"No, no. Close, but a no-go. How about radio listening silence? You remember our discussion on that subject yesterday morning?"
"Yes, sir."
"THEN WHY IN THE HELL DID YOU BREAK RADIO LISTENING SILENCE AGAIN TODAY? ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID OR JUST SOFT IN THE HEAD?" While waiting for his answer, Bannon did his best to pull himself back and calm down. He had a tendency to become excited and abusive. He had told himself time and again that it wouldn't do to get this cranked up; he had to be calm and logical. But habits are hard to break, especially so early in the morning. There would, no doubt, be plenty more reasons for getting excited later today.
Falteringly, Garger replied, "No, sir. I just wanted to make sure the radios worked since we changed frequencies and all."
With his composure regained, Bannon continued, "Did your radio work yesterday before I chewed your ass out for breaking radio listening silence?" "Yes, sir."
"And did your radio work the day before yesterday just before I chewed your ass out for breaking radio listening silence?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then why did you do it again? I mean, by now even you should be able to figure out that, a, your radio works every time you use it and b, every time you use it I am going to come down and jump in your shit. Do you understand what I'm telling you, I mean, do you really understand?"
"Yes, sir, I do, it's just that, well, I…"
"One more time, I swear, one more time…"
Without finishing or waiting for a response, Bannon slid himself back off the turret and climbed down the same way he had come up. To stay any longer would not do him or his nervous system any good. If the point hadn't been made by now, it never would be.
Bannon hadn't walked ten meters from the 31 tank when Pierson's low, firm voice startled him. "This is starting to be a regular routine, isn't it, Captain Bannon? I'm going to start setting my watch by you." Bannon stopped, turned toward Pierson's figure, and leaned against a tree for support. He still hadn't calmed down from his discussion with Garger and Pierson's sudden appearance had scared the hell out of him. As he collected his wits, he thought to himself, "The sun isn't even up and it is building up to be a real peachy day." Looking at the dark figure approaching him, he asked, "Are you looking to give me a heart attack or is this some type of leadership reaction course?"
"No, sir, I just wanted to come over and save our favorite lieutenant before the wolves got him. But from the roar, I figured I was too late so I decided to wait for you here."
"You know, I could charge you with attempted murder."
"You wouldn't do that, Captain. Then, who would you find to whip this collection of derelicts and criminals you call a tank platoon into shape?" "You're right, Sergeant Pierson. No sane man would take the job. I guess I'll have to keep you. But I'm not too sure about your lieutenant. After stand-to and breakfast I'm going to talk to the Old Man about pulling Garger out. If I give you Williams as a loader do you have a gunner who can take over the 31 tank and a loader that can move into a gunner's seat?" "Sergeant Pauly could handle the tank and I have a couple of loaders who are ready to gun. But do you want to start screwing around with crews at this late stage? I mean, the lieutenant may not have all his stuff together yet but given a little more time, I'm sure he'll catch on. You know how it was your first time out."
"Yes, Sergeant Pierson, I know what it was like. I really wasn't much better than Garger. But this is different. When I screwed up as a young platoon leader the worst I got was an ass chewing from the CO, a lot of smirks from the men in the platoon, and a sick feeling in my stomach. If the balloon goes up in the next couple of days and Garger blows it, he not only stands a damn good chance of losing his own behind and his crew's, but a failure on his part could cost me the whole platoon and more. I feel sorry for the kid and I wish I could do more for him. But I have a whole company to look out for and I'm not going to take any chances that I don't have to."
Bannon and Pierson stood for a minute and stared at each other, neither of them able to see the other's facial expression. Both knew that what the other said was right, to a degree.
Pierson hated to admit defeat, the defeat of not being able to train his new lieutenant.
Bannon felt the same. But they also knew that there simply was no time left, that they had to deal with bigger issues than pride. Garger might do well once the shooting started. There was no way to tell. Bannon didn't want to take the chance. His mind was set. If he could swing it, Garger would go. The two men exchanged a few more remarks, mostly about the condition of the platoon's vehicles, plans to improve the positions, and the training that needed to be done that day. Then they parted, Bannon proceeding around the hill to the Mech Platoon while Pierson started rousing his platoon for stand-to. The war, or at least the preparations for war, went on.
By the time Bannon had worked his way down to the walled farm and to the dismounted element of the Mech Platoon's positions, it was getting light. Not that you could see the sun.
In fact, the rising fog made it almost impossible to see anything beyond twenty meters. The Mech Platoon, led by 2nd Lt. William Harding, was already moving into its position and preparing for stand-to.
Bannon decided to stay with them until after stand-to. This platoon was good. They had an unusually good combination of platoon leader, platoon sergeant, and squad leaders.
Harding and the platoon sergeant, a SFC Leslie Polgar, had been together for almost a year and they complemented each other. Harding did the thinking, gave the orders, and led the platoon while Polgar led the training and did the motivating and the ass kicking, which to Polgar were all one and the same.
It was easy to see that the soldiers were well trained and confident in themselves, their weapons, and their leaders, Bannon thought as he watched them. The men moved into their positions with hardly a word, checked their weapons, situated themselves to cover their assigned areas, ready for the enemy or stand down, whichever came first. By the time Bannon had arrived at the farm, Harding had already sent a squad into the village to establish a listening post, or LP. The men manning the LP had taken two Dragons with them. Harding kept his other two Dragons with the mounted element. As he leaned against the farmhouse wall, looking out of the window across from Harding, Bannon kept thinking how worthless he would be here if the other people came boiling out of the fog. Without his sixty-one-ton tank wrapped around him, he wouldn't be much good to anyone in a fire fight armed only with a .45 pistol that was probably older than he was. Not that the .45 was a bad weapon. It's just that in a real fire fight Bannon wanted to have the ability to reach out and touch someone.
Hand-to-hand combat, eyeball-toeyeball brawls with the enemy might make great war movies, but it simply wasn't his idea of doing business. At the first opportunity, he resolved to secure himself an Ml6 rifle. It might be a pain to carry around, but an M 16 provides its owner with a much greater sense of security when he is fumbling around in the dark alone.
By 0500 it was as light as it was going to get and there were no Russians, or anyone else for that matter, in sight. Bannon told Harding to maintain the squad in the village until the fog lifted and to stand down the rest of his platoon. He also reminded Harding of the 0730 platoon leaders' meeting and the weapons inspection for the Mech Platoon at 0900 hours. Bannon knew that by the time he returned to the platoon all weapons would have been checked for cleanliness, functioning, headspace, and timing by either Harding or the platoon sergeant or both. But it was part of the routine that had been established, and it gave him a chance to learn more about the men in the platoon and a chance for them to see him. It was important that the attached units know that their commander had high standards when it came to important items like weapons, positions, camouflage, and all those things that separated the quick from the dead.