Team Yankee

by Harold Coyle

  The turret of 66 suddenly jerked to the right as Folk yelled out an acquisition report without bothering to key the intercom. "ENEMY TANK-TWELVE O'CLOCK."

  "GUNNER-SABOT-TANK." Bannon dropped down to view through the commander's extension. He couldn't see the target.

  "UP! " "FIRE!"

  "ON THE WAAAY!"

  Tank 66 rocked back as the main gun went off. The view to the front was obstructed by the muzzle blast and dust it created.

  Folk yelled out his sensing of the round he had fired. "TARGET!"

  Bannon put his eye up to the extension and confirmed Folk's sensing. The enemy tank he had not seen before was now clearly visible as it burned. But he had a Team to run. He had no time to play tank commander right now. He had to let Folk search for his own targets and engage them when he found them. "CEASE FIRE-FIRE AND ADJUST."

  "ROMEO 25-THIS IS TANGO 77-ON LINE AND READY-OVER." 2nd Platoon was ready.

  "ROGER TANGO 77." "ROMEO 25-THIS IS ZULU 77-READY-OVER."

  "ROMEO 25-THIS IS MIKE 77-READY-OVER." The Mech and 3rd Platoons were ready. "SPLASH-OVER." The artillery.

  The hill that was Objective LOG appeared to lift up as the artillery impacted. Bits of trees and fountains of dirt rose up above the tree line.

  "BRAVO 3 ROMEO ELEMENTS-THIS IS ROMEO 25-MOVE-MOVE-MOVE! LIMA 61-KEEP THE ARTY COMING." As one, Team Yankee lurched forward. For the second time, 66 moved up over the stream bank.

  This time Ortelli had the accelerator to the floor. The tank flopped down on level ground with a bang and took off at a dead run. A line of three tanks and three PCs to the left of 66 were also out of the streambed and charging forward past the burning PC. The tank that had been to the right of 66 was stopped, half hanging out of the streambed. It was burning and shuddering as its on-board ammo blew up. Second Lieutenant McAlister was dead. The rest of the 2nd Platoon was out and rolling further to the right, firing as they moved. Folk yelled out again. "LOADER-LOAD SABOTTANK!" "UP! "

  "ON THE WAAAY!"

  Again 66 shuddered as the main gun fired, recoiled, and spewed out a spent shell casing.

  This time the obscuration didn't cling to the tank as 66 rolled through the dust cloud created by the muzzle blast. Bannon turned to see what Folk had been firing at but saw only a column of dirt. He had missed whatever it was. Not that it mattered. Another tank to the left got it. A brilliant flash and a shower of sparks marked the Soviet tank that had been Folk's target.

  A quick survey of Objective LOG revealed four burning vehicles of which two were definitely tanks. The other two were partially hidden but emitting billowing clouds of flames and black smoke. Freshly dug dirt was now visible just inside the tree line. There were Soviet infantrymen dug in on the objective. Bannon had no intention of fighting it out with the Soviets on LOG. He did not want to dismount the Mech Platoon in the open. "BRAVO 3 ROMEO-THIS IS ROMEO 25-THERE ARE DUG-IN TROOPS ON LOGWE WILL CONTINUE TO ATTACK THROUGH-DO NOT DISMOUNT OR STOP ON THE-"

  His transmission was cut short by two huge explosions on either side of 66. The tank bucked violently from side to side. He lost his footing and fell to the floor. Kelp reached down to help him as he struggled to climb back up into the commander's cupola. Kelp yelled over the engine noise, "ARE YOU OK?"

  "Yeah. Get ready to man your machine gun!"

  "Your face is bleeding."

  Bannon took one hand and touched his face. When he pulled it away there was blood on it.

  But it couldn't be too bad. He was still moving and talking. He had to regain control of the tank and the Team. With an effort, he boosted himself up and back into place.

  The scene outside was chaos. The explosions that had rocked 66 were from Soviet artillery.

  Tank 66 was on the verge of rolling out of the impact area. To the right there were still two tanks moving. One of the 2nd Platoon tanks was several hundred meters to the rear; just sitting there. The FIST track was also gone. To the left there were also two tanks still moving and closing up on 66. The missing 3rd Platoon tank was nowhere to be seen. The Mech Platoon PCs were falling behind and, as a result, were still in the middle of where the Soviet artillery was impacting. Bannon could make out only two PCs bobbing and weaving through the columns of flame and dirt. Seven vehicles. That's all the Team had left.

  Seven out of fourteen vehicles.

  "TROOPS-TWELVE O'CLOCK! ENGAGING WITH COAX!"

  Folk's call pulled Bannon's attention back to the front. They were now within three hundred meters of the objective. Several Soviet infantrymen had popped up to engage them head-on with RPGs. The total stupidity of that was beyond comprehension. They were now being cut down by the machine-gun fire from 66 and the surviving tanks without being able to hurt the tracks. An RPG just wasn't going to stop an M-l head-on, regardless of how brave the gunner was. Tank commanders began to cut loose with the caliber .50, spraying rounds in wild arcs and patterns and, in general, adding to the mayhem. An American tank would fire an occasional HEAT round, adding to the effect of the friendly artillery that was still impacting on LOG. In another minute, the four tanks that were still with 66 would be on the obj ective.

  The destruction of their tanks, the steady artillery fire, and the failure of their RPG gunners to stop the rush of Team Yankee were too much for the survivors. Just as the Team was about to enter the tree line, individual Soviet troops began to flee to the rear. To the right of 66, a hidden Soviet BTR-60 personnel carrier began to back up, seeking to escape. But its movement gave it away, and it was destroyed by a 2nd Platoon tank. Kelp was up on his machine gun, firing at individual Soviet soldiers as they fled helter-skelter to get out of the way.

  Just as 66 entered the tree line, a lone Soviet soldier rose up out of a trench not twenty meters to the right of 66 and aimed an RPG straight at Bannon. He panicked. He tried to traverse the M2 to the right to engage the Soviet but he knew in his heart he wouldn't make it in time. The Russian calmly took aim and prepared to fire. He knew he had 66 and there wasn't a damned thing Bannon could do to stop him.

  But luck hadn't given out yet. The Russian was suddenly kicked backwards as a stream of machine-gun rounds hit him in his chest. A 2nd Platoon tank had come up, seen the RPG gunner, and fired. The relief Bannon felt was incredible. For the second time in a matter of minutes, 66 had been saved by the slimmest of margins.

  The Soviet lieutenant watched the American tanks rumble by. He was overwhelmed by alternating rushes of fear, anger, and helplessness. All their efforts had been for nothing. The American tanks had ripped through his position as if he hadn't been there.

  Catching his breath, the lieutenant began to survey the scene. Some of his men were coming up from the bottoms of their foxholes. Looking back over the field to his front, he saw several personnel carriers closing on his positions. "Well," he thought out loud, "if we can't kill the tanks, we'll kill the American infantry." With that, he grabbed an RPG from a dead man and bounded over to some of his men to rally them and continue the fight.

  The five tanks of Team Yankee were now in a staggered line moving forward through the woods. Friendly artillery had stopped falling, probably as a result of a call from Team Bravo.

  After entering the woods a hundred meters, the tanks lost contact with the Soviets. There was also no sign of any other positions. Bannon decided to stop and wait for the Mech Platoon. "ALL BRAVO 3 ROMEO ELEMENTS THAT ARE WITH ME-STOP AND FORM A COIL–I SAY AGAIN-STOP AND FORM A COIL-WE WILL WAIT FOR THE ZULU 77 ELEMENT TO CLOSE UP OVER."

  The other tanks did not slow down. Bannon called again but got no response. The radio was keying, but for some reason the other tanks were not hearing his transmissions. Instead of stopping, they were, in fact, beginning to speed up. He called a third time with no luck. To make matters worse, artillery began to fall on them. He assumed it was Soviet but couldn't tell. This caused the other TCs to crouch low in their cupolas and orient to their front as they directed their drivers. Ortelli kept twisting through the woods, alternately trying to avoid artillery
and pick a trail through the trees.

  As the tanks emerged from the far side of the woods, 66 suddenly slid to the right and stopped with a violent jerk that knocked Kelp and Bannon over to the right. As they tried to regain balance, Ortelli gunned the engine. But 66 did not move. Bannon stuck his head out and saw that they had slid sideways into a shell hole. Ortelli tried again to drive out but failed. They were stuck. And to his front, Bannon watched the last of Team Yankee's tanks, all four, continue to roll on toward Hill 214, Objective LINK.

  CHAPTER SIX

  On the Razor's Edge

  "Lay off the accelerator, Ortelli. We aren't going anywhere that way. You may be making it worse."

  Kelp and Folk turned and stared at Bannon wide-eyed and fearful. Ortelli's face, no doubt, was no different. They were waiting for their commander's next brilliant idea. "Why me?"

  Bannon thought. "Why in the hell me?" He felt lost. He had managed to lose half the Team and get 66 stuck in an artillery barrage in the middle of a battle. Now his crew was looking at him expecting him to come up magically with the right answer. Maybe there was no right answer this time. Then again, maybe there was. "Right. Listen up. I'm going to go out and see how bad off we are. Kelp, cover me with your machine gun if you can. Sergeant Folk, be ready to give me a hand if I need you. Clear?"

  They both nodded their heads. Bannon turned and opened the TC's hatch all the way and stuck his head out to check the situation. The 66 was just on the edge of the artillery-beaten zone. Another twenty to thirty meters and they would have been in the clear. So much for luck.

  He ducked down, turned to Kelp, and asked if he were ready. Kelp's eyes were wide open and his face drawn in fear. But he was standing ready to leap into position when Bannon gave the word. He simply nodded yes. "Alright, let's go." With that, Bannon jumped out of the TC's hatch, rolled down the side of the turret, and dropped to the ground. The drop was more than he had anticipated. He landed on his side with a thud, knocking his wind out.

  As he lay there struggling to get his breath back, he looked around. The neat German forest was now ripped and pockmarked by the artillery fire. Branches and trees were thrown askew and broken. Artillery rounds continued to impact around 66. Every now and then there would be a zing or a ping as a shell fragment from a near miss flew through the air or hit the tank. Bannon quickly became motivated to get on with his inspection. The track he was lying next to was still on all the road wheels and the drive sprocket. They hadn't thrown a track.

  Thank God for small miracles. He crawled along the track as close as he could for safety.

  He wanted to look between the road wheels. The other track was also on. When he reached the rear of the tank, he found mounds of loose dirt the tracks had been building up to their rear. Both tracks had obviously been spinning free. As he crawled around to the rear of the tank and looked under the hull, he could see the problem. The tank was hung up on a shattered tree that was still partially connected to its stump. As 66 had maneuvered through the forest, it had straddled the shattered tree and driven itself up onto the stump. To make matters worse, there was a shell crater to the right of the tank that the right track had dropped into just as 66 had bellied out on the stump.

  The solution to their problem was not going to be simple. If there was another tank around, it would have been easy to hook tow cables to the two tanks and pull 66 off. But all the remaining tanks had run off to Objective LINK. They could sit and wait. Eventually, if the rest of the battalion came along, a tank in Team Bravo or an M-88 recovery vehicle could pull 66 off. But it seemed just as likely that the Russians would show up. Besides, Bannon was the team commander. He had to get back with the Team and regain control, even though the Team was now nothing more than a reinforced platoon. Also, simply sitting there and waiting to see what happened next was not his style. A solution had to be found. Throwing dirt under the tracks would do no good. The tracks would simply pile it up onto the mounds of dirt they were already building. It was too late to back out. Ortelli had hit the tree at a charge and driven 66 up onto it. Something substantial had to be shoved under the right track so that it could rise up and let the hull clear the stump. But to do that would have required all of them to haul tree trunks and other rubble over to 66. The artillery would surely get some of them. Bannon tried hard to remember what he had been taught at Fort Knox during the Basic Course in the vehicle recovery class. Why in the hell didn't I pay attention to what was going on in that class instead of kicking dirt clods and bullshitting at the rear of the group, he thought. The instructors had always said,

  "Someday this may save your life." Today was that day, but he couldn't remember the technique. There was something they could do but he wasn't sure if he remembered it all.

  What the hell, maybe it would come back as he went along. Something had to be done fast.

  He climbed back up on the tank, staying as low and as near to the turret as possible. "Sergeant Folk, get out here now." As Folk was climbing out, Bannon pulled a hammer from a sponson box and threw it to the ground on the right side of the tank. Bannon then had Folk help get the tow cables off. The two men crouched down as they worked to free one tow cable, throw it to the ground near the hammer, then free the other cable and throw it down on the other side.

  They then leaped off the right side and took cover. While they lay down on the ground next to the track, Bannon explained what they were going to do. The plan was to hook the tow cables together in front of the tank. They would then wrap the cables around the two tracks at the front of the tank so that the tow cables stretched from one track to the other. When Ortelli put 66 in forward gear, the tracks would move the cables back along the ground. In the process, the cables would catch on the stump. Hopefully, as the tracks continued to try to pull the cables back, they would stay caught on the stump and pull 66 forward and off the stump and tree. The plan was worth a shot.

  Bannon took the hammer and used it to get the tow hooks off the front and back of 66 while Folk dragged the two cables to the front, crawling on his hands and knees and staying as close to the tank as he could. They used one of the tow hooks to connect the cables together. Then they wrapped one end of the cables around the track on the left side and used a second tow hook to connect the loop formed around the track, doing the same on the right side. Bannon put the fourth hook and hammer to the side in case a hook broke and a second try was needed. Folk got back in 66.

  From the outside, Bannon signaled to Folk, who had Ortelli put the tank in low gear and slowly apply power. The cables were dragged under and caught on the stump as expected.

  As they caught, Ortelli applied more power. The slack in the cables was taken out, and they became taut. For a moment the tracks stopped and the engine began to strain. Bannon hoped the hooks could stand the pressure and not snap. If the scheme worked, 66 would be free. Ortelli continued to apply power slowly. The tank began to inch forward, moaning and screeching as the hull scraped across the stump. The cables held. The 66 continued to move and rise up over the stump. Once the tank's center of gravity was past the stump, the front of 66 flopped down. The tracks bit into the ground, and 66 began to roll forward on its own. Bannon signaled to Folk to have Ortelli stop. He crawled to the rear, disconnected the cables from around the tracks, then climbed back on. They were going to leave the hooks and cables behind. With luck, someone could get them later. There were far more important things to do, including getting out from under the Soviet artillery.

  As Bannon was climbing back into the commander's cupola, he noticed for the first time that 66 had lost its antennas. Both were sheared off at the base. That explained why the other four tanks had not stopped when he had called them. The last order the Team had heard from him was to keep moving and not stop. Apparently, they had thought that he wanted them to keep going all the way to Hill 214. When they couldn't contact him, they simply carried on with the last order they had received. As 66 began to roll off the hill that had been Objective LOG, Bannon wondered how
much that misunderstanding had cost the Team. Clausewitz called it the friction of war. Some called it Murphy's law. Right now, the thought of losing what was left of the Team to a simple misunderstanding was devastating: Sixteen men and four tanks lost because a damned antenna was broken.

  Once in the open and out from under the Soviet artillery fire, Bannon had Ortelli move as fast as they could go. He had to find out if there were any tanks in the Team still on Hill 214. If there were, he would be able to contact battalion and find out what everyone else was doing and what the colonel wanted the Team to do. Not that there was much left to do anything with. If battalion couldn't be contacted, then the ball was back in his court. He had to decide what to do with the surviving tanks. Bannon was fast becoming tired of making these decisions. They were too expensive in terms of men and equipment. He wondered what he would lose first, the Team or his nerve.

  Movement to Bannon's right diverted his attention. Three Soviet T-62 tanks were moving north on an intersecting course with 66. They must have come out of Lemm and were headed to hit the tanks on Hill 214 in the rear. Bannon grabbed the TC's override and jerked it over as far as he could, swinging the turret toward the threat. "GUNNER-SABOT-3 TANKS!"

  Kelp dropped down and yelled, "HEAT LOADEDUP!"

  The last round Kelp had put in the chamber had been a HEAT round. Not as good as a SABOT round when fighting a tank, but it would do. There was no time to switch ammunition.

  "IDENTIFIED!" The gunner had acquired the targets and was ready to take over. Bannon let the override go. At the same instant, the lead T-62 began to traverse its turret toward 66.