He cautioned his wingman to watch out for them. There was only two hundred meters between the U.S. and the Soviet tanks. This was truly close air support.
By the time Bannon arrived on the scene it was all over. Coming up next to 55 from behind, he stopped and surveyed the open area. There were at least fifteen T-72s burning to the front. Looking down the tree line he could see that one of the 3rd Platoon tanks was also burning. After making sure that the Soviets had really broken off the attack, Bannon dismounted and ran over to 55. Uleski was just getting over the shock of having been in such a near thing. One Soviet tank had managed to reach a point less than fifty meters from 55. He quickly pulled himself together and reported what had happened and the status of the Team. Satisfied that Uleski had the situation well in hand and that the Soviets wouldn't be coming back this way, Bannon reported to Major Jordan and cancelled the order for 2nd Platoon to come up. As he waited for new orders, 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 and had lost three tanks. The mission of the battalion had been changed, and instead of being the lead battalion in the attack, it was now defending the flanks. It was shaping up to be a hell of a day.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"They Came, in the Same Old Way."
The Team sat 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 been a surprise. The tracer elements in the main gun and machine-gun rounds, aided by burning tanks, were more than enough to set the dry foliage aflame. In high-tech fighting machines it is easy to forget that each action and activity affected everything it touched, manmade and natural. Wrapped in a million-dollar tank, it's easy to forget the natural laws that drive the universe.
At first no one noticed the burning trees and shrubbery. Fire had become a common sight after an engagement. Slowly, however, the fire began to grow, as ruptured fuel cells spread their burning contents. Flames from the two tanks that Polgar's men had destroyed in the first engagement ignited the tree branches that hung over them. In a surprisingly short period, the 3rd Platoon found itself between two growing fires.
Bannon stood upright in the cupola and surveyed the growing fire to the rear. Uleski, who had been keeping a watch to the front, saw his commander and turned to see what he was studying so intently. 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 THINKING7-OVER." Turning toward 55 and facing the XO, Bannon simply nodded his head yes.
The flames continued to spread. There had not been any appreciable rain for weeks, making the trees and undergrowth grade-A kindling. Knowing the Team had no choice and not bothering to call battalion or explain why, Bannon ordered the 3rd Platoon and the Mech to pack up and move out. Like Uleski, Gerry Garger turned to his rear and immediately realized what was happening.
The move was going to be hazardous. To start, the two platoons could not back away from the tree line into the woods before turning around. The fire had spread too far for that.
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 through the trees back to the valley. Movement therefore was not only going to be slow, it was going to be potentially dangerous: One error by a driver or TC could cause a tank to lose its track. The crew of 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 Mech Platoon to move on its own to a rally point where the 2nd Platoon was already sitting in reserve.
Uleski and 66 sat overwatching the move of the 3rd Platoon as they began to 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 had his eye glued to his sight as he slowly traversed the turret watching 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. Tank 66 stayed in place for another minute, watching the far tree line, then joined the withdrawal behind 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. He did not like the idea of being caught in the middle of a forest fire in a tank loaded with ammunition and diesel. He really didn't know what would happen if the forest fire engulfed the tank. No one did. That wasn't something they taught you at Fort Knox. He had no intention, however, of finding out. Sticking one's ass out to fight the Russians was one thing. He knew the odds then and could do something about it. Letting yourself get overrun by a forest fire was something else. It was an unnecessary risk that Garger was glad they were going to avoid, provided the tanks reached the valley before the fire reached them.
As 31 crept along, Garger leaned over, watching as the driver carefully picked his way through the woods. Tank 31 was following in the 32 tank's path. As the lead tank, 32 had the task of blazing the trail. The most difficult part for 31's crew was to maintain their calm and not crowd 32. This was easier said than done. When he wasn't watching the drive, Garger was glancing between the approaching fire and 32. He had to restrain himself from egging 32 on over the radio. That would serve no useful purpose other than to make the rest of the platoon more nervous. So he held his tongue and kept watching as 32 plodded ahead 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. The drivers were running at a good pace, weaving between the trees like skiers dashing between poles in a downhill race. 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 the M-113s disappeared to the front of the column.
Some say leadership is the art of motivating men to accomplish a mission or do something that they might not otherwise do. That sounds great in a textbook. As 66 slowly inched along behind 55 in an effort to escape the spreading forest fire, 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.
To take his mind off 66's dilemma, he switched the radio to the battalion net and called Major Jordan in order to inform him of the Team's move. Not surprisingly, instead of contacting the major himself, Bannon found himself conversing with a slow-talking radiotelephone operator who answered for the major. Getting an RTO is like getting a new secretary for a major corporation. You know that your message is going to be screwed up even if it finds its way to the right person. His conversation with the major's RTO was a case in point.
First, the man didn't know the proper call signs, insisting that Bannon identify himself fully before letting him proceed with the message. Once he accepted the fact that Bannon really did belong on the battalion net, he couldn't find the major. He had no idea where the major had gone but said that he would take a message and pass it on. Next, Bannon had to repeat the message twice before the RTO got it down. It was no big message. All he had to do was tell the major that a forest fire had forced Team Yankee to move and that the Team was now en route to the 2nd Platoon's location. Simple.