into the air. The blow-off panels, designed to come off when the ammunition cooked off and vent the force of the explosion up and away from the crew, were lying fifty meters away from where 21 sat. Hebrock brought 24 to within forty meters of 21 and stopped. Both he and his loader watched as the fire died down and smoke slowly rose from the ammo storage compartment on the rear of the turret. Neither man said a word. Just as he was about to report to the Team commander that 21 was a write off, the loader's hatch on 21 swung open. Hebrock watched for a moment. To his amazement, he saw 21's loader climb out, turn around, then reach down to help someone else. Hebrock ordered his driver to pull up next to 21 and called the first sergeant, telling him they needed the ambulance ASAP.
The air attack had given the rest of the battalion a chance to catch up. Colonel Reynolds called to ask if the Team could continue in the lead or if he needed to pass C company forward. Bannon replied that that wasn't necessary. The platoon leaders had been able to rally their people with no trouble, 2nd Platoon using the shattered 21 as their rally point. Bannon ordered Hebrock to leave the recovery of personnel and 21 to the first sergeant and get his platoon moving.
After he had made the transmission, he thought how cold such an order must seem to an outsider. He had no doubt that every man in the 2nd Platoon wanted to help his buddies in 21. Within the platoons there was a strong personal bond that held the men together. It was natural.
But they were at war. It was unfortunate that lieutenant what's-his-name had been hit and was probably dead. That happens in war. He and his crew would be taken care of, however, by someone else. It was the Team's job, and 2nd Platoon's, to continue the mission. They could not stop each time a tank was hit or a man fell. To do so would be to place the other personnel in the Team in jeopardy. Bannon didn't like the thought of rolling away and leaving 21 on its own, but he had his duty, and the Team had a mission, two very cold and uncompromising words.
Team Yankee, having collected itself, moved forward again. This time, however, they were not alone. Far to the left, Bannon could catch glimpses of some of Team Bravo's tracks.
They were now abreast of the Team and moving north. To the rear, he could make out tracks of the battalion command group. He had no doubt that C company was close behind.
Satisfied that all was back on track within the Team and the battalion, he turned his attention to the town of Korberg just to the north. That, and the valley to the east of it, would be the next critical point.
As his track and the ambulance closed on 21, First Sergeant Harrert could feel his stomach begin to knot up. He knew that he wasn't going to see anything new. Two tours in Vietnam, training accidents, and the first few days of this war had exposed him to many such scenes.
Once he was there and doing something, he would be all right. It was the anticipation that bothered him the most. How bad was it this time? How many? Was there something he could do, or did they simply need the body bags? Did he know them, their wives, their children? Would they be able to identify the bodies? First sergeants are supposed to be detached, able to handle these things without a second thought. But first sergeants are also human. It was with great relief that First Sergeant Harrert found that there had been only one casualty. Tessman greeted Harrert and led him and the medic to where the lieutenant was lying, face down.
While the medic began to work on Avery, Tessman explained what had happened. Avery had been standing up in the cupola when the missile hit. The force of the explosion from the main gun rounds set off by the missile hit him squarely in the head and back. The lieutenant simply dropped down to the turret floor. Fortunately for the rest of the crew, the ballistic doors that separated the crew from the stored ammunition had been closed. Some flames did get into the crew compartment, but nothing serious. The tank stopped and the halon fire extinguishers activated. After the explosions stopped, they abandoned the tank and did what they could for the lieutenant.
There wasn't much that they, or the medic, could do for Avery. He was in a very bad way with massive wounds and severe burns on his back and head. The medic told the first sergeant that they needed to get him medevacked right away or they would lose him. With the help of the crew, Avery was placed on a stretcher and loaded into the ambulance which took off for the battalion aid station.
With the ambulance gone, the first sergeant and Tessman began to look over 21. They had the driver try to start the engine but to no avail. The 21 would have to be towed back to the rear by the M-88 recovery vehicle. Looking into the turret and the burned out ammo storage compartment, Harrert commented that the tank would probably be back in action within twenty-four hours. Tessman, observing that this was the second time that this tank had been hit, dryly replied that they should retire it and use it for spare parts. Harrert agreed, but noted that the U.S. Army was fast running out of tanks and couldn't afford to throw them away simply because they had had a run of bad luck. To that, Tessman offered 21 to the first sergeant after it had been repaired. The first sergeant had to stop and think about that one. Maybe this tank should be scrapped.
The Soviet tank company commander did not like the idea of moving through the woods in single file. He would have preferred to have gone north past the town of Langen. By doing that, the company, and the battalion following it, would have been able to deploy into combat formation before making contact with the Americans. The regimental commander, however, had vetoed that idea because of the activity of American reconnaissance helicopters. To have gone through Langen would have exposed them to observation. Not only would the regiment lose the element of surprise, they would also be open to attack from the air.
Instead, the lead tank battalion was winding its way along trails through the woods in order to maintain the element of surprise.
There were few options open to him. Once his tanks began coming out of the woods high on the hill, they would be visible to everyone in the valley. After they had been observed, there would be little time to take advantage of their surprise. Therefore, rather than have the three tanks of his lead platoon, the regiment's combat patrol, go out on its own, he had them pull back with the rest of the company. To succeed, they had to take chances.
He gambled that his commander would not find out that he had pulled in the combat patrol, and the company would not stumble into an ambush. Thus the entire company was bunched up as they neared the edge of the woods overlooking the valley. The company would therefore be able to clear the tree line and deploy into a tight battle formation rapidly. It was a good plan, and he was sure that it would work.
The only thing that could possibly go wrong now was an antitank ambush along the trail they were on. If the lead tank was hit, the others would be backed up, unable to bypass or fight. The thought of such a thing gave the tank company commander chills. The sooner he was out of these damned woods and in battle formation, the better, as far as he was concerned.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Counterattack
Air Force Maj. Orrin 'The Snowman' Snow was pissed. As he led his wingman to where their two A-lOs were to loiter and wait for good targets, he reflected that the people running Flight Operations had to be morons. He could understand how the Army pukes could screw up. Hell, most of them couldn't tell the difference between their planes and the Russians', let alone what to do with them. But getting the royal weenie from your own people was too much. It was bad enough that they had had to fight their way through enemy flak that wasn't supposed to be there to get at the target. But then to discover that the target wasn't there now, if it ever had been there, was too much.
Now the two A-lOs, having barely made it back from behind the enemy lines, were being diverted into a holding pattern where they would wait until a good target was nominated. It made sense. It would have been dumb to send the aircraft back to the air field loaded with ordnance. But Snowman wasn't interested in logic right now. He was madder than hell for wasting their time and being sent on a worthless mission. If someone didn't come up with a good mission fast, he was going to lead the other A-10 to Flight Ops and bomb it, just for the hell of it.
The Team was making good progress, too good. Colonel Reynolds called Bannon and ordered him to slow down. C company was having a hard time keeping up, creating a large gap between Team Yankee and it. The colonel wanted to keep the companies close together. Bannon turned around in the cupola and looked back at the Mech Platoon. They were having no problem keeping up with the tanks. He couldn't imagine what the problem was with C company. Those boys were having a rough morning.
