Pedestals of Ash (18 page)

Private Pilowski’s angle allowed him to see the approaching
“enemy helicopter,”
long before any of the soldiers meeting the aircraft. His vanta
ge point blocked both the
Humvee
and the
upwardly ris
ing smoke from view.
To the worried young solider, it looked like the damned thing was pointed right at him.
When the craft flared its nose upwards during its landing approach, the inexperienced private thought the pilot
was aiming for
him
,
and that made his h
eart stop. Some of the smoke gre
nade’s
cloud
was caught in the
hovering bird’s
updraft
appearing as small whiffs of white smoke directly underneath the skids. T
hat convinced the now breathless private that rockets had been fired
– at him.

Private Pilowski’s
training, all be it short, was e
ffective
.
His fingers
disengaged the safety from the Stinger’s main body, squeezed the trigger to stage one
,
and watched the display until it read “locked.”
He pulled the trigger further back and heard the sizzle as the rocket’s motor ignited. What he didn’t hear was
his squad leader screaming at the top of his lungs to “STOP!”

The Stinger’s small,
two-pound
warhead exited the launcher tube
,
propelled by a 70mm rocket motor
.
The missile had traveled only a short distance from the launcher when Pilowski’s squad leader tackled him
,
knocking both the young soldier and the n
ow spent launcher to the ground
a second too late. True to its specifications, the Stinger was a
“
fire and forget weapon
,”
and the entire squad watched in horror as the missile wobbled just a little and then accelerated quickly toward the landing helicopter.

Movement
to his right caught Major Owens’
eye
,
and he snapped his head around just as the
S
tinger reached a speed that made it invisible to the naked eye. The first thought th
at went through his mind was, “
T
hat looked like a missile plume
.” Just
as the thought registered, the g
eneral’s helicopter erupted in a
brilliant white
ball of
light.
The spinning rotors were moving at almost full speed as the fuselage
turned into a boiling cloud of red and orange fire and veered
sharply right
. What remained of the craft
slammed into the ground
,
spreading even more flame and destruction.

The m
ajor stared without comment for almost a full two seconds before uttering a weak, almost undetectable, “Holy shit.
” By
the time the helicopter’s momentum had bled off, there was nothing left but a smolder
ing
trail of burning scrap
,
scattered for almost
two hundred
meters across the
concrete. It was
inconceivable that
anyone
could
have
survived the wreck.

Fitz
was in the turret watching
the
helicopter’s
approach and
was initially confused when the
Stinger l
aunch
ed
from near his position. His
first instinct had been to fire up his engine and move to render assistance to the crashed copter, but he quickly changed his mind once he saw the huge yellowish ball of flame rise
over the treetops.
Nobody walked away from that
, he thought.
The s
e
rge
a
nt did maintain the presence of mind to switch his radio to the command net and report both the missile launch and a single downed Blackhawk.

The resulting fireball drew the attention of several people, and
radios
sprang to life up and down both lines. It took the officers almost a full minute to calm everyone down. In that time, Major Owens went from surprise to shock to outright boiling anger. His gunner was now scanning the area where he thought he had seen a missile plume and sure enough, there were human heat signatures all over the place.
So that’s how it’s going to be
, C
olonel? So that’s how your ‘Independents’ are going to fight?

It suddenly dawned on Owens that
whoever
h
ad just fired a missile at the g
eneral’s bird might have anti-
tank
missiles as well. They might be locking onto
him
at this very moment. He screamed an order for his driver to move and for his gunner to load HEAT, or a high explosive shell, into the tank’s main gun. As the enormous machine lurched forward, it accelerated more like a sports car than a
135,000-pound
instrument of dest
ruction. In a few moments, Owen
s heard the status word of “Up,” from his gunner
,
and he ordered him to fire into the middle of the soldiers he knew had just killed his command
ing general
.

The M1 tank’s smooth
,
bore cannon let loose with its deadly ordnance, generating a sound so loud it could crush unprotected ear bones from several hundred feet away. A ball of fire some 30 feet in diameter spread out
in front of the tank
, announcing the shot to anyone looking from afar. The air pressure generated by the passing shell’s wake parted and sliced the damp earth beneath it,
throwing up
a cloud of mud and spray for almost 100 feet
,
and leaving a furrow plowed through the soft earth.

The accuracy of the German-
designed gun was legendary, as were the skills of the crews who controlled them. Hundreds of Iraqi armored vehicles had fallen prey to the smooth bore cannon during the
F
irst Gulf War, many at distances that were almost unbelievable. Abram
s
simply didn’t miss,
and the first tank shot of the S
econd American Civil War was no exception. The round exploded right next to Private Pilowski’s position, sending
white-hot
shrapnel ripping through the air in all directio
ns. The army of the Independent
s experienced its
first two casualties from that shell. Private Pilowski was KIA, as was his squad leader.

Major Owens was issuing commands as fast as he could think. His first action was to order additional units to his location as his tank
rolled for cover behind a hanga
r. The second set of commands was to get the
Cav
transformed from a convoy into a battle formation. Within minutes, the long, single file line of armor was realigning itself into a
three-pronged
pitchfork, aimed directly
at the 4/10. The closest platoon to the airport reacted immediately and began rolling hard to reinforce the brigade commander’s position. Four Abrams, accompanied by six other vehicles
,
were moving at top speed from their location less than a kilometer away. Weapon systems were being booted
,
and
brea
ches charged
on both sides. The flash of flame in the sky rendered
the warnings and orders issued over the
radios
redundant.  

Fitz saw the explosion right where one of his recon teams was positioned
, instantly understanding
the relationship between the Stinger launch and the return fire. He quickly switched the TOW missile launcher to active mode and unnecessarily ordered everyone to full alert. The attacking tank was nowhere to be seen
,
and the only evidence of what had just occurred was the pillar of black smoke still billowing off of the downed Blackhawk.

Everything had been quiet for almost two minutes when Fitz’s radio crackled with the news from his scout teams. They heard engine noises, including the
unmistakable whine of several
Abrams tanks. The sounds were moving toward their position and doing so at high speed. 

Fitz’s Stryker was equipped with the TOW-2 missile system, but not all of the units in the 4/10 were the same. Some were equipped with cannons a
nd targeting systems, similar to
that mounted on the Abrams tank
s they faced. While the Stryker
s didn’t have the protective armor of the big tanks, they could still deliver a punch. Fitz switched frequencies, reported the new contacts
,
and then
began
asking for help.

Major Owens was relieved when his second platoon reached his area
and would soon be joined by the rest of the Ironhorse’s command platoon
. He decided to make the airport his command post. He watched with pride
as
the 2
nd
platoon
’
s vehicles executed a perfect maneuver and took up defensive positions
bordering
the
airfield
. The back door of each
Bradley
lowered
,
and infantry began
hustling
out the troop carriers to clear the surrounding area of any threats. One of these squads moved directly toward Fitz’s recon teams
, and only a few minutes later
small arms fire erupted to the east.