“No, sir,” the captain responded.
Bijan nodded. “Excellent. I have one change to those orders we need to communicate to your troops before we begin.”
The captain looked even more nervous as he carefully asked, “Sir?”
Bijan smiled. “The obsolete tanks you have rigged as targets for your artillery can be moved remotely, correct?”
Now the captain appeared close to a stroke. “Yes, sir. But as you know, the Basir artillery round requires a laser designator for an accurate strike. We have men in the exercise area targeting the tanks now. If we begin moving the tanks, we risk hitting the men.”
Bijan nodded. “In that case, Captain, I suggest you move the tanks away from your men rather than towards them.”
The captain paused and then wisely swallowed his objections, which Bijan knew would have included the finite range of the laser designators, and simply said, “Yes, sir.”
A few minutes later, the new orders had been transmitted and the captain said, “Ready, sir.”
In spite of himself, Bijan was impressed. It was obvious the unit had practiced using the Basir artillery round on a moving target before. Bijan had been told this was Iran’s best artillery regiment, and now felt his hope rising that its reputation might be justified.
Well, let’s see if they can actually hit the moving targets before we celebrate, Bijan thought.
Aloud, he said, “Proceed, Captain.”
Ten HM-41 155 mm howitzers fired simultaneously at the ten moving tanks. Both the howitzers and the Basir artillery round had been developed and manufactured in Iran. While the HM-41 howitzer had been reverse engineered from the American M114, the Basir was an Iranian product from start to finish, and made Iran one of only five countries in the world with a laser-guided artillery shell.
Bijan and Dabiri were about five kilometers away from the targets, and half a kilometer away from the HM-41 howitzers. They were protected from the noise with earplugs, but they could still feel the vibration of the howitzers’ firing in their bones. Both had binoculars trained on the distant forms of the moving tanks, which very quickly stopped moving as each was hit.
Bijan was surprised to see multiple secondary explosions, and then quickly chided himself. The tanks may not have carried ammunition, but to move they had to contain fuel.
Dabiri rapidly swapped his earplugs for a headset, and called for a report.
Bijan was not so quick to remove his earplugs, and so missed the first part of an exchange between Dabiri and one of the spotters, but knew better than to interrupt before he was ready. Bijan had been in Dabiri’s position before, and had always detested officers who interrupted his efforts to get the information needed to report by demanding answers before he could possibly have them.
After a few minutes Bijan could tell from the newly relaxed slump of Dabiri’s shoulders that the news was, if not good, at least not disastrous.
Dabiri drew himself up and saluted. “Ready to report, sir.”
Bijan’s eyebrows rose. Was the news really that good?
“All targets destroyed. One spotter was lightly injured by shrapnel, but will not require hospitalization.”
Bijan smiled. “Excellent, Captain. Shall we have a look?”
Both climbed into the nearby Safir 4x4 transport vehicle. Externally a close visual match to the WWII American Jeep it was Iranian made, except for a 105 horsepower Nissan engine which gave it nearly twice as much power as the original Jeep. It came in multiple configurations, including ones mounting everything from twelve 107 mm rocket tubes to anti-tank missiles. This one was outfitted as a command vehicle, with nothing onboard more lethal than multiple radios.
They pulled up first next to another Safir with a Red Crescent insignia marking it as used for medical transport, where they saw a medic packing up next to a bandaged noncommissioned officer. As soon as the soldier saw them he began to stand, but Dabiri quickly waved him back down.
“Report,” Dabiri said calmly.
The NCO looked at Bijan’s rank insignia and his eyes widened, but to Bijan’s approval made no comment.
Instead, the NCO said, “My laser designator worked with no issues. Even though the target was moving, I had no trouble keeping it illuminated. I admit that I moved a little closer when I realized the target was moving away from me to avoid losing contact.”
The NCO paused and looked at his bandages. “I didn’t anticipate the force of the secondary explosion. In my only previous exercise with these rounds the targets were stationary, and hadn’t been fueled. Not an excuse, sir. Glad I’m alive to have learned the lesson.”
Dabiri smiled. “That’s the right attitude, soldier. I’m told your injuries aren’t serious, and you don’t need time in hospital. Do you agree?”
The NCO nodded. “It was just a few stitches and some scrapes. I’ve done worse as a child falling off a bicycle. If I hadn’t been hugging the ground it could have been more serious. I could feel things passing right over my head.
If there had been ammo in that tank I don’t think I’d be here talking to you.”
Bijan glanced at Dabiri, who nodded. It was just a courtesy, but Bijan knew from his own experience it mattered.
Bijan asked, “Do you think you were the only one to move closer when you saw the targets were moving?”
The NCO hesitated. “As far as I saw, yes. I have to be honest, though, and say my attention was focused on the target in front of me.”
Bijan nodded and turned towards Dabiri. “Let’s take a closer look at what’s left of your targets.”
At that the NCO looked visibly uncomfortable, and looked up at Dabiri.
“Yes, soldier?” Dabiri asked quietly.
“Well, Captain,” the NCO replied, “I would keep a respectful distance as you travel around the exercise area. I think some of these targets are still cooking, and I wouldn’t want to be around when they’re ready to serve.”
Now both Bijan and Dabiri laughed. Bijan said, “Well said. I think we can chalk this up as a lesson well and truly learned.”
As they drove around the smoking hulks of the destroyed targets, Bijan silently counted to himself until reaching ten, and nodded with satisfaction.
He doubted Dabiri would have tried to claim unearned kills, but he had seen it happen before in exercises.
Both of them started involuntarily as one of the targets erupted in a new explosion, fortunately on the other side of the exercise area.
Bijan grunted. “Your soldier was right. Apparently it takes time for fire to reach the gas tank in some of your targets. Squinting he asked, “Are these all T-54s, or are some T-55s?”.
Dabiri smiled. “Good eye, Colonel, particularly considering the damage the targets have taken. Seven T-54s, and three T-55s. It took some work to get these mobile again.”
Bijan snorted in amusement. He didn’t doubt it considering the age of the tanks, which he guessed at over fifty years old.
“Obviously we’re not going to use our best tanks for target practice. Based on the damage you see here, do you think the Basir will kill more modern tanks?”
Dabiri nodded vigorously. “Absolutely, sir. Top armor is the weak point of every tank, new or old. No tank ever built is going to survive a 155 mm round dropped on top of it. The only question is whether we can deliver that round on target. Frankly, I’m not sure how easy it will be to shine a laser designator on a tank without being spotted.”
Bijan nodded, but said nothing. There was one place he could imagine that being possible, but Dabiri had no need to know that. Yet.
Dabiri continued, “If the spotters have the chance to dig in I think it would help their survival chances, but unless they’re good with camouflage it could make their detection more likely. If we can get laser designators with a longer range I think that would help too.”