While training was progressing well, Lewis was worried about what was coming next. It was all well and good to get their equipment off to the Persian Gulf as soon as possible; and, likewise, using the time while the equipment was in transit for post mobilization training made sense.
It was the act of getting the men and the equipment together again that concerned Lewis. To off load the ships in Iran, the Army needed at least one secure and functional seaport. Likewise, to get the troops in, a secure and functional airfield was needed in close proximity to the seaport. More than that, the air over these facilities had to be relatively free of enemy air activity. It would do no good to have all the equipment arrive in port and have the people who were to man it spattered on a runway in Iran by a hotshot Russian jet-fighter jock as the transport plane came in for a landing. A lot of coordination between the Army, the Navy and the Air Force needed to happen. to make this operation work.
There was serious work to do, however, right there at Fort Campbell.
What happened in Iran was still in the future. Lewis' main concern at that moment was to prepare the battalion for battle as best he could.
Success or failure of the deployment phase of the operation was in the hands of other people, people he would never know. As his jeep, also borrowed from the Kentucky National Guard, bounced along the tank trail back to battalion headquarters, Lewis flipped through the unit training schedules for the next day to ensure that everything had been coordinated and set. There was precious little time for screwups.
In any profession there are requirements and duties that are necessary and important but unpleasant. Often, as an unwritten rule, these jobs are given to the most junior man. This practice is passed off as being part of the new man's development, while in fact it is nothing more than passing off a dirty chore to someone else. An equally common practice is to continue passing off unpleasant duties until there is no one else to push the duty off onto. The Army is probably the greatest practitioner of this method of dealing with its dirty little jobs. Junior Lieutenant Nikolai Ilvanich knew this from his training as a cadet and a junior officer. It was part of the system. This rationalization, however, did not make his current task any easier.
Since being relieved by the 28th CAA, the 285th Guards Airborne Regiment had been recovering and reorganizing. Ilvanich's company was typical of the condition of the regiment as a whole. The company had dropped into Tabriz with seven officers and seventy-eight enlisted men.
After six days of sustained combat, there were only two officers and thirty-three enlisted men who were not dead or wounded when the ground forces finally arrived.
The 285th Regiment's parent division was equally depleted, requiring reorganization and amalgamation of units. During this effort, the 285th was assigned garrison and patrol duties in and around Tabriz while the 28th CAA continued to advance south and west.
One of these duties was the apprehension and punishment of Iranians who violated the curfew. The punishment was death. Ilvanich did not realize what he and his men would be required to do when he reported to the garrison headquarters on the afternoon of the fourth. He was taken to a KGB major who would brief him and supervise him and his platoon during the performance of their duties. The KGB major was relatively young, Ilvanich guessed not more than thirty-two. He stood a bit over six foot and had a medium build. His looks and dress were average. But the fact that he was KGB made him different, a difference that one did not dare forget.
At first Ilvanich thought that his men were to be prison guards.
Slowly, as the KGB major talked, it dawned upon him that he was going to lead a firing squad and summarily execute anyone who had been apprehended for violating the curfew. Anyone, that is, who was not shot by the patrols.
When this revelation finally hit him, Ilvanich flushed. For a moment he felt lightheaded, as if he were going to faint. Then he noticed the KGB major staring at him. The major asked whether there was something wrong. livanich, mustering all the strength he could, collected himself and replied that he was simply tired, not fully recovered from his first battle. The KGB major appeared to accept that, heaping praise on the bravery and sacrifice of the airborne soldiers before carrying on with his briefing. When he got to the portion of the briefing where he described the duties of the officer in charge of the firing squad, he spoke slowly and looked into Ilvanich's eyes. The KGB major was searching for weakness or hesitation. Ilvanich returned the stare, turning his thoughts away from the task he was being given.
That night, for the first time in his career, Ilvanich struggled with his duties and his conscience. In the dark room where he was billeted, sleep did not come. He tossed and turned in his sweat-soaked bunk, trying to clear his mind and to reason out his current problem. His whole life revolved around duty to the State and the Army. The two were inseparable.
There was, in his mind, no other purpose to his life but to serve the State. He had performed, without question, his duties when he and his men were dropped into Iran. Despite the horrors, he was able to deal with what he was doing because the Iranians were the enemy, enemies of the State, armed and ready to do harm to the State. His role as an executioner, however, was different. He was being directed to shoot civilians whose sole crime was being in the street at night. Granted, some, if not most, were probably terrorists or guerrillas. But this killing was going to be different. On the front it had been so quick, so necessary. Now the process was going to be slow and the reason not so clear.
In the cool of the early morning Ilvanich paraded his firing squad.
Still unsure of himself and how he would react, he did his best to hide any show of emotion and chose his words carefully as he issued his instructions. His men quickly detected his stress and tension. But they, like their platoon leader, understood what was at stake and followed suit, doing exactly as they were told without any sign of feeling or hesitation.
The KGB major watched from a corner of the small prison courtyard as the first group of Iranians were brought out and stood against the clean whitewashed wall. His eyes were riveted on Ilvanich standing on the flank of the firing squad. Ilvanich could feel the major's eyes on him. He also felt himself getting dizzy again as he surveyed the prisoners. Of the ten people, four were women, two were boys who could not have been more than twelve years old, and one was an old man who walked with the aid of a wooden stick. How, Ilvanich thought, could any sane person consider this motley group a threat to the State? It was ludicrous. Carefully, he turned his head to where the KGB major stood leaning against the prison building, staring at him. With a simple nod, the major indicated it was time to proceed. Turning his head back to where he could face his men without seeing the people they were about to execute, Ilvanich began to give the orders.
"Ready."
His men raised their rifles to their shoulders.
"Aim."
They tucked their cheeks against the stocks of their rifles.
Ilvanich steadied himself and closed his eyes.
"Fire. "
The noise that reverberated off the courtyard walls was deafening. It caused Ilvanich to jump. Opening his eyes, he looked down the line of men as they fired. Some fired a single burst, with their eyes closed, then stopped. Others fired continuously, dipping their rifles to shoot into the bodies after they had fallen. Some fired until their entire magazines were empty.