Sword Point

by Harold Coyle

  Satisfied that he and his men were clear of the mine field, he signaled the platoon to follow.

  It took them an hour to cover the two or more kilometers between the mine field they had left and an antitank ditch that blocked their way.

  As before, Duncan crawled forward and checked it out. It could be Russian or the beginning of the Americans' barriers. With the platoon following, Duncan moved slowly along the edge. When they found the end of the ditch and began to go around, Duncan probed for mines. Finding none, he led the men on until he saw what appeared to be the outline of a fighting position.

  Slowly he crept forward. There was no sign of movement. When he reached the edge of the hole, he carefully peered over. There were two men in the hole.

  Both were asleep. In the faint light, he could make out an M-16 rifle.

  They had made it. The long nightmare was over.

  Former Iranian Naval Hospital, Bandar Abbas, Iran 1540 Hours, 26 July (1210 Hours, 26 July, GMT)

  Her excuse that she needed to ask more questions of the sergeant from the 12th Infantry Division who had infiltrated from Rafsanjan was very transparent. Everyone in the 2nd Brigade headquarters knew that Lieutenant Matthews' real objective was her wounded scout-platoon leader. The brigade XO let her go, however. He reasoned that she needed the break. Since the loss of the brigade S-2, she had been working harder than any two people in the TOC. The results of her efforts showed. Matthews and her section produced intelligence that kept the units in the brigade one step ahead of the Soviets and allowed the commander to make effective plans and decisions.

  It would do little harm to let her go while there was a break in the action.

  As anxious as she was to see him, Matthews became apprehensive as she approached the ward where Capell was. She had been told by Major Dixon that he had been severely burned over much of his body when his Bradley was hit.

  The burns, along with wounds from on-board ammo going off and several broken bones, had nearly killed him. That he lived, according to Dixon, was only due to the fact that Capell was either too stubborn or too dumb to die. Meant to cheer her up, this only increased her fears.

  She knew Capell would still be the same person inside. She knew it wasn't his fault that he had been wounded. What she didn't know was how she would react when she saw him. Nor did she know whether she could look at him and love him as she did before. She told herself that it didn't matter what he looked like so long as he was alive, but she knew that that was a lie.

  Prepared for facing Capell, regardless of what he looked like, she entered the ward. Instead of being full of patients, the room was full of empty bunks with their mattresses turned up. The only person in the room was a soldier mopping the floor with soapy water that smelled of disinfectant.

  She called to him, "Excuse me, but is this Ward Four B?"

  The soldier turned around and saw her for the first time. "Sorry, ma'am, didn't see ya. Yes, this is Four B, but ain't no one here anymore. They all got shipped out this mornin'."

  "Damn!" she mumbled. "Do you know when they took them to the airfield?"

  "Didn't go to the airfield. There's a hospital ship in the harbor.

  Started takin' 'em out after breakfast this mornin'. Could be they're still there."

  Seizing any chance to see Randy, she thanked the soldier for his help and ran down to the hummer she had come down to Bandar Abbas in. She directed the driver to head for the docks and see if he could find out where they were loading the hospital ship. The sergeant who was riding shotgun warned her they needed to be heading back. He didn't want to be on the road alone after dark. Looking at her watch, she told him they had plenty of time.

  Without further discussion on the matter, she ordered the driver to move out.

  Their entrance into the dock area took far longer than expected.

  Equipment from a newly arrived unit was being moved from there to its marshaling area outside Bandar Abbas. As she waited impatiently in the hummer watching a column of National Guard Bradleys go by, she was struck by the apparent difference in age between the men in the Guard unit and those in Capell's battalion. No doubt they knew what they were doing. Perhaps, she thought, older men would be less impetuous and more cautious, unlike Randy.

  Once the hummer had been admitted, it raced down the line of piers, weaving between crates and vehicles just offloaded. It was stopped once by a Navy shore patrolman who cautioned the driver to slow down and provided directions to the pier where the hospital ship had been tied up. That pier, however, was empty when they arrived. In the distance, the white hospital ship could be seen moving out to the open sea.

  Disappointed and struggling to hold back her tears, Matthews ordered the driver to turn around and head back. The sergeant suggested that they stay in Bandar Abbas for the night, but she did not hear him. Her mind was on other things. At least, she thought, Randy was safe. When the current mess in Iran was over, they would have plenty of time together.

  Movement from the docks into the unit's staging area went without a hitch.

  Some of the officers had been worried that the men would have problems moving the equipment after being away from it for several weeks. The battalion XO, Major Ed Lewis, laughed. "What are you talking about?

  Back home we meet once a month and get to use our equipment once every two months, maybe three. Then we march off to summer camp and expect our people to hop in and drive away. Why should this be any different?"

  It was different, however, and Lewis knew it. Summer camp, as annual training was still called by many, lasted only two weeks, then they all went home to their families and their civilian jobs. No one had any idea how long the war in Iran would last. Some thought they would be there only a few months. Others brought up the fact that they were committed for the duration-however long that was-and a year.

  Regardless of how long the war and their commitment to the federal government lasted, even the most optimistic among them knew that some would not return home. The loading of a hospital ship that morning served as a reminder to them that they were actually entering an active war zone.

  Upon arriving in the marshaling area, Lewis met up with his battalion commander and the S-3, both of whom had gone up to the headquarters of the 25th Armored Division the previous day to receive an operations order, while Lewis had been left with the job of supervising the offloading and marshaling of men and equipment. The three officers now met at the dock and watched before they went to the battalion TOC, then in the final stages of being set up, and sat before the S-3 situation map. As the S-3 read the order out loud, Master Sergeant Kenneth Mayfree, the operations sergeant, posted the operational graphics on the map. Once the battalion had assembled and completed arming and refueling, it was to move from its current location to a tactical assembly area south of Saadatabad. There it would become part of the 25th Armored Division's 3rd Brigade. The three officers had expected to join the 2nd Brigade, the active-component brigade they had normally trained with. The nature of the operation, however, required a large counterattack force, of which the 2nd Battalion of the 354th Mech Tennessee National Guard was now part.

  All three men accepted their mission with a feeling of relief. By being in reserve, they and their company commanders would have more time to prepare their men and units for battle. Training in the marshaling area and the tactical assembly area, while limited, was better than none. The prospect of rolling off the ship right into combat had haunted them for the past three weeks. While they did not underestimate the difficulties they would face, at least they would not have to face a battle hardened Soviet army their first day in the country. Every day they had in which to prepare and train increased their odds of success.

  Headquarter, 10th Corps, Qotbabad, Iran 1650 Hours, 26 July (1320 Hours, 26 July, GMT)

  Lieutenant General Weir reviewed the information papers and reports before going into the 1700 hours briefing. Shortly after he assumed control of the 13th Corps, he had been appointed overall comma
nder of all ground forces in Iran by the Commander in Chief of CENT COM While this meant more work for Weir and his staff, it simplified the coordination of operations between the 1st Marine Corps in the east and the two Army corps in Kerman Province to the south.

  The briefing that evening was an important one. Decisions made during it would shape the next round of operations. The corps G-3 was going to present the revised operations plan for the upcoming campaign. While the U.S. situation had improved tremendously in the past two weeks, they were still far from ready to assume offensive operations. All the reports pointed to the fact that the Soviets, despite the best efforts of the Air Force and Special Forces to interdict the flow of supplies, would be ready to commence their offensive before the 10th Corps was completely assembled. It was simply a matter of time, space and numbers. The Soviets, at the end of a shorter supply line, were able to make good their losses and deficiencies faster than the U.S. forces in Iran could. In addition, the number of heavy ground-combat units available to the 10th Corps was limited, while the Soviets had many. In fact, the Soviets had more heavy divisions in Iran at that moment than the U.S. Army had throughout the world.

  With the writing on the wall, the 10th Corps had no choice but to accept the Soviet offensive before commencing their own. This, however, was not all bad. Properly done, the 10th Corps could channel the Soviets into those areas where Weir wanted the Soviets to go, bleeding them all the way and setting them up for a counter blow Once the Soviets' main effort was identified and contained, the 10th Corps could pile on and destroy it. With the Soviets broken and weak points uncovered, the 10th Corps could then launch its own offensive in conjunction with the 13th Corps, now recovering, and the newly formed 1st Marine Corps operating to the east.

  Not all was bleak. Weir had a few aces up his sleeve. One of them was the British 33rd Armored Brigade. That brigade was ready for commitment.

  Through a great deal of effort and deception, the brigade had been "smuggled" into Iran. Though the world knew that the British were committed to send troops, a sham movement of forces and troops kept the media occupied while the 33rd Armored Brigade was brought into Iran on U.S. ships, then moved in small groups at night and assembled in the forward areas. Weir was betting that the psychological impact of the sudden and unexpected appearance in Iran of ground forces from a NATO ally would give the Soviets great concern and cause them to question their intelligence analysis. The French Airborne Division, operating with the 6th Marine Division, had, by accident, had that effect. Weir intended to hold the 33rd Armored Brigade back, using it at the right moment to kick off his counter blow the first step to the counteroffensive that would, with luck, smash the Soviet forces then facing them in the central area.

  Weir's aide came in and told him the staff was ready. As Weir was leaving his office, he looked at the map on the wall. "Well, Ted," he said to the aide, "what it all boils down to is that we've got to keep the enemy from breaking through and wear him out without him doing the same to the 10th Corps. Pretty neat trick if we can do it. I sure hope the 25th Armored can pull it off."

  Moscow, USSR 1620 Hours, 26 July (1320 Hours, 26 July, GM')

  The shock of returning from the front to Moscow was overpowering.

  Colonel Sulvina had expected things to be different. He wasn't quite sure what should have changed, but surely something had to be different. After all, the Soviet Union was locked in battle with the United States. Yet as the Army sedan moved through the streets of the city, he saw no change.

  People still came and went to work. Women queued up to buy everyday necessities.

  Grandmothers walked babies and watched as children played in the parks.

  Even the radio news, what little Sulvina heard, treated the war as just another news story.

  Less than twenty-four hours before, Sulvina had been ordered to appear at the Moscow headquarters of STAVKA, the General Staff of the Red Army, concerning his written report on the operations of the 28th Combined Arms Army. That report, forwarded to Front Headquarters and STAVKA before the army's new commander had arrived, had been disturbing to both. It was to have been sent back to Sulvina to be rewritten. Instead, someone had forwarded a copy to a member of the Politburo. Rumors were that it was a STAVKA officer working for the KGB who had done that in an effort to discredit the Red Army and its conduct of operations in Iran. Now Sulvina, after a grueling session at STAVKA, was on his way to answer to the Politburo.

  Colonel Sulvina was not politically naive. He understood the State and the system. He was, after all, part of 345 it. He was, however, a soldier, first and foremost.

  Schooled in all aspects of military science, with years of command and general-staff experience, Sulvina believed that it was his duty to keep his commander and higher headquarters informed of the situation as it really existed, not as they wished it to be. He had been taught from his first year as a cadet that commanders can make the proper decisions only if they have good, accurate information. It was in that vein that he had written his report. Not to blame or condemn, or to record excuses. Sulvina wanted to record what had happened so that corrections could be made before the next offensive.

  His debriefing at STAVKA that morning had been a rude shock. Only slowly had he realized that some saw his report as a threat to them and their position, while others saw it as "the whimperings of a man unfit for a position of great responsibility." When he was told personally by a Marshal of the Soviet Union to answer only yes or no to all questions of the Politburo, Sulvina knew he was on trial for telling the "wrong" truth.

  For two hours Sulvina sat in a chair in the center of a room. Before him sat the eleven Politburo members who ran the Soviet Union. They alone determined national policy. They alone decided how the Soviet Union would achieve its national goals, goals which they established.

  Each member had before him a copy of the report. Each member, with the exception of the Foreign Minister, asked Sulvina questions, most of which skirted the real issues at hand. Diligently, Sulvina answered their questions with either yes or a no. The questioning was punctuated by discussions, sometimes heated, between the members as some of the senior members became annoyed at the cat-and-mouse game.

  Finally, the Foreign Minister dropped the report, folded his hands before him and said, "We have all read the report, Comrade Colonel. We have all asked you many questions. I want you now, Comrade Colonel, to tell me in your own words what happened."

  The General Secretary, visibly upset, leaned forward and glared at the Foreign Minister, but could not get his attention. Failing that, the General Secretary turned to face Sulvina.

  Sweat ran down Sulvina's face. His eyes turned to the Minister of Defense.

  The Minister of Defense returned the stare. Looking back to the Foreign Minister, Sulvina replied, "Comrade, the report before you is my own words. It is what I believe to be the truth." Sulvina did not look again at the Minister of Defense.

  The Foreign Minister said after a moment, "Yes, of course. Now, Comrade Colonel, what must we, the Politburo, do to prevent another disaster such as this from happening?"

  Sulvirta was taken aback by the term "disaster." Without realizing it, he went into the attack. "Comrade, there was no disaster. The actions of the commander of the 28th Combined Arms Army prevented a disaster. We merely withdrew so that we could regroup, resupply and reestablish conditions that favored the resumption of the offensive and the seizure of the Strait of Hormuz. A setback, yes. A disaster, no."

  For a long time, there was silence in the room. Then the Foreign Minister asked the question again, in a harsher tone this time. "What must we do to prevent another disaster, Comrade Colonel?"

  Sulvina considered the question before continuing. For a moment he wavered in his convictions. Then he decided that if there was nothing he could do to save himself, perhaps he could do something to help those who would soon have to face the same situation he had faced.

  "First, Comrade, we must employ chemical weapons. The Am
ericans have little in the way of retaliatory capability. Even if they assume a fully protective posture, which they will, the heat casualties from wearing the protective clothing will be just as devastating to their efficiency as would losses to the chemical agents employed. Our troops, better trained, equipped and used to working in a chemical environment, will have a great advantage. Next, we must mass all combat power in Iran. If insufficient forces are available in the country, they must come from the reserves if necessary. Finally, we must strike at the source of American supplies. The war zone at sea must include the entire Indian Ocean, the Mediterranean, the Red Sea and the Atlantic. It does us no good to wait until they reach Iran to kill them."

  Again there was a long silence. This time the Foreign minister smiled when he broke it. "You must understand, Comrade Colonel, there are certain political realities that come into play at the strategic level. We cannot use chemical weapons. We know the Americans' limitations in that area, but if we did use such weapons the entire world would condemn us. Even those who support us now in the United Nations would be reluctant to continue that support. Nor can we afford to spread the conflict without endangering our interests in other areas. To do so could push America's reluctant allies into the conflict. And you know as well as I that the economy cannot sustain a large-scale mobilization. So, given those realities, what can we do?"

  The General Secretary, agitated by the discussion, nonetheless allowed the Foreign Minister to continue his game. The colonel, after all, was expendable. Perhaps, if the Foreign Minister played out his fool's hand, he would discredit himself and give the General Secretary sufficient cause to replace him.