Just as he finished his self-condemnation, the artillery began to impact to the front of the Soviet tanks. The FIST officer, Plesset, having seen the enemy turn south, adjusted the incoming artillery to where the enemy tanks were headed. He had wanted the artillery to impact directly on the tanks, but had misjudged the enemy’s speed and distance. This error caused the Soviets to turn east to avoid the artillery. Their rapid change of direction allowed them to escape the artillery, but drove them straight into the Team. The Soviets had either not seen Bannon’s tanks and thought their turning east would be safe or they had decided to take on the Team rather than the artillery.
Whatever the reason, the Team now had a chance to finish the job. Without further hesitation, Bannon ordered the tanks to fire at will before issuing his fire command as he laid 66’s gun on the lead tank coming out of their smoke screen.
“ENEMY TANKS TO THE FRONT!”
The Soviet tank company commander snapped his head to the front in response to his gunner’s yell. Stunned, he watched as a line of M-l tanks came charging down off the same hill his own company had come down from and toward him. It had been a trap. The Americans fooled me and now we are lost. As improbable as it seemed, that was the only way the Russian commander could explain it.
No matter now. There was no time for maneuver. The only thing left to do was fight it out with the American tanks head-to-head. With that thought in mind, he ordered his tanks to attack and began to direct his gunner to engage the lead American tank.
The scene was more like a medieval battle between knights than a clash between the most sophisticated tanks in the world. Like medieval knights, the two groups of tanks charged at each other with lowered lances. Team Yankee had the advantage of surprise and numbers, nine against five. The element of surprise allowed the Team to fire first. This first volley stopped three of the T-72s, blowing two of them up and crippling a third. The return fire from the Soviets claimed a 3rd Platoon tank.
By the time they were ready to fire again, the Team was right on top of the surviving Soviet tanks. Two of 3rd Platoon’s tanks drove past the crippled Soviet tank. The turrets of both US tanks stayed locked on the T-72 as they went by. When the two tanks fired on the Soviet at point-blank range, both rounds penetrated, causing the T-72 to shudder violently as internal explosions and sheets of flames blew open its hatches.
One of the last T-72s, about to be overwhelmed, just stopped. The shock of having so many targets so close was proving to be too much for the crew. With no more Soviet tanks that he could see that weren’t already aflame, Bannon watched in morbid fascination as the crew of that tank traverse its main gun to engage a tank, but then in the opposite direction to engage a tank that appeared to be a greater threat before suddenly traversing back toward its first target.
As he watched this bizarre spectacle play out, Bannon wondered why none of the Team’s tanks were firing on it. They had all slowed down by now so as not to bypass it. Most of the Team’s tanks had their guns trained on the hapless Soviet tank. Yet no one fired. Either they felt sorry for this lone survivor, or they were enjoying making the Russian crew suffer the agony of certain death. Whatever the reason, Bannon ordered Folk to fire. He and four other tank commanders had the same idea at the same instant, giving an effective and spectacular coup de grace to the last Russian tank.
Six kilometers to the east, on the other side of the hill, a Soviet tank battalion commander was in the middle of a raging fit. As the lead tank of his second company raced along the narrow trails to catch up with the company already engaged, it had thrown a track making a sharp turn. Now it was blocking the trail.
At first he was not worried. There appeared to be plenty of room for the other tanks of the battalion to bypass the disabled tank with ease. The fourth tank that tried to do so, however, also threw a track. Not only was the trail now hopelessly blocked, the Russian commander now had two fewer tanks with which to attack. As he was watching of the crews of the crippled tanks and a recovery vehicle struggle with the thrown tracks of the derelict tanks, nervously drumming his fingers on the receiver of his NSVT machinegun, the battalion political officer climbed on board his tank and up onto the turret next to him. Squatting down next to the battalion commander, he watched the efforts further up the trail in silence. The battalion commander tried to ignore the political officer, but found that was not possible. “The bastard,” he thought, “He’s come here to intimidate me. He’ll not succeed.”
Both were still waiting for the trail to be cleared when the lead company commander reported they were being engaged by American tanks. On hearing this, the political officer leaned over closer to the battalion commander. “Well, comrade, what are we going to do? Your attack seems to be failing.”
This was a threat, clear and simple. The political officer was telling the battalion commander that if he didn’t take action, he, the political officer, would. The commander did not hesitate. At least against the Americans he had a fighting chance. One had no chance with the KGB. Before dismounting, he ordered the three tanks that had already bypassed to continue forward and assist the lead company. Once his order was acknowledged, the battalion commander climbed out of his tank, dropped down onto the ground and made his way forward to personally to supervise the clearing of the trail. While there was nothing he could do to speed things up, at least the flailing of arms about and yelling might give the appearance he doing something. It was worth a try.
For a moment, Bannon drew a blank. The sight of smashed vehicles and the stench associated with burning tanks was becoming all too familiar. The fact that the battalion’s predicament was nowhere near what the plan had called for was not any different from other operations. It was the fact that he had no immediate superior to turn to for orders and assistance that threw him. On Hill 214 he had been alone, but at least he was still able to carry on with the order that had been issued. This was different. He had one company that appeared to have been wiped out and two companies that were facing the wrong way, watching the fourth company mill about waiting for him, their surrogate commander, to pull his head out and give them some orders. No sooner had the thought Why me? flashed through his mind than the answer followed Because you’re it. For the moment there was no one else, and if he didn’t start doing something fast to get the goat screw he found himself in the middle of squared away, the next wave of Russians would finish them.
With time being critical, he contacted Uleski and ordered him to rally the Team’s tanks and stand by for orders. Next he instructed Team Bravo to redeploy his team in an arch facing north. The Delta Company commander was ordered to rally his unit, sweep the battlefield to clear it of any Soviet survivors, and provide whatever help they could to Charlie Company’s survivors.
With the line companies well in hand, Bannon contacted the battalion S-3 Air, a young captain back at the battalion’s main CP and instructed him to report the battalion’s current location, its status, and the fact that it was halted to brigade. Additionally, brigade was to be informed that he had assumed command and would contact the brigade commander on its command net as soon as he was able to. With that, Bannon switched back to the Team’s command net and informed Uleski that until further notice, he would command Team Yankee.