Standing along the side of the road leading out of Uzhgorod, Dixon, with Cerro at his side, watched an artillery battery rumble by them. "Hal, this is taking too long. It's taking too damned long."
Cerro watched another M-109 self-propelled howitzer roll by without responding as Dixon continued his one-sided conversation. "We have too much shit going forward. This is a raid, like you said, not an invasion. Most of these units look like they're making a permanent change of station move."
Dixon paused to watch an ammo carrier for the self-propelled gun trundle on by. "Well, Hal, it's too late to do anything about that now. Make a note, will you, to get ahold of the task force and battalion ops officers and have them give you a list of exactly what they took along. It's obvious that the commanders in this brigade still don't understand the meaning of essential vehicles only."
Like in a tennis match, as soon as the ammo carrier passed and the next self-propelled gun came closer, both Dixon and Cerro snapped their heads to watch its passing. With nothing better to do at that moment, and needing to escape the cramped confines of their command post carrier, Dixon and Cerro had left those tracks, leaving captains and sergeants to monitor the incoming status reports. Wandering to the side of the road, the two officers watched the follow-on elements of the brigade pass. Watching columns of military vehicles roll by, Cerro had once thought, was sort of like watching television. It was repetitive and required no thinking, a mindless diversion that was therapeutic, the perfect way, he had found a long time ago, for a commander to give his mind a rest while appearing to be doing something and showing his face. Everyone, even the notorious Scott Dixon, needed a break. Like Dixon, Cerro had stood on the side of the road watching vehicles of every description and size go by while allowing his brain to simply drift about and rest. Dixon's comments, his first in almost five minutes, were followed by a couple more minutes of silence as his brain drifted free again.
Dixon was busy watching the first of a long line of five-ton cargo trucks begin to roll by when Cerro heard the rapid approach of footsteps and crunching of snow behind him. Turning, he saw one of his young captains, a slip of paper in his hand that Cerro assumed to be a message form, headed for him. "Looks like a dispatch from the field, sir."
It took Dixon a moment to catch on, first looking over at Cerro, then at the approaching staff captain. "Hmm. Must be an update from 3rd of the 3rd on the fight at the Latorica River.
Seems like the Youkes aren't wasting any time moving their forces from Chop."
"Won't do 'em any good, Colonel. Not with Kozak on the prowl."
The arrival of the staff captain cut off Cerro's retort. Momentarily out of breath and excited, the young captain looked at Dixon, then glanced at Cerro. Cerro nodded for him to go ahead and report directly to the colonel. Dixon, feeling good, returned the captain's salute and quipped, "Well, what news from the Old Guard down at the Latorica River?"
The captain shook his head as he reached out to offer Dixon the small slip of paper he had been carrying. "No updates from the Task Force 3rd of the 3rd after their report that they had defeated the advanced guard detachment. This report is from Tenth Corps headquarters in Prague, sir. They picked up a report over Sky Net from SAC. Satellites have detected what they believe was a nuclear detonation south of Svalyava. Corps has advised all units involved in Operation Desperate Fumble and east of Prague to commence nuclear survey and monitoring."
Dixon had said nothing. He had suspected that something would go wrong. He constantly reminded his commanders and staff that things never go exactly the way they were planned, which, according to his admonishments, was why commanders were always needed to be forward and staff officers thinking. In the back of his mind, Dixon had been waiting for the hidden flaw of this operation to pop up and rear its ugly head. That it came in the form it did was a shock that neither he nor Cerro had imagined.
Cerro, taken aback by the captain's announcement as much as Dixon, responded first. Folding his arms across his chest and looking down at the ground, Cerro grimaced. "Well, so much for stealth and cunning." Looking up at the captain, he asked if there was anything else.
"No, sir. We asked for additional information, but the people at corps gave us a wait-out. I don't think they had a good handle on everything yet." Then as an afterthought he added, "The sergeant major is having Sergeant Godwin prepare an effective downwind message and frag order for all units to initiate immediate survey and monitoring. By the time you get back, it should be ready."
Dixon reached out and put his hand on the captain's shoulder. "Well, don't wait for us. Get back there and get it out over the air. Use flash-override if necessary. Now go."
After a hasty salute, the captain turned and trotted off back to the command post carriers.
For several seconds, Cerro watched Dixon in silence. Dixon was thinking, mentally absorbing the latest development and considering what actions, if any, he needed to take. Finally Cerro spoke. "Colonel, should we consider delaying the deployment of the brigade trains forward in case someone decides we need to unass the Ukraine in a hurry?"
Dixon thought about Cerro's question as he turned and looked at the unending line of trucks moving east. "Too many goddamned vehicles," he mumbled. "We've got too much shit for our own good." Then he looked at Cerro. "Let's wait and see what's happening before we get all excited and start altering the equation. Come on, let's go. Break's over, Hal. Back on your head."
The last of the three tanks of the advanced guard detachment had been destroyed by the time Kozak reached Ellerbee's position. Pulling up next to his tank, Kozak had dismounted and climbed up on Ellerbee's tank, where she listened to his report. When Ellerbee was finished, Kozak went over with him what she expected from her subordinates in the way of reports. Though she was composed by the time she got back into her Bradley, Sergeant Wolf knew that the red in her cheeks wasn't all due to the cold and wind. Watching her as she put her combat crewman's helmet on and stared blankly to her front, Wolf decided she needed a little humor. "Well, ma'am, I guess it's true."
Caught up in her own thoughts, Kozak gave Wolf a quizzical look. "What are you talking about, Sergeant Wolf?"
Wolf smiled. "You know, ma'am. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."
Kozak suppressed the urge to laugh. "Where in the devil. Wolf, did you hear that one?"
"The first sergeant. That's what Top always says when you go off and chew someone out after they've pissed all over your leg."
Though military etiquette frowned on sergeants talking to their commanders in such a manner, Kozak seldom corrected or restrained Wolf or any of the members of the crew of Charlie 60, her Bradley. She in fact encouraged open and free discussion as a means of both relieving the tensions that sometimes became unbearable in C60 during operations and as a way of finding out what the latest rumors and gossip in the company were. Still they had their limits. And vulgarity was, for her, pushing the limits of acceptability.
"Sergeant Wolf, you are not the first sergeant. And I didn't chew Lieutenant Ellerbee out. I merely ensured that he understood what I consider to be proper reporting procedures."
Wolf gave Kozak a knowing smile. "Okay, ma'am, I understand. Where to now? Back up the hill?"
"No. Let's head for the bridge and find Lieutenant Matto. We need to see how her engineers are doing. Those three T-80 tanks no doubt weren't alone. I expect we'll have some more company soon."
Serious now, Wolf keyed the intercom switch on his crew man's helmet. "Yo, Terri. Crank it up and move on down to the bridge to where we were before."