Free Team Yankee: a novel of World War III by Harold Coyle Page B

was a young private, Polgar had been in Vietnam two months before he had seen his first VC, and they had been dead VC. In the first day of this war, he was looking at all the Soviets he cared to see. He looked to his left and then to his right at his PCs. The four M- I 13s with him weren't going to do a hell of a lot if the tanks in the Team fell flat on their ass. As the Soviets drew near, Polgar tracked the Soviets with his M2
    and thought, "Those dumb-ass tankers better be as good as they think they are, or this is going to be a damned short war."
    The Team was charged and ready. Bannon could feel it. Now, he prepared to fight his own tank crew.
    He grabbed the TC's override and traversed the turret to his intended victim, yelling out the fire command without switching on the intercom, "GUNNER-SABOT-TANK WITH MINE
    ROLLER."
    "IDENTIFIED." Folk had the target in his sight.
    "UP." Kelp had armed the main gun and was clear of the path of recoil. Bannon knelt down on top of his seat, perched above the gunner and loader, watching through the extension as Folk tracked the T-72. They waited. The enemy continued to advance. And they waited. The line of tanks was now
    beginning to reach the valley floor. And they waited. The sweat was rolling down Bannon's face and he was beginning to lose nerve. And they waited. "SPLASH-OVER." The FSO's call on the battalion net heralded the impact of the artillery. Across the valley, the crest of the far hill erupted as hundreds of small bomblets impacted and went off. On target! "FIRE!"
    "ON THE WAAAAAY!"
    The image of the T-72 disappeared before Bannon's eye in a flash and cloud of smoke as Folk fired. The tank rocked back as the gun recoiled and spit out the spent shell casing.
    Kelp hit the ammo door switch with his knee, causing it to slide open with a bang. He hauled out the next round, loaded the gun, and armed it before the dust and obscuration cleared.
    When it did, the T-72 with the mine roller was stopped, broadside to 66, and burning furiously.
    "TARGET-CEASE FIRE." They had drawn their first blood. "STAND BY GUNNER." Bannon popped his head up to get an overall picture of what was going on. Just as he did, the 33
    tank fired a HEAT-T round at a BMP. He watched the tracer streak towards the target and impact with a bright orange flash and black ball of smoke. The BMP lurched forward another few meters then stopped, quivered, and began to burn. Bannon scanned the valley floor and opposite slope watching that scene repeated again and again. When the first round missed a BMP, the BMP would turn away from the impact. This maneuver, however, only added a few more seconds to its life because the second round usually found its mark. He watched as two BMPs, scrambling to avoid being hit, rammed each other and stopped. This calamity only made it easier for Team Yankee's gunners, and both BMPs died within seconds of each other, locked together.
    The crest of the far hill had disappeared from view. The smoke and DPICM were doing their jobs. So far, nothing had followed the Soviet command group down. The command group had scattered, but it, too, was suffering. The BMP from the command group was lying on its side, a track hanging off and burning. The tank that had been with it had been hit but had only shed its right track. It stood, immobile but defiant, returning fire towards the headquarters position. This'uneven contest, however, did not last long. In return, the T-72
    received a TOW missile that detonated at the turret ring and ripped the turret off with a thunderous explosion.
    "I have a BMP in my sights, can I engage." Folk was impatient. Bannon knelt down, glanced at Kelp to ensure he was clear, checked that the gun was armed, and gave the command to fire. Folk gave an on-the-way and fired. The rock and recoil shook the tank. A glance in the extension told him that Folk had been on the mark again. Another BMP crew and infantry squad had become heroes of the Soviet Union, posthumously.