Without finishing or waiting for a response, Bannon slid himself back off the turret and climbed down the same way he had come up. To stay any longer would not do him or his nervous system any good. If the point hadn't been made by now, it never would be.
Bannon hadn't walked ten meters from the 31 tank when Pierson's low, firm voice startled him. 'This is starting to be a regular routine, isn't it, Captain Bannon? I'm going to start setting my watch by you.' Bannon stopped, turned toward Pierson's figure, and leaned against a tree for support. He still hadn't calmed down from his discussion with Garger and Pierson's sudden appearance had scared the hell out of him. As he collected his wits, he thought to himself, 'The sun isn't even up and it is building up to be a real peachy day.' Looking at the dark figure approaching him, he asked, 'Are you looking to give me a heart attack or is this some type of leadership reaction course?'
'No, sir, I just wanted to come over and save our favorite lieutenant before the wolves got him. But from the roar, I figured I was too late so I decided to wait for you here.'
'You know, I could charge you with attempted murder.'
'You wouldn't do that, Captain. Then, who would you find to whip this collection of derelicts and criminals you call a tank platoon into shape?' 'You're right, Sergeant Pierson. No sane man would take the job. I guess I'll have to keep you. But I'm not too sure about your lieutenant. After stand-to and breakfast I'm going to talk to the Old Man about pulling Garger out. If I give you Williams as a loader do you have a gunner who can take over the 31 tank and a loader that can move into a gunner's seat?' 'Sergeant Pauly could handle the tank and I have a couple of loaders who are ready to gun. But do you want to start screwing around with crews at this late stage? I mean, the lieutenant may not have all his stuff together yet but given a little more time, I'm sure he'll catch on. You know how it was your first time out.'
'Yes, Sergeant Pierson, I know what it was like. I really wasn't much better than Garger. But this is different. When I screwed up as a young platoon leader the worst I got was an ass chewing from the CO, a lot of smirks from the men in the platoon, and a sick feeling in my stomach. If the balloon goes up in the next couple of days and Garger blows it, he not only stands a damn good chance of losing his own behind and his crew's, but a failure on his part could cost me the whole platoon and more. I feel sorry for the kid and I wish I could do more for him. But I have a whole company to look out for and I'm not going to take any chances that I don't have to.'
Bannon and Pierson stood for a minute and stared at each other, neither of them able to see the other's facial expression. Both knew that what the other said was right, to a degree.
Pierson hated to admit defeat, the defeat of not being able to train his new lieutenant.
Bannon felt the same. But they also knew that there simply was no time left, that they had to deal with bigger issues than pride. Garger might do well once the shooting started. There was no way to tell. Bannon didn't want to take the chance. His mind was set. If he could swing it, Garger would go. The two men exchanged a few more remarks, mostly about the condition of the platoon's vehicles, plans to improve the positions, and the training that needed to be done that day. Then they parted, Bannon proceeding around the hill to the Mech Platoon while Pierson started rousing his platoon for stand-to. The war, or at least the preparations for war, went on.
By the time Bannon had worked his way down to the walled farm and to the dismounted element of the Mech Platoon's positions, it was getting light. Not that you could see the sun.
In fact, the rising fog made it almost impossible to see anything beyond twenty meters. The Mech Platoon, led by 2nd Lt. William Harding, was already moving into its position and preparing for stand-to.
Bannon decided to stay with them until after stand-to. This platoon was good. They had an unusually good combination of platoon leader, platoon sergeant, and squad leaders.
Harding and the platoon sergeant, a SFC Leslie Polgar, had been together for almost a year and they complemented each other. Harding did the thinking, gave the orders, and led the platoon while Polgar led the training and did the motivating and the ass kicking, which to Polgar were all one and the same.
It was easy to see that the soldiers were well trained and confident in themselves, their weapons, and their leaders, Bannon thought as he watched them. The men moved into their positions with hardly a word, checked their weapons, situated themselves to cover their assigned areas, ready for the enemy or stand down, whichever came first. By the time Bannon had arrived at the farm, Harding had already sent a squad into the village to establish a listening post, or LP. The men manning the LP had taken two Dragons with them. Harding kept his other two Dragons with the mounted element. As he leaned against the farmhouse wall, looking out of the window across from Harding, Bannon kept thinking how worthless he would be here if the other people came boiling out of the fog. Without his sixty-one-ton tank wrapped around him, he wouldn't be much good to anyone in a fire fight armed only with a .45 pistol that was probably older than he was. Not that the .45 was a bad weapon. It's just that in a real fire fight Bannon wanted to have the ability to reach out and touch someone.
Hand-to-hand combat, eyeball-toeyeball brawls with the enemy might make great war movies, but it simply wasn't his idea of doing business. At the first opportunity, he resolved to secure himself an Ml6 rifle. It might be a pain to carry around, but an M 16 provides its owner with a much greater sense of security when he is fumbling around in the dark alone.
By 0500 it was as light as it was going to get and there were no Russians, or anyone else for that matter, in sight. Bannon told Harding to maintain the squad in the village until the fog lifted and to stand down the rest of his platoon. He also reminded Harding of the 0730 platoon leaders' meeting and the weapons inspection for the Mech Platoon at 0900 hours. Bannon knew that by the time he returned to the platoon all weapons would have been checked for cleanliness, functioning, headspace, and timing by either Harding or the platoon sergeant or both. But it was part of the routine that had been established, and it gave him a chance to learn more about the men in the platoon and a chance for them to see him. It was important that the attached units know that their commander had high standards when it came to important items like weapons, positions, camouflage, and all those things that separated the quick from the dead.
On his way back, Bannon walked from track to track, greeting each crew as they prepared for breakfast and another day on the border. He made some corrections, a few comments, listened to a complaint or two, and generally let himself be seen. Only around the 31 tank was his presence greeted with a proper but chilled reception. The other crew members of 31 were in a depressed mood, for they, like Pierson, did not want to be defeated by the loss of their lieutenant. But they were far less sanguine than Pierson about fighting for his retention. The crew knew that if Garger screwed up in combat they would be the first to pay for it. Unlike a dismounted infantry squad where every man can go off on his own if something gets screwed up, a tank crew is a joint venture where one's fate is welded to the actions of the other crew members. The sixty-one tons of steel that enclose them silently bind their collective fates together. So there is a strong self-serving motivation that causes tankers to work together and ensures that each member of the crew can perform his job. Pride was running a distant second to survival for most of the 31 crew.
Uleski, the tank crews of the two headquarters tank and the ITV crews were either washing and shaving or squaring away their tracks by the time Bannon finished his morning rounds.
The ITV that had been at the edge of the tree line had pulled back into its hide position and was camouflaged. Uleski was squatting next to the PC, stripped down to his waist, washing himself from a small pan of water. Looking up as Bannon approached, he grinned, 'I knew you would be back by stand-to. I just didn't know what day. Do you have a murder to report and an emergency requisition for a second lieutenant platoon leader to submit?'
'Come on, U, I'm a nice guy. Do you for one moment think that I would bring any harm to that poor young man over in 3rd Platoon? I mean, do I look like a mean person?'
Standing up and squinting his eyes as he looked Bannon over, he replied, 'Oh, sorry. I thought you were my CO, the one who isn't worth a damn in the morning until he's eaten a second lieutenant.'
'Yeah, it's me alright. Only this morning a second lieutenant wasn't enough. Now I'm looking for a first lieutenant for dessert.' Uleski looked to his left, then to his right, using exaggerated movements, then turned back to face Bannon. 'Ain't seen any o'them 'round here. Y'all might try over in yonder hill cuntree,' pointing east to the border. With the second round of poor humor decided in Uleski's favor, the Team commander and XO got down to the morning's business while Uleski finished washing and Bannon dug his shaving gear out and prepared to wash up. Uleski had a long day ahead and Bannon wanted him to get started. There were maintenance problems that needed attention, and spare parts that had to be requested, borrowed, or scrounged. The laundry point needed to be located and arrangements made to turn in the company's laundry. Batteries for field phones and wire to replace some which had been torn out by a cavalry track that had wandered into the Team's area had to be found.
