“This is Red One. Redcon One and ready to kill ‘em all,” came back his young and overly zealous second lieutenant, Doug Welsh. Even after a couple of battles, this guy was still full of piss and vinegar and not scared in the least. Despite his young age and newness to the company, his platoon had the most tank kills.
“Excellent. Everyone’s ready to go,” Captain Diss thought. He signaled his driver to begin moving forward.
“Roger, Mustangs, begin your movement," ordered Captain Diss. As the Abrams battle tanks moved across the open ground, he could feel the tracks crushing through the ice and snow beneath them.
“Make sure you keep the heater going,” Diss shouted down to his driver, who gave him a short grunt for a reply.
Within ten minutes, his company’s platoons had fallen into the diamond formation he’d briefed them on, and they continued their march toward the Russian border. When they got within five kilometers of the border, Captain Diss spotted a series of defensive positions the infantry soldiers had been manning. Many of the soldiers gave them a short wave or other gesture of support as they passed through their lines. The First Cavalry division was the lead element for the US Seventh Army, and if anyone was going to see a lot of action this first day of the offensive, it was going to be them.
From his perch in the commander’s seat, Captain Diss did his best to scan the horizon for the enemy. There was still a light dusting of snow falling, although it was nothing so heavy as to obscure his view. When they reached the official demarcation line that separated Ukraine from Russia and crossed it, Diss felt a sense of relief and joy — relief that they had not been attacked yet, and joy that they had officially invaded the Motherland. They were one step closer to victory.
In short order, they came across their first natural barrier and the first waypoint, the Siverskyi Donets River. With their attack helicopters zooming ahead of them to scout the area, they continued to move southeast of Belgorod into the open farmland that lay beyond the city.
As Captain Diss looked off in the distance, a thunderous roar of antiaircraft fire erupted from within the city. The heavy-caliber cannons spewed hundreds of high-velocity rounds in the direction of the Apache helicopters that were screening for his tanks.
Following a string of cannon shells and tracer rounds, Captain Diss saw the Apaches break hard to avoid the fusillade being fired at them. “I wish we could go in there and take those enemy guns out,” he thought. He crossed his fingers, hoping that the Stryker battalion that was slated to assault the city would be able to silence them soon enough.
Despite the frigid temperature, Captain Diss took the opportunity to open the hatch so he could get a better view of what was going on around them. Climbing up to his perch behind the M2 .50 machine gun, he watched and listened to the antiaircraft guns firing away a few kilometers to his left. Jets were roaring somewhere overhead. It was odd seeing the green tracers crisscrossing the morning sky, intermixed with the light dusting of snow. While he was taking everything in, an urgent call came in over the radio.
“Black Six, this is Avenger Six. Be aware, we have spotted what appears to be a Russian regiment-sized element, four kilometers to your front. We are moving to engage.”
Dropping back into the turret and closing the hatch, Diss jumped on the company net. “All Mustang elements, Avenger element is engaging enemy tanks, regiment-sized element, four kilometers to our front. Prepare for contact,” he announced.
Minutes later, their vehicle crested a small hill that bordered a large copse of trees to their right. As it did, he spotted one of the Apaches as it pulled a tight turn and banked its nose down, letting loose a string of antimaterial rockets on the tree line. Half a dozen explosions erupted within the trees, followed by several secondary explosions.
Captain Diss began to search the tree line for threats but was interrupted when explosions erupted all around them. His tank was jostled from side to side as chunks of shrapnel banged and clinked off their armor. “Look for targets! They must be close!” he shouted over the thunder of artillery explosions.
“Tank, 1,700 meters, three o’clock!” shouted his gunner excitedly.
Captain Diss moved his commander's independent thermal viewer and spotted the tank lurking under a white camouflage net a few meters inside the tree line. “How did Cox spot that thing?” he thought in amazement.
“Gunner, sabot tank!" he yelled.
"Identified!" exclaimed Sergeant Cox, eager to fire.
Specialist Mann acknowledged, yelling “Up!”
"Fire!" screamed Diss. It was hard to hear anything over the racket outside.
Crump, crump, crump!
Enemy artillery rounds continued to follow them as they advanced closer to the enemy positions.
"On the way!" Cox shouted. He depressed the firing button.
Boom!
The cannon fired, recoiling back inside the turret as the vehicle continued to race forward. The spent aft cap of the sabot round clanged on the turret floor, and the cabin filled with the sulfuric fumes so reminiscent of battle.
Returning his gaze to the front, Captain Diss caught sight of the silhouette of more enemy armor. Dozens of enemy vehicles had emerged from behind a bend in the nearby hill and from the forest to their right. The enemy vehicles appeared to be lining up for a charge.
Diss switched back to the company net. “Mustangs, we have a battalion-sized element 3,100 meters to our two o’clock. Company, change formation to a line position and advance to contact,” he ordered. He wanted to bring all of his platoons forward, so they could effectively mass their fire.
Captain Diss contacted his FIST team next. “Black Eight, this is Black Six. I need a fire mission. Get us some arty on that copse of trees and that mass of enemy vehicles charging us!” he yelled.
Then Diss turned to the battalion net and sent a quick message to his commander, letting him know what they were seeing.
“Captain, those tanks are charging toward us now!” yelled Sergeant Cox. “They’re crossing 3,000 meters.” The turret turned slightly to the right as he tracked their first target. “Enemy missiles, three o’clock!” he shouted.
Before the missiles could get close to them, the forested area erupted into a ball of fire as dozens upon dozens of artillery rounds landed all throughout the area. Secondary explosions added further carnage to the already messy scene. Many of the antitank missiles still streamed toward his vehicles, scoring a couple of hits against his tanks and Bradleys.
Bam!
A large blast detonated near their tank, sending a concussion through the air. Then a voice came over the company net. “Blue Two is hit.”
Diss had a sickening feeling in his stomach when he heard that announcement. He knew four of his troopers were most likely dead, judging by the intensity of the explosion nearby.
Turning his attention back to the immediate threat to his front, Captain Diss saw the enemy formation begin to advance toward them. However, another volley of 155mm artillery rounds hammered the enemy positions, and a couple of tanks suffered direct hits, exploding in spectacular fireballs. Some of the enemy BMPs and BTRs were also taken out of commission.
Spotting over a dozen T-90s heading toward them, Diss yelled, “Gunner, sabot tank! 1,800 meters, eleven o’clock.”