It was at this point that Neboatov became nervous. All seemed to be going too well. It was much too easy, like a summer maneuver. The Americans were waiting. They were intentionally holding their fire until the battalion was in a fire sack. Nervously he glanced from side to side for telltale signs of a trap. He saw none. The lead companies continued forward, disappearing into the smoke laid by the artillery and generated by the tanks in the lead. No orders or warning came over the radio. Nothing to indicate a change in the situation or a trap.
The battalion rolled forward at twenty-four kilometers per hour on a collision course with the Americans.
The second artillery barrage stopped. The rumble of the advancing Soviet vehicles could be felt before it was heard. Duncan stuck his head up over the lip of the foxhole and peered into the smoke and dust thrown up by impacting artillery. He could see nothing. But he could hear. The squeaking of tank sprockets and the rumble of their engines were joined by the higher-pitched whine of the BMPs, the chatter of machine guns, the pop and whoosh of antitank guided missiles being fired, and closein detonations.
The two companies in the forward positions were in contact with enemy forces.
Duncan reached down for the field phone and tried to ring up the platoon's squad leaders. No one answered. No doubt the wires had been severed by the artillery. He turned to the radiotelephone operator and ordered him to contact the company commander. While the operator tried in vain to raise anyone on the company-command net, Duncan raised his head again to see what was going on.
To his left he saw one of his Dragon gunners prop up his missile launcher in preparation. The sound of advancing tanks and BMPs grew louder. So did the machine-gun fire. The bursts of M-16 and SAW rifle fire were overriden by the sound of unfamiliar small-arms fire. Russian PKs and AKs, probably.
Every now and then a tank main gun would fire or the sharp report of a 30mm. cannon would rip through the air. Still Duncan could see nothing.
Suddenly, it was there. Like an apparition, the T-80 tank burst forth, its main gun sweeping from side to side menacingly. It was searching for targets, Duncan's men. The blast of a Dragon firing caught Duncan's attention. He turned and saw that the Dragon gunner who was to his left had let fly his missile at a tank farther to the left.
Duncan watched the flight of the missile as it raced for the tank. But it never made it.
Instead, the missile looped up, hung in the air for a moment, then grounded itself in a great explosion. Duncan turned back to see what had caused that. The Dragon gunner was no longer visible. The launch tube was lying on its side, its bipod legs turned askew in the air. The gunner had been hit.
He was probably at the bottom of his foxhole, wounded or dead.
The image of a great dark form in the corner of his eye caught Duncan's attention. He dropped to the bottom of his foxhole just as the track of a T-80 tank crushed the overhead cover. Broken beams, dirt and sandbags rained down on Duncan and his radio operator. The earth shook and quivered as the BMPs following bypassed Duncan's shattered position.
Desperately the two men struggled to free themselves.
Once clear of the rubble, Duncan stood up and looked to his left and right.
The line of tanks and BMPs that had overrun his platoon's positions was clearly visible to their 194 rear as they continued to roll south. To the right, the second-echelon company was passing through where the 2nd Platoon's positions were. Down in the valley before him he could see more Soviet vehicles moving toward them.
In an instant, he knew there was nothing more they could do there.
Yelling to his radio operator to follow, Duncan grabbed his rifle and bounded out of the foxhole. The two men ran down the platoon's line of foxholes, stopping at each one while Duncan reached in and shouted to those men who appeared to be alive to get their gear and follow him.
Some obeyed. A few didn't. Many couldn't. Those who could leaped out of their holes and followed their platoon sergeant at a dead run as they sought escape to the west, away from Rafsanjan and into the vast wasteland.
Neboatov didn't realize that they had actually overrun the American positions until his company went rumbling past smashed 105mm. artillery pieces. He was shocked. He stood upright and turned to his rear, trying to see where the defensive positions had been. He couldn't. It had all been too easy. Perhaps they hadn't yet hit the main defensive belt. Perhaps the Americans had withdrawn to better defensive positions during the day.
Bewildered, Neboatov returned his attention to the front and continued to follow the progress of the lead companies, watch the alignment of his platoons and listen for orders on the battalion radio net.
Chapter 11
Nothing is easy in war. Mistakes are always paid for in casualties and troops are quick to sense any blunder made by their commanders.
The offloading of the ships was surprisingly easy and fast despite the poor facilities and the damage to the port. Sufficient ramps and piers had been cleared to allow the RO-RO ships to come in and disgorge their contents with the speed and ease for which they were built. Had all the ships arrived, the whole movement from the States, with a few exceptions, would have been a complete success.
Not all the ships had made it. Four had been sunk en route and another badly damaged. Two of the ships lost had been carrying munitions and supplies. Two had equipment belonging to both the active-duty maneuver brigades of the 25th Armored Division and the division's support command.
While the loss of any one of the ships was serious, the loss of four and the nature of the loss were crippling. Rather than being able to field two fully equipped combat brigades, the division now had only enough equipment and supplies to field one weak brigade with two maneuver battalions instead of the normal three.
The bulk of the division's personnel had been held at Ras Banas, outside the war zone, until it could be determined which units would provide the people to man the limited amount of equipment that was available. It wasn't until the evening of 28 June that the 3rd of the 4th Armor and the 1st of the 29th Infantry were alerted that they, along with the 5th of the 55th Field Artillery, would deploy the next day to receive what equipment was available and form the 2nd Brigade. These units, once in Iran, would be equipped by pooling together the remaining equipment. Plans to use U.S. Army equipment pre-positioned in Europe were being discussed in Washington and at NATO Headquarters in Brussels, but no decision had been made. Every new move to divert units or equipment tagged for NATO was met with alarm by the NATO Allies. Still, in time, some equipment from Europe would be made available. Until then those personnel not required and without equipment stayed in Egypt until the equipment was available or they were required as replacements.
The arrival of the ships in the early-morning hours of the thirtieth was greeted by the personnel of the three battalions, the brigade headquarters and support units. Those selected to drive the vehicles off the ships and out of the port area stood and watched the ships of the convoy enter the port and tie up to the piers. At first an effort was made to off load the ships in an orderly manner, one unit at a time. This, however, quickly broke down due to the manner in which the ships had been loaded and intermittent air raids that sent ships' crews and military personnel alike scrambling for cover. Instead, the first driver who was handy and who thought he could operate the next vehicle in line was grabbed, put into the driver's hatch or behind the wheel and directed to drive to the appropriate equipment holding areas around the port area. MPs at the exit leading from the dock were instructed to direct all tanks to one area, all artillery pieces to another, trucks to a third, Bradley fighting vehicles to a fourth, and anything that didn't look like the others to 197 a fifth area called the Mox Nix area, from the German macht nichts, "it makes no difference."