He called his forward companies and warned them to be on the lookout for enemy probes into their sectors, particularly in and around the mine fields. It was imperative that the obstacles be in place by morning. When Bravo Company got into a major firefight at 0100, Always was glad he had urged vigilance. Mortar and artillery fire with variable time (VT) fuses had chopped up the enemy infantry, leaving them with two platoons of dead and wounded. Captain Baker immediately set to work to repair any breaches in the existing mine fields.
Always himself had slept between 2300 and 0200, awakened for thirty minutes during the fight at 0100. Despite his exhaustion, his sleep was not deep, and when he moved back into the TOC for a final update before leaving for Charlie Company he was having trouble focusing on the reports from the assistant S-3 and the S-2. He left instructions for a net call at 0300 and departed for his forward command post, located in the center of the defensive sector and north of BP 4. Major Rogers, realizing he could not observe adequately from the TOC, had already moved up in an armored personnel carrier to take his post on the right with Bravo Company; Major Walters was making final arrangements with the combat trains in regard to medical evacuation and was due at the TOC at 0300.
The big Bradley vehicle moved with surprising quiet across the desert floor. The sky was clear, full of stars that lent a serenity to the night air. Lieutenant Colonel Always relaxed, allowing his crew to do the lion’s share of maneuvering the fighting vehicle into position. The driver picked the way in the dark, helped by his night vision goggles, the gunner keeping a vigilant lookout for encroaching enemy. A few minutes before 0300 they crept into place beside Charlie Company, the artillery officer and the air force liaison officer close behind in their M113. For a moment Always allowed himself to enjoy the pleasant coolness of the early morning, then set to work memorizing the call signs that he would be using at a rapid-fire pace within the next hour.
The net call went well, all parties coming up and sharing information on work completed, unit strengths, and enemy sighted. The intelligence officer had the hardest task, having to make a best guess on which avenue of approach the enemy would use for his main attack. In fairness, it was virtually impossible to predict with any degree of certainty. The desert floor, being wide open at the forward edge of the battle area and extending so deep into the rear, gave the enemy ample opportunity to shift his direction of movement. Having to make a call, the S-2 chose the northern avenue as the most likely, hitting Echo Company in BP 1, then swinging north of Alpha at BP 5 before picking up the wadi that hugged the south face of the mountain range to the north. Always agreed that this seemed most likely but understood that anything could happen; he tried to keep an open mind about where the action was likely to break. He sought to instill that sense of flexibility in the minds of his commanders.
An enemy reconnaissance outpost element of two scouts had been picked up by Alpha Company atop Hill 910, but although questioned they either had no knowledge of or refused to reveal the enemy plan. Always’ own scouts had penetrated to the high ground forward of the battle area and so should be able to give him early warning of the direction of movement of the enemy. The radios checked, the intelligence shared, and the battalion brought to full alert, it was time to stand by for the attack.
Save the slight lightening of the sky in the east, 0400 came and passed without incident. Minutes ticked by slowly as the battalion strained to stay alert in the peaceful half-light. A morning haze was forming on the desert floor, partially obscuring the prominent terrain features so they could not be easily identified in the poor light.
“Bravo 36, this is Sierra 18.” It was the forwardmost scout calling to Always.
“This is 36.” The colonel looked at his watch. It was 0419.
“Bravo 36, this is Sierra 18. I can see smoke rising up over the haze beneath my position on Checkpoint 44.”
Always looked at his map with a pen flashlight. Smoke was going in beneath Hill 876, center of sector 4,000 meters west of PL FORWARD. A few minutes later other scout reports revealed that the smoke was settling in all across the front, with the wind taking it directly into the face of the task force. The battalion commander marveled at the enemy’s capacity for smoke production. Where did it all come from?
By 0435 the haze and smoke had combined to obliterate the view of the battle area by Bravo and Echo companies and all the ground in between. The thermal sights were of no use; although they were able to see through smoke, the attenuation of the haze and smoke made recognition of hot spots—the basis of the image—extremely difficult.
“Bravo 36, this is Sierra 18, over.”
“Three six. Send.”
“This is Sierra 18. I can’t see a thing, but I can hear a whole bunch of tracked vehicles moving to my north, over.”
“Roger, keep trying to see something. I need to know how much and what direction. Out.” Always noted that the first indications were that the S-2 had been right. He had the TOC check to ensure that everyone on the net had heard the scout report.
“Bravo 36, this is Echo 36. My forward elements have spotted a line of BMPs and T-72s coming at them. We’re taking them under fire. Over.” Captain Evans’s report was short and to the point.
“This is Bravo. Roger. Break. All stations this net, looks like enemy effort is coming in the north. Out.”
In the moment during which Always transmitted his message, three events combined to hazard any further update on this assessment. The TOC, long since located by enemy reconnaissance, came under extremely accurate artillery fire mixing high explosive and persistent chemical munition; Charlie Company came under chemical and smoke attack (Always was into his gas mask in an instant and was immediately unable to see a thing); and the battalion radio net was jammed. While this was happening, the lead company of the attacking motorized rifle regiment broke to the south and headed directly toward Bravo Company at BP 2. The battalion of which it was a part immediately followed to the rear of BP 2.
Always cursed to himself. By this time it was apparent that at the critical moment he was likely to have minimum command and control. He did not yet know that his TOC had gone out, but he did know that he could not speak to anyone, could hardly see beyond twenty meters in front of his vehicle, and that the fight was about to break on his forward elements. He had known this was likely to happen, but that knowledge did not make him like it any better. He resolved to keep his own sense of balance while his TOC worked everybody up on the alternate frequency and he could reestablish communications.
The smoke in his immediate vicinity was incredibly heavy, as if the enemy had singled him out as a target. He dispatched Private First Class Davis, a soldier he had brought with him from the TOC for just such an eventuality, to signal the artillery officer’s track that he was moving out. He then recovered the runner and shifted to the south in hopes of breaking free of the smoke. It was to no avail; more smoke descended to his front even as he moved.
In the meantime Captain Baker was making a valiant fight in and around Battle Position 2. The lead enemy company had run into the tank obstacle to Baker’s immediate north and was virtually annihilated there, but not before it began to open a breach. Bravo Company was handicapped by the chemicals falling on its positions and by its jammed radio net. Nonetheless, Baker had organized a good fight and was making the enemy pay a price. Major Rogers was in the vicinity and recognized that, contrary to the last report from Always, a lot of enemy were piling into the south, attempting to bypass Bravo Company. As he tried to move to a better vantage point to assist in the fight and at the same time reach his battalion commander by radio, he was hit by an RPG round that glanced off his turret. The concussion and the subsequent swerve by his driver propelled his helmeted head into the side of the interior of the Bradley, knocking him out cold.
Baker was able to bring the second company under fire and hold them in the tank ditch, his dismounted infantrymen putting up a vicious fight in and around the obstacle. The third enemy company of
the lead battalion, however, found a way around the obstacle, signaled the following battalion, and started a move to the east. The fight was going to come to a head at Battle Position 3, held by 1st Platoon of Charlie Company.
Echo and Alpha companies were frozen in place, not so much by enemy force (although they were taking a pounding from enemy artillery) as by the last report from their battalion commander that the main attack was coming at them. They strained to look through the lenses in the gas masks at the haze and smoke to their front. Echo Company was fixated further by the knowledge that it had killed at least two of the enemy vehicles originally sighted in the opening stages of the fight. Surely there would be more to come.
Major Walters had been wounded in the neck by the artillery crashing in and around the tactical operations center. He bled heavily, since he could not effectively treat the wound because of the gas mask he was forced to wear. He recognized the dire straits that communications were in, but was momentarily powerless to get a radio back up on the net. An enemy commando team had penetrated down the ridge line from the north and was putting the TOC area under direct small arms fire. With the casualties, smoke, chemicals, and artillery fire, the TOC could not get itself back into operation.
By this time Always recognized that he was getting no assistance in bringing commanders up on the net, and he set about establishing communications himself. Unfortunately this distracted his attention from directing his driver through the smoke. Before they knew it they crashed into an unseen wadi that dropped five feet from the desert floor, leaving the rear of the Bradley hanging up a sheer wall, devoid of any traction and unable to extricate itself. Always jumped from the vehicle and began to move to his artillery officer’s personnel carrier, only to see it get hit by an incoming artillery round, blowing its track off the rollers. At this point the battalion commander and his runner, the fire support officer, and the air force liaison officer began a cross-country dash to Charlie Company, hoping to find a vehicle from which they could command the battalion and coordinate their fires.
Captain Carter, by now up on the alternate net, had noted the lack of direction from above, and after attempting to raise the commander, executive officer, and S-3, concluded that command had devolved to him. At the same moment his 1st Platoon leader gave a call that an enemy battalion was crashing in on his position.
“All stations this net. All stations this net. This is Mike 36. I have assumed Bravo 36’s duties. The enemy is attacking in the south. I say again, the enemy is attacking in the south. Acknowledge.” Carter gave the call, the right one to make at this time, and received acknowledgments from Coving and Evans. Baker was too busy with his own fight, and Dilger had not yet reestablished communications. Archer was off the radio, supervising the action on the ground.
While Always and his small party made their way south, packing a PRC 77 radio that operated only in the clear, the defensive artillery battle was in the hands of the forward artillery officers. They were handicapped by the smoke and haze, but were able to call in the fire by occasional sightings and the roar of the enemy engines. Unfortunately, their timing was off. By the time they called for the preregistered fires, the enemy columns had bypassed the target areas being called in. The fire support was just missing, sparing the enemy a dozen or so vehicles he would have otherwise lost. As a result, the second enemy battalion crashed into Carter’s 1st Platoon with full force. The fight was intense, and for a moment Lieutenant White, who had joined the battalion on the eve of its deployment, was able to stop the enemy with a wall of direct fire augmented by the mortar platoon directly supporting his company. But massed enemy forces eventually took out White’s four vehicles, wounded him, and drove on to the west.
Now the third battalion of the enemy regiment was following close on the heels of the leading battalion in the south. It was into this battalion that Carter, leading his remaining two platoons, smashed in front of BP 3. For a second it seemed that the enemy would be stopped, but just at that moment air forces came in out of the sun and drove Carter to cover. Charlie Company’s Stingers went into action and put down one of the jets, but more came on to keep Carter pinned down while the enemy drove on.
Captain Coving in the north was torn between Carter’s call that the attack was coming in the south and Always’ last report that the main attack was coming in the north. If he moved out of position, the enemy would have a free run across PL STOP. If he stayed put, Captain Dilger would have to make a stand by himself. He weighed the consequences, decided it was best not to leave his position uncovered, and prepared to defend where he was.
The battle had become sheer confusion for attacker and defender alike. Always had made it to Charlie Company’s position by foot, only to discover that it had moved on. He pressed on to the sound of the fight. The enemy regimental commander had himself been put out of action, taking a direct hit from Lieutenant Wise just before Wise went down. The enemy’s first battalion was still jammed up around Bravo Company, which by this time was seriously attrited. Smoke and gas hung over the battlefield. Soldiers fought by sheer instinct, feeling their way in the confusion, trying to kill the enemy while keeping from being killed. Time ticked by amazingly fast.
At 0620 Always made it to a disabled tank belonging to Charlie Company. After a quick exchange with the tank commander, the battalion commander took over the vehicle, which although affording him no mobility allowed him to talk on a secure radio. Just as he was getting updated by Captain Carter, elements of two battalions crashed into Captain Dilger at Battle Position 12.
Dilger had received last priority on the preparation of his defenses. The bet was that the main attack would go north against Coving, and the emphasis had been put on stopping the enemy forward, or at least depleting his forces in the early fight. As a result, Delta’s obstacles were not as formidable as they might have been. Dilger had a three-platoon force (one Bradley and two tank platoons—given his maintenance status, a total of ten vehicles). Forty-three BMPs and T-72s threw themselves at the right-handmost platoon, consisting of three Bradley vehicles and fourteen dismounted infantrymen.
Always had a rough idea of what was happening from his tank up by Battle Position 3. It was do or die now, and he scrambled to call his helicopter support, which had been grounded until now by high winds, and to bring some air force into play. The latter had been hesitant to commit without any contact with the ground liaison officer. He also ordered Captain Coving to move his two-platoon force down to help Dilger. Coving tried to pick his way through the mine fields and obstacles to his south, but was handicapped by his lack of a rehearsal. Again the enemy jammed the battalion net off the air, and again the task force reestablished communications on an alternate net. By this time the battalion had been in gas masks for almost two hours.
For fifteen minutes the battle raged to the south of BP 12. Friendly air force arrived but was unable to pick up the enemy in the smoke, dust, and haze below, although it did manage to momentarily deter the enemy assault. Winds forced the helicopters back, but not before they picked off two BMPs, losing one chopper in the exchange. Finally, at 0703, elements of two enemy battalions, approximately thirty armored vehicles, crossed STOP. Always had once again failed in his mission.
Across the battlefield a bitter taste entered the mouths of everyone in the defeated battalion. Captain Baker felt no satisfaction with the two dozen enemy vehicles destroyed to his front. Lieutenant White suffered more from the knowledge that two battalions had run over him than from his wounds. Major Rogers’ head was splitting from the pain of a concussion, but the ache in his heart was greater. Private First Class Davis, who had run three miles that morning with the command party, was close to tears at the news of PL STOP being crossed. From top to bottom, the ranks of the task force did not like, could not stand, defeat.
But in the seeds of the disappointment was the recognition that it had been a close run, that with just a little more luck, with a little more coordination, perhaps with a little more leadershi
p, the enemy might have been stopped. The survivors sensed how close it had been, and being good soldiers in a good unit, resolved to rededicate their energies to the “next time,” to learn from their mistakes and observations, and to wrench from defeat the fruits of victory.
Lieutenant Colonel Always recognized all of this and sensed that herein lay the key to solidifying his unit. A fever began to bum in him, a fever born in part of fatigue and frustration but born more of a zeal to win. The recriminations were over for Always. He had reached that stage where he was no longer the detached and aloof commander developing his command. The command and he had blended into one. The battalion was an extension of his will. As he willed himself to redouble his efforts, so too he willed the battalion. It would become an unstoppable force; as long as the fire burned in Always, it would burn in every one of his soldiers, a single force driving to the relentless objective of victory.
Lieutenant Colonel Drivon was merciless in the after-action review that took place at 1100. Always did not care. He was indifferent to the jibes, unbothered by the cataloging of his failures. His ego had been bruised beyond the point of feeling. But he did seize upon the kernels of truth, recognized what could have been done better, and branded the lessons learned into his own brain:
Defense is tough; not a minute can be wasted in the preparation. Make the plan early and get forces in motion. Revise the plan as a greater appreciation of the terrain and enemy intentions is achieved. Coordination is critical—engineers, artillery, air force, air defense, and maneuver forces must have the exact same plan in mind, on the exact same piece of ground.
Defense of Hill 781 Page 11
