Three minutes. Time seemed to stand still. It was taking so long to get there. These things always seemed to take forever.
The image of the BRDM, growing by the second, seemed to fill Hewett's sight. He no longer concerned himself with the one to the left. It was falling behind and not his concern. At that moment, his entire life, his whole being, centered around the image of the enemy vehicle bearing down on him. Time swept by. Any second now. Hewett began to control his breathing, taking in a full breath, letting it out, taking another. He watched the BRDM, he timed his breath, he waited until he felt he could wait no more.
At that instant he drew in one final breath, held it, then squeezed the trigger.
Although he was looking right at it when it fired, Kurpov did not immediately recognize the antitank guided missile for what it was. For the briefest of moments, he stared at the bright-orange orb closing on him.
"Missile, missile, missile! Driver, hard right!" The order surprised the driver, but he responded with a violent jerk to the left. The maneuver threw Kurpov off balance and sent him sprawling onto the floor of the BRDM.
Hewett held his breath and kept the sight glued to the BRDM. Five seconds, that was all it would take the missile to fly five hundred meters. Three seconds were gone, two to go. Hewett had almost anticipated the sharp turn. With ease he followed the BRDM as it now exposed its flank to him. Hewett gripped the launcher tightly, his eye pressed to the sight, and held his breath until the bright glow of the high-explosive warhead on the side of the BRDM lit up his sight.
Kurpov was lying on the floor, looking up and struggling to grab on to something when the missile slammed into the side of the BRDM. The dark interior was suddenly lit up by a blinding flash of light. The shaped-charge warhead had detonated on the side of the BRDM and formed a jet stream of molten metal that bored its way through the vehicle's thin armor. As the jet stream pushed through, it added the BRDM's armor that lay in its path, now liquefied and white hot, to the stream.
In horror Kurpov saw the stream cut through the gunner. The man's shrieks were cut short by the explosion of onboard ammunition. Blinded by the light, unable to move or avoid the jet stream, Kurpov felt himself being ripped by fragments and peppered by molten clumps of metal tossed aside as the jet stream dissipated. He screamed as his brain was overwhelmed with pain. He was unconscious when the final cataclysmic explosion tore the BRDM apart.
Hewett didn't need to watch the death of the BRDM. The initial impact told him he had scored a square hit. The BRDM wasn't going anywhere anymore.
Instead of watching, he turned to the task of taking his sight from the expended Dragon tube and fitting it to the new round held by the assistant gunner. They had just about completed their drill when the sky was lit up by the explosion of the second BRDM. Thompson had also scored.
Hewett finished what he was doing and looked back at the BRDM he had hit.
It was now totally involved in flames. Fuel dripped from a ruptured tank, forming a flaming little pond that spread as he watched. For a moment, he considered the crew. That thought, however, was interrupted by the sharp report of a 30mm. gun. In the distance, at a point from which the two BRDMs had 301 come, an automatic cannon was firing. Hewett, seeing that the firing was wild, put his sight up to his eye and began to search for the new enemy.
The battle had just been joined. It would be a long and bloody night as two antagonists, each many miles from home, tore at each other in a battle that would, at best, someday be referred to as a sideshow.
Chapter 16
The unleashed power of the atom has changed everything save our modes of thinking, and we thus drift toward unparalleled catastrophes.
The airfield was visible from a distance as the patrol crossed the open fields. The sight gave the footsore paratroopers heart. After four days of ceaseless patrolling during the day that found nothing and ambushes at night that yielded nothing, the men were tired. The airfield promised them a meal of hot tea and kasha. While they were on patrol campfires had not been allowed, preventing the men from preparing tea to accompany their dry rations of canned meat and black bread. Though they knew they would have only two days, three at the most, before they went out again, any break was welcome.
Before entering the airfield's perimeter, the patrol was stopped by their commanding officer and ordered to straighten out their uniforms and equipment. They would still be dirty, but at least they would give the impression that they were a disciplined military unit. The paratroopers, despite being tired and anxious to get back into the safety of the perimeter, did not complain. No one, not even new men assigned to the unit, complained or hesitated when Lieutenant Ilvanich gave an order.
As if on parade, Ilvanich, followed by Junior Lieutenant Malovidov, walked down the line of paratroopers, stopping in front of each.
Ilvanich addressed each paratrooper by his full name and chatted or joked with him while he inspected or made an adjustment.
Malovidov watched intently everything livanich did. New to the unit, he had been sent on the patrol to learn from llvanich. Intimidated at first due to his teacher's reputation and manner, Malovidov was confused by the time they finished. Most of what the lieutenant did and the way in which he conducted himself had never been taught in the military academy or the officers' training courses Malovidov had attended. Ilvanich often did not follow doctrine or proper procedures.
Despite his cold and aloof manner, the men under his command worshiped him, following his every order and direction without hesitation, question or complaint. When combat appeared imminent, the lieutenant became a cold, unfeeling machine, seeing all and spewing out orders rapidly, efficiently. The men responded to him as if they had anticipated his orders. When Malovidov asked livanich why he had done something, the lieutenant often snapped, "Because that is the way to do it." The junior lieutenant, having much to learn, was not sure he could from such an enigma.
Nor could Malovidov penetrate Ilvanich's personal world. Efforts at striking up conversation about home and family were met with silence or curt remarks such as "That is not important right now" or "You should be concerning yourself with military matters, not idle gossip." As far as Malovidov could determine, Ilvanich had no real friends. What free time he had he spent alone, often out of sight of the rest of the unit. This worried Malovidov. He wondered whether he himself would be come as sullen and unfriendly once he had been in combat as much as Ilvanich had been. He hoped he would not, but he did not discount the possibility. The young lieutenant had heard that combat did strange things to a man's mind.
As the patrol entered the perimeter, Ilvanich was shocked to see the KGB major for whom he had worked in Tabriz. The major was waiting for him.
After the two officers saluted, the KGB major offered a friendly smile, while the lieutenant carefully guarded his surprise and suspicions.
"Lieutenant Ilvanich, congratulations on your well deserved promotion."
Ilvanich, straight-faced, thanked the major. Then, anxious to find out the purpose of the visit, he asked, "What brings you, Comrade Major, to the garden spot of Iran?"
The major laughed and threw his arm around llvanich. "We have a mission for you. Turn your patrol over to the junior lieutenant and walk with me."