the 2nd Platoon, not by intention but by necessity. The platoon therefore found itself facing the dark mysteries of combat for the first time with no idea of what it was really going to be like.
Rationalizing why the platoon was doing poorly was one thing. Doing something about it was another. One thing was for sure. If they didn't do any better in their first battle than they had just done on the aborted attack on the knoll, there would be no second battle for the 2nd Platoon.
Captain Evans belabored that point as he drove home each error they had committed that night. While his men formed up and prepared for the fifteen-kilometer foot march back to their laager area, Lieutenant Cerro racked his tired brain for a method of getting his men over their fear of the unknown and ready for combat. He decided that the solution would come to him as soon as he had mastered his own fears.
Despite the fact that Tabriz had been 'officially secured' on 31 May, there was still sporadic gunfire throughout the city as snipers took pot shots at small groups of Soviet soldiers, even in daylight. At night the Soviets didn't move unless they were in an armored vehicle.
The curfew, which ran from one hour before sunset to one hour after sunrise, simply stated that anyone seen on the streets at night would be shot. Nervous soldiers enforced this rule with a vengeance, often with deadly results for their comrades, since they fired at anything that moved, including friendly patrols.
As Colonel Pyotr Sulvina entered the headquarters of the 28th Combined Arms Army, he studied the two guards at the entrance. They were young men, neither one older than nineteen. They crouched behind their sandbag emplacement until Sulvina was too close to ignore. Both popped up and saluted, returning to their crouched position behind the sandbags as soon as Sulvina returned their salute. Their uniforms were dirty. Their faces were haggard from a combination of fear, anxiety and lack of sleep. With dark circles around their eyes and two days of stubbly beard on their chins, they looked more like the defeated than the victor.
Inside, posters that called for sacrifices in the name of Allah still hung on the walls. Sulvina couldn't read all the messages, but found it amusing that posters calling for death to the godless Americans were almost as numerous as those aimed against the Iraqis.
None mentioned the Soviet Union. Fools, Sulvina thought. They feared the snake that was never there and didn't see the bear.
His thoughts were interrupted by a warm greeting from the army's chief of staff, Colonel Ivan Ovcharov. There were a few moments of small talk, the chief of staff asking how the weather was in Moscow and Baku as he walked Sulvina to his office, where they could get down to business. Once the door was closed, Ovcharov's jovial face turned cold. 'Well, what is the verdict?' he asked.
Sulvina removed his hat and placed it and his briefcase on a chair. He then walked over to the window, considering his answer.
'It is not a good idea to stand before an open window like that, Comrade.
The army commander has already lost an aide in this building doing the same thing.'
Sulvina looked at the chief of staff with raised eyebrows as he slowly backed away. 'Are they still that active?'
The chief of staff looked at him quizzically. 'Still? After last night, there is every indication that it is getting worse. We have already commenced reprisals. It will be several days, however, before that has any effect.'
Reprisals, Sulvina thought. What a useful term for making the practice of shooting civilians in retaliation for the shooting of Soviet soldiers seem justifiable. Perhaps it is necessary. War has its own rules.
'So, are you going to tell me the results of your trip to see our intrepid General Staff officers at STAVKA and Front Headquarters, or must I guess?'
'I am afraid, Colonel, you already know the results. All plans remain the same, and the forces committed will not be reinforced. Our losses do not yet justify that. Nor do we have authorization for the use of chemical weapons yet.'
The chief of staff considered for a moment. 'Yes, I expected no less.
And STAVKA's appraisal is correct, we have not been handled too roughly. We have succeeded everywhere we have gone. But it is taking us too long.
Do you realize that it has become a common practice now to stop at every roadblock and conduct a deliberate attack against it with artillery and tanks? Do you know why? It is because we no longer have any recon units able, or willing, to go forward without an artillery preparation being fired on the high ground overlooking the roadblock.
It is saving us men but consuming tremendous amounts of ammunition and, more important, time. We no sooner clear one roadblock than a few kilometers down the road there is another. Even when we place airborne or air assault forces behind the Iranians, they still build their roadblocks-'
The chief was angry and frustrated. Sulvina was one of the few officers in the army he could trust, which was why he had been selected to go to Front Headquarters to report on the army's situation and why the chief could talk freely to him. One had to be careful what one said. No doubt one or more of the 28th Combined Arms Army's staff officers was KGB, which was probably how STAVKA had found out about the army's slow progress.
'What about ammunition? We are now using three times the amount of ammunition that had been projected. Are we going to get any relief in that area?'
'Colonel, I am afraid that even if Front was willing to increase its allocation of ammunition, which it will not do, it does not have the means to deliver it to us. As it is, attacks against supply columns have taken terrible toll of the trucks we have for resupply. Air resupply will be increased for some critical commodities, but bulk shipments of fuel and ammunition will still have to come over the roads. To relieve pressure on the supply system, STAVKA intends to delay the movement of the 17th Combined Arms Army south behind us. Even they understand the need to keep our lines of communication clear and supplies flowing.'
'Roads,' the chief interrupted. 'Roads that require continuous guarding and siphon off combat troops from the front. On one hand the 17th CAA would help by guarding those roads, and on the other they would block them with their own units and supply columns. Either way, we suffer.'
'When I mentioned that, the Front Commander merely remarked that we have yet to use a fraction of our men at the front, making the argument for commitment of parts of the 17th CAA or an increase in ammunition resupply weak.'
'Perhaps the Front Commander would change his tune if he had been here when we stormed this miserable excuse of a city.' The chief stopped for a moment. Ignoring his own advice, he went to the window and looked out.
Without turning to face Sulvina, he continued. 'What news of the other fronts?'
'In the east, Mashhad has fallen, but only after a bloody fight. The 89th Motorized Rifle Division is hung up around Birjand. Because they need the road that runs through it and the airfield for resupply, they have comsnenced a siege of that city. The bridgeheads along the Caspian continue to build up, but, as with us, forward progress is slow. The Elburz Mountains they face are far more formidable than the ones we have to deal with. And in the west, our good allies the Iraqis attacked, as planned, and lost ground, as expected, without tying down any appreciable Iranian forces, as hoped.'
Still looking out the window, the chief asked, 'And the Americans? What about them?'
'STAVKA is less sure about the Americans' intentions than it used to be.
There is now an airborne brigade in Egypt, with more on the way. A Marine brigade is being flown into Diego Garcia. Air Force units have also been reported in Egypt. Naval activity in the Arabian Sea has increased, and the addition of a carrier group is expected.'
In a monotone, the chief asked, 'How long before the Americans enter Iran?'
'Two weeks at the earliest, probably four at the outside.'
The chief of staff thought about that. He turned to Sulvina. 'And when that happens, my friend, we will have a whole new war to fight before we finish the first.'
The pinging of the sonar on the hull of the submarine was clearly audible to the commander, Captain Vladimir Gudkov, and the crew. They had been found again. For the third time in sixteen hours the Soviet Oscar-class submarine had failed to penetrate the escort screen of the carrier battle group. A series of orders resulted in a rapid dive and several sharp turns as the submarine attempted to break contact.
