McAlister contacted the FIST Team. Using a known target reference point to shift from, he provided Unger with the location of the target and what the target was. Bannon cut into the conversation and instructed Unger to fire at least three volleys of artillery with mixed fuze settings of superquick and delayed. The superquick fuze setting would go off as soon as the round hit the tree branches, creating an air burst effect and showering shell fragments down on exposed personnel. The delayed fuze setting would burrow into the ground, hopefully getting anyone in foxholes. The FIST replied that he would try. Bannon told him to try hard.
The call for fire took close to five minutes to process. At this hour, it was not surprising.
Everyone waited impatiently, hoping that the Russians didn't leave before the artillery hit. It was almost as if they were preparing to spring a prank on another fraternity. They knew it was coming and the other people didn't. But this prank was deadly. In a very few moments, some of the other "fraternity" brothers would be dead. The more, the better. Maybe they wouldn't come back.
To the rear of Team Yankee the low rumble of the firing guns could be heard as the FIST called, "SHOT-OVER" on the Team net. McAlister replied, "SHOT-OUT." Unger's call of "SPLASH-OVER" was drowned out by the detonation of the impacting rounds.
In an excited, high-pitched voice, McAlister called, "TARGET-FIRE FOR EFFECT-TARGET-FIRE FOR EFFECT." In the excitement of the moment, he forgot that they were, in fact, firing for effect. From 66, Bannon could see the impact through the trees.
He wanted to move forward to observe but knew that would serve little purpose and unnecessarily expose 66. So he sat where he was, having to content his morbid curiosity by listening to McAlister's reports.
The guns to the rear boomed again, followed by another series of impacts. The rounds with superquick fuze settings burst high in the trees with a brilliant orange ball of fire. For a split second, it lit the surrounding trees and area like a small sun. Then it died as fast as it had appeared. Anyone staring at the blast lost his night vision. In the place of clear images there was only the fading afterimage of the bright orange blasts engraved in their eyes. The final volley was no less spectacular.
As Bannon waited for the results, he began to hope that the results would be worth the efforts of the artillery. More was involved than merely the act of making the calculations, preparing the rounds, laying the guns, and shooting twentyfour rounds. The firing battery now had to displace rapidly. If the Russians were alert, their target acquisition people would have picked up the flight of these incoming rounds. With some calculations of their own, they would be able to locate the guns and fire counter-battery fires. It was therefore important for the artillery to keep moving. Shoot'n scoot was a popular way of putting it. In modern combat you're either quick or you're dead. There is no middle ground.
After observing the area for ten minutes, McAlister reported that neither he nor any other tank in his platoon could detect any more movement in the target area or to the left or right.
Bannon therefore reported to battalion that they had engaged and probably killed eight dismounted personnel. Whatever those people had been doing or planning to do, they weren't going to do it to Team Yankee this morning. The efforts of the cannon cockers were rewarded.
The Soviets were also placing demands on their artillerymen early that morning. The American guns barely had fallen silent when the sky to the east was lit up with distant flashes, followed by the now familiar rumble of enemy artillery. At first, Bannon thought that it was counterbattery fire searching out the guns that had just fired for the Team. But the distant crash of the impacting rounds drifted down from the north, not from the rear. After watching and listening to the barrage for five minutes and unable to detect any sign of letup, it became obvious that this was more than counterbattery fire. In all likelihood, it was the preparatory fire for the attack of the 28th Guards Tank Division.
The night slowly gave way to the new dawn as the Soviet artillery preparation to the north continued. First Sergeant Harrert appeared with breakfast, passing the word to the track commanders to send half of their men at a time back for chow. At first Bannon was apprehensive about allowing the men to dismount for breakfast. He was fearful that the enemy would launch another holding attack against them as they had yesterday. If not a ground attack, he at least expected the Soviets to pin the battalion down with artillery. But nothing happened. Perhaps the Soviets didn't have any more units they could throw away in useless holding attacks. Perhaps the people the Team had hit with artillery across the valley were antitank guided missile teams or artillery forward observers who had the mission of pinning the battalion. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. As the platoon leaders began to gather for the early morning meeting, he gave up on the second guessing. No one was shooting at him or the Team right now and that was all that mattered.
The leadership of Team Yankee gathered around the rear of the first sergeant's PC, map case and notebook tucked under arm, breakfast and coffee in hand as they had done just twenty-four hours earlier. But this morning there was a difference. The nervous apprehension of yesterday was gone. There was a slightly haggard and disheveled look from too little sleep and too much stress. That was to be expected. Today, however, there was also a look of confidence on everyone's face, a calm, steady look. In the words of
Civil War veterans, they had seen the elephant and had changed forever. It didn't matter that they had been incredibly lucky, that the task had been simple and straightforward. It didn't matter that the new mission was going to turn the tables around and expose the Team to the same punishment that it had given to the Soviets. What did matter was that they had won their first battle and any doubts as to equipment, leadership, and each individual's perceived ability to face combat had been temporarily put aside. The Team was ready to move forward and tackle its new mission. The meeting started with a discussion of the previous day's action. Just as they had done numerous times after a training exercise, the leaders went over step by step what had happened. First the platoon leaders gave their account and observations. Then Bannon gave his. They briefly discussed what needed to be done better the next time. With that aside, Bannon issued the completed Team operations order that he had worked on earlier that morning. After he finished, Unger went over the fire-support plan in detail and answered any questions. Finished with that, Bannon informed the platoon leaders that he would visit each of them for a one-on-one brief back of their platoon plans. In the meantime, they were to prepare for the attack.
As he prepared to turn the meeting over to the XO and first sergeant so that they could cover the Team's admin and maintenance chores, a call from battalion put an end to his plan to catch up on some sleep. There was going to be a meeting in thirty minutes at the battalion CP to go over the new mission. Not wanting to move 66 out of position, he decided to use Harrert's PC. While the platoon leaders moved and the PC prepared to roll, Bannon quickly shaved and washed his hands and face. Cleaning up was going to make him late, but it was a matter of pride that he look as sharp as possible. He might be miserable, but he didn't have to look miserable. Standards had to be preserved.