Iranians and turned back. Their battalion commander claimed that it was the Iranian Communists who had done it. Who had done it, however, made little difference. The fact was that the battalion was isolated, with helicopters being their only secure link to the rest of the U.S. Army.
This did little to instill confidence in Duncan or his men. Because of their tenuous position, each man understood how critical it was that they hold. If they were not able to stop the Russians, there would be nowhere safe to hide among a population that was as hostile as the enemy they faced to their front.
The battalion's main defensive positions were several kilometers south of Rafsanjan, on high ground that flanked the main road and offered excellent fields of fire to the Americans. The battalion's scout platoon was located on the forward edge of the town. Duncan did not envy them their position.
He and his platoon had made a sweep of the town when the unit first arrived. In all his life Duncan had never imagined such filth or squalor.
The houses were mud-brick structures of one or two rooms that held only the barest of primitive furniture. Through the center of the dirt streets ran an open ditch that served as a sewer. The people consisted of women, children, old men and horribly maimed young men, veterans and refuse of the war with Iraq.
All were thin as rails and watched the Americans with barely concealed contempt and hate. The platoon had been sent in to find the village mullahs and search for arms. Neither mullahs, weapons nor able-bodied men of military age were found. No doubt they would make their appearance at a time of their choice.
The company was arrayed with two platoons abreast and a third behind them.
This gave the company's position depth and, at the same time, all-around security. Four heavy TOW antitank guided missiles reinforced the company in addition to the unit's thirteen Dragon medium antitank guided missiles.
Four 66mm. light antitank rockets, called LAWs, per man and extensive antitank mine fields to their front rounded out the company's anti armor capability. C Company was deployed to B Company's right, A Company was to the left, and D Company deployed to the rear, giving the battalion defense in depth as well as a reserve. A 105mm. howitzer battery was in direct support of, the 3rd Battalion. AH-64 attack helicopters operating from an airfield at Kerman provided backup if needed to deal with a serious Soviet threat.
The officers and most of the men of the battalion felt they could hold against anything the Soviets sent against them. Duncan and a few of the more cynical men had their doubts. He had served in a mechanized infantry unit in Germany and knew what tanks were capable of doing, even the old M-60A 1 tanks that were dinosaurs in comparison to the Soviet T-80 tanks.
If-the Soviets were allowed to mass their artillery and hit the companies with masses of armor, the light infantrymen would have only one chance to stop them. And even if the first wave of Russians was stopped, a second wave would be brought forward to either bypass the battalion or conduct a deliberate attack with overwhelming firepower and armor. Should the Soviets succeed and blow through the 3rd Battalion's positions, the battalion would have to withdraw into the desert to predetermined rally points where helicopters from Kerman could pick them up. Duncan did not like having to depend on helicopters that were far away, nor did he like the prospect of facing a horde of tanks with nothing more than a hole in the ground for protection. He cursed the Infantry Branch assignments NCO who had sent him to a unit that marched twenty five miles for fun and thought a SD-caliber machine gun was big.
The dinner party for Lieutenant General Weir hosted by Lieutenant General Horn and his wife had been a small affair attended only by close friends.
Horn's wife, in an effort to lighten the mood, said it was the least they could do for the hero-to-be. None of the officers in attendance, however, even cracked a smile. Weir, who had been in Washington for the past two days for a final round of briefings and updates before leaving for Southwest Asia, thought the remark in bad taste. Betty Horn meant well, but she didn't know what the men in the room knew. Had she been privy to the discussions and briefings her husband and Frank Weir had taken part in, she would never have made the remark.
As soon as it was polite to do so, Horn hustled Weir into his den.
Alone, and finally beginning to feel the effects of the fine white Rhine wine served with the meal, Weir turned to his host. 'OK, Bob, you've been wanting to get me alone all day. Here's your big chance.'
Horn pointed to the bar. 'Help yourself and take a seat.'
Weir, being in a surprisingly playful mood, furrowed his brow. 'Is that an order directly from the Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations?'
Horn stopped and looked at Weir, then shook his head. 'Yeah, that's an order. Fix me one, too, while you're at it.'
While Weir poured two tall glasses of bourbon over ice, Horn took off his jacket and sat down. 'You know, Frank, you can forget about most of that bullshit you got today at the White House and the Pentagon. You know what your real mission is?'
Weir answered while he handed Horn his drink and sat down. 'Let me guess, end this war before it becomes unpopular?'
'Close, but not quite. No, your job is not to lose.'
Weir took a sip of his drink before answering. 'Now, that's a hell of a note to send a soldier off to war with. Why don't you just do as the Spartan mothers used to do and tell me to return home with my shield or upon it?'
Horn leaned forward and in a soft but serious voice continued. 'That, my old friend, is exactly what you are not to do. You will be the first American commander faced with the real threat of defeat in the field since the Korean War. Frank, right now there are four U.S. divisions in Iran.
When your corps is fully committed, that will make seven. Those units represent thirty-three percent of the active-duty ground-combat strength of the Army and the Marine Corps. We can't afford to lose that, regardless of what happens to Iran, the Persian Gulf and the whole damned region. If the Russians annihilate that force, there's no telling what will happen in Korea, Central America, Africa and especially Europe. Do you realize that the only reason the Brits and the French are committing forces is so that we don't send more units tagged for NATO into Iran? Those people are quite concerned, to say the least, that if we go down the tubes the Russians will say, 'What the hell, let's take out Western Europe too.' Regardless of what happens, you must preserve your force.'
Weir leaned back and considered Horn's comments for a moment before he spoke. 'Bob, are you telling me to avoid a fight?'
'No. No, that's impossible. You're going to have to duke it out with the Russians. That's the only way we, or, more correctly, you, will be able to stop them. But you're going to have to be damned careful about when and where you pick your battles. We can't afford any long-drawn-out war of attrition or, on the other end of the spectrum, a high-risk operation. Stop them, bloody their nose, but not at the expense of your force.'
'That's just great, Bob. 'Go out and kill Commies, but be careful.'
Care to tell me how I'm going to do that?'
Horn was becoming agitated. 'Damn it, Frank, you know what I mean. And furthermore, you know what's at stake.'
Weir held his hand up as a sign of peace. 'I know, I know. I've thought about the whole ugly mess, and came to the same conclusion.
After years of talking conventional deterrence, we finally are going to find out if it really works. And what if it doesn't? What if the Russians can't be stopped with conventional ground, sea and air power alone?'
Neither man answered that. Both simply sat back and sipped their drinks.
They already knew the answer to Weir's question.
Patiedce, planning and a good measure of luck were about to reward Captain
Gudkov and the crew of the Iskra again. Late the previous evening their sensors had detected the sounds of numerous ships traveling at a little under twenty knots. Gudkov, going on the assumption that these noises were coming from a convoy headed for the Persian Gulf, plotted an intercept course that would place him near the front of the convoy.
With no sign of escorting vessels in its immediate area, the Iskra sprinted until it was close enough to pick up strong, discrete signals and was within torpedo range. From that point, as the Iskra closed the distance between it and its target, Gudkov'slowed the boat, reducing the noise and the turbulence it created. There was no need to go
