BTR-90s were armored troop carriers. The fact there were forty troops on foot around the vehicles told Belanger they had dismounted to patrol through the little village and across the bridge, looking for enemy positions or booby traps. He looked out the window at the predawn while he spoke into his radio. “Havoc Six. I want you to let that force pass through you.”
“Sir?”
“Your cover in the woods adjacent to the bridge will prevent him from seeing your positions. He’s going to recon the bridge, then mount up and push west. I want to draw in the tanks. I want their report to go back to their commander clean. Let them say they just seized the Punžonys bridge.”
“Copy. What are my instructions after that?”
“Well… if I’m right, then you get to be the first Marine on this continent to kill a bunch of Russian tanks.”
“Copy, sir,” said Havoc 6, sounding less enthusiastic for the second task than he did for the first.
Another call came over the radio now. Belanger knew it was going to be a morning full of interrogatives and orders. “Darkhorse Six, this is Reckless Six.” It was the Headquarters and Service Company commander, but the captain was an infantryman, and he was being tasked with all sorts of odd jobs today.
“Go ahead, Reckless.”
“Copy, sir. Me and the engineering-O just finished laying all the mines. I think in broad daylight they’ll be visible, but for now, they are set up where you wanted them.”
“Okay, good work. Get back through friendly lines. I want you manning fifty-cals and ready to deal with dismounts.”
“Copy. Reckless Six out.”
Minutes later the lead rifle company commander came back over the net. “Darkhorse, this is Havoc Six, be advised, the enemy recon has passed our positions and is over the bridge. They mounted back up in the BTR-90s and are headed your way. Also, we hear those tanks now. They are near the cemetery on the east side of the river. Northeast of the bridge.”
There was no way Belanger would have known to look toward the little cemetery on the far side of the Neris. There were so many other places in the area that seemed to offer a better approach for Russian armor. It occurred to him that if this sighting was, in fact, enemy tank contact, then Early Sentinel had already proven its worth in the field.
Just then the same voice came over the battalion tactical net. “Break, break. All stations off the net. Flash report, this is Havoc Six. Confirmed. Positive ID on enemy armor… and they are not T-90s. They are fucking T-14s! Say again… Russian T-14s!”
No one had faced T-14s in combat; the T-14 was a brand-new tank and its capabilities weren’t fully known by NATO forces. One of the weapons had famously broken down the first time the tank had been revealed to the world in a May Day parade through Red Square, but Rich Belanger knew better than to hope Russia’s new fifth-generation tank would just stall out and die at its first contact with the enemy.
“Copy, Havoc. How many?”
“Three… Negative. Four. I think there are also T-90s behind them. They are still in the village of Punžionys and I can’t say numbers yet.”
Belanger called his India Company commander: “Diesel, are there tanks in your zone as well?”
“Negative, sir. Not sure this rail bridge can hold the T-14s, but we’re tracking and our ambush positions are set.”
Belanger thought over the picture of the entire battle space quickly. “Okay, Havoc, listen up. I want you to kill those T-14s using volley fire. Make sure your CAAT team uses their TOWs in conjunction with your Javelins. If these assholes disappear off their radios it will make the Russian commander halt and think over his situation. When that happens you will move all your forces to our side of the river, and occupy your final engagement positions. Acknowledge.”
“Roger, Darkhorse, I copy all.”
Belanger tuned his second radio to Havoc company’s net. He had given the order, and now, as if tuning in to the big game, he would listen in as the India Company commander and his men did the job.
Havoc’s lead gunner was armed with M27 machine guns. The M27 was an awesome weapon against troops in the open, but it wouldn’t scratch the paint off a Russian main battle tank.
“Havoc One, what’s your range to the lead T-14?” the company commander asked Lieutenant Munyon, his first platoon commander.
“Havoc Six, they sound like eight-zero-zero distance. But sir, I’m dealing with a lot of fog here.”
“You’ve got tracers in your M27?” the captain asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Nail that fucking tank, Devil Dog. Light the way for the antitank guys. ATs, are you all copying my traffic?”
The antitank platoon commander took to the radio now. “Sir, this is Shitty-Kitty. Roger on all. I can’t see much in this fog with my thermals, but if they can reach out and touch the target with tracer fire we’ll take the shots.”
Belanger ran to the balcony. His sergeant major was already out there, pointing off to the east. From their elevated location in the farmhouse the two might have seen out to the northern bridge in perfect conditions, but the darkness and fog ensured they couldn’t make out anything at that distance now.
Within seconds, however, Belanger saw a bright red streak of light shoot across and toward the village on the other side of the woods in the distance. It looked like it was impacting near the cemetery on the far side of the Neris. Another red streak followed shortly behind it. The report of the machine gun rolled across the countryside and back to them in a loud burp.
The tracers began arcing skyward after impacting with metal near the cemetery. Belanger knew they were raking the tanks with lead.
“Havoc Six for Shitty-Kitty. You got eyes on that location?”
“Copy, we see vehicle movement in the fog at the end of those tracers.”
“At my command I need you to fire off a volley of TOWs at the two lead tanks. Havoc Two, are your Javelins set?”
“Ready to rock, sir.”
“Fire on my order.” There was a moment’s delay, then the command came: “Fire!”
From the farmhouse two kilometers from the river, the sky to the east flashed too many times for Belanger to count. He saw the streaks of light of multiple Javelins, but because the TOW missiles raced along a wire-guided path close to the ground, he was unable to follow them across the undulating landscape between his position and the bridge.
One long, single bright red flash illuminated the fog near the cemetery. The lieutenant colonel knew multiple targets were being hit multiple times, but it looked like one long detonation from where he stood.
Then dozens of low booms from the explosions finally reached him at Darkhorse command.
His radio came alive. “Darkhorse Six, this is Havoc on battalion tac. It looks like the T-14s’ reactive armor went off. Only the Javelins’ two tanks were destroyed. None of the TOWs hit their targets — they were all destroyed in flight by the Russians’ antimissile system. Break… There are a pair of T-14s still alive. They are moving to engage.”
Now Belanger saw tracer rounds coming out of the village on the other side of the Neris, streaking over the woods and into Havoc’s position.
“This is Havoc Two! We’re taking fire!”
Belanger pressed down on the radio call button and ordered Havoc 6 to move his men. “Displace to your secondary defensive positions on our side of the river.”
Just then, Belanger heard a clatter of heavy gunfire two hundred meters from the farmhouse he was using as his CP. The enemy’s reconnaissance element had found his secondary machine guns, manned by his Headquarters and Service Company.