PYOTR SULVINA — Colonel 1 st Officer, 28th Combined Arms Army
IVAN OVCHAROV–Colonel Chief of Staff, 28th Combined Arms Army
VLADIMIR GUDKOV–Captain Commander, Oscar-class nuclear attack submarine Iskra
NEBOATOV–Captain Commander, 2nd Company, 1st Battalion, 381st Motorized Rifle Regiment, 127th Motorized Rifle Division
LVOV–Captain Commander, 3rd Company, 2nd Battalion, 285th Guards Airborne Regiment, 95th Guards Airborne Division
Chapter 1
To be prepared for war is one of the most effective means of preserving the peace.
A casual glance would have revealed nothing out of the ordinary. The sandy track running east to west disappeared into a pine forest, where it was lost from sight as it made a sharp L turn to the north. The tall grass and the branches of the trees were motionless in the stillness of the late afternoon. The only sign of life was the occasional lazy buzz of an insect flitting about. Sergeant First Class Donald Duncan and the men of the 1st
Platoon, B Company, 3rd Battalion, 503rd Infantry, had spent hours making sure that that was all anyone would see.
Only upon closer inspection of the tree line south of the track could the steel-blue barrels of several rifles and machine guns be seen protruding from concealed positions. Behind each weapon was a man, hunched down, his face distorted by camouflage paint, his battle-dress uniform, or BDUs, soaked in his own sweat. They lay there motionless, waiting for the signal to fire. That signal would come from one of two sources. The primary cue to fire was a booby trap on the trail. A smoke grenade with its pin removed had been placed back in its shipping tube in such a manner as to hold down the spoon that triggered it. A thin wire was attached to the grenade and stretched across the track six inches above the ground and tied to a tree on the other side.
Anyone walking down the track would be snarled in the wire, pulling the smoke grenade from its shipping tube and allowing the spoon to flip up and detonate the grenade. When that happened, everyone in the platoon would commence firing along his assigned sector of responsibility. If, for some unseen reason, the opposing force, or OP FOR did not trip the booby trap, the platoon leader would order the platoon to open fire.
The ensuing firefight would be short but bloodless. The men of both Duncan's platoon and the OP FOR- opposing force-were using MILES, short for 'multiple integrated laser engagement system.' Each weapon was tipped with a rectangular gray box which emitted a laser beam every time the weapon was fired. Every man, friendly or OP FOR had laser detectors on his helmet and webb gear that would detect the laser beam from another weapon. When this happened, a buzzer, also attached to each man's gear, would go off, telling him and his buddies that he was 'dead.' The use of MILES ensured that there would be no doubt who won and who lost, a far cry from the days when most training exercises degenerated into screaming matches of 'I shot you' and
'No you didn't. '
Duncan watched the track from his position. Beside him was his platoon leader, a young second lieutenant of twenty-two who had been with the unit less than three weeks. This was the first time the lieutenant had been out on tactical training, and, as a result, he was nervous and fidgety. Duncan, a veteran of nine years' service and numerous second lieutenants, was a patient teacher. He had tactfully explained to his lieutenant everything the platoon was supposed to do and had walked him around, showing him what to check and look for. The lieutenant, visibly chafing to 'take charge,' wisely accepted Duncan's advice and coaching, asking many questions and mentally noting whom Duncan left on his own and whom he micromanaged. In time he would be running the show. But not today.
Waiting to spring an ambush is, at best, tedious and nerveracking. The frenzied activity of preparing the ambush and the fighting positions was followed by hours of lying in dirt and grass. The young soldiers, used to ceaseless banter and ear-splitting music, were required to maintain a high state of vigilance in silence and almost total isolation. The same cover and concealment that protected them from the enemy separated the men of the 1st Platoon from one another and from their leaders. Each man in the platoon was alone except for the man in the fighting position with him and perhaps the men in the positions immediately to their left and right. The urge to talk and keep each other company was countered by the need to remain silent so that the platoon's position would not be given away. Those who craved a cigarette were discouraged from smoking, because the point element advance party-of the OP FOR would be alert to the smell of cigarette smoke.
Each man's ordeal was made worse by the heat and the insects that populated the pine forest. Soaked from their exertions in preparing for the ambush and from the humidity, the soldiers had sweat rolling down them from every pore on their bodies. Even if there had been a breeze, it would have been unable to penetrate the pine forest. What sweat had evaporated left large white circles of encrusted-salt stains on everyone's BDUs. Sweat from their brows burned their eyes as it ran down and settled in their eye sockets.
But uncomfortable as this was, it did not compare to the annoyance of the insects. Bugs of every description buzzed about freely or crawled on the soldiers, biting exposed skin as they worked their way into the clothing.
Few of the men were able to fight the urge to swat and scratch-actions which, however, were mostly futile; efforts to kill or shoo the bugs seemed only to encourage them. These little annoyances did much to increase each man's desire for combat. At least when the OP FOR came, he would be able to lash out at someone, with tangible results.
Duncan's mind, wandering from one random thought to the next, was brought back to the problem at hand by a report from the platoon's forward security element, located one hundred meters down the trail.
Using a sound powered phone, they reported movement to their front.
Duncan's only instructions to them were, 'Stay alert and keep me posted.' He glanced at his watch. It was 1658 hours. Those shit-for-brains idiots really took their time, Duncan thought before he turned to his platoon leader and whispered, 'Show time, Lieutenant.'
Raising himself ever so slightly from his concealed position, Duncan signaled the squad leaders to get ready. There was a slight rustling as men readjusted their positions and prepared to engage the OP FOR In a few seconds all was again still. They were ready.
The first sign that told them the OP FOR was near was the crunching of sand beneath boots and the sound of someone scurrying about in the grass and the bushes. It was the OP FOR point element. Two men from the 2nd Platoon, the OP FOR for that day, were leapfrogging down the track in advance of their platoon's main body. Their job was to alert the rest to danger before the whole platoon became involved. The two-man point element worked its way slowly, in no hurry to 'die.' One man would over watch ready to cover by fire if necessary from one side of the track while the other dashed ten to twenty meters ahead to a new firing position in the bushes on the other side of the track. Both men would then scan the area, looking for signs of the enemy. When they were satisfied that all was clear, the man who had been over watching would get up and dash down the trail to a new position past his partner, who would now be over watching
Duncan watched the progress of the point element. The call light on the sound-powered phone signaled an incoming call. Duncan picked it up and whispered, 'Duncan.' It was the security element reporting the passing of the 2nd Platoon's main body. Duncan didn't reply. He settled down next to his lieutenant and whispered, 'Two more minutes and they're in the bag.'
From the machine-gun position to his left, the sudden beep-beep-beep of a digital watch announced that it was 1700 hours. Duncan, his eyes as wide as saucers, turned to the source of the noise, then back to the OP FOR point element. They had gone to ground, only the swaying of branches to show where they had disappeared. Duncan looked about, noticing that the call light of the sound powered phone was on. He picked up the phone and answered. The man on the other end announced that the 2nd Platoon was deploying on either side of the trail. The 1st Platoon's ambush had been blown.
Further reports from the security element were cut short by the popping of small-arms fire.
