He had a hell of a headache and was not about to wander up and down the docks looking for a ship that might not even be there. Besides, whether it was there or not made no difference. The unit had already secured enough tanks and Bradleys to reach full
TOE
strength.
Perhaps, someday, if he survived this campaign, he would look it up in a history book and see whatever became of the Cape Fear.
Headquarters, 13th Airborne Corps, in Bandar Abbas, Iran 2105 Hours, 30 June (1735 Hours, 30 June,
GMT
)
Since his arrival in the country, Lieutenant General Weir had been greeted with one shock after another. He had come ahead to study the situation and prepare himself and his staff for when the 10th Corps headquarters was activated and assumed operational control of its subordinate units. His arrival, however, could not have come at a worse time. He was able to observe the collapse of the 13th Corps’s defensive perimeter firsthand. A current situation update given to him before leaving Washington had not prepared him for what he found and in no way matched reality as viewed from
Bandar Abbas.
Tactically, the situation was, at best, desperate. The corps had been deployed almost haphazardly as its subordinate units arrived in the country. The 52nd Infantry, Division (Mechanized) had only its two active-duty brigades. That division, last to arrive, was deployed in the west, sent there because the main Soviet threat had appeared to be coming from that direction. It was now obvious that that threat had been a grand deception to draw the 13th Corps’s attention away from the true main effort. Unfortunately, the 52nd Division was now too heavily committed and was unable to break contact without endangering the entire defensive perimeter.
The 17th Airborne Division, first in, was deployed in the east. After it had secured the initial airhead and pushed it out as far as Tarom, the follow-on division, the 12th Division, had leapfrogged over it and assumed responsibility for the center. The 17th Airborne had reassembled, rested and then redeployed two brigades with the mission of linking up with the 6th Marine Division operating out of Chah Bahar, but could maintain only very tenuous contact because of the vast distances between the two units.
The third brigade of the 17th had been held in reserve by 13th Corps at
Saadatabad, ready to respond to a penetration at any point or deal with
Iranian guerrillas.
The penetration that came on 28 June had been against the 12th Division.
Two Soviet divisions, one motorized rifle and one tank, reinforced with additional assets from -the 28th Combined Arms Army, formed the main effort that hit at Rafsanjan. A motorized rifle division moving through the
Zagros Mountains had been responsible for conducting deception operations and supporting attacks against the 52nd Infantry Division.
While the 52nd was able to hold its own, trading ground for time, the 12th had, after two days of combat, ceased to exist as a combat-effective division. Of nine infantry battalions assigned to the division, four had been overrun on the first day of the attack and had not been heard of since. Two had been cut off and encircled. Two of the remaining three battalions had been mauled as they attempted to fight a delaying action at
Pariz on the road that led from Rafsanjan to Bandar Abbas. An assault at
Kerman had crippled the division’s combat-aviation brigade, destroying many of its helicopters and most of the maintenance and support units required to maintain them. While the rest of the division base, consisting of the headquarters, supply and maintenance units and engineer and air-defense units, remained relatively intact, the combat elements were gone.
The Air Force was committing everything it had in an effort to sever the
Soviet advance from its lines of communication. Strikes against the Soviets’ supply lines and identified supply dumps were run round the clock.
The Soviets, however, anticipating such an effort, had reduced the number of ground-combat units committed to the bare minimum and used all the air-defense units from uncommitted units to cover their lines of communication. The smaller number of units required fewer supplies, and the roads needed to move those supplies along were better protected. As a result, the efforts of the Air Force had yielded few tangible results in comparison to a high cost -in lost aircraft and pilots.
On the ground, the corps reserve had been committed, but in a piecemeal fashion. Since it was clear that the paratroopers would not be able to stop the advancing Soviet columns, company-sized units were being inserted by helicopter along the Soviets’ main axis of advance, to conduct anti armor ambushes, a form of delaying action. The idea was to establish a roadblock with mines and craters under cover of darkness. When the Soviets hit the barrier, they were attacked with antitank guided missiles launched from covered and concealed positions. The company was then evacuated by helicopter before the Soviets were able to turn on the ambushers in force.
Done properly, it was an effective method of delaying an enemy. But it only delayed them. To stop and defeat the Soviets, heavy forces-tanks and
Bradleys-were needed. That was where the 25th Armored Division, and particularly the 2nd Brigade, came in.
What disturbed Weir more than the tactical situation, grim as it was, was the state of despair that permeated the corps staff. The commander of the 13th Corps, once a boastful and somewhat arrogant man, always in charge, had said barely two words throughout the entire evening update briefing.
When Weir asked him directly what his intentions were concerning the employment of the 25th Armored Division, he had looked at Weir rather absentmindedly and said, “I’m not sure. We’re going to have to study that some,” then turned and walked away to his office. There was the smell of defeat in the air throughout the headquarters of the 13th Corps. Because of this, Weir fought orders that temporarily attached the 25th Armored
Division to that corps.
Weir contacted the Commander in Chief of
CENT
COM
, demanding that the 10th Corps be activated immediately. The
CINC
listened to Weir’s recommendations but decided that it was unwise to change commanders and headquarters in the middle of the battle. The
CINC
wanted the situation to stabilize before he commit ted the 10th Corps so that he could use it to conduct a counteroffensive. To commit the entire corps to the defense would mean pissing away his only viable offensive ground-maneuver force. Weir countered that unless the 10th Corps was committed, there would be no ground left to conduct the counteroffensive over. While the
CINC
was willing to let some of the 10th Corps units join the battle in progress in order to stabilize the situation, he didn’t want to lose them all in defensive operations. The bulk of the 10th
Corps, in the meantime, would stay out of the battle and assemble in the rear.
For a while, Weir considered going straight to his friend Lieutenant General Horn, then decided against it. Going over the head of his immediate commander could lead to his dismissal. The last thing Weir wanted to do was get thrown out of the war before he got into it.
South of Rafsanjan 2345 Hours, 30 June (2015 Hours, 30 June,
GMT
) The grinding of gears and the laboring of truck engines in the distance were the only noises that penetrated the cool night air. A heavily laden supply column led by a Soviet
BRDM
armored car en route to the front was slowly making its way up an incline. In another two minutes the column would come to a bend in the road just before it crested the hill. There it would be met by Sergeant First Class Duncan and the men of the 1st Platoon.
After escaping the Soviet onslaught, Duncan had rallied his men and taken them into hiding a few kilometers away. There he took stock of what he had.
That wasn’t very much. Seventeen men had followed him out of the foxholes.
They brought with them their individual weapons, a couple of dozen hand grenades, some claymore nines, eight
LAW
antitank-rocket launchers and two
Dragon missiles. Food was almost nonexistent, and they had only the water in their canteens. The one thing that the platoon had plenty of was 5.56mm. ammo for their rifles and squad automatic rifles, or SAWs.
As Duncan was checking, it became obvious that none of the men, including him, had fired a rifle. There simply had not been any targets that small-arms fire would have had an effect on.
The first major problem Duncan faced was getting his men over the shock of the disaster they had just survived. Once out of danger, they fell into a state of despondency. One man kept asking no one in particular,
“What hap202
pened? What in the hell happened?” over and over. Duncan himself was bewildered and in a stupor. The image of his lieutenant’s body still caused a violent reaction. Never having been confronted with a situation of the magnitude he now faced, Duncan did what came naturally to him, what he had been trained for: being a soldier and a leader.
First he organized his group into two squads and distributed equally all the weapons, ammunition and food: That done, he got the men together and told them what they were going to do. He did not ask for opinions, he did not ask for a vote. As far as he was concerned, there was no alternative for them. They would fight. Duncan was honest with his men. There was no false bravado, there were no promises. The men watched and listened intently as he told them that they would move south, paralleling the road the Soviets were using. When the opportunity presented itself, they would ambush convoys or small patrols. Duncan made it clear that they were going to fight whenever and wherever they could get the drop on the Russians. He held the hope that they would be able to make their way back to their own lines, but stressed that that was only a hope.
The men accepted Duncan’s decision in silence. That night there was no further discussion on the matter. They were at war. They were soldiers,
American soldiers, renowned for their ability to do things that defied logic. In the tradition of Valley Forge, the Alamo, New Market and the
Bulge, the men of 1st Platoon followed their leader and prepared to exact their revenge.
Duncan watched as the
BRDM
leading the convoy rolled forward. He divided the platoon into teams. The first team consisted of three men armed with
LAWS
. On Duncan’s order they would take out the
BRDM
leading the convoy.
Their firing would be the signal for the main team, deployed just off the road, to fire on the trucks nearest them. These men were further broken down into three-man sections. Each section was to fire on one truck, taking out the drivers and shooting the tires. Once a section managed to stop a truck and the immediate area appeared to be safe, two men were given sixty seconds to raid the truck for food, water and any types of antitank weapons they could find, while the third man covered them. The last team, located at the far end of the ambush, was the security team. Because the platoon was not large enough to deal with an entire column and could take on only a small chunk of it by isolating the lead trucks, the security team’s job was to keep the rest of the convoy busy and provide covering fires while the ambush team rummaged through the stopped trucks. Once finished, all teams would withdraw to a predesignated rally point, then move to a hiding place where they would spend the following day.
Like most commanders leading men into battle, Duncan was nervous as he lay there watching the
BRDM
labor up the incline. His mind was filled with fear and apprehension. Had he thought of everything? Were his men really ready for combat? What happened if the
BRDM
wasn’t knocked out by the team with the LAWS? Were the lead trucks full of supplies or Soviet infantry? Was the security team large enough to deal with the rest of the convoy? What would they do if his men didn’t find any food on the trucks? Questions and concerns cascaded through his mind.
Despite the cool evening, he was sweating. He wiped his hands and watched the progress of the
BRDM
.
The image of his lieutenant’s body, ripped open and quivering as its life force oozed out, flashed through Duncan’s brain. His stomach began to turn and knot up. As he tried hard to compose himself, he wondered what he feared more, death or failure. Death was easier for him. Once he was dead, his problems were over. Failure was the more to be feared of the two. If he failed, his men would pay the price.
They would be ripped apart, just like the lieutenant. Other horrible images would crowd his mind. That, to
Duncan, was more terrible than death.
The soldier next to Duncan nudged him and pointed. The
BRDM
was about to reach the point where the team with the LAWs could engage it. Duncan watched, waited and prepared to give the order to fire. In another second, it would be out of his hands.
North of Pariz 0035 Hours, 1 July (2105 Hours, 30 June,
GMT
) A convoy of T-80 tanks of the 3rd Battalion, Soviet 68th Tank Regiment, moved through the darkness like a great mechanical snake. Its body turned and slithered along the road relentlessly, always going south.
This snake, however, was not alert. Hours of monotonous moving at the same unchanging, slow speed through a countryside that did not vary had drained the last ounce of vigilance from the young tank commanders and their crews. The rhythmic thumping of the tanks’ tracks on the road, the steady vibration of the engines, and the silence of the radios and the intercom were more conducive to sleep than to alertness. Instead of standing in their turrets or peering through their sights, watching their assigned sectors, they struggled to stay awake, occupying themselves with thoughts of home.
Besides, with security forces out on the flanks and recon elements in front, the danger of an attack on the tanks was minimal.
As the long columns moved, it was not unusual for a tank to slowly drift off toward the shoulder of the road and into a ditch as its crew fell asleep. Sometimes the driver or the tank commander would feel the change in the vibrations of the tank as it moved onto the rough shoulder. When this happened, the driver, startled by the calamity he faced, would jerk the tank back into line, tossing the crew in the turret about. On other occasions, the crew never realized what was happening until the tank literally fell off the road.