On his way back, Bannon walked from track to track, greeting each crew as they prepared for breakfast and another day on the border. He made some corrections, a few comments, listened to a complaint or two, and generally let himself be seen. Only around the 31 tank was his presence greeted with a proper but chilled reception. The other crew members of 31 were in a depressed mood, for they, like Pierson, did not want to be defeated by the loss of their lieutenant. But they were far less sanguine than Pierson about fighting for his retention. The crew knew that if Garger screwed up in combat they would be the first to pay for it. Unlike a dismounted infantry squad where every man can go off on his own if something gets screwed up, a tank crew is a joint venture where one's fate is welded to the actions of the other crew members. The sixty-one tons of steel that enclose them silently bind their collective fates together. So there is a strong self-serving motivation that causes tankers to work together and ensures that each member of the crew can perform his job. Pride was running a distant second to survival for most of the 31 crew.
Uleski, the tank crews of the two headquarters tank and the ITV crews were either washing and shaving or squaring away their tracks by the time Bannon finished his morning rounds.
The ITV that had been at the edge of the tree line had pulled back into its hide position and was camouflaged. Uleski was squatting next to the PC, stripped down to his waist, washing himself from a small pan of water. Looking up as Bannon approached, he grinned, "I knew you would be back by stand-to. I just didn't know what day. Do you have a murder to report and an emergency requisition for a second lieutenant platoon leader to submit?"
"Come on, U, I'm a nice guy. Do you for one moment think that I would bring any harm to that poor young man over in 3rd Platoon? I mean, do I look like a mean person?"
Standing up and squinting his eyes as he looked Bannon over, he replied, "Oh, sorry. I thought you were my CO, the one who isn't worth a damn in the morning until he's eaten a second lieutenant."
"Yeah, it's me alright. Only this morning a second lieutenant wasn't enough. Now I'm looking for a first lieutenant for dessert." Uleski looked to his left, then to his right, using exaggerated movements, then turned back to face Bannon. "Ain't seen any o'them 'round here. Y'all might try over in yonder hill cuntree," pointing east to the border. With the second round of poor humor decided in Uleski's favor, the Team commander and XO got down to the morning's business while Uleski finished washing and Bannon dug his shaving gear out and prepared to wash up. Uleski had a long day ahead and Bannon wanted him to get started. There were maintenance problems that needed attention, and spare parts that had to be requested, borrowed, or scrounged. The laundry point needed to be located and arrangements made to turn in the company's laundry. Batteries for field phones and wire to replace some which had been torn out by a cavalry track that had wandered into the Team's area had to be found.
These and many small but important tasks were required to keep the Team in business.
Once the first sergeant came up to the position with breakfast, he and Uleski would divide up the list of tasks between them and go about the day's duties.
The Team wasn't in bad shape. The last tank that had fallen out of the line of march during the movement to the border had finally closed in yesterday afternoon, giving Team Yankee a total of ten tanks, five M I 13s, and two ITVs. Two of the tanks had problems with their fire control system but nothing that would take more than another day to repair. In fact, the vehicles were in better shape than the people were.
Not that they were falling apart. However, life in the field wears away at soldiers unless simple creature comforts such as food, clean dry clothes, and other such necessaries are provided. Added to the problems of living in the field, the tension caused by the alert and move to the border, followed by the flurry of almost panicked activity during the first twenty-four hours in position, followed by three days of waiting and there is potential for a disaster. This was made worse by the lack of solid news from the outside world and the concerns of the married personnel, including Bannon himself, about the evacuation of the dependents back to the States. To top it off, many of the men had not brought extra fatigues and some hadn't even brought a change of underwear.
After three days of hot weather and hard work, the company was getting funky.
Efforts to secure reliable news from the outside world had failed. The rear areas were in a state of panic as German civilians ignored their government's call to stay in place and instead took to the roads leading west. The Office of Public Information, in a less than brilliant move, had taken the Armed Forces Network off the air. Censorship of the BBC and German radio only told the men in Team Yankee that NATO forces were mobilizing and deploying, something they already knew, and negotiations between NATO and Warsaw Pact representatives were still going on at a secret location. So the men were in the dark, not knowing much more than what was going on within their platoon position and unable to find out from anyone whether they were going to go home tomorrow or be part of the first act of World War III. The longer this situation lasted, the more it tended to erode the men's morale. While there was nothing that Bannon could do about news or settling the dispute that started the whole thing, he and the rest of the Team's leadership could do something about the physical well-being of the men. The first sergeant, Raymond Harrert, had found a gasthaus where the men could wash up and rinse out some underwear. A schedule and transportation had been set up to rotate everyone through the first sergeant's comfort station, now being run by the company supply sergeant. The battalion had switched from dehydrated field rations that came in little brown bags, called MREs, to two hot meals a day, breakfast and dinner, and only one meal of MREs. A work and training schedule, which would allow the Team to improve positions, work out any last-minute crew coordination problems, and rest the men, had been instituted. In effect, the leadership was keeping the men as busy as possible doing constructive things without wearing them out. This kept their minds off the grim situation they were facing while preparing them to meet it. It was all that could be done. Just as Bannon finished washing up, the first sergeant arrived with breakfast.
His arrival at the headquarters position meant that the rest of the Team had finished breakfast, as headquarters tanks and ITVs were always the last to eat. When the men on the position had been served, Harrert, Uleski, and Bannon served each other breakfast.
Standing around the hood of Harrert's jeep, they ate their cold powdered eggs, rubbery bacon strips, and soggy toast as they listened to the latest news the first sergeant had from the rear.
Most of Harrert's news was bad. The evacuation of dependents, which had started only yesterday, was going slowly. German military and civilian police had set up checkpoints to stem the flow of refugees and clear roads. The opposite was happening as monumental traffic jams became worse. Newspapers were scarce and none were making it farther forward than Division rear. Nor was the delivery of mail straight yet. Finally, there were no batteries or WD-1 wire to be found anywhere in the brigade.
The good news was limited but welcome. Harrert had located a quartermaster field laundry.
The men would be able to exchange underwear. Uleski commented that the Environmental Protection Agency would be glad. The maintenance contact team working for the Team had located a new laser range finder for the 23 tank and would be up to install it that morning.