he arranged for better billeting and rations for them as a reward. Ilvanich, though at first reluctant, accepted the improved conditions. A few days later, the major began to use Ilvanich for special missions, including courier and liaison duties. For this Ilvanich was given a vehicle that, the major casually mentioned, could be used by Ilvanich when he wasn't needed for official duties. The young lieutenant, taught from an early age to distrust the KGB, made sure to do only what was required and not abuse his freedom or status.
This behavior, noted by the major, in turn resulted in greater trust and new duties, including the guarding of the KGB headquarters in Tabriz by Ilvanich's men. Though boring, it was preferable to being executioners.
The greatest surprise came when Ilvanich was made a Hero of the Soviet Union for his role in stopping a breakthrough at the airfield in Tabriz during the opening days of the war. Though he was pleased to receive the honor, realization that the KGB major had probably been instrumental in securing the award for him frightened Ilvanich. Slowly he was being drawn into the KGB major's power. The major had adopted the young lieutenant and seemed to be preparing him for other duties that the State required. It was therefore a blessing when orders came down to report back to the regiment and prepare for future operations.
The regiment had changed. In his old battalion there were new officers and men. Ilvanich was surprised to find that a captain from the division staff, rather than the old deputy company commander, had been put in command. From the beginning Ilvanich and Lvov did not get along. The captain had not made the jump into Tabriz and had no combat experience. He knew how to give a good political indoctrination to the company, but that failed to impress those of the unit who had survived the jump. Ilvanich, on the other hand, was looked up to by all the officers and men. First, he was a veteran, a recognized leader and a decorated hero. Second, he had been able to take care of his men by securing special privileges and rations for them.
Finally, the men could trust him and talk to him. They felt comfortable in his presence and he in theirs.
Captain Lvov sought to humble the young junior lieutenant in an effort to solidify his position as the commander, but failed when Ilvanich responded with cold but proper military courtesy. As the unit trained and prepared for the upcoming mission, the junior lieutenant always had his men ready before anyone else and without fail was always one or two steps ahead of the captain in anticipating requirements or reading the tactical situation.
Rather than use his lieutenant's ability to his advantage, the captain only redoubled his efforts to break him. Public ridicule and dressing-downs for trivial matters became a routine for Ilvanich. This treatment, however, never seemed to bother him. Lvov's efforts to evoke a hostile response with abuse were always returned by a cold, hard stare from Ilvanich's steel-blue eyes and expressionless face. There was nothing the captain could do to penetrate the hard shell that the junior lieutenant had created and withdrawn into out of necessity.
The interior of the M-8 helicopter was black as a coal mine. Yet Ilvanich could feel the captain's eyes on him. The feeling was more than mere paranoia. When the company began to assemble and prepare for the mission, the captain always seemed to be behind Ilvanich, watching him. Ilvanich's men had noticed the captain's behavior and casually asked whether there was something the young lieutenant needed. Each time one of his squad leaders asked him that question, the lieutenant merely answered that he would not require any assistance in doing what was necessary. Ilvanich clutched his assault rifle and pondered what would really be necessary.
The announcement by the pilot that they were fifteen minutes out tore Ilvanich's thoughts away from his dilemma and switched them to the impending operation. Two battalions of the 285th Airborne Regiment were going in to seize the airfield at Kerman by air assault. Defending the airfield was a battalion of Americans from the elite 12th Light Infantry Division. This would be the first confrontation between Soviet and American ground forces. The men new to the regiment were uneasy, not knowing what would happen and unsure how they would act. The veterans, almost to a man, slept. Only Ilvanich, clutching his rifle, was awake, peering into the darkness in the direction of his captain.
Like a thunderclap, the realization of what the Soviets were up to hit the operations officer of the AWACS. As an Air Force officer, he had looked at the situation from a purely Air Force view. The incoming raids, oriented on obvious targets of concern to the Air Force, had evoked the reaction the operations officer had been trained to execute and the Soviets had hoped for. At the time when the massive Soviet air assault forces were still airborne and thus the most vulnerable, U.S. aircraft that could have smashed the assault had been placed in a defensive posture well to the south.
With precious little time, the operations officer had to completely reorient his attention. While the situation over the Gulf continued to build and demanded attention, forces had to be shifted to the north against the air assault. A quick analysis of the enemy situation and the location and status of friendly forces resulted in few good choices. The Air Force could defeat the threat to U.S. forces in and along the Gulf or its aircraft could charge north and strike at the Soviet air mobile forces. To attempt both would run the risk of failing in both areas.
As the operations officer discussed the situation with the small staff of the AWACS, he watched the situation screen and half listened to the reports coming in. The wing from Bandar Abbas, the one nearest and best capable of influencing the situation to the north, was beginning to engage the incoming Soviets near its base. In another minute, it would be fully involved in combat and unavailable for commitment to the north. The next group available were the fighters scrambling from Oman, which were tagged to protect the AWACS. Options narrowed rapidly. One, send the F-15s from Bandar Abbas north, leave that base open, and accept, at best, severe damage to the airfield and the port facilities. Two, send the fighters coming from Oman north and jeopardize the AWACS. Third, have the fighters from Oman cover Bandar Abbas and have the F- 15s go north.
Fourth, do nothing about the north and leave all fighters to perform their assigned missions.
The seconds passed and the window of opportunity to influence the situation slipped as the opposing aircraft joined battle. Already new radar tracks representing ai rto-air missiles could be seen on the screen. The Soviets had achieved surprise. Realization of the error in assessing the situation came too late for effective reaction. By saying nothing, the operations officer could let all orders stand.
It would be so easy not to make a decision.
But no decision was a decision, a decision that would have terrible results for the Army.
Despite the fact that the radar tracks representing the first wave of Soviet helicopters were descending on their targets, the operations officer decided on a compromise. He ordered a squadron from the F-15 wing at Bandar Abbas north to Kerman. There was little probability that they would make it there in time to influence the situation. The effort, however, had to be made.
Martain could not believe that they had just received the order to break contact and head north. Most of the aircraft had already engaged or were about to enter combat. Omaha Flight was on the verge of bouncing a flight of four MIGs when the order to recall came. From the backseat Martain's wizzo exclaimed, 'Shit! Another thirty seconds-that's all we need.'
Martain looked at his displays. He had complete situation awareness.
All was in order. Everything was set for their attacks. He and his wingman could each get a single short- range missile shot, kick in their after burners for a second, clear the remaining MIGs before they could react, and be on their way north. There was no sense in pissing away a perfectly good setup. Without further thought, he hit his radio transmit button. 'Omaha Two, this is Omaha One. I got my fangs out. Follow me.'
He had no sooner finished his transmission than the squadron commander came back and ordered Martain to break off his attack. Martain's mind, however, blocked him out. All Martain's thoughts were focused on making the kill. He watched his displays and listened for the radar tone. For the next fifteen seconds his eyes were glued to the heads-up display to his front. Ever so carefully he guided his F-15 through an easy turn as he aligned the blip representing the MIG with a small box in the center of his display that represented the proper angle for a missile attack. As soon as the blip and the box were aligned, he got a steady tone. Launching a missile, he yelled to his wizzo to hang on, threw the F-15 into a violent turn and kicked in his after burners.
Only when they had passed the speed of sound did he acknowledge the squadron commander's order. A rebuke from the commander was followed by confirmation from an AWACS controller hundreds of miles away that Omaha
OI's missile shot was a kill. Fuck the Old Maneven he can't argue with a kill, Martain said to himself.
The men of 1St Platoon, recently stirred from their sleep, slowly made their way into their fighting positions
