By the time Bannon arrived on the scene, it was all over.
Pulling up behind Alpha 55, he had Kelp stop. Just past 55, to his front, he could see at least a number of T-72s burning. A quick glance to his left and right told him on of 3rd Platoon tanks had been hit. Dismounting, Bannon made his way over to 55 where he found Uleski, who was just getting over the shock of having been in such a near thing, working up a report for battalion.
As he was waiting for his XO to finish what he was doing, Bannon took another look around. One of Soviet tanks, he saw, had managed to reach a point less than fifty meters from 55. After a quick update from Uleski, and satisfied the situation well in hand, Bannon told him to contact Major Jordan and have him stand 2nd Platoon down, that they wouldn’t needed by Team Yankee, at least not at the moment.
With nothing more to do at the moment, Bannon made his way back to 66 and waited for battalion to finish sorting itself out and issue new orders. In the meantime, he went over the morning’s events in his mind. It wasn’t even noon and already the Team had been in four different engagements that had cost it three tanks. “All in all,” Bannon muttered to himself, “this is shaping up to be a hell of a day.”
CHAPTER 12
“THEY CAME IN THE SAME OLD WAY”
The Team spent what was left of the morning in its positions, collectively catching its breath and awaiting orders. Slowly, almost unnoticed, a new and unexpected enemy made its appearance, a forest fire. That it happened should not have come as a surprise to anyone. The tracer elements that are part of the main gun and machine-gun rounds, burning vehicles, and flammable liquids leaking from ruptured fuel tanks provided ample ignition sources, the dry, summer foliage, the kindling. Ensconced in a high tech, million-dollar tank, it is easy for soldiers to forget just how much their action and activity affected everything it touched, manmade and natural.
At first no one noticed the burning trees and shrubbery. Fire had become a common sight by now. Only slowly, as the fire in the woods Team Yankee was deployed in began to grow and spread did anyone pay any attention to it. Its epicenter, as best as anyone could tell, was around the tanks that Polgar’s men had destroyed in the first engagement. Puddles of fuel, ignited by burning rubber and other onboard consumables set the tree branches hanging over them alight.
Eventually Bannon became aware of the new threat coming from the east. Standing upright in Alpha 66’s cupola, he began to study the growing fire. When Uleski, who had been checking the headspace and timing of his M-2 saw his commander warily eyeing the tree line across the small clearing from them, he turned to see what he was looking at. With a single glance, he understood Bannon’s concerns. Without using call signs or names, Uleski came up on the Team net, “YOU THINKING WHAT I’M THINKING? OVER.”
Looking over at his XO who was seated on top of Alpha 55’s turret with his feet dangling through the open hatch of the TC’s cupola, Bannon simply nodded before turning his gaze back at the growing forest fire.
After weeks with no appreciable rainfall, the trees and undergrowth was grade — A kindling. Knowing the Team had no choice but to move and move soon, without bothering to call battalion to explain why, Bannon ordered the 3rd Platoon and the Mech get out of the woods. Neither Garger nor Polgar, both of whom had been watching the forest fire as it crept closer and closer to their positions, needed to ask for an explanation.
The move was going to be hazardous. To start, the two platoons could not back away from the tree line and into the woods before turning around. The rapidly spreading fire had, by then, begun to circle around behind them. Instead, they were going to have to move forward into the open and turn, flanking themselves to any enemy force that might still be to their front. Once clear of that hazard, the tracks had to pick their way slowly along the trail leading back to the valley. This would not only slow the Team’s displacement, it would be dangerous. One error by a driver or TC could cause a tank to lose its track, blocking the Team’s escape route in the same way the Soviet tank battalion had had to deal with. The crew of Alpha 66 already knew about that danger. At the rate the fire was moving, a tank would have little chance of being recovered if it lost a track.
No attempt was made to establish an orderly withdrawal. Bannon ordered the platoons to move on their own using the 2nd Platoon, which was still acting as the battalion’s reserve, as a rally point. Uleski in Alpha 55 and Bannon in 66 sat overwatching the Mech, then the 3rd Platoon as they began their move. The air, already oppressively hot from the fire and thick with choking smoke from burning wood, diesel, rubber, and flesh, was filled with tension as the first of the 3rd Platoon tanks rolled into the open. Folk, with his eye glued to his sight as he slowly traversed the turret, watched for any hint of movement from the far side of the clearing. Once Bannon was satisfied that there was no one on the other side who would do anything to his command, he signaled Uleski to begin his move. Alpha 66 stayed in place for another minute, watching the far tree line, before following 55.
The movement through the woods was agonizingly slow for Garger. Even though the platoon had moved forward into positions by creeping along between trees as they were now, it had taken less time, or so it seemed. The idea of being in a tank loaded with ammunition and diesel, surrounded on all sides by a raging forest fire, did not appeal to him. There wasn’t a block of instruction taught at Fort Knox that covered what to do in such a situation. Sticking one’s ass out to fight the Russians was one thing. Letting yourself get overrun by a forest fire was something else entirely. It was an experience Garger had no wish to embrace.
Following Alpha 32, Garger leaned as far forward as he dared, watching as its crew carefully picked their way through the woods. As the lead tank, 32 had the task of blazing the trail. The most difficult part for 31’s crew was to maintain their distance and not crowd 32. This was easier said than done. When he wasn’t watching where they were going, Garger was glancing between the approaching fire and 32. He had to restrain himself from egging 32 on over the radio. Haranguing SSG Blackfoot would serve no useful purpose other than to add to the growing apprehensions everyone in the platoon was feeling. So he held his tongue as he continued to watch 32 plodded along at an unnerving three miles an hour.
The whine of M-113s to his right momentarily diverted his attention. The smaller and more agile tracks of the Mech Platoon were making better time. Their drivers were running at a good pace, weaving between the trees like skiers dashing between poles in a downhill slalom. When Polgar went by, he waved to Garger. The lieutenant returned the wave, then pointed at the approaching fire. Polgar acknowledged the lieutenant’s problem with a nod and a thumbs up before his PC disappeared from sight, leaving Garger to wish, for the first time since the war had begun, that he was in an M-113 rather than a tank.
Some say leadership is the art of motivating men to do something that they might not otherwise do. That sounds great in a textbook. As Alpha 66 slowly inched along behind 55 in an effort to escape the forest that was coming on fast, Bannon came up with a few new definitions of leadership. The one that appeared to be most appropriate at that particular moment was something along the lines that a leader was the first man in the unit to put his buns out on the line, and the last to pull them in. As 66 continued its maddeningly slow move through the woods, he wondered if those buns weren’t going to get overdone this time.