Counteroffensive
The sky had turned gray. Another storm looked to dump even more rain on the already-saturated ground. After rain that had lasted for most of October, the cavalry men were hoping to catch a break, so they could get back into the fight. The last month had been a frustrating series of fighting withdrawals, one after another, under relentless Russian attacks. Those attacks, however, appeared to have faltered. Perhaps they had finally come to an end.
Lieutenant Colonel Grant Johnson, of the 1/8 Cav “Mustangs,” walked over to a table in the tent with several thermoses of black liquid gold, pouring himself a second cup of coffee before heading over to brief his company commanders on the latest set of orders they’d just been given. They were finally going back on the offensive. Intelligence reported a major fuel shortage in the Russian Army right now, and the division commander believed this would be a good time to hit the enemy.
“Listen up, everyone,” Johnson announced. “Division has finally given us the green light to attack. Our battalion has been given the task of slicing through the countryside to hit an Indian regiment marshaled roughly 116 kilometers to the southeast of Kraków. The goal is to position a blocking force behind the Russian units in the Kraków pocket and either crush them or force them into surrender. I want everyone to take a few minutes and review the maps and the disposition of the enemy units in the area. The battalion is going to move out in the next hour, so get your men ready to roll.”
His men smiled from ear to ear. They were obviously excited to finally get some payback for all the harassing artillery fire they’d had to endure the past week while being holed up in the rear, waiting for their chance to pounce.
Captain Jason Diss had been the Delta Company commanding officer or CO for nearly twenty months. He was the senior captain in the battalion and would probably be promoted to major at the rate the division had been losing officers. The only reason he hadn’t already been promoted was that the battalion CO needed him and the other senior captain to continue to train and mentor the never-ending supply of second lieutenants who were arriving to the brigade fresh from Armor Basic Officer Leader Course. Big Army was pushing through officers of all stripes at a prodigious rate, which meant there was a lot of pressure on the captains and majors to help get these young officers up to speed.
Walking back to where his company had been staging, he quickly huddled his platoon leaders and NCOs, so he could go over their objectives and the battalions. He wanted everyone on the same sheet of music when the band started to play. Once the shooting started, plans had a way of going out the door, so it was imperative that every one of his officers and NCOs knew what the overall plan was, so they could adjust accordingly when needed, in case his own tank was hit or disabled.
After finishing his brief, Captain Diss trudged over to his tank and proceeded to take care of a few hygiene needs before the festivities started. It could be days before he had another chance to shave, and as the CO, he really needed to make sure he was setting the ever-present military discipline and grooming standard.
Diss yawned and leaned for a moment against his tank, which had been dubbed Warhorse. He smiled at the sight of the seven black rings on the tank’s barrel, each one denoting a vehicle kill.
“I’m sure we’ll rack up a few more before the day’s out,” he thought.
He took a moment to brush his teeth, then spat the residue out on the ground in front of him. Then he grabbed his canteen and sloshed some water around in his mouth before he made the puddle in front of him a little larger.
“Well, at least I’ll be able to handle the smell of my own breath today,” Diss thought with a chuckle.
He pulled the portable electric shaver from his toiletry bag and ran the vibrating blades across the stubble that had grown in during the evening. He hated the grooming standard, but he wasn’t about to let the command sergeant major say something to him about it. Captain Diss mulled over the day’s plan of action in his head while he moved the razor back and forth. His company was going to be advancing to contact with the Indian 10th Armored Regiment. Their orders were to breach the enemy lines and push deep in to the enemy’s rear area and cause as much havoc as possible.
A voice suddenly intruded in on his thoughts. “You ready to get moving, Captain?” inquired his gunner, Sergeant Dakota Winters.
Placing the last few items back in his bag, Diss looked up with a grin on his face. “Yup. Sergeant Major won’t gig me today,” he replied as he ran his hand across the now stubble-free skin on his face.
“Screw the grooming standard,” Winters said. He tossed his own razor into his toiletry bag.
The sergeant then placed his foot in the cable stirrup hanging from the bottom of the front ballistic skirt, reached for the metal handle welded to the top of the fender and pulled himself up on the hull of the tank. He climbed onto the turret and dropped down the loader's hatch. Captain Diss followed suit, and less than a minute later, he’d plopped down in the commander’s position in the tank. Reaching over, he grabbed his CVC helmet and placed it firmly on his head before attaching the communications cord to the vehicle’s communications system.
Diss completed a quick crew report check with his crew before reaching out to the other vehicles in his company. “OK, guys. Let’s get this bad boy ready to go,” he said “It’s nearly time to roll out. Crew report!”
A few minutes went by as the individual crewmen in his tank ran through their various checks to make sure their targeting computers were up and running, the radios were set on the right frequencies for the day, and they had entered in the various navigational waypoints they’d be working off of for the next couple of days. Having completed their checks, all three crewmen reported ready. It was time to get moving.
Changing to the company net, Captain Diss called out, “This is Black Six to all Mustang elements. We’re moving out in five mikes. I want a wedge formation with Blue Platoon in the middle. Acknowledge and send Redcon status.”
“This is White One. Roger. Second Platoon is Redcon One,” replied Second Lieutenant Brett Horrigan, the commander of Second Platoon.
“This is Blue One. Acknowledged, and we are at Redcon One,” replied Second Lieutenant Tony Martin, the new officer in charge of Third Platoon. His platoon encompassed the attached infantry platoon in the Bradleys, and also had the company’s artillery liaison officer or LNO, riding in his own fire support team vehicle, a Bradley FIST. This was why Captain Diss wanted them placed in the center of their formation.
“This is Red One. Redcon One and ready to ‘get some,’” came back a young and overly zealous Second Lieutenant, Doug Welsh. He was the newest officer to the company, having just graduated armor school two weeks ago — and he was possibly just as young and dumb as his staff sergeant had described him.
“Excellent. Everyone’s ready to go,” Diss thought as his vehicle moved forward.
"Roger, Mustangs. Begin your movement," said Captain Diss.
In short order, his platoon of tanks quickly formed a wedge and moved down Highway 28 toward the small village of Zembrzyce. As his company of tanks and Bradleys continued to move toward the enemy, Captain Diss couldn’t help but think back to when they’d arrived as a fresh unit, before they’d suffered and lost so many men.
Their unit had arrived in Europe at the start of the New Year. By that time, the major fighting had largely ended, and the battle lines had stabilized. The war in Korea and China had stolen the attention from Europe, placing most of the European forces on defense. In the meantime, the constant probing attacks and retreats had cost their battalion more than a few tanks. Each time it would appear like they could punch through the enemy lines, they had beem ordered to withdraw. The division had not been given permission to go on the offensive. From the perspective of the soldiers, this was nothing more than wasting lives and tanks testing the enemy lines without being able to exploit vulnerabilities when they were found.