pnzrldr

“Vovk, Brytva 22 at checkpoint 2.  No sign of enemy.  We see nothing at the farm.  We are continuing.”
Serzhant Klim Levitsky, commander of Tunguska Razor 22 was so scared he could barely hold still.  Yet his fear gave him focus, and his crew simply thought he was extraordinarily attentive to his duty.  As air defense soldiers, their training and education was a notch above the infantry and other combat soldiers.  Klim had two years at University!  But ever since the Russian invasion, their world had narrowed to the grease, wiring and electrical tape necessary to keep their complex vehicle rolling and operating.  Though the electrical components were sealed, Levitsky had taught them together how to troubleshoot basic faults using a wiring diagram and a breakout box.  Their Battery mechanic had helped, although the radar tech had cautioned them to leave the fire control system alone.  He also led them through training drills, using their system to track birds visually, and to run the appropriate tests and checks on the missiles, fuze setters, lead computing sight, slew and elevation mechanisms and the cannon feed systems.  A nightmare of complexity when compared with a simple main battle tank, yet Serzhant Levitsky loved it, and was grateful for the opportunity to systematically engage any aircraft that came within his weapon’s range.
 
Unfortunately, Levitsky was not quite emotionally prepared for the chaos of combat.  While his technical and tactical skills were first rate, adapting oneself to the understanding that nothing was ever going to go according to plan was difficult for the orderly young college student.  Assigned to the Krichek air defense sector, he had absorbed the air defense plan, airspace control measures, IFF settings and learned to follow the rules of engagement to prevent them from engaging a NATO aircraft (and potentially losing NATO Air Support!).  But as the situation in Krichek became more desperate, he started getting anxious.  While his less organized peers adapted grimly to the new tasks of building a ground defense, Klim stuck doggedly to his air defense doctrine.  Not until KPT Kovtun himself had carefully walked him through the rehearsal for his role, had he allowed himself to accept that he might actually execute this plan.  Now he was rolling forward, unsupported to check out a Russian recon truck that had been spotted earlier by LT Lysenko, and his mind was reeling.  The artillery of the last half hour had rattled him badly, and his linkage to the command and control nets only fueled his fears as station after station stopped reporting, some with audible finality.  He fully expected to see the deadly snout of a Russian T-90 leveled at him with every new meter of ground he could see.  Only the familiar acid-tang smell electronics mixed with grease had kept him stable.  Outwardly though, he remained not only in control but rigidly focused, rattling off precise clipped commands and scanning literally non-stop.
“Gunner, ground burst, four-zero rounds, at the left side of the building,” he spoke into his intercom headset.
“Identified, armed,” said the gunner, followed an instant later by the radar operator:
“Safety off!”
“Fire.” 
“Firing!” 
The buzz saw whined, the twin cannons firing at a combined rate of well over 4000 round per minute, spitting a greater weight of explosive at the building than a tank round.  The building shuddered under the impact. 
“Repeat engagement, fire.” Another burst spat out, followed by another.  On the third, the building collapsed in a heap. 
“Confirm no truck,” the Serzhant said.
“Nothing,” the gunner responded.
“We have alerted the enemy – wide area scan,” Levitsky said.  As he spoke, a loud detonation sounded just outside the track to the left.  Peering through his cupola window, he calmly said:
“Correction, scan left.  Infantry 100 meters.” The turret slewed instantly to the ten o’clock position.
“I see them!”
“Gunner, ground burst, four-zero rounds, Infantry, fire!”  Klim’s voice finally rose as he gave the command to kill another human being, but his whirling mind that wanted to blubber uncontrollably was locked into near-robotic adherence to his repetitive training.  The Russian scout, inexplicably trying to run after his near miss with the RPG, suddenly reversed course when the twin lines of destruction blasted parallel paths to his front and rear. 
“Miss, reengage, fire and track.”
“Firing!”
This time the rounds physically struck the sprinting Russian, blowing his torso nearly in half and tossing pieces of him into the nearby trees.  Klim’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head in shock, but his voice remained ice cold and smooth.
“Return to wide area scan.”
“Look, another one!” the gunner sang out.  Again Klim responded automatically,
“Gunner, ground burst, five-zero rounds, Infantry, fire.” 
This time the burst caught the second Russian the first time, fragments tossing him to the ground like a shotgun blast to a running hare.  His blood painted the grass, and Klim could see his eyes go glassy through his magnified sight. 
“Continue to scan.  Radar Operator, check feed chute linkages and compensator fluids.” 
Klim told himself that he could handle this.  He would get used to it and it would somehow become okay.  He thought about the fact that he had just blotted two or more men from the planet, but then immediately refocused on how to keep his track alive.  He knew his designated route for this patrol, but also knew that he was unlikely to have killed all the scouts that threatened his fragile track.  Gears in his mind whirred and clicked into a new pattern, and he spoke again.
“Hey, uh, driver.  When we move out, we’ll pull back around behind these trees, not out in front of them.  And I want you to focus on keeping the ride nice and smooth so Mykola can scan, okay?  That was really well done.  We are in it deep, but we will get through it together. Remember our training, but think hard about what we must do.”  He wiped sweat from his brow and rubbed his gloved hands on his thighs. 
“Here, guns, have some water.  Everyone take a drink, but save the vodka for later.  We need to stay sharp.” 
“Vovk, this is Brytva 22.  Engaged and killed two enemy scouts.  Cannot identify truck.  Continuing patrol.” 
 
http://youtu.be/DiLjwZjG7k8
 
Brytva 22 is actually Robocop
 
In Starov village, LT Martynyuk was angry.  He knew what was happening – his experience back in 2014 left him in no doubt that the wheels had come off the car, and his mortar platoon was in trouble.  He strode towards one gun team to get confirmation on their round count – he knew he could call, but felt the urge to see his men up close.  As he approached the section truck, he felt a shock through the ground that merged with a concussive ‘Boom!’ from just beyond the village.  He looked, and saw another column of smoke marking the end of yet another Ukrainian BMP.  He looked over at the gun crew, then up at the cab of the truck.  The driver was smoking a cigarette. 
“Soldat.  You have an RPG, yes?”
Like a child caught with a sweet, the young man froze his mouth agape, staring at the officer as though the words were in a foreign language.
“Well, do you?”
“Yes, Leytenant!”
“Get it, get all your ammo, and go over to that building there.  Tell the Serzhant of 1st Platoon that you are there to help.  If any Russian tanks come through, I am counting on you to stop them.  You understand?  You must cover us – we cannot fight tanks with mortars”
Breathing hard, the pimple-faced soldier jumped down from the cab.
“Yessir.  I…   I will.  I understand.”  He fumbled with his ammo satchel with the rockets sticking out, but got it slung and jogged off without another word.
Martynyuk watched him go, wondering if he would ever see him again.  He needed to ask him his name.
 

As PdPK Borys watched, KPT Antonyuk’s 1st PLT BMPs to his rear moved back up into firing positions to reengage the enemy tracks in the treeline to their front. Their engine whining as they moved, up, Borys’ felt his heart skip a beat as the center BMP’s Konkurs missile launcher flashed smoke and flame, but his burst of excitement died as the missile dove into the ground 200m short of its intended target. As he watched in growing horror, the BMP-3 responded.





Despite the previous penetrating hit, it appeared unharmed, and it sent an ATGM back at the Ukrainian vehicle in response, a smaller missile launched straight from its 100mm cannon tube. This missile tracked straight and true, actually flying just over the smoke and dust from the Konkurs, and smashing into the vehicle’s front hull. Its warhead detonated, the shaped-charge jet lancing through the BMP’s thin frontal armor, spewing white-hot gaseous metal into the inner compartment, killing the driver and commander, and leaving the vehicle a smoldering horror. A second later, as if to make doubly sure, a solid burst of 30mm fire smashed into the stricken vehicle, spalling chunks of armor and outer kit into the air as it tore through the wreck. Just a split instant later, another GLATGM fired from the BMP-3’s unmolested partner detonated on the 1st PLT BMP-2 who had earlier scored a hit on his fellow. This missile immediately set the Ukrainian track on fire. Borys watched as the two of the three crewmen leapt from their vehicle and sprinted for cover – the driver died where he sat. An airburst round detonated over the track seconds later, hastening them on their way.





LT Lysenko watched the missiles and beads of fire streaking across the field from his vantage point in the power plant’s control building. He craned his head to see, trying to discern what was happening and who was winning the concussive fight. Suddenly his world turned black, and he was knocked to the floor. Dust filled the room, as the young Leytenant got shakily to his feet, his ears ringing from the blast. I hole had opened in the wall of the room, about a meter above his head. He had no idea where the explosion had come from and wondered whether he had been spotted by as yet unseen Russians’ below. He gave quick mental thanks that it had not been a bigger round that caused it. He raised the handmike he still clutched to his ear to ask his Squad leader in the power plant access control building whether he had seen what happened. Tension on the mike cord caused him to look back to his RTO – “Mish…” the private lay face down on the floor, blood spreading from under his downturned face. He dropped the mike and dug at his combat webbing for a bandage.

I don't care if you don't care who wins. I do, and I intend to win. All that aside, not doing so great with the Ukrainians, but am confidant once the US forces arrive in strength.


The air defense tank with the highly original name of TG21fired yet another burst. The TC was literally pounding the gunner between the shoulder blades, urging him to bring his fire down. With a satisfied sigh, he watched as the third long burst – like a water hose of bright lights – smashed into the back of the exposed Russian tank.
“Again, again like that!” he yelled, pounding the hapless gunner even more. Two more bursts struck home, the rounds visibly exploding around and on the vehicle. The commander kept his eyes on the Russian tank and directed the gunner to spray the hillside where he knew other Russian vehicles lurked. Nearly 200 rounds of 30mm High Explosive spattered across the east side of Hill 347. Individually, no round was particularly deadly unless it struck within a few meters of an exposed Soldier. But the swathes of shells slashed grooves up the hill, peppered with vicious, buzzing shrapnel. Even without actually hitting anyone, they were bound to make people think twice the TC thought, then he gasped as the tank’s 125mm airburst round detonated three meters in front of his vehicle – he had been watching for the turret to turn, but…
“Quick, driver, back up! Kick it!”
The vehicle lurched backwards, and in less than a second had rolled safely behind the cover of several meters of hillside. An instant later, another 125mm HE round shattered the air in front of their former firing position.
“Okay, wait until they think we have run away, then we pull up and do it to them again. Be looking for the BMPs.” the commander told his gunner. “Sorry about your back.”



In Krichek, PdPK Tymo flinched again, as yet another near miss from the Russian artillery hammered into the street outside his make shift command post in the town hall building. KPT Kovtun stuck his head in again.
“Sir, the Skif team is pulling back. They killed a vehicle on the far side of the river, but were under fire and have only three missiles left.”
“Yes, very good.” Said the air defense officer. “What about the team at the north bank of the river?”
“We haven’t heard from them, Sir. Perhaps their radio is out, or perhaps… the artillery?” The Kapeytan shrugged. An instant later he was lying on the dusty floor cursing and spitting out dust as yet another ear-shattering explosion rocked the south end of the town.
“Are you okay?”
He didn’t respond except to nod, still trying to clear his mouth. The constant explosions lifted every particle of dust on the floor into the air, and made breathing a chore. The dust tasted… different than what is usually kicked up by vehicles or the wind blowing. It had a sweet, acrid taste.
“Call the American Major and see if his people have seen anything.” The PkPK said.



Outside of Starov, another Ukrainian Pidpulkovnyk watched in agony as the BMP-3 he had seen five minutes prior, but was impotent to get a missile on, suddenly burst into life and began shelling the Soldiers creeping along the southern edge of hill 347. Borys had sincerely hoped that KPT Antonyuk would have managed to destroy or suppress this Russian track before he moved his men forward, but the Americans had moved forward anyway, and Borys supposed the Ukrainian men had followed not to be outdone by their foreign allies. Now both would pay the price. The BMP was firing 100mm High Explosive Air Burst munitions, set by the laser range finder in the vehicle’s fire control system to detonate at a specified range – in this case, the exact distance to the target, only a couple of meters above the ground. The result was a deadly shower of fragments, laying waste to nearly anything inside a radius of almost 25 meters. Borys watched in mounting frustration as shell followed shell, each coming closer to the hapless American forward observer team. Borys pounded his fist against the soft earth as he saw one of the US Soldiers drop suddenly still while trying to crawl clear. His attention shifted behind him as he heard engine sounds from a 1st PLT BMP-2 pulling up in Starov. “Good,” he thought, “now maybe we get something back.”
“Tchangk!!!” The BMP’s 30mm autocannon was shockingly loud when it fired right past and over you. Borys waited for more rounds, but there were none. He looked out just in time to see the single shot knock sparks into the sky as it slammed through the BMP by the tree farm’s armor. But no more deadly 30mm rounds followed. “Is he jammed?” Borys thought. Then he noticed the AT-5 missile launcher on the vehicle’s roof shifting and an instant later the missile sped from its canister in a rush of fire, smoke and sound. But it only flew a few dozen meters before slamming into the earth and detonating, doing more to unnerve the Ukrainian infantry nearby than it did to the Russians. Borys watched in even greater frustration as the crew – probably new to their vehicle, and unsure of their drills, fired their smoke launchers and backed away from the fight they were winning. The Ukrainian officer paled, as he heard more engine noises on hill 347, as the Russian motorized company continued to bound forward on the hillside towards the Ukrainian and American positions.

PdPK Tymoshenko spoke rapidly into his cell phone – sometimes old school command and control just worked better, and as the long-time commander of the air defense forces in this sector, he knew his assets closely. Moments later, the Tunguska air defense vehicle of his nearby gun/missile section pulled up onto the crest of the river bank, the eastern slopes of hill 347 bare in front of it. Russian infantry were still slogging unconcerned, but quickly across the wheat field towards the hill. A quick series of orders from the track commander brought the twin 30mm cannons down and into ground mode, and a moment later a two long ropes of blazing tracer rounds erupted from the machine, carving a swathe of dust and fragmentation through the wheat. Then through the trees the commander spotted a tank, rear on to his gun. Eagerly he shifted the gunner, but in their excitement the rounds flew long. They knew they had only seconds before one of the many vehicles managed to swing its turret around, but certainly this had to give them pause, as exposed as they were. The commander told the gunner to reengage the tank, even as he directed the driver to prepare to back down to avoid the inevitable return fire.



LT Upham huffed, as he dropped into the turret of his Bradley after climbing up the front and eschewing the rear crew door. He had unsnapped his combat vest and clipped it behind the turret hatch – accessible, but off of his body armor, which was now ‘slick’ to allow him rapid egress from the Bradley in the event of an emergency. He clipped in his headset – as a scout he wore an integrated headset rather than Combat Vehicle Crewmen (CVC) helmet – and told his driver to back up and then roll forward, and down the hill. “Sir,” his gunner said, “Gotta tell you something. We still got the Javelin in back.”
“What? Oh crap. How the hell... never mind.” Keying his mike:
“Outlaw Two-Tree, Outlaw One-Six, over.”
“23”
“See anything?”
“This is 23, we know where one is, but haven’t got it pinned down yet. Placing icon now.”
“Roger, I see it. Hey, I still have your Jav. Pull back and down a bit, and I’ll move to your fix with it. If he pops up I want you to nail him.”
“Roger, it’ll take us a sec to back down.”
This conversation occurred over the radio while Upham was simultaneously scanning as his driver pulled the track forward along the edge of the hill.
“Okay, driver stop here a sec. Gunner, he has the icon in that copse right... there. Scan it and see what you can make out.”


“CONTACT, BMP!!!” LT Upham was suddenly jarred by the strident voice in his headsest. It took a second to recognize that it wasn’t his own crew, but his heart was pounding nonetheless – one of his scouts was in contact.
“This is Outlaw, One-Six, roger, who and where?”
“This is Hellcat Tree-Tree-Golf, my direct front 800 meters. Engaging, out.”
Hellcat 33 was the Battalion Bradley Master Gunner’s truck. A long-time Cav Scout, SFC Bagby had volunteered to fill out the understrength scout section for this mission, and MAJ Abrams (his boss) had agreed. Now he was apparently on the ground, and his gunner had spotted an enemy vehicle and was engaging with his Mk19 automatic grenade launcher. The Mk19 is an extraordinarily versatile weapon. At first blush, it seems like a souped up M-203 or M-320, the over/under grenade launchers fitted to the M-4 carbine. However, the Mk19’s 40mm grenades fly further, faster, and carry much more punch. For this mission, and most in the Ukraine theater, the Mk19 was loaded with HEDP rounds, which contain both a shaped-charge armor piercing HEAT warhead capable penetrating up to 51mm of armor, with a fragmentation sleeve wrapped around it to kill or wound personnel. The Mk19 can spit these rounds out at nearly 325 rounds per minute, slower than a regular machinegun, but still several rounds per second. However, it is a relatively low-recoil weapon, making it suitable for mounting on standard machinegun pintles rather than in a dedicated turret with recoil absorbing mass or hydraulics. The low recoil is due to the relatively low velocity of the weapon – the rounds leave the muzzle at about 240meters per second – meaning that it is truly a grenade launcher and not a cannon. One can easily watch the rounds in flight on their way to their targets, and time of flight to its max range of 2000m is nearly 17 seconds. It takes training, experience, and a unique eye to be able to fire the Mk19 effectively at ranges outside about 500m where the loft of the rounds really begins to be significant. Fortunately, PFC Purtle had the eye. His first burst plunged down like a series of long fly balls to right field, bracketing the BMP-3 with explosions and rattling the vehicle with shrapnel. The second burst of fire struck home – Purtle saw at least three hits, and one looked really solid. The vehicle backed up and the PFC saw its smoke grenade launchers pop as his third burst was in the air. He also noted with fearful satisfaction that the turret never swung towards his truck, so perhaps they never spotted him. He fired another longer burst to hopefully keep the lethal beast from pulling back up, then told his driver to back up to mask them in case it did.
“Good shooting!” came SFC Bagby came over their internal radio net. “Next time though, announce it before you open up. I nearly ruined a good set of trousers!”






Note: SFC Bagby is visible at right front, in wheat field.

Leytenant Yuri Lysenko carefully raised his head again and peered over the parapet. He saw a puff of smoke from the treeline to his front, followed a second later by the report of a cannon shot, and he tracked the flight of the Russian BMP's shell, praying as it winged towards the base of hill 347. He exhaled loudly, as he saw the round splash just in front of the treeline, and caught a hint of movement as the Ukrainian BMP-2 backed down. After another moment, he paused, and then scanned off to the right, across hill 347 and the rolling fields beyond. Then he dropped back down and made another notation on his laminated mapsheet. He squeezed the handmike, stretched on its cord from the pack on the back of his radioman, and spoke again.
“No, I don’t know what happened to Two-Four in the town. I haven’t heard him either, your radio is good, over.”
A pause, as the other party responded.
“Yes, the Rosiys’ka company is up on the hill, but I don’t see anyone dismounted. But there is a truck at grid November-Kilo 017233. Suspected ATGM position. Fire mission, over.”
Another pause, and the LT nodded in satisfaction.
“Roger, standing by to spot.”



SGT Cox from Memphis, Tennessee could not believe what he was seeing. Not 60m away, just up the hill from the clump of brush that sheltered his three-man sniper team loomed a Russian BMP-3. The SGT had been just a young Private in the 1st Ranger Battalion during the last days of the US involvement in Afghanistan in 2015, and had seen scant combat. He had genuinely looked forward to this fight, and an opportunity to test his skills. Now he knew that if the enemy armored vehicle just lowered its sights a few degrees, his war was over. He was smart and a quick study, and it had seen him promoted to Sergeant after his time in the Rangers was up, and seen him through sniper school at Bragg. He knew the Russian track had a French thermal sight that literally could not miss spotting him and his team members if it was pointed in their direction. He sincerely hoped that someone would at least get out of the thing so he could get off a shot before he was blown to kingdom come. However, once it crested the rise it just sat there, as frozen as he and his two team members. SGT Cox slowly began lowering himself down to the prone, one slow inch at a time, and prayed for the opportunity to get to test his low crawl skills again.

In Krichek, artillery rounds continue to slam home. As KPT Kovtun directed, the young Ukrainian Forward Observer diligently copied down the fire mission information and plugged it into his vehicle’s network device. As he was doing so, he directed the driver of the PRP-4 – essentially a BMP with extra sensors and radios in place of the weapons - to pull the vehicle forward slightly for a better view. However, as he was tapping in numbers on the screen, his gloved hand mis-keyed a digit, and he had to back out of the menu and start over. Suddenly he realized the armored vehicle was still moving forwards – he looked up startled, and realized they had pulled out from behind the cover of the barn that was sheltering them. “No Maxsym! We must back up...” he never finished the sentence. A burst of heavy 30mm APFSDS rounds slammed into his vehicle at supersonic velocity, shredding the armor of the lower left hull and ripping through the fighting compartment. The first burst was followed seconds later by a second, and then a third. All in all, nearly 25 rounds penetrated. Inside, the young observer never knew what hit him. The gunner leapt from the turret, and the driver was a second behind him. As the gunner hit the ground, another artillery round slammed into the roof of the barn, the shrapnel taking off half of his head as at swatted his lifeless body to the ground. The driver fled for his life, pursued by an airbursting 100mm round from the same BMP-3 that had killed his chief. Peppered with shrapnel, but still moving, he dodged between buildings and dove into the cover of a nearby house, pasty white and shaking.





Elsewhere in Krichek, other elements of the Ukraine Home Guards responded to KPT Kovtun’s orders, repositioning to better meet the threat. They were initially aligned as a perimeter defense, but with no immediate threat from the east, the KPT quickly responded, and despite the continual artillery fire, two BMP-2s rolled from positions looking towards the east, towards the west, seeking gaps between buildings that would let them scan the far bank.



Soldat Koval was scared beyond measure. A veteran of skirmishes against the separatists in 2014, he never imagined combat could be like this. Russian riflemen on the far bank had spotted his team’s Skif ATGM position and were pouring AK fire onto them. Koval and his team crouched low in their hole, as the rounds zipped and sighed past them and through the trees over their heads.
“Look!” cried Vasily the gunner.
“I see,” said Koval, “Fire at him!”
The Skif missile, popped out of its launcher towards the BMP-3 that had just rolled forward into view across the river. A split instant later it slammed harmlessly into a tree.
“Dammit!” he cried, “Reload!” Training paid off as Vasily stayed rigidly locked on target, Koval and his assistant flung off the spent casing and grabbed for another missile. The team rocked as the BMP planted a 100mm round against a tree a few meters to their front. Koval bolted on another missile canister in less than ten seconds –“Go! Fire!” he shouted, and the second Skif flew. The range was short, less than 300m and it popped up then immediately dove directly into the BMP, detonating against the lower hull. An instant later, a tremendous series of explosions rocked the vehicle, as first its onboard ammunition, and then the infantrymen’s ammunition in the crew compartment, spontaneously detonated. Koval and his team picked themselves up, awed at the result, as the resultant wreckage smoked at the bottom of a meter-deep crater. Koval gazed over at his assistant – “Ihor, your hand.” The dazed private looked down and saw blood oozing from a hole in his glove. “Come on, that isn’t the last of them. Reload, and then we will bind that up.” Another AK round zipped through the trees over their heads, unheard in the shock of the explosive violence.

“Well, what do you think Tom?” LTC Shawn Falkner asked his S-3 Operations Officer, MAJ Thomas “Tank” Abrams. The stocky officer was well known for his last name, despite having no immediate family connection with the Abrams family for whom the tank was named.

“Not sure Sir. Upham is in visual contact time now, but doesn’t seem to have too much of a read yet. He did confirm the front edge of the Russian security zone from that Reaper pass earlier, but without some more eyes forward at this point, is hard to tell.”

Falkner’s Battalion, the 3-69 Armor “Speed and Power,” was on the move, heading northeast of Kiev and preparing to make contact with lead echelon Russian forces for the first time. They had struggled mightily with the deployment – desperate haste and agonizing hold ups, with every little last minute additional piece of gear or information precious, but hard bought in time to acquire it. Kissing wives and sons and daughter, sobbing at the airport, texting and video chatting from the staging base in Germany. Then the desperate work to draw, load, check, swap, arm, and recheck all of the gear and vehicles from the prep site – days without sleep, with seemingly a million vital problems all happening at once. Finally the armor on trains and headed for Poland, and the long bus rides to follow. Downloading and road marching the vehicles up to the Polish border and then, like a different world – arriving in Ukraine. People cheered them as they crossed the border, and lined the streets for them in L’viv. They laagered nearby a small town outside L’viv for nearly a week, as add-on armor and APS systems were flown in to them by C-130. Townspeople brought them bread, and stuffed dumplings, and harsh samohon liquor. Then they had rolled out, and almost immediately the dismaying news that A Company was detached to bolster the flagging combat power of 2d Cavalry Regiment – the Stryker Regiment had been fighting for weeks already and was rumored to be down to under 50% strength. So much news, and everyone pulling it from seemingly everywhere – nearly all the Soldiers were staying tied into the internet somehow – but no time to sort out reality from drama. And now they were into it. Called forward from their widely dispersed assembly areas the previous evening, they had roadmarched forward in darkness for 12 hours, covering nearly 130 km to the northern outskirts of Kiev. All of that to arrive here, facing a Tier 1 Russian mechanized force, face to face.

The 3rd Infantry Division had already made contact with the 27th Guards Armored Brigade and the 15th Motor Rifle Brigade. The meetings had not gone well for the Russians, but neither had the Dogface Soldiers (3rd ID’s Nickname) loved the initial encounters. The Russian equipment was startlingly modern, especially the T-90 main battle tanks. The Russian APS was not as good as the hastily equipped US one, but it did quite a good job at stopping the Bradley’s TOW2B ATGMs. Thankfully, it seemed less successful at dealing with Javelins, and the vehicle remained vulnerable to the Abrams Sabot rounds at nearly any range or angle. But it was fast, accurate, and its cannon could smash anything it hit. Several Abrams crews had already discovered that they were not nearly as invulnerable to it as they had believed. Further, the US Bradleys were very nearly overmatched by the Russian BMP-3s. The 15th seemed to have the very latest model with good ERA and an APS as well. Its 100mm cannon fired a wicked HEDP shell that could airburst as well as point detonating, and it had a ‘down the spout’ gun-launched ATGM it could fire as well. As if that wasn’t enough, it further sported a 30mm automatic cannon as a coax, which was capable of penetrating the Bradley at medium range, and that could also fire HE rounds to get more suppression or destruction on light targets. In initial fights it was evident that US training was still vastly superior to the Russian’s, but not by as much as everyone had hoped. As far as courage, tenacity and dirty tricks went, the Russians were at least the American’s equals.



Falkner and Abrams were crouching together in the back of the Major’s Bradley, looking together at the BFT II screen on a large MFD.



“SGT Lerner reports that his UKR partners are just about into a gunfight with this Russian company here, just forward of the Tree Farm. He reports that a full Motorized Rifle Company (MRC) with 3 tanks has moved forward onto the forward slope of 347. They are going to put their infantry at them from woods on the hill, but if that MRC brought all its dismounts, it will be a tough fight. The rest of the UKR company is going to spread the field right and left, with a PLT swinging to the north slope of the hill and another to the south of Starov village. Lerner says the terrain in there sucks, with a nasty system of dried up creeks running north-south that limit lateral movement.”
Falkner nodded as his S-3 continued.

“Lerner did find out thought that the UKR have an element still holding out at Ukepor Power Station – we are supposed to secure that in one piece if we can – and apparently this guy can see most of the Russian deployment. Confirmed the Reaper read on another MRC down here west of Provinska Dvor. They are behind the intervisibility line (IV line) so are out of LOS of the Ukrainian Company, but for certain they will pop up on this southern flank at an opportune time. Reaper had them pretty clustered up though, so if 1-41 can get their guns set we can probably plan on hitting them.”

“That’s a tempting target, but I’m not sure I want to commit our arty to it at the outset.” Falkner said.

“We still have no comms with Blackknight?” referring to B Company.

“No sir, not sure if its EW or what, but we still have no voice comms and are getting a good 7-9 minute lag over BFT II to them. I sent the update to stop shy of 00 Easting, but no idea if they got it.”

“Well, thank God for Upham’s TACSAT link. As he finds their security elements in the north we’ll need to target those first, as Blackknight may just blunder into them. Once we have these three forward positions taken down or suppressed, we can focus Blackknight on flanking the MRC on 347 from the north. Might need to commit the mortars to a smoke shot to set that up, but more likely we’ll need them to suppress some other target somewhere. Put a smoke mission along the north edge of 347 in their queue though. To the south, Steel (C Co) should be a bit better, with all this rough terrain as they reach the 00. Their position will depend upon how the UKR boys do against the stuff to their front. If they do well, we may be able to put some Jav teams up onto the south slope of 347 to keep this southern MRC’s head down while the rest of Steel hunts them up through this rough ground south of the highway. If they don’t do so well... well, Steel will have to face off the guys at the tree farm, the MRC on 347 AND the MRC to the south. No real long shots in here, so the Abrams will need to be careful. We’ll need to either put the CAS, the helos, or the arty on that southern MRC I think. Probably no way we can dump anything on 347 – we’ve already got guys in close contact there. Nice that Brigade found all these toys for us though. I think it looks as though we are fighting a mostly forward defense. I suspect that once we crack these two companies, and the different security and ATGM outposts, the penetration to Krichek should be pretty straightforward. These woods along the stream with infantry in them may be troublesome though, as they are reverse slope until you are right on em, so make sure we save some arty or mortar ammo. Our priority is to get to MAJ Harris. We’ll plan to penetrate through to him first, and then roll south to link up with the UKR boys at the grain storage and power plant. Steel should be able to control some of that with direct fire by the time they are done with the MRC in the south anyway. If need be we’ll pass Darkknight Company through Steel, but hopefully they will manage before they come up. In any case, Darkknight priority of commitment is to achieve the linkup in Krichek.”

“All right sir, sounds good. I have your intent, and I’ll be on the net. Any idea where you plan to be?” Abrams asked.

“Not yet – I’ll figure it out as we approach. I’ll follow you in my panzer until we get a bit closer, then I’ll break off.”

“Roger sir – Speed and Power!”

Power 6 hopped out the rear door of the Bradley and jogged the few meters to his M1. The heavy ARAT2 tiles looked like Roman Legion shields, but they made good handholds for pulling himself up on board. He heard the turbine winding up as he jumped up, his driver seeing him coming.

‘Well, this is it.’ He thought. ‘Lets see if we are really as good as we think we are.’

So, this hopefully gives you a better idea of 'the plan' as far as it goes. Really wish that the US scout force was backed up by its own artillery and mortars, as would usually be the case. Then I could be attriting the Russian security zone forces in the north with precision fires right now. Strangely, I suspect that the key to this mission will be getting good infantry positions to enable Javelin shots, rather than slamming tank duels. I just don't see the range and sight lines cooperating, but perhaps I'll be wrong. I am very concerned about what is going to happen over the next 10 turns on the slopes of 347. If my Russian adversary fully controls hill 347 by the time I show up - a not impossible outcome - I will have a tough time getting my forces onto the map alive. This map isn't set up with the arrival zones being generally out of LOS. For this title, that is a serious consideration for scenario designers, as ATGMs and Thermals can spot and hit across the map in one turn. I skipped a turn with some of my foreshadowing earlier, and have another turn to get done. Hopefully you can all hang on until tomorrow for the next post when we see a bit more high intensity.

PdPK Borys Levchenko watched as the mechanized infantrymen scrambled to execute KPT Antonyuk’s orders. As the 3rd PLT BMPs moved out to swing north, 2nd PLT began pulling up on line with Borys’ observation position. He nodded as he recognized the opening steps of the dance against the Russian vehicles and troops they had spied in the treeline ahead and by the tree farm. The Battalion Commander tsk’ed to himself as he realized that he and his security detachment were in the likely line of the Russian return fire. But, he didn’t want to his men to see him backing down or sending them to face what he was unwilling. He signaled Molodshiy Serzhant Mischenko, his BMP gunner: “Mischa, fire the smoke to cover his move!” he shouted. The attentive Sergeant’s head popped back down inside the track, and a second later the vehicle pivoted a few degrees to the left, and with a ‘Pop-pop-pop-pop!” a volley of smoke grenades arced into the field, belching black smoke. It was scant cover, but better than nothing Borys figured. He watched as the 2nd PLT lead vehicle moved up, its rear doors swinging open, infantrymen hurriedly offloading before the vehicle crested the fields edge and exposed itself to enemy fire as it began scanning for targets. He turned back and scanned the far treeline with his binoculars, praying to himself that his men would spot the enemy vehicles first. As he watched, behind the treeline, the first rounds of a new sheaf of artillery rained down on the Ukepor Power Station.



In Krichek, artillery also continued to pound the town. MAJ Harris ground his teeth as yet another shell detonated with a bone-jarring “Tchunnng!”
“That sounds like Vulcan’s own hammer!” Beach shouted.
“What, you reading Percy Jackson again? Aren’t you a little old for that?” Harris shouted back. His Netwarrior vibrated, and he quickly scanned the new message. SFC Doty reported that all of his troops were accounted for thus far, and none injured – surprisingly good news, considering the volume of fire. Harris looked up as he heard the another distinct sound over the artillery’s intermittent crash – a mechanical chuckle, as the AGS-17 automatic grenade launcher gunner at the south end of town opened up. Harris knew the weapon was positioned to cover the village on the far side of the river crossing and wondered what was drawing the gunner’s fire. They had mined approach to the bridge on both sides, but not thoroughly enough to stop a determined push, and it was vital to keep the bridge itself open. Despite the fact that the Russians were on the other side, friendly lines lay beyond them, and Harris for one had no interest in seeing the inside of a Russian POW camp. As an advisor team leader, he had gotten the classified SERE brief during his hasty train up before deployment. It was unknown exactly what the Russian policy on western EPWs would be, so the instructors had used examples of captured Afghan Mujahedeen and Islamic Chechen rebels. Needless to say, that was more than enough to convince the advisor leaders that death might indeed be preferable to capture. Harris’ tablet vibrated once again, and he cursed this time as he read it. One of the Home Guard ATGM teams had taken casualties. SFC Doty tied the report to an enemy icon on the far side of the river, so Harris presumed they were under direct fire from the far bank rather than taking artillery fire. Still, they had only a few precious ATGM teams in the town, including the single Javelin section from Harris’ own security team. Losing one would be a serious loss. Harris tapped back a quick ‘keep me updated,’ and then began tapping out a SITREP to his higher command.

Harris turned, to take another scoop with his E-tool, and suddenly found himself flat at the bottom of the hole. It took a moment for the shock of the sudden explosion to register – up close explosions don’t go “Ka-boom!” they go “Tchunk!” - all of the sound in one instant, with little time for the recipient to register the reverberations afterwards. An instant later Harris was slammed even further down into the hole, as PFC Beach arrived on his back. “Yours is deeper Sir, make room!” Harris wasn’t sure what size the incoming rounds were, but they seemed to be smashing in all over Krichek. He prayed that the few men Tymo had placed on the roof with one of their precious ATGMs would be alright, and that everyone else would seek cover in a ground floor. Over the thudding of the barrage, he also made out the distinctive crack of AK-fire coming from the direction of the river. They would be busy once the barrage lifted, Harris thought. He elbowed Beach in the side, pulled his knee further down into the hole, and pressed his hand over his earpiece to monitor the radio. Once SFC Doty had an idea of the situation he would call.



Borys was surprised at the sudden fall of incoming rounds – the muffled thundering from Krichek was loud, even at this distance, with rolling “Booms!” echoing from the nearby hills. At nearly the same instant, Borys noticed dust trails rising up from beyond the tree farm to his front. “Sir!” KPT Antonyuk called him over excitedly, waving his radio handset, “ It is Yuri! I mean, Leytenant Lysenko! I know him from school. He is up in the power plant and can see Russian mechanized forces pushing towards us! He says they are heading for our hill!” Good to have a friend, Borys thought, and quickly looked back to the dust with his binoculars. “How many, and how fast are they....” The KPT quickly replied, “He says it is at least a company, and..” “Kshunk!” Another explosion, this one closer, announced the end of one of the advancing Russian vehicles. KPT Antonyuk continued, “and, that they have just lost one BMP-3. The rest are still racing forward!” PdPK spun around from the view of the approaching dust. “Quickly Vasyl! Get your lead PLT up and moving. Onto the hill and get their Soldaty out of the vehicles and into anti-armor teams quickly! They won’t dare flatten the hill with artillery now! But our men must get to good positions before they get there! We want to be waiting for them. Move! And try to protect those Ami’s up there as while they are at it. We cannot afford to let too many of them die for our homeland today.”




Starshiy Bondarenko gasped in shock as the shells rained down on Krichek. He simply could not believe that he was here and that this was happening. Six months prior, all he had cared about was playing handball with his friends, and now he was crouched in the open for all the world to see on top of a building, while Hell itself slammed down from the sky. The noise was mind boggling. “Ahov!” his friend Sasha called, as he pointed southwest over the parapet. Bondarenko cautiously raised his head, and the shells were suddenly forgotten as he saw the dust trail and then the Russian Infantry Carrier itself speeding away from the town... and towards his home in Kiev. Not today. Bondarenko picked up his Corsar missile system, the sight already switched on and ready. The Corsar was a relatively new weapon, an internal Ukrainian development. A laser beam guided semi-active command line of sight (SACLOS) weapon, all the young Starshiy need do was launch the thing and keep the crosshairs in the sight glued to the target. The tandem warhead was easily powerful enough for a BMP-3, especially from this angle. As hefted the heavy launcher, Sasha called out the range from their range card – Pidpulkovnyk Tymoshenko and the American Major had coached them through drawing yesterday. The American scout’s laser range finder said it was 1350m to the corner of the tree farm, easily within the Corsar’s range. With a whooshing roar, the missile leapt from its tube and sped away, trailing a little smoke, with the heat from its exhaust distorting one’s view like a mirage. A little hop up into the air as it acquired its guidance laser, and then it tracked straight and true until scant seconds later it slammed into the Russian vehicle and detonated. The infantry carrier rocked with the impact, and rolled on a few meters further, before its hatches flew open and panicked men bailed out on both sides. Bondarenko could not hear them – he was half deaf from the shelling and the launch, but their agitation was clear, as smoke began to boil from the stricken vehicle. He gazed in amazement, first at the distant burning vehicle and then at the smoking launcher in his hands. Then he automatically began disconnecting the spent missile casing and replacing it. As Sasha moved forward with a reload, PkPK Tymoshenko’s grizzled head popped out of the roof access hatch. “We heard it launch – did you hit? Good! But one will have to do for now. Get down here before they switch to airburst rounds and you are both turned into ground sausage!” The two Starshiy crouched low and fumbled with their cumbersome weapons as they sprinted for the ladderway and the scant safety of the stories below.



As he finished recalling the ATGM team, PdPK Leonid Tymoshenko nearly ran into KPT Viktor Kovtun the Infantry commander of the Home Guard element. Tymo’s command was technically the Air Defense and Missile unit here in the Krichek, and in the entire sector, but as senior officer he was also in overall charge of the town defense. If Viktor resented this, he was quite good at keeping it to himself. Now he told his commander that the artillery observers at the north end of town had spotted enemy infantry quite close on the far bank of the river. They claimed to be in radio contact with the relief force’s mortars, and wanted permission to call fire on the enemy. Tymo gave a small shrug. “You recommend this?” The young KPT nodded quickly, “These infantry are taking two of our other missile teams under fire, and the mortars will do little to the armored vehicles. What use is unfired ammunition if we aren’t around to count it afterwards, Sir? I say let them shoot.”
“Very well, approved.” The KPT turned immediately to his radioman, as the salt and pepper scrub brush of his bare headed PdPK disappeared down the steps. He wanted to find the Amerikanskiy Major and see what his intelligence said now... preferably after the shelling stopped of course.

A few kilometers to the west, KPT Antonyuk crouching just below the lip of the bank, shouted hasty orders into his mike, and gestured to his platoon leaders who were looking at him from their vehicle hatches. “The Russians are attacking US, not the other way around! We must prepare to meet them.”

“2d Platoon dismount your men and get them moving towards the hill. Then send a track up here to see about this far treeline. The Pulkovnyk says there is a Russian BMP over there, break.”
“1st PLT, you need to spread out to the right and try to get eyes on the far treeline – I think that village is too low to see from.”
“3d PLT will bound 300m north to the far slope of the hill and establish a dismounted position oriented on the crest and eastern slope. All elements, be alert for Russian armor moving up from the east, and please try not to kill the Americans – their sniper team and forward observers are over there, on the south slope.”
“Execute your orders and keep your men focused on our homeland and our mission. Are there any questions, over?”
There were none, and Vasyl saw his lieutenants all speaking into their microphones in turn, alerting their men to the change in plans. He turned back to watch the dust rising from the advancing Russian force, barely a kilometer distant, thankful for the reverse slope that hid them – at least temporarily – from the Russian fire. As he watched, a single pyre of black smoke rose from the center of the dust, and the KPT cheered silently and sent a brief prayer for victory, followed immediately by a second quick prayer for his wife and young son. Then he rechecked his AK and slipped back down the slope – he saw no need to provide any further target for the advancing Russians to acquire and had seen all he needed to for now.



To the North, LT Upham also saw the dust rising. It took him almost thirty seconds longer to figure out exactly what it was, but he reached the same conclusion as his allies if a moment later. He hunkered down another few seconds and tapped a few lines of text into his Netwarrior tablet, instantly generating a spot report for the moving Russian company on all US platforms in theater, and then raised his head again. He was frustrated at his inability to fix any actual Russian positions, and knew he would have to risk their fire to try and spot them from closer in. The earlier UAS pass had yielded some tentative locations to his front, but he knew his platoon had to pin down hard locations and confirm earlier positions weren’t merely deception locations before committing artillery fires to neutralize them or sending in the tanks and Bradleys. Even the Abrams didn’t like getting hit with the new Russian ATGMs, and the Brads – including his – were terribly vulnerable. They had to get effective suppression going – of course, the mortars were still on the move, and the Paladin’s sliced to support 3-69 hadn’t come on line yet either. He didn’t know why, he just knew that the Fire Direction Center (FDC) said no fires yet. Which was totally jacked up – the S-3 had told him they would have priority of fires by the time they got up on the enemy, but right now they would have to settle for harsh language and maybe a TOW missile if things got really rough. Glenn might not be an Iraq or Afghanistan vet, but he knew better than to go looking for a gunfight with just his Brad, no wingman and no artillery. He swept the fields once more with his binos in frustration, casting about for any glint or angle out of place, but found nothing. He sighed, and slipped back down the slope towards his idling armored vehicle.

Borys had listened as Antonyuk gave his orders. He and the KPT had only needed to speak a few terse sentences to generate the movement. He was frustrated – this was not good ground for a defense, even if the range would play into their favor, but the Russians had the initiative and Borys hated that. But, if he could keep them occupied until the Amerikansky showed up, they might find they had their hands quite full. He looked towards SGT Lerner and raised an eyebrow. Lerner immediately turned to his interpreter, who instantly repeated “15 minutes.” The American and Borys looked at one another and nodded together, both knowing that could be a very long time indeed.

Sorry about the quantity of pics. I just forgot to take one of ol' LT Upham, but will show him bravely jumping back on his Brad next turn. Will also continue to work to improve the pix themselves. I hope to have some form of reference graphics worked out by the time this is over, with a north seeking arrow, and perhaps some CPs to help orient photos to their location on the map/battlefield. Will see how it goes. Still learning the ins and outs of Photoshop. More soon.

1LT Glenn Upham from Rockingham, NC, otherwise known as “Outlaw 16,” trembled with excitement as he gazed down from the side of a bare hill past waving fields of wheat and barley to the distant rooftops of Krichek a mile and a half or so to his east. A veteran of the closing days of US involvement in Afghanistan, he new he was exposed, and should try to slither down the slope to his idling Bradley, but he needed to see and understand what lay to his front, so he accepted the risk a little longer. Upham had labored his whole military career to overcome the accident of his name – how was he at fault for the fact that the mousy clerk typist from “Saving Private Ryan” was also named Upham? Well, CPL Upham had survived to the end of that fight, and Glenn firmly intended to survive this one. BCT HQ had clearly shown the Russian mech battalion moving into sector the day prior. The Brigade S-2 still thought he had firm grids on several vehicles. Further, the reports from the Security Force Assistance Team (SFAT) that had hung on with the Home Guard force in Krichek confirmed the strength of the force to their front. Upham knew it was his PLT’s job to ferret out their specific locations and survive the effort, to pave the way for the other battalion elements that followed him. He could even now see his PLT SGT, SFC Bagby, working his HMMWV scout section forward to get better observation. His main concern was what to do if they found anything. Though he had solid comms to BN, the Battle CPT had told him that they would not have priority of fires for another quarter hour or so. He had called up SGT Lerner with the Ukrainian Battalion to his right and coordinated for mortar support, but had no real confidence in the speed, accuracy or ammunition supply of their allies, especially if both units were in contact simultaneously. Lerner had assured him that their friends had both ammo and competence, but admitted they were not too speedy. Upham spoke in a low voice, checked the text message in his tablet for accuracy, and hit ‘send’ requesting an update on A CO’s ETA, and then gathered up his binos to slip back down to his track.



In Krichek, Major Nathan Harris cursed as he hit another rock. He and his driver were digging a couple of quick foxholes, as Harris would not let the young PFC do both himself. Despite the fact that they were right next to a stone building, Harris routinely insisted on burrowing into the soil for cover. PFC Beach had silently bitched, whined and cussed him – communicating without vocalizing a word – every time they did, right up until the first time they were shelled by Russian 122mm Howitzers. Since then Beach had taken to simply asking Harris if he wanted the HMMWV’s shovel or pick first every time they stopped. Beach was also eager to scrounge up something to replace the three heavy railroad ties he had used for overhead cover and had been forced to abandon at their last hasty departure from Khirovorad ten days prior. Harris stopped for a moment and swigged some bottled water. PdPK Tymoshenko was a solid Soldier, for an air defender, and Harris was impressed that he had stayed with his remaining troops until further evacuation of the town became impossible. But their disposition in Krichek worried him. They had seen signs of the Russians’ advance, and Harris had followed along on his BFT2 and shared the scene with Tymo, laying out the Russian recon CO’s general frontline trace as they reconnoitered around the town, and now he looked at the solid red blobs that represented much more significant Russian Armor and Mech forces. Though they had some good support weapons and a fair amount of ammo, Harris feared they could not survive a determined assault. Their meager supply of mines was barely enough to provide harassing defense on a few intersections, and aside from some hastily strung wire they had no other fortifications. Harris helped Tymo plan for some deception with the wire, hoping to force the Russians to deploy and treat each obstacle as (doctrinally) overwatched by fire. The two of them had withdrawn their remaining forces to the corner of town nearest the bridge, their only potential means of escape, and had barricaded up the Town Hall as a mini fortress. ATGMs were sighted for short, quick shots and their ADA weapons had abandoned their primary role and were sighted now to provide quick, lethal automatic fires. After much debate, Tymo had pulled all but two of his five squads of infantry into the town and away from the critical power station and grain storage sites. They simply didn’t have enough men or support weapons to squander them all over the place, and Harris knew they would find ample challenge defending the town. He pulled up his BFT2 message screen to see if there was any update on 3-69 Armor – “Speed & Power” movement forward.

This scenario is designed to highlight many of the new features in Combat Mission: Black Sea. Set in late July of 2017, the conflict itself springs from continued antagonism between Russia and Ukraine, and a Ukrainian bid to join the west, NATO and the EU. Continued low-intensity conflict in Luhansk and Eastern Ukraine erupts when Russia moves in to support the separatists openly. A NATO expeditionary force deploys and is soon embroiled in full scale fighting, leading to continued escalation and deployment against a backdrop of Russian full scale invasion and a tremendous campaign for control of the skies. In the North, all focus is on Kiev, with Russian forces pushing hard to completely encircle the city, while a BCT from 3d US Infantry Division, finally completes its deployment and slams into the Russian forces.



Situation:
0400 hrs, 28 July 2017, Northern Front, North East of Kiev.
The front line has been adjusted on the situation maps more times than any operations officer cares to remember. The 3rd Infantry Division is finally moving to establish a line north east to shield Kiev from the Russian 15th Motorized Brigade which is advancing toward the vital town of Krichek. Ukrainian Home Guard troops are holding the Russians to the north and east with the help of a US Cavalry Squadron.

At 06.00hrs this morning a garbled message came from a Ukrainian home defense unit to the north of Kricheck and then American Cavalry scouts reported intense pressure on the front lines to the north and north east by strong Russian Armored units. Forced to fall back or be overrun, the Cavalry elements tried to keep the Russians from splitting the defenses. All was going well until a strong thrust by the 15th Motor Rifle Brigade and the 27th Guards Armored Brigade struck a seam between disorganized Cavalry Troops, and rushed toward Krichek. A Russian breakthough was achieved.
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Flash Message
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Ukrainian Home Guard company and Security Force Assistance Team have been encircled in and around the town of Krichek.
Friendly forces still hold the power station, Ukrainian Government Grain Storage Facility, Textile Mill, The Town and require relief ASAP.
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Enemy Forces
Russian forces appear to be from the 27th Guards Armored Brigade and the 15th Motor Rifle Brigade. These two units have been rotating troops into and out of the area along the 3rd Infanrty Divisions front line to the east and north east. These units appear to have been rebuilt after earlier operations in early July.
In the area of operations the Russians have deployed at least 2 motor rifle companies and 2 platoons of Armor from the 15th motor Brigade in positions around the town of Krichek.
Support elements from the 15th motor rifle brigade along with a company of Armor from the 27th Guards Armored Brigade are also nearing the eastern edge of the area in question.
Attack Helicopters and some strike aircraft have been detected heading toward the Krichek area and with this support the Russians may be about to take the town and industries.

Friendly Forces
Ukrainian 4th Home Guard company - in and around Krichek and its vital Industries.
US SFAT assigned to 4th HG CO.
1st ABCT, 3rd Infantry Division BCT - west of Kricheck, preparing to counter attack and relieve Krichek and its defenders.
A Co 21st UKR Mech (OPCON)
Stetson 32 2 x AH-64D Longbow
Cougar 44 2 x F-15E Strike Eagles.



Mission
NLT 0815, TF 3-69AR “Speed and Power” attacks in zone to seize Krichek and relieve UKR Home Guards Company and US SFAT to deny Russian control of river crossing and eliminate Russian Mech/Armor forces in zone.

Execution: UKR 21st Mech BN(-) establishes support by fire position focused on CPs E and G to secure TF approach march and focus RUS forces on penetration from center sector. O/o, B and C Teams envelop RUS mech elements, seizing key terrain and focusing fires to control primary crossing point on river. D Co (the main effort) follows C Co in the South, assaults through CP G to seize crossing and execute link up with encircled forces. Key to this operation is effective ID and neutralization of RUS AT systems in zone, effective use of screening smoke, and tactical patience to allow CAS/RWATK to attrit RUS forces.


Pidpolkovnyk (PdPK/LTC) Borys Levchenko looked out and across the tall field of oilseed rape as he contemplated the terrain. Kapitan Vasyl Antonyuk his first company commander peered through his binoculars a few meters away. SGT Michael Lerner, US Army crouched behind a tree, with his ever-present interpreter surreptitiously smoking a cigarette. The field rose up to the east in front of them, and was bordered on the far side by the edges of tree farm. In to the right they could catch glimpses of the highway to and could see the tops of the stacks from the Ukepor Power Station standing out above the trees to the southeast. To the northeast, he could just see the rooftops of the town of Krichek. The Pidpolkovnyk contemplated the mission before him. His friend, and former neighbor, Pidpolkovnyk Tymoshenko was the “Home Guard” commander in Krichek. Activated from his reserve status in Kiev, and sent to Krichek, Tymo had phoned Borys yesterday morning to tell him that Krichek had been encircled by Russian forces. Though authorized to leave, Tymo had been unable to muster sufficient transport for his men. He had gotten about a hundred out in his last trucks, but had kept his meager armor and intended to make the Russians pay in blood to stabilize this part of their front line. Amazingly, their Amerykans’ky vzvod of Advisors had remained with them in the town, despite ample time to withdraw. Borys glanced over at Lerner – a mere Sergeant, assigned to him, a Lieutenant Colonel of Mechanized Infantry, with combat experience stretching back to the first fight for Donetsk in 2014! The Sergeant’s boss was a Major – Borys had met him once a week ago at Brigade HQ and not seen him since. In fairness, SGT Lerner from the American 3rd Infantry Division, had made an effort to be deferential and sincere. He had twice made significant contributions, once by supplying Borys with American Satellite photos and maps of the area around Kiev, and once by showing him video feed from an Amerykans’kyy bezpilotnyk drone, which had neatly identified a Russian ambush on the highway ahead, and a saved one of LTC Levchenko’s companies a tough fight. Borys was grateful for the help, and even more grateful for the might of the US military, amazingly committed to freeing his country from the tyranny of the Russian oppressors. Levchenko had followed US actions in Iraq and Afghanistan for nearly his whole professional life, and had marveled at the diplomatic naiveté and blunt arrogance of America. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined they would commit to shedding blood – likely in no small quantities – for the sake of his homeland’s unity and freedom. He contemplated Lerner a moment more, and then returned to the task at hand.



Levchenko’s mechanized battalion was still recovering from a rocket strike that smashed into his assembly area a week prior. The total casualty count was 112 men, 23 of them dead. The battalion was now awaiting reconstitution from Kiev. Only the 3rd Company remained combat effective – in fact untouched from the strike. They were now behind him, neatly and efficiently herring boned along a low dry creekbed, awaiting his order to attack. Before them, somewhere between their position in the woods and the distant Krichek rooftops, were the Russians, awaiting them. Borys knew – because SGT Lerner had told him – that the better part of a Russian mech battalion lay between him and his friend. He had seen the American’s intel feed on the Sergeant’s tactical tablet, and thought that the Americans certainly did have incredible toys. He just hoped that they could fight as well. Thus far he had not fought directly alongside the US forces, although the stories from his friend in 2d Brigade sounded quite promising – supposedly their Abrams tanks were all but invincible! Well, they were not here yet, and Borys’ commander had relayed that preparing the battlefield before Krichek for them was Borys’ and his men’s job.



Levchenko considered the ground. He was positioned at right side of a commanding wooded slope that he sincerely hoped held no Russians scouts. Borys intended to occupy this hill as swiftly as possible. Though likely to draw artillery, it commanded most of the ground all the way to Krichek, and with the sporadic trees on its slopes would make an ideal spot for a couple of observer teams. To his rear lay the little ville of Starov, currently occupied by his mortar Battery and Antonyuk’s 1st Platoon. Borys relayed to KPT Antonyuk that this platoon should assume tactical overwatch positions in and forward of the village and neutralize any Russians in the treeline to their front. For the rest of his lone company Borys intended to maneuver forward onto the right slopes of the hillside. In this way they need only engage the Russians on the right, with their left secured from observation against the slope. Once they held fire superiority to their right, they could slip forward and secure the tree farm. Though it offered scant cover, it was ideally positioned as a jump off point to move on either Krichek itself or the power plant. The little farm track that led along the right side of the hill seemed to offer some good low ground to screen much of this move, so Borys was fairly confidant in reaching the tree farm. Once there, SGT Lerner had told him that US forces were not far behind. In fact, though he had not seen them, Borys knew that a US recon force was maneuvering on the left side of the same hill he was moving to occupy. Lerner’s tablet also revealed a Russian mech PLT just east of the hill, reinforced with at least one tank. Borys was wary of this, but all in all he preferred a close in fight with the Russians. They had similar equipment, and the short range knife fight that ensued would likely go to the one who seized the initiative.

FWIW, Bil sent me back the turn in which my US reinforcements arrive last night.  I will take some time catching my turns up before returning it to him so that we can try to release the 'mayhem turns' fairly simultaneously.   I really owe "The Teacher" one on this though, as my reinforcements arrive on-map undeployed, in beautiful Red Square'esque Parade Formation, hubcap to hubcap.  Should be interesting to see if I can get them uncoiled without major losses.  Looks like a mech-heavy team in the North and a tank heavy one in the south, along with BN CDR, XO/S3, rest of the scouts, 2 ravens, 1 Gray Eagle, Mortar PLT, 2 firing PLTs of Paladins, an Apache and a couple Jets.  Will be interested to see if Bil gets reinforcements as well.  Could make TG 22 highly vulnerable, if they have entrance locations like mine.  If he does not get substantially more stuff, I am feeling pretty confidant.  I have 3 PLTs of Abrams on map now, and stand to get a fourth if needed.  Seems almost like overkill, but I don't want to be over arrogant about it.  Current decisions facing Power 6:
 
- His tank is the single most exposed of the entire force.  Pop smoke now as initial action or wait for the APS to launch upon getting lased?  Back up to map edge, or bound forward fast for covered position (and potentially eat a T90 round or two enroute)?
- Burn an arty fire mission on southern MRC?  Starting mortars on hill 347 is a no-brainer, although the stuff on that hill may not last long enough for them to hit.  FA on the south will  take 5 or 6 minutes by which time Bil will likely have adjusted, but if I go slow/deliberate it could still fall on some of his stuff.
- Launch a raven now, or wait to see if I can zap both Tunguskas first?  I am pretty sure the one on Hill 347 is too far forward to live long, but the one in the south could back out, haul ass into the hinterlands and take substantial hunting to find and extinguish.
- Suppress Southern MRC, maneuver north and over hill 347 to swing everyone across the northern fields, and seize the river crossings?  Or seize 347 from the North, base of fire oriented SSE and bound the tank heavy team through the close terrain to overwhelm the enemy in the south?  I am leaning towards the former, as I don't relish the fight through the heavy draws in the south, but might go that way if I think crossing the northern fields would be too costly.  In either case, I am placing tank and Jav fires all over the north/south side of 347 w/in 3 turns.
- How much of the Infantry to dismount immediately against the possibility of Brads eating tank fire?  Don't want to lose any more Javs than I have to, though I have a LOT of them.  They actually represent a bit more lethality than the Brads they are riding in.  (Micro-spoiler:  SPC O'Brian is going to NAIL a T-90 soon!)
- Do I need any immediate screening smoke anywhere to cover initial moves?
 
Note that his decisions combine personal interaction with the battlefield with decisions affecting his entire force.  This is typical of a front-line tactical commander, and something fascinating that CM is able to present in perspective.  Looking forward to this, and I'll post out of content discussion of the decisions ongoing as I get the story caught up over the next few days. 

“Vovk, Brytva 22 at checkpoint 2.  No sign of enemy.  We see nothing at the farm.  We are continuing.”
Serzhant Klim Levitsky, commander of Tunguska Razor 22 was so scared he could barely hold still.  Yet his fear gave him focus, and his crew simply thought he was extraordinarily attentive to his duty.  As air defense soldiers, their training and education was a notch above the infantry and other combat soldiers.  Klim had two years at University!  But ever since the Russian invasion, their world had narrowed to the grease, wiring and electrical tape necessary to keep their complex vehicle rolling and operating.  Though the electrical components were sealed, Levitsky had taught them together how to troubleshoot basic faults using a wiring diagram and a breakout box.  Their Battery mechanic had helped, although the radar tech had cautioned them to leave the fire control system alone.  He also led them through training drills, using their system to track birds visually, and to run the appropriate tests and checks on the missiles, fuze setters, lead computing sight, slew and elevation mechanisms and the cannon feed systems.  A nightmare of complexity when compared with a simple main battle tank, yet Serzhant Levitsky loved it, and was grateful for the opportunity to systematically engage any aircraft that came within his weapon’s range.
 
Unfortunately, Levitsky was not quite emotionally prepared for the chaos of combat.  While his technical and tactical skills were first rate, adapting oneself to the understanding that nothing was ever going to go according to plan was difficult for the orderly young college student.  Assigned to the Krichek air defense sector, he had absorbed the air defense plan, airspace control measures, IFF settings and learned to follow the rules of engagement to prevent them from engaging a NATO aircraft (and potentially losing NATO Air Support!).  But as the situation in Krichek became more desperate, he started getting anxious.  While his less organized peers adapted grimly to the new tasks of building a ground defense, Klim stuck doggedly to his air defense doctrine.  Not until KPT Kovtun himself had carefully walked him through the rehearsal for his role, had he allowed himself to accept that he might actually execute this plan.  Now he was rolling forward, unsupported to check out a Russian recon truck that had been spotted earlier by LT Lysenko, and his mind was reeling.  The artillery of the last half hour had rattled him badly, and his linkage to the command and control nets only fueled his fears as station after station stopped reporting, some with audible finality.  He fully expected to see the deadly snout of a Russian T-90 leveled at him with every new meter of ground he could see.  Only the familiar acid-tang smell electronics mixed with grease had kept him stable.  Outwardly though, he remained not only in control but rigidly focused, rattling off precise clipped commands and scanning literally non-stop.
“Gunner, ground burst, four-zero rounds, at the left side of the building,” he spoke into his intercom headset.
“Identified, armed,” said the gunner, followed an instant later by the radar operator:
“Safety off!”
“Fire.” 
“Firing!” 
The buzz saw whined, the twin cannons firing at a combined rate of well over 4000 round per minute, spitting a greater weight of explosive at the building than a tank round.  The building shuddered under the impact. 
“Repeat engagement, fire.” Another burst spat out, followed by another.  On the third, the building collapsed in a heap. 
“Confirm no truck,” the Serzhant said.
“Nothing,” the gunner responded.
“We have alerted the enemy – wide area scan,” Levitsky said.  As he spoke, a loud detonation sounded just outside the track to the left.  Peering through his cupola window, he calmly said:
“Correction, scan left.  Infantry 100 meters.” The turret slewed instantly to the ten o’clock position.
“I see them!”
“Gunner, ground burst, four-zero rounds, Infantry, fire!”  Klim’s voice finally rose as he gave the command to kill another human being, but his whirling mind that wanted to blubber uncontrollably was locked into near-robotic adherence to his repetitive training.  The Russian scout, inexplicably trying to run after his near miss with the RPG, suddenly reversed course when the twin lines of destruction blasted parallel paths to his front and rear. 
“Miss, reengage, fire and track.”
“Firing!”
This time the rounds physically struck the sprinting Russian, blowing his torso nearly in half and tossing pieces of him into the nearby trees.  Klim’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head in shock, but his voice remained ice cold and smooth.
“Return to wide area scan.”
“Look, another one!” the gunner sang out.  Again Klim responded automatically,
“Gunner, ground burst, five-zero rounds, Infantry, fire.” 
This time the burst caught the second Russian the first time, fragments tossing him to the ground like a shotgun blast to a running hare.  His blood painted the grass, and Klim could see his eyes go glassy through his magnified sight. 
“Continue to scan.  Radar Operator, check feed chute linkages and compensator fluids.” 
Klim told himself that he could handle this.  He would get used to it and it would somehow become okay.  He thought about the fact that he had just blotted two or more men from the planet, but then immediately refocused on how to keep his track alive.  He knew his designated route for this patrol, but also knew that he was unlikely to have killed all the scouts that threatened his fragile track.  Gears in his mind whirred and clicked into a new pattern, and he spoke again.
“Hey, uh, driver.  When we move out, we’ll pull back around behind these trees, not out in front of them.  And I want you to focus on keeping the ride nice and smooth so Mykola can scan, okay?  That was really well done.  We are in it deep, but we will get through it together. Remember our training, but think hard about what we must do.”  He wiped sweat from his brow and rubbed his gloved hands on his thighs. 
“Here, guns, have some water.  Everyone take a drink, but save the vodka for later.  We need to stay sharp.” 
“Vovk, this is Brytva 22.  Engaged and killed two enemy scouts.  Cannot identify truck.  Continuing patrol.” 
 
http://youtu.be/DiLjwZjG7k8
 
Brytva 22 is actually Robocop
 
In Starov village, LT Martynyuk was angry.  He knew what was happening – his experience back in 2014 left him in no doubt that the wheels had come off the car, and his mortar platoon was in trouble.  He strode towards one gun team to get confirmation on their round count – he knew he could call, but felt the urge to see his men up close.  As he approached the section truck, he felt a shock through the ground that merged with a concussive ‘Boom!’ from just beyond the village.  He looked, and saw another column of smoke marking the end of yet another Ukrainian BMP.  He looked over at the gun crew, then up at the cab of the truck.  The driver was smoking a cigarette. 
“Soldat.  You have an RPG, yes?”
Like a child caught with a sweet, the young man froze his mouth agape, staring at the officer as though the words were in a foreign language.
“Well, do you?”
“Yes, Leytenant!”
“Get it, get all your ammo, and go over to that building there.  Tell the Serzhant of 1st Platoon that you are there to help.  If any Russian tanks come through, I am counting on you to stop them.  You understand?  You must cover us – we cannot fight tanks with mortars”
Breathing hard, the pimple-faced soldier jumped down from the cab.
“Yessir.  I…   I will.  I understand.”  He fumbled with his ammo satchel with the rockets sticking out, but got it slung and jogged off without another word.
Martynyuk watched him go, wondering if he would ever see him again.  He needed to ask him his name.
 

Seconded.  Of the four, I would want Poland the most.  Worked with them in AFG.  Impressive conventional soldiers, and very solid home-produced kit.
 
Although, throwing in the Turks, Kurds,Georgians,  and Azerbaijani's might be interesting.  No idea the equipment mix of the latter two anymore, but could make for another plausible dust up.  Would obviously not occur in Ukraine though.  Hmm...

To give scope, I am four turns behind on posts, and believe that my reinforcements likely arrive next turn.  So, on the fifth or so post following this one we should see some real mayhem.  Bil appears to be moving slowly post-Xmas, so I will try to get caught up.  May make another post tonight/tomorrow, if I don't go fishing.  ;-)  Per previous request I am limiting my pix to 1024 wide.  If you folks want them bigger - 1200 or 1600 - let me know.  Might stretch some monitors, but I know I don't see the details on my (fairly good) monitor at 1024.  

As the Russian forces relentlessly move forward over Hill 347, they keep the remnants of the Ukrainian 3d Company in a deadly crossfire.  Overwhelming firepower, accurate gunnery and the amazing spotting advantage of their more modern vehicles complete the destruction of their Ukrainian enemies.  The southern Mechanized Rifle Company (MRC) keeps up a devastating long range suppressive fire on the orchard, pinning LT Upham and SSG Svendson’ Javelin Team.  To the south side of the hill, a Russian T-90 dispatches the last 3d Company command BMP-2 with a casual point-blank shot, as one of his southern MRC comrades does the same to the final 1st PLT BMP-2, completing the destruction of the company.  The only surviving combat effective Soldiers are the 1st Platoon Leader and his dismounted squads, now preparing for a desperate last stand in the Starov Village. 
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJHvg64eaGY
 
PdPK Borys Levchenko was bleeding.  He felt along his lower back, and brought his hand back to see the blood.  His RTO pulled out another dressing and lifted his tunic to apply it as the senior officer knelt behind a tree. 
“Sir.”  SGT Lerner approached quickly through the trees, crouching low.  He dropped to a knee next to the haggard Ukrainian.
“Sorry Sir.  Our intel had no idea the Russians would attack into us like this.  I’m not sure if they updated or not – I’m out of comms now.  The Russians must be jamming us.  I’d like to tell you they’ll be here soon, but I just don’t know.”
“Yes, we both should have known better, eh?”  Borys replied. 
“Now we have no troops left, but we have stung a Russian or two, and we know exactly where they are.  Can you not get the information to your forces?  If you can kill these devils with your precision weapons my men will not have died for nothing!” 
Lerner took off his sunglasses and looked straight into the older man’s eyes.
“Believe me Sir, I am trying, and so are the scouts up north.  I see about a company down there to the south, and estimate another company coming over 347.  They must have left something back to keep Krichek bottled up.  I’ve seen two Russian Tunguska, one to the south, and one right over there on 347.  If we want air support to help, those have to go down.”
Borys raised a pained eyebrow: “What exactly do you expect us to bring them down with?” 
“Not sure Sir.  Try to keep everyone that’s left down and keep eyes on them.  If we can hang on until Battalion gets here we can send them our feed and get this thing turned around.” 
“This is our homeland.”  Borys replied, “we aren’t going anywhere, alive or dead. Now keep moving your team back, and stay dispersed.  The airbursts are hell.”   
 

 
As this conversation passed in the treeline near Starov, the lone Ukrainian team at the government grain storage site prepared themselves.  The four men could hear Russian motors whining, and the unmistakable squeeking clatter of steel-shod tracks.  Situated in the second story of the building, their orders were to observe and report, unless the facility came under direct attack.  In that case they were expected to defend it – to the best of their ability.  As a Russian T-90 suddenly loomed out of the forest, the squad leader directed his teammate to hit it with the older rocket first.  He was unsure if it would even fire, but wanted to see if he could take out one with this expendable munition to save his RPG rounds for the second tank moving to its flank.  The young man’s aim with the old folding rocket was admirable, as it flew straight and true, but it detonated against a reactive armor tile specifically designed for this very task.  The explosive charge sandwiched between two metal plates exploded when the tip of the shaped charge jet touched it, blasting the outer plate into the path of the forming jet, and causing it to spend its energy cutting the plate laterally, rather than penetrating straight into the tank’s armor.  The tank rolled forward oblivious, but the team held its collective breath as they watched its path.  They had been supplied with all the anti-tank mines the home guard unit had to spare – six mines.  They had placed them in a 2 x 3 grid along the road to the south, and they recognized that through some miracle, despite all the other terrain available, the tank was headed directly for them.  The first Russian tank fired its cannon, and the team leader knew the air defense team hidden in the woods was having a bad day.  Then suddenly, the second tank rolled directly over one of the mines actually lying in the road.  The detonation of the AT mine was stunning at such close range, but the team leader had scant time to cheer.  His RPG gunner lined up on the other tank and unleashed a rocket.  Unfortunately, these men had none of the newer PG-7VR tandem warheads which were designed to defeat reactive armor, and this round like the one before it, exploded harmlessly, spending its energy on an ERA tile. 
“Hurry – reload!” the team leader cried, as the tank suddenly pivoted towards their building.  The gunner complied, moving swiftly through his drill, snapping in the rocket, cocking it, lining up again on the target a scant 30 meters away and slamming another rocket towards it, hoping for a luckier hit.  But he didn’t even get a hit.  The ARENA APS radar was now looking directly at the team, and it tracked the rocket’s flight almost from the instant of launch.  Though close in shots like this are challenging for APS, the slight up angle gave the radar just the edge it needed to get a countermeasure cassette into the air and detonate it just above the winging rocket.  The gunner, grabbed for another reload, but the team leader just hung his head and covered his eyes as the tank cannon rose towards their position. 
 
http://youtu.be/iEWxIl8NALc
 
Congrats to Bil for finding the lonely minefield.  I think I only got 6 or 8 for the whole thing, and this is one of just two I placed outside of Krichek.  Him finding this one was a friendly miracle in a sea of badness.  'If you build it he will come..."
 
On the north side of Hill 347 LT Upham knew he was in deep.  “C’mon driver keep us coming back.”  Their Bradley reversed behind the building smoke screen.
“Keep scanning,” Upham told his gunner, although they were unlikely to see through the dense smoke that kept them alive.  As they backed into the gulley and swung south to find a better firing spot, the Russian MRC commander to the south gave a curt firing order.  The orchard that sheltered them exploded into smoke and buzzed with whirring fragments, as first the tanks and BMPs, and then the air defense Tunguska laid down a withering searching fire.  SSG Svendson and his team were caught as they moved forward, diving to the ground and hugging mother earth, they prayed for the fire to cease, while expecting a fatal blast at any second. 
“23 you okay?”  SSG Svendson could not even hear his LT’s radio call over the world exploding around him, and did not respond. 
“Driver, pull us back up.  Let’s see if we can find one.”  The Bradley rolled back up out of the gully, to find its own smoke still screening hit, having drifted south on the mild breeze.
“Okay, give it a second.” 
Neither LT Upham nor SSG Svendson heard the Russian platoon now angling towards their left and closing the distance at a sprint. 
 
Alone in the gully at the foot of 347, PFC Haskel hesitated.  The smoke launched by the dying 3rd Platoon BMP to his rear gave him some cover, and he was loath to go running panicked down the gully, just to get cut down by an overwatching vehicle on the hill above.  He needed to get back up and check on SSG Venar, and maybe pull him down to cover.  Suddenly Haskel heard an engine growling closer – he unslung the AT-4 from his back and flipped the small firing lever to arm it.  The AT-4 is a US Army initiative built to replace the aging M-72 LAW.  Unlike most other Armies, the US forces felt the need to put anti-armor munitions in the hands of soldiers across the battlefield outweighed the requirement for a more capable munition that would require training and a crew of 2 or more.  The M-72 initially fulfilled this need, as it provided a fairly light, easy to use single-shot rocket which was capable of defeating most tanks… of the 1970s.   The AT-4 replaced it in the late 80s, essentially a single shot variant of the Swedish Carl Gustaf 84mm rocket launcher.  Though even simpler to operate than the LAW, and more accurate with dramatically improved penetration, the AT-4 is much heavier and does not fold up, so it is bulk and difficult to carry.  Not popular with troops, it is nevertheless a capable weapon and Haskel figured he was owed some payback.  The T-90 clattered into view above Haskels hide in the gully, never seeing him and angling off to the north.  The PFC waited a second to be sure, aiming low to try and come in under the ERA, and then squeezed hard on the firing lever.   The rocket zipped out of the gully, never more than a foot from the ground, totally evading the ARENA’s radar view and detonated against the rear hull.  The powerful unitary warhead easily penetrated the thinner rear hull armor, but with no apparent effect on the roaring tank.  The engine never missed a beat, and the tank rolled away to the north to play havoc with the PFC’s Platoon Leader. 
“Well,” thought Haskel, “maybe it did some damage.”  Then he looked up the gully slope to where his SSG lay and steeled himself to go forward to check rather than back the way he so wanted to go.
 

 
“Vovk, this is Brytva 21.  We are taking fire, and have pulled back.  I think 21 Mike is down.  Something exploded over there.  They are hunting us.  We must move.”
KPT Kovtun acknowledged – he did not want to lose the Tunguska after it had done so much, but its armor was like paper to a main battle tank’s. 
“Brytva 21 – yes, pull back.  Move to the bridge.  The Americans say it is clear.  Their missile team is moving up and can cover you.  Don’t shoot them, whatever you do!” 
“Yes, this is Brytva 21, moving.”  The excitable commander of TG21 knew he had been lucky to back up just as the Russian tank to the south fired.  He would shift north and wait for another opportunity.  He didn’t know that only the actions of the team at the grain storage facility had saved him from the same fate as his Strela wingman, now burning from the destructive fires of the two hunting T90s.
 

 

As the Russian forces relentlessly move forward over Hill 347, they keep the remnants of the Ukrainian 3d Company in a deadly crossfire.  Overwhelming firepower, accurate gunnery and the amazing spotting advantage of their more modern vehicles complete the destruction of their Ukrainian enemies.  The southern Mechanized Rifle Company (MRC) keeps up a devastating long range suppressive fire on the orchard, pinning LT Upham and SSG Svendson’ Javelin Team.  To the south side of the hill, a Russian T-90 dispatches the last 3d Company command BMP-2 with a casual point-blank shot, as one of his southern MRC comrades does the same to the final 1st PLT BMP-2, completing the destruction of the company.  The only surviving combat effective Soldiers are the 1st Platoon Leader and his dismounted squads, now preparing for a desperate last stand in the Starov Village. 
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJHvg64eaGY
 
PdPK Borys Levchenko was bleeding.  He felt along his lower back, and brought his hand back to see the blood.  His RTO pulled out another dressing and lifted his tunic to apply it as the senior officer knelt behind a tree. 
“Sir.”  SGT Lerner approached quickly through the trees, crouching low.  He dropped to a knee next to the haggard Ukrainian.
“Sorry Sir.  Our intel had no idea the Russians would attack into us like this.  I’m not sure if they updated or not – I’m out of comms now.  The Russians must be jamming us.  I’d like to tell you they’ll be here soon, but I just don’t know.”
“Yes, we both should have known better, eh?”  Borys replied. 
“Now we have no troops left, but we have stung a Russian or two, and we know exactly where they are.  Can you not get the information to your forces?  If you can kill these devils with your precision weapons my men will not have died for nothing!” 
Lerner took off his sunglasses and looked straight into the older man’s eyes.
“Believe me Sir, I am trying, and so are the scouts up north.  I see about a company down there to the south, and estimate another company coming over 347.  They must have left something back to keep Krichek bottled up.  I’ve seen two Russian Tunguska, one to the south, and one right over there on 347.  If we want air support to help, those have to go down.”
Borys raised a pained eyebrow: “What exactly do you expect us to bring them down with?” 
“Not sure Sir.  Try to keep everyone that’s left down and keep eyes on them.  If we can hang on until Battalion gets here we can send them our feed and get this thing turned around.” 
“This is our homeland.”  Borys replied, “we aren’t going anywhere, alive or dead. Now keep moving your team back, and stay dispersed.  The airbursts are hell.”   
 

 
As this conversation passed in the treeline near Starov, the lone Ukrainian team at the government grain storage site prepared themselves.  The four men could hear Russian motors whining, and the unmistakable squeeking clatter of steel-shod tracks.  Situated in the second story of the building, their orders were to observe and report, unless the facility came under direct attack.  In that case they were expected to defend it – to the best of their ability.  As a Russian T-90 suddenly loomed out of the forest, the squad leader directed his teammate to hit it with the older rocket first.  He was unsure if it would even fire, but wanted to see if he could take out one with this expendable munition to save his RPG rounds for the second tank moving to its flank.  The young man’s aim with the old folding rocket was admirable, as it flew straight and true, but it detonated against a reactive armor tile specifically designed for this very task.  The explosive charge sandwiched between two metal plates exploded when the tip of the shaped charge jet touched it, blasting the outer plate into the path of the forming jet, and causing it to spend its energy cutting the plate laterally, rather than penetrating straight into the tank’s armor.  The tank rolled forward oblivious, but the team held its collective breath as they watched its path.  They had been supplied with all the anti-tank mines the home guard unit had to spare – six mines.  They had placed them in a 2 x 3 grid along the road to the south, and they recognized that through some miracle, despite all the other terrain available, the tank was headed directly for them.  The first Russian tank fired its cannon, and the team leader knew the air defense team hidden in the woods was having a bad day.  Then suddenly, the second tank rolled directly over one of the mines actually lying in the road.  The detonation of the AT mine was stunning at such close range, but the team leader had scant time to cheer.  His RPG gunner lined up on the other tank and unleashed a rocket.  Unfortunately, these men had none of the newer PG-7VR tandem warheads which were designed to defeat reactive armor, and this round like the one before it, exploded harmlessly, spending its energy on an ERA tile. 
“Hurry – reload!” the team leader cried, as the tank suddenly pivoted towards their building.  The gunner complied, moving swiftly through his drill, snapping in the rocket, cocking it, lining up again on the target a scant 30 meters away and slamming another rocket towards it, hoping for a luckier hit.  But he didn’t even get a hit.  The ARENA APS radar was now looking directly at the team, and it tracked the rocket’s flight almost from the instant of launch.  Though close in shots like this are challenging for APS, the slight up angle gave the radar just the edge it needed to get a countermeasure cassette into the air and detonate it just above the winging rocket.  The gunner, grabbed for another reload, but the team leader just hung his head and covered his eyes as the tank cannon rose towards their position. 
 
http://youtu.be/iEWxIl8NALc
 
Congrats to Bil for finding the lonely minefield.  I think I only got 6 or 8 for the whole thing, and this is one of just two I placed outside of Krichek.  Him finding this one was a friendly miracle in a sea of badness.  'If you build it he will come..."
 
On the north side of Hill 347 LT Upham knew he was in deep.  “C’mon driver keep us coming back.”  Their Bradley reversed behind the building smoke screen.
“Keep scanning,” Upham told his gunner, although they were unlikely to see through the dense smoke that kept them alive.  As they backed into the gulley and swung south to find a better firing spot, the Russian MRC commander to the south gave a curt firing order.  The orchard that sheltered them exploded into smoke and buzzed with whirring fragments, as first the tanks and BMPs, and then the air defense Tunguska laid down a withering searching fire.  SSG Svendson and his team were caught as they moved forward, diving to the ground and hugging mother earth, they prayed for the fire to cease, while expecting a fatal blast at any second. 
“23 you okay?”  SSG Svendson could not even hear his LT’s radio call over the world exploding around him, and did not respond. 
“Driver, pull us back up.  Let’s see if we can find one.”  The Bradley rolled back up out of the gully, to find its own smoke still screening hit, having drifted south on the mild breeze.
“Okay, give it a second.” 
Neither LT Upham nor SSG Svendson heard the Russian platoon now angling towards their left and closing the distance at a sprint. 
 
Alone in the gully at the foot of 347, PFC Haskel hesitated.  The smoke launched by the dying 3rd Platoon BMP to his rear gave him some cover, and he was loath to go running panicked down the gully, just to get cut down by an overwatching vehicle on the hill above.  He needed to get back up and check on SSG Venar, and maybe pull him down to cover.  Suddenly Haskel heard an engine growling closer – he unslung the AT-4 from his back and flipped the small firing lever to arm it.  The AT-4 is a US Army initiative built to replace the aging M-72 LAW.  Unlike most other Armies, the US forces felt the need to put anti-armor munitions in the hands of soldiers across the battlefield outweighed the requirement for a more capable munition that would require training and a crew of 2 or more.  The M-72 initially fulfilled this need, as it provided a fairly light, easy to use single-shot rocket which was capable of defeating most tanks… of the 1970s.   The AT-4 replaced it in the late 80s, essentially a single shot variant of the Swedish Carl Gustaf 84mm rocket launcher.  Though even simpler to operate than the LAW, and more accurate with dramatically improved penetration, the AT-4 is much heavier and does not fold up, so it is bulk and difficult to carry.  Not popular with troops, it is nevertheless a capable weapon and Haskel figured he was owed some payback.  The T-90 clattered into view above Haskels hide in the gully, never seeing him and angling off to the north.  The PFC waited a second to be sure, aiming low to try and come in under the ERA, and then squeezed hard on the firing lever.   The rocket zipped out of the gully, never more than a foot from the ground, totally evading the ARENA’s radar view and detonated against the rear hull.  The powerful unitary warhead easily penetrated the thinner rear hull armor, but with no apparent effect on the roaring tank.  The engine never missed a beat, and the tank rolled away to the north to play havoc with the PFC’s Platoon Leader. 
“Well,” thought Haskel, “maybe it did some damage.”  Then he looked up the gully slope to where his SSG lay and steeled himself to go forward to check rather than back the way he so wanted to go.
 

 
“Vovk, this is Brytva 21.  We are taking fire, and have pulled back.  I think 21 Mike is down.  Something exploded over there.  They are hunting us.  We must move.”
KPT Kovtun acknowledged – he did not want to lose the Tunguska after it had done so much, but its armor was like paper to a main battle tank’s. 
“Brytva 21 – yes, pull back.  Move to the bridge.  The Americans say it is clear.  Their missile team is moving up and can cover you.  Don’t shoot them, whatever you do!” 
“Yes, this is Brytva 21, moving.”  The excitable commander of TG21 knew he had been lucky to back up just as the Russian tank to the south fired.  He would shift north and wait for another opportunity.  He didn’t know that only the actions of the team at the grain storage facility had saved him from the same fate as his Strela wingman, now burning from the destructive fires of the two hunting T90s.
 

 

As the Russian forces relentlessly move forward over Hill 347, they keep the remnants of the Ukrainian 3d Company in a deadly crossfire.  Overwhelming firepower, accurate gunnery and the amazing spotting advantage of their more modern vehicles complete the destruction of their Ukrainian enemies.  The southern Mechanized Rifle Company (MRC) keeps up a devastating long range suppressive fire on the orchard, pinning LT Upham and SSG Svendson’ Javelin Team.  To the south side of the hill, a Russian T-90 dispatches the last 3d Company command BMP-2 with a casual point-blank shot, as one of his southern MRC comrades does the same to the final 1st PLT BMP-2, completing the destruction of the company.  The only surviving combat effective Soldiers are the 1st Platoon Leader and his dismounted squads, now preparing for a desperate last stand in the Starov Village. 
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJHvg64eaGY
 
PdPK Borys Levchenko was bleeding.  He felt along his lower back, and brought his hand back to see the blood.  His RTO pulled out another dressing and lifted his tunic to apply it as the senior officer knelt behind a tree. 
“Sir.”  SGT Lerner approached quickly through the trees, crouching low.  He dropped to a knee next to the haggard Ukrainian.
“Sorry Sir.  Our intel had no idea the Russians would attack into us like this.  I’m not sure if they updated or not – I’m out of comms now.  The Russians must be jamming us.  I’d like to tell you they’ll be here soon, but I just don’t know.”
“Yes, we both should have known better, eh?”  Borys replied. 
“Now we have no troops left, but we have stung a Russian or two, and we know exactly where they are.  Can you not get the information to your forces?  If you can kill these devils with your precision weapons my men will not have died for nothing!” 
Lerner took off his sunglasses and looked straight into the older man’s eyes.
“Believe me Sir, I am trying, and so are the scouts up north.  I see about a company down there to the south, and estimate another company coming over 347.  They must have left something back to keep Krichek bottled up.  I’ve seen two Russian Tunguska, one to the south, and one right over there on 347.  If we want air support to help, those have to go down.”
Borys raised a pained eyebrow: “What exactly do you expect us to bring them down with?” 
“Not sure Sir.  Try to keep everyone that’s left down and keep eyes on them.  If we can hang on until Battalion gets here we can send them our feed and get this thing turned around.” 
“This is our homeland.”  Borys replied, “we aren’t going anywhere, alive or dead. Now keep moving your team back, and stay dispersed.  The airbursts are hell.”   
 

 
As this conversation passed in the treeline near Starov, the lone Ukrainian team at the government grain storage site prepared themselves.  The four men could hear Russian motors whining, and the unmistakable squeeking clatter of steel-shod tracks.  Situated in the second story of the building, their orders were to observe and report, unless the facility came under direct attack.  In that case they were expected to defend it – to the best of their ability.  As a Russian T-90 suddenly loomed out of the forest, the squad leader directed his teammate to hit it with the older rocket first.  He was unsure if it would even fire, but wanted to see if he could take out one with this expendable munition to save his RPG rounds for the second tank moving to its flank.  The young man’s aim with the old folding rocket was admirable, as it flew straight and true, but it detonated against a reactive armor tile specifically designed for this very task.  The explosive charge sandwiched between two metal plates exploded when the tip of the shaped charge jet touched it, blasting the outer plate into the path of the forming jet, and causing it to spend its energy cutting the plate laterally, rather than penetrating straight into the tank’s armor.  The tank rolled forward oblivious, but the team held its collective breath as they watched its path.  They had been supplied with all the anti-tank mines the home guard unit had to spare – six mines.  They had placed them in a 2 x 3 grid along the road to the south, and they recognized that through some miracle, despite all the other terrain available, the tank was headed directly for them.  The first Russian tank fired its cannon, and the team leader knew the air defense team hidden in the woods was having a bad day.  Then suddenly, the second tank rolled directly over one of the mines actually lying in the road.  The detonation of the AT mine was stunning at such close range, but the team leader had scant time to cheer.  His RPG gunner lined up on the other tank and unleashed a rocket.  Unfortunately, these men had none of the newer PG-7VR tandem warheads which were designed to defeat reactive armor, and this round like the one before it, exploded harmlessly, spending its energy on an ERA tile. 
“Hurry – reload!” the team leader cried, as the tank suddenly pivoted towards their building.  The gunner complied, moving swiftly through his drill, snapping in the rocket, cocking it, lining up again on the target a scant 30 meters away and slamming another rocket towards it, hoping for a luckier hit.  But he didn’t even get a hit.  The ARENA APS radar was now looking directly at the team, and it tracked the rocket’s flight almost from the instant of launch.  Though close in shots like this are challenging for APS, the slight up angle gave the radar just the edge it needed to get a countermeasure cassette into the air and detonate it just above the winging rocket.  The gunner, grabbed for another reload, but the team leader just hung his head and covered his eyes as the tank cannon rose towards their position. 
 
http://youtu.be/iEWxIl8NALc
 
Congrats to Bil for finding the lonely minefield.  I think I only got 6 or 8 for the whole thing, and this is one of just two I placed outside of Krichek.  Him finding this one was a friendly miracle in a sea of badness.  'If you build it he will come..."
 
On the north side of Hill 347 LT Upham knew he was in deep.  “C’mon driver keep us coming back.”  Their Bradley reversed behind the building smoke screen.
“Keep scanning,” Upham told his gunner, although they were unlikely to see through the dense smoke that kept them alive.  As they backed into the gulley and swung south to find a better firing spot, the Russian MRC commander to the south gave a curt firing order.  The orchard that sheltered them exploded into smoke and buzzed with whirring fragments, as first the tanks and BMPs, and then the air defense Tunguska laid down a withering searching fire.  SSG Svendson and his team were caught as they moved forward, diving to the ground and hugging mother earth, they prayed for the fire to cease, while expecting a fatal blast at any second. 
“23 you okay?”  SSG Svendson could not even hear his LT’s radio call over the world exploding around him, and did not respond. 
“Driver, pull us back up.  Let’s see if we can find one.”  The Bradley rolled back up out of the gully, to find its own smoke still screening hit, having drifted south on the mild breeze.
“Okay, give it a second.” 
Neither LT Upham nor SSG Svendson heard the Russian platoon now angling towards their left and closing the distance at a sprint. 
 
Alone in the gully at the foot of 347, PFC Haskel hesitated.  The smoke launched by the dying 3rd Platoon BMP to his rear gave him some cover, and he was loath to go running panicked down the gully, just to get cut down by an overwatching vehicle on the hill above.  He needed to get back up and check on SSG Venar, and maybe pull him down to cover.  Suddenly Haskel heard an engine growling closer – he unslung the AT-4 from his back and flipped the small firing lever to arm it.  The AT-4 is a US Army initiative built to replace the aging M-72 LAW.  Unlike most other Armies, the US forces felt the need to put anti-armor munitions in the hands of soldiers across the battlefield outweighed the requirement for a more capable munition that would require training and a crew of 2 or more.  The M-72 initially fulfilled this need, as it provided a fairly light, easy to use single-shot rocket which was capable of defeating most tanks… of the 1970s.   The AT-4 replaced it in the late 80s, essentially a single shot variant of the Swedish Carl Gustaf 84mm rocket launcher.  Though even simpler to operate than the LAW, and more accurate with dramatically improved penetration, the AT-4 is much heavier and does not fold up, so it is bulk and difficult to carry.  Not popular with troops, it is nevertheless a capable weapon and Haskel figured he was owed some payback.  The T-90 clattered into view above Haskels hide in the gully, never seeing him and angling off to the north.  The PFC waited a second to be sure, aiming low to try and come in under the ERA, and then squeezed hard on the firing lever.   The rocket zipped out of the gully, never more than a foot from the ground, totally evading the ARENA’s radar view and detonated against the rear hull.  The powerful unitary warhead easily penetrated the thinner rear hull armor, but with no apparent effect on the roaring tank.  The engine never missed a beat, and the tank rolled away to the north to play havoc with the PFC’s Platoon Leader. 
“Well,” thought Haskel, “maybe it did some damage.”  Then he looked up the gully slope to where his SSG lay and steeled himself to go forward to check rather than back the way he so wanted to go.
 

 
“Vovk, this is Brytva 21.  We are taking fire, and have pulled back.  I think 21 Mike is down.  Something exploded over there.  They are hunting us.  We must move.”
KPT Kovtun acknowledged – he did not want to lose the Tunguska after it had done so much, but its armor was like paper to a main battle tank’s. 
“Brytva 21 – yes, pull back.  Move to the bridge.  The Americans say it is clear.  Their missile team is moving up and can cover you.  Don’t shoot them, whatever you do!” 
“Yes, this is Brytva 21, moving.”  The excitable commander of TG21 knew he had been lucky to back up just as the Russian tank to the south fired.  He would shift north and wait for another opportunity.  He didn’t know that only the actions of the team at the grain storage facility had saved him from the same fate as his Strela wingman, now burning from the destructive fires of the two hunting T90s.
 

 

To give scope, I am four turns behind on posts, and believe that my reinforcements likely arrive next turn.  So, on the fifth or so post following this one we should see some real mayhem.  Bil appears to be moving slowly post-Xmas, so I will try to get caught up.  May make another post tonight/tomorrow, if I don't go fishing.  ;-)  Per previous request I am limiting my pix to 1024 wide.  If you folks want them bigger - 1200 or 1600 - let me know.  Might stretch some monitors, but I know I don't see the details on my (fairly good) monitor at 1024.  

On the north side of the hill, the remnants of 3rd Platoon were still being ground down by the advancing Russian BMP-3s and infantry.  The Platoon leader came staggering back through the forest and collapsed by a tree, falling next to the last two surviving dismounted infantrymen from his small command, both bleeding from multiple shrapnel wounds to their faces and upper torsos. 
“Sir, are you okay?”  one asked.  The Lieutenant’s haggard face told the story as he just stared at the man in obvious shock.  In that instant, another burst of lethal 30mm cannon fire struck, directed by the thermal sights on an unseen enemy vehicle, and the officer fell forward on his face and was still.  The two infantrymen cried out in panic, then both began crawling away from the source of the fire, one whimpering in fear and the other snarling in impotent rage.
 

 
Note:  BMP in background is destroyed Ukrainian 3d Platoon vehicle.  
 
 
In Krichek, KPT Kovtun knew that the Russians were up to something.  The artillery  continued to hammer down, but there was simply not enough fire or probing coming from the far side of the river, especially given the destruction of one of an enemy BMP over there by his ATGM team several minutes ago.  Someone or something should have been hunting, searching, trying to pin down the missile team or flush out its comrades.  He called the BMP2 section which had moved up and taken position along the row of houses on the west, facing the river. 
“Borsuk 11, have you seen anything?  Any activity from the far side?”
“Nothing Viktor, hang on, I’ll move up and take a quick look.”
“Borsuk 11, this is Vovk, Hang on 11, don’t do anything stupid.”
“Trust me Viktor – we are good on this.”
An instant later a Kovtun heard the unmistakable hammering of outgoing 30mm fire, over the shriek of another incoming artillery shell.  As his ears were still ringing from the tremendous detonation, he gradually heard the voice calling again on his radio.
“Vovk, this is Borsuk 21…  Vovk this is Borsuk 21…”  with a heavy heart, already knowing Kovtun took a deep breath and replied.
“Go ahead 21.” 
“11 is destroyed.  We never saw what did it.  His track is burning.  No one got out.” 
“21 this is Vovk, do me a favor and don’t DIE in the next five minutes.  Keep scanning but keep YOUR heads down.  We need your track, your cannon, and your missiles!  Stay under cover and respect the enemy’s abilities.  Vovk out.”  He passed the handset back to his RTO, making a deliberate effort not to throw it against the wall, and carefully peeling his white-clenched fingers from the black plastic.  An instant later, he took it back and spoke again.
“Brytva 22, this is Vovk.  Move to checkpoint 2 and observe.”
“This is Brytva 22, understood.  Moving.  I have permission to shoot?”
Podpulkovnyk Tymoshenko stepped into the room.
“You are committing the Tunguska?”
“Brytva 22, destroy anything you see.  Out”  Kovtun gave his Air Defense Commander a hard look. 
“Yes Sir.  It is needed.  We have lost too many combat vehicles, and now 11 has stupidly gotten himself and his crew obliterated.  I need a check on the south, and it must be fast, and lethal if anything is there.  Brytva 21 on the other side has done quite well, although he said he saw nothing from his new position.”
“Absolutely.  Good, I approve.  I trust you Viktor.  Keep the fight going.  Levchenko will get here with the Americans.” 
 
http://youtu.be/cKvN6JINyaw
 
Outside, Major Harris drew the same conclusion from both the sounds of cooking off ammo from the recently destroyed BMP up the street, as well as the radio traffic which he and Beach were monitoring.  He too drew out his handset:
“Guiness, this is five, over.”  As a small team, the SFAT had adopted informal call signs.  SPC O’Brian was well known for his heritage, and his favorite beverage.
“Five this is Guiness.”
“Need you to get over to TRP 2 like we discussed.  Seen anything? Figure you can make it?”
“Roger.  We can make it.  The green boyos over here saw a couple dismounts earlier, but they laid into them with their AGS and we haven’t seen any movement since.  I think our move is still masked.  Same mission?”
“Roger, just like we rehearsed, over.”
“Guiness moving.  We’ll be back in a bit with notches on our CLU.  Out.”
One hundred meters away, the SPC O’Brian picked up the Javelin launcher, tapped PVT Metcalf on the shoulder, and headed quickly down towards the river bridge, carefully skirting the anti-tank mines laid on either side of the road.
 

 
At the Ukepor Power Plant, LT Lysenko grinned as he spoke into his mike. 
“Yes, that is in there.  Fire for effect.”
The infantry in the field had dropped from view, discouraged by a few bursts from his squad in the entry building, and the mortar spotting rounds had bracketed the position where he had last seen the Russian truck and troops.  He hoped the mortar boys would fire fast so he could shift them closer into the field.  He doubted his few men could hold off a platoon of determined Russians. 
 
Starshiy Kostenko knew he was a dead man.  The 2nd Platoon private was on the ground, crawling past the body of one of his comrades, trying to follow his section leader back down the hill to the west, away from the murderous fire from inside the trees.  It was like a horrible story to tell little children.  From dark shadows beyond sight inside the trees, the forest had suddenly belched fire and flame, and all around him men had fallen.  His own thighs and cheek burned with shrapnel, and he felt the warm sticky wetness of his own blood on his pant legs as he crawled.  Suddenly, right behind him, he heard a crashing roaring clatter of sound.  He turned his head and saw the Russian beast, a BMP-3, a mere stones throw behind him.  He swung his rocket launcher around, and thought to himself how sad his mother would be…
 

Thanks Dan.  Perhaps I will.  I'm already a grade ahead of Harold Coyle I think - didn't he get out as a Major?  I actually read Team Yankee as a pre-release review copy when I was in high school, hence, Armor officer today.  I was already well on the way though.  My Dad was the Regimental SIGO for the 2nd ACR in Nuremburg back in the day.  Took me to Graf to watch the Regiment shoot a Combined Arms Live Fire exercise.  When I saw the tanks shoot I was hooked!    If I ever do write I might be crazy enough to try Sci-fi.  I corresponded with David Drake once upon a time.  If anyone out there hasn't read "Hammer's Slammers," let me make a shameless plug for it.  Best tanker Sci-Fi ever written, and top 10% in military sci-fi in general.  Someone had a 'reading list' thread floating in here somewhere if I recall.  Perhaps I should go lurk on it a bit.

I'm heartbroken, no matter what they say size does matter.  Anyway it killed three tanks with 25mm then.  After your Gray Eagle gets shot down, you'll be wishing you had my Gray Wolf.

Outlaw 16 knew he was in trouble.  He could hear the engine noises ahead of him, whining and roaring as the Russians moved up on him.  His quick instructions to SSG Svendson were to get forward into position and put a Jav on a tank or BMP up on 347 to give them something to think about.  That wouldn’t be enough.  He had to get some fires of his own going. 
“Driver, ramp up - back up.”  He usually called his crew by name, but in times of stress, training kicked in and he reverted to their duty positions. 
“Okay, now forward right.  Head down the draw a bit, then ease us up for a look.  Gunner, missile up as soon as we crest, and scan the hill only.  I’ll cover everywhere else.”
As they moved up, Upham looked carfully around trying to see everywhere but up on the hill, but a sudden burst of fire ripped his eyes back.  The last 3d Platoon BMP-2 was backing desperately and was spiked on bursts of 30mm fire from two completely different directions.  The steel vehicle shuddered under the impacts and Upham watched in momentary awe as hunks of steel flew into the air, the armor plate buckling and shattering as the heavy armor piercing rounds ripped through both sides.  Then the hatches burst open, not from the occupants trying to escape, but from pressure as something inside exploded. Fire and smoke built quickly and the LT knew that none of the Ukrainian crew had escaped.
“Identify PC!” his gunner screamed, tearing Upham’s attention back to his mission.
“Fire!” he shouted back, not even bothering to check what they were shooting.
“On the way!”  the gunner replied, but in their excitement, neither had checked their weapon selector.  The TOWII leapt from its launcher and streaked towards the BMP-3 that was now clearly visible on the hill haloed in the dust from its fire on the Ukrainian vehicle.  The missile sped straight and true, detonating in midair several meters short of the BMP, blown from the sky by the ARENA APS system.  Upham dropped down inside the turret.
“Holy ****, why’d you shoot the TOW?  Quick, go to AP!”   
“I can’t see him now through the dust.” His gunner replied.
Upham popped his head back up, rapidly scanning the hillside, his excitement warring with his training, verging on panic.  He had seen fire from at least two directions hit the Ukrainian vehicle, but could not find the second enemy vehicle. 
 

 
At that instant, Upham’s concern melted into fear.  To his right he could actually see one of his scout HMMWVs – it took him a second to realize it was Outlaw 12, SFC Bagby’s truck.  The truck was backing up fast, 30mm fire peppering the ground around it.  As the LT watched, the deadly autocannon rounds found their mark, blasting into the front of the lightly armored vehicle, powdering the armored glass windshield.  He saw PFC Purtle slump down over his spade grips, an instant before a final round detonated the Mk19’s ammo box.
 
http://youtu.be/15fJXy-V7H8
 
“Popping smoke, driver back up.  Too much heat up here, too close.  We need to get some space.” 
Keying his mike:  “Outlaw 23, you find a target for that Jav yet?”
“16 this is 23, nothing yet.  We’re looking.  Gonna keep creeping up.  Hard to see out of this orchard.” 
Suddenly, another voice broke in on the net, speaking low.  “16 this is 13 delta.  My actual is down.  They rolled right up on us.  I’m back down in the gully.  I’m gonna wait here to see if I can get back up to him.”
SSG Venar was one of the LT’s better scouts, and he had learned a lot from him.
“Roger, is he KIA?”
“Sir, I don’t know.  I couldn’t stick around to check.  I know I have to find out, but you have to give me a minute.”
“Roger that, keep your head down. Plenty busy here.  Keep me informed.  16 out.”
 
http://youtu.be/QCypvpfubqA
 
Ukrainian infantry and SSG Venar fall to Russian fire as artillery pounding Krichek causes casualties in the background..  The last Ukrainian 3rd Platoon BMP-2 is blasted from two directions simultaneously, as LT Upham's TOW shot whips towards a Russian BMP-3.

Outlaw 16 knew he was in trouble.  He could hear the engine noises ahead of him, whining and roaring as the Russians moved up on him.  His quick instructions to SSG Svendson were to get forward into position and put a Jav on a tank or BMP up on 347 to give them something to think about.  That wouldn’t be enough.  He had to get some fires of his own going. 
“Driver, ramp up - back up.”  He usually called his crew by name, but in times of stress, training kicked in and he reverted to their duty positions. 
“Okay, now forward right.  Head down the draw a bit, then ease us up for a look.  Gunner, missile up as soon as we crest, and scan the hill only.  I’ll cover everywhere else.”
As they moved up, Upham looked carfully around trying to see everywhere but up on the hill, but a sudden burst of fire ripped his eyes back.  The last 3d Platoon BMP-2 was backing desperately and was spiked on bursts of 30mm fire from two completely different directions.  The steel vehicle shuddered under the impacts and Upham watched in momentary awe as hunks of steel flew into the air, the armor plate buckling and shattering as the heavy armor piercing rounds ripped through both sides.  Then the hatches burst open, not from the occupants trying to escape, but from pressure as something inside exploded. Fire and smoke built quickly and the LT knew that none of the Ukrainian crew had escaped.
“Identify PC!” his gunner screamed, tearing Upham’s attention back to his mission.
“Fire!” he shouted back, not even bothering to check what they were shooting.
“On the way!”  the gunner replied, but in their excitement, neither had checked their weapon selector.  The TOWII leapt from its launcher and streaked towards the BMP-3 that was now clearly visible on the hill haloed in the dust from its fire on the Ukrainian vehicle.  The missile sped straight and true, detonating in midair several meters short of the BMP, blown from the sky by the ARENA APS system.  Upham dropped down inside the turret.
“Holy ****, why’d you shoot the TOW?  Quick, go to AP!”   
“I can’t see him now through the dust.” His gunner replied.
Upham popped his head back up, rapidly scanning the hillside, his excitement warring with his training, verging on panic.  He had seen fire from at least two directions hit the Ukrainian vehicle, but could not find the second enemy vehicle. 
 

 
At that instant, Upham’s concern melted into fear.  To his right he could actually see one of his scout HMMWVs – it took him a second to realize it was Outlaw 12, SFC Bagby’s truck.  The truck was backing up fast, 30mm fire peppering the ground around it.  As the LT watched, the deadly autocannon rounds found their mark, blasting into the front of the lightly armored vehicle, powdering the armored glass windshield.  He saw PFC Purtle slump down over his spade grips, an instant before a final round detonated the Mk19’s ammo box.
 
http://youtu.be/15fJXy-V7H8
 
“Popping smoke, driver back up.  Too much heat up here, too close.  We need to get some space.” 
Keying his mike:  “Outlaw 23, you find a target for that Jav yet?”
“16 this is 23, nothing yet.  We’re looking.  Gonna keep creeping up.  Hard to see out of this orchard.” 
Suddenly, another voice broke in on the net, speaking low.  “16 this is 13 delta.  My actual is down.  They rolled right up on us.  I’m back down in the gully.  I’m gonna wait here to see if I can get back up to him.”
SSG Venar was one of the LT’s better scouts, and he had learned a lot from him.
“Roger, is he KIA?”
“Sir, I don’t know.  I couldn’t stick around to check.  I know I have to find out, but you have to give me a minute.”
“Roger that, keep your head down. Plenty busy here.  Keep me informed.  16 out.”
 
http://youtu.be/QCypvpfubqA
 
Ukrainian infantry and SSG Venar fall to Russian fire as artillery pounding Krichek causes casualties in the background..  The last Ukrainian 3rd Platoon BMP-2 is blasted from two directions simultaneously, as LT Upham's TOW shot whips towards a Russian BMP-3.

Outlaw 16 knew he was in trouble.  He could hear the engine noises ahead of him, whining and roaring as the Russians moved up on him.  His quick instructions to SSG Svendson were to get forward into position and put a Jav on a tank or BMP up on 347 to give them something to think about.  That wouldn’t be enough.  He had to get some fires of his own going. 
“Driver, ramp up - back up.”  He usually called his crew by name, but in times of stress, training kicked in and he reverted to their duty positions. 
“Okay, now forward right.  Head down the draw a bit, then ease us up for a look.  Gunner, missile up as soon as we crest, and scan the hill only.  I’ll cover everywhere else.”
As they moved up, Upham looked carfully around trying to see everywhere but up on the hill, but a sudden burst of fire ripped his eyes back.  The last 3d Platoon BMP-2 was backing desperately and was spiked on bursts of 30mm fire from two completely different directions.  The steel vehicle shuddered under the impacts and Upham watched in momentary awe as hunks of steel flew into the air, the armor plate buckling and shattering as the heavy armor piercing rounds ripped through both sides.  Then the hatches burst open, not from the occupants trying to escape, but from pressure as something inside exploded. Fire and smoke built quickly and the LT knew that none of the Ukrainian crew had escaped.
“Identify PC!” his gunner screamed, tearing Upham’s attention back to his mission.
“Fire!” he shouted back, not even bothering to check what they were shooting.
“On the way!”  the gunner replied, but in their excitement, neither had checked their weapon selector.  The TOWII leapt from its launcher and streaked towards the BMP-3 that was now clearly visible on the hill haloed in the dust from its fire on the Ukrainian vehicle.  The missile sped straight and true, detonating in midair several meters short of the BMP, blown from the sky by the ARENA APS system.  Upham dropped down inside the turret.
“Holy ****, why’d you shoot the TOW?  Quick, go to AP!”   
“I can’t see him now through the dust.” His gunner replied.
Upham popped his head back up, rapidly scanning the hillside, his excitement warring with his training, verging on panic.  He had seen fire from at least two directions hit the Ukrainian vehicle, but could not find the second enemy vehicle. 
 

 
At that instant, Upham’s concern melted into fear.  To his right he could actually see one of his scout HMMWVs – it took him a second to realize it was Outlaw 12, SFC Bagby’s truck.  The truck was backing up fast, 30mm fire peppering the ground around it.  As the LT watched, the deadly autocannon rounds found their mark, blasting into the front of the lightly armored vehicle, powdering the armored glass windshield.  He saw PFC Purtle slump down over his spade grips, an instant before a final round detonated the Mk19’s ammo box.
 
http://youtu.be/15fJXy-V7H8
 
“Popping smoke, driver back up.  Too much heat up here, too close.  We need to get some space.” 
Keying his mike:  “Outlaw 23, you find a target for that Jav yet?”
“16 this is 23, nothing yet.  We’re looking.  Gonna keep creeping up.  Hard to see out of this orchard.” 
Suddenly, another voice broke in on the net, speaking low.  “16 this is 13 delta.  My actual is down.  They rolled right up on us.  I’m back down in the gully.  I’m gonna wait here to see if I can get back up to him.”
SSG Venar was one of the LT’s better scouts, and he had learned a lot from him.
“Roger, is he KIA?”
“Sir, I don’t know.  I couldn’t stick around to check.  I know I have to find out, but you have to give me a minute.”
“Roger that, keep your head down. Plenty busy here.  Keep me informed.  16 out.”
 
http://youtu.be/QCypvpfubqA
 
Ukrainian infantry and SSG Venar fall to Russian fire as artillery pounding Krichek causes casualties in the background..  The last Ukrainian 3rd Platoon BMP-2 is blasted from two directions simultaneously, as LT Upham's TOW shot whips towards a Russian BMP-3.

Thanks Dan.  Perhaps I will.  I'm already a grade ahead of Harold Coyle I think - didn't he get out as a Major?  I actually read Team Yankee as a pre-release review copy when I was in high school, hence, Armor officer today.  I was already well on the way though.  My Dad was the Regimental SIGO for the 2nd ACR in Nuremburg back in the day.  Took me to Graf to watch the Regiment shoot a Combined Arms Live Fire exercise.  When I saw the tanks shoot I was hooked!    If I ever do write I might be crazy enough to try Sci-fi.  I corresponded with David Drake once upon a time.  If anyone out there hasn't read "Hammer's Slammers," let me make a shameless plug for it.  Best tanker Sci-Fi ever written, and top 10% in military sci-fi in general.  Someone had a 'reading list' thread floating in here somewhere if I recall.  Perhaps I should go lurk on it a bit.