Team Yankee: a novel of World War III (6 page)

Modern war consumes ammunition, material, and, worst of all, men at a frightening rate.

Rapid-fire tank cannon coupled with a computerized fire control and laser range finders were capable of firing up to eight aimed rounds per minute at tank-sized targets at ranges in excess of 2000 meters. Guided munitions, fired from ground launchers or helicopters, had a better than ninety percent probability of hitting a target at 4000 meters. Soviet multiple rocket launchers could fire hundreds of rockets in a single volley and destroy everything within a one-by-one kilometer grid. Chemical agents produced by the Soviets were capable of penetrating exposed skin and attacking the body's nervous system, crippling the victim in seconds and killing him in minutes. All the implements of war had become more capable, more deadly. All were designed to rip, crush, cripple, dismember, incapacitate, and kill men faster and more efficiently. In all the armies arrayed across the continent, the only thing that technology had not improved was the ability of the human body to absorb punishment.

Such thoughts were disquieting. The mind, left free, tends to wander into what might be and what could happen, as frightening as the Ghost of Christmas to Come was to Scrooge. A diversion from these thoughts came from the east.

Two dots, growing rapidly into aircraft, came screaming toward the small valley from the east just as the others had this morning. Bannon hoped the Team would abide by the standard operating procedures, or SOP, and not engage them. With only machine guns, they stood little chance of hitting fast-moving jets. The only thing that would be accomplished by firing would be to give away the Team's positions.

A Stinger team somewhere in the cavalry's sector had no hesitation about engaging, however. Bannon watched as the white smoke trail of a Stinger surface-to-air antiaircraft missile raced up after the second jet. But it did not find its mark. The Soviet pilot dropped small flares and made a hard turn and dive. The missile detonated harmlessly in midair as the second jet turned to join the first, and both disappeared up the small valley. The ripping chainsaw-like report from a Vulcan 20-millimeter antiaircraft gun somewhere behind the Team's position revealed that problems for the Russian pilots were just starting. The air defense system was now alert and in action.

As if to underscore that point, two more dots emerged from the east. Apparently the Soviets liked this air approach and were sending their aircraft through four at a time. Their heavy use of the small valley cost them this time. Two Stinger missiles raced up to greet the Soviet jets. The pilot of the trail jet in this pair was not as quick or as lucky as the other pilots had been; one of the Stingers found its mark. The missile detonated, causing the jet to tumble over as if kicked from behind, then disintegrate in a rolling orange ball of fire. The first jet kicked in his afterburners, dropped lower, and kept flying west, to the waiting Vulcan. Kelp, who had been watching.the engagement, let out an "Ah, neat! Hey, Sarge, you missed it!"

as if he were

watching Fourth of July fireworks instead of the destruction of a pilot and a multimi11ion dollar aircraft. Kelp then described, in his own colorful way, the action to Folk. As Bannon reflected on Kelp's reaction, he, too, had to admit that it was kind of neat.

Announcement of plans to evacuate the dependents was on the TV before AFN went off the air the morning Sean had left. The radio station stayed on the air but didn't provide much information. About the only news the radio provided was the closing of the commissary and the PX and the movement of all U.S. families living off post onto U.S. installations. Pat Bannon prepared for their departure. Fran Wilson, the wife of the commander of Team Charlie, came over later in the morning. She had to be with someone. Fran had sat alone in her quarters waiting for word on when to leave and where to go. When word didn't come, she gave up and sought some company. Sitting alone with her fears and nothing to do but think about what was happening was driving her crazy-she needed someone to talk to and be with. Fran's coming caused Pat to remember that Sue Garger, the wife of one of Sean's platoon leaders, was still staying alone in a German gasthaus in town. The Gargers had been in country less than a month and were waiting for quarters. Pat had met Sue only once and was afraid that Sue might not have heard the news and, because she was new to the unit, might have been overlooked. She called the number listed for Garger on Sean's alert roster. A German answered. Pat's attempt to talk to him in her broken German amused Fran but finally got results. As they talked, Pat could tell that Sue was lonely and nervous. When Pat invited Sue to stay with her Sue jumped at the offer. Like Fran, fear and loneliness had made the deplorable situation worse for Sue. Leaving Fran to watch the children, Pat took off to pick up Sue.

At the entrance to the housing area there was an MP roadblock. Pat was halted and told she could not leave the area. She tried to explain to the MP that she had to pick up a wife that was living in town. The MP held his ground, insisting that she turn around and go back. Pat decided to escalate and told the private she wanted to speak to his superior. The MP went over to his sergeant and spoke to him a moment. The sergeant came over. "I'm sorry, miss, you can't go off post."

Pat was used to dealing with the military by now and seldom took no for an answer first time out. She had also learned that there were ways of dropping Sean's rank without being pushy or obvious. "Sergeant, like I explained to the other MP, the wife of one of my husband's platoon leaders is at a gasthaus in town and has no way of getting in. I'm simply going to get her. Now, unless you or your commander will go get her, I have to." The sergeant thought about it, then told Pat to wait while he checked with his platoon leader. After a few minutes, he came back and told her to go straight to the gasthaus, pick up the other wife, and come straight back. She was not to stop for anyone or anything else and she was to check back with him when she returned. The speech and precautions worried Pat and made her wonder if this was such a good idea. But she was committed, and Sue Garger was depending on her.

Even for the families of servicemen, the old Army rule of hurry up and wait applied. While Pat was gone, Cathy Hall had called and passed on the word that the evacuation probably would not start until the next day. The Air Force needed some additional time to gear up. To maintain the appearance

of

normalcy, preparations for the evacuation of dependents had been delayed to

the last possible moment. Some of the older wives compared the situation to

Iran, where the families were pulled out only at the last minute. Pat was not at all pleased that she and her children had been retained in this country just for appearances but kept her own council. No need to cry over spilt milk now.

As the day wore on and it became apparent that the families were not, in fact, going to go anytime soon, the wives began to visit each other and let the children out to play. Cathy Hall put out the word that she was going

to host a

potluck dinner for the battalion wives. Most of the wives, with children in tow, showed up.

Even though the conversations were guarded and there was a pall on the whole affair, anything was better than sitting alone and worrying. There was some comfort in collective misery.

By the end of the first day, Pat was physically and mentally exhausted. It seemed that so much depended on her now. With no husband to help her along, she felt uneasy and under pressure. Pressure to be mother and father. Pressure to set the example for Sue and the other wives. Pressure to make sure all was ready to go when the word came. Pressure to tend to the children and ease them through this crisis. Sean had always been around whenever there had been a big crisis in the family or a major decision to be made. But now he was gone and could not help with the biggest crisis Pat had ever faced. Having Sue Garger in the quarters helped. Sue had calmed down some and proved to be a big help with the children. But Sue was as lost as Pat was and still was learning about being in the Army.

So Pat bottled up her fears and apprehensions and continued to stumble along the dark and mapless trail that her family was going down, alone.

The second day dragged along like the first. AFN TV came back on but spent most of the time making public service announcements and broadcasting news that really didn't tell anyone anything. Rain in the afternoon only made the dark and apprehensive mood of the community worse. Word that evacuations would start momentarily kept circulating along with a blizzard of other rumors.

But it wasn't until that evening that official word and instructions for the evacuation of the community came down. It was like a vent had been opened to relieve some of the pressure.

At least now they knew what to do and when it would happen. For the sixth time in two days Pat went over the evacuation kit that had been sitting by the door. Blankets, food, water, cups, diapers, a small first-aid kit, a change of clothes for the boys, two for Sarah, a pocket knife, coloring books for the children, and other "essential" items.

It was telling the children that Pat dreaded the most. She had put this off for as long as possible in the hope that some sanity would prevail and the whole affair would blow over.

But there was no more putting it off. She assembled her children on Sean's bed and sat down with them. She told them that tomorrow they were going to leave Germany and visit Grandma's. Kurt was overcome with joy. He jumped up and down and began to ask what toys he could take. Sarah simply looked at Pat and tried to say Grandma, a word she had heard but could not associate with an object since she had never seen her grandparents.

As anticipated, Sean was the tough case. His first question was about his father, "Is Daddy coming with us?" "No, Daddy's not coming with us." .Why?"

"Daddy has to stay here and work. Remember I told you he went to the field? Well, he is still in the field with his company. He can't come with us this time."

"When will we see Daddy again?"

"Daddy will come and join us when he is finished in the field." "When will that be?"

Pat was fast becoming exasperated. The boy was concerned, and she felt sorry for him because all that was going on so dwarfed him. But the line of questions only heightened her own fears and apprehensions. Before she lost her restraint and began to cry, Pat cut short the question-andanswer period and told Sean that his father would be home as soon as he could. This didn't satisfy Sean, but it was the best Pat could do.

The morning continued with little change. The heat of the day was turning the tank into an oven. The chemical suits only made things worse. Bannon began to let two men out at a time to stretch, smoke, cool off, and eat. During his break he walked over to check on the 33

tank. The TC was also rotating his crew out. Just after noon, Polgar came over to 66 from Mech Platoon's mounted element to report. Bannon and Polgar were joined by the battalion command-

er and S-3, who came rolling up the logging trail in their M-113. Apparently, they were also bored and getting a little antsy with nothing to do but watch and wait. While the colonel went to visit his Mech Platoon on foot, the S-3, Maj. Frank Jordan, brought Bannon up to speed on the status of the covering force battle.

The cavalry was taking a beating and wouldn't last much longer. They had fought the first attacking echelon to a standstill and had badly weakened it. But they had paid for that success, as the parade of ambulances and evacuation of damaged vehicles, coming down the opposite hill through the village and down the small valley to the rear, indicated. Brigade was anticipating a passage of lines sometime in the late afternoon. The cavalry wanted to hold on until night in order to withdraw under the cover of darkness. But the bets were against them. The colonel rejoined the others, made some small talk, and then left with the S-3.

Rather than waiting out the afternoon doing nothing, Bannon decided to visit the platoons.

The battalion commander had just been by and it was going to be a while before the cavalry came through. This was as good a time as any to show his face, to check on the rest of the Team to see how they were adapting to war, and to pass the word to be prepared for the passage of the cavalry. He told Folk where he was going to be; if a call came in on the battalion net, Folk was to drop to the company net and tell the XO to respond if he hadn't already done so. With helmet, pistol, and LBE, Bannon started his tour.

As he had that morning, Bannon went from tank to tank, working his way to those elements on the left first. When he reached the 31 tank, Bannon went over the information that had been passed to him and reviewed the status of

3rd Platoon with Garger. Then they reviewed the Team's and the platoon's actions during the passage and the conduct of the defense. Bannon was pleasantly surprised to listen to Garger go over each phase of the pending action and line out clearly those actions required of his platoon. Either Pierson had been working overtime with the lieutenant or the boy was catching on. Regardless of how, at least he had the concept of the operation straight in his mind. There was still the question, however, of whether he could make it work.

Even in the shade of the forest, tromping up the hill in the chemical protective suit and the floppy, loose-fitting chemical overshoes was brutal. By the time Bannon reached Uleski's tank, he was beat and needed a

rest and a long drink of water. As he settled down in the shade next to 55, Uleski reached down and handed him a can of Coke, a cold can of Coke. Bannon had no idea where it could possibly have come from. He probably didn't want to know, either-something that good had to be illegal somehow. As he rested, Bannon went over not only the plan for the Team but also the battalion with Uleski. If he became combat ineffective, a subtle way of saying wounded or killed, Uleski, the XO, would have to be able to fight the Team within the framework of the battalion's battle plan as effectively as Bannon. In the Army, everyone was supposed to be expendable and replaceable. While it was not a comforting thought, it was part of the job and, in