Team Yankee

by Harold Coyle

  Not that he had to worry. Hebrock was normally a step ahead of him, issuing orders and checking out the tanks. The two of them went over the order, item by item, crossing out those parts that were not needed and adding things that Avery had overlooked. Hebrock was diplomatic in the manner in which he "advised" his platoon leader of what he needed to do and say. Even as he issued the order, Avery would occasionally look up at Hebrock for his approval.

  When the order had been given and the CO satisfied with the brief back, Hebrock advised his lieutenant to get some sleep. Only after the platoon sergeant assured him that there was nothing more to be done did Avery make the attempt. Attempt was all that he could manage.

  His mind was cluttered with thoughts, fears, and problems, real and imagined. Did he cover everything in his order? What if they got lost during the road march? How would he know when they were through the German lines? Would he remember all of his crew and platoon fire commands when they made contact? Would he be alive tomorrow? His mind did not stop. Sleep never came.

  The Team began its move at 1800 hours. The old German and his wife watched as they rolled out. First Sergeant Harrert left them two weeks worth of rations, an envelope with dollars and deutsch marks that he had collected, a first-aid kit, and two cans of gasoline. In order to keep them from having any trouble with German or U.S. authorities, a receipt with Bannon's signature, in English and German, identified those items left as payment in kind for services rendered by the old couple. The old woman cried, and the old man saluted as the tanks went past them. Bannon returned the salute. Watching them as 66 moved off made him think of his own parents. He thanked God that they did not have to suffer as these people did.

  As the Team column reached the proper march speed and interval, Garger leaned back in the cupola and relaxed. He considered the last twelve days and the changes that had occurred in him and the Team.

  The loss of his platoon sergeant was unfortunate. Pierson had taught him a lot and had been very patient with him. Had it not been for Pierson, Garger knew he would have been relieved. The thought of such a disgrace had been more terrifying to him than the prospect of combat. Garger had not only survived but had found that he had a natural talent for tanking and combat. The panic, the tenseness, the sick feeling in his stomach, the stammering he had experienced at Fort Knox and during his first weeks in the unit were gone. When the firing had started, everything seemed to fall in place. There was no panic, no fear. He had a clarity of mind that he had never experienced before. There was still much he needed to learn and the CO and XO had helped him a great deal while the Team was recovering.

  Eventually he would learn company tactics and all the ins and outs of staff work, for he knew that he could, and would, master his chosen profession.

  The road march to the forward assembly area was a hard and wearing one for Avery. His inability to sleep that afternoon compounded his apprehensions and nervousness. Garger had told him before they left that he was going to have to lighten up or he would have a nervous breakdown before the first Russian got a chance to shoot at him. His friend had meant that as lighthearted but sound advice. Avery had tried to relax but found himself worried now about having a nervous breakdown. That would be disastrous. At least he could live with a wound. Evacuation because of a nervous breakdown before the first battle was a disgrace too terrible to contemplate. Only the sudden realization that he no longer knew where he was caused Avery to divert his attention from his fears of suffering a nervous breakdown to his fear that he wouldn't be able to find his location again on the map.

  Shortly after 2200 hours the Team pulled into the forward assembly area. The movement in and occupation of the marked positions went like clockwork. In peacetime maneuvers the Team had never had such a smooth road march and assembly area occupation. Bannon greeted Uleski as he dismounted from 66, "Well, Bob, you've done good. Real good. Have you been able to coordinate with the people we'll be passing through?"

  "Yes, sir. I was forward this afternoon in their positions and have gone over the route several times. It's a piece of cake."

  "What about the Russians? What have they been up to and does the unit have any information on them?"

  "Well, first off, they're not Russians. They're Poles. The Poles hit them just after I arrived there. It appeared that the Russians hadn't told them where the Germans were because they just rolled right up to the Germans in column formation. The German company commander let them come into his positions before he cut loose. The Poles never had much of a chance. They were cut to pieces. The company commander was killed but his XO took over and is still holding. Our battalion XO passed word down to us that the German battalion commander expects them to make another try sometime tonight."

  "What kind of units are we facing?" "Tanks so far, T-55s. Real second-class stuff."

  "Hey, that's OK by me. I get paid the same amount for blowing away old tanks as I do for tangling with tanks that don't want to die. Tell me, do you have any qualms about going up against your own people, Bob?" "Sir, those aren't my people. They're as red as the Russians. I'd rather be killing Russian Communists but, if all we have is Polish Communists, they'll do."

  Uleski's cold, unfeeling remark sent a chill down Bannon's spine. The dark side of First Lieutenant Uleski had come out again, the side that worried his commander. Bannon wondered if his hatred would cloud his judgment. He hoped not. For his sake and his crew's, he hoped not.

  "Bob, make sure all the people that came with you make it back to where they belong. Then gather up the leadership and have them meet me here."

  The battalion S-3 came into the company area while Uleski was briefing the Team's leaders. Major Jordan waited until the XO was finished before he gave them his information. The battalion was closed up and ready. The 1st of the 4th Armor as well as the artillery battalions would also be in place on time. So far, all had gone well. As far as anyone could tell, the Polish unit didn't know of the battalion's presence. Things would go as planned.

  Team Yankee would lead out at 0330 hours. At 0350, two battalions of U.S. and one battalion of German artillery would begin a ten-minute preparation on the Polish forward positions, both identified and suspected. At 0400 hours, Team Yankee's lead element, the 3rd Platoon, would pass through the German positions and begin the attack. If all went well, by early afternoon the battalion would be on the Saale River waiting for the 1st of the 4th Armor to pass through and drive on to Leipzig. This, of course, didn't take into account any Soviet reaction. The Soviets would surely do their damnedest to smash the brigade somewhere along the line. But there was always the possibility that maybe, just maybe, this time the plan might work.

  Once all the last-minute details had been covered, and all the questions answered, the meeting broke up. The platoon leaders went back to pass the word on and answer any questions their TCs had. When everyone was gone, Bannon climbed onto 66, and told Folk that they would split guard duty. Jokingly, he told his gunner that since Folk had gotten so much sleep during the road march he would pull first shift while Bannon would pull second.

  Without further ado, Bannon rolled out his sleeping bag on top of the turret and went to sleep.

  After Avery and Hebrock finished putting out the information they had to the other TCs, Hebrock told his platoon leader to forget about pulling any duty between now and the move-out time and instead go to bed. Avery was too far gone to argue. By now, he had just about worried himself to death. It took all of his effort to keep his eyes open. While the lieutenant leaned against 21 for support, Tessman threw a sleeping bag down to Hebrock who spread it out next to the track. Avery didn't even bother to take his boots off. He simply flopped down, wrapped one side of the sleeping bag over himself, and passed out from exhaustion. He stayed in the same position until he was roused at 0310 hours.

  Team Yankee missed colliding head-on — with the expected Polish attack by fifteen minutes.

  Again the fortunes of war smiled on the Team. Instead of having to go forward an
d dig out the Polish tank and motorized infantry from their defensive positions, the Poles came out and were smashed by the combined weight of the German defensive fires and the artillery that was already scheduled to fire. In war, one's good fortune is sometimes nothing more than a matter of timing: being, at the right place at the right time. Had a staff officer or the brigade commander set the time of attack at 0330, it would have been the Poles enjoying the advantage. As it was, Team Yankee gained a double advantage. Not only did the Poles impale themselves on the Germans' defenses and save the Team the trouble of seeking them out, they allowed the Team to get an extra half hour's sleep.

  The sound of the raging battle to their front, the eerie shadows caused by the illumination rounds as they floated down to earth, and the flash from impacting artillery rounds made the crossing of the East German border seem unreal. It was like a scene from a cheap science-fiction movie. Moments like this, when one is not actually involved in the fight but close enough to see and hear it, is when fear reaches a peak. The fear of failure. The fear of being ripped apart by artillery. The fear of death. All these fears run through the mind as a soldier closes to do battle. Once engaged, training and instinct take over. Fear is pushed aside by the necessity to fight or die. But before, when there is still the chance to back out, the rational mind pleads for reason, to stop, to quit before combat is joined. The tank, however, keeps going forward and ignores the rational mind. Combat will be joined, despite reason and one's better judgment.

  As Sergeant Polgar's personnel carrier eased down the ramp into the antivehicle ditch that ran along the East German border, he became elated. After being in the Army for sixteen years, something he was doing was making sense. He recalled how, as a private in Vietnam, he and his buddies felt frustrated and betrayed when they had to break off pursuit of the North Vietnamese as soon as they came up to the Vietnamese border. They were never allowed — to go all the way in and finish the enemy and the war. He had been in Korea in 1977 when two American officers were hacked to death with axes in broad daylight by North Korean soldiers, and no action was taken to retaliate. He remembered the 444 days of embarrassment when a third-rate nation, Iran, held Americans hostage, and the Army wasn't able to free them. Like others in the military, the half-measures and restrictions placed on the U.S. military didn't make sense to him.

  This attack, however, did make sense. For the first time in his military career, he was carrying the war into the enemy's homeland. He and his soldiers were going to be given a chance to strike at the heart of the enemy. No more running up to an imaginary line and then stopping while some politician reflected on what move would come out best on the next public opinion poll; no more letting the enemy run into a safe hole to lick his wounds and come out again at a time and place of his choosing, as in Vietnam. The Army was going to rip out the enemy's heart and drink his blood. That made sense to Polgar. That was the only way to fight a war.

  For a moment Colonel Reynolds considered halting the attack to allow the Germans to sort out the situation before the battalion passed. When he called Bannon and told him to be prepared to halt in place, Bannon immediately called back and told him to let the Team go.

  The Poles were pulling back. This was the ideal time to strike, while they were still confused.

  The enemy obviously didn't know the battalion was coming; otherwise, they would not have attacked. They had T-55s with old sights. Team Yankee had thermal sights. This was the time to speed up, not slow down. The colonel agreed and told him to go for it. When Bannon dropped to the Team net and ordered Garger to pick up speed, to hit hard, and to keep rolling, all he got back from 3rd Platoon was a simple "I heard that."

  The 3rd Platoon rolled through the German positions, deploying into a wedge as they went, and engaging the fleeing Poles. The surprise was complete. Some of the Polish tanks attempted to return fire. They had to stop to shoot, however, and this telegraphed their intentions. Garger's people quickly singled them out and destroyed them. Other Polish tanks simply picked up speed and attempted to get out of the way. In this too, they failed. For once, the Americans had better and faster tanks. 3rd Platoon kept up the pursuit and took out the retreating Poles one at a time. As they were closing in for the kill, Bannon directed the FIST to shift the artillery fires to the left and the right of the Team's axis of advance and to fire smoke as well as HE. This would keep the Polish infantry still in defensive positions facing the Germans pinned as the Team passed through their front line. Once Team Yankee was in their rear, those Poles still facing the Germans would be obliged to retreat or surrender.

  The speed of the 3rd Platoon's attack was causing the Team to become spread out.

  Bannon was right behind 3rd Platoon and found it difficult to catch up. The 2nd Platoon was behind 66 but still in column. He was sure that the PCs in the Mech Platoon would soon be falling behind. Reluctantly, he ordered the 3rd Platoon to slow down in order to allow the rest of the Team time to deploy. He didn't want to go charging off with only half of the Team, as had happened at Hill 214. He doubted if they would be lucky a second time. Once the tanks in front of 66 began to slow, Bannon had the driver swing 66 over to the left of the 3rd Platoon and ordered the 2nd Platoon to pick up speed and deploy to the left of 66.

  The scene before him was incredible. Dante's Inferno could not have been more terrible. In his wildest dreams Avery could not have imagined such chaos and pandemonium. Artillery impacted with no rhyme or reason. The exchange of fire between the lead tanks and the Poles continued. Colored star clusters were popping overhead. Burning tanks were everywhere. Mortar and artillery illumination rounds cast a sickly pale light on everything. The bucking and jolting of 21 running at full throttle to catch up with the CO's tank tossed him about in the cupola. Then, in the middle of this, the CO came up on the net and in a matter of fact manner ordered the 2nd Platoon to deploy to his left. Avery had no idea where he was and even less idea where the CO was. The best the lieutenant could do was give a "ROGER-OUT" on the radio and continue to head in the direction that the CO' s tank was headed the last time he had seen it.

  As 21 crested a hill in search of 66 and the 3rd Platoon, it almost collided with another tank that appeared to its left. Only a quick order to

  the driver to go right prevented the accident. The TC in the other tank had also seen the near collision at the last minute and had swung to the left some. The two tanks then straightened out and began to run side by side at a distance of twenty meters. Avery was relieved. He had found the CO's tank. As he was about to key the net to order his platoon to begin to deploy, it dawned upon him that the direction of travel of the tank to his left didn't make sense. If the CO's tank was to appear, it should have been to his right, not to the left. He leaned over to take a better look at the tank to his left.

  A T-55! It was a goddamned T-55! The sudden realization that he was running side by side with a Polish tank was numbing. It was the sensation of urine running down his leg that galvanized Avery into action. He began to slew the turret and issue his fire command.

  "GUNNER-BATTLESIGHT-TANK!"

  The target was so near and the thermal sight image so uniformly green that Tessman didn't recognize the object in his sight as a tank. "CANNOT

  IDENTIFY!"

  The belligerent move by 21 caused the Polish tank commander to give 21 a closer look. He, too, realized his error and began to lay his gun. Tessman repeated his call, "CANNOT IDENTIFY!"

  "FROM MY POSITION-ON THE WAY!"

  Avery fired the main gun from his override without bothering to go down to his sight. The report of 21's gun and the impact on target were as one. The T-55 veered off to the left, stopped, and began to burn. For a moment Avery simply stood there and watched the T-55 as 21 continued to roll forward. The loader's report of "UP!" broke his trance. "CEASE FIRE."

  The retreat of the Poles had lost all form and formation. They were everywhere. Most of the tanks were gone, destroyed or scattered. Now Garger and his platoon were coming acros
s trucks and personnel carriers. As the platoon crested one knoll, they came face to face with a battery of heavy mortars. The tanks didn't even break stride. They simply continued to roll forward, firing at the fleeing mortarmen with machine guns and crushing the mortars under their tracks. Gerry Garger was impatiently awaiting word to move out at top speed again.

  The whole Polish rear area was in an uproar. He wanted to finish them before they were able to reorganize. The CO came over the Team net again and ordered the 3rd Platoon into a right echelon. Garner ordered his platoon into the required formation and watched them as they did so. The tanks dropped back and took up their assigned stations, swinging their guns to cover the Team's right flank. It was already becoming light. Garger turned in the cupola and watched 66 come up on his left. Behind 66 he could barely make out the forms of the 2nd Platoon tanks coming on fast. Once they were up, the Team could continue on.

  Unless something terrible happened, they would be able to reach the Saale River that afternoon with ease.

  Finally, 66 was in sight. He hadn't lost the Team. Avery felt relieved. Then, the first humorous thought that he had had since his arrival in Germany ran through his mind: that made the second time that morning that he had been relieved. He thought about the near brush with the T-55 and his reactions. Hip shooting a tank main gun was not in the book, any book. But what the hell, it had worked. Tank 21 had killed the Pole and saved its hide. The platoon had caught up and was deployed to the left of the CO's tank. With the exception of his wet pants, all was working out rather well so far. Avery began to think that maybe he would make it as a platoon leader after all. He was a veteran and 21 had earned its first kill ring.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Red Dawn

  Just prior to dawn, Colonel Reynolds accomplished what the Poles had not been able to, stop Team Yankee. Bannon was sure the colonel would haveliked to let the Team keep going if he could have, but that was not possible. The colonel found it necessary to stop them, just as Bannon had been compelled to rein in the 3rd Platoon as it had forged out ahead of the Team. From the reports on the battalion command net, Bannon could tell all was not going well.