pulled in. Bannon had been right on both counts. Colonel Reynolds was there to provide an update on the big picture and give him an order for a new mission.

Colonel Reynolds had just come from brigade. Rather than pull all the team commanders back to the battalion CP, he was making the rounds and passing the word out himself.

Besides, Bannon suspected that Reynolds wanted to gauge the impact of the first day's battle on his team commanders just as Bannon wanted to do with his platoon leaders.

The first item covered was a rundown on the battalion's current situation. Team Yankee had been the only team to engage the enemy within the battalion task force. For a moment, Bannon wondered why the colonel bothered to provide him that brilliant flash of the obvious.

Team Bravo had been badly mauled by artillery, losing five of its ten PCs, two of the four ITVs that had been with them, and one of the four 1st Platoon tanks Team Yankee had attached to them. The destroyed tank had taken a direct hit on the top of the turret. The armor on a tank can't be thick everywhere and the top is about as thin as it gets. None of 12's crew survived. Of the remaining three tanks, one had lost a road wheel and hub but had been recovered and would be back up by midnight. Because of the losses, the trauma of being under artillery for so long, and the loss of its commander, Team Bravo had been pulled out of the lane. D company, the battalion reserve, had moved up to replace Bravo, to give them a chance to regroup.

C company, to the left of Team Yankee, had had an easy day. They hadn't seen a Russian all day and had not received any artillery fire. The battalion commander told Bannon that the C company commander and his men were chomping at the bit, waiting for a chance to have a whack at the Reds. In a dry and even voice Bannon told the battalion commander that if the gentlemen in C company were so fired up for action, they were welcome to Team Yankee's position, including the bodies. The cold, cutting remark caught Reynolds off guard.

He stared at Bannon for a moment, then let the matter drop, moving on to the battalion's new mission.

In the colonel's PC, Bannon received his new orders. On the wall of the PC was a map showing the brigade's sector.

The battalion task force was on the brigade's left flank. First Brigade, to the north, had received the main Soviet attack and had lost considerable ground. The attack against the battalion had been a supporting attack. Bannon thought about that for a moment. The Team's fight had been a sideshow, unimportant in the big picture. As that thought rattled around in

his mind, he felt like screaming. Here the Team had put its collective ass on the line, fought a superior foe twice, and had three men killed and five wounded in an unimportant sideshow. His ego and pride could not accept that. What was he going to tell Lorriet's mother when he wrote her? "Dear Mrs. Lorriet, your son was killed in a nameless, insignificant sideshow. Better luck next time." He began to feel angry.

Slowly he became aware that the battalion commander and the S-3 were looking at him.

"May I proceed?" the battalion commander's curt question didn't require a reply. The 1 st Brigade would be hard pressed to hold another attack. Intelligence indicated that the Soviet forces in front of

1st Brigade had lost heavily and were no longer able to attack. A second echelon division, the 28th Guards Tank Division, was moving up and was expected to be in position to attack not later than dawn tomorrow. The 28th Guards had been under attack by the Air Force most of the day but could not be stopped. Division had given brigade the mission to attack into the flank of the 28th Guards Division as soon as they were fully committed in the attack.

The Mech Battalion was given the mission of pulling out of the line on order, moving north, and spearheading this attack. The battalion commander was now giving Team Yankee, his tank-heavy team, the mission of spearheading the battalion's effort.

Bannon's mind again wandered off the matter at hand. Somewhere in the division's rear, several hours ago, while Team Yankee was still knee-deep in Russians, the division's commanding general had told his colonels as they surveyed the map: "Attack there." While the first sergeant and Sergeant Folk had been dragging the bodies of Team Yankee's dead to an out-of-the-way spot, the brigade com-

mander had told the battalion commander: "Attack there." Now the executor of the plan, the lead element commander, the lowest ranking person in the U.S.

Army to carry the coveted title of Commander, had his marching orders. As he received the detailed instructions from the S-3 as to routes, objectives, fire support, and coordination instructions, they were joined by the Team's fire-support officer or FIST Team Chief, a 2nd Lt. Rodney Unger. He had finally made it back. He was already familiar with the concept of the operation so there was no need to go over everything. When the S-3 finished, he asked if there were any questions or anything that the Team needed. Bannon's request that the Team be pulled out of the line now to an assembly area for a rest was denied. According to the battalion commander, Team Bravo needed it more than Yankee did. As Team Bravo was going to be in reserve, Bannon requested that the 1st Tank Platoon be returned. That request was also denied. He then requested that an ITV section be attached to the Team to make good their losses. That request too was denied as the other companies without tanks needed some antitank fire power. Seeing that he wasn't going to get anything from battalion but a pat on the back and a pep talk, he stopped asking, and the meeting was over. The battalion commander and the S-3 left Team Yankee to go down to C company to calm them down before they chewed through their bit.

Uleski had the platoon leaders and the first sergeant assembled in the PC when the battalion commander left. They were exchanging information and observations as Bannon climbed into the track. Before he discussed the new mission, he had each platoon leader update him on the status of his platoon and the condition of the men and equipment. They were all tired but confident. The first day's success had removed many of the fears and doubts that they had had in themselves and in their men. The Team had met the Russians, laser range finder to laser range finder, and fond that they were not ten feet tall and could be beaten. Even Uleski was more himself. Bannon began to feel better. The negative thoughts that had kept clouding his mind in the

battalion commander's track were fading. The quiet, calm confidence of Team Yankee's leadership gave its commander's flagging morale a needed boost.

According to the book, a .leader is supposed to use one-third of the time he has available from when he receives a mission to when he executes it for the preparation of his order.

That formula is a good guide, but it seldom works out in practice. Rather than keep the platoon leaders and FIST chief waiting while he came up with his plan, Bannon gave them what information he could. As the platoon leaders copied the graphics of the operation from the commander's map to theirs, Bannon considered his plan of action and quickly wrote some notes for his initial briefing. The briefing included the general situation, the enemy situation, the Team's mission, routes of movement, objectives, and a simple scheme of maneuver. The Team may have done well in its first fight, but it had been an easy one, conducted from stationary positions using a plan that had been developed for months. The new mission was an attack, a short notice one at that. He didn't want to do anything fancy or complicated. Simplicity and flexibility were what he wanted.

The Team would use standard battle drill and rely on their SOP. Order of march out of the position would be the 2nd Platoon with 55 in the lead, followed by 66, the FIST track, 3rd Platoon, and the Mech Platoon. Bannon explained that they would travel with either the two tank platoons up and abreast and the Mech trailing or in column with 3rd Platoon overwatching the advance of 2nd. This scheme put the majority of the Team's combat power forward and left some flexibility to change formations rapidly with minimum reshuffling.

Detailed instructions, the artillery fire support plans, and any new information would be provided prior to the move.

After his briefing, Bannon made a quick check with the platoon leaders to answer any questions concerning the new mission. He reminded them to ensure that their platoons stayed alert and on the radio. He also stressed the need to make sure they rotated with their crews when it came to sleeping. He wanted wide awake, alert leaders when the Team went into the attack. With the platoon leaders dismissed, he went over the needs of the Team and the support plan for the attack with Uleski and Harrert.

The news the first sergeant had was not good. The heavy fighting to the north had consumed huge amounts of ammunition, in particular tank main gun ammo. Because the corps ammo resupply point was still being set up, division ordered the brigades to send whatever tank ammunition they had to the 1 st Brigade. All the rest of Team Yankee's basic load of ammunition that was supposed to be in the battalion trains area was gone, headed north in the Team's trucks to someone else's tanks. Bannon was too tired to work himself into a rage. The battalion commander and the S-3 had been there for over thirty minutes and had neglected to inform him of this "minor" point. He began to wonder whose side the battalion commander was on. It almost seemed as if this was some kind of test to see how far Team Yankee could go

on its own.

The good news was that the Team would still get a hot meal in the morning, provided there was no interference from the Russians. New protective mask filters would be passed out at that time. The first sergeant had been working on securing them since he heard the news of the chemical attack. He

would have enough replacements for the entire Team. An additional day's worth of MREs would also be passed out to add to the two days' supply already on the Team's tracks. The Team was in good shape as far as fuel was concerned, but Bannon wanted to be sure.

Harrert was to arrange for a top off right after breakfast, provided battalion hadn't taken the fuel too. The three of them exchanged a few sharp and humorous remarks on that subject and, with a chuckle, broke up the meeting. The first sergeant returned Uleski and McAlister to the 2nd Platoon's positions before heading back to the trains area. Bannon headed back for the FIST track to finish the Team's plan.

Second Lt. Rodney Unger was a good FIST Team chief. He still had a lot to learn about tanks and infantry. But he knew about artillery and how to get it. When he was first assigned to the Team as the FIST nine months before, he still

had a lot of funny ideas about what his role was and how he wanted to do business. It didn't take long to convince him that a lot of what he had been taught at Fort Sill was best left there. Once that was accomplished, Bannon taught him all the "bad" habits FIST chiefs use in the field. While Unger worked up his initial fire plan based on what he had been given in the first sergeant's track, Bannon started to go over the scheme of maneuver in more detail.

First he considered how the Soviets might be deployed to defend their flank. All likely locations and fields of fire were marked in red. Satisfied that this "Russian" plan of defense was plausible, Bannon began to work on the details of how the Team was going to

seize its assigned objective quickly and with minimum losses. This time, he

methodically went over the actions the Team had to execute in order for it to get from where it was to its objective. Whenever Bannon came across a Soviet field of fire he had plotted, he determined the best way to deal with it. He wanted to bypass wherever possible. When it wasn't possible,

he

had to plan the best way to destroy the enemy without destroying the Team. This process continued until he had completed the entire route of advance. Once Bannon finished, Unger superimposed his supporting fire plan over the scheme of maneuver. When there was a deficiency or Bannon required a special method of engagement from the artillery, he explained what he wanted, and Unger made the changes. As most maneuver commanders are prone to do, he asked for an enormous amount of artillery-delivered smoke. If he could have, he would have moved the Team through one huge smoke screen from where they were all the way to the objective. If every company and team commander were given all the smoke he asked for, all of Germany would have been perpetually shrouded in a dense smoke screen. But reality and the constraints of the artillery basic load reduced his demands. Satisfied with the soundness of the plan, he climbed out of the FIST track and returned

to

66 while Unger rumbled off into the night to pass his plan on to the battalion FSE. The high-pitched whine of the FIST's modified M-113

faded into the night and was replaced by a stillness punctured at random intervals by distant artillery fire. The moon was out and full. Its pale gray light provided near-perfect visibility of the hill across the valley. Many of the smashed Soviet vehicles still glowed bright red. Fires in the village continued but had died down. Everything else was quiet and peaceful. The casual observer would have been hard pressed to find any sign of life in the valley. It was amazing how quiet hundreds of men, intent on killing each other, could be.

Folk was manning the fifty when Bannon reached 66. Ortelli was asleep in the driver's compartment, and Kelp was lying out asleep on top of the turret. The image of the severed arm and wounded men at 55 flashed through Bannon's mind. Looking at Kelp lying there, exposed to artillery fire and anything else the Soviets might throw at them, he regretted not requiring the tank crews to dig foxholes. He would have to see that that was corrected. At least Kelp had his protective mask on. If nothing else, he was protected from a surprise chemical attack.

He relieved Folk and told him to get a few hours sleep. They would then switch off until stand-to. If the lull continued after stand-to, he would issue his complete order during a working breakfast, then get some more sleep. It was a good plan and he prayed like hell he could implement it. For the next two hours Bannon stood there, alternately fighting sleep and boredom. He had to change his position every five minutes in order to stay awake and semi-alert. Every hour on the hour 66 and the rest of the tracks would crank up their engines to recharge their batteries. They didn't all come up together but it was close enough. If every vehicle ran its engine on its own, the Soviets would be able to pinpoint every track by the sound of the engines. By running them together, that became more difficult. Once finished, Ortelli would immediately crash back into a deep sleep. Bannon began to wonder what was happening on the other side of the hill. Even with the muffled rumble of artillery in the distance and the smoldering remains of combat vehicles in the valley before him, it was difficult to think that they were at war. From the Baltic Sea to the Austrian border almost three million men were facing each other, preparing to hack away at the enemy on the other side of the valley, or across the river, or in the next village.

He tried to imagine what the young Russian company commanders were doing in the 28th Guards Tank Division. No doubt they were going over in their minds how they would seize their objectives, trying to guess where their enemy would be and how they would deal with the U.S. forces once they were encountered. He knew enough about Soviet tactics to appreciate that their company commanders had few decisions to make. The regiment made most of the decisions. The battalions and companies simply carried out the orders using fixed formations and battle drill. That made it a lot easier on the Russian company commander. But, if the end results were attacks such as the two Team Yankee had smashed yesterday, Bannon wanted no part of a system like that. Even if he didn't get all the support he wanted, at least he had some control in deciding how to crack the nuts Team Yankee had been given. His only worry now was whether he had guessed right and come up with the best possible plan.

At about 0130 he woke Folk. The gunner needed a few minutes to get himself together.

Bannon considered waking Kelp and putting him out as an OP, but that would have left him out there alone and it was a cardinal sin to place one-man outposts. The 3rd Platoon OP to the left and the Mech Platoon OP to

the right covered 66. Each tank was supposed to have half of its crew up and alert. But he saw no useful purpose in waking Kelp. In a moment of weakness, he let him sleep.

Once Folk was ready, they switched places. Rather than Folk rolling up his sleeping bag and Bannon rolling out another, they hot bunked with Bannon using Folk's sleeping bag tonight. It was a normal practice in a tactical environment. Besides, he was ready to crash and didn't feel like screwing around with gear.

With pistol at arm's reach, protective mask on, and the sleeping bag pulled over but not zipped, he could finally let his mind go. The enormousness of the events of the day quietly slipped away. But in their place, personal concerns crept in, concerns and thoughts that had been pushed aside

by the needs of Team Yankee. Now, with Team Yankee's needs taken care of for the moment, Bannon's concern about the safety and welfare of his wife and three children could no longer be denied. Where was his family? Had they made it out? Were the air fields still open? Was someone protecting them and caring for them? When would he find out about them? Only sleep quieted the Team commander's troubled mind.

CHAPTER FOUR.

Into the Vacuum.

The quiet chatter of the evacuees watching the loading of the C-141 was drowned out by the blast of air raid sirens. Everyone froze in place, looking at her companions to the left and right, not knowing what to do. An Air Force sergeant began to run up along the window yelling for everyone to get back and down on the floor facing away from the windows. The Air Base would be under air attack in a minute.

Like a deer in a forest fire, Pat turned and looked for a way to safety. She noticed that the stairs leading down to the flight line had a solid wall on both sides. While not offering complete cover, they would be protected from flying glass. Pat yelled to her group to follow her, grabbed Sarah, and ran for the stairs. At the top of the stairs, Pat told everyone to go halfway down and get against the wall on the air field side. When everyone was accounted for and on the stairs, she followed.

The children huddled against the adult they were with and held their hands over their ears.

They all had a look of sheer terror on their faces. Kurt, Sarah, and Jane's baby were crying, Kurt pleading with his mother to make the noise stop. Pat and the other women were barely able to hold back their screams.

From outside in the distance soft muffled explosions of air defense weapons could be heard above the wailing of the siren. The detonations grew closer at an alarming rate. They were joined by the pop-pop-pop of more antiaircraft guns. Just outside the terminal the report of a gun that sounded like a chainsaw joined in. Then, the first bombs impacted. A series of crashing explosions outside was mixed with the sound of shattering glass and screams of women and children on the second floor. Now all the children were crying and screaming.

Fran pulled Sean and Debby in closer. Sue, tears running down her face, held on to Kurt, trying to cover his ears and face. Jane and Pat did the same with their babies. Just as the tinkling of glass and the screams from upstairs began to subside, another series of bombs went off closer to the terminal, blowing out more glass and causing the screams to begin anew.

They were going to die. They were all going to die. This trip was no longer one of inconvenience and discomfort. It had become a life and death ordeal. Any second now the next series of bombs could hit the terminal and they would all be dead. Pat was horrified.

What had she ever done to deserve this? What harm had her children ever done to anyone?

What purpose would their deaths serve? It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Pat began to weep and rock Sarah in a vain attempt to comfort her baby.

At the height of the bombing, an Air Force officer without a hat came running in from the flight line and began to run up the stairs. He noticed the group and stopped. He looked at them for a moment, then yelled, "YOU PEOPLE, FOLLOW ME. QUICKLY!"

Pat looked at the officer, the other women looked at Pat. The officer reached down and grabbed Pat's arm. "COME ON. FOLLOW ME. I'M TAKING YOU OUT OF HERE NOW. "

Pat thought anywhere would be better. There must be a shelter the officer was taking them to under the terminal. Pat got up and yelled to her group to follow the officer. Fran told him to carry Sean while she picked up Debby and began to follow. Pat waited to make sure that her group was in motion before she followed, taking up the rear.

Pat reached the bottom of the stairs and turned the corner. To her horror she saw that the officer had gone out of the door and was running out onto the flight line. The rest of her group was following obediently. What were they doing? Was that man mad? Why are we going away from shelter? After a brief moment of hesitation, she ran after them. She had to. The officer had Sean and Sue had Kurt. She had to go.

Once outside the pop-pop-pop, the detonations, and the gun that sounded like a chainsaw became louder. The giant C-5 that had been taxiing up to the terminal had been hit and was now burning and shaking from explosions, its huge wings drooping down to the ground like an injured bird: Together with the siren, it drowned out the officer's voice when he turned to scream something to them. Pat saw the C-141 beyond him. He was running straight for it.

He was going to get them out of here. Pat's heart began to beat faster as she picked up her pace. A chance to survive. A chance to escape this madness. This was it. She would use whatever reserve she had left on this one last effort. All or nothing.

The group ran. The officer began to swerve to avoid a shell crater on the flight line. The line of women followed. As they swerved around the next crater, Fran suddenly stopped dead, causing Sue to ram into her from behind. The officer saw her stop, turned, and ran back. Pat caught up and looked down.

There in front of the women were the remains of several bodies tossed about the flight line.

The brightly colored clothing was civilian, not military. Some of the people headed for the C-141 before the attack had been caught in the open and killed. The officer had come back for more evacuees to take their place.

Pat looked up, saw the officer coming back with Sean. No, she wasn't going to let anything go wrong this time. Every step of the way during this evacuation had been screwed up.

Now,.when they were only a few feet away from their means of salvation, Pat was determined they were going to finish this trip. Pat pushed Fran and yelled at her to go. When Fran began to run, Pat pushed Sue along behind her. Jane followed. The officer stopped, let Fran catch up to him, then grabbed her with one arm and pulled her along. The crew chief of the C-141 came down the ramp and

helped the women up. Another airman inside pushed them over to some empty nylon seats arranged along the sides and middle of the aircraft's cavernous body. As soon as they were all on board, the officer handed Sean to the crew chief who threw the boy on a seat and buckled him in. The officer then ran down the ramp and back to the terminal. He was halfway there when the closing ramp shut out the view of the shattered flight line.

The crew chief and airman buckled in the new arrivals as the plane began to roll. The dark interior of the aircraft was full of women and children. Their sobs inside and the sound of the air attack outside were drowned out by the roar of the engines. It sounded and looked as if they were inside of

a huge vacuum cleaner.

The plane picked up speed. The pilot was just as anxious to leave as Pat was. The lift-off was quick and steep, causing a chain reaction as everyone was thrown sideways into the person seated next to her. When the pilot quickly leveled the plane, everyone was thrown back towards the front. The climb hadn't been much. Pat turned and looked out a small porthole-like window behind her. The plane was skimming along at tree top level and moving fast. The pilot apparently didn't want to go high and become mixed up in the air battle.

Pat turned and surveyed her little group. There was a blank, emotionless stare on the face of every woman and child. They were drained, exhausted, listless. The climax of their ordeal had finally succeeded in beating the last bit of energy and emotion out of them. The long flight home was made in silence, only the steady drone of the engines filling the cavelike interior.

Bannon was not ready to wake. It was too soon, far too soon to end his retreat from reality and misery. Even with the protective mask on and lying on the hard turret roof, the sleeping bag was too comfortable to surrender without a struggle. It was too damned soon to get up.

But Folk was persistent. As soon as he registered a muffled obscenity and some independent movement on his commander's part, he stopped shaking. In less than thirty minutes it would be dawn. The second

day of World War III; and just as difficult to greet as the first had been.

The pain from sleeping on a hostile surface, the dullness of the mind from too little sleep, and the realization that this day would be no better than the last was a poor way to begin the day.

Sitting up, he leaned forward and squinted at Folk, trying to see if he was masked. Satisfied that he wasn't, Bannon removed his protective mask, the cool morning air hitting his face.

After sweating for two hours with the rubber mask against his skin, the air felt like a slap in the face. Looking around, he saw Kelp stowing his gear. Folk ordered Ortelli to crank up the tank. It was 0400. In the dark forest, the sound of other tracks doing likewise could be heard.

At least some of the Team was awake and alert. As soon as Bannon was ready to climb down to his position, Folk slid to the gunner's position. Still groggy but at least functioning, the crew went through their checks while they waited for stand-to and the new dawn.

Computer checks. Weapon checks. Thermal sight check. Engine readings and indications.

Ammo stowage and count. The 66 tank was ready.

Just before dawn, Lieutenant McAlister called. He and his platoon were observing a group of six to eight personnel in the woods across the valley from them. Early morning is the best time for detecting targets with the thermal sight because the ground and trees lack any warmth from the long absent sun. McAlister wanted to engage with the platoon's caliber

.50s. Bannon vetoed that idea and opted to hit the intruders with artillery instead. That way they would cause the same amount of damage, or more, without having any of the Team's tanks expose themselves. His best guess was that the dismounted intruders were there in order to locate the Team and either call in and adjust artillery or engage with antitank guided missiles. Either way, they had to go.

McAlister contacted the FIST Team. Using a known target reference point to shift from, he provided Unger with the location of the target and what the target was. Bannon cut into the conversation and instructed Unger to fire at least

three volleys of artillery with mixed fuze settings of superquick and delayed. The superquick fuze setting would go off as soon as the round hit the tree branches, creating an air burst effect and showering shell fragments down on exposed personnel. The delayed fuze setting would burrow into the ground, hopefully getting anyone in foxholes. The FIST replied that he would try. Bannon told him to try hard.

The call for fire took close to five minutes to process. At this hour, it was not surprising.

Everyone waited impatiently, hoping that the Russians didn't leave before the artillery hit. It was almost as if they were preparing to spring a prank on another fraternity. They knew it was coming and the other people didn't. But this prank was deadly. In a very few moments, some of the other "fraternity" brothers would be dead. The more, the better. Maybe they wouldn't come back.

To the rear of Team Yankee the low rumble of the firing guns could be heard as the FIST

called, "SHOT-OVER" on the Team net. McAlister replied, "SHOT-OUT." Unger's call of

"SPLASH-OVER" was drowned out by the detonation of the impacting rounds.

In an excited, high-pitched voice, McAlister called, "TARGET-FIRE FOR

EFFECT-TARGET-FIRE FOR EFFECT." In the excitement of the moment, he forgot that they were, in fact, firing for effect. From 66, Bannon could see the impact through the trees.

He wanted to move forward to observe but knew that would serve little purpose and unnecessarily expose 66. So he sat where he was, having to content his morbid curiosity by listening to McAlister's reports.

The guns to the rear boomed again, followed by another series of impacts. The rounds with superquick fuze settings burst high in the trees with a brilliant orange ball of fire. For a split second, it lit the surrounding trees and area like a small sun. Then it died as fast as it had appeared. Anyone staring at the blast lost his night vision. In the place of clear images there was only the fading afterimage of the bright orange blasts engraved in their eyes. The final volley was no less spectacular.

As Bannon waited for the results, he began to hope that the results would be worth the efforts of the artillery. More was involved than merely the act of making the calculations, preparing the rounds, laying the guns, and shooting twentyfour rounds. The firing battery now had to displace rapidly. If the Russians were alert, their target acquisition people would have picked up the flight of these incoming rounds. With some calculations of their own, they would be able to locate the guns and fire counter-battery fires. It was therefore important for the artillery to keep moving. Shoot'n scoot was a popular way of putting it. In modern combat you're either quick or you're dead. There is no middle ground.

After observing the area for ten minutes, McAlister reported that neither he nor any other tank in his platoon could detect any more movement in the target area or to the left or right.

Bannon therefore reported to battalion that they had engaged and probably killed eight dismounted personnel. Whatever those people had been doing or planning to do, they weren't going to do it to Team Yankee this morning. The efforts of the cannon cockers were rewarded.

The Soviets were also placing demands on their artillerymen early that morning. The American guns barely had fallen silent when the sky to the east was lit up with distant flashes, followed by the now familiar rumble of enemy artillery. At first, Bannon thought that it was counterbattery fire searching out the guns that had just fired for the Team. But the distant crash of the impacting rounds drifted down from the north, not from the rear. After watching and listening to the barrage for five minutes and unable to detect any sign of letup, it became obvious that this was more than counterbattery fire. In all likelihood, it was the preparatory fire for the attack of the 28th Guards Tank Division.

The night slowly gave way to the new dawn as the Soviet artillery preparation to the north continued. First Sergeant Harrert appeared with breakfast, passing the word to the track commanders to send half of their men at a time back for chow. At first Bannon was apprehensive about allowing the men to dismount for breakfast. He was fearful that the enemy

would launch another holding attack against them as they had yesterday. If not a ground attack, he at least expected the Soviets to pin the battalion down with artillery. But nothing happened. Perhaps the Soviets didn't have any more units they could throw away in useless holding attacks. Perhaps the people the Team had hit with artillery across the valley were antitank guided missile teams or artillery forward observers who had the mission of pinning the battalion. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. As the platoon leaders began to gather for the early morning meeting, he gave up on the second guessing. No one was shooting at him or the Team right now and that was all that mattered.

The leadership of Team Yankee gathered around the rear of the first sergeant's PC, map case and notebook tucked under arm, breakfast and coffee in hand as they had done just twenty-four hours earlier. But this morning there was a difference. The nervous apprehension of yesterday was gone. There was a slightly haggard and disheveled look from too little sleep and too much stress. That was to be expected. Today, however, there was also a

look of confidence on everyone's face, a calm, steady look. In the words of

Civil War veterans, they had seen the elephant and had changed forever. It didn't matter that they had been incredibly lucky, that the task had been simple and straightforward. It didn't matter that the new mission was going to turn the tables around and expose the Team to the same punishment that it had given to the Soviets. What did matter was that they had won their first battle and any doubts as to equipment, leadership, and each individual's perceived ability to face combat had been temporarily put aside. The Team was ready to move forward and tackle its new mission. The meeting started with a discussion of the previous day's action. Just

as

they had done numerous times after a training exercise, the leaders went over step by step what had happened. First the platoon leaders gave their account and observations. Then Bannon gave his. They briefly discussed what needed to be done better the next time. With that aside,

Bannon issued the completed Team operations order that he had worked on earlier that morning. After he finished, Unger went over the fire-support plan in detail and answered any questions. Finished with that, Bannon informed the platoon leaders that he would visit each of them for a one-on-one brief back of their platoon plans. In the meantime, they were to prepare for the attack.

As he prepared to turn the meeting over to the XO and first sergeant so that they could cover the Team's admin and maintenance chores, a call from battalion put an end to his plan to catch up on some sleep. There was going to be a meeting in thirty minutes at the battalion CP to go over the new mission. Not wanting to move 66 out of position, he decided to use Harrert's PC. While the platoon leaders moved and the PC prepared to roll, Bannon quickly shaved and washed his hands and face. Cleaning up was going to make him late, but it was a matter of pride that he look as sharp as possible. He might be miserable, but he didn't have to look miserable. Standards had to be preserved.

The lack of change at the battalion CP struck Bannon as odd. He really couldn't say what should have been different. But something should have been. Back at Team Yankee he could feel the change that had occurred between yesterday morning and this morning. At the CP, all was still running as if a training exercise was being conducted. The M-577 command post vehicles were parked side by side with their canvas tent extensions set up and connected. A massive camouflage net covered the tracks and extensions. Around this was barbed wire with one entrance guarded by a soldier checking access passes as staff officers and other commanders entered the tactical operations center, or TOC. Somehow, things should have been different.

While the outside was quiet and peaceful, the inside was utter chaos. There were staff officers and NCOs busily updating and preparing their maps and charts for the briefing.

Team commanders were in one corner talking and joking. The battalion commander and his XO sat in the middle talking over maintenance and supply matters. All the running around, confusion, and last-minute preparation by the staff made Bannon wonder what they had been doing all night. But that wasn't really hard to figure out. The lack of haggard faces and bags under eyes betrayed the fact that late nights and little sleep were not part of their daily schedule. He wondered how long that would last.

Off to one side by himself was First Lieutenant Peterson, formerly the XO, now the commander, of Team Bravo. In sharp contrast to the staff and the other commanders, his uniform and gear were dirty and disheveled, his expression gaunt and without emotion.

Bannon watched for a few minutes while Peterson simply sat there, staring at his notebook.

Everyone in the crowded TOG was making a valiant effort to ignore him, even to the point of taking the long way around if they had to go from one end of the center to the other. He had been under fire and his team had been hit hard. Those who hadn't "seen the elephant" yet didn't know how to treat him, so they left him alone. Ignored him was more correct.

Bannon felt sorry for Peterson. Yesterday had been an emotional nut roll for Team Yankee despite the fact that he had been in command for ten months and had been training for what happened. It must have been hell for Peterson to watch his team get ripped to shreds, then be given the job of putting the remains together again. The treatment the staff was giving Peterson was, Bannon felt, cold and inappropriate.

The battalion XO, Major Willard, began by going over the briefing sequence and then instructed the intelligence officer, or S-2, to start. With pointer in hand and every hair in place, he began to talk about the big picture. He talked about how the "hostile forces" had

"initiated hostilities," how this combined arms army was driving here and that combined arms army was pushing there and some tank army was moving forward ready to exploit the penetration to our north.

The situation in NORTHAG, or Northern Army Group, was grim. Soviet airborne forces had seized Bremerhafen. Soviet ground forces were making good progress and had broken through in several areas. In CENTAG, Central Army

Group, the situation wasn't nearly as bad. Both forwarddeployed U.S. corps were in CENTAG. While one could immediately claim that U.S. forces made the difference, anyone who understood the overall strategy knew better. The terrain in NORTHAG was more conducive to massed, mobile warfare than the hilly, heavily forested south. The North German Plain provided a natural highway for armies to flow from the east to the west through Germany into Holland, Belgium, and France. By luck of the draw and post-World War II agreements, the U.S. had the easiest and least important area to defend. Bannon sat waiting patiently to hear about the enemy forces that were across the valley from the Team and the composition, locations, and strength of the forces in the area where the battalion was going to attack. He wanted to know about nuts and bolts, and the S-2 was lecturing on skyscrapers. When the S-2 finished and turned to sit down without mentioning a thing about the Soviet forces they faced or were going to face, Bannon half jumped out of his seat.

"Wait a minute! What about the people across the valley from us? What are they doing now and what do you expect them to do?"

For a moment, the S-2 looked at Bannon as if he didn't understand the question. "Oh. Well, I don't think they will be doing much after the pounding we gave them." He continued to his seat.

Bannon was livid! The pounding we gave them! "What kind of a bullshit answer is that? And what's this we shit? Except for a few shots from the scouts, I only know of one team that engaged the 'hostile forces' yesterday."

In a flash, the battalion commander jumped up and turned to face Bannon. With his index finger almost touching Bannon's nose and his face contorted with rage, he laid into him.

"That will be enough, Bannon. If you got a burr up your ass about something, you see me after this. We got a lot to cover and not a lot of time. Is that clear?"

Bannon had overstepped his bounds, lost his cool, and offended Colonel Reynolds and his staff. But he wasn't going to buckle under either. The S-2 hadn't given him a single piece of useful information that would contribute to the success of the upcoming mission.

Bannon wanted that information. "Sir, with all due respect, the S-2 hasn't told me squat about the enemy now facing me or those we will be attacking. I need to know what they are doing and where they are if we're going to pull this attack off."

"With all due respect, Captain, I recommend that you shut up and pay attention." The battalion commander had spoken, and the conversation was terminated. Without waiting for any sign of acknowledgement, he turned around and sat down, instructing the S-3 to proceed. Chances were the S-2 really didn't know what was happening anyway. Bannon dropped the matter. The battalion S-3 stood up, prepared to present his portion of the briefing. Maj. Frank Jordan, the S-3, was an outstanding officer and a professional by any measure. He more than made up for the shortcomings of the other battalion staff officers and was the real driving force behind the battalion. Colonel Reynolds might make the final decisions and do the pushing in the field, but it was Jordan who developed the battalion's game plans and made all the pieces fit. He also was easy to work with. After waiting a moment until everyone was settled again, he began his briefing. The organization of the battalion, or task force, as a battalion with tanks and infantry companies combined is called, remained as it had been from the beginning. The friendly situation, or the mission of the units to the battalion's left and right as well as the mission of the battalion's higher headquarters, hadn't changed from what the S-3 had briefed last night. "Our mission is as follows: Task Force 3-78 Mech will attack at 0400 hours Zulu 6 August to seize the town of Amsdorf. The task force will then continue the attack to the north to seize the high ground south of Unterremmbach, northeast to the bridge at Ketten am Der Hanna or west against objects yet to be determined."

Jordan then began to explain the plan of how the battalion would carry out its new mission. It was basically the same plan that he had explained the night before. The main difference was that he tied together a lot of the loose ends and

explained what would happen after the battalion got to Arnsdorf. They would be relieved in place that night by the divisional cavalry squadron starting at 2400 hours Zulu. One company at a time would pull out of line and begin to move north toward the new area of operations.

Team Bravo, now in reserve, would lead the battalion. Team Yankee would be the first unit to pull out of

line, followed by company C and company D in that order. Once the battalion was closed up on Team Bravo, it would move north. The route was not the most direct, as division wanted to deceive the Soviets as to the intent of the battalion and the point of attack for as long as possible. If all worked out as planned, they would arrive at the line of departure, or LD, on time and would roll straight into the attack without stopping.

The battalion would attack in columns of companiesone company behind the other. When they approached the town of Kernsbach, they would leave the road and move cross-country.

Just east of Kernsbach they would pass through the U.S. front lines and begin to deploy.

Team Bravo would move to the high ground northeast of Kernsbach and take up overwatch positions in the northern edge of the Staat Forest, from which it would be able to cover the movement of Team Yankee. Major Jordan did not expect that Team Bravo would encounter any sizable enemy forces during this maneuver. If there were any enemy force, they would be reconnaissance and would give ground quickly. Once Team Bravo moved into position, Team Yankee would be in the lead. Team Yankee, followed by company C and overwatched by Team Bravo, would first attack and seize an intermediate objective called Objective LOG

located midway between the line of departure, Team Bravo's location, and Arnsdorf. Once Team Yankee had cleared Objective LOG, company C would turn west and seize the village of Vogalburg. Company D, the trail company, would close up behind Team Yankee once company C was out of the way. Team Yankee was not to stop but was to continue to move north to Hill 214, called Objective LINK. From the north slopes of Hill 214, Team Yankee would take up positions to overwatch company D,

much the same as Team Bravo had done for Team Yankee before, and cover the attack of company D as they moved in and seized Amsdorf. Once in Amsdorf, the brigade commander would then decide where the battalion would strike. This would depend upon the situation at that time and the reactions of the Soviets to an attack into their flank.

There were aspects of the plan that made Bannon uneasy. The total lack of information on enemy strength and disposition was number one on his list. The seizure of Vogalburg by company C appeared to be unnecessary and dangerous. They would be out there alone, unable to receive support from other battalion elements. Their presence in Vogalburg would, however, protect the left flank of Team Yankee as it was moving to Hill 214. So he didn't raise any objections over that issue.

The issue he did object to was the lack of artillery preparation on Objective LOG. That position was just too good a position not to be occupied by the Soviets. When the S-3

finished and asked for questions concerning the execution of the mission, Bannon recommended that a short but violent artillery prep followed by smoke be put on that objective. Both the S-3 and the colonel denied the request, stating that the element of surprise would be lost. Apparently, they expected the attack to be so fast that anyone there would be unable to react in time. Besides, they assured Bannon that Team Bravo would be in overwatch and artillery would be ready to fire if needed. Unger and he exchanged glances. After his tiff with the S-2, anything Bannon said was bound to be wrong, and he was not in the mood for another public flogging by the colonel.

The S-3 was followed by the battalion S-4, who briefed on the current status of supply and maintenance, supply routes, and a myriad of other details. As they were all covered in a written order that they had been handed, Bannon tuned him out. He began to go over the map sitting in his lap, looking at the operation again from beginning to end in an effort to make sure he understood all of the missions and tasks Team Yankee had to perform. There is nothing worse than to leave a battalion briefing, go back to the company, give an order, then have one of the platoon leaders ask a question on a point that had been missed. As they were playing for real this time, Bannon wanted to make damn sure that he didn't miss anything.

The colonel's rousing "Let's go kick ass and take names" speech at the end of the briefing brought Bannon back to the here and now. Reynolds knew he had not been paying attention to the last portion of the briefing and especially to his "go get 'em" speech. Bannon didn't really care. His Team was only an attachment, a very bothersome one at that, and therefore he was expected to be somewhat different and a bit of a maverick. Today had been a good case in point. With the company C commander chanting obscene ranger chants, the briefing broke up.

On his way out, Bannon briefly stopped in front of the intelligence map to see if there was any useful information he could glean from it. The S-2 watched him as if he expected Bannon to turn and attack. After studying the red lines and symbols for a couple of minutes without being able to find anything of use, he gave up and left. Team Yankee would find out soon enough what was there, the hard way.

The balance of the day passed rather slowly. After arriving back at the Team position, Bannon made another analysis of the terrain they would be covering. Satisfied that he had gotten as much as he could from his map,

he

rewrote those parts of the plan that had changed because of the briefing at

battalion and the second map study. In reality, not much had changed. A few new artillery targets, a better concept for crossing the stream west of the village of Lemm, and some more information on what would happen after Arnsdorf was all. With that finished, he sent Kelp with word to the platoon leaders that they were to assemble at 66 at 1300 hours for an update and further instructions.

Throughout the morning the Team had gone on about its business in a slow and deliberate way. After stand-to, the checks and inspections that had not been performed while waiting for the dawn were completed. All problems that turned up were reported to the platoon sergeants, who in turn

reported them to the first sergeant, who in turn reported them to maintenance personnel.

There were several tanks being worked on when Bannon returned from battalion.

Once the checks were complete, the weapons were cleaned. First, the crew-served weapons. Every tank and personnel carrier had one M2 caliber .50 machine gun, called a Ma Duce. It was the same heavy machine gun the Army had used in World War II and was still one of the best. This was the tank commander's weapon. Then there were two 7.62mm machine guns, M240s,

on

each tank. These were of Belgian design and were good weapons. One was located next to the main gun, mounted coaxially with it, hence its nickname "COAX." The second M240 was mounted on a free-swinging mount outside the loader's hatch. The loader had little need for a weapon as his primary job was to feed the main gun. But since the loader's M240 was interchangeable with the COAX, it had value. Besides, it gave the loader something to hang onto when the tank was moving.

While some of the platoon were working on the machine guns, three or four of the men went around cleaning out the main guns with a twenty foot rammer staff topped with a bore brush.

It took three to four men to maneuver the staff and then ram the tight-fitting brush down the gun tube. Rather than have each crew assemble its own staff, the platoon sergeant had one tank, usually his, put one together and then had one man from each crew on the detail. It was efficiency and teamwork in action.

After the tanks and the personnel carriers with all their crew-served weapons were squared away, each man's individual weapon was cleaned. For the tankers, this was a caliber .45

pistol for the tank commander and the gunner. The driver and loader each had a .45 and a caliber .45 M3 submachine gun. This last weapon also was a veteran of World War II, but it

had not aged as well as the M2 machine gun. Some said the M3 was worthless. Bannon always considered that rating too generous.

Only after all the equipment had been squared away were the men free to tend to their personal needs and hygiene. The Team worked under the old cavalry principle, "The horse, the saddle, the man." The men understood this and for the most part abided by it. The majority on the second day wished they were elsewhere, but they were not elsewhere, and the war wasn't going away. They didn't know what was going to happen next, but they did realize that their best chance of survival was to stay with the Team. They knew what the Team was doing, and there was safety in numbers. What lay behind the hills to the front and rear was now a mystery that none were interested in exploring. They wanted to stay with the Team, and to stay with the Team, their track and weapons had to work. There was no false patriotism, no John Waynes, only tankers and infantrymen doing their jobs and surviving.

Except for some sporadic shelling by the Soviets, the afternoon passed quietly. The tank commanders and squad leaders kept half of their men on alert while the rest slept. After the 1300 hour meeting with the platoon leaders, Bannon was able to catch up on some personal needs. Washing from head to toe was a priority. After twenty-four hours in the chemical protective suit, he was ripe. The only reason no one else had noticed was because they were equally dirty and smelly. It had only been at the battalion CP that he had noticed how filthy he was in comparison to people who were not-the battalion staff. At battalion, however, he really hadn't cared if he had offended anyone. Once clean again, he let Uleski know that he was checking out of the net and finally took time to get some sleep. His sleep lasted exactly forty-five minutes. The cavalry troop commander and platoon leaders from the troop that would be relieving the Team that night showed up for coordination and a reconnaissance. They were from B troop 2nd of the 14th Cavalry, the divisional cavalry squadron. He had met the troop commander several times before so he was surprised when a tall, lanky first lieutenant introduced himself as the troop commander. Bannon asked what had happened to the man he had met and was told that he was missing in action.

The former troop commander had given the order for the troop to withdraw and after that was not seen again. He, his

personnel carrier, and its crew had all disappeared while they were moving back to their next position. This put a chill on the coordination meeting and the recon. Conversation was limited to simple questions and answers as to the positions, enemy activities, and the lay of the land. As soon as the first lieutenant was satisfied that he had all the information he needed, he

and his platoon leaders left.

Towards dusk the Soviets became really restless and began a massive shelling to the rear of the Team. Everyone either buttoned up in his tracks or made friends with the bottom of his foxhole as scores of shells screamed overhead, searching for targets in the battalion's rear.

Their fears were only partially relieved by the fact that it could have ,been worse; those shells could be hitting the Team itself. They waited patiently, alert and ready for either a ground attack or a shift in the artillery fire onto their positions. Given a choice, the ground attack was the more inviting prospect. At least they could do something to the attacking troops. The enemy was in the open. He could be seen, hit, and destroyed. That wasn't true of artillery. Of course friendly artillery could direct counterbattery fires against the Soviet guns. But that wasn't the same. The Team, the target, would not be able to do anything but hunker down and pray. A ground attack would be better.

As it turned out, neither occurred. As the day finally ended, the Team began to prepare for the move. While the rest of the crew prepared, Bannon pondered the meaning of the prolonged artillery attack. Had the Soviets somehow gotten wind of the planned move? Had they destroyed the roads and bridges to the rear? Had Team Bravo been hit again, or had it been the turn of the battalion CP to see the elephant? Would Soviet artillery strike again while they were moving? He, of course, did not have the answers, and the silence on the battalion radio net remained unbroken. He therefore turned his efforts to a more useful pursuit, dinner.

At 2345 hours the Team started their engines and revved them up to as near normal operating RPMs as possible. As they were not going to have friendly artillery fire cover the noise of the movement, they hoped that by running the engines all together, the Soviets might not notice any change in established habits. Chances of that working for long were slim, however; the high-pitched squeak of a tank's sprockets and the crunching noise of tracks in motion could not be covered. But it was worth a try.

The cavalry troop began to arrive on schedule for the relief in place. They came up along a small trail that ran west to east to the rear of the 2nd Platoon. The 2nd Platoon began the relief by pulling back from the tree line and moving south along the trail. As soon as the 2nd was out of its position and cleared the trail junction, the first cavalry platoon moved in where 2nd Platoon had been. As the 2nd moved farther down the trail, Bannon counted the tanks passing in the darkness. When the fifth passed, he gave Ortelli the order to move. The 66 fell into line behind the last 2nd Platoon tank. The movement of 66, followed by Unger's FIST track, was the signal for the 3rd Platoon to begin its move, and they too swung out onto the trail and began to follow. As with 2nd Platoon, as soon as the last 3rd Platoon tank pulled out, the second cavalry platoon began to move into 3rd Platoon's vacated positions.

The process was repeated with the Mech Platoon, which followed the 3rd. In this way, two companysized units changed places in the dark without a single word other than that between the track commanders and their drivers.

Uleski, leading the Team, hugged the tree line on the northern side of the small valley that the Soviets had tried so hard to reach. When he reached a point about three kilometers west of the village, he moved onto the road and slowly began to pick up speed at a predetermined rate. Had he gone too fast at the beginning, the Mech Platoon at the tail of the column would have been left behind, as they were still hugging the tree line. When the column finally reached the designated march speed, Bannon began to relax. So far, all was going well. The relief had gone off without a hitch and the Team had gotten out of the line without drawing fire. Now they were on the route of march about to hit the first checkpoint along the route on time. This was a good omen.

If the rest of the operation went off this well, it would be a piece of cake.

The drive through the dark countryside was quiet and eerie. The only lights visible were the small pinpricks from the taillights of the tank in front and the blackout drive lights of the tank behind. The steady whine of the tank's turbine engine along with the rhythmic vibrations caused by the tracks had a hypnotic effect. Bannon had to make an effort to pay attention to where they were as the column moved along. Reading a map with a covered and filtered flashlight on a moving tank while trying to pick out terrain features on the darkened countryside was difficult but not impossible. Although Uleski was leading, Bannon needed to monitor exactly where they were at all times as a check on Uleskifs navigation and in case something unexpected popped up. The platoon leaders and platoon sergeants were expected to do the same.

On board the tank all was quiet. Both the Team and the battalion radio nets were on radio listening silence. If the radios were used freely, Soviet radio direction finding units would be able to follow them and keep track of where they were going. Kelp was standing on his seat, halfway out of the turret and facing to the rear of the tank. He was the air guard. It was SOP

that the loader would watch to the rear for air attack and any surprises from that quarter.

Folk, in his seat, was fighting sleep. He was having little success. During a road march the gunner was supposed to cover his assigned sector of observation at all times. But when there is a whole column in front and little prospect of action, it is difficult to maintain a high state of vigilance. But Bannon knew that when he needed him, Folk would be on his sight and ready.

Every ten minutes or so Bannon talked to Ortelli. Marching in column like this is worst for the driver. Not only does he have to fight the hypnotic effects of the steady engine noise and vibration, but he must also keep alert to any changes in the distance and speed of the tank in front of him. Drivers moving in column had a tendency to stare at the taillights of the tank in their front and become mesmerized

by them. When that happens, they are slow to notice a sudden change in distance. Rear end collisions are common under such conditions. Therefore, tank commanders tried to ensure that even if no one else was alert, the driver was.

As they moved deeper into the rear area, other traffic and friendly units began to appear.

The farther back the Team went, the more numerous they became. At first, there were the combat support forces and the artillery units. Team Yankee went past a self-propelled artillery battery lined up but pulled off to the side of the road. Apparently they were waiting for the battalion to pass. Every now and then a single vehicle or a group of three or four trucks would pass headed in the opposite direction toward the front, probably supply vehicles of units still there. At road junctions, MPs directed traffic, alternately letting one vehicle from the battalion column go through, then one from another column on the intersecting road go through. Occasionally the Team would pass lone vehicles on the side of the road. Some were broken down. Some had been destroyed by artillery or air attacks.

The villages the Team passed were now populated with a new class of inhabitants. Signal units, headquarters units, and support units of every description had moved in and set up housekeeping. Night was the time when many of these units came to life to do the majority of their work, especially supply units. They were in a hurry to resupply their units for the next round and get back under cover before the new day brought out the Soviet birds of prey that feed on supply convoys.

It was just after passing through one of these busy little hubs of nocturnal activity that the Team hit its first snag. The 66 lurched to an abrupt halt without warning. At first, Bannon thought they had hit something. Ortelli informed him that they were all right, but that the tank in front had stopped. Bannon watched its dark form for a few minutes, expecting it to move out and continue the march. When it didn't, he became concerned and decided to dismount and walk up to the head of the column. Whatever was wrong, it wasn't serious enough to break radio listening silence. As he dismounted, Folk moved up into the commander's position, just in case.

Bannon was not happy about the disruption in the march but was thankful for the chance to walk around some, stretch his legs, and break the monotony. It was 0345 Alpha time. They had been moving for almost three hours and were scheduled to attack in another hour and fifteen minutes. As he moved up the column, he noticed a lot of activity in front of the Team and in the fields at the side of the road. There were lights on all over just a little beyond the head of the column.

Uleski was already dismounted and talking to some people when Bannon arrived. As he reached the group, he noticed that it was an engineer unit and that the people in front of the column and in the fields beyond were working on sections of a combat bridge.

"Well, Ski, what do we have?"

"Sir, this is Captain Lawson, commander of the 79th Bridge Company." Uleski motioned to a tall captain across from him, then continued, "His people put this ribbon bridge in earlier today. When Team Bravo crossed it, too many tanks got onto the bridge at once and did some damage. Captain Lawson has to close the bridge and repair it before we can pass."

"Captain Lawson, Sean Bannon, commanding Team Yankee. How long is it going to take your people to unscrew the mess some of my tanks made?" Lawson gave him an estimate and a brief explanation of what had to be done and why the work had to be finished before he would chance having any more tanks across. He was hoping to be done within thirty minutes, barring any unforeseen problems. As Lawson seemed to know what he was about, and his people were hustling, Bannon asked him to keep the XO posted, excused himself and Uleski, and let Lawson get on with his work. Both agreed that except for the bridge, everything so far was going very well. Uleski was told to stay at the front and monitor the work on the bridge. Bannon was going to walk down the column and have the tanks disperse and shut down. This halt would give the people a chance to dismount, shake out their legs, and check their tracks. If the engineers finished before he returned, Uleski was to have his driver crank up 55 as a signal.

The crews were slow to respond. They were tired. Perhaps the halt was a good thing. It would give everyone a break. The tanks moved off the road, every other one on the opposite side, and all facing out at a forty-five degree angle. This was a formation called a herringbone, used by mechanized forces at times like this. By the time Bannon had reached the 3rd Platoon, he didn't need to tell the crews any more. The tank commanders began to move their tracks off onto the side in the alternating pattern when they saw the tanks in front of them do so. The entire center of the road was cleared by the time he reached the Mech Platoon.

It was then that it occurred to him that something was wrong. Had C company maintained its time schedule, it should have been closing up behind the Team by now. But there was no one behind the Mech Platoon. The road behind Team Yankee was clear. When the last of the tracks had shut down their engines, he walked about a hundred meters down the road and listened for the whine of C company's personnel carriers. Still night air, an occasional rumble from distant artillery, and the pounding and yelling of the engineers working on the bridge were all that could be heard. After five minutes, he abandoned his vigil and began to walk back to the head of the column. He really didn't know if there was in fact anything wrong. With radio listening silence in effect, he had no way of finding out. Of course, if something really terrible had happened to the rest of the battalion, he hoped someone would take the initiative to break radio listening silence and spread the word. But that was a hope, not a sure thing. Bannon had a bad feeling that things were not going well. Something was wrong, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about whatever it was.

It took Pat's parents a moment to realize that their joyous welcome and enthusiasm wasn't evoking any response. Pat barely acknowledged their presence. She briefly looked at them, softly said, "Hi Mom, Dad," and then turned her head down to look at her children. Sarah hung around her mother's neck, making no attempt to move. Sean leaned against her side and wrapped both hands around the arm Pat held Sarah with. Kurt held her free arm and leaned against her on the other side, head tucked down, sucking his thumb. For an uncomfortable moment, her parents stood there, not knowing what to do or say. Pat's father offered to go get their suitcases while they waited there. Pat's simple response, "There aren't any," made her parents more uneasy. Her father gave her a look, then went to pull the car around to the front of the terminal.

When Pat and her children moved to leave, they moved as one, none of them wanting to let go of the other for the briefest moment. Pat's mother continued to stare, feeling less and less at ease in the presence of her daughter. As they left the terminal, an airman took Pat's name, the children's names, her husband's name and unit, and Pat's destination. The final checklist and roster in their long odyssey.

Outside, Pat and the children climbed in the back seat. Even in the car they continued to hold on to each other. As they pulled away, Pat turned and watched the terminal. They were finally leaving military control. She thought about that for the moment. She thought about the other wives and their children. She looked at her parents in the front seat and began to wonder, Now what? The evacuation was over, but now what? There was nothing more to do.

She was safe. Her children were safe. She was going back to her parents' home. But what then? Wait? Wait for what? For the war to end? For word to come about her husband? And what kind of word? Pat had listened to stories from wives who had waited while their husbands were in Vietnam. She wasn't ready. Even now, safe in the U.S., the dark abyss of the trackless future opened before her. Like an earthen dam that had tried to hold back more

water than it could, her resolve collapsed, and she began to cry. Her children silently tightened their grips on their weeping mother to comfort her and themselves. Her parents in the front seat stared ahead, not knowing what to do or say.

: CHAPTER FIVE.

Hunter and Hunted.

Twenty-eight minutes from the time Bannon had talked to Lawson, 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. He would hold the tank there until the tank on the bridge got off on the far side of the river. When it was 66's turn at the on ramp, Lawson came up to the side of the tank.

"Right on schedule, Lawson. Your people done good. Give 'em an atta boy." "Will do, Bannon. You give those 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. You suddenly find yourself depending on 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 Team Yankee could go about theirs.

Crossing one at a time was a slow process. Uleski kept the pace down until he had determined that the Team had cleared the bridge. He then began to pick up speed slowly until he

reached, then slightly exceeded, the former march speed. All together, Team Yankee was forty-five minutes behind schedule. It was now 0430 hours, Alpha time. The sky in the east was becoming light. They were supposed to be crossing the line of departure in another thirty minutes. Even at best speed, they would not be able to make it. But the tanks could not travel at top speed. If they did, the personnel carriers would not have been able to keep up. It would be useless to arrive on time without the infantry or the FIST. So the Team stayed together and made the best possible speed. What concerned Bannon more than being late, however, was the failure of C company to close up at the bridge. Even as the Team left the bridge site, he kept looking back across the river in the gathering light, searching for a glimpse of anyone else in the battalion. But there was no sign of C company, D company, the battalion CP, or trains. C company was thirty-five minutes behind schedule for some reason. Perhaps the battalion had learned about the problem at the bridge and had diverted C company to another route. If that were the case, C company could be in front of Team Yankee. Or C company could be lost. Or they could be held up in a massive traffic jam in one of the small villages. Bannon didn't have any idea what had gone wrong, but he did know that Team Bravo was in front of Team Yankee, continuing with its mission. Without the faintest idea as to what was going on behind the Team, all he could do was to carry on as ordered. When they closed up on Team Bravo, he hoped someone would be there who knew what was going on or had some new orders.

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 turn off, the tanks to his front began to deploy into another herringbone formation on alternating sides of the road. Bannon turned, signaled the FIST track to pull off, and told Ortelli to drive up to the head of the column and find 55. As 66 came up to the XO's tank, Bannon saw Major Jordan standing on the side of the road next to his PC. 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, the front.

Jordan stood next to Uleski across the road, looking unhappy and impatient to be on his way. He began talking while Bannon was still in the middle of the road. "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 motioned 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?" "Not until, and only if, we get this jug fuck unscrewed. For now, no one

in

this battalion is going to do any attacking. Any other questions?"

"Yeah, where's Team Bravo and any other friendly units?"

"Team Bravo is in position now as planned. 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."

"On the way."

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

As soon as the

platoon leaders were gathered around the map, he gave his orders. "There has been a delay in the attack." The faces of the platoon leaders lit up as if the governor had just given them a last-minute reprieve. "We are going to move into an assembly area to the northeast.

Second Platoon, you deploy here to the north of the road and orient to the west. Third Platoon, you deploy here and orient to the northwest. That will give you two crossing fires.

Be advised, there are friendly scouts and a friendly company team here. So don't shoot unless you're sure they're Russians. 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." "Give it to the XO when we get into the assembly area. Right now let's get off this road before some Russian jet jockey makes us all grease spots." With that, the group scattered and remounted.

The woods of the Staat Forest were easy to move through. It was a typical German forest, with the straight, tall trees well spaced in neat rows. The forest floor was as clear of clutter as if it had just been raked. As the tanks jockeyed into positions and shut down, 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, stretched, and went about taking care of their tanks. The routine called for Folk and Bannon to check out the fire control, while Kelp and Ortelli checked the track and suspension. When the fire-control system was finished, they boresighted the main gun and checked the weapons.

The other crews nearby were beginning to break out their morning meal of dehydrated MREs. Folk 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 and thankful that the road march was over and they had a break. Bannon munched on his cold meal, popping bits of

dehydrated peaches into his mouth, causing his lips to pucker as the peach drew every bit of moisture from his tongue.

He pondered his next actions. It might not be a bad idea to go up to Team Bravo and do a visual recon of the area they were to cross. Objective LOG would be visible, as well as all the terrain the Team would have to cross. He finished all the MIZE that he wanted, stuffed what he wanted to eat later in a pocket, and threw the rest into an empty sandbag tied to the side of the turret that was used for trash. Kelp was sent to fetch Lieutenant Harding and one of his PCs for the recon and to tell Uleski he would be in command while Bannon was away.

Bannon went to gather up the two tank platoon leaders and the artillery FIST himself.

Once everyone was gathered and mounted in the PC, they moved out through the woods.

Bannon didn't want to expose the PC in the open. He also didn't want to come storming up behind Team Bravo and get blown away by a nervous gunner. It took ten minutes to reach Team Bravo. As he had feared, when they sighted each other, there were several weapons of various calibers trained on the track. He immediately stopped and identified himself. This task was made easier by the fact that several of the people in Team Bravo recognized Harding and the PC driver. Once they were accepted as friendly, they dismounted, left the PC to the rear of the position, and slowly moved forward to the north edge of the tree line.

The last few yards were covered on their bellies. From where they stopped, the leaders from Team Yankee could see everything. The village of Lemm was to the right front, the hill that was Objective LOG was directly to the front, and the village of Vogalburg was to the left front in the distance. As they lay there, an infantryman from Team Bravo crawled up behind Bannon 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. Bannon left the platoon leaders and crawled back.

"Bannon, what in the hell are you doing here? Where is your goddamned company? Why are you on this fucking hill and not that one over there?" For a moment, Bannon was dumbfounded, just staring at the colonel, unable to understand why he was so excited. "I don't understand, sir. My Team is in the assembly area where we were ordered to move just south of here. I was waiting for the order to attack."

"Waiting! Waiting! Who the hell told you to wait? We've been up here for the last hour and a half waiting for you."

Bannon still wasn't understanding what was going on, but it appeared that there had been a disconnect between the colonel and the S-3. "Sir, the S-3 told me to put the Team into an assembly area and wait until the rest of the battalion closed up."

"I never gave such an order. The S-3 must have been mistaken. Now I want you to get your people moving and get up to LOG and Hill 214. IS THAT CLEAR?"

The colonel was beside himself with rage, while Bannon was equally angry at the implication that he had screwed up. But that was not the time or place to take up a point of personal honor. The colonel was yelling so loudly that Bannon was positive that his orders were clearly heard by all of the men in Team Bravo and every Russian in the area. "Then I understand that I

am to attack without C company behind me."

"You let me worry about C company. You just get those people of yours moving. Now."

With that, the conversation was over, and the colonel left. Things were going to hell in a handbasket, and the Team was right in the middle of a bad situation. The idea of starting the attack with only half of the battalion on hand was, in

Bannon's mind, insane. He had, however, been given a direct order. The specter of the

"Charge of the Light Brigade" and Pickett's Charge began to loom before him. He had to find an out fast.

As the PC moved back, Bannon's mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to find a way out or around this dilemma. 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. The artillery could still support that maneuver. If the Team took LOG unopposed, they could then maneuver against Hill 214 in a slow and deliberate manner. The colonel told him to move, but he didn't say how fast. If the Team hit some, or a lot of resistance on LOG, he would be able to use his discretion as a commander and hold onto LOG until C company appeared or Team Bravo moved up to support. It was decided, then. Team Yankee would comply but with extreme caution. They were going to take this one step at a time and hope for the best.

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 1 came up to O'Dell and 33."

"What do you mean, left the column? Where are they? Why did you leave the column?"

"Well, sir, you see, it's like this. We weren't on the road an hour before the company we were following made a wrong turn. We began to go in circles, up dirt roads, down 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 turn 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 that 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.

SO i saw o iiyxu, , iui going iv find the company.' I went back, pulled my track, the ambulance track, and the M-88 out of column and took off looking for you. That boy had his head so far up his fourth point of contact that I doubt he knows we left."

"Well, I really wish you could have brought C company with you. Even so, it's good to have you here. You're the first good thing that has 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, turned his head and exclaimed, "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 waiting to see his reaction and how he was going to approach this nightmare. It would serve no one to bitch and moan. The last thing the Team needed right now was for the leadership to go

into a potentially costly operation with a negative attitude. It would take a lot of finesse to convince the platoon leaders and Uleski that they could pull it off. But if Bannon could do it, they would have a fighting chance. With all the positive enthusiasm he could generate, given the mission, he began issuing new orders.

"Gather around and listen up, gents, while I tell you how we're going to skin this cat. 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. We've had a break, boresighted the guns, checked the tracks, had breakfast, and got a chance to recon the area some. Team Bravo is in position and ready. So we will go as we had planned. 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, you'll 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 fire on 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 overwatch the move of 2nd Platoon followed by the Mech Platoon. We will move up onto LINK as planned, 3rd Platoon coming up on order. I'll be between the Mech and 2nd Platoon. Do you have any questions?"

The platoon leaders looked at him, they looked at each other, then looked back to their commander, and shook their heads negatively. "All right then, Lieutenant Harding, I want you to start your move in twenty-five minutes. 1 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. 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 D company comes up. I think that's the only way we can play it.

11

"Agreed. But once we're out in the open, the other people may not like us taking one of their hills and try to take it back. Those Russians get very possessive of land once they take it."

"Yeah, well, that's why I said we are going to have to play it by ear when we get on top of LOG. I don't intend to jump out beyond LOG on our own unless I'm sure we can do so and talk about it tonight. And if you take over, I expect you to do the same. Use your discretion. Clear?"

"Clear, boss. Got any more good news?"

"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 from the Scout Platoon of the 2nd of the 93rd Mech. Take your track, the bandaid, and the 88 over there and let them know what we're about to do. I doubt if anyone else has coordinated with them. If there are mines or some kind of danger that they know about, get on the radio and call me ASAP. Stay there until we get up on LOG, then close up on us on LOG if you can."

"I don't have the 88 with me right now. I left it with 33. But I'll take the bandaid and get moving unless you have something else."

"No, that about covers it all. See you on LOG."

Bannon's positive attitude and confident spiel did little to relieve the doubts and foreboding he had about the upcoming attack. He didn't know if he had sold anyone. He certainly hadn't sold himself. There were twenty-two minutes to go before the Mech Platoon began to move. Time to mount up and wait. As he did so, the crew of 66 watched him. They had heard the orders and didn't look very convinced.

Bannon thought that the old saying, "You can't fool all the people," was true.

Now that the issue had been decided, and the wheels had been set in motion, Bannon was anxious to get on with it. There was still the gnawing fear that they were about to stick their collective neck out and lose their head. It wasn't going to be a peacetime training exercise.

There wouldn't be the after-action critique to discuss who did well and who didn't. This was really it. The graves registration people, either Russian or U.S., would be

the ones sorting out the winners from the losers this time. Still, there was also the possibility that the Team just might pull this off. 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" would say, "Let's do it to them, before they do it to us."

The Mech Platoon began to come even with the rest of the Team. 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 and had a depth of 500 meters. In this formation they could deal with any threat that appeared to the front or to either flank. When they began to pivot on 2nd Platoon and turn north, Bannon saw the first sergeant's track and the bandaid waiting in the tree line behind the scout platoon position. Harrert stood just out from the tree line alone and watched the Team deploy and turn. The first sergeant, whom he had known for several years, was reliable, steady, and a damned good tanker. He was a good man to have near in a tight spot. Bannon wondered for a moment what he

was thinking of as he watched his company roll into the attack. Given the chance, Harrert would have traded places with anyone in the

Team. His company was going into the attack, and he was staying behind. He turned to walk away, went a few paces, stopped, glanced over his shoulder one more time, then disappeared 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 other pleasure from it. The men of his small unit 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 the lieutenant, 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 three tanks in Lemm, they were all alone. 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 before it. The hill that was Objective LOG was directly in front about four kilometers away. The German countryside was lush and green on this August morning, just like any ordinary August morning. There wasn't anything to indicate the fact of a world war.

The very idea that this quiet and beautiful landscape was a battlefield seemed absurd.

But it was a battlefield. As the Team moved out from its last cover, 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. The Team was ready for battle. Guns were oriented to cover their assigned sectors and all but the track commanders were buttoned up and ready for action. Team Bravo and the scouts watched in morbid curiosity, waiting to see what would happen next and thankful that they weren't the ones out in the open.

The other people, the Soviets, also watched. Their reaction was different. They began their scramble to meet the American movement. 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 muchcontested 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 tracks could do that. 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 direct fire. If they were going to be hit, this is where Bannon expected it. 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 dropped down to

the other side. Nothing happened. The PCs rolled on. Perhaps the Russians were waiting for the tanks. Perhaps they wanted to let the PCs go over and let the embankment separate the Team before firing.

Then it was 66's turn. Ortelli slowed 66 until it made contact with the embankment. As soon as the tracks bit into the embankment, he gunned the engine, and 66 began to rise up. Folk, by instinct, 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, and 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 level again. He then reoriented the gun and continued his search for targets.

As 66 continued forward, Bannon turned in the cupola and watched the rest of the Team come over the embankment two at a time. Satisfied that they were not going to be hit there, he turned back to the 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 turned around. The stream was small and shallow but years of erosion had created a ditch some twenty meters wide with embankments a meter high. Ortelli eased 66 down into the streambed, crossed and began to climb the far bank. They were halfway up when the shit hit the fan.

Several flashes from 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 as the tank settled 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 angles, 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 2nd Platoon was entering the streambed and

pulling up. He turned to his left and saw two of the PCs plop back into the streambed. They had also fired their grenade launchers. He turned back to the front. The smoke was beginning to dissipate. Off to the front left about fifty meters from 66, a PC was stopped in the open and on fire. There was a

burning man hanging from the troop door in the back of the vehicle. Bright flames spilled out of the door and the hatches on top. The 66 had been exceedingly lucky. The PC hadn't been.

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 0'CLOCK."

"GUNNER-SABOT-TANK." Bannon dropped down to view through the commander's extension. He couldn't see the target.

"UP! " "FIRE!"

"ON THE WAAAY!"

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

Folk yelled out his sensing of the round he had 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-FIRE AND ADJUST."

"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 artillery.

The hill that was Objective LOG appeared to lift up as the artillery impacted. Bits of trees and fountains of dirt rose up above the tree line.

"BRAVO 3 ROMEO ELEMENTS-

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 bank.

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. The tank that had been to the right of 66 was stopped, half hanging out of the streambed. It was burning and shuddering as its on-board ammo blew up. Second Lieutenant McAlister was dead. The rest of the 2nd Platoon was out and rolling further to the right, firing as they moved. Folk yelled out again. "LOADER-LOAD SABOTTANK!" "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 of which two were definitely tanks. The other two were partially hidden but emitting billowing clouds of flames and black smoke. 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 LOGWE WILL

CONTINUE TO

ATTACK THROUGH-DO NOT DISMOUNT OR STOP ON THE-"

His transmission was cut short by two huge explosions on either side of 66. The tank bucked violently from side to side. He lost his footing and fell to the floor. Kelp reached down to help him as he struggled to climb back up into the

commander's cupola. Kelp yelled over the engine noise, "ARE YOU OK?"

"Yeah. Get ready to man your machine gun!"

"Your face is bleeding."

Bannon took one hand 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. 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.

Tank 66 was on the verge of rolling out of the impact area. To the right there were still two tanks moving. 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 also two tanks still moving and closing up on 66. The missing 3rd Platoon tank was nowhere to be seen. The Mech Platoon PCs were falling 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. That's 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 beyond comprehension. They were now being cut down by the machine-gun fire from 66 and the surviving tanks without being able to hurt the tracks. An RPG just wasn't going to stop an M-l head-on, regardless of how brave the gunner was. Tank commanders began to cut loose with the caliber .50, spraying rounds in wild arcs and patterns and, in general, adding to the mayhem. An American tank would fire an occasional HEAT round, adding to the effect of the friendly artillery that was still impacting on LOG. In another minute, the four tanks that were still with 66 would be on the obj ective.

The destruction of their tanks, the steady artillery fire, and the failure of their RPG gunners to stop the rush of Team Yankee were too much for the survivors. Just as the Team was about to enter the tree line, individual Soviet troops began to flee to the rear. To the right of 66, a hidden Soviet BTR-60 personnel carrier began to back up, seeking to escape. But its movement gave it away, and it was destroyed by a 2nd Platoon tank. Kelp was up on his machine gun, firing at individual Soviet soldiers as they fled helter-skelter to get out of the way.

Just as 66 entered the tree line, a lone Soviet soldier rose up out of a trench not twenty meters to the right of 66 and aimed an RPG straight at Bannon. He 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. The Russian calmly took aim and prepared to fire. He knew he had 66 and there wasn't

a

damned thing Bannon could do to stop him.

But luck hadn't given out yet. The Russian was suddenly kicked 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.

The Soviet lieutenant watched the American tanks rumble by. He was overwhelmed by alternating rushes of fear, anger, and helplessness. All their efforts had been for nothing. The American tanks had ripped through his position as if he hadn't been there.

Catching his breath, the lieutenant began to survey the scene. Some of his men 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 and bounded over to some of his men to rally them and continue the fight.

The five tanks of Team Yankee were now 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 any other positions. Bannon decided to stop and wait for the Mech Platoon. "ALL BRAVO 3 ROMEO ELEMENTS THAT ARE WITH ME-STOP AND FORM A COIL-I SAY

AGAIN-STOP AND FORM A COIL-WE WILL WAIT FOR THE ZULU 77 ELEMENT TO

CLOSE UPOVER."

The other tanks did not 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. Instead of stopping, they were, in fact, beginning to speed up. He called a third time with no luck. To make matters worse, artillery began to fall on them. He assumed it was Soviet but couldn't tell. This caused the other TCs to crouch low in their cupolas and orient to their front as they directed their drivers. Ortelli kept twisting through the woods, alternately trying to avoid artillery and pick a trail through the trees.

As the tanks emerged from the far side of the woods, 66 suddenly slid to the right and stopped with a violent jerk that knocked Kelp and Bannon over to the right. As they tried to regain balance, Ortelli gunned the engine. But 66 did not move. Bannon stuck his head out and saw that they had slid sideways into a shell hole. Ortelli tried again to drive out but failed. They were stuck. And to his front, Bannon watched the last of Team Yankee's tanks, all four, continue to roll on toward Hill 214, Objective LINK.

CHAPTER SIX.

On the Razor's Edge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted to look between the road wheels. The other track was also on. When he reached the rear of the tank, he found mounds of loose dirt the tracks had been building up to their rear. Both tracks had obviously been spinning free. As

he crawled around to the rear of the tank and looked under the hull, he could see the problem. The tank was hung up on a shattered tree that was still partially connected to its stump. As 66 had maneuvered through the forest, it had straddled the shattered tree and driven itself up onto the stump. To make matters worse, there was a shell crater to the right of the tank that the right track had dropped into just as 66 had bellied out on the stump.

The solution to their problem was not going to be simple. If there was another tank around, it would have been easy to hook tow cables to the two tanks and pull 66 off. But all the remaining tanks had run off to Objective LINK. They could sit and wait. Eventually, if the rest of the battalion came along, a tank in Team Bravo or an M-88 recovery vehicle could pull 66

off. But it seemed just as likely that the Russians would show up. Besides, Bannon was the team commander. He had to get back with the Team and regain control, even though the Team was now nothing more than a

reinforced platoon. Also, simply sitting there and waiting to see what happened next was not his style. A solution had to be found. Throwing dirt under the tracks would do no good. The tracks would simply pile it up onto the mounds of dirt they were already building. It was too late to back out. Ortelli had hit the tree at a charge and driven 66 up onto it. Something substantial had to be shoved under the right track so that it could rise up and let the hull clear the stump. But to do that would have required all of them to haul tree trunks and other rubble over to 66. The artillery would surely get some of them. Bannon tried hard to remember what he had been taught at Fort Knox during the Basic Course in the vehicle recovery class. Why in the hell didn't I pay attention to what was going on in that class instead of kicking dirt clods and bullshitting at the rear of the group, he thought. The instructors had always said,

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

What the hell, maybe it would come back as

he

went along. Something had to be done fast.

He climbed back up on the tank, staying as low and as near to the turret as

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

to

the ground near the hammer, then free the other cable and throw it down on the other side.

They then leaped off the right side and took cover. While they lay down on the ground next to the track, Bannon explained what they were going to do. The plan was to hook the tow cables together in front of the tank. They would then wrap the cables around the two tracks at

the front of the tank so that the tow cables stretched from one track to the other. When Ortelli put 66 in forward gear, the tracks would move the cables back along the ground. In the process, the cables would catch on the stump. Hopefully, as the tracks continued to try to pull the cables back, they would stay caught on the stump and pull 66 forward and off the stump and tree. The plan was worth a shot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

TANKS!"

Kelp dropped down and yelled, "HEAT LOADEDUP!"

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

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

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

"ON THE WAAAY!" Folk fired.

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

jerked to the right and staggered to a stop; it had been hit.

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

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

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

SABOT-NOW!" Kelp turned and grabbed the next round.

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

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

Apparently they thought 66 was finished.

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

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

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

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

UP."

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

"ON THE WAAAY!"

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

"SWITCH TO THERMAL!"

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

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

"UP."

"STAND BY TO ENGAGE."

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

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

"FIRE!"

"ON THE WAY!"

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

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

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

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

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

Folk, kneeling on the turret roof, reached down and took Ortelli under the arms and pulled him out as the other two pushed from below. Bannon reminded Kelp to take his submachine gun and the ammo pouch before he exited. Bannon stayed behind to prepare 66 for destruction. Though the engine compartment fire would probably finish off 66, he wanted to make sure that his tank was not going to be displayed in Red Square as a trophy. Bannon opened the ammo ready door and locked it open. He pulled one round out and put it halfway in the main gun's chamber,

then placed several more rounds on the turret floor. He turned the radio frequency knobs off of the Team's frequency. As he really didn't know by whom they would be picked up, he took his CEOI that contained all the radio frequencies and call signs for the brigade and tore the pages out, spreading them around the turret. Satisfied that 66 was ready, he put two frag grenades and one thermite grenade in his pocket and climbed out. Once outside, Bannon threw his CVC down into the turret, put on his web gear, helmet, and binoculars and grabbed his map case. He ordered Folk and Kelp to head for the woods to their right. Once they were on the way, he took the thermite grenade, pulled the pin and dropped it in the loader's hatch among the shells on the floor. He leaped down on the right side of the tank and crouched low, waiting for the first explosion to make sure 66 would burn.

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

the crew. Ortelli and 66 were gone. It was time to carry on.

Folk and Kelp were both lying in the tree line watching 66 burn by the time Bannon caught up. He plopped down next to them and began to watch, too. The tank was fully involved now, burning from front to rear and quivering as rounds cooked off and detonated. Off to the left the T-62s also were burning. He studied the four burning tanks. For the past three days he had thought of the Soviet tanks as nothing more than objects, machines to be smashed, destroyed, or "serviced" as the Army had once referred to the act of engaging targets. But in

"servicing" those "things," they had killed sixteen men and had lost one of their own. The whole scene began to seem unreal. Bannon felt

detached from the horrors and the dangers that surrounded them. It was all like a bad dream. Not real. His head began to spin, and he became nauseated. He turned away and lay on his back, closing his eyes and letting his mind go blank. The nervous stress and the emotional strain, as well as the physical exhaustion, were catching up to him. He was thirsty but too tired to do anything about it. He needed a few minutes alone to get himself together. The sounds of battle to the north from Hill 214 drifted down to their refuge. The boom of tanks firing their main guns rolled over them. Bannon listened for several minutes without thinking or moving. To the south the sounds of small-arms fire could be heard from Objective LOG. The battle there was still going on. The familiar pop pop of the Ml6 firing was answered by rifle reports that were not familiar to his ears. Probably Soviet AKs. It was the high-pitched whine of two personnel carriers approaching that finally got him to move.

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

Without thinking, Bannon began to stand up to wave down the PCs. Just as he was about to straighten up, the closest PC cut loose with a burst from its caliber .50

machine gun. The wild burst ripped through the trees above him, scattering splinters and pieces of bark all over. He dropped down like a ton of bricks. Folk let out a stream of obscenities while Kelp covered his head and curled up, "JESUS CHRIST! THOSE

FUCKERS ARE TRYING TO KILL US!" Still on his stomach and with his face buried in the ground, Bannon raised his right arm and waved frantically. The shooting stopped. He looked up to see both tracks side by side headed for him, guns aimed and ready. He continued to wave as he slowly rose, ready to go down again if they

fired. This time, they didn't. Once the PC commanders were satisfied that they were not facing Russians, they picked up speed and continued toward the tree line. Their guns, however, stayed aimed at Bannon. No one was taking any chances.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The personnel side was better, but not much. The dead and missing included Unger and his entire FIST team, Sergeant Pierson and the 34 tank, as well as Lieutenant Harding, wounded on LOG. That left the XO with the 55 tank, Garger with 31, Sergeant First Class Hebrock with 24 and Staff Sergeant Rhoads with 22. The tanks had nineteen men, including the crew of 66. Polgar had big 23 track with Staff Sergeant Flurer and 2nd Squad and the 24

track with Staff Sergeant Jefferson and the 3rd Squad. Each infantry squad had the driver, track commander, and six men, giving the Mech Platoon seventeen men. Team Yankee was now down to four tanks, two PCs, two Dragons, and thirty-five men.

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

While Uleski and Polgar gathered up the Team leadership, all the track commanders this time, Bannon pondered their options. They could withdraw. As there had been no contact with battalion since the attack had begun and there was little prospect of achieving contact now, withdrawal would be acceptable. Team Yankee was obviously incapable of performing a Team-sized mission because of its losses. Ammunition was becoming critically low and Bannon had no idea when or even if battalion would link up. Although Polgar had informed him that LOG had been cleared, it could have been reoccupied by the Soviets. Only Harding and a few wounded had been left to hold that hill while they waited for Team Bravo to move up. That had not yet occurred when Polgar had left. To stand on Hill 214 and attempt to continue, knowing full well that the Soviets would be back, made no sense. But neither did a simple withdrawal. While there was almost no hope of holding Hill 214 against a powerful counterattack with the Team's current strength, there was no guarantee that the Russians would, or could, counterattack in strength. There was the possibility that they were in just as bad shape as the Team and could not counterattack. They might have pushed everyone forward and left no one to reinforce the flanks. The fact that the three T-62 tanks had to be pulled off the front to reinforce the rear hinted at this. To withdraw and learn later that there had been no

threat would

ensure that the deaths of the men in Team Yankee had been in vain. There was also the chance that the rest of the battalion would finally make it up and continue with the mission. It would be humiliating to be in the process of withdrawing against an imagined foe and run head-on into the rest of the battalion as it advanced up to Hill 214. Not that pride and humiliation were of prime concern to Bannon right now. It was just that such an occurrence was as likely, given his lack of information, as anything else. Besides, the order to seize Hill 214 was still in effect. It was decided, then. Team Yankee had taken this hill and was going to keep it until ordered elsewhere or thrown off. Bannon began to appreciate the old philosophy that once soldiers had paid for a piece of ground with the blood of their comrades, the value of that land became greater and transcended what cold logic would otherwise calculate. For Team Yankee, this ground was important. They would hold.

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

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

While Potecknov was unhappy that his motorized rifle battalion was being diverted from the main effort of the

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

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

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

The two PCs with only the drivers and track commanders under Uleski established an outpost on the crest of Hill 214 watching to the south. The third element was a two-man OP

on the east side of the woods watching the southeast wooded lot. Bannon hoped that if the Soviets came from the south or from the east, the two OPs would be able to give the tanks sufficient warning and time to switch to the alternate positions.

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

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

The OP

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

had to run his dismounted infantry using voice commands, everyone in the Team could contact everyone else.

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

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

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

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

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

war. Garger seemed to be one of them. He was glad that circumstances had prevented his replacing him.

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

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

From the edge of Arnsdorf, Colonel Potecknov, his deputy, his operations officer, and his political officer surveyed the hill to the southeast. They could see the debris of the artillery battery that had been caught in the open as well as the track marks gouged out by the American tanks. He tried to listen for any tell-tale signs of activity from the hill but could not because of the noise his men were making

in the town. He had ordered one company to do so in order to attract the Americans'

attention. If they were watching, which the colonel had no doubt they were, they weren't showing themselves. Turning to his operations officer, he said, "Very well. If the Americans won't show themselves, we will go in and find them. Prepare a patrol."

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

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

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

He

told him also that he was sending the two 2nd Platoon tanks over. Uleski was to organize the defense there but be prepared to send the tanks back if

they were needed. Polgar and his men were to stay put for now, but he was told to be prepared to go either way to reinforce Bannon or Uleski. If the defense of Hill 214 failed, Polgar was to try to get back to his PCs or,

if that was not possible, to escape and evade south on foot as best he could. The odds were not good. They had at least four tanks and

probably more supported by upwards of two hundred infantry. But it was too late to have second thoughts about fighting or fleeing. The Team was committed. With the last light of day gone, all that was left for the Team to do was wait for the Russians to come. They didn't have long to wait.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Check and Checkmate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next group along the trail would be in

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

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

'em, we're ready."

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

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

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

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

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

Once the T-72s were destroyed, Bannon wanted 31 to suppress the infantry while 55 took out the BTRs. Not that a BTR was dangerous. With only a

14.5mm gun in its turret, it could not hurt an M-l. But the destruction of the tanks, the methodical destruction of the BTRs, and a steady stream of lead pinning them to the ground in the darkness and confusion of a night attack would have a severe psychological impact on the individual Russian soldier. Bannon hoped that it would discourage him from rushing forward to become a Hero of the Soviet Union.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There began a deadly game of hide and seek. The Russians, lacking night vision devices, waited until an American infantryman fired. When he fired his first few shots, the Russian would orient his weapon to the general location that he had seen the muzzle flash. If the American

did not move before he fired again, the Russian would take final aim and fire a burst. Doing this, however, exposed the Russians to the same risks and results. So the infantry battle bogged down into a fire fight with sporadic and violent exchanges of gunfire followed by brief pauses as both sides tried to fix new targets, followed again by a new exchange of gunfire as someone found a mark and fired.

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

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

720 meters. Almost there. The tank continued to advance. A large inanimate object whose sole purpose was to kill Americans. Team Yankee. Bannon. The gunner ranged again. 690

meters! "FIRE!"

"ON THE WAAY!"

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

"UP! "

"ON THE WAY!"

Again the flash, the recoil, and the blast announced the firing of a main gun round. Again 55

hit the T-72. Still it kept coming. Not only coming, but returning fire. The 55 shuddered in almost the same instant that the T-72 fired.

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

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

"UPS"

"FIRE!"