Sergeant Childers looked over at Lieutenant Taylor. “So, what do you think of our position?” he asked, wanting to know if the lieutenant was thinking the same thing he was about this plan.
Taylor thought for a minute before responding, “I think we have our Strykers and LATVs placed well; they have fall back positions and alternative firing positions, just like the tanks do. Overall though, I’m concerned about our placement near these two towns. While we are in an excellent blocking position, we are also sitting right in the way of what is probably a very large Russian force that is headed our direction. With no air cover, and no idea if we will have reinforcements, I think we should fall back to Kiev. Unfortunately, Captain Richards and Colonel Munch want to make a stand.”
Childers nodded in approval. The lieutenant was finally learning, putting together the bigger picture and then figuring out how his platoon fit into it. While it’s not the sergeants job to handle the big picture stuff, a good sergeant will understand it so that he can help guide his lieutenant or captain to best utilize their unit’s strengths.
“I agree, LT,” responded SFC Childers. “Now that we both have the same understanding of the situation, our goal should be to make sure our guys come out of this alive — and that we can bloody up as many Russians as possible in the process. I’m going to walk the line and make sure the Javelin crews are ready and know what to do. Perhaps you can check on the vehicles and make sure the TOW gunners are ready Sir.”
Once Lieutenant Taylor nodded in agreement, Luke turned away to go walk the line where the infantry soldiers were still digging their fox holes and other fighting positions.
Jack had always been a smart young man, scoring well on academic tests and making good grades. That kind of book smarts didn’t always translate into real-world intelligence though. He was grateful for the guidance of Sergeant Childers; having a sounding board to bounce his thoughts off of was really helping to boost his confidence (and surviving their first encounter with the Russians also increased his poise and self-assurance). He still had fear, but it was healthy fear; respect for the force of the enemy. He put his head down and put one foot in front of the other; the best thing he could do now was to make sure that his forces were as ready as they could be to meet the Russian force that would undoubtedly head their way.
Lieutenant General Mikhail Chayko, the Commander of the 1st Tank Army, had moved his field headquarters from Rostov, Russia, to the new Capital of East Ukraine, Donetsk, just as soon as it had been secured a few days ago. As he sat in an underground bunker, he poured over the digital map of Ukraine and the various units on it.
He smiled like a child seeing a video game for the first time; these new maps that the technology sector had developed were amazing. The large one-meter by one-meter touch screen was fully interactive, and several of the operations staff kept it updated with the exact real-time location and disposition of the various Russian and East Ukrainian militia units as they advanced across the demarcation line. In addition, each friendly or enemy artillery strike was displayed as it was happening, as well as showing each enemy aircraft as it entered the area of the map. Most of that information was being delivered via a series of Russian and commercial satellites, as well as Russian ground and airborne radar and surveillance platforms. The end product was incredibly detailed, and allowed the mission planners to direct or redirect military units to where they were truly needed most.
Chayko smiled and thought to himself, “The Americans aren’t the only ones who know how to integrate technology into battle management and combat operations.”
As he continued to examine the map, General Chayko’s smile disappeared completely. What caught his eye at that exact moment was the stall in the advancement of the 12th Guard’s Tank Regiment. They had apparently run into a well-organized American unit that had somehow managed to nearly destroy a battalion’s worth of tanks and infantry fighting vehicles. The map showed that the unit had lost 12 main battle tanks and 19 BMPs and BTRs — that was a lot of men and material lost, with very few Americans killed in return. It appeared they had only destroyed two of the Americans’ new HUMVEE replacement vehicles and one Stryker vehicle. They had captured two wounded Americans and found five other dead bodies. “I’ll bet the Americans tried to collect their wounded and dead before they left,” he thought. “There is no way that is all they lost from that engagement.”
The other lines of attack were showing great progress. The 6th Tank Brigade and the 27th Guard’s Motor Rifle Brigade had pushed Mykolaiv along the coast and would be at Odesa by tomorrow. Once they reached Odesa, they would continue to drive West and push through southern Moldova and the coastal area of Ukraine. His biggest concern now was making sure the Allied air forces were not able to slow down or destroy his tank regiments before they had met their objectives. The goal was not to invade further NATO countries, but to make them believe that invasion was a real threat, forcing them to the negotiation table.
As he re-centered the map over Pryluky, General Chayko suddenly felt angry. He turned to the army group’s operation officer, who had been examining the map with him, and demanded answers. “Colonel Sokolov, why is there a delay in capturing the NATO airbase at Pryluky? It should have been in our hands by now.”
Sokolov swallowed hard. “Sir, I spoke with the division commander, and they are moving to take it now. We have several Su-34s assigned to provide them air support. He says they should have the base in our hands by tomorrow morning,” the Colonel responded, knowing that was not the answer the general was looking for.
Looking at the map and the division’s location, General Chayko could see that his men were only 50 miles away from Pryluky. That division should be able to have that base under his control by dark, not the following morning. “I may have to replace him if he doesn’t get a move on,” he thought.
SFC Childers and 2nd Lieutenant Taylor sat in their fighting position along a narrow tree line, overlooking the E40 highway. It was the first time since the fighting started nearly ten hours ago that they had a chance to just sit, drink some water, and eat an MRE. Today’s Meal-Ready-to-Eat consisted of beef steak, but it came with a special prize, the jalapeño cheese sauce — the most-prized condiment in any MRE. It was the most-often traded item, and was treated like pure gold by those who regularly ate MREs. Childers looked briefly at his watch as he squeezed some cheese on his crackers. “It will be dark soon; we have maybe another hour of light,” he said.
“You think the Russians are going to hit us at night?” asked Lieutenant Taylor. He was not sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing for them, since all the American soldiers in their unit had night vision goggles, and most of the Russian soldiers would likely not be equipped with them.
Childers paused for a moment, calculating. “Probably,” he answered. “I would. If you want to rush through an area, what better time to do it than at night? They know we are tired, and they know we are a small group of Strykers and tanks… we’ll make them pay for it though.” As he finished speaking, he patted his pouch of night vision goggles.
Luke wanted to change the subject and take his mind off the war, if only for a few minutes. “Why did you join the Army, LT?” he asked.
“Hmm, that’s a good question Sergeant, and it’s a long story. Not sure we have time for it right now,” he replied with a wry laugh.
Snickering himself, Childers responded, “Well, we have a few minutes until the Russians decide to do something. Besides, it’ll help take my mind off our situation here. So, why did you join?”