by Harold Coyle
The order had gone out to remain mounted throughout the assault. With few exceptions, there had been no return antitank fire to speak of.
Artillery fire had been light and had missed the fast-moving columns.
Every time American artillery did fire, a volley of rockets from the multiple-rocket launchers screamed overhead in return. All was in order, all going forward as planned.
It was at this point that Neboatov became nervous. All seemed to be going too well. It was much too easy, like a summer maneuver. The Americans were waiting. They were intentionally holding their fire until the battalion was in a fire sack. Nervously he glanced from side to side for telltale signs of a trap. He saw none. The lead companies continued forward, disappearing into the smoke laid by the artillery and generated by the tanks in the lead. No orders or warning came over the radio. Nothing to indicate a change in the situation or a trap.
The battalion rolled forward at twenty-four kilometers per hour on a collision course with the Americans.
The second artillery barrage stopped. The rumble of the advancing Soviet vehicles could be felt before it was heard. Duncan stuck his head up over the lip of the foxhole and peered into the smoke and dust thrown up by impacting artillery. He could see nothing. But he could hear. The squeaking of tank sprockets and the rumble of their engines were joined by the higher-pitched whine of the BMPs, the chatter of machine guns, the pop and whoosh of antitank guided missiles being fired, and closein detonations.
The two companies in the forward positions were in contact with enemy forces.
Duncan reached down for the field phone and tried to ring up the platoon's squad leaders. No one answered. No doubt the wires had been severed by the artillery. He turned to the radiotelephone operator and ordered him to contact the company commander. While the operator tried in vain to raise anyone on the company-command net, Duncan raised his head again to see what was going on.
To his left he saw one of his Dragon gunners prop up his missile launcher in preparation. The sound of advancing tanks and BMPs grew louder. So did the machine-gun fire. The bursts of M-16 and SAW rifle fire were overriden by the sound of unfamiliar small-arms fire. Russian PKs and AKs, probably.
Every now and then a tank main gun would fire or the sharp report of a 30mm. cannon would rip through the air. Still Duncan could see nothing.
Suddenly, it was there. Like an apparition, the T-80 tank burst forth, its main gun sweeping from side to side menacingly. It was searching for targets, Duncan's men. The blast of a Dragon firing caught Duncan's attention. He turned and saw that the Dragon gunner who was to his left had let fly his missile at a tank farther to the left.
Duncan watched the flight of the missile as it raced for the tank. But it never made it.
Instead, the missile looped up, hung in the air for a moment, then grounded itself in a great explosion. Duncan turned back to see what had caused that. The Dragon gunner was no longer visible. The launch tube was lying on its side, its bipod legs turned askew in the air. The gunner had been hit.
He was probably at the bottom of his foxhole, wounded or dead.
The image of a great dark form in the corner of his eye caught Duncan's attention. He dropped to the bottom of his foxhole just as the track of a T-80 tank crushed the overhead cover. Broken beams, dirt and sandbags rained down on Duncan and his radio operator. The earth shook and quivered as the BMPs following bypassed Duncan's shattered position.
Desperately the two men struggled to free themselves.
Once clear of the rubble, Duncan stood up and looked to his left and right.
The line of tanks and BMPs that had overrun his platoon's positions was clearly visible to their 194 rear as they continued to roll south. To the right, the second-echelon company was passing through where the 2nd Platoon's positions were. Down in the valley before him he could see more Soviet vehicles moving toward them.
In an instant, he knew there was nothing more they could do there.
Yelling to his radio operator to follow, Duncan grabbed his rifle and bounded out of the foxhole. The two men ran down the platoon's line of foxholes, stopping at each one while Duncan reached in and shouted to those men who appeared to be alive to get their gear and follow him.
Some obeyed. A few didn't. Many couldn't. Those who could leaped out of their holes and followed their platoon sergeant at a dead run as they sought escape to the west, away from Rafsanjan and into the vast wasteland.
Neboatov didn't realize that they had actually overrun the American positions until his company went rumbling past smashed 105mm. artillery pieces. He was shocked. He stood upright and turned to his rear, trying to see where the defensive positions had been. He couldn't. It had all been too easy. Perhaps they hadn't yet hit the main defensive belt. Perhaps the Americans had withdrawn to better defensive positions during the day.
Bewildered, Neboatov returned his attention to the front and continued to follow the progress of the lead companies, watch the alignment of his platoons and listen for orders on the battalion radio net.
Chapter 11
Nothing is easy in war. Mistakes are always paid for in casualties and troops are quick to sense any blunder made by their commanders.
— DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER
Bandar Abbas 2055 Hours, 30 June (1725 Hours, 30 June, GMT)
The offloading of the ships was surprisingly easy and fast despite the poor facilities and the damage to the port. Sufficient ramps and piers had been cleared to allow the RO-RO ships to come in and disgorge their contents with the speed and ease for which they were built. Had all the ships arrived, the whole movement from the States, with a few exceptions, would have been a complete success.
Not all the ships had made it. Four had been sunk en route and another badly damaged. Two of the ships lost had been carrying munitions and supplies. Two had equipment belonging to both the active-duty maneuver brigades of the 25th Armored Division and the division's support command.
While the loss of any one of the ships was serious, the loss of four and the nature of the loss were crippling. Rather than being able to field two fully equipped combat brigades, the division now had only enough equipment and supplies to field one weak brigade with two maneuver battalions instead of the normal three.
The bulk of the division's personnel had been held at Ras Banas, outside the war zone, until it could be determined which units would provide the people to man the limited amount of equipment that was available. It wasn't until the evening of 28 June that the 3rd of the 4th Armor and the 1st of the 29th Infantry were alerted that they, along with the 5th of the 55th Field Artillery, would deploy the next day to receive what equipment was available and form the 2nd Brigade. These units, once in Iran, would be equipped by pooling together the remaining equipment. Plans to use U.S. Army equipment pre-positioned in Europe were being discussed in Washington and at NATO Headquarters in Brussels, but no decision had been made. Every new move to divert units or equipment tagged for NATO was met with alarm by the NATO Allies. Still, in time, some equipment from Europe would be made available. Until then those personnel not required and without equipment stayed in Egypt until the equipment was available or they were required as replacements.
The arrival of the ships in the early-morning hours of the thirtieth was greeted by the personnel of the three battalions, the brigade headquarters and support units. Those selected to drive the vehicles off the ships and out of the port area stood and watched the ships of the convoy enter the port and tie up to the piers. At first an effort was made to off load the ships in an orderly manner, one unit at a time. This, however, quickly broke down due to the manner in which the ships had been loaded and intermittent air raids that sent ships' crews and military personnel alike scrambling for cover. Instead, the first driver who was handy and who thought he could operate the next vehicle in line was grabbed, put into the driver's hatch or behind the wheel and directed to drive to the appropriate equipment holding areas around the port area. MPs at the exit
leading from the dock were instructed to direct all tanks to one area, all artillery pieces to another, trucks to a third, Bradley fighting vehicles to a fourth, and anything that didn't look like the others to 197 a fifth area called the Mox Nix area, from the German macht nichts, "it makes no difference."
This caused great confusion as unit commanders and supply officers sorted through the holding areas in an effort to put their units together. Beyond the initial marshaling areas, a staging area for each unit had been designated. It was the task of the battalion commanders and their staffs to find the vehicles they needed, gather up drivers needed to move them to staging areas, and assemble their units. There full crews married up the vehicles, and the process of forming platoons, then companies and finally battalions was begun. This assembling of the equipment and personnel and formation of units, however, did not complete the preparations. The combat units still had to draw supplies, fuel and ammunition, commodities that were on other ships and that had to be retrieved and issued by supply units, once they had assembled and formed.
Major Scott Dixon sat in the driver's seat of a hummer that Sergeant Nesbitt had procured earlier for him and watched the comings and goings along the dock areas. It was the scene at Beaumont, Texas, all over again, only in reverse. How much easier it would have been had the battalions been loaded as entire units. So simple. Then it occurred to him that he had not seen the S.S. Cape Fear, the ship that the equipment of the 3rd of the 4th had originally been loaded onto. For a second, his curiosity was piqued. He wondered whether the Cape Fear and its crew of obnoxious seamen had made it. The thought soon passed.
He had a hell of a headache and was not about to wander up and down the docks looking for a ship that might not even be there. Besides, whether it was there or not made no difference. The unit had already secured enough tanks and Bradleys to reach full TOE strength.
Perhaps, someday, if he survived this campaign, he would look it up in a history book and see whatever became of the Cape Fear.
Headquarters, 13th Airborne Corps, in Bandar Abbas, Iran 2105 Hours, 30 June (1735 Hours, 30 June, GMT)
Since his arrival in the country, Lieutenant General Weir had been greeted with one shock after another. He had come ahead to study the situation and prepare himself and his staff for when the 10th Corps headquarters was activated and assumed operational control of its subordinate units. His arrival, however, could not have come at a worse time. He was able to observe the collapse of the 13th Corps's defensive perimeter firsthand. A current situation update given to him before leaving Washington had not prepared him for what he found and in no way matched reality as viewed from Bandar Abbas.
Tactically, the situation was, at best, desperate. The corps had been deployed almost haphazardly as its subordinate units arrived in the country. The 52nd Infantry, Division (Mechanized) had only its two active-duty brigades. That division, last to arrive, was deployed in the west, sent there because the main Soviet threat had appeared to be coming from that direction. It was now obvious that that threat had been a grand deception to draw the 13th Corps's attention away from the true main effort. Unfortunately, the 52nd Division was now too heavily committed and was unable to break contact without endangering the entire defensive perimeter.
The 17th Airborne Division, first in, was deployed in the east. After it had secured the initial airhead and pushed it out as far as Tarom, the follow-on division, the 12th Division, had leapfrogged over it and assumed responsibility for the center. The 17th Airborne had reassembled, rested and then redeployed two brigades with the mission of linking up with the 6th Marine Division operating out of Chah Bahar, but could maintain only very tenuous contact because of the vast distances between the two units.
The third brigade of the 17th had been held in reserve by 13th Corps at Saadatabad, ready to respond to a penetration at any point or deal with Iranian guerrillas. The penetration that came on 28 June had been against the 12th Division.
Two Soviet divisions, one motorized rifle and one tank, reinforced with additional assets from — the 28th Combined Arms Army, formed the main effort that hit at Rafsanjan. A motorized rifle division moving through the Zagros Mountains had been responsible for conducting deception operations and supporting attacks against the 52nd Infantry Division.
While the 52nd was able to hold its own, trading ground for time, the 12th had, after two days of combat, ceased to exist as a combat-effective division. Of nine infantry battalions assigned to the division, four had been overrun on the first day of the attack and had not been heard of since. Two had been cut off and encircled. Two of the remaining three battalions had been mauled as they attempted to fight a delaying action at Pariz on the road that led from Rafsanjan to Bandar Abbas. An assault at Kerman had crippled the division's combat-aviation brigade, destroying many of its helicopters and most of the maintenance and support units required to maintain them. While the rest of the division base, consisting of the headquarters, supply and maintenance units and engineer and air-defense units, remained relatively intact, the combat elements were gone.
The Air Force was committing everything it had in an effort to sever the Soviet advance from its lines of communication. Strikes against the Soviets' supply lines and identified supply dumps were run round the clock.
The Soviets, however, anticipating such an effort, had reduced the number of ground-combat units committed to the bare minimum and used all the air-defense units from uncommitted units to cover their lines of communication. The smaller number of units required fewer supplies, and the roads needed to move those supplies along were better protected. As a result, the efforts of the Air Force had yielded few tangible results in comparison to a high cost — in lost aircraft and pilots.
On the ground, the corps reserve had been committed, but in a piecemeal fashion. Since it was clear that the paratroopers would not be able to stop the advancing Soviet columns, company-sized units were being inserted by helicopter along the Soviets' main axis of advance, to conduct anti armor ambushes, a form of delaying action. The idea was to establish a roadblock with mines and craters under cover of darkness. When the Soviets hit the barrier, they were attacked with antitank guided missiles launched from covered and concealed positions. The company was then evacuated by helicopter before the Soviets were able to turn on the ambushers in force.
Done properly, it was an effective method of delaying an enemy. But it only delayed them. To stop and defeat the Soviets, heavy forces-tanks and Bradleys-were needed. That was where the 25th Armored Division, and particularly the 2nd Brigade, came in.
What disturbed Weir more than the tactical situation, grim as it was, was the state of despair that permeated the corps staff. The commander of the 13th Corps, once a boastful and somewhat arrogant man, always in charge, had said barely two words throughout the entire evening update briefing.
When Weir asked him directly what his intentions were concerning the employment of the 25th Armored Division, he had looked at Weir rather absentmindedly and said, "I'm not sure. We're going to have to study that some," then turned and walked away to his office. There was the smell of defeat in the air throughout the headquarters of the 13th Corps. Because of this, Weir fought orders that temporarily attached the 25th Armored Division to that corps.
Weir contacted the Commander in Chief of CENT COM, demanding that the 10th Corps be activated immediately. The CINC listened to Weir's recommendations but decided that it was unwise to change commanders and headquarters in the middle of the battle. The CINC wanted the situation to stabilize before he commit ted the 10th Corps so that he could use it to conduct a counteroffensive. To commit the entire corps to the defense would mean pissing away his only viable offensive ground-maneuver force. Weir countered that unless the 10th Corps was committed, there would be no ground left to conduct the counteroffensive over. While the CINC was willing to let some of the 10th Corps units join the battle in progress in order to stabilize the situation, he didn't want to lose them all in defensive operations
. The bulk of the 10th Corps, in the meantime, would stay out of the battle and assemble in the rear.
For a while, Weir considered going straight to his friend Lieutenant General Horn, then decided against it. Going over the head of his immediate commander could lead to his dismissal. The last thing Weir wanted to do was get thrown out of the war before he got into it.
South of Rafsanjan 2345 Hours, 30 June (2015 Hours, 30 June, GMT)
The grinding of gears and the laboring of truck engines in the distance were the only noises that penetrated the cool night air. A heavily laden supply column led by a Soviet BRDM armored car en route to the front was slowly making its way up an incline. In another two minutes the column would come to a bend in the road just before it crested the hill. There it would be met by Sergeant First Class Duncan and the men of the 1st Platoon.
After escaping the Soviet onslaught, Duncan had rallied his men and taken them into hiding a few kilometers away. There he took stock of what he had.
That wasn't very much. Seventeen men had followed him out of the foxholes.
They brought with them their individual weapons, a couple of dozen hand grenades, some claymore nines, eight LAW antitank-rocket launchers and two Dragon missiles. Food was almost nonexistent, and they had only the water in their canteens. The one thing that the platoon had plenty of was 5.56mm. ammo for their rifles and squad automatic rifles, or SAWs.
As Duncan was checking, it became obvious that none of the men, including him, had fired a rifle. There simply had not been any targets that small-arms fire would have had an effect on.
The first major problem Duncan faced was getting his men over the shock of the disaster they had just survived. Once out of danger, they fell into a state of despondency. One man kept asking no one in particular,
"What happened? What in the hell happened?" over and over. Duncan himself was bewildered and in a stupor. The image of his lieutenant's body still caused a violent reaction. Never having been confronted with a situation of the magnitude he now faced, Duncan did what came naturally to him, what he had been trained for: being a soldier and a leader.
