by Harold Coyle
Now the two A-lOs, having barely made it back from behind the enemy lines, were being diverted into a holding pattern where they would wait until a good target was nominated. It made sense. It would have been dumb to send the aircraft back to the air field loaded with ordnance. But Snowman wasn't interested in logic right now. He was madder than hell for wasting their time and being sent on a worthless mission. If someone didn't come up with a good mission fast, he was going to lead the other A-10 to Flight Ops and bomb it, just for the hell of it.
The Team was making good progress, too good. Colonel Reynolds called Bannon and ordered him to slow down. C company was having a hard time keeping up, creating a large gap between Team Yankee and it. The colonel wanted to keep the companies close together. Bannon turned around in the cupola and looked back at the Mech Platoon. They were having no problem keeping up with the tanks. He couldn't imagine what the problem was with C company. Those boys were having a rough morning.
As he prepared to give the necessary orders to slow their rate of advance, the thought occurred to him that the longer he took to give the order, the farther they would go. At their current speed, every second he delayed meant the Team advanced another meter. The faster they went, the less time the Soviets had to throw something at them. A few extra minutes could mean the difference between seizing a bridge over the Saale intact or finding them all destroyed. Of course, speed could work against the Team. If it got far ahead and ran into trouble, the rest of the battalion might not be able to catch up in time to pull its chestnuts out of the fire. Orders were orders and, as they say, discretion was the better part of valor. Team Yankee slowed down for the third time that morning.
As his tanks began to spill out of the woods onto the slope overlooking the valley, the Soviet tank company commander gave one short command. Like the well-drilled machine it was, the company rapidly deployed into a combat line. Once all the tanks were on line, they began to pick up speed and search for targets.
From their vantage point, this was not a difficult task. Before them, on the valley floor deployed in a great vee, was a company of armored personnel carriers and TOW vehicles being led by a small gaggle of three more personnel carriers. A quick count revealed that there were at least fifteen, maybe as many as twenty personnel carriers to their front less than four kilometers away. It had to be an American mechanized infantry company. The Russian commander watched the advance of his tanks, now moving at a rate of over forty kilometers per hour. The absence of American tanks with the personnel carriers worried him. The fact that the personnel carriers were M-113s and not the new Bradleys pleased him. But there had been reports of tanks. He would have, liked to have taken out the tanks in the first volley. They were the greatest threat to his company. The M-113s would have been easy to deal with after the tanks. But, without any tanks in sight, the American mechanized company would be dealt with first. No doubt, once the shooting began, the American tanks would come out of hiding.
Even with his CVC on and 66's engine running, the sharp crack of tank cannons firing was clearly audible to Bannon as the sound reverberated through the valley. Automatically, he straightened up and looked around to see who was under fire. There were no telltale puffs of smoke or dust clouds from tank cannons to the front. A quick scan to the rear revealed nothing. Someone was shooting someone.
"BRAVO 3 ROMEO-THIS IS ROMEO 25-WHO IS UNDER FIRE AND WHERE'S IT COMING FROM? OVER."
Both tank platoons rapidly reported back that they were not under fire. It was the Mech Platoon that provided the answer.
"ROMEO 25-THIS IS ZULU 77-1 THINK THE PEOPLE THAT WERE FOLLOWING US ARE UNDER ATTACK-I CAN SEE SEVERAL FIRES BEHIND US OVER."
Bannon turned completely around in the cupola and stood as high as he could. In the distance, to the rear of the Mech Platoon, he now could clearly see four pillars of black smoke rising into the air. C company had been hit. But from where? By whom? And why no reports from battalion? He dropped down and switched to the battalion net to try to contact the battalion commander. When there was no response, Bannon tried to contact the S-3. Still no luck.
It was the D company commander who told him what was going on. In rapid-fire fragments he reported that C company was under attack from Soviet tanks coming from the east. He went on to report that he was deploying his company into a hasty defense along the road from Issel to Korberg. There was no time to get away. With that, he dropped off the net and stayed off despite Bannon's efforts to contact him. No doubt he was busy running his company.
He then contacted the Team Bravo commander to learn if he was in contact. Lieutenant Peterson reported that he was not in contact but could see the Soviet tanks coming down off the hill to the east. He estimated that there were at least ten, maybe more. He couldn't make out what kind they-were but since they were shooting on the move and hitting, he figured that they were T-72s or better.
It was clear that the battalion was in trouble. The battalion commander and the S-3 could not be reached. C company was probably scattered and fighting for its life. D company had checked out of the net as it prepared to greet the Russian onslaught. That left Team Yankee and Bravo with Bannon the senior officer. Suddenly he found himself in the position of being in command of half the battalion and having to come up with a solution to the nightmare or face losing the whole damned battalion. As these thoughts ran through his mind like a runaway locomotive, Team Yankee continued to move north, away from the battle, at a rate of one meter a second.
The Soviet tank company commander could feel the adrenaline run through his veins. They were closing on the Americans. Already a half-dozen personnel carriers were burning hulks with the rest scattering to get out of the way. All semblance of order had been lost as the Americans turned and ran. Surprise had been complete. Now they were reaping the benefits that their speed, fire, and shock effect had created.
With curt orders he directed the fire of his platoons. A report that there were more personnel carriers deploying to the west of the road drew his attention to the ten or twelve that were some three kilometers away. These carriers were dropping their ramps to let their infantry dismount. The tank company would have to finish the first enemy company fast and get to the second before they had time to set up a viable defense. Speed was critical! He began to issue new orders to his platoon leaders.
With little chance to think the whole problem out, Bannon began to issue orders. On the battalion net, he ordered Team Bravo to turn east, cross the north-south road, go about a kilometer, then turn south, and take the Soviets under fire in the flank with TOWS and tanks.
When Peterson acknowledged those orders, Bannon dropped down to the Team net and ordered the FIST chief to call for all the artillery and close air support he could and to get into position from which he could control it.
He then ordered the Mech Platoon to move to the southeast along the tree line into the gap formed by the two hills to their right. He was sure that the Soviets had come from there and expected more would follow. The Mech Platoon was to set up an antiarmor ambush in the woods and keep the Soviets from reinforcing the company already in the valley. The two tank platoons and the XO were ordered to follow 66.
As 66 turned east and headed up the hill to the tree line, Bannon explained over the Team net what they were going to do. Once they reached the tree line, they would turn south, following the tree line. When they got to the gap, if there were more Soviet tanks already coming out, they would hit them in the flank. If, however, Polgar got to the gap first, the tanks would turn west once they reached the gap and attack the Soviets in the rear. The Mech Platoon would be left to deal with any follow-on Soviets as best they could.
It was all Uleski could do to hang on. The Team commander had his tank roaring along the tree line at full speed, with the rest of the tanks in the Team trying hard to keep up. The Mech Platoon had taken off on its own as soon as it had its orders. To their right they could see the battle in the valley. A dozen burning tracks were scattered about the area
. The Soviet tanks were clearly visible as they fired and moved forward. At the ranges the Soviets were firing at, they seldom missed. Gwent, the gunner, kept his gun laid on the Soviets below. The range was too great even if the Team commander had given them permission to fire. At the rate they were moving, however, that would not be a problem in a few minutes.
Uleski could feel his blood rising as he worked himself into a rage in preparation for the upcoming battle. He stoked the fires of his hatred of the Soviets by recalling how his first driver, Thomas Lorriet, had died. The image of the young soldier's body on the ground that first day pushed aside any last shred of compassion he had for the enemy as he cursed the Russians out loud over the whine of 55's engine.
As his tank raced along behind 66, Garger realized that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
At first, it was frightening. Men were dying there in the valley. In a few minutes he would be in the middle of the fray, adding to the killing and, if his luck ran out, being killed himself. The very idea that he should be enjoying this seemed inappropriate at first. But there was no denying the feeling. He had never felt so alive. Standing in the turret of 31 as it raced along, the image of the U.S. cavalry riding out to the rescue flashed through his mind. The only things missing from this scene were the troop's guidon and a bugler sounding the charge.
This was his moment. This was why he had joined the Army. "To hell with it," Garger thought.
"This is great! Too bad it can't last. "
A frantic and incomprehensible report on the radio was the first indication that the Soviet tank company commander had that his company was under attack. He glanced to his right in time to see a second tank in his company burst into flames. The enemy tanks! They're on our flank! As if on cue from the enemy threat to his right, the mechanized infantry company that had deployed along the road began to fire antitank guided missiles. He was trapped.
Without a second thought, the tank company commander ordered his tanks to turn left and cut on their smoke generators. They had been lucky, and they had caused a great deal of damage. But the Americans were now gaining the upper hand. It was time to break off this attack and wait for the rest of the battalion before continuing.
Team Bravo was in position and firing before Team Yankee reached the gap and the point where they would turn. As soon as Sergeant Polgar reported that he was in place, Bannon ordered the tanks to execute an action right, form a line, and attack. Following 66's lead, the other tanks cut right and began to advance into the valley. Team Bravo's fire had been effective in forcing the Soviets to break off their attack and had thus relieved the pressure on D company. In a great cloud of smoke created by their smoke generators, the T-72 tanks that had survived disappeared to the south. Folk switched to the thermal sight and continued to track the Soviet tanks as they fled to the south. It was now a race. Would the Team be able to catch up to them in time to hit them? Right now, that didn't seem likely. Team Yankee's grand maneuver had been a bust. It had, by going too far out in front of the battalion, taken the Team out of the battle. Then it struck Bannon that this disaster, or at least part of it, had been his fault. Had he obeyed the battalion commander's orders to the letter, Team Yankee would have been closer to C company and able to support it when the Russians hit. A mech company in M-113s on the move was very vulnerable to enemy tanks.
Team Yankee should have been able to simply turn around and support the infantry. He had, however, been in a hurry to get out in front and reach the Saale. Now C company and the command group were gone, and the enemy was getting away.
Just as he finished his self-condemnation, the artillery began to impact to the front of the Soviet tanks. The FIST officer, Plesset, having seen the enemy turn south, adjusted the incoming artillery to where the enemy was headed. He had wanted the artillery to impact directly on the tanks but had misjudged the enemy's speed and distance. This error caused the Soviets to turn east to avoid the artillery. The rapid change of direction allowed them to escape the artillery, but drove them straight into the Team. The Soviets had either not seen Bannon's tanks and thought their turning east would be safe or they had decided to take on the Team rather than the artillery.
Whatever the reason, the Team now had a chance to finish the job. Without further hesitation, Bannon ordered the tanks to fire at will and issued his fire command as he laid 66's gun on the lead tank coming out of their smoke screen.
"ENEMY TANKS TO THE FRONT!"
The Soviet tank company commander snapped his head to the front in response to his gunner's yell. For a moment he was paralyzed with fear as he watched a line of M-l tanks bearing down on him. It had been a trap. The Americans fooled me and now we are lost. As improbable as it seemed, that was the only way the tank company commander could explain it. No matter now. There was no time for maneuver. No time to make decisions. The only thing left to 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 d
idn'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.
