Team Yankee: a novel of World War III (4 page)

Not that they were falling apart. However, life in the field wears away at soldiers unless simple creature comforts such as food, clean dry clothes, and other such necessaries are provided. Added to the problems of living in

the field, the tension caused by the alert and move to the border, followed by the flurry of almost panicked activity during the first twenty-four hours in position, followed by three days of waiting and there is potential for a disaster. This was made worse by the lack of solid news from the outside world and the concerns of the married personnel, including Bannon himself, about the evacuation of the dependents back to the States. To top it off, many of the men had not brought extra fatigues and some hadn't even brought a change of underwear.

After three days of hot weather and hard work, the company was getting funky.

Efforts to secure reliable news from the outside world had failed. The rear areas were in a state of panic as German civilians ignored their government's call to stay in place and instead took to the roads leading west. The Office of Public Information, in a less than brilliant move, had taken the Armed Forces Network off the air. Censorship of the BBC and German radio only told the men in Team Yankee that NATO forces were mobilizing and deploying, something they already knew, and negotiations between NATO and Warsaw Pact representatives were still going on at a secret location. So the men were in the dark, not knowing much more than what was going on within their platoon position and unable to find out from anyone whether they were going to go home tomorrow or be part of the first act of World War III. The longer this situation lasted, the more it tended to erode the men's morale. While there was nothing that Bannon could do about news or settling the dispute that started the whole thing, he and the rest of the Team's leadership could do something about the physical well-being of the men. The first sergeant, Raymond Harrert, had found a gasthaus where the men could wash up and rinse out some underwear. A schedule and transportation had been set up to rotate everyone through the first sergeant's comfort station, now being run by the company supply sergeant. The battalion had switched from dehydrated field rations that came in little brown bags, called MREs, to two hot meals a day, breakfast and dinner, and only one meal of MREs. A work and training schedule, which would allow the Team to improve positions, work out any last-minute crew coordination problems, and rest the men, had been instituted. In effect, the leadership was keeping the men as busy as possible doing constructive things without wearing them out. This kept their minds off the grim situation they were facing while preparing them to meet it. It was all that could be done. Just as Bannon finished washing up, the first sergeant arrived with breakfast.

His arrival at the headquarters position meant that the rest of the Team had finished breakfast, as headquarters tanks and ITVs were always the last to eat. When the men on the position had been served, Harrert, Uleski, and Bannon served each other breakfast.

Standing around the hood of

Harrert's jeep, they ate their cold powdered eggs, rubbery bacon strips, and soggy toast as they listened to the latest news the first sergeant had from the rear.

Most of Harrert's news was bad. The evacuation of dependents, which had started only yesterday, was going slowly. German military and civilian police had set up checkpoints to stem the flow of refugees and clear roads. The opposite was happening as monumental traffic jams became worse. Newspapers were scarce and none were making it farther forward than Division rear. Nor was the delivery of

mail straight yet. Finally, there were no batteries or WD-1 wire to be found anywhere in the brigade.

The good news was limited but welcome. Harrert had located a quartermaster field laundry.

The men would be able to exchange underwear. Uleski commented that the Environmental Protection Agency would be glad. The maintenance contact team working for the Team had located a new laser range finder for the 23 tank and would be up to install it that morning.

While only a few problems would be solved, any forward progress was welcome. The three agreed that, given two more days of peace, the Team would have all the big problems squared away and would be one hundred percent ready. As they finished up their working breakfast, they were joined by the platoon leaders coming up for the 0730 meeting. The group moved over to the PC where Bannon sat on the lowered ramp with Harrert and Uleski sitting on either side of him. The platoon leaders dropped down on the ground facing the three men, taking off their helmets, unbuckling their LBE belts, pulling out notebooks and pencils as they did so. The meeting had no sooner started when the first sergeant nudged Bannon and pointed to the left, "Here comes the Old Man."

Driving up through a logging trail that ran behind the Team's position came the battalion commander's jeep. One could always tell Lt. Col. George Reynolds's jeep. Four antennas that were never tied down were whipping wildly as the jeep rolled down the trail. The jeep had no top and a big infantry blue license plate mounted on the front fender displaying the silver oak leaf cluster of a lieutenant colonel with a black "6" superimposed on it. This violated every security measure the Army had, but "6" didn't give a damn. He was the battalion commander, and he wanted to make sure everyone knew it. Bannon turned the meeting over to Uleski, telling him to find out what the platoons needed as far as fuel and supplies were concerned. He then got up, put on his gear, and walked over to the trail to greet Reynolds.

The jeep hadn't stopped rolling before the colonel jumped out and started heading toward Bannon. They met halfway and exchanged salutes. Instead of "Hi, how are you?"

Bannon was greeted with a gruff "Well, Bannon, how are those overpriced rattletraps of yours this morning?"

"Sir, they're ready to kick ass and take names. When are you going to send me some Russians?"

Falling in on the colonel's left, he and Reynolds walked up to the gathering of platoon leaders despite Bannon's best efforts to steer him clear so that Uleski could go on with the meeting. Everyone stood up, dropping notebooks and maps while they put their helmets back on. Salutes, greetings, and some one-sided small talk ate up about five minutes before Bannon could pry the colonel off to the side and let Uleski carry on. As they walked to the tree line, Bannon informed Reynolds of his intention to replace Garger. The colonel took the same position that Pierson had. War was imminent, and it didn't seem like a good idea to switch platoon leaders. As Bannon was going over his reasons and justification, they both stood at the tree line and watched a two-and-a-half-ton truck drive down from the far side of the valley. The fog had cleared by now except along the river. The sun was bright in a cloudless sky and getting hot. The colonel was about to reply when the earsplitting screech of two fast-moving jets flying at treetop level cut him off. The two officers turned in the direction of the noise just in time to see two more jets come screaming into the valley from the east, drop down lower, and fly up the small valley on the right of the Team's positions.

Bannon didn't recognize the aircraft type, aircraft recognition wasn't one of his strong points.

But it wasn't necessary to identify the exact type. A glimpse of the red star on the fuselage told him everything that he needed to know about the two jets. The waiting was over. The balloon had gone up. Team Yankee was at war.

Despite his best efforts to give the impression that the current situation was nothing to worry about, Sean quietly had begun to make sure that the family affairs were in order. He saw to it that Pat had her emergency evacuation kit ready with food and blankets. He packed a special envelope for her

containing the important family documents. All the little details were reviewed and listed.

These efforts, while possibly reassuring to Sean, were disquieting to Pat. But she said nothing, listened intently to Sean's instructions, and prayed that all this wasn't going to be necessary.

Pat had known it would be the last night when Sean came in. In his eyes was a look of disbelief that all this was happening. She saw the same thing in her own eyes every time she looked in the mirror. When little Sean ran up to his father, rather than taking him to bed, Sean carried him over to the sofa, pulled out the family album, and began to leaf slowly through the pages. The two sat there quietly looking at the pictures until little Sean fell asleep. With great reluctance, Sean put his son to bed. After fifteen minutes, he came out of his son's room with red and moist eyes. For a moment he looked at Pat, then simply said that he was tired and was going to go to bed. Pat went with him.

The phone rang. Sean was up and out in a flash, as if he had never gone to sleep but had been lying there waiting for the call. When he came back, Pat watched him for a moment in the shadows of the dark bedroom as he gathered up his uniform and boots. When she spoke, she startled him. "Are you going in already?"

"Yes. Gotta. Wouldn't look good for the CO to be late, would it?"

"Will you be home for breakfast?"

"No, I won't."

"Should I hold supper for you tonight?"

"No, no need to."

Pat knew. And Sean knew Pat knew. After eight years of marriage, it's hard to hide secrets and harder to hide feelings. Sean came over to the bed and sat next to his wife. "Pat, the battalion is moving to the border in an hour. I don't know when we will be back."

"Is everyone going?"

"Everyone. The NATO ministers and their governments are mobilizing.

Everyone is going, including you."

"Are they really going to evacuate?"

"Starting this morning at 0900. That was going to be announced anyway. Now, there's no doubt."

As he finished dressing, Pat dressed. There was much to do. Sean was in the children's bedroom. She watched him for a moment and then went to the kitchen where she fixed her husband a bag lunch. As she was finishing it, all the restraint she had exercised and all her efforts to give Sean a cheery face and smile when he left collapsed. She began to cry. Her husband was going out the door in a minute to fight World War III, and all she could do for him was fix him a bag lunch.

CHAPTER TWO.

First Battle.

Both Colonel Reynolds and Captain Bannon stood there transfixed, staring at the point where the two Russian jets had disappeared up the valley. Bannon's mind was almost numb. He kept trying to convince himself that maybe he hadn't really seen two Russian jets.

Maybe he was mistaken. It had to be a mistake. The thought, "We can't really be at war. That isn't possible," kept running through his mind.

They both snapped their heads back toward the east as a crash and rumble like distant thunder rolled over them. They could only see the hill across the valley. But neither man needed to see to know what the distant noise was. The endless chain of distant crashes and rumblings, caused by hundreds of guns, could only be the Soviets' preparatory bombardment on the cavalry's forward positions.

Bannon turned and looked at the colonel. He continued to stare east as if he could look through the hill across the valley and see what was going on. The numbness and shock Bannon had felt was giving way to a sickening, sinking feeling. They had failed. The primary purpose of the U.S. Army in Europe was to prevent war. Deterrence. That's what was supposed to happen. But it had failed. Something terrible had gone wrong, and they had failed. Now they had to fight. They

were at war. And at that moment Bannon felt very alone, very unsure of himself, and very scared.

Reynolds turned and looked at Bannon. The colonel's face hadn't changed expression. If he were feeling the same things, he wasn't showing it. Reynolds studied Bannon for a moment, sensing the shock and uncertainty that showed on the captain's face. He had seen it before, in Vietnam, so Bannon's reactions didn't surprise him. "Well, Captain, let's see if those buckets of bolts you always brag about are worth the money the government spent on them.

Get your company in MOPP level II, stand by to occupy your fighting positions, and stay on the net, but don't call me unless you need to. I expect the cavalry will come screaming back through that passage point like a whipped dog. Be ready to cover them and get them out of the way as fast as you can. You got any questions?"

Bannon took in what the colonel was saying. What was there to question? This was what all the training was about. All their preparations were for this moment. Now all they had to do was put it into action. "No, sir, no questions."

"Well then, get moving and good hunting." Without waiting for a response, the colonel turned and began to move back to his jeep with a quick, purposeful pace. He did not look back.

Reynolds was setting the example, and he expected Bannon to follow it.

As Bannon turned back toward the PC where he had left the platoon leaders, a new series of artillery concentrations began to impact closer to the Team's positions. Additional Soviet artillery units were joining in, hitting the cavalry's rear positions. The latest series impacted just behind the hill on the other side of the valley. "Hell, the colonel could be cool and walk,"

Bannon thought. "This is my first war and I damn sure don't care about impressing anyone with my calm right now." He broke out into a slow run, weapon, protective mask, and canteen bouncing and banging against his body as he trotted through the trees to the PC.

As he neared the PC, Bannon could see the platoon leaders, Uleski, and the first sergeant watching the colonel's jeep go tearing down the logging trail, throwing up stones and disappearing in a cloud of dust. They had heard the jets and the artillery. Bannon slowed down to a walk, caught his breath, and moved up to them. All eyes turned to him.

"All right, this is it. The Russians are laying into the cavalry and when Ivan finishes with them, we're next. I want everyone in MOPP level II. Leave the nets over your tracks but clear them away from the front so that you can move forward into position quickly. First Sergeant, take the PC and fire team from the Mech Platoon that are designated to man the passage point and get down there. Lieutenant U, you'll stay up here with the ITVs and fight them with 2nd Platoon if necessary. I'm going to move my tank down to the right of 3rd Platoon and fight from there. Other than that, we do it the way we trained and planned. Stay off the air unless you have something really critical to report. Anyone have any questions?" He looked into each man's eyes, just as the colonel had done to him. He saw the same dark thoughts he had reflected in their expressions. Only the first sergeant, also a Vietnam vet, wore the stern, no-nonsense look he always did. For a few moments there was silence, broken only by the continuous crash and rumble of the artillery in the distance. "All right, let's move out and make it happen." Without waiting for a response, Bannon turned and began to walk towards his tank. As the colonel had done for him, he was setting the example for his people. He suspected that they would do the same with their tank commanders, and their TCs would, in turn, get their people moving. At least, that's what he hoped would be happening.