by Harold Coyle
do was fight it out with the American tanks head-on. The tank company commander ordered his tanks to attack and began to direct his gunner to engage the lead American tank.
The scene was more like a medieval battle between knights than a clash between the most advanced tanks in the world. Like the knights of Middle Ages, the two groups of tanks charged at each other with lowered lances. Team Yankee had the advantage of surprise and numbers, nine against five. The element of surprise allowed the Team to fire first. The volley from Team Yankee stopped three of the T-72s, two of them blowing up and the third only crippled. The return fire from the Soviets claimed a 3rd Platoon tank.
By the time they were ready to fire again, the Team was right on top of the surviving Soviet tanks. Two of 3rd Platoon's tanks drove past the one Soviet tank still running. The turrets of the U.S. tanks stayed locked on the T-72 as they went by. When the two tanks fired on the Soviet at point-blank range, both rounds penetrated, causing the T-72
to stagger to a halt as internal explosions and sheets of flames blew open its hatches.
The crippled T-72 was overwhelmed. The shock of being hit and having so many targets so close was too much for the crew. They were obviously confused in their last seconds.
Bannon watched the turret move one way to engage a tank, then in the opposite direction to engage a tank that appeared to be a greater threat, then back to the original tank. As he watched this, he wondered why none of the Team's tanks were firing on it. They had all slowed down by now so as not to bypass it, and most of the tanks had their guns trained on the hapless Soviet tank. Yet no one fired. It was almost as if everyone either felt sorry for this lone survivor or they were enjoying making the Soviets suffer the agony of certain death.
Whatever the reason, Bannon ordered Folk to fire. He and four other tank commanders had the same idea at the same instant, giving an effective coup de grace to the last tank.
Six kilometers to the east on the other side of the hill a Soviet tank battalion commander was in the middle of a raging fit. As the lead tank of his second company raced along the narrow trails to catch up with the company already engaged, it had thrown a track making a sharp turn. Now it blocked the trail.
At first he was not worried. There appeared to be plenty of room for the battalion to bypass to one side. This was ordered. The fourth tank that did so, however, also threw a track. Now the bypass was blocked. As he nervously thumped his fingers on his map, waiting for the path to be cleared, the battalion political officer climbed on board his tank and watched the proceedings from there in silence. The battalion commander tried to ignore the political officer but that was not possible. "The bastard," he thought. "He's come here to intimidate me. He'll not succeed." The political officer did, as was his habit, succeed. Both the battalion commander and the political officer heard the report from the lead company that they were being engaged
by American tanks in the flank, and the attack had to be broken off. The political officer leaned over and said, "Well, comrade, what are we going to do? The attack seems to be failing."
This was a threat, clear and simple. The political officer was telling the battalion commander that if he didn't take action, he, the political officer, would. The commander did not hesitate.
At least fighting the Americans gave him a chance. One had no chance with the KGB. The three tanks that had already bypassed were ordered to continue forward to assist the lead company. The battalion commander climbed out of his tank personally to supervise the clearing of the trail. At least the thrashing of arms and yelling would give the appearance of doing something. It was worth a try.
For a moment, Bannon drew a blank. The sight of smashed vehicles and the smell associated with burning tanks was becoming all too familiar. The fact that the battalion's predicament was nowhere near what the plan had called for was not any different from other operations. It was the fact that he had no immediate superior to turn to for orders and assistance that threw him. On Hill 214 he had been alone, but at least he was still able to carry on with the order that had been issued.
This was different. He had one company that had been wiped out and two companies that were facing the wrong way watching the fourth company mill about waiting for him, their commander, to pull his head out and give them some orders. No sooner had the thought
"Why me?" flashed through his mind than the answer followed, "Because you're it." For the moment there was no one else, and if he didn't start doing something fast to get this goat screw squared away, the next wave of Russians would finish them. He ordered Uleski to rally the Team's tanks and stand by for orders. Next he ordered Team Bravo to turn around to a defensive posture covering the rest of the battalion. The D company commander was ordered to rally his unit and sweep the battlefield to clear it of any Soviet survivors and provide whatever help they could to C company's survivors.
Contacting the battalion S-3 Air, a young captain back at the battalion's main CP, Bannon ordered him to report the battalion's current status to brigade, its location, and the fact that it was halted. Additionally, brigade was to be informed that he had assumed command and would contact the brigade commander personally as soon as possible. With that, Bannon switched back to the Team radio net and contacted Uleski, informing him that he would be leaving the Team net. Until further notice, Uleski would command Team Yankee.
Not wanting to sit out in the middle of the field by himself, Bannon ordered Kelp to follow 55.
Dropping down to where the radios were, he flipped through the CEOI, found the radio frequency for the brigade's command net, switched the frequency, and reset the radio's preset frequencies.
While the battalion net had been relatively quiet, brigade's was crowded with a never-ending stream of calls, orders, half-completed conversations, and requests for more information.
Bannon entered the net just as the battalion S-3 Air was finishing the report that he had directed him to make. Not surprisingly, most of the information was wrong. Colonel Brunn, the brigade commander, came back and asked the S-3 Air to confirm the battalion's current location.
Before he could respond, Bannon answered and gave the correct location and his assessment of the battalion's current status. He informed the brigade commander that the battalion was no longer capable of continuing the attack. Bannon ran down a list of the reasons why and waited for an answer. When he finished, there was a moment of silence on the brigade net while the grim news sank in. Then, without hesitation or a long-winded discussion, Colonel Brunn contacted the commander of the 1st of the 4th Armor and ordered him to pass through the mech battalion and continue the attack north as the brigade's lead element. Brunn came back to Bannon, ordering him to rally the battalion and to keep the brigade S-3 posted on its status. For the moment, Task Force 1 st of the 78th Infantry was out of
the war.
As Garger led his platoon through the area where C company and the Soviet tank company had been wiped out,
he realized that he was seeing another aspect of war that he had so far missed: the aftermath. Up to this point, all his battles had been at long range. He had taken part in the run through the town of Arnsdorf with the CO
during the defense of Hill 214, where they had been eyeball to eyeball with the Russians. But that action was fast, a blur of activity in a heated night action.
This was different. The slow movement of the Team through the battle area offered him ample opportunities to view the debris of battle more closely. There were the smashed vehicles, tanks, and PCs. Some burned fiercely while others showed no apparent damage, almost as if their crews had simply stopped their vehicles. It was the dead and the dying that were most unsettling. Here a tank crewman hung halfway out of a burning tank, his body blackened and burning. Over there a group of dead infantrymen who had abandoned their PC, cut down by the advancing Soviet tanks. Everywhere the lightly wounded were moving about, sorting out those who could be helped and those who were beyond help. Garger didn't want to watch. He wanted to
turn away. But that was not possible. The horror of the scene had a fascination that held his attention.
The time span could not have been more than two minutes from when the firing in the valley to the west had stopped and the sound of advancing tanks coming from the east was detected. Polgar heard the squeak of the sprockets just as the forward security team he had sent out reported that there were tanks coming down the trail fast. Polgar had to remind them to report the type and number of tanks they were observing. Sheepishly, the NCO in charge of the security element reported three T-72s moving across an open area in the woods toward where Polgar had deployed the rest of the Platoon.
Instead of defending at the tree line where the security element was located, he had decided to set up deep in the woods where his people would have the greatest advantages and the tanks would be the most vulnerable and helpless. The Dragons would be worthless in this fight. The antitank guided missile they fired needed to fly some distance before
the warhead armed. There wasn't enough standoff distance here for that to happen. This fight was going to be strictly man against tank at very close range. For this, the Mech Platoon was ready.
Polgar observed the tanks as they came. The tank commanders were up in the cupolas pushing their tanks forward for all they were worth. They did not seem to be concerned with security. The fact that the lead element had passed through these woods without incident apparently satisfied this group of Russian tankers that the trail was clear. Besides, they were hell-bent to join the lead element as fast as possible. In a twisted bit of humor, Polgar thought to himself as he watched the T-72s advance that all three would very soon be joining their comrades in the valley wherever good Communists go when they die.
Polgar and his men were far more relaxed as they waited to spring this ambush than they had been on Hill 214. The big Soviet tanks could be defeated. The men and the leaders in the Mech Platoon knew this now. They hadn't been too sure the first day or that night on the hill. They were veterans now, however, and knew what they could do. To some it was almost a contest, a challenge of sorts. Infantrymen were always trying to prove to tankers that they could easily do in their archrivals on the battlefield. The detonation of the first antitank mine was their cue to do so again. As the platoon went into action, there was nothing for Polgar to do. Every man had been briefed on his role and went into action as planned. Machine gunners and riflemen cut down the tank commanders before they could respond or drop down inside the tanks. Other infantrymen with light antitank rocket launchers, called LAWs, began to fire. One LAW is not enough to kill a tank. Sometimes it would take up to twelve LAWS before the tank died. Because of this Polgar had organized four-man tank killer teams under an NCO. Each man had several LAWs. The NCO would designate the target tank and fire. Each of the men would then fire in turn against the same tank. In this way, the first two tanks were rapidly dispatched.
The third tank, seeing the plight of the first two, began to back up. It didn't get far, however.
Two infantrymen, on
opposite sides of the trail, pulled a mine attached to a rope onto the trail under the third tank as it backed up. The detonation destroyed the engine but did not kill the crew. The crew began to spray the woods indiscriminately with machine-gun fire in an effort to kill some of their unseen assailants.
A squad leader in charge of this area called for smoke. Several men threw grenades that erupted into billowing clouds of colored smoke. Once this smoke screen was thick enough to provide cover, the squad leader maneuvered his tank killer team into position behind the tank where he knew the turret would not be able to be turned on them. For several seconds the LAW gunners waited for the smoke to clear. Once they had a clear shot, the LAW
gunners began to fire. First the NCO, then the next man. Then the third. At the range they were engaging from, no one was missing. The LAWS slammed into the crippled tank one after the other at a measured interval. As Polgar watched, he knew the third tank was doomed.
So did the crew of the tank. Deciding that there was no point in dying for the Motherland just for the sake of dying, they surrendered. The tank gunner stuck his hand up out of the commander's hatch and waved a white rag. Both Polgar and the NCO in charge of the LAW
gunners ordered a cease-fire. This was something new. They were finally going to meet the enemy. A defeated enemy.
Once the firing stopped, the gunner slowly began to emerge. Looking around, he continued to climb out. When he saw the first American, he stopped and waved the white rag again, just to be sure. The gunner didn't move until the American signaled him to climb down. As he did so, the driver opened his hatch and climbed out and onto the ground.
The Russians were terrified. They were searched at gunpoint, their pistols and anything else that could be used as a weapon were stripped from them. While this search was in progress, an NCO climbed up to check out the tank commander and the rest of the tank.
When it was discovered that the tank commander was still alive, two more infantrymen climbed up and gave the NCO a hand, lowering the
wounded Russian down and away from the tank while the medic was called. The Russian gunner and driver, seeing this, relaxed. The horror stories their political officers had told them about Americans killing prisoners were lies. They were safe. They would live.
As he worked on the wounded tank commander, the medic thought how ironic this was.
Less than two minutes ago everyone in the platoon was trying to kill this man. Now he was doing his damnedest to save the Russian's life. War was definitely screwed up. The medic hoped that someday someone would explain it all to him. But not right now. There was a man's life to save.
Bannon was in the process of gathering the commanders of Team Bravo and D company when Polgar reported the tanks. As soon as he heard about it, he ordered Uieski to take the Team's tanks up to the Mech Platoon's position. Once there he was to establish a defensive position blocking that trail with one tank platoon and the Mech Platoon and hold another tank platoon back as a reaction force.
His meeting with the other commanders was interrupted by the arrival of Major Jordan. A D
company PC making a sweep of the area found the major and the survivors of the command group in a ditch where they had taken cover when their tracks had been hit. Jordan was covered with mud and bloodstains but was physically all right. As soon as he saw the gathered commanders, he
smiled, "Bannon, I never thought that I would be so happy to see those damned tanks of yours as I was when they came rolling down. It was great.
" The Major talked fast and appeared hyper. That was not surprising. Given the spot he had just come from, it was to be expected.
"I'm glad to see you, sir. For awhile we thought the whole command group was gone. Did Colonel Reynolds make it?"
"He's been hit, hit bad. The medics have him now. His track and mine were hit in the first volley. That any of us survived is nothing short of a miracle. As it was, we had three dead and five wounded in the command group alone. How did the rest of the battalion do?"
While the major sat, drinking water and regaining his composure, Bannon went over the current status of the battalion. C company had, for all practical purposes, ceased to exist.
Two squads of infantry and their PCs as well as one ITV from C company had joined D
company. There were a number of individual stragglers being policed up but many of them were wounded.
As
all the officers and senior NCOs had been hit or were unaccounted for, it would take awhile to come up with a total casualty count for that unit. D company had lost three PCs and one ITV. Their total casualties included five dead, thirteen wounded, and three missing. Team Bravo hadn't lost anything. Team Yankee had one tank damaged, the 33 tank, with two wounded. In addition to the line companies, the command group had lost all three of their PCs. Overall, the battalion had lost fifteen PCs, three ITVs, and one tank during the Soviet counterattack. Even if the three tanks Polgar's people had go
tten were counted, the battalion had lost more than it had taken.
The 1st of the 4th began to roll past the major and his gathered commanders on the road headed north. The men of that battalion viewed the devastation on both sides of the road in silence as they went by. When the command group of the 1 st of the 4th rolled by, the S-3's track broke out of the column and came down to where Bannon, Jordan, and the other commanders were gathered. Major Shell, the battalion S-3, asked for a quick update on what information Major Jordan had so far about activity to the front and flank. Jordan gave him what he had, which wasn't much. Major Shell looked around for a moment, wished him luck, then mounted his track and took off to catch up with the rest of his command group.
Uleski's report that there were more Soviet tanks coming down the trail towards Team Yankee's position broke up the meeting. Bannon asked Jordan if
he had any orders for him. Still not completely caught up on the overall picture and somewhat shaken from his experience, Jordan replied, "No, just hold the flank." With that, Bannon mounted 66 and moved up to rejoin the Team.
Bob Uleski was still in the process of redeploying the Team when the Soviets appeared.
When he had arrived at the position, two of the three tanks the Mech Platoon had hit were burning and giving off clouds of thick black smoke. There was no doubt the next group of Soviets would be able to see the smoke and would put two and two together. The trick of hiding in the woods would not work a second time. After a quick consultation with Polgar, Uleski had 3rd Platoon and his tank deploy on either side of the trail at the tree line where the security element had been watching the open area in the woods. The Mech Platoon, divided into two groups, each with two Dragons, began to deploy to the tree lines on the north and south side of the open area. The plan was for the 3rd Platoon to bar the trail physically while the Mech Platoon hit the Soviets on both flanks. The Mech Platoon was not yet in position, however, when the Soviets started coming. The lead Soviet tank rolled out into the open and then stopped as soon as he saw the black smoke. It was obvious that the tank commander was reporting and would be able to see the 3rd Platoon sitting in the tree line at a range of six hundred meters. So Uleski ordered Garger to open fire. Two 3rd Platoon tanks quickly destroyed the T-72.
