Ed Lewis paced back and forth in the battalion TOC, from the situation map hung from the TOC extensions at one end of the work area to the rear of the M-577 command-post carrier and back again. Master Sergeant Ken Mayfree, sitting at a field desk, was monitoring the radios and recording a summary of all transmissions in a duty log. Although Lewis could listen to the same radio transmissions over remote speakers located near the map, he preferred to stand in front of Mayfree and listen there. The major's nervous restlessness was contagious and annoying. Finally, while Lewis was standing in front of him, Mayfree looked his major in the eye and whispered, "Ed, if you don't sit down and cool it, I'm gonna break your kneecaps. You're makin' me nervous."
Lewis looked at Mayfree with a blank look, mumbled an apology and went over to the situation map, where he sat down next to the speaker of the battalion radio net. He sat there for all of five minutes before he was up pacing again.
The 2nd Battalion of the 354th Mechanized Infantry had crossed the line of departure on time at 2100 hours as part of an attack to support the corps's main effort, also commencing at 2100 hours. The main attack, farther to the west, was being made by the 4th Armored Division and a British armored brigade. The 52nd Infantry Division, Mechanized, would follow. The 3rd Brigade's mission was to confuse the Soviets as to where the main effort was being delivered and pin as many enemy forces for as long as possible.
Since 2100 hours the only reports received at the TOC of the 2nd of the 354th had been that the line of departure had been crossed by the scout platoon, followed by the two lead companies. Either the enemy had withdrawn or they were sucking the battalion into a fire sack. While the unopposed progress was welcome, everyone knew that it would not and could not last.
The Soviets were out there, somewhere, waiting.
The battalion staff at the TOC was impatient. Every time the radio crackled to life, ears perked up and breath was held. Reports of negative contact did not bring sighs of relief, only heightened tension.
Until something happened, there was nothing for the people at the TOC to do.
Those staff officers with the command group, which was following the lead companies, were out there, moving forward, which at least gave them the sense of accomplishing something, doing something. The idle minds of the staff at the TOC, removed from the danger of battle, were fertile ground for nightmares and fear.
"Mike Four-four, this is Tango Three-two. Spot report. Over."
Lewis turned to the board where the radio call signs were posted. It was the scout-platoon leader calling the S-3.
Tango Three-two, this is Mike Four-four. Send it. Over." The in tell sergeant prepared to write the information down on a blank spot-report form. Lewis watched as Captain Norm Smithson, the assistant operations officer, stood near the map with grease pencil in hand, ready to mark the enemy locations sighted by the scouts.
"This is Tango Three-two. Six tanks moving south correction make that nine tanks moving south vicinity five two zero, seven seven five. They look like T-80s, but we cannot confirm. Continuing to observe. Over."
Lewis thought about that for a moment. Who else could they be? The thermal sights of the Bradley, great for seeing in the dark, did not always provide a good clear image. Vehicle recognition was, at times, difficult.
The battalion commander called Lewis. "Mike Sixeight, this is Mike One-six. Get with higher and find out if we have any friendlies stumblin' about in the dark to our front. Over."
Lewis acknowledged and picked up the hand mike for the brigade radio net.
He was about to make the call when the scout-platoon leader came back with another report:
"Mike Four-four, this is Tango Three-two. Update on that last spot report. Eighteen T-80 tanks-I say again, T-80 tanks-moving south. Lead element now at five two zero, seven seven zero. We are assuming hasty defense vicinity checkpoint zero eight and preparing to engage. Request artillery and permission to engage. Over."
All eyes in the TOC were on Smithson as he moved the plastic symbol that represented the battalion's scout platoon and placed it on the map where checkpoint 08 was located. The in tell sergeant took a red plastic armor-unit symbol imprinted with the number 18 and placed it where. the scout-platoon leader had reported the enemy formation. The fire-support officer, hearing the request for fire, was already on his radio, talking to the artillery unit supporting the battalion.
After a moment, the S-3 called back to the scout platoon leader,
"Tango Three-two. This is Mike Fourfour. Are you sure they're T-80s?"
The scout-platoon leader, without hesitation, replied, "Affirmative. If we wait another minute I can give you the bumper numbers of all twenty-five T-80 tanks."
Slightly disturbed by the wisecrack about the bumper numbers, the S-3 replied sharply, "Permission to engage. Break." Then, to Smithson, "Mike Nine-one, this is Mike Four-four. Get the red legs on that target. Report to higher we are deploying to engage an enemy tank battalion attacking south. I will keep you advised. Over."
The waiting was over. The tension and stress of waiting was replaced by a flurry of frantic activity in the TOC. Calls went out to the brigade S-2 over the in tell net, to the brigade S-3 over the brigade-command net and to artillery units. The S-3 began to issue orders to the company commanders over the battalion-command net, telling them where to deploy and how to orient their units. Lewis watched and listened to all that was happening.
He made sure that all people who needed to be notified were and that the orders that were being put over the battalion command net by the S-3 were written down and accurately posted on the situation map in the TOC. There was much activity but no confusion. They had done this before. The procedures the staff were now going through were no different from those they had used when conducting command-post exercises back in Tennessee. The difference this time, however, was that there were now real people out there. Real bullets were going to be fired, and real people were going to die. It was Lewis' job to see that everything was done to ensure that it would be the Soviets who did most of the dying.
Through the darkness the 3rd Battalion rolled. Vorishnov was concerned about their lack of coordination and of intelligence about what was to their front. Reports of enemy activity had been received on and off for the last hour at the regiment from its own recon elements operating somewhere to the 3rd Battalion's front. Vorishnov had hoped to go forward during the day and coordinate with the commander of the recon unit they were supposed to follow. He had wanted to get a feel for the terrain the battalion would cross as well as some information on enemy unit locations and mine fields.
For security, however, additional recon had not been permitted. The division did not want to risk revealing when and where the tank regiments were going to be committed.
The failure in coordination now began to manifest itself. When the tank regiment reached the point where it was to link up with the recon battalion of the motorized rifle division, no one was there. Continued efforts to contact someone and effect a link-up failed. Falling behind schedule, the tank regiment was ordered forward without an escort.
Ignorant of exact locations of both friendly and enemy forces, the 3rd Battalion, 68th Tank Regiment, plunged into the night and hoped for the best.
The sudden flashes on the battalion's flank therefore came as a surprise.
In the darkness, they at first appeared to be artillery impacting at a distance. It took a moment for the tank commanders to grasp the true situation as flame from the rocket motors of antitank guided missiles closed on the battalion's tanks. The lead-company commander reported the missile attack while his tanks traversed their turrets in the direction of the oncoming missiles.