Sword Point (53 page)

“This is Tango Three-two. Six tanks moving south correction make that nine tanks moving south vicinity five two zero, seven seven five. They look like

T-80s, but we cannot confirm. Continuing to observe. Over.”

Lewis thought about that for a moment. Who else could they be? The thermal sights of the Bradley, great for seeing in the dark, did not always provide a good clear image. Vehicle recognition was, at times, difficult.

The battalion commander called Lewis. “Mike Sixeight, this is Mike One-six.

Get with higher and find out if we have any friendlies stumblin’ about in the dark to our front. Over.”

Lewis acknowledged and picked up the hand mike for the brigade radio net.

He was about to make the call when the scout-platoon leader came back with another report:

“Mike Four-four, this is Tango Three-two. Update on that last spot report.

Eighteen T-80 tanks-I say again, T-80 tanks-moving south. Lead element now at five two zero, seven seven zero. We are assuming hasty defense vicinity checkpoint zero eight and preparing to engage. Request artillery and permission to engage. Over.”

All eyes in the
TOC
were on Smithson as he moved the plastic symbol that represented the battalion’s scout platoon and placed it on the map where checkpoint 08 was located. The in tell sergeant took a red plastic armor-unit symbol imprinted with the number 18 and placed it where. the scout-platoon leader had reported the enemy formation. The fire-support officer, hearing the request for fire, was already on his radio, talking to the artillery unit supporting the battalion.

After a moment, the S-3 called back to the scout platoon leader,

“Tango

Three-two. This is Mike Fourfour. Are you sure they’re T-80s?”

The scout-platoon leader, without hesitation, replied, “Affirmative. If we wait another minute I can give you the bumper numbers of all twenty-five

T-80 tanks.”

Slightly disturbed by the wisecrack about the bumper numbers, the S-3

replied sharply, “Permission to engage. Break.” Then, to Smithson,

“Mike

Nine-one, this is Mike Four-four. Get the red legs on that target.

Report to higher we are deploying to engage an enemy tank battalion attacking south.

I will keep you advised. Over.”

The waiting was over. The tension and stress of waiting was replaced by a flurry of frantic activity in the
TOC
. Calls went out to the brigade S-2 over the in tell net, to the brigade S-3 over the brigade-command net and to artillery units. The S-3 began to issue orders to the company commanders over the battalion-command net, telling them where to deploy and how to orient their units. Lewis watched and listened to all that was happening.

He made sure that all people who needed to be notified were and that the orders that were being put over the battalion command net by the S-3 were written down and accurately posted on the situation map in the
TOC
. There was much activity but no confusion. They had done this before. The procedures the staff were now going through were no different from those they had used when conducting command-post exercises back in Tennessee. The difference this time, however, was that there were now real people out there. Real bullets were going to be fired, and real people were going to die. It was Lewis’ job to see that everything was done to ensure that it would be the Soviets who did most of the dying.

Through the darkness the 3rd Battalion rolled. Vorishnov was concerned about their lack of coordination and of intelligence about what was to their front. Reports of enemy activity had been received on and off for the last hour at the regiment from its own recon elements operating somewhere to the 3rd Battalion’s front. Vorishnov had hoped to go forward during the day and coordinate with the commander of the recon unit they were supposed to follow. He had wanted to get a feel for the terrain the battalion would cross as well as some information on enemy unit locations and mine fields.

For security, however, additional recon had not been permitted. The division did not want to risk revealing when and where the tank regiments were going to be committed.

The failure in coordination now began to manifest itself. When the tank regiment reached the point where it was to link up with the recon battalion of the motorized rifle division, no one was there. Continued efforts to contact someone and effect a link-up failed. Falling behind schedule, the tank regiment was ordered forward without an escort.

Ignorant of exact locations of both friendly and enemy forces, the 3rd Battalion, 68th Tank

Regiment, plunged into the night and hoped for the best.

The sudden flashes on the battalion’s flank therefore came as a surprise.

In the darkness, they at first appeared to be artillery impacting at a distance. It took a moment for the tank commanders to grasp the true situation as flame from the rocket motors of antitank guided missiles closed on the battalion’s tanks. The lead-company commander reported the missile attack while his tanks traversed their turrets in the direction of the oncoming missiles.

The impact of the missiles, the detonation of the reactive armor and, in two cases, secondary explosions lit up the night. Three more flashes from the opposite flank pulled everyone’s attention in that direction. The battalion was in an ambush of some type. Instead of being greeted by the recon battalion of the forward motorized rifle division, it had run into the

Americans. At least, Vorishnov hoped it was the Americans and not the recon battalion firing. How terrible, he thought, to have come all this way and be killed by our own people.

While the battalion commander issued orders to deploy into battle formation, Vorishnov reported the attack to Regiment. The regiment, tracking the battalion’s progress, had concerns similar to Vorishnov’s.

Regiment wanted confirmation that it was the Americans doing the firing.

Vorishnov replied that there was no time for that. Regardless of who they were, the battalion was attacking. The battle drill that it executed put into action the contact drill practiced many times by the battalion. The lead company deployed and turned to attack. The next company followed, ready to deploy and support the attack or bypass the lead company if it became too heavily involved. The third company also followed, ready to swing around and hit the enemy in the flank or the rear once the flanks were found. The battalion was committed.

Reports of the scout platoon’s initial success were welcomed by all at the

TOC
. There had been a great deal of concern over the effectiveness of the

Bradley’s
TOW
missile against the T-80. Although not every hit was a kill, at least some Russians were dying. The scouts had the task of developing the situation as well as screening and buying time for the deployment of the remainder of the battalion. Lewis followed the orders being issued by the S-3 to the companies and watched as Smithson plotted the progress of the battalion. In another five minutes all the units would be in their assigned positions. The S-2 plotted the advance of the Soviets. The fire-support officer called out that artillery-fire missions were on the way.

Two of the battalion’s own companies, reinforced with improved
TOW

vehicles, called ITVs, deployed on either side of the line of march they expected the Soviets to take. They formed a funnel that led into a tank company, a Kentucky National Guard unit, attached to the battalion. That company took up positions in the center, blocking the path of the onrushing Soviets. The fourth company of the battalion, held in the back of the center, stood ready to swing to either the left or the right, depending on how the Soviets reacted.

With nothing more to do for the moment, Lewis listened to the reports and watched Smithson and the S-2 plot the progress of the battle. The scouts continued to engage, drawing back slowly. Somehow the first report of a loss in the scout platoon passed unnoticed, until the number six listed as the number of operational Bradleys for the scouts was changed to a five.

It’s begun, Lewis thought, the dying has begun. That the same thought had not occurred to him when the destruction of Soviet tanks had been reported was not unusual. After all, the scouts were killing tanks; the crews of the

T-80 tanks had no faces, no names. The men in the scout Bradleys, however, were very real to Lewis. They were people who lived in Memphis with him.

They were the people he worked with, had gone to annual training with, dealt with on a daily basis. Sam Cane, a young teacher who taught Ed’s youngest son, commanded one of the Bradleys in the scout platoon. Was Sam dead? Or was it Tim Wheaton, owner of the gas station just off the interstate exit, now a scout-squad leader? Was it his track that had been hit? The black grease-pencil figures on the chart next to the situation map translated into very real people. Real people whom Lewis knew.

Slowly the Soviets drew near. The scouts ceased fire and pulled away.

Now the companies, in their hasty defensive positions, began to report sighting the Soviets and their readiness to engage. The tension began to build again. Everyone waited, the silence broken only by the traffic over the artillery-fire-control net as artillery lieutenants with the companies requested fires and submitted corrections after observing the impact of adjustment rounds. All waited for the battle to be joined in earnest.

There was no doubt that the regiment had run into an American force of some size. The increasing tempo of artillery, and its accuracy, betrayed the fact that someone was watching and directing it upon the 3rd Battalion. Vorishnov, his head raised slightly out of the turret, saw no sign of more

TOW-missile firings. That, however, was not comforting. It could only mean that the forward elements were finished and were pulling back to clear the way for the main body of the enemy force. Vorishnov wondered whether the

Americans had been in defensive positions that were missed by the regimental recon or whether the battle developing was a bona fide meeting engagement in which the Americans now had the upper hand. The truth, however, did not matter at that moment. What did matter was that the battalion was again going into battle, regardless of how it had come about. Their orders were to find and fix the Americans. Once the situation had been developed, the tank battalion behind the 3rd would move to the left or the right to seek the Americans’ flank. The quickest and most effective method of finding the enemy was to continue the attack. Once contact was reestablished, the battalion would turn and attack whoever did the firing.

The bright flash, the dazzling shower of sparks caused by the impact of a kinetic-energy round on a T-80, followed by the sharp crack of a tank cannon, told Vorishnov that they had found the enemy’s main body. Just as the battalion began to reorient on the source of the tanks firing, it was hit by a wave of antitank guided missiles, artillery and artillery-delivered mines. In less than a minute, command and control vaporized as the attacking force was overwhelmed with superior firepower and with confusion.

Having nothing left to control but his tank, Vorishnov joined the battle.

With his hatch buttoned up, he searched for a target. In his sight, the flash of an American tank firing caught his eye. “Target tank!

Traverse left.” The gunner turned his control handle and searched for the target.

Vorishnov saw it first. The green image of a tank’s turret was protruding above a mound, its gun pointed in another direction. “Target twelve o’clock. Fire!”

The gunner now saw what his commander saw, Lined his sight on the center of the target, depressed the laser range-finder button and waited for the system to input the data. When he was ready, he announced, “Firing!” and pulled the trigger.

The T-80 rolled on, its sights continuing to track the tank they had just engaged. In the distance a brilliant light cut through the obscuration kicked up by the firing of the gun. Vorishnov watched as a ball of fire rose into the black sky, casting long shadows on everything around. The

American tank was dead.

Without waiting for its crew, the T-80’s automatic loader was already preparing for the next engagement. The gun jerked into the loading position, slamming the breech open with a bang. The mechanical arm reached down and scooped up the next projectile and guided it into the breech.

Finished, the arm reached down and scooped up the powder bag, ramming it home behind the projectile. As his gunner searched for targets, Vorishnov watched the loading of the main gun, careful to stay out of the mechanical arm’s path. It’s too slow, he thought, too terribly slow.

Targets were now plentiful. Less than four hundred meters to their front an

American Bradley appeared out of nowhere. As Vorishnov prepared to engage, the reports of the follow-on battalion could be heard over the regimental command net. He was not concerned with those reports, however. The regimental battle was no longer his. His battle had degenerated to a one-on-one contest: his tank against whatever crossed its path.

“Mike Four-four, this is Oscar Six-eight. I have negative contact with my one six. I am assuming command. Over.” The tank-company commander was dead.

Lewis watched the situation board as he listened to the reports and the orders.

The S-3 responded without hesitation, “Oscar Sixeight, this is Mike Four-four. I roger your last transmission. What is your current situation?

Over.”

“Mike Four-four, this is Oscar Six-eight. Five tanks and two Bradleys left that I know of. Enemy tanks are now passing to-“There was a break in the transmission, then a moment of silence while everyone waited for the XO of the tank company to continue. But he did not. The S-3 tried to reestablish contact. “Oscar Six-eight, this is Mike Four-four. Say again all after enemy tanks passing. Over.” There was no response. Odds were that the XO’s tank had also been hit. God, Lewis thought, I don’t even know that kid’s name.

Reports were no longer clear, concise or, for the most part, even rendered.