The second Cobra rose into position as soon as the first had fired. It also fired, remained locked on target for about fifteen seconds before dropping down and moving to another position just as the first had done. By that time, the first Cobra was ready to pop up from his new position and fire again. After each Cobra had fired two TOWs, they flew back up the valley behind their scout to find a new firing position.
The realization that the Soviet lead elements were now close enough to be engaged by TOWs from across the valley startled Bannon. That meant that the enemy was now within five kilometers. To add weight to that point, friendly artillery from a unit behind the Team’s position came whistling overhead to the east. Once more adrenalin started to pump through Bannon’s veins as the first undamaged cavalry combat vehicles came racing down off the opposite hill. M-l tanks and M-3 Bradley cavalry vehicles, mixed together, their guns to the rear and their orange identification panels flapping as they moved, came rolling through the lanes marked in the Team’s minefields and into the village.
The ordeal for the cavalry wasn’t over yet. As the first vehicles entered the village, the streets erupted into a ball of flames and explosions. The Soviets were dumping at least a battalion’s worth of artillery against the town in an effort to extract one last modicum of vengeance on the retreating cavalry. This initial impact was followed by a steady drumbeat of artillery as a new volley slammed home every few seconds. Bannon had no idea of the caliber of rounds they were using or how many were impacting. Not that he needed to know. Without doubt, the battalion commander was able to see it from his position. Bannon’s immediate concern was his first sergeant, who was monitoring the cavalry’s passage of lines, and the Mech infantry platoon’s squad who were in the village in the middle of all that fire.
“ROMEO 25, THIS IS MIKE 77. SHELLREP, OVER.” Garger was on the ball. Reporting per the Team SOP, the lieutenant was calling to inform him of the artillery barrage to his front. Garger hadn’t considered that Bannon, from his position, would be able to see the same thing. The fact that he was at least thinking and had the presence of mind to report, however, was encouraging.
“ALL BRAVO 3 ROMEO ELEMENTS, THIS IS ROMEO 25. I CAN OBSERVE THE ACTION AT 179872. NO NEED TO REPORT THAT.” Bannon let the CVC push-to-talk switch go for a few seconds to frustrate Soviet direction-finding attempts, then started again. “OCCUPY YOUR FIRING POSITIONS NOW. I SAY AGAIN, OCCUPY YOUR FIRING POSITIONS NOW. THE RUSSIANS WILL BE RIGHT BEHIND THOSE PEOPLE COMING THROUGH. ACKNOWLEDGE, OVER.”
The platoons rapidly responded in turn. The tracks to the left and right of Alpha 66 cranked up and pulled forward. In their excitement, some of them forgot about their camouflage nets. Bannon watched Alpha 33 as its camo net supports tumbled and the net stretched forward as if it were a large spider web stuck to the tank. Once the stakes were yanked free, the net trailed the tank limply. In a belated plea, Bannon called over the company net to remind the platoons to remember the camo nets. Then he and Kelp jumped out, dragged theirs in, and jumped back into position.
The battalion net now came to life as the battalion Scout Platoon began to report sighting, then contact with the lead enemy element. As Team Yankee’s artillery fire-support team, or FIST, was detached to the Scout Platoon while they were deployed forward, Bannon listened intently, hoping he wouldn’t lose that valuable combat asset. The Scout Platoon’s mission was to cover the withdrawal of the last of the cavalry, engage the enemy’s lead elements in an effort to deceive them as to where the covering force area ended and the main battle area began, and then withdraw through Team Yankee.
Their fight was to be short but important. Once they became engaged, the battle more or less passed from the cavalry to the battalion. Though the last of the covering force still had to roll through sporadic artillery fire impacting in the village and up the little valley to the Team’s right, the cavalry’s battle was over. Team Yankee’s first battle was about to begin.
The radio on the Team net came to life as First Sergeant Harrert reported in. “ROMEO 25, THIS IS ROMEO 97, OVER.” He was still in the village and still alive.
“ROMEO 97, THIS IS ROMEO 25. WHAT KIND OF SHAPE ARE YOU IN? OVER.”
“THIS IS 97. I HAVE ONE WHISKEY INDIA APLHA. THE NOVEMBER 8 TANGO ELEMENT HAS COMPLETED PASSAGE. WAITING ON THE TANGO 9 FOXTROT ELEMENT NOW, OVER.”
“THIS IS 25. DO YOU NEED THE BANDAID FOR THE CASUALTY? OVER.”
“THIS IS 97. NEGATIVE. HE CAN WAIT, OVER.”
“THIS IS 25. THE TANGO 9 FOXTROT ELEMENT IS NOW IN CONTACT. I EXPECT THEM TO START BACK WITHIN THREE ZERO MIKES. HANG IN THERE, OVER.”
“THIS IS 97. WILCO, OUT.”
So far everything was working according to plan. The only downside Bannon could see was that in their haste to occupy firing positions, the Team had probably screwed up most of its camo nets. But right now, that was the least of his concerns as he continued to listen to the Scout Platoon’s fight, now being joined by reports from Team Bravo.
Team Bravo, occupying the hill across the small valley from Team Yankee, was under fire from several battalions’ worth of Soviet artillery. The initial and frantic report from Team Bravo’s commander over the battalion radio net was cut off in mid-sentence. Attempts by the battalion S-3 to reestablish contact with him went unanswered. That either meant the command track had had its antennas blown off or, it had been hit.
This caused Bannon to wonder if his 1st Platoon, attached to Team Bravo, was in the middle of the impact area. It had to be, he reasoned, judging from the fragmented report he’d monitored. Although he was concerned that some of his people were now under fire, there was nothing he could do for them. About the only thought that flashed through his mind “Better them than me.”
In its wake, Bannon felt himself go flush with shame at the very idea that he could harbor such a selfish thought. About the only justification he could conjure up at the moment was to remind himself that he was only human. Though it was a rather piss poor rational, it was the best he could do as he turned his attention to more immediate and pressing problems.
Reports from the scouts continued to pour in over the battalion command net. One of the scout tracks had been hit, and contact with another had been lost. From the reported locations of the enemy’s lead element, the scouts weren’t slowing it down. Finally, the scout platoon leader requested permission to displace. Realizing that leaving the scouts out there wasn’t going to do the battalion any good, Reynolds gave his permission to withdraw.
Unfortunately, this permission had come too late. The barriers and artillery that were supposed to slow the Soviet advance and allow the Scout Platoon a chance to pass through Team Yankee did little to slow the enemy, much less stop them. Ignoring losses inflicted on them by mines, artillery, and the Scout Platoon, the Soviets bulled their way forward, bloody minded and hell-bent on breaking through regardless of the price. The Scout Platoon leader informed the battalion commander that rather than try for the passage through Team Yankee, he was going to withdraw to the south and cross at an alternate passage point.
This was not a good turn of events for the Team. With the scouts went Team Yankee’s artillery FIST Team. Bannon had never been keen on the idea of letting his FIST go with the scouts, pointing out that they might not be able to rejoin the Team. But he had always been reassured that the FIST track would be back long before Team Yankee had any contact with the enemy. This was one time he was sorry he had been right, for not only would he have to fight the Team, now he also had to play forward observer for his supporting artillery.