When the attack reached this point, Andrew Fretello carefully rose up off the ground onto one knee in an effort to get a better view of the site below. One by one, the soldiers to his left and right ceased fire, not because they had been ordered to, but due, instead, to the grim fact that they lacked targets. Only the grenadiers, methodically working their way from one pit to the next, continued to engage.
From his position, Patrick Hogg caught sight of his American commander and did likewise. "Hold your positions and keep your eyes open, lads," he called out to his men. "Make sure of your target before you fire."
Sensing that this lull was the prelude to his advance, Allons moved over to where Stanislaus Dombrowski lay on the ground, eyes wide open as he searched for new targets. Coming up behind the Pole, Allons was careful when he placed his hand upon Dombrowski's shoulder so as not to startle the man. "It is time. Prepare yourself, but do not move until I give the word."
Nodding as he pushed himself up off the ground, the Pole continued to observe his sector even as he called out to Ingelmann, "Well, my friend, it is time to find out if all of this has been for naught."
In the aftermath of the one-sided firefight, the ever-cheerful Austrian was unable to muster up little more than a weak "Oui" in response. Even if he had been able to quickly push aside his own role in the engagement, the ponderous, steady thump of another grenade being launched, followed seconds later by a dull explosion, served to remind him that the killing was not yet over.
The chatter of small-arms fire in the distance startled Demetre Orlov. Stopping short, the Russian colonel knew in an instant what it meant. The NATO commandos had beaten them to the silo. Though there was still the chance that their attack would fail, such a hope would not be a sound basis upon which to base his actions. Instinctively, he turned and looked back to the rear of the column, where his deputy normally stayed. It took him a moment to remember that Petkovic was no longer with them. That, he told himself, was a blunder that was going to cost them. Though the major may have betrayed him once, he was still a professional soldier who would have been a valuable asset in the circumstances they were about to face.
Without giving the matter further thought, Orlov called out the name of the next officer in the chain of command. "Captain Cherkov!"
From his place near the head of the column, the office summoned made his way over to where his commander waited. Every so often, Cherkov would glance over his shoulder when a fresh volley, sounding like a string of Chinese firecrackers in the distance, erupted.
Even before the anxious young officer reached him, his commanding officer was shouting out orders. "You're to take the first section and continue straight on to the objective."
Winded, Cherkov nodded as he struggled to catch his breath. "Yes, sir. Of course."
"If the NATO commander has done what he is supposed to do," Orlov continued, "you will hit their security screen. You are to maneuver as you see fit, but go after them with everything you have as soon as you make contact. Regardless of the cost, keep up the pressure. Don't let them break off the engagement."
The men who were able to overhear their commander's orders turned and looked at each other grim-faced when the words "regardless of the cost" were mentioned. Since the currency of battle is measured in men's lives, they understood that it would be their lives that would be used to cover the expense of the pending operation.
Orlov paid no heed to what his men were doing, and even less to what they might be thinking, as he went on outlining his plan to his new deputy. "While you are engaging their screen, 1 will take sections two and three and circle around to the right." Though he expected that Cherkov would have his hands full as the second in command, it was important that the captain know his commander's concept of operations just in case he found it necessary to step up and assume that position as well. "If we are in time," Orlov concluded, "I will hold one of the sections back just shy of the silo to provide a base of fire and use the other to rush in, disable any demolitions the NATO troops have managed to place, and secure the site. Is that clear?"
"Yes. Very clear." Then, having acknowledged his instructions, Cherkov threw a question at his harried commander. "Where do you want me to go with the first section if we manage to overwhelm the enemy?"
Not having thought out any permutations of the problem at hand, Orlov took a moment before he answered, "Go to the left. That way, if I'm stopped, you can come at the enemy from behind. If necessary, I will hold their attention while you clear the site."
Though all of this took but a few minutes, the sound of distant gunfire was already fading. Resistance at the silo, Orlov guessed, was coming to an end. Reaching out, he grabbed Cherkov's shoulder and gave it a shake. "Now go, quickly. We don't have much time."
Chapter 23
Even before the echoes of the final rounds fired in the one-sided engagement had drilled away. Sergeant-Chef Dombrowski and Corporal I'ranz Ingelmann were on their feet and boiling forward toward the concrete silo cover. Hector Allons, who had also been quick to scramble to his feet, became alarmed when he saw his demo party going forth. "Stanislaus! Hold up. You need to wait until we have swept the area and secured the objective."
The Spaniard's efforts to rein in his headstrong subordinate were in vain. There was only one thing on the big Pole's mind at the moment. Petty concerns such as enemy resistance were of little concern to him. Though infinitely more attuned to the dangers they were exposing themselves lo. Ingelmann did not even break stride when he heard Allons's order. In part, he appreciated the simple fact that the sooner they set up their charge and ran out the wire, the sooner they would be done with this miserable mission. But the main reason the Austrian legionnaire so willingly trotted along in the wake of the big Polish NCO without looking back was the trust he placed in his companion. Nothing anyone said or did could shake a conviction he secretly held that as long as he stayed at Dombrowski's side, everything would work out.
Seeing that his efforts to slop or delay his sergeant had been for naught. Allons lifted his hand over his head, threw it forward, and yelled. "Legionnaires, forward!" louder than he had intended while breaking into a run himself.
Still pumped up with adrenaline from their just-concluded engagement, and taking his shouted order to advance as a call for an enthusiastic charge, the remaining legionnaires found themselves caught in an unintended frenzy. With whoops and yells more reminiscent of a barbaric horde, Allons' command took up their leader's pace and rushed forward into what they thought was an attack.