Contacting the battalion S-3, Bannon asked him if he had any bright ideas on the subject. Major Jordan informed him that Team Yankee now had priority of artillery fire and all calls for fire would be directed to the battalion fire-support officer, or FSO. Jordan also informed him that Team Bravo had taken a lot of casualties, including its commander, who was assumed to be KIA. The battalion commander was, at present, headed over to Team Bravo to attempt to rally the survivors and direct the fight from there. In the meantime, battalion was writing off Team Bravo as combat ineffective. Without having to say so, Jordan let Bannon know Team Yankee was expected to take up the slack and carry the fight.
Two company teams fighting a motorized rifle battalion would have been no problem. But one company team, even with priority of artillery fire, would be hard pressed. In the few minutes he had before that came to pass, Bannon contacted the battalion fire-support officer and made sure he had all the Team’s preplanned artillery targets. The FSO responded he had them and was ready to comply with any and all request for fire from Team Yankee.
Bannon’s plan was simple. He intended to hold fire until the Soviet lead elements reached the valley floor. When that happened, the Team would engage them with both tank platoons and the ITVs simultaneously. The 2nd Platoon would engage the lead element, the 3rd Platoon would hit the enemy still on the opposite slope, and the ITVs would engage supporting vehicles such as BRDM-2s armed with anti-tank guided missiles on the far hill. He wanted the artillery to impact along the crest of the opposite hill at the same time the Team began to fire. First, DPICM, an artillery shell that scattered many small armor-defeating bomblets, would be fired in order to take out as many Soviet PCs and self-propelled guns as possible. Then the artillery would fire high explosives and smoke rounds, laying down a smoke screen to blind any Soviet antitank system or artillery observers that might take up position there to engage the Team. That would leave the Team free to slug it out with only a portion of their force isolated from the rest. The FSO assured Bannon the artillery could handle the mission. All he needed was the word.
A sudden detonation in the village followed by the hasty retreat of a lone PC out of the village back to the Team’s positions reminded Bannon that the first sergeant hadn’t been told to blow the bridge in the town and withdraw. In the scramble to sort out the artillery fire plan, he had forgotten him. Fortunately, either Harrert had monitored the battalion net, figured out what was going on, and taken the initiative, or Uleski had ordered him out after hearing that the scouts would not be returning on the planned route. Either way, it worked out, and the first sergeant was headed back.
“ROMEO 25, THIS IS MIKE 77. SPOT REPORT. 5 T-72 TANKS MOVING WEST. GRID 190852. CONTINUING TO OBSERVE, OVER.” Bannon snapped his head to the left. There was no need to use a map. There was only one place where the Russians would be, and that was on the hill 2,200 meters away. All the training, planning, and preparation was over. Team Yankee was about to learn if the Team’s seventy-nine men and twenty-five million dollars’ worth of equipment could do what they were supposed to do; close with and destroy the enemy by fire, maneuver, and shock effect.
The five T-72 tanks began their descent into the valley in a line with about 100 meters between tanks. One of them had a mine roller attached to the front of its hull. He would have to be taken out in the first volley. As soon as the tanks started down, a line of Soviet armored personnel carriers, BMP-2s, appeared on the crest of the hill and followed the tanks down without hesitation. There were fifteen of these personnel carriers deployed in a rough line about one hundred meters behind the tanks. All moved down the opposite slope at a steady and somewhat restrained pace, as if they really didn’t want to go into the valley or get too far ahead of follow-on elements.
A third group of follow-on vehicles appeared. These were a gaggle of dissimilar armored vehicles. As they reached the crest of the hill, they paused for a moment. Just before they started their descent, the tanks and the BMPs in front made a sharp oblique to the left and headed for the north side of the village. Consisting of one BMP, a T-72, a BTR-60, an MTU bridge tank, and a ZSU 23-4 antiaircraft gun, this detachment could only be the battalion command group.
The scene before Team Yankee was too good to be true. For some unknown reason the Team had not been hit by artillery yet. The Soviets were rolling forward as if they were on maneuvers, not attacking an enemy force hunkered down in prepared position. Even better, their change in direction offered most of the Team flank shots. And on top of that, the actions by the command group had telegraphed who they were. If luck held for another minute or two, it would be all over for this motorized rifle battalion.
“ROMEO 83, THIS IS ROMEO 25. DO YOU SEE THAT LAST GAGGLE COMING DOWN THE HILL? OVER.”
“25, THIS IS 83. ROGER, OVER.”
“83, THIS IS 25. THAT IS THE COMMAND GROUP. I WANT YOU AND THE TWO TRACKS YOU HAVE UP THERE TO TAKE THEM OUT. THE BMP AND TANK FIRST, OVER”
“THIS IS 83, WILCO.”
Uleski considered this last order before he relayed instructions to the ITVs. He paused for a moment and watched the advancing Soviets. With Alpha 55 silent except for the hum of the engine, he could feel the tension build up in himself and his crew. In the past, he had always been able to crack a joke or say something funny to lighten a tense moment. But he couldn’t, not this time. It suddenly dawned upon him that this was real. The tanks and BMPs were manned with real Soviets, men who were coming his way to kill him.
Despite the heat of the day, Uleski felt a cold shiver run down his spine. His stomach began to knot up, leaving him feel as if he were going to throw up. It was real, all real. In a minute, maybe two, all hell was going to break loose and he was right in the middle of it. Uleski’s head, flooded with disjointed thoughts, began to spin, with one thought playing back over and over, “Oh God, please make this go away.”
Satisfied Uleski understood what was expected of him, Bannon switched to the battalion command net and instructed the FSO to fire the prearranged artillery barrage. When the FSO acknowledged the request, Bannon dropped back down to the Team net. “ALL BRAVO 3 ROMEO ELEMENTS, UPON IMPACT OF FRIENDLY ARTILLERY, YOU WILL COMMENCE FIRING. MAINTAIN FIRE DISTRIBUTION AND GOOD SHOOTING. ROMEO 25 OUT”
This last message neither upset nor unnerved Garger. Without bothering to acknowledge the commander’s orders, Garger switched to the platoon net and issued his own. The clear, sunny day, with the sun to his Platoon’s back, made it all too easy. All the BMPs were exposed to the entire platoon. Garger ordered SSG Pierso, who was commander of Alpha 33 and Pierson’s wingman, to engage the right half of the BMPs. Garger instructed his own wingman, Blackfoot, to begin to engage the far left BMP and then work his way toward the center of the line. He would begin in the center and work his way to the left. In this way, the platoon would avoid killing the same BMP.
With nothing to do but wait for the artillery, Garger leaned back and considered the scene before him. This was easier than the Armor School at Fort Knox. It couldn’t be that simple. There had to be a catch. The Soviets were coming at them as if the Team wasn’t there. Garger tried hard to think if there was something he had missed, an order that needed to be given. Something. But there wasn’t. All seemed to be in order. All was ready. “What the hell,” he muttered to himself. “Might as well relax and enjoy the moment.”