From the brief glimpses, the operations officer began to put together a picture of what was happening. The aircraft that had been loitering over Iraq had turned and were now making high-speed runs toward the Gulf.
The aircraft that had been mistaken for recon flights were likewise headed for the Gulf. The computer, working with these brief glimpses, began to piece together an attack profile. The straight flight patterns being followed by the Soviet aircraft and their speed left the operations officer no doubt as to what was happening. The Soviets were making for Bandar Abbas, for the air corridors that transited the Gulf and, worse, for the AWACS.
Orders immediately went down to the air wings in Iran, Oman and Saudi Arabia to scramble all fighters and intercept the incoming bandits.
The F-15s in Iran were directed to cover their base, those in Saudi Arabia were dispatched to cover the air corridors, and the Omanbased fighters were called to wrap themselves around the AWACS. In addition to the scrambling of the fighters, incoming transports were waved off to alternate landing sites out of range of the Soviet threai. The AWACS began to leave their oval tracks and fly south, attempting to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the incoming attack.
Given time, the Soviets would catch up with the AWACS if the American fighters didn't make it. Every second, however, helped in combat.
In the flurry of activity and orders, the controllers, now personally involved in the life-and-death struggle in the sky for the first time, did not see the real threat of the day wind its way slowly and insidiously toward the American front. Like snakes slithering through tall grass, hundreds of transport helicopters from the north began to converge on several points along the perimeter held by the men of the 12th Division and the 17th Airborne.
The move from Tabriz to bases south of Tehran had been greeted with mixed feelings by the men of the Soviet 285th Airborne Regiment. Some of the men had become quite comfortable with their garrison duties and were in no hurry to put themselves again in danger of mutilation or death. Others had found their duties either boring or distasteful and sought combat as an acceptable form of escape.
Junior Lieutenant Ilvanich was one of those who sought escape. His duties as an executioner had been a source of pain and conflict to the young lieutenant. Hiding behind the excuse of duty did nothing to wipe away the images of dead civilians falling before the rifles of his men with a regularity that was maddening. Each day he promised himself that he would leave what he did during the day in the confines of the courtyard where the executions took place. Each night, however, he failed as the images of the dead crept into the small room where he struggled to sleep. Only the intervention of the KGB major who had given him the task in the first place saved Ilvanich from total insanity.
The KGB major took a liking to the young lieutenant and his men, and, content that Ilvanich was deserving, he arranged for better billeting and rations for them as a reward. Ilvanich, though at first reluctant, accepted the improved conditions. A few days later, the major began to use Ilvanich for special missions, including courier and liaison duties. For this Ilvanich was given a vehicle that, the major casually mentioned, could be used by Ilvanich when he wasn't needed for official duties. The young lieutenant, taught from an early age to distrust the KGB, made sure to do only what was required and not abuse his freedom or status.
This behavior, noted by the major, in turn resulted in greater trust and new duties, including the guarding of the KGB headquarters in Tabriz by Ilvanich's men. Though boring, it was preferable to being executioners.
The greatest surprise came when Ilvanich was made a Hero of the Soviet Union for his role in stopping a breakthrough at the airfield in Tabriz during the opening days of the war. Though he was pleased to receive the honor, realization that the KGB major had probably been instrumental in securing the award for him frightened Ilvanich. Slowly he was being drawn into the KGB major's power. The major had adopted the young lieutenant and seemed to be preparing him for other duties that the State required. It was therefore a blessing when orders came down to report back to the regiment and prepare for future operations.
The regiment had changed. In his old battalion there were new officers and men. Ilvanich was surprised to find that a captain from the division staff, rather than the old deputy company commander, had been put in command. From the beginning Ilvanich and Lvov did not get along. The captain had not made the jump into Tabriz and had no combat experience. He knew how to give a good political indoctrination to the company, but that failed to impress those of the unit who had survived the jump. Ilvanich, on the other hand, was looked up to by all the officers and men. First, he was a veteran, a recognized leader and a decorated hero. Second, he had been able to take care of his men by securing special privileges and rations for them.
Finally, the men could trust him and talk to him. They felt comfortable in his presence and he in theirs.
Captain Lvov sought to humble the young junior lieutenant in an effort to solidify his position as the commander, but failed when Ilvanich responded with cold but proper military courtesy. As the unit trained and prepared for the upcoming mission, the junior lieutenant always had his men ready before anyone else and without fail was always one or two steps ahead of the captain in anticipating requirements or reading the tactical situation.
Rather than use his lieutenant's ability to his advantage, the captain only redoubled his efforts to break him. Public ridicule and dressing-downs for trivial matters became a routine for Ilvanich. This treatment, however, never seemed to bother him. Lvov's efforts to evoke a hostile response with abuse were always returned by a cold, hard stare from Ilvanich's steel-blue eyes and expressionless face. There was nothing the captain could do to penetrate the hard shell that the junior lieutenant had created and withdrawn into out of necessity.
The interior of the M-8 helicopter was black as a coal mine. Yet Ilvanich could feel the captain's eyes on him. The feeling was more than mere paranoia. When the company began to assemble and prepare for the mission, the captain always seemed to be behind Ilvanich, watching him. Ilvanich's men had noticed the captain's behavior and casually asked whether there was something the young lieutenant needed. Each time one of his squad leaders asked him that question, the lieutenant merely answered that he would not require any assistance in doing what was necessary. Ilvanich clutched his assault rifle and pondered what would really be necessary.
The announcement by the pilot that they were fifteen minutes out tore Ilvanich's thoughts away from his dilemma and switched them to the impending operation. Two battalions of the 285th Airborne Regiment were going in to seize the airfield at Kerman by air assault. Defending the airfield was a battalion of Americans from the elite 12th Light Infantry Division. This would be the first confrontation between Soviet and American ground forces. The men new to the regiment were uneasy, not knowing what would happen and unsure how they would act. The veterans, almost to a man, slept. Only Ilvanich, clutching his rifle, was awake, peering into the darkness in the direction of his captain.