Eager to end this deadlock, Polgar decided sent a Dragon gunner on a wide sweep around the flank to destroy the two Russian tanks that were doing their best to support the beleaguered infantry. Two other men, each carrying an extra Dragon round, went with the Dragon gunner to provide cover or, if he was hit before he was able to take out the tanks, take over from him. One of them was Kelp, who volunteered when he heard Polgar giving the order to the Dragon gunner.
Before going forward, the three-man team dropped back a short distance while the rest of the infantry line increased their fire to cover the move. The Dragon gunner, a Specialist 4 named Sanders, led the other two as they circled around the firefight, using the sound and the gun flashes to guide on. Whenever the Soviet tank fired, Sanders would reorient himself on it before continuing. They were going to go for the second tank first since it was still fully capable and therefore more dangerous. The crippled tank could be dispatched at their leisure.
Taking their time and taking care they didn’t run across any Russians who were in the process of making their end run to the rear of the Mech platoon’s positions, they closed in on the second tank from behind. To Sanders’ relief, he saw that it was wedged in between some trees, unable to move forward or backwards. After looking and listening for a moment to make sure there were no stray Russian soldiers around, he moved to a spot where he was fairly sure the trees and branches between him and the tank would not interfere with his wire-guided missile. Once he’d reach the spot he’d picked, he carefully set up his weapon as if he was on a shooting range, laying the tracker’s aim point on the rear of the Soviet-tank. After giving Kelp and the other man with him a heads-up that he was about to fire, the gunner let fly.
The missile left the tube with a blinding flash and whoosh. This was followed by the sound of the Dragon’s rocket and a series of pop-pop-popping sounds as the small guidance jets ignited, keeping the missile on track. The impact lit up the surrounding area and immediately ignited fires in the tank’s engine compartment.
“One down, one to go,” Sanders muttered as he began to head off in search of a new firing position from which he could take out the other tank.
The three of them were in the process of creeping up on the crippled tank when a lone figure stood up in front of Sanders at a distance of five meters and fired his AK into his chest. Without a second’s hesitation, Kelp leveled his submachine gun and cut down the lone figure. Both Kelp and the other infantryman, a private no older than Kelp by the name of McCauley, remained rooted to the spot as they waited to see if any other Russians popped up. Once they were satisfied that the Russian had been stray, the two knelt beside Sanders’ body.
In the darkness Kelp felt for his pulse, first on his wrist, then in his neck. There was none. “He’s dead.”
“How do you know?” asked McCauley.
“I know. He’s dead.” At nineteen, Kelp was fast becoming an expert on death. “Do you know how to work that thing?”
“Yeah. We had a class on it once. I think I can do it. But I’m not sure how we’re going to get around to the other tank. There may be more Russians.”
“You just get that thing there and follow ole Kelp here. I’ll get you to the Russians’ back door.”
With that, the two privates made their way through the dark.
The rattle of small arms fire from of the infantry’s firefight, the crash of artillery behind him, and the sharp crack of 55’s and 31’s main guns was unnerving to Uleski. It wasn’t easy to wait there in the dark, listening to the sounds of a battle all around him while watching a hundred trained soldiers whose sole intent was to kill you calmly advance on your position. Not that Uleski had any doubt about the outcome. Unless there were tanks in the far tree line, the infantry would be no match for the tanks and PCs with him. Uleski was simply getting impatient. Like everyone else in Team Yankee, he wanted to get on with it. Now.
The nausea and fear that had crippled him during the first battle were not present this time. Instead, a seething hatred welled up. As he watched the Soviet infantry advance ever closer to his small detachment’s position, he subconsciously took to pounding the fist of his good hand against the roof of the PC. The image of dead and wounded men scattered about 55 after the second attack on the first day flashed through his mind, fanning his hatred into an open rage. “Come on, you motherfuckers,” the XO softly muttered. “Come on and die.”
As eager as he was to engage the enemy to his front, Uleski watched and waited as the Russian company began to deploy into platoon columns, maintaining a nice steady walking pace as they came on. They were in no hurry to join the chaos in the woods on which they were advancing. It seemed to Uleski as he watched them these Russians would be just as happy if they arrived in time to help with the body count and not a minute sooner. There was definitely a lack of gung-ho spirit here.
Uleski had parked the PC he was on sideways in a depression near the tree line. One of the infantrymen who had been on the OP and the PC driver were standing up in the open cargo hatch next to him with their M-16s resting on the side of the PC. The PC commander had the caliber .50 pointed over the side, locked and loaded with several boxes of additional ammunition opened and ready at an arm’s distance. A loaded M-16 he’d gotten from Polgar lay on the roof of the PC lay next to Uleski’s good arm. When the time came, he had every intention of joining the killing.
The other PC with the second man from the OP was also ready, in position to the left of Uleski. Alpha 22 and 24 were deployed to the right of the PCs, ready to engage the infantry and any tanks as yet unseen that might suddenly emerge from the darkness and surprised them.
When the Russians were about two hundred meters from the PCs, Uleski gave the order to fire. Eight machineguns and four M-16s cut loose, unleashing a hail of tracers and lead that tore into the Russians while they were still in the process of deploying. For a moment most of them stood there transfixed, unable to comprehend what was happening to them. Uleski watched through his night vision goggles as some of the Russians first ran one way, then the other as if seeking someplace to hide before giving up and going to ground. Officers could be seen here and there doing all they could to rally their men and drive them on before they were cut down as the machineguns from the tanks and PC’s raked the area with steady, measured bursts of fire.
It didn’t take Uleski long to conclude that this was a green unit and tonight was its baptism by fire. A smile slowly crossed his face. “So be it,” he whispered quietly to himself as he picked up the M-16. “You shall be baptized in blood.” In the space of three days, Robert Uleski had made the journey from being good-natured Ski to a man who was a cold, hard killer.
As with the infantry firefight, once the Russians went to ground, an impasse seemed to settle in. The Russians stayed where they were while the PCs and tanks did their best to find and finish the prone figures off. Too impatient to allow this to continue, after emptying the magazine of the M-16, Uleski decided to break the deadlock by ordering Alpha 22 and 24 to move out and make a sweep of the area where the Russians were pinned. Hebrock protested that there could be tanks or antitank guided missile teams in the woods across the way. Uleski, however, was insistent. He wanted the Russians swept away and swept away now. Besides, he reasoned, if there had been tanks or antitank guided missiles in support of the attack, they would have fired by now.