Pedestals of Ash (20 page)

Fitz held the high ground and saw the approaching tanks first. The
Cav
had learned its les
son from the first skirmish and
was letting its heavy armor lead the charge. Fitz heard commands being issued by several friendly units to load SABOT, meaning they were loading anti-tank rounds into their guns. Before Fitz could activate his TOW launcher, the Independent’s cannons cut lose with their
deadly fire
. A hail of TOW missile plumes followed close behind
, their warheads seeking 1st Calvary armor
.

Fitz watched as one shot hit the lead tank dead center
,
but just a little low. The round blew the tread from its guides
,
and the tank momentarily swerved shar
ply to the left,
and then
lurched
to a halt. T
he chas
sis still rocked
from the sudden stop,
when
a TOW missile
struck, causing
the disabled tank
to
disappear in a
n
enormous flash and explosion.

Along a
half-kilometer
line,
the two titans
clashed. While the 4/10 was out
gunned and outnumbered, they held a superior positio
n. Fitz’s selection of the junk
yard was both a tactical and strategic advantage. Many of the piles of metallic junk were burning
,
and that caused problems for the
Cav
’s thermal sights. The slight elevation and cover provided by the piles of scrap iron gave the defenders just enough edge to equal the odds.

The
Cav
’s attack was vicious and well executed. The lead tanks were manned by the most accurate gun crews
,
and their initial salvos destroyed several vehicles. The air was filled with the screaming sounds of high velocity projectiles, roaring missile
motors,
and the cries of dying men. It wasn’t just a battle of armored machines. All throughout the area
,
dismounted infantry joined the fray. A few of the Independent’s men were equipped with
the
latest portable missile system, the Javelin. The two man crews carrying these affective weapons would hide until an enemy tank came to within range and then quickly rise and fire. More than one of the
Cav
’s battle machines died th
is
way. Squad sized elements of infantry skirmished all along the line, maneuvering like pieces on a chest board and dying by the score in the process. 

The
Cav
kept coming like waves of steel crashing against an iron beach. Fitz was waiting on his TOW launcher to be reloaded when his Stryker was hit. The SABOT round from an approaching tank destroyed his vehicle and killed one of the crew. Fitz was thrown 30 feet away by the blast, taking shrapnel in the leg and suffering a deep gash to the head. Two crewmen from a nea
rby unit dragged
him to cover, where a medic was performing battlefield miracles in the midst of the mayhem. Fitz was triaged and deemed salvageable. He demanded the medic move on to men in worse shape. After wrapping his scalp enough times to keep the flow of blood out of his eyes, he limped to an open area and began directing arriving reinforcements to key positions. When
a nearby
Stryker’s commander was shot out of the turret, Fitz climbed aboard and took command. He was an adrenaline charged warrior
,
motivated by anger and purpose. Gone was any sense of self-preservation or belief in any ideology. Fitz fought with desperate determination to hold his ground. 

The reasons why men join in battle vary. A few do so for country and honor, while a small fraction risk it all because they consider it their job. The vast majority fight because of the brotherhood shared with fellow soldiers. When men see friends and comrades fall to the enemy, a powerful reaction often takes place. Rather than mo
urn or lose control to
disabling emotions, they enter a state of mind where revenge, rage
,
and sense of
purpose override any concerns of
survival. For som
e, combat provides a catalyst to
clarity they have never experienced before. Deep questions posed by every human are answered with amazing precision. Why am I on this earth? What is the purpose of my life? Can I make a difference? It all becomes clear in combat. Mental clutter is melted away and realization of core value
s e
merges. Many times observers will note that a soldier performed with a “cool professionalism,” or with “extreme courage” under fire. More often than not, the soldier is experiencing a
single-minded transparency
of purpose
,
an
d his brain is functioning at
unprecedented levels. Most will never experience anything close to that state for the rest of their lives. Few can describe it, and none will ever forget it.

All around Scott’
s Hill, thousands of men were simultaneously experiencing
that mental state. The United States Army was the most powerful in history. The high level of training
,
combined with state of the art equipment
,
enabled a level of violence here before unseen in warfare. The devastation experienced by both sides was well beyond anything in the long history of conflict. Despite the indescribable havoc and destruction, more and more men and material were thrown into the battle. As additional units arrived, they charged into what had essentially become a meat grinder, chewing up equipment and flesh. None of them hesitated or baulked. As men and machines moved forward into the fight, they
passed the wounded being taken from the conflict. Many passed
friends, or what some even considered family, being carried back from the inferno of destruction roaring just beyond. Witnessing their brothers in arms injured or dead only made them more determined.

Both commanders realized the bat
tle taking place at the farm
was depleting their u
nits at an unsustainable pace.
Both attempted every possible maneuver available to them. Left hooks, right hooks, feints, envelopment
,
and blocking were employed to various degrees when allowed by the fog of war. Most attempts were countered by equal application of maneuver or offset by circumstance. In the end, it all boiled down to a desperate fight for Scott’s Hill.

The
Cav
actually pushed the 10
th
from
the dairy
on the third attempt. The unrelenting weight of the Ironhorse’s superior firepower and armor had taken its toll on the 10
th
. Most approaches to the
junkyard
were now impassable, littered by burning hulks of armor and felled trees. Bark and wood was no match for modern weapons. Mature trunks were snapped off or splintered
,
and the woods around Scott’s Hill looked as if a tornado had torn through the countryside. An infantry squad spotted an approach that was clear enough for the big armored machines to maneuver, and a squad of four tanks charged at the weakened defenders on the hill.

There were only three functional Strykers left in the
junkyard
. When one of these exploded from an incoming round, Fitz couldn’t see any alternative but to order a retreat, and told his driver to get the hell out of there. As the defenders gave ground, Major Owens felt a small sense of relief that his forces were finally moving forward. He would hold the high ground in just a few minutes.

Fitz retreated
behind a small mound 400 meters away from Scott’s Hill. He was waiting on orders when the last two tanks belonging to the 10
th
pulled up to his position. They were quickly joined by another Stryker with a fully loaded TOW launcher. After a few moments of radio confusion, it was clear Fitz was senior and in command. Colonel Marcus’s voice sounded through Fitz’s ear – take that hill back at all costs. After a quick agreement on formation, Fitz’s retreat turned into a counter-attack. 

Major Owens was approaching Scott’s Hill after his platoon reported they had finally taken the
junkyard
. He wanted to regroup any forces he had left and decided the small rise would be the best rally point. As his tank was approaching, explosions began erupting all around him. The enemy was counterattacking.

Fitz’s patchwork of armor charged at the
hilltop
with guns blazing and miss
iles launching. A couple
of
thrown-
together infantry platoons engaged from the south and immediately ran into a group of the
Cav
’s troopers trying to rally with the tanks. The men of the
Cav
couldn’t determine t
he strength of the counteroffensive
, and
confusion ensured. Major Owens’
tanks began withdrawing from the hilltop they had just occupied and paid so dearly for.

Something snapped in the m
ajor’s mind. They had sacrificed so much to take this damn
ed
hill
,
and he wasn’t going to
just
give it back. He started screaming commands on the net
,
demanding his troopers hold that ground. He ordered his driver to tear ass up there and “get this fucking tank into the fight.” 

Owens’
gunner spotted a Stryker moving at an interse
cting angle. The turret of the m
ajor’s tank spun toward the target
,
and the computer’s aiming progra
m kicked in, efficiently pointing
the deadly gun at Fitz’s charging Stryker.

Fitz saw another fucking tank approaching the
junkyard
. He armed and locked on with a TOW, hitting the launch button just before the target’s main gun belched with a cloud of fire and smoke.

Both vehicles were destroyed, killing all aboard. The
Cav lost Major Owen
s
,
and his death caused confusion. With their commander dead, the two remaining tanks belonging to the
Cav
began backing down the hill. The loss of Fitz didn’t immediately impact the counterattack by the 10th. Momentum was on their side
,
and when the shooting stopped, one Abrams and one Stryker made it to the
junkyard
. The 4
th
Brigade Combat Team, 10
th
Mountain Division, held Scott’s Hill.

Suddenly, as i
f a
switch had been pulled
,
everyone stopped shooting. The air was still polluted
with an assortment of foreign sounds -
the roaring flames of burning ve
hicles… the suffering of wounded men…. B
ut this was practically silence
,
when compare
d to the orchestra of death booming
only a short time before.

While the men of the 10
th
still held the
junkyard
, in reality, the
Cav
had
the better day. Colonel Marcus’
Independents suffered 80% losses
-
the 4-10 was no longer a combat effective unit. The
Cav
ended the battle with 40% losses, including their commanding officer and a significant number of his junior. Both sides ended the fight thinking they had suffered the worst of it.

A kind of unofficial truce ensued on the battlefield surrounding Scott’s Hill. Teams of medics searched for injured survivors from both sides, often in plain sight of each other. The carnage was so prolific that neither side had the energy or motivation to start shooting at the other. The counting of causalities and the tending to the wounded became the mission, and that would continue for hours.