They made the approach to the airfield keeping to small secondary roads and avoiding hamlets and farm buildings. Any they strayed near drew occasional AK-47 fire, which they ignored as they pressed on in the dark. Moving into the greenbelt closer to the river they came to a position about 5000 meters from the airfield, and that was when the heavy weapons in that Iraqi mech battalion opened up.
They hears the distant crump of artillery fire, and then the rounds sailing through the grey dawn until they fell heavily about 500 meters down the road. That was danger close.
“Goddamnit,” said the King. “They got artillery. That was unaimed fire, just warning shots, but they damn well know we’re out here.”
Yes, all it took was a curious Fedayeen farmer taking a look at what was moving in the night, and then getting on a radio to Balad. Darkness was not really reliable cover when you were rolling in Bad Guy country, where every hovel, hamlet, and farm was filled with hidden, unfriendly eyes.
“Falcon-1, this is Harrier. What was that fire we just heard?”
Needle Head wanted to know what was up.
“Harrier, this is Falcon-1. Be advised, the enemy is lobbing artillery—five rounds, unaimed fire, but danger close, sir. They’ve got guns.”
“Roger that, Falcon-1. Egress two klicks if it gets any closer and stand by. The rest of the battalion is coming up, and be advised, we have Black Jack at three. Over.”
“Black Jack?” said Neal. “That’s 2nd BCT.”
“Yes it is,” said King, with a satisfied nod.
“Well what did he mean, are they coming at three, or are they at our three-o-clock position?”
“Damn it Neal, if they were coming at three, then Needle Head would have said 15:00. Right? So that has to mean they’re coming up on our right flank at three-o’clock.”
“Not 15:00 o’clock, Sarge?”
“Don’t get cute, Neal. Remember, we’ve got a reporter with us.”
Another three rounds came in, this time only about 200 meters out—danger close, and then some.
“Sergeant,” said Sanchez, leaning over the wheel. “That artillery just got closer. Right?”
“They obviously corrected 300 meters, but they still couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn door, even if they were standing next to it!”
“But shouldn’t we … what did Needle Head say… egress?”
Before the Sergeant could answer, three more rounds came whistling in and this time they sailed right overhead, and straddled the road about 100 meters behind them.
“Damn, Sergeant. They can walk that shit right up that road. Those are just spotting rounds, but we just got bracketed. What if they fire for effect?”
King leaned out the window and spat. Then he reached for the comms with some reluctance and contacted Needle Head again. “Harrier this is Falcon-1. Moving to grid 37-47 as ordered. Over. The heat is on.”
King folded his arms, frowning. “Alright Sanchez, get on with it. Egress… Egress. But stay off that goddamn road. Move off to the right.”
“You got it, Sarge.”
Chapter 15
They fired up the Humvees, and were Oscar Mike—to the rear, a 2000 meter withdrawal as ordered. That was the lot of the Light Troops. They would often take point, because they were fast, light, and maneuverable. Their mission was to sniff out enemy opposition, determine what it might be, and then report to Squadron HQ. After that, it was up to Needle Head to determine what to do. Their problem was that light unarmored Humvees could rarely deal with any real opposition, so their war was one part bravado and dash, but two parts caution. There was no way they were going any further towards Balad AFB that night, not until that artillery settled down.
If the Iraqis had been more offensive minded, they might have attacked with four battalions and given 1/7th Cav a run for the money. As it happened, the mountain troops stayed north on the Tigris, digging in to guard the few bridges there, and that battalion from the Qusay Mech Division stayed put too. So there was nothing else to do but wait for the sun to rise, when they saw some welcome contrails in the sky.
The US Army always had a friend upstairs in the USAF. The routine now was to recon that airfield from above, and then drop some eggs on that nest before Black Jack came up to join the party. The first two battalions of that brigade to arrive were 4/9th Cav, and 1/9th CAB, and they had artillery too.
The battle for Balad AFB was tougher than anyone thought. 1/7thCav got orders to deploy west of the field, with its heavier elements attacking from that direction. But it was 2nd BCT of the division that would put in the main attack with its combined Arms Battalions. The Iraqis were well dug in, fighting from the concrete revetments that had been built for their nonexistent fighters, so the hardest fighting was in the south, where as many as 100 hardened revetments were clustered together. Just north of those were a series of great concrete mushrooms designed to house bigger planes, each one becoming a strong point for the Iraqis.
The Combined Arm’s Battalions each had 30 tanks, so there was plenty of firepower to do the job of breaking those positions. More often than not, it needed that heavy direct fire from the tanks, and on occasion, an air strike was called in to toast any position that was particularly stubborn.
Up in the northwest end of the field, 1/7th Cav moved out of the farmland known as Arab Ajil, and into an area with many storage huts, and a big squarish water pool near an old shooting range. There were four mushroom strong points there, and the first was fronted by three big tin roofed workshops for the planes and helicopters. A few old, broken Iraqi helos sat on the field, but they would never fly again. As Falcon-1 was basically light infantry, the troops were ordered to dismount and take those three workshops.
“You’d better stay put here, Weasel,” said the Sergeant. “You ain’t trained for infantry fighting. Stay with Duran.”
That suited the Weasel fine, but as the sound of small arms fire rattled away, he found himself straining to see what was happening so he could get some pictures. But he had to stay out near a barrel storage area near the water pool, watching the infantry advancing across 500 meters of open ground. Half way to those three workshop buildings, they started taking fire, and went to ground. Then all the Humvees, opened up to give their comrades heavy supporting fire with the big MG’s. The heavy rounds pierced the metal sided buildings, and caused a lot of mayhem. Then Todd saw the soldiers flinging smoke grenades, and the whole scene was awash in white fog.
It was a classic infantry attack, and Falcon-1 was getting some as they stormed the first workshop, driving the last of the Iraqi soldiers out and gunning down three others. When that fell, the troops in the other two shops fell back towards the big aircraft bunker, their retreat peppered and harried by fire as they went.
The Light Troops held the workshops but that was one heavy concrete shelter up ahead, and they had nothing bigger than a 40mm grenade launcher or a Javelin, so that was what they used. The Iraqis were trying to get the big metal doors closed, but that autogrenade launcher just pounded the entrance with grenades, and then they hissed in a Javelin round.
Designed to pierce the armor of tanks, it blew through that door, and it wasn’t long before they saw a white flag waving from the smoky entrance. These Iraqis did not really want to die in that concrete bunker, slammed by Javelins with a deafening roar when they exploded. So that night Falcon-1 had that bunker cleared, while Falcon-2 was fighting for the others a little to the southeast.