of 66. “REVERSE! REVERSE! GET BACK IN THE DITCH!” The sudden change in direction threw everyone on 66 forward. Bannon reached for the smoke grenade dischargers and fired a volley. The six grenades launched and shrouded 66 in a curtain of white smoke just as the tank was settling back down in the streambed.

Grabbing the radio switch on the side of his CVC, Bannon keyed the Team net. “ALL BRAVO 3 ROMEO ELEMENTS. DEPLOY INTO LINE IN THE STREAMBED. BREAK. ZULU 77, BRING YOUR PEOPLE BACK. THIS IS ROMEO 25, OUT.”

Commanders are paid to make decisions. Sometimes there is ample time to consider all the options, to analyze the situation, develop several courses of action, compare each, and then decide which alternative is best. Then there are occasions when there is no time for all that, occasions when the commander must see, decide, and act in almost the same instant. This was one of those times.

“GUNNER, STAND BY TO ENGAGE.”

Bannon looked to his right and saw the FIST track halted next to his. The tanks of the 2nd Platoon were entering the streambed and nosing their way up the embankment on the far side. He turned to his left and saw two of the PCs plop back into the streambed. They had also fired their grenade launchers. He next turned back to the front. The smoke was beginning to dissipate. Off to the front left, about fifty meters from 66, a PC was still sitting in the open and on fire with one of its passengers hanging out of the troop door in the back of the vehicle. Bright flames spilled out of the door and through open hatches. Alpha 66 had been exceedingly lucky. The PC hadn’t.

The turret of 66 suddenly jerked to the right as Folk yelled out an acquisition report without bothering to key the intercom. “ENEMY TANK, TWELVE O’CLOCK.”

“GUNNER, SABOT, TANK.” Bannon yelled in response even as he was dropping down to view through the commander’s extension. He couldn’t see the target.

“UP!”

Putting his trust in Folk, Bannon did not hesitate. “FIRE!”

“ON THE WAAAY!”

Alpha 66 rocked back as the main gun went off. The view to the front was obstructed by the muzzle blast and dust it created.

As soon as he could see through his sight, Folk yelled out his sensing of the round he had just fired. “TARGET!”

Bannon put his eye up to the extension and confirmed Folk’s sensing. The enemy tank he had not seen before was now clearly visible as it burned. But he had a Team to run. He had no time to play tank commander right now. He had to let Folk search for his own targets and engage them when he found them. “CEASE FIRE. GUNNER, ENGAGE AT WILL.”

“ROMEO 25, THIS IS TANGO 77. ON LINE AND READY, OVER.” 2nd Platoon was ready.

“ROGER TANGO 77.”

“ROMEO 25, THIS IS ZULU 77. READY, OVER.”

“ROMEO 25, THIS IS MIKE 77. READY, OVER.” The Mech and 3rd Platoons were ready.

“SPLASH, OVER.”

The last voice had been Unger’s. Artillery was on the way.

The hill that was Objective LOG appeared to disappear as the artillery impacted. Bits of trees and fountains of dirt rose up above the tree line. “BRAVO 3 ROMEO ELEMENT’S, THIS IS ROMEO 25. MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! LIMA 61, KEEP THE ARTY COMING.”

As one, Team Yankee lurched forward. For the second time 66 moved up over the stream’s embankment. This time Ortelli had the accelerator to the floor. The tank flopped down on level ground with a bang and took off at a dead run. A line of three tanks and three PCs to the left of 66 were also out of the streambed and charging forward past the burning PC.

It wasn’t until they were up and out in the open and Bannon was looking left, then right to see what the other tracks in his command were doing that he noticed the tank that had been to the right of 66 during the move to the stream was stopped, half hanging out of the streambed. It was burning and shuddering as its on-board ammo cooked off. Second Lieutenant McAlister was dead.

If the rest of 2nd Platoon wasn’t aware they were now without a platoon leader, they weren’t acting like it, for the other tank commanders in the platoon were keeping up with 66.

Within 66, Folk yelled out again. “LOADER, LOAD SABOT. TANK!”

“UP!”

“ON THE WAAAY!”

Again 66 shuddered as the main gun fired, recoiled, and spewed out a spent shell casing. This time the obscuration didn’t cling to the tank as 66 rolled through the dust cloud created by the muzzle blast. Bannon turned to see what Folk had been firing at but saw only a column of dirt. He had missed whatever it was. Not that it mattered. Another tank to the left got it. A brilliant flash and a shower of sparks marked the Soviet tank that had been Folk’s target.

A quick survey of Objective LOG revealed four burning vehicles, two of which were definitely tanks. The other two were partially hidden but emitting angry billows of black smoke and flames. Freshly dug dirt was now visible just inside the tree line. There were Soviet infantrymen dug in on the objective. Bannon had no intention of fighting it out with the Soviets on LOG. He did not want to dismount the Mech Platoon in the open. “BRAVO 3 ROMEO — THIS IS ROMEO 25, THERE ARE DUG-IN TROOPS ON LOG. WE WILL CONTINUE TO ATTACK THROUGH. DO NOT DISMOUNT OR STOP ON THE—”

Bannon’s transmission was cut short by two huge explosions on either side of 66, causing the tank to buck violently from side to side and throwing Bannon off his perch and down onto the turret floor. Twisting about in his seat, Kelp reached down to help him as he struggled to climb back up into the commander’s cupola, yelling as he did so. “ARE YOU OK?”

“Yeah. Get ready to man your machinegun!”

“Your face is bleeding.”

Bannon brought one hand up and touched his face. When he pulled it away, there was blood on it. But it couldn’t be too bad. He was still moving and talking. His wound could be ignored. He had to regain control of the tank and the Team. With an effort, he boosted himself up and back into place.

The scene outside was chaos. The explosions that had rocked 66 were from Soviet artillery. 66 was on the verge of rolling out of the impact area. To the right he could see there were still two tanks moving forward. One of the 2nd Platoon tanks was several hundred meters to the rear, just sitting there. The FIST track was also gone. To the left there were two other tanks closing up on 66. The missing 3rd Platoon tank was nowhere to be seen. The Mech Platoon PCs had fallen behind and, as a result, were still in the middle of where the Soviet artillery was impacting. Bannon could make out only two PCs bobbing and weaving through the columns of flame and dirt. Seven vehicles. As best he could tell, that was all the Team had left. Seven out of fourteen vehicles.

“TROOPS, TWELVE O’CLOCK! ENGAGING WITH COAX!”

Folk’s call pulled Bannon’s attention back to the front. They were now within three hundred meters of the objective. Several Soviet infantrymen had popped up to engage them head-on with RPGs. The total stupidity of that was, in Bannon’s mind, beyond comprehension, for they were being cut down by the machine-gun fire from 66 and the surviving tanks without doing a damned bit of good. An RPG just wasn’t going to stop an M-l head-on, regardless of how brave the gunner was. Those tank commanders who could cut loose with their M-2s, adding to the mayhem. Every now and then, one of the Team’s tank would fire a HEAT round, adding to the effect of the friendly artillery that was still pounding LOG. In another minute, the four tanks that were still with 66 would be on the objective.

The destruction of the tanks and most of their BTR personnel carriers, the steady artillery fire, and the failure of their RPG gunners to stop the rush of Team Yankee proved to be too much for Soviet soldiers who had thus far survived the carnage being rained down on them. Just as the Team was about to enter the tree line, some began to take to their heels and flee.

As 66 made its way onto the objective, Bannon caught sight of a hidden Soviet BTR-60 personnel carrier began to back up, seeking to escape. But before he could issue a fire command and slew the main gun onto, it was taken out by a 2nd Platoon tank.

With his attention momentarily focused on the BTR, Bannon didn’t notice until it was too late that a lone Soviet soldier had risen up out of a trench not twenty meters to the right of 66 and was aiming an RPG straight at him. Bannon panicked. He tried to traverse the M2 to the right to engage the Soviet but he knew in his heart he wouldn’t make it in time. Calmly, the Russian took aim as he prepared to fire. He knew he had 66 and there wasn’t a damned thing Bannon could do to stop him.

But luck was still with Bannon as the Russian was suddenly thrown backwards as a stream of machine-gun rounds hit him in his chest. A 2nd Platoon tank had come up, seen the RPG gunner, and fired. The relief Bannon felt was incredible. For the second time in a matter of minutes, 66 had been saved by the slimmest of margins.

Overwhelmed by alternating rushes of fear, anger, and helplessness, the Soviet lieutenant watched the American tanks rumble by his position. All his efforts and those of his men had been for nothing. The American tanks had ripped through his position as if he hadn’t been there. Catching his breath once they were gone, he began to survey the scene. Those of his men who had not fled or been stuck down were coming up from the bottoms of their foxholes. Looking back over the field to his front, he saw several personnel carriers closing on his positions. “Well,” he thought out loud, “If we can’t kill the tanks, we’ll kill the American infantry.” With that, he grabbed an RPG from a dead man as he prepared to rally what was left of his platoon and continue the fight.

Once on Objective Log, the five remaining tanks of Team Yankee continued on in a staggered line moving forward through the woods. Friendly artillery had stopped falling, probably as a result of a call from Team Bravo. After entering the woods a hundred meters, the tanks lost contact with the Soviets. There was also no sign of the Mech Platoon.

Deciding it would be best to wait for the Mech Platoon to catch up, Bannon ordered Ortelli to slow down as he keyed his mike to make a net call on the company net. “ALL BRAVO 3 ROMEO ELEMENTS ON LOG, STOP AND FORM A COIL. I SAY AGAIN, STOP AND FORM A COIL. WE WILL WAIT FOR THE ZULU 77 ELEMENT TO CLOSE UP, OVER.”

To his utter amazement, none of the other tanks stopped. They didn’t even slow down. Bannon called again, but got no response. The radio was keying, but for some reason the other tanks were not hearing his transmissions. Even worse, instead of stopping, they were beginning to speed up. He called a third time with no luck. To make matters worse, artillery began to fall all round 66. He assumed it was Soviet but couldn’t tell. This caused the other TCs to crouch low in their cupolas and orient to their full attention to the front as they did their best to pick their way through the woods as quickly as possible.

The ragged line of tanks that remained, with Alpha 66 trailing slightly behind the others, had just emerged from the woods on the far side of Objective LOG when 66 suddenly slid to the right and stopped with a violent jerk that sent Kelp and Bannon bouncing about from side to side. As they were struggling to regain balance, Ortelli gunned the engine. But 66 did not move. Once he’d managed to regain his footing, Bannon stuck his head out his open hatch even as Ortelli continued to gun the engine in a desperate effort to move forward.

Without having to see what was keeping them from moving forward, Bannon realized they were stuck. Even worse, the last of Team Yankee’s tanks, all four of them, were continuing to roll on toward Hill 214 and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to stop them.