by Harold Coyle
"Colonel Dixon, the corps G-3 is on the line for you."
Dixon, seated in front of the operations and intel maps between Cerro and his intelligence officer, leaned way back in the folding chair he was seated in until the front legs of the chair left the ground and his back began to arch forward. Reaching behind him blindly with his right hand, he opened it and waited for the phone. Behind him, the operations duty officer got up, leaned over the table he was at, and placed the phone receiver in Dixon's outstretched hand. As soon as Dixon had a firm grasp on it, the duty officer grabbed the phone line and began to feed more toward Dixon in anticipation of Dixon's returning back forward. Even this effort, however, did not help as Dixon, already talking on the phone, dragged the receiver across the duty officer's table, creating an avalanche of pens, pencils, notebooks, clipboards, coffee cups, and scraps of paper onto the ground. While Dixon was oblivious to this, Cerro shot the duty officer a dirty look while Command Sergeant Major Duncan grabbed the operations sergeant by the arm and quietly reprimanded him for failing to keep the duty desk neat and clear of unnecessary trash and clutter.
"Dixon."
The corps G-3's voice betrayed how tired and harried he was. "Scott, we have to pull the Apaches from you. Things aren't going well for the rangers, and they may need the attack helicopter support."
Dixon grunted. "Yes, sir. I understand that, sir. But that, sir, puts my flank guards in a tight spot. I expect that reserve brigade from Uzlovaya to plow into our southern flank any minute. I've only got one company down there. Taking away the Apaches leaves me little choice but to pull more forces from the drive on Mukacevo to cover my flanks."
The corps G-3 wasn't moved by Dixon's argument. Not that Dixon expected him to be. "I know, but you need to remember, you're only a supporting attack. The corps commander never expected you to make it to Mukacevo."
"Yeah, I know. We're the red cape and it's our job to keep the bull busy while the rangers cut off his nuts. Well, tell Big Al that he had better hurry before we lose ours."
The corps G-3 laughed. "You know what Big Al will say to that."
Dixon laughed too. "Yeah, I know. He'll look at you and say, 'What's Dixon worried about? He doesn't know what to do with 'em anyway.' "
Turning serious, the G-3 asked Dixon how his brigade was doing. "We're in good shape. No surprises, no problems yet that we didn't anticipate. Other than the fact that the Youkes are reacting faster than we had thought they would and my battalion commanders are moving into the Ukraine with everything that their units own plus, we're doing quite well. Loss of the Apaches may slow us down later, but for now, no problems."
The corps G-3, satisfied with Dixon's assessment, promised him that he would return control of the Apaches as soon as they were finished supporting the extraction of the ranger company. Failing that, the G-3 promised Dixon that the Air Force would have some A- 10s on station at dawn to sweep the road and high ground ahead of his brigade.
Finished, Dixon held the phone over his head, waiting for the operations duty officer to take it, while he turned to Cerro. "Well, you heard?"
Cerro nodded. "We lose the Apaches. Okay, no problem. Do we shift another company down to the Latorica?"
Dixon, relieved of the phone, folded his arms and looked at the map for a moment as he thought. "No, not yet. Hal, contact the 2nd of the 35th Armor. Tell them I want a string on one of their companies, tank heavy. Their mission, if I need it, will be to move south to reinforce or relieve Kozak at the Latorica."
"Do we want to shift priority of fires to Kozak's company?"
Dixon thought about that, then shook his head. "No, not yet. But I do want you to have one of the OH-58 Delta scouts move south and keep an eye on things down there." Dixon turned to Cerro and pointed his finger at him. "Be prepared to shift priority of fires if things get really tight down there, but don't do so without my permission. With the Apaches gone and the A-10s unavailable until dawn, we may need the artillery to blow through any roadblocks further down the line. Our main effort still remains keeping the pressure up on Mukacevo and drawing the Ukrainians' heavy forces away from the rangers. The best way we can do that is to keep moving. Kozak will have to do the best she can with what she has."
Turning toward the map, Cerro looked at the blue map symbol that represented Kozak's company. Sitting at a point just north of the Latorica River, where the road to Chop crossed it, the small blue company marker was threatened by an ominously large red marker that represented a Ukrainian tank brigade. The intelligence duty officer, having posted the Ukrainian brigade symbol, had drawn a large red arrow pointing from it right at the center of the symbol that represented Kozak's company. Cerro mused as he continued to look at the map, "Well, young Captain Kozak has her work cut out for her."
Dixon said nothing at first. Instead he stood up and stretched, his hands reaching the canvas roof of the forward command post's tent extension. "Hal, I got the feeling that before this thing is over, we'll all have our hands full." Dropping his arms, he put his hands on his hips and looked about his command post, then back to Cerro. "Get on the horn and let 3rd of the 3rd Infantry know the Apaches are going away."
Turning to Command Sergeant Major Duncan, Dixon informed him that he and Colonel Vorishnov were going forward in his tank.
Without another word, he walked out and let his staff go about issuing the orders and instructions necessary to deal with the brigade's new situation.
CHAPTER 4
7 JANUARY
The attack on Kozak's position north of the Latorica River was slow to develop, reflecting the Ukrainian brigade commander's surprise that American forces were already deployed so close to Chop, his uncertainty of the precise location and composition of those forces, and his standing orders. While the loss of his entire advanced guard detachment of three tanks before they could provide him with any detailed information was regrettable, at least the initial garbled report of their platoon leader gave him something to work with. The report that they were being hit by long-range tank fire, and subsequent reports from a recon unit that arrived moments later, confirmed that the engagement had taken place two thousand meters south of the bridge. Based on the information he had at hand, he assumed he was facing a flank screen by an armored cavalry unit. That would account for the speed with which the Americans had arrived at their positions and the presence of tanks. A deliberate attack, he decided, rather than a hasty one, would therefore be more effective, since a series of progressively larger hasty attacks would only allow the Americans to grind up his combat power a little at a time. One full-blooded and coordinated attack, with all the combat power he could bring to bear, would not only scatter the screening force, it would leave his forces in the proper formations for further attacks north toward Uzhgorod.
There was, of course, the problem of crossing the river. Destruction of the highway bridges complicated his mission. As the Ukrainian brigade assembled west of Chop, its commander and his staff pondered their options at the junction where Highway 17 turned north toward the Latorica. As throngs of frightened refugees struggled to get around, past, or through the tanks and personnel carriers of the brigade, the brigade commander realized that only two real choices existed. He could either move his forces to the east and cross at another site or conduct an assault crossing north of Chop.
His choice of options, however, was limited due to his literal translation of his standing orders. If, those orders stated, an attack originated from Slovakia, he was to deploy his brigade from their garrison at Uzlovaya to Chop. From there, he was to cross the Latorica via the highway and railroad bridge, which the orders assumed would be intact. Once assembled on the north side of the Latorica, the Ukrainian brigade was to attack north along Highway 17, into the flank of the invading force, using Uzhgorod as their objective. Unable to contact the commander of the Ruthenia Military District, the Ukrainian brigade commander felt he had little choice but to carry out his standing orders to the letter. Other units throughout Rutheni
a depended upon the success of his operations. Besides, as one of his staff officers commented during their discussions, the number of refugees was multiplying by the hour. Using vehicles of every description, they were clogging the roads throughout the area, as well as the streets of Chop. It was, the staff officer pointed out, at best questionable if they could turn the brigade around and countermarch it back through Chop to a crossing site east. Seeing that his brigade was already 70 percent assembled south of the Latorica and ready to strike north, the brigade commander decided to follow through, trusting his luck and the skill of his soldiers.
* * *
Although Kozak had lost the support of the Apache attack helicopters, that did not mean she and her company had been abandoned to their fate. Instead, Hal Cerro began to concentrate those assets available to the brigade that were not directly involved with the operations at the nuclear weapons storage sites. The first asset turned south in support of Kozak's unit was an EH-60A Quickfix, a tactical communications intercept, direction-finding, and jamming system mounted in a modified UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter with the Quickfix. It was used to search for and locate signals from tactical radios, and Cerro, working through the brigade's intelligence officer, prioritized the tasks of the Quickfix to finding and locating the command element of the Ukrainian brigade moving from Uzlovaya and then the fire direction center of its supporting artillery battalion. Since the Ukrainian brigade was on the move and would have to use the radio to coordinate its subordinate units, Major Lea Thompson, the brigade S-2 that Dixon had nicknamed Princess Lea, felt that they would have no problem locating either of their designated targets once contact was made with Kozak's unit.
In addition to the Quickfix, Cerro checked with the brigade's fire support coordination officer, or FSCO, to ensure that they were ready to provide counterbattery fires as well as defensive fires. An artilleryman, Major Salvador Salatinni, known as Big S, never missed an opportunity to promote his fellow red legs. Taking Cerro over to his map board in the brigade forward CP, Salatinni briefed him on the deployment and preparations of the two artillery battalions supporting the 1st Brigade. One battalion, he pointed out, which was deployed south of Uzhgorod, was in place and prepared to fire in support of Kozak. To counter enemy artillery, AN/TPQ-36 and AN/TPQ-37 Firefinder radars were deployed and oriented to the south.
Although Cerro understood the mission and capabilities of the Firefinder radars, Salatinni explained again, as he often did, that as soon as a single enemy artillery round was fired, the Firefinders would be able to detect the incoming enemy projectile and then, assisted by computers, determine the location of the gun firing that projectile before the projectile impacted. Cerro, seeing Salatinni caught up in his own briefing, let him continue as he explained that the information from the Firefinder radars would be fed directly into their artillery battalion's TACFIRE fire control computer system. The TACFIRE computer would then, according to the way division artillery had it programmed for this operation, automatically pass the information concerning the enemy artillery locations to a platoon of multiple launch rocket systems, or MLRSs, that were supporting the brigade. The MLRS platoon, with three launchers, would dump one pod's worth of rockets on each enemy artillery battery located. This, Salatinni emphasized, meant that a six-gun Ukrainian artillery battery would be attacked by twelve rockets. Since each rocket contained 644 submunitions, or bomblets, every enemy artillery battery would be attacked by 7,728 submunitions. Or, Salatinni said with a broad smile and dancing eyes, put another way, each enemy gun would be attacked by 1,288 submunitions.
Cerro, his mind dulled by lack of sleep and dealing with the usual unending parade of problems and concerns that operations officers deal with, merely nodded or grunted as Salatinni bombarded him with facts, figures, and explanations. It was amazing, Cerro thought as he listened, how artillerymen not only got so caught up in memorizing all those numbers and technical details, but took it upon themselves to educate those unable to repeat that data. When Salatinni was finally finished, Cerro looked Salatinni in the eye. "S, I appreciate the briefing. I would like to clarify one point, however."
A smile lit across Salatinni's face. "Sure, Hal. What is it?"
"Is the artillery ready?"
The efforts of Cerro and the 1st Brigade staff were, at that moment, completely unknown to Captain Nancy Kozak and Company C, 3rd of the 3rd Infantry. After having parked their Bradley in the lee of a stone barn, the crew of C60 settled in to watch and wait. Perched high in the open hatch of C60, her M-2 Bradley, there was little for Kozak to do but to watch and wait. Across the river she could see very little. The cold, pale moon, hanging low in the sky behind their positions, was reflected off the white snow, turning everything gray and creating deep, dark shadows. She could hear, however, what she couldn't see. From deep in those shadows, the sounds of tracked vehicles winding their way slowly and laboriously along forest trails drifted across the river. The crisp, cold night air seemed to magnify those sounds, making it difficult to accurately judge the precise location or size of the approaching enemy. With nothing to do but wait for the Ukrainians to show themselves, Kozak waited and watched. At that moment, she had the feeling that her company had been deployed on its own to defend the far side of the moon.
The rest of her crew shared her foreboding. After a night of furious activity and no sleep the lull and silence left each member of the crew to deal with his or her own fears, apprehensions, and natural desires to drift off to sleep as best they could. Wolf, peering through his thermal sight, slowly traversed the turret as he searched the tree lines across the river for the enemy. Here and there he could see indications of vehicle concentrations as the exhaust from those vehicles heated the trees they sat next to. The sap in those trees, heated by the vehicles' exhaust, spread that heat throughout the tree. As a result, some trees were warmer than those trees which were not near any vehicles. Wolf's thermal sight picked up this temperature difference and provided him with a good idea of where the enemy were. With a map in his lap, he kept himself occupied by trying to correlate his sightings through the thermal sight with their location on the map. Every few minutes, when he had some substantial change, he would pull on Kozak's pant leg. After Kozak bent down, Wolf would show her what he had. Making a mental note, Kozak would acknowledge his efforts, then return to her position in the open hatch from which she would study the areas Wolf had pointed out.
Both Tish, the driver, and Paden, the radioman, were less vigilant. Not that there was much for them to do. Though Kozak should have had one of them out on the ground to provide security, she didn't want to scatter her crew or expose them to the artillery barrage she expected to precede the Ukrainian attack. When it came, Kozak wanted to be able to move and move fast. People wandering about in the dark in the middle of an artillery barrage would handicap her just when she would need them the most. Besides, Kozak reasoned, she was in the middle of the tank platoon. Ellerbee's security measures, which weren't the best, at least provided her Bradley with some degree of local security. So Tish and Paden stayed put in their assigned positions, drifting in and out of fitful periods of sleep.
Thirty meters away, Second Lieutenant Ellerbee had no trouble staying awake. There was, of course, the incident earlier that morning that had given him the scare of his life. Every time he thought about it, he felt anger and embarrassment over the fact that he had not only been asleep during his first fight, he had fumbled the most basic of all leadership requirements, timely and accurate reporting. The consequences of that incident were immediate and embarrassing. The visit by the mech infantry company commander, during which he received a not so subtle lecture on what a platoon leader was expected to do in combat, was bad enough. That Ellerbee had expected. Even the relocating of the company commander's Bradley over to his position was not totally unexpected. Though it showed that she lacked confidence in his abilities to report to her in a timely and accurate manner, Ellerbee could have dealt with that slight too.
What re
ally bothered Ellerbee, though, was the fact that he had failed in front of a woman. As a professional officer, such thoughts weren't supposed to even enter into the equation. He was, after all, an American soldier, an officer at that, serving in an organization that had been totally integrated for years, in which individuals were to be judged, as he had been taught, on their abilities, not their sex, color, or background.
That, Ellerbee had found, was far easier to discuss than it was to practice. He was, he knew, not a sexist. His mother and father had both provided him and his brother with what was considered to be the politically correct role models for an upper-middle-class American family. He enjoyed the company of women and had during his high school and college years never lacked for a date. Ellerbee was even able to accept the presence of females in his college ROTC detachment, although he, like the other members of that unit, found it hard to keep from snickering when new female cadets were learning to issue orders during drill and ceremony practices. The usual retort by the cadet detachment commander at such times, for the unfortunate female cadet to "bang 'em together like you had a pair," was always greeted with hoots and catcalls from the male cadets in the ranks.
It wasn't until Ellerbee arrived at his first assignment that he found himself confronted by what many old-timers simply referred to as "The Issue." Five years after the first females entered combat arms, there was still an unofficial debate raging over the issue, a debate Ellerbee found himself in the middle of. Quite by accident, he was assigned to what his platoon sergeant, Sergeant First Class Rourk, called a pure platoon, meaning that there were no females assigned to it. When Ellerbee asked how that could be, especially since 10 percent of the company was female, Rourk smiled and winked. "Well, sir," he said, "the first sergeant and I have an understanding. When replacements come in, I get first dibs on them." Even Ellerbee understood what that meant. Though he knew that such a practice was not in the spirit of the Army's policy concerning integration, he said nothing. Dealing with replacements, after all, was sergeants' business. So Ellerbee allowed Rourk to continue to manipulate the system.
