Defense of Hill 781 (5 page)

The silence was deafening. Immediately Always wished he had pulled out the approved staff manual and gone down the checklist step by step when his operations officer had first approached him with the news of the order. But there had been so much to do, and it had seemed premature for him to go too
far into the planning until he had formally met his commanders, familiarized himself with his battalion, and learned his equipment.

Now he found himself trapped by Drivon, who proceeded to consume the next hour and a half explaining the ground rules of their newly founded relationship. Each staff observer then added his own views as to how his part of the operation was to be conducted, and the time stretched out well after dark. Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the observers evaporated into the night, leaving Always to try to gather up his staff, call in his waiting commanders, and recapture control of his own headquarters.

At that moment he spied Command Sergeant Major Hope. “How are you doing, sir?”

Always was glad to see him, his polite, smiling, knowledgeable face relieving in an instant the turmoil Always had been suffering through for the last few hours.

“Sergeant Major, don’t you have a counterpart observer?”

“Oh no, sir. I’m above all that, if you remember. Besides, no one has ever dared to dictate what a command sergeant major is supposed to do, so these guys down here would be out of line even trying to tell me. No sir, I neither need nor want their advice.”

“God, Sergeant Major, I envy you!”

“Yes, sir. I know what you’re going through. Just take it in stride. Remember, no one said this was going to be easy.”

By now the officers had assembled, and the two men broke off their quiet conversation and moved to the front of the group. In unison the men snapped to attention, commanders up front in the lighted TOC, the staff and specialty platoon leaders to the rear.

Major Walters now took charge of the meeting, and one by one brought up the staff officers to brief the commanders. Most of the discussions had to do with administrative details, since Always had deferred any discussion of the order until later.
By his mannerisms, by his questions, by his kindness to the briefers when they were forthright and by his harshness when they were defensive, Always began to project his personality over the assembled group. A glance at Walters told him that his XO would be giving stern instructions to those briefers who had failed in the need to be thorough but concise. Again, Always was reassured at the professionalism of the group he had inherited.

The commanders were a good-looking lot. A and B Company commanders, Captain Archer and Captain Baker, were aggressive, intelligent young men. They exuded confidence and strength; they were at ease in talking of their men and their equipment and in stating their needs, but they also exhibited an understanding of the needs of the larger unit. Both their Bradley companies, Always learned, consisted of thirteen Bradleys each, but only sixty dismounted infantry soldiers when at 100 percent strength. Three men would have to remain with each vehicle in order to keep it moving and shooting when the infantrymen dismounted. Always was aghast. He had an infantry battalion with very few infantrymen.

Captain Carter of C Company was a short, solid tanker. His mannerisms indicated a man who was on top of every issue in his unit, almost artificially so, Always thought to himself. D Company’s Captain Dilger was a lanky Southerner, slower of speech than the others and seemingly unassuming, but there was a steeliness in his eyes that was reassuring. His fourteen tanks, Always imagined, would be a heavy punch when the time came. Added to the fourteen others under Carter, that punch should be unstoppable.

Captain Jim Evans had the antitank element, the smallest of the five combat companies, but as he spoke of his unit in his New York twang, it was clear that he was confident it was a formidable force. He had only two platoons of missile carriers of four each, his third platoon having been detached to the armor battalion working on Always’ flank.

The sixth commander, Captain Coving, was the most experienced of the lot. He had to command more than 300 men in Headquarters Company, mostly supporters—mechanics, staff, cooks, medics, and administrators—but he also had the mortar platoon of six tubes mounted in tracked vehicles and the scout platoon mounted in six Bradleys. Coving would have to possess great versatility to keep all of these elements pulling together in support of the upcoming missions, but he looked like he had the character and the skills to do it. Intelligent eyes accentuated a rugged appearance. He listened well and had the answers to a myriad of detailed questions that came up during the briefing.

If anyone ever doubts the strength of America, Always thought to himself, he should look into the faces of the young captains that come to command in our combat forces. It seems unbelievable that a nation so steeped in hedonistic values could produce such hard-working, self-sacrificing men, so physically and mentally tough. The demands on them were impossible. Responsible for everything their men did or failed to do, liable for millions of dollars worth of equipment, vulnerable at every moment to mishap, misfortune, or misdirected orders, they nonetheless approached their duties with a total commitment and dedication, working hours that would fell an ox under conditions of physical discomfort that would crack the resistance of lesser men. Yet there was never a lack of willing candidates to step forward and pick up the yoke—enthusiastic and zealous young men, aware of the deep responsibilities they shouldered for their nation. Always had seen endless thousands of them in his lifetime, and it never failed to inspire in him a tremendous pride in his country and his profession. Among the many great resources America can claim, surely its capacity to produce such valiant men ranks at the top of the list.

As Always took the floor to state his philosophy of command, to stress those values he would hold central to the men under him, he tried hard to establish strong eye contact with each of
his commanders. Gathered inside the small canvas-enclosed operations center were the key men of the battalion. Clearly the most crucial to the health of the command were the company commanders. He had to know them intimately, and they had to know him. Each had to be attuned to the others’ way of thinking. And so it was to them that he directed his comments.

“It is clear to me that this is a fine battalion. Your professionalism, your energy, and your strong leadership have been apparent throughout the unit. I can think of no outfit I would rather find myself with on the eve of battle. I lack experience in fighting a heavy force, but I know that with you to help me I will learn much quickly. I assure you I will commit myself to that end. In the meantime I know the bedrock of any unit is discipline, and that it is present in this battalion in ample quantity. We shall build upon that strength, as it will become more and more crucial as we face the tasks awaiting us.

“I have yet to meet a man in this outfit whose heart is not in the right place. We are all trying to do our duty as best we know how. That is all I ask of you. It can be expected that we will make mistakes; good men trying to do the right thing often do slip now and then. Don’t worry about that. I am sure I will make mistakes too. I trust you will be tolerant of me, help me to correct them, and to avoid repeating them a second time. I will work toward the same end with you. In the meantime, our purposes are best served with mutual trust and honesty.

“Our primary mission here is to defeat the enemy. He is reputed to be a formidable foe. So are we. The men I met today did not lack for courage or commitment. With them we will be able to rise to every challenge before us, no matter how tough it is. We owe it to those men to give them the very best leadership we can. I am sure they will not let us down. We must not let them down. Tomorrow you will be issued your first operations order. I look forward to going into battle with you.”

Always hoped that he had shown the right sense of balance in his few words. He knew that any insincerity on his part would have been perceived instantly, so he had spoken what he felt. Even at this late hour the impressions he made on this group would permeate the battalion, building on perceptions of him garnered earlier in the day. The confidence with which this battalion went into combat would grow from those perceptions.

It had been a long day. Always gave a few quiet words of instruction to his executive officer and his S-3, then went out into the dark to meet his Bradley crew and learn what he could of this unfamiliar piece of equipment before he would have to take it into battle.

CHAPTER 2
Dawn Attack

Dawn came early and abruptly in the desert. By four in the morning the sky had lightened, revealing a scene of continuing activity as the battalion finalized its preparations. Well before five the colonel had departed in his helicopter, flying over the route they would take that evening to the assembly area for the following morning’s attack. Before he had left he gave instructions to his staff emphasizing the dispositions of forces for the attack and the dispatching of the scout platoon to make a reconnaissance of the route to the battle area. The order would be given at noon when the commanders came in to the tactical operations center. Things seemed to be going well, only the ever-watching observers lending a disconcerting air to events. By this time they had saturated the battalion, from headquarters down to each platoon.

From the air the desert floor looked exceedingly flat. The assembly area itself was well placed behind a convenient piece of high ground, shielding it from the observation of the enemy and affording a number of routes into the objective area. Always wanted to fly closer to the objective, but knew that to do so entailed great risk from antiaircraft fire. So he contented himself by orbiting ever higher to get a good standoff look into the
area. On the flight back to the headquarters he could see the scouts moving down the route, fanning out to check the points that threatened the safe passage of the battalion’s units. The battalion commander considered the risk of one of the elements in the column making a wrong turn in the dark, and so made a note to have the scouts man difficult points on the route in order to guide everyone on their way. He could sense the great risk that the nighttime movement of more than 200 vehicles and 1,000 men entailed. He was concentrating hard on the control measures he could adopt to keep everything on track.

Somehow time seemed to be getting away from him. As best he could tell he had not wasted any of it, yet as he discovered more and more things he had to do, the less time remained for him to do them. He wanted more time to study the map, to consult the doctrinal manual on road marching and attacking with a mechanized task force (the manual had chapters for every conceivable type of mission a task force could get), to familiarize himself with the equipment, to check on the progress in the battalion, and to prepare personally his equipment (maps, radios, gear, vehicle, et cetera), but he was continually distracted by unexpected events. His staff, diligently trying to get out a proper written order, was demanding an early briefing to him so that it could produce the final copies complete with all annexes by the noontime order. The staff officers kept coming to him for decisions: How many medics did he want to assign per company? What time would he like to feed the battalion? Should it be hot, prepared rations or MREs? (This gave Always an instant stomachache as he remembered what had gotten him here in the first place.) Where was his command post going to be? Whom did he want with him in it? What would the uniform be? What time did he want air support? (They had to plan it twenty-four hours in advance.) What would the order of march be? What missions would they give to the engineers? When did he want his tent struck? Could he meet with the Brigade S-3 and S-2
who had come by for a staff visit? Did he know about the difficulty they were having with tank transmissions in C Company? What mix of antitank missiles did he want in A and B Companies? Did he want to split his mortar platoon into two sections or keep them intact? How many radios did he want in his Bradley? What channels did he want them preset on, and on and on and on. It was not that his subordinates were incompetent—they only wanted to be sure to incorporate the wishes of their new commander. So valid questions were mixed in with trivial ones, and the colonel developed a searing headache trying to deal with them all.

By the time the orders briefing rolled around he had yet to break free of the entangling morass and reflect on just what it was he wanted to do. The result was an order that, although adhering to the staff manual format, was far from his own. Nor was it the expression of any clearheadedness on the part of the staff—each of them had been trying so hard to fathom the intent of the commander that any continuity of thought had been lost. The disaster was clear to the commanders present, when in order to understand their own role within the intentions of the battalion they were compelled to ask a plethora of questions that should have been resolved by the briefing. It was a tribute to Always that he did not lose his composure; he was experienced enough to know that this would only exacerbate an already bad state of affairs. He tried his best to clarify where it was needed, and this took up so much time that he feared his subordinates would not be able to do their own planning before darkness overtook them and they were caught up in the execution of the operation.