Childers turned to look at the soldiers to his right and his left. The soldiers in his platoon had their faces covered in camouflage to help them blend in with their surroundings, and it had the added benefit of helping to keep some of the mosquitoes at bay. He lifted his right hand to his face, signaling to the others around that they may have possible movement to their front. Everyone began to settle down a little deeper against their hastily dug positions. Water from the rainfall not fully absorbed into the soil yet, so crouching down was covering their legs in mud and water.
Childers lifted his hand slightly and depressed his radio transmitter. He spoke in a soft voice so as not to draw any attention to his position. “Warhorse, this is Nemesis-two-two; we have possible contact, two kilometers to our front. Please advise on enemy activity in the area, over.”
Luke placed his rifle down in front of him and pulled out his micro-binoculars from a pouch on his Individual Body Armor (IBA). He began to slowly scan the area in the direction of the possible contact. “Maybe I can catch a glimpse of something,” he thought.
Their battalion commander responded to Luke’s radio message. “Nemesis-two, this is Warhorse actual. Intelligence reports possible motorized Russian battalion in the area. What do you see, over?”
As the morning fog continued to clear, they began to see more movement below in the valley. A second later, 2nd Lieutenant Jack Taylor squatted down next to him. “What do you see Sergeant?” he asked, leaning on his platoon sergeant for the expertise he lacked as a junior officer.
Turning slightly, Childers replied quietly, “In that wooded area, about two kilometers in front of us, we have movement near the village of Oleksiivka, just on the other side of the demarcation zone. You can see the soldiers at the checkpoint.” He pointed. “There appears to be a lot of activity of some sort just outside our view.”
Luke handed Jack the radio. “Why don’t you tell HQ what we are observing and let them figure out what they want us to do about it.”
Taylor nodded, then depressed the talk button on the radio, “Warhorse, this is Nemesis-two-two, we have probable enemy vehicles to our front, two kilometers. Primary objective is still covered in mist, possible enemy activity. How, copy?” he asked, hoping they would instruct him to just sit tight and wait for the sun to do its work and burn the mist away.
The men scattered in the tree line were wound tight, apprehensive about what might be waiting down in the valley below as the sun slowly began to disperse the morning fog. It would not be long before they would discover if hostilities with the Russians really were going to happen.
“Nemesis-two-two, this is Warhorse. Can you send your Raven up? We need eyes on that village, over.” The Raven was a small handheld infantry drone that had recently been issued to their unit a couple of months ago. It was a small drone, but could provide real-time video to the ground operators.
Childers nodded to Taylor, who responded, “Copy that, Warhorse. Will advise shortly.” They both knew the Raven was a good way to get eyes on the village, but they were concerned with the Russians potentially spotting it. The Russians, unlike the Taliban or ISIS, had the ability to track electronic signatures and radio traffic.
“The Russians are a real army,” thought Childers. “They could do a lot more damage than the Islamic extremists I’ve spent most of my military career fighting.” This was going to be new territory for SFC Childers; almost all of his experience in combat had been in the Middle East, where the enemy was disorganized, and while very scrappy, completely lacking in technique.
He turned slightly, and signaled for two of his soldiers to come towards him. “Specialist Tiller, PFC Black, I want you to deploy the Raven. Get it up over the village. Let’s see what you can spot,” he directed
Specialist Tiller was one of his best younger troopers. The kid was extremely bright. He was already into flying civilian drones, so when they offered him the opportunity to be responsible for the troop’s Raven, he jumped at it. They only had three soldiers in the troop that had been officially trained on how to operate the Raven; however, Tiller had taken it upon himself to train several others in his squad and platoon on how to operate it. He even volunteered his own personal drone to help teach others how to fly them and how they worked.
Specialist Tiller took his backpack off and unzipped it into two halves. He pulled the small Raven out of the carrying case, and quickly assembled the camera to the body of the drone and then unfolded the wings. His partner, Private First Class Ernest Black, got the wireless controller ready, turned it on and did a quick check to see that the camera was transmitting to the small monitor on the controller and the Toughbook that they had with them.
A minute later, PFC Black took the drone from Specialist Tiller, arched his right arm back and gave the drone a quick throw into the air. Specialist Tiller immediately gave the little drone a bit of power and it quickly began to gain altitude. Within a minute, the drone had risen to nearly 500 feet above their position as it headed down the valley towards the sound of the vehicles in the village.
Lieutenant Taylor and SFC Childers gathered around the Toughbook, looking at the images being transmitted by the drone. “PFC Black, is the drone synced with headquarters? I want to make sure they are seeing what we are seeing,” Taylor said, hoping the private had made sure this was taken care of before they had launched the drone.
PFC Black looked at the Lieutenant with one of those looks that said, “I know what I’m doing,” and just nodded. “I synced it with the coms from your vehicle before we sent it up. They should be seeing what we are seeing,” he explained, much to the relief of his Lieutenant.
Lieutenant Jack Taylor had only been with the squadron for three months prior to their deployment. He had just completed his officer advance school and airborne school a few months prior to being assigned to Nemesis Troop.
Before Taylor left for this mission, his Squadron Commander had sat him down. “I just want you to know, in no uncertain terms, that you should listen to SFC Childers. He was an Army Ranger, with eight deployments before he got injured. Not only is he an experienced and outstanding NCO, he will help you grow as a leader. There’s a reason he’s up for Master Sergeant — the guy is a wealth of information.” Jack had taken the conversation to heart.
As the drone made its way towards the checkpoint, the four men nervously watched the screen of the Toughbook. The drone flew about eight hundred feet above the copse of trees, and then it passed the checkpoint and started to fly over the village. Their stomachs sank. The video feed showed them 12 T-80 Main Battle Tanks (MBTs) lining up, along with a slew of other armored vehicles. Soldiers were quickly swarming around the vehicles, affixing various tree branches and foliage to the armor. It looked like the tanks were also covered in reactive armor, which meant they were geared up for combat.
“Oh wow, are those BMP-3s?” asked Lt. Taylor.
“Yeah, it looks like they have 16 of them, if my count is right,” answered SFC Childers. The BMP-3 was an amphibious vehicle that ran on a pair of tracks like a tank. Each one either had 100mm or a 30mm cannon as its main armament and carried seven soldiers inside their armored compartments; even though they came out in the 1980s, they were still feared on the battlefield.