Rockeye cluster bombs, with four 750-pound general-purpose bombs each for good measure. This was in addition to their Sidewinder and Sparrow air-to-air missiles for self-defense.
As Omaha Flight came screaming up over the ridge and veered to the northwest at a speed in excess of 550 miles an hour, Martain was reminded of how nervous he got when he was moving that fast one hundred feet off the ground. Their attack profile would be a low approach, followed by a quick pop up to identify the target, and a diving attack.
Once all bombs were released, which would take only a second, he would go low again, kick in his after burner and get the hell out of Dodge before the people on the ground knew what had happened and got pissed.
Omaha 02 would be right beside him, with Vegas Flight thirty seconds behind.
As they approached the pop-up point, Martain again asked his wizzo whether they had been tagged by radar. A short 'Negative' was all he had time for before Martain began to climb and search for landmarks. He had only a second to do so. Starting from the town, he looked to the west until he found a small kidney-shaped hill and then a road. Keeping his eyes glued on a point between the hill and the road, he turned his aircraft toward it.
The fuel dump was tucked into that area.
All his energies and attention were now totally oriented to that spot.
His thumb flipped up the red cover that 218 protected the bomb-release button. With ease born of hours of training, he turned the F-15 over onto its side, then down into a dive, all the time watching the hill as it grew larger and closer. Martain could now see people scurrying from under camouflage nets, running for shelter or weapons. Tracers were racing up at him. The people on the ground knew he was coming and what he was after. A flash and a streak of white smoke to one side of the F-15, seen in the corner of his eye, told Martain he was being engaged by anSA-7 surface-to-air missile.
But it was too late. The F-15 was on the mark. The target was in the box in his sight. All was set. Martain hit the button and felt the aircraft suddenly spring up as it became sixteen thousand pounds lighter. In an instant he hit his after burners, flattened out his dive and charged south as fast as his engines could carry them.
Neither he nor his wizzo could see the effects of their work. They didn't need to. The leader of Vegas Flight coming up behind reported that the target appeared to be destroyed and that he was going after the secondary target.
The sun was casting long shadows on the ground by the time Major Dixon returned to the command post of the 3rd of the 4th Armor. As he approached, the glint of the late-afternoon sun reflecting off uncovered glass caught his eye. As his Bradley grew nearer, he was disturbed to see several vehicles scattered throughout the area without camouflage nets up or cloth covering their windows or mirrors. He could not get over how totally stupid some people were. What use was it to put nets up over the TOC if everyone and his brother who owned a vehicle parked it outside? From the air the CP must look like a used-military-vehicle parking lot.
Even before he was within range, Dixon began to call out for the headquarters commandant. A young captain, too young to command the monster that the battalion's 219
headquarters company was, came out from under a net not far from the TOC.
Without shutting down the engine or getting down from atop his Bradley, Dixon bellowed out, 'Ellis, get these gawddamned vehicles outa here or I'll run 'em over!' Ellis looked up at the red-faced major and attempted to explain, but was cut off as Dixon yelled, 'Now, Captain-today!'
It was only after Ellis had rushed off to find the drivers that Dixon noticed the bumper numbers on two of the uncovered hummers. One of them belonged to the brigade commander and the other to the brigade S-3. Not expecting an answer, he asked himself out loud, 'What in the hell is the brigade commander and his three doing running around in hummers?' No doubt they had their reasons, but none that he could think of at that moment.
Both had more sense than that, or so Dixon assumed.
Once inside the TOC, Dixon saw his battalion commander talking to both the brigade commander and the S- 3. First Lieutenant Matthews was over in one corner talking to the battalion S-2.
Dixon's commander looked up and smiled. 'Scott, I thought I heard you bellow. I was going over our dispositions with Colonel Hardin. He seems concerned that we haven't occupied all of our forward positions yet.'
Dixon walked up to the situation map. 'As we explained during the brief of our OP LAN back on the fifth, we will not move into our actual fighting positions until either the enemy has committed himself into the attack or we lose our ability to detect him before he enters our sector here along Phase Line Thomas.' On the situation map Dixon ran his finger along a black line located in the battalion's forwardmost area. 'By keeping away from our actual fighting positions we make it difficult for the enemy to accurately predict where our kill zones and battle positions are. Hopefully, this will dilute his preparatory bombardment and keep him guessing as to where we are until it's too late for him to react-.'
The brigade commander, with arms folded, leaned back in his chair and studied the map for a moment before speaking. 'You two may be right.
No doubt the Russians have been studying us under a microscope, using everything from satellites to goat herders I would, however, feel a hell of a lot more comfortable if you had more firepower forward.
Besides, as it stands right now, there's no one that can cover your mine fields and barriers. Intell tells us the other side have been good at picking their way through barriers before the battle starts.'
Without waiting for his commander to respond, Dixon said, 'The scout platoon, reinforced with a tank platoon, is more than sufficient to cover the entire battalion's frontage, day or night. Vehicles rotate their positions nightly so that the Soviets can't plot them and plan infiltration routes around them. At night, all barriers are covered by dismounted elements from the mech platoons, as well as one tank or Bradley deployed forward to scan the area with its thermal sight. The techniques we are using worked well for the battalion at the National Training Center and should do well here.'
The brigade commander leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees.
'This isn't the NTC, Major Dixon. Those people closing on us are the real thing.'
Dixon could feel himself getting excited. The thoughts that ran through his mind didn't help: Here we are, with the same plan we briefed two days ago.
The enemy is expected to make contact anytime, and the brigade commander wants us to change now, in the middle of the night, before our first battle. He's got to be bullshitting us.
He allowed himself to calm down before answering. 'You are right, sir, this is not the NTC. I therefore expect the plan to work better, since this will be the first time the Soviets have come across a heavy U.S. unit.'
Switching to the attack, he continued. 'Our concern at battalion is the air assault unit to the west. The large wadi that leads from Harvand to Tarom provides the Soviets with an excellent avenue of approach into our rear and across the brigade's main supply route. If we are hit with a supporting attack and the main attack here,' Dixon pointed to Harvand on the map, 'we would be unable to displace sufficient combat power to stop a major breakthrough.' The battalion commander shot a dirty look to Dixon. They had been over the subject before, and it was becoming a sore point for the brigade commander.
'Dixon, the 1st of the 503rd Infantry will hold. I've been over their plan with their battalion commander and have walked the ground. They know what they are doing.' The brigade commander was clearly agitated.
Dixon was about to state that none of the units in the 12th Division had yet stopped a Soviet attack, but he was cut short by the brigade S-3, who reminded the brigade commander they had to get back for a meeting with the 13 Corps commander.
As the meeting broke up, First Lieutenant Matthews, who apparently was traveling with the brigade S-3, came over to Dixon. 'Have you seen Randy,
I mean Lieutenant Capell, lately, sir?'
Dixon's anger left him as he looked into Matthews' eyes. 'Yes, I just came from there. Randy is doing fine. He's happier than a pig in slop. Do you have a message you want me to give him?'
A smile lit Matthews' face. She reached down into a pocket of her BDUs, pulled out a crumpled letter and offered it to Dixon. 'Would you give this to him, sir?'
With a grin, Dixon took the letter. 'Sure, and I'll tell him you send all your love.'
That made Matthews blush. She saluted, turned and hurried out to where the brigade S-3 was waiting.
When everyone but the people on shift had cleared out of the TOC, Master Sergeant Nesbitt came out of the
