They’d left from Gdansk at six that morning, despite the risks of daylight travel. Speed was more urgent than anything else, and headquarters had reassured them that there would be continuous fighter patrols over the convoy. Well, Reynolds hadn’t seen any aircraft from either side, but at least they’d arrived intact. Part of his relief over the end of the journey was his joy at getting out of what his trained eye told him was a conspicuous, barely mobile, and horribly vulnerable four-wheeled target. As an infantryman in a combat zone full of tanks, artillery pieces, and laser-guided munitions, Reynolds was only really comfortable in cover and on his own two feet.
It had taken them four hours to cover the 125 kilometers between Gdansk and the small town of Swiecie. He was sure many tourists had taken the same trip. Highway 5 paralleled the Vistula River, past historic buildings and hundreds of small farms. It would have been a scenic drive if not for the bedraggled refugees clogging the road. Although Gdansk had shown all the signs of war, the morning’s trip had given Reynolds a real sense of the struggle. Those people on the road had not left their homes because of some abstract threat. Armies were on the move.
All along the route, bombed-out buildings had provided evidence of EurCon power. Polish demolition teams were also busy. At first, Reynolds had thought the wrecked bridges and cratered roads were more results of EurCon air raids, but then they had driven past a party of engineers actually blowing the bridge over the Vistula at Grudziadz.
“They don’t have a lot of confidence in us, do they?” he thought, but he remembered Thompson’s speech. The Poles were realists. He and his troops were all too likely to be coming back over this road again, heading in the other direction.
The relatively short trip also brought home to Reynolds just how close the French and German divisions were to their goal. Even at twenty-mph convoy speeds, he and his troops had covered the distance in a single morning. If the 101st didn’t slow EurCon down, and quickly, Gdansk would fall.
The closer they got to Swiecie, the fewer civilians they saw, and the more military activity. He was relieved to see a group of AH-64 Apache attack helicopters half-hidden in a copse of woods, and, as they drove into the town itself, he spotted a battery of Hawk missiles guarding the gunships.
Swiecie was the forward support base for the 3rd Brigade and its three infantry battalions, and drab green-gray vehicles lined its narrow streets. The Piast Hotel, the only one in town, had been taken over as the brigade’s headquarters. Reynolds guessed that Americans now outnumbered Poles in this village, especially with so many of the original inhabitants in flight.
As he watched his men debark, all stretching and yawning, a private came up and saluted. “Battalion brief in the hotel, sir, right away.”
Reynolds acknowledged his salute, gathered up his assembling platoon leaders, and headed for the hotel.
The Piast was a stone and brick building, shabby enough to be “rustic” but really just spartan and old. The dining room on the main floor was quickly filling with the 3rd Battalion’s officers, all silent as they waited for the final details of their assignment. Tables and chairs had been pushed to one side, while easels in the center held maps and status boards.
Reynolds spotted his battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Jeff Colby, conferring with the brigade’s civil affairs officer. The S-5’s responsibilities included the civilian evacuation plan, and while their convoy hadn’t been horribly delayed by the refugees streaming north, the main road was supposed to have been kept clear. Reynolds was sure the hapless captain was receiving some pithy, pungent feedback from the colonel.
Reynolds liked Colby. A flamboyant, energetic commander, he had passed on some of that energy to his battalion — to some extent compensating for Colonel Iverson’s restrained style. Sometimes, though, he seemed too flamboyant, too “hell-for-leather,” to be real. The colonel had the “army look,” a lean frame with a long, tanned face and close-cropped hair, in this case brown. He was also a Desert Storm veteran, though not as a battalion commander.
Reynolds sighed. The real issues weren’t with Colby, but with himself, and with the entire battalion. Would they hang together? Would this complex machine built of men and weapons work right? The shooting was still too far away for him to feel any personal fear, but he’d admitted to himself that he was terribly afraid of screwing up.
Colby finished his conversation, straightened up, and looked around. Only a few of the battalion’s thirty-odd officers were absent, and he said, in a powerful, carrying voice army wags said was only issued to lieutenant colonels and above, “All right, let’s get it done.”
Even as he spoke, an enlisted man passed out copies of the battalion operations order. Reynolds quickly scanned its cramped, coded, familiar format:
TF CONTROL
Scouts
81mm Mortars
3/C/326 EN (OPCON)
3-320 FA (DS) (105mm)
213 Polish FA BN (155mm)
A/1/101 AVN (DS)
1. Situation a. Enemy Forces. II EurCon Corps is expected to continue offensive operations, driving on Gdansk. In our sector we can expect to see reinforced brigade and division-sized attacks, supported by air and artillery. They are at 75 % to 90 % strength, and their morale is good.
b. Friendly Forces. To our front is the Polish 314th Mechanized Regiment. To our left (across the Vistula River, division and corps boundary) is the Polish 9th Mechanized Division. On our right we tie in with 2-187th. To our rear is Gdansk. 3rd BDE’s mission is to defend in sector to allow passage of the Polish 11th Mech Div and destroy enemy first echelon units. On order withdraw to subsequent battle positions near Laskowice.
c. Attachments and detachments. None.
2. Mission. TF 3-187 conducts defense NLT 2400 29 Jun to destroy enemy in sector VIC Swiecie. Assist the rearward passage of the Polish 314th Mech Rgmt. On order withdraw…
The rest of the order was amplification and explanation, but Reynolds instantly understood his task. Their battalion had its left flank anchored on the Vistula River, and would deploy its three infantry companies, with their attachments, on a line. Bravo Company, “Team Bastard,” had the left flank, west of the highway, then “The Choppers,” Charlie Company, then Reynolds’ Alpha Company. Engineers and TOW missiles were attached to every company but his. He might have been disappointed by that, but at least it meant that his men weren’t expected to take the heat.
He’d still see plenty of action, though. Third Brigade guarded the most direct route between the EurCon II Corps and Gdansk. EurCon would want that road, real bad.
Out in front of them, the Polish 314th Mechanized Regiment clung to a battle line north of Bydgoszcz. At its present strength of just forty tanks and APCs, it should have been withdrawn from the line and reequipped, but Poland had no reserves left. The 314th would have to hold the enemy for as long as it could, bloodying and delaying them.
After falling back through the 101st, the battered Polish regiment and its parent division would form a mobile reserve, resting and refitting. Meanwhile, the Screaming Eagles, and Reynolds’ “Angels from Hell,” would be responsible for keeping the advancing French and Germans at bay.
It took Alpha Company’s soldiers thirty minutes of hard marching to reach their section of the new line, minutes Reynolds was already ticking off against a midnight deadline. He and his troops had what seemed like a million things to do before then.