For the briefest of moments, Uleski paused as his eyes took on a distant, almost contemplative appearance as if he was mentally replaying the scenes he’d beheld as the tanks with him overran the Soviet battery. Then, as quickly as it had come, the look was gone as he turned his full attention back to the matter at hand.
“We destroyed the guns, their prime movers and cut down anyone who wasn’t quick enough to get away. Not many did,” he added in a gleeful manner that sent a chill down Bannon’s spine. That his XO took pride in what they had done to the Russian gunners came as no surprise to him. After watching so many of the vehicles in Team Yankee get hit, he and the tankers with him were out for blood, ready to engage in an all-out a killing frenzy, one Uleski seemed to have relished.
“We literally ran down and over every Russian that got in our way. Everyone was firing whatever weapon he could bring to bear as we hunted the Soviet gunners down, sometimes one at a time. Four of the little shits made it to a house on the edge of Arnsdorf. The last man in closed the door as if that would keep the tank that was pursuing them out. It didn’t. The tank just drove up to the house, rammed its main gun through the door, and fired a HEAT round. When the house burst into flames, the tank backed up a few meters and waited. When two Russians came out, the tank cut them down.”
Throughout this story, Uleski’s face betrayed neither revulsion nor regret. His eyes, set in a steady gaze, cut through Bannon like fingernails being scraped across a chalkboard. Three days of war had done much to harden Bob Uleski. As Bannon watched his XO’s face and listened to his story in silence, he could not help but wonder just how much he had changed.
Uleski paused for a moment after finishing his report on the action against the battery, using the silence that followed to mentally set that incident aside before moving on to filling Bannon in on the Team’s current status. “After the tanks were finished with the Russian battery, we withdrew up the hill and occupied the positions they’re currently in. There were several minor wounds that had required tending, but nothing critical. Ammo has been counted and is being redistributed as we speak. Main gun rounds are the big problem. Each of the tanks here is down to ten rounds of SABOT and six rounds of HEAT. If and when the Soviets got serious about counterattacking, I fear we’re going to run out.”
“Personnel?” Bannon asked crisply.
“Not much better,” Uleski shot back without hesitation. “Unless you know something I don’t, the dead and missing include Unger and his entire FIST team, Sergeant Pierson and the 34 tank, and Lieutenant Harding who was wounded as he was rolling through on LOG. That leaves me with the Alpha 55, Garger with 31, Sergeant First Class Hebrock with 24 and Staff Sergeant Rhoads with 22.”
Tuning to Polgar, Bannon cocked a brow. “What about you? What kind of shape is you platoon in?”
Easing back, Polgar sighed. “Well, there’s the 23 track with Staff Sergeant Flurer and 2nd Squad and my own track with Staff Sergeant Jefferson and the 3rd Squad. All told, I’ve seventeen men, two tracks, and two Dragon trackers with three missiles for each.”
It didn’t take long for Bannon to do the math. Team Yankee was now down to four tanks, two PCs, two Dragons, and thirty-five men. Even worse, he had no idea where anyone else in the battalion was or what the battalion was doing. For all he knew, 3rd of the 78th Infantry no longer existed. And even if it did, it was in no position to help him. He and the rump of Team Yankee were on their own.
The one bright spot Bannon could latch onto was that the enemy had yet reacted to the loss of Hill 214. After destroying the artillery battery, the tanks had had no contact with the Russians. It was, however, only a matter of time before they did. The presence of Team Yankee on Hill 214 or in the area had to be known. Why else would the three tanks Alpha 66 had encountered have been pulled out of their positions and sent backpedaling in the middle of a battle?
Also on the plus side was Bannon’s doubt that the Soviets knew how much, or how little, was on 214. If the Russians stayed true to form, before they did anything they would send in a small recon element to locate the Team to ascertain their size, composition and, if possible, pin them. Once they had done that, the Soviets would strike and strike hard.
While Uleski and Polgar were gathering up all the track commanders, Bannon weighed his options. They could withdraw. As there had been no contact with battalion since the attack had begun, and there was little prospect of making contact anytime soon, withdrawal would be acceptable. Because of its losses, Team Yankee was no longer able to perform a Team-sized mission. Added to that, ammunition was becoming critically low. Finally, he had no idea when, or even if, battalion would link up. Although Polgar had informed him that LOG had been cleared, only Harding and a few wounded had been left to hold that hill while they waited for Team Bravo to move up. If the Soviets wanted to, they’d be able to reoccupy it with ease. All in all, Bannon concluded, remaining on Hill 214, knowing full well that the Soviets would be back, made no sense.
But neither did withdrawing. While there was almost no hope of holding Hill 214 against a determined counterattack given the Team’s current strength, there was no guarantee that the Russians would, or could, counterattack in strength. There was always the possibility that they were in just as bad shape as the Team was and didn’t have the wherewithal on hand to launch a counterattack. The fact that the Russians had been forced to throw three T-62s that had been in reserve unit or part of the security screen to sort out their rear area seemed to buttress this possibility. To withdraw his Team only learn later that there had been no threat would ensure the losses they’d suffer taking Hill 214 would have been in vain.
Finally, Bannon could not discount the possibility that the rest of the battalion would finally get its act together and continue with the mission. It would be humiliating to be in the process of withdrawing against an imagined foe only to run head-on into the rest of the battalion as it advanced up to Hill 214. Not that pride and humiliation were of prime concern to Bannon at the moment. It was just that such a possibility was as likely as any of the others he could come up with. Besides, the order to seize Hill 214 was still in effect.
It was decided, then. Team Yankee had taken this hill and was going to keep it until ordered elsewhere or thrown off. Only now did Bannon begin to appreciate the old saying that once soldiers had paid for a piece of ground with the blood of their comrades, the value of that land transcended what cold logic would otherwise calculate was true. For Team Yankee, the ground they were standing on was now the most important piece of real estate in Germany, a hill they would hold, consequences be damned.
With that, Bannon turned his full attention to how they would hold Hill 214. With four tanks, two squads of infantry, and two PCs, the Team could hold four to five hundred meters of front. Unfortunately, the Team was on its own. Somehow, the Team needed to secure its flanks and rear, not just its front. The Soviets might try a frontal attack once, but Bannon doubted they would not do it twice. Besides, they might try holding the Team’s attention to the front while maneuvering infantry through the woods to hit them in the rear. Flank and rear security were therefore critical.
“Well Bannon,” he muttered to himself as he walked out into the middle of the small laager the Team was currently occupying, “Let’s see how you’re gonna go about skinning this cat.”
While Sean Bannon was doing all he could to see to it that Team Yankee was as ready for whatever came its way, Lt. Col. Yuri Potecknov was preparing to execute his new mission in the exact, scientific manner that he had been taught at the Frunze Military Academy and had used in Afghanistan. It was a simple mission and well within the capabilities of his unit. A small probing attack by some American tanks had penetrated the thin security screen on the Army’s flank and was threatening a critical town named Arnsdorf. Colonel Potecknov’s orders were to wipe out the enemy force and restore the security screen.