Defense of Hill 781 (17 page)

It was a bleak picture, but at least it was a picture. As bad as it was, for the first time the task force knew what it was up against. The planners solidified their views, Always approved the plan, and the TOC produced the overlays that would be discussed and passed out at the orders briefing.

The plan was elegant in its simplicity, electric in its violence. The overwhelming mass of the task force would strike in the northernmost edge of the zone of attack, set up by a small deception in the south, and assisted by a preparatory dismounted attack. The commanders’ eyes brightened as they leaned forward in the eerie light of the TOC to be sure they understood what was expected of them.

Echo Company would move to Checkpoint 8 after midnight, run its vehicles’ engines, keep some movement going throughout the early morning hours, and then make a false start forward at 0355, going no farther than the north-south road to its front. It would be feinting at Hidden Valley, hopefully fixing the enemy there while the extreme violence was done in the north.

Bravo Company’s infantrymen would start out at 0130 to push at the northern slope of Hill 955, specifically aiming toward CP 4. It was to move by stealth, breaking into a direct attack at 0400. It would reinforce Echo’s deception, further confusing and fixing the enemy.

Alpha Company’s infantrymen would start out at 0100 from the vicinity of CP 5 and move by stealth just short of Objective OWL. Under cover of an artillery preparation that would start at 0330, they were to open a breach in the wire and mines in the extreme north of the zone of attack, just to the northeast of OWL.

Through this breach would come the rest of the task force. Alpha Company would drive in on OWL’s north face, gathering in its infantrymen and reducing the defenses there, fighting position by fighting position. Seconds behind Alpha would come Bravo, minus its dismounted infantrymen, hooking behind OWL and cutting sharply south into Objective FALCON. Its mission was to engage directly the defenses of FALCON, thereby protecting Charlie’s tanks as they followed right behind, hooking in from the north around OWL, past FALCON, and straight at
HAWK. It was to grab a toehold on the north side of 876, covering any enemy movement that might interfere with Delta Company’s thrust on Objective EAGLE. The idea was to get deep quickly with a tank company on EAGLE, blocking any counterattack attempts from Hidden Valley or from the east. The forces on OWL, FALCON, and HAWK would take their time to work the enemy out of their holes, the lion’s share of this work to be done by the dismounts of Alpha coming down from OWL, and from Bravo, working up from the south.

The main attack would break at 0400, led by two armored personnel carriers with smoke generators on board. Visibility would be virtually nil for the attacking column, but with the task force covered all the way in by the poor light and spewing smoke, the few seconds needed to get by OWL might be bought by the confusion. Not that Always did not anticipate that his
own people would be disoriented in the melee. That was to be expected. But with boldness and determination they could make it into position before the enemy could react, and then hunker down to fight a deliberate attack from positions less vulnerable than coming across the desert floor. Artillery-delivered mines would be dropped on CP 4 at the critical moment, bottling up whatever forces were in Hidden Valley, now estimated to be approximately ten tanks and a platoon of BMPs.

The bad news was that no air support would be available for the attack. It was needed elsewhere. Nor would there be any helicopters available. The rigors of the previous day’s efforts in the high winds had caused several maintenance problems, and those aircraft that were available were committed further to the north. This would be strictly a ground attack, supported by artillery and mortars. The latter would go in mounted behind Alpha, supporting the infantry efforts in the north.

It had taken only a short while to describe the relatively simple plan. But its implementation involved a myriad of details, particularly for the night movements that would have to be made to get everyone in attack position. To the greatest extent possible, all movement would be done with radio silence. Deception was key. If the enemy realized the size of the punch coming in the north, he could reposition himself in time to meet it and throw it back. The scouts had been alerted to report any large night movements in and around OWL, FALCON, and HAWK. A scout team was pushed deeper onto EAGLE to make sure that no surprises awaited Delta when it got there.

The commanders were eager. This seemed like a workable plan, one based on good knowledge of the enemy positions. Come what may, it was certain to be exciting. The heart of the battle would be fought in the first ten minutes. After that it would take yeoman’s work to uproot the enemy, but the clash of armor at 0400 would be a scene to remember.

At 2100 the meeting broke up. Always shared a few words
with Major Walters, whose neck wound was now bandaged, and headed for his Bradley. Shortly after midnight he would start his move toward CP 5, but for now he was going to get some rest.

As Always slept, the work of the battalion went on. Orders were developed and passed down the chain. Maintenance crews worked feverishly to complete repairs and get equipment back into the fight. Rations were distributed, water was brought up, ammunition was stored, fuel was replenished, mines and obstacles were recovered and stowed for future use. Here and there men snatched short naps. The leaders and the led had become one, caught up in the furor of continuous battle, straining to keep their gear in order, their bodies conditioned for the next fray regardless of the wear and tear they had already been through. One thousand wills bent to the tasks at hand, bone tiredness compensated for by the hard-won experience that comes with the tests of fire and steel that they had been through. Fear was subordinated to mission, exhaustion to commitment. The battalion had passed from being in the field to being part of the field. The comforts of civilization had passed from recent memory. Their bodies had hardened with their wills, and they could not be broken, come what may. They were now a machine that could fight indefinitely.

At thirty minutes after midnight Always had positioned himself astride the route into the attack position in the vicinity of CP 5. Straining his eyes to look into the darkness, he could pick out the units slowly making their way in. Alpha came first, silently disgorging its face-blackened infantrymen under the leadership of the three platoon leaders—two lieutenants and a sergeant first class. They quickly hoisted their packs and moved out, squad leaders counting their men by feel, checking for any equipment oversights as they did so.

Bravo followed, minus their infantrymen already in position down at Checkpoint 8. Lieutenant Franklin had brought up the
Bradleys, Captain Baker making the decision to go with the dismounts. Always caught himself second-guessing the call. Certainly Baker was weighing the difficulty of the two missions—dismounted and mounted. The infantrymen had the longer haul to make, the more enemy to work their way through. It was certain to be a difficult chore, requiring strong leadership. But the Bradleys of Bravo were key to the protection of the tanks. Moreover, Franklin had not been forward with the commanders when they initially looked at the zone into which they would be attacking. Nor had he been present in the TOC when the order had been briefed. Of the two missions, the one more important to the battalion was the attack on FALCON by the infantry vehicles. For a moment Always was torn between the urge to dictate that the commander must go with the main attack and the desire to let his subordinates make key decisions affecting their own commands. Then he realized the issue was moot. Franklin was here and Baker had already committed himself to the night movement. Franklin would have to take in the Bradleys.

Always wished he knew the lieutenant a little better. He looked tough enough; a short, muscular man, he had been an outstanding college wrestler. The colonel decided to put himself behind Bravo in the attack.

Over the next hour and a half the remainder of the battalion closed, vehicles moving slowly to muffle the noises of their huge engines. One by one Always saw them come in and disperse. Despite the losses from the defense in sector the previous day, he had enough to mount the attack. Twenty Bradleys and nineteen Abrams tanks would be going in at dawn. It was a minor miracle pulled off by his executive officer and the maintenance crews. More than ten percent of the task force was committed to that effort, more than a hundred men. No group worked harder.

The smoke platoon leader was excited. He had never taken his generators into an attack of this nature before. The prospect of leading a heavy task force into an objective both thrilled
and frightened him. Lieutenant Rizzo was a good officer, an ROTC graduate who had chosen the Chemical Corps based on his college studies as a chemist. He always wondered if he had made the right choice, somewhat envious of his combat arms friends. This morning he was sure he had.

The lieutenant and the colonel were staring off to the east, trying to pick out the shadow of Hill 876 against the sky. “Set your azimuth relative to that peak when you start,” Always was telling him, “and stick to it. Every time you can get a view of it, reset the azimuth. Your compass will be going crazy with the jolting and the pull of the metal on the vehicle, but it’s better than nothing. Go as fast as you can, and once you get to the wire, let these guys come by you. I’ll have infantrymen on the ground guiding them through with flares and green smoke. Keep that smoke coming—it’s not only your best protection, it’s the only cover I’ll have as we go in.”

“Yes, sir!” The butterflies were flapping in Rizzo’s stomach. Always looked at him and knew he would do the job. A thought crossed his mind. We raise a boy to manhood, give him an education that leads to a degree in chemistry, and then send him into the face of hell as a smoke screen. What a business.

He patted Rizzo on the shoulder. “Keep up your speed. We’ll be following the thickest part of the smoke, each vehicle racing after the one to its front, but we’ll keep up. If you get disoriented, keep driving on until you can pick up your direction again. Whatever you do, don’t back up or thirty-nine vehicles will run you over.”

“Don’t worry, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know. That’s why I picked you. Good luck, Tony.” Always made one of his rare uses of a first name. It seemed appropriate at the time.

The artillery belched, shattering the early morning tranquility. It was 0330. The TOC, having shifted position since midnight, ran through the radio net, quickly checking to see if all elements
were in contact. That done, the radio frequency was shifted by prearranged signal, and a radio was left operating on the old net, chattering with a dummy station in the south.

Evans had been making noise over by CP 8 for more than two hours now. He drew some artillery for his trouble, but no casualties. He didn’t like missing the fight, but knew that he had to play his role well. He was a professional. At the appointed time he started his platoons on their move to the east. The enemy saw him coming and passed the word over the radio net.