Rinaldi

Yes, that's succinct and, generally, accurate. I would agree. You could nitpick or call it a generalisation but I think that would be ungenerous given this a forum.
Video games are generally player driven, so a good one will give the individual the tools to portray it accurately when they are the Soviets. This has been a source of fierce debate, mainly started by the OP of this thread (who, I note, has been conspicuously absent). He believes, among other things, that the ingredients are inadequately modelled, and therefore the recipe cannot be recreated. Tamping down his actual point is difficult, as he simply changes the topic of debate as and when he sees fit. No matter, there's a lot of evidence from other players that playing the Soviets as expected can produce results. That, of course, isn't as simple as "evolve from platoon columns to line 1 kilometer from enemy position" - though it often sounds like it is. It requires heavy dosages of common sense and understanding of the American way of war to create an effective fires plan to build that momentum. 
That's the first half of the equation. The second half is when the Soviets are AI. Now, is that up to the scenario designer. This is, again, realm of opinion, but we can object some objectivity into it. The campaigns' AI are basically textbook Soviet tactical evolutions (as we understand them): people lose these campaigns, and hard at that, routinely. So something must be right. Standalone scenarios are, in my view, a mixed bag. Some are excellent, others border on absolutely shambolic (Czechmate is a standout example of the latter). 
I would argue CW (and RT) do indeed depict their strengths, as much as their limitations. It is no different than people (correctly) despairing in CMBN that their American rifle company in, let us say, Road to Monteburg only has a few 60mms for a particular mission. The objective likely could justify more fire support. Well, that wasn't always an operational reality, and the Western allies often had to tighten their belts in the early part of the campaign re: ammunition supplies. The point, of course, is that the Soviets do very well when they can judiciously support an appropriate amount of force (or force multipliers) to the objective to hand. I don't think that is particularly unique; just that their equations are perhaps less optimistic, or more realistic, than others. 
A question of definition. Fighting 'toe to toe' insofar as fighting on qualitative or quantitatively equal terms would be considered foolish and likely to result in defeat. However, in short, and generally: Absolutely. Of course they believed they could win, and not without merit. They did not plan around winning every engagement, is the point. Only the engagements that mattered. I know that sounds trite, but its the shortest way to say it. 
 

Yes, that's succinct and, generally, accurate. I would agree. You could nitpick or call it a generalisation but I think that would be ungenerous given this a forum.
Video games are generally player driven, so a good one will give the individual the tools to portray it accurately when they are the Soviets. This has been a source of fierce debate, mainly started by the OP of this thread (who, I note, has been conspicuously absent). He believes, among other things, that the ingredients are inadequately modelled, and therefore the recipe cannot be recreated. Tamping down his actual point is difficult, as he simply changes the topic of debate as and when he sees fit. No matter, there's a lot of evidence from other players that playing the Soviets as expected can produce results. That, of course, isn't as simple as "evolve from platoon columns to line 1 kilometer from enemy position" - though it often sounds like it is. It requires heavy dosages of common sense and understanding of the American way of war to create an effective fires plan to build that momentum. 
That's the first half of the equation. The second half is when the Soviets are AI. Now, is that up to the scenario designer. This is, again, realm of opinion, but we can object some objectivity into it. The campaigns' AI are basically textbook Soviet tactical evolutions (as we understand them): people lose these campaigns, and hard at that, routinely. So something must be right. Standalone scenarios are, in my view, a mixed bag. Some are excellent, others border on absolutely shambolic (Czechmate is a standout example of the latter). 
I would argue CW (and RT) do indeed depict their strengths, as much as their limitations. It is no different than people (correctly) despairing in CMBN that their American rifle company in, let us say, Road to Monteburg only has a few 60mms for a particular mission. The objective likely could justify more fire support. Well, that wasn't always an operational reality, and the Western allies often had to tighten their belts in the early part of the campaign re: ammunition supplies. The point, of course, is that the Soviets do very well when they can judiciously support an appropriate amount of force (or force multipliers) to the objective to hand. I don't think that is particularly unique; just that their equations are perhaps less optimistic, or more realistic, than others. 
A question of definition. Fighting 'toe to toe' insofar as fighting on qualitative or quantitatively equal terms would be considered foolish and likely to result in defeat. However, in short, and generally: Absolutely. Of course they believed they could win, and not without merit. They did not plan around winning every engagement, is the point. Only the engagements that mattered. I know that sounds trite, but its the shortest way to say it. 
 

Well lets just say Wren stays in character as to his choices. As to the results...a weird one, and possibly a topic for discussion when we arrive there. 

Wow! Excellent AAR
Love your work

The Bulldog's Make Their Stand

Life has gotten in my way of making another update, but I finally have time to conclude this AAR. Contrary to what I said before, I will not be making a Battle for Normandy AAR next but another SF2 one (I'm pretty excited about it). After the conclusion of these two AARs, I will be gone for a period of 5+ months, so enjoy my writing while it's still here! Anyway, it's time to witness some very intense combat, probably the coolest CM experience I've had in my year and a half of playing. 

The situation as of last post. 2nd platoon with the help of a Stryker MGS is able to suppress a sniper in Ar Sariya. Luckily, the two men that are hit by the sniper are still alive and we were able to evacuate them. Meanwhile, 3rd platoon holds the decisive terrain on the map and starts engaging whatever they can see in the valley. The first target engaged is a BMP-2 which is promptly smacked by a javelin missile. I was feeling pretty confident at this point, but little did I realize how serious things were about to get.

3rd platoon spots a platoon of T-72 tanks entering the battlefield from LOA Tennessee. This is obviously the SLA battalion's CAR (combined arms reserve), and I waste no time engaging them. 
 
A Javelin gunner from 2nd squad, 3rd platoon flings a missile towards the lead T-72.

In a excellent display of timing and SLA incompetence I am able to nail both tanks with one missile. #1's wingman made the mistake of trying to pass him and they both paid the price.  

3rd platoon fires another missile, this time from 1st squad. The result is extremely disappointing. 

(How many times have you had a Javelin fail to penetrate?)
Despite the dangerous threat the appearance of the CAR presents, I still feel very confident. After all, where can they hide? I can see everywhere into the valley. As always though, my overconfidence is soon checked by the enemy. 

More armor begins to appear, and I suspect the SLA commander's CAR has at least a company sized element of T-72s at his disposal. 3rd platoon also has another issue - only a single Javelin missile remains with the dismounts, with 2 more in 3rd platoons Stryker's below the hill. With the possibility of a push onto OBJ Bear, it's time for me to activate my reserve - 1st platoon. 

3rd platoon is able to hit the remaining tank again from the first tank platoon we encountered and destroy it, but now they have no means of dealing with the other T-72s. Spotting rounds are also falling, but I keep my men hunkered down in defilade. We cannot abandon this hill.


With a somewhat safe route cleared, I move 1st platoon up the hill mounted in their Stryker's. They dismount on the reverse slope and begin moving to reinforce 3rd platoon. Feeling I had control over the battlefield, I was oblivious to the nightmare about to unfold.

Those previously mentioned spotting rounds turn into a FFE call, likely air-bursting heavy mortars. It's not the most accurate fire mission, and I have decent cover from it, but the shrapnel exploding overhead does cause casualties. The rounds incapacitate a team leader from 1st Pl, 3rd Sq and give light wounds to various joes. The casualties are not good, but the worst part is that 3rd platoon is suppressed and unable to observe the CAR's movement in the valley. This scenario has turned into a good example of why IDF doesn't have to always kill to be effective. At this point I can surmise the SLA commander is likely coordinating his fires with his armor's movement in order to give himself some freedom to maneuver. After a couple minutes, the barrage ends and I move the Javelin teams from 3rd and 1st platoon back into position to observe the CAR's movement. My jaw drops at what I find.

I find a friend waiting for me, and a sudden feeling of dread hits me like a train. I am realizing now how bad this situation is quickly getting. I am about to have to fight for my company's life.

Yeah... this is quickly developing into a nightmare situation. Two platoons of T-72s are barreling towards my dismounts, the men have no choice but to brace for impact. Loosing OBJ Bear to armor would probably result in the destruction of my company, there is no choice but to stem the tide. The next few minutes will consist of decisive action, and friendly casualties will be inevitable. 

I am shown a beautiful flank shot on one of the tank platoons, which is going around OBJ Bear on my left flank. The MGS platoon is deployed in BPs below the hill and 2nd platoon is watching the left flank as well.

(Scratch one)

(I was watching this with my jaw dropped)
A bad situation is soon turned worse... a platoon sized element of BMP-2s crest over the hill to the north and begin suppressing OBJ Bear with their 30mm auto cannons, blowing a javelin gunner to a few chunks. The anti tank gunners retreat to the rest of their respective platoons in defilade between them and the BMP-2s.

In a role they were not intended for, the MGS can be quite useful against armor in a pinch. Two SABOTs from the MGS platoon take out a T-72. I can only imagine the intercom chatter during this, the T-72AV TURMS-T is a scary threat in an M1A2 SEP, let alone a Stryker MGS. 2nd platoon takes IDF and their PL and a Javelin gunner become casualties, severely wounded. I have no choice but to pull them off the hill, leaving the MGS platoon alone to defend the flank. 

The situation develops more, and another SLA mechanized infantry platoon reinforces the effort to push me off OBJ Bear. I am extremely worried about these BMPs, they pose the biggest threat to the dismounts on OBJ Bear. However, I am quite confident in my company's ability to win a dismounted fight. Communist armies never seem to excel in training effective infantrymen (they are good at cooking them in the back of their personnel carriers though). 

Another T-72 destroyed by the MGS platoon.

A 1st platoon Javelin team gets an angle on a BMP-2 and smacks it with a Javelin missile.

The situation after less than two minutes of combat. This fight is happening very quickly, and it's far from over. Much to my annoyance, I have a platoon leader and his HQ stuck in front of 1st and 3rd platoon's positions. However it's safer to keep them put than to risk those BMP-2s shooting at them. To make matters worse, a T-72 on my left flank is in an area where the MGS platoon cannot see it.

(Oh ****)

The shell hits 1st platoon's positions, killing a grenadier in 2nd squad. Looks like there is another enemy tank platoon exploiting my weak flank. 

This presents a very big problem. My company is unable to engage this tank platoon breaking through my flank, let alone see them. My whole company is now in a very bad spot, especially my Stryker's that are no longer in cover from the enemy with their flanks exposed. On OBJ Bear, I take another javelin gunner KIA from BMP fire, and two radio operators are casualties from tank fire, one killed and one wounded.

The MGS platoon gets an angle on a T-72 cresting over the hill, but I am still mostly blind to their movement.

A BMP crests over the hill and is promptly destroyed

The first round is shot back at the MGS platoon, fortunately it is way short. Annoyingly, the two SABOTs that impact on the T-72 do not penetrate it and it reverses into cover.

Concurrently, the first BMP-2 moves into OBJ Bear, right into 1st and 3rd platoon. It's an awesome slaughter that's almost an homage to the halftrack scene from SPR.

An AT-4 eliminates a BMP, killing everyone inside. We're in business!

The situation has improved in many ways, but I still have the problem on the left flank. All but two T-72s have been eliminated, but even one is a massive threat to my men. The MGS platoon is punching well above their weight, I had only intended to use them for fortification busting and sniping the occasional BMP. At this point in the battle I am also wishing I had a platoon sized element of anti tank Strykers equipped with TOW missiles to help me out. 

Another BMP is destroyed by an AT-4. You never know when you might need these things, it's worth humping the extra weight. Remember the lessons from the Battle of Mogadishu!

The SLA mechanized infantry platoons are quickly disintegrating, thanks to poor tactical employment of their vehicles and dismounts in typical 3rd world army fashion. Great for me.

Another great little victory for me - a T-72 I couldn't previously see is engaged & destroyed by a Javelin gunner on OBJ Bear. You can see 2nd platoon in the distance moving to engage this guy, luckily they didn't end up needing to.

"BMP, Cover!"
Both 1st and 3rd platoon light these guys up. So many rounds were fired at these poor bastards the game couldn't process the audio. The CAR is almost completely eliminated now, only two tanks remain and the mechanized infantry elements have been rendered CI, only stragglers remain. However, those two tanks now have spots on 1st & 3rd platoon's Strykers. I have no choice to push the MGS platoon out of cover to engage them. I am prepared to lose them in order to save the rest of the company.

The last two tanks are destroyed, but an MGS is destroyed, killing everyone inside. Kudos to the infantry for saving the other MGS with a Javelin through the top of the turret. The loss of the MGS is rough, but it was necessary to prevent further damage. Lots of medals will be handed out after today. 

The intense report of small arms and tank shells flying through the air dies down, replaced by the screams of the wounded and the crackle and fire & secondary explosions. In the span of 6 minutes of combat, the entire SLA combined arms reserve is destroyed. 3 platoons of armor, and two platoons of infantry disappear in minutes. I finally have some time to compose myself after some of the most intense combat I've had in Combat Mission.

Wounded & dead men are removed from the battlefield, while my platoon leaders get ammo & headcounts from their squad leaders. Considering the circumstances, friendly casualties were not high. I'm still angry that I lost so many men KIA, but we made those bastards pay. 

While decisive action may be over, there is still work to do. 2nd platoon will take over as the company reserve and hold OBJ Bear while 1st & 3rd platoon clean up stragglers. 

While waiting for their Strykers to arrive, 2nd platoon gets sweet revenge when they hose down a fleeing tank crewman with their SAWs. No mercy.


The battlefield looks like something you'd see in a Fulda battlefield, destroyed eastern bloc armor litters the field like trash thrown from a window. It's an awe inspiring sight.

The mop up operations move smoothly, the broken tank crews & infantrymen scattered around the hill offer little resistance. 1st platoon starts doing ammo runs up the hill with their Strykers. 

 
The Bulldogs are good shots, best in the battalion.

No SLA soldier can hide from the men on this hill.

The company's FSO calls for fire on a group of stragglers, the 120mm airbursts rip them to shreds. 

Annoyingly, SLA in-direct continues to be an annoyance. Waiting for their Strykers to arrive, a soldier from 2nd platoon is killed and another wounded from it. The craters in this photo illustrate how much ordinance was dropped on 2nd platoon through the scenario. Repositioning every five minutes does get old after a while. 

Another key-holed BMP-2 is destroyed in Ar Sariya, contributing nothing toward the SLA effort. 2nd platoon mounts up and moves out towards OBJ Bear.

Mopping up the stragglers is an easy affair, everyone gets some.


Even a Stryker is able to have some target practice.

The battle is just about won at this point. 3rd platoon is bounded up to hill 92, covering the rest of the valley. I move them dismounted for fear of ATGM ambush, the last thing I want is to get men killed for the sake of convenience. Eventually, 1st platoon joins them while 2nd platoon holds OBJ Bear.
 
The rest of the scenario consists of movement with no more fighting. I will spare the boring details, but the forest on the eastern side of the map proved to be an excellent infiltration route for my dismounts. LOA Tennessee is reached, and I call for a cease fire. 
Conclusion

The battle is a tactical victory, I was able to achieve my objectives outlined at the beginning of the AAR. Unfortunately, the Bulldogs lost 8 men achieving this outcome. Enemy casualties were far greater, with 31 vehicles destroyed and 128 personnel killed or wounded. The combat power of the SLA battalion in the area is severely depleted. They certainly do not have the ability to conduct offensive operations in their state. Hours after this battle, the Bulldogs will be reinforced and the rest of the SLA battalion destroyed in place.

Lots of SLA dismounts remain on the map, unable to contribute to the battle. Unsurprisingly, most of them occupy the various villages.
 
The most surprising find after the battle concluded was this platoon of T-72s & platoon of BMP-2s on the western slope of OBJ Bear. Had the enemy commander chosen to commit this element on my weak left flank with the rest of the attack, I am sure my company would have been destroyed. 


Moving dismounted to LOA Tennessee was the right call, turns out three AT-3 Sagger teams had eyes on the decisive terrain the whole time. Even with fancy thermal optics, the infantryman's ability to conceal himself will always be a lethal ability. Moving those platoons mounted through the open would have likely been catastrophic.

The MGS platoon leader deserves a congressional Medal of Honor for his platoon's role in the battle. Without them, I am sure B/1-24 would have been destroyed in place by Sahrani armor. The MGS platoon is accredited with four T-72 kills & a BMP-2 kill. The infantrymen punched way above their weight as well, with 4-8 AFV kills per platoon. 

The 2 F-16CJs tasked with destroying targets of opportunity didn't hit anything except this recon team. Not much is left of them. Supporting fires weren't utilized as much as I wanted, mainly being used to deny terrain. I am curious how the BMP attack would have played out if I was able to get the battery of 155s dropped on them, after all I had sufficient cover to do that. I was at least happy I got some mileage out of the 120mm mortars though. Usage of supporting fires will be something I continue to work on.
My Thoughts

"Stryker's Attack" ended up probably being the greatest CM experience I've had. My fundamentals were tested, along with my ability to use a SBCT formation against a near peer enemy equipped with armor. As he does with his other scenarios, GeorgeMC provides challenging AI plans that keep you on your toes and surprised at moments, like I was. It is very easy to tell when a scenario is play-tested well, and "Armor Attacks!" is definitely one. I was seriously impressed by the AI's suppression of the decisive terrain and subsequent thrust to drive me off the hill. I was literally giddy with excitement while the big battle for OBJ Bear took place.
One of my favorite parts of this experience was demonstrating the ability of the SBCT in the offensive. The Stryker gets a bad rap from those ranging from morons or to people who don't understand it's capabilities & correct usage. Here it was utilized in it's correct application, an infantry carrier and ammo hauler. It's not a Bradley with ****ty armament, it's a way for the infantryman to be taken to point A to point B with protection from shrapnel & small arms with plenty of ammunition resupply. Stryker infantry in real life can dismount up to 10 km away from their objective. It's a vehicle best concealed from enemy fire, much like the American half-tracks of World War 2. Operationally, the Stryker is an excellent rapid reaction force, with the ability to deploy to areas much quicker than their heavy counterparts.
Similarly, the Stryker MGS is a very misunderstood vehicle. It isn't a very good vehicle by any means, with a small ammo complement & notorious mechanical problems. However, that doesn't mean you can't use it in the way it was intended pretty effectively. That means engaging buildings, fortifications, and the occasional light vehicle. If you've ever taken Stryker infantry into urban areas in CM, you've probably gotten good mileage out of the thing. The 105mm round makes short work of enemy strongpoints. That being said, the MGS does have the ability to engage armor, but it isn't a good idea unless you absolutely have to. As evidenced by this AAR, the 105mm round struggles to penetrate modern T-72 tanks at times, although older tanks like T-62s or T-55s and light vehicles will be cut through like a knife through butter. The MGS also obviously lacks the armor to be engaged by anything bigger than 12.7mm. When you stop treating the MGS as a bad Abrams, it does have a role that can fit into the modern battlefield.

This AAR also demonstrates the punching power of the modern US Army dismounted infantryman, the firepower a single platoon can dish out will never cease to be incredible to me. The Javelin missile gives incredible capabilities to the infantryman, from the ability to engage armor at 99% kill rates, to the ability to destroy enemy strongpoints and weapons teams. The AT-4 continues to be a reliable killer of light vehicles & armor at close range, much like the LAW that the Cold War infantryman humped. When it comes to killing enemy personnel, the SAW will remain the #1 killer. Accurate, a high rate of fire, reliability and ammo combability with the rest of the squad makes it the best tool for the job. The two M240Bs the platoon's weapon's squad compliment the SAW with their ability to kill the enemy and/or keep their heads down. At the end of the day though, "There are no dangerous weapons; there are only dangerous men.” Even with the best infantry & armor in the world, CM commanders still managed to get their pixeltruppen killed in droves. I've personally rendered US Army heavy company teams combat ineffective as the Syrian/Red player. I've seen other red commanders to do the same on "Armor Attacks". It is insane to see the best of the best units in the world dominated by inferior enemies, but again, they aren't a magic win button. Poor employment of your assets will always result in good men dying, and embarrassing defeats.
In conclusion, I enjoyed the hell out of this scenario. Not only for the entertaining combat in provided, but also the excellent lessons it demonstrated. Your fundamentals are guaranteed to be tested. Play any of the versions of "Armor Attacks!", they are all great experiences, but "Stryker's Attack!" will test you in it's own cool way. Stay tuned for my next AAR, GeorgeMC's Passage At Wilcox with a light infantry company from 10th Mountain attacking the town.
 
 
 

Apologies for the delay on this one. I had to travel for a significant part of May and was unable to finish this before I left. Without further ado, the concluding post, along with a link to the entire post consolidated on my blog: https://millerswargamingvault.blogspot.com/2022/06/visualized-in-combat-mission-killing-fse.html
Hasty Debrief
This was a resounding success for the US. The Soviet FSE was stonewalled, and 2nd platoon was able to fall back into friendly lines without further incident. Under combat conditions, this is probably the best outcome that could be realistically hoped for.
Some might make an argument that the position was abandoned too early. After all, the enemy was destroyed for relatively little loss, and the position is a good one. There were AT weapons remaining in the platoon (roughly half the dragon missiles and LAW launchers), the defensive fortifications were intact, and the M113’s were unmolested. They could have displaced later in the fight after potentially causing more damage to the Soviet attack.
However, this would have been cutting it too close in my opinion. The platoon had stopped the initial probe of Soviet forces and helped determine and shape Soviet intent. Staying in a good position isn’t always the right call. After all, the main goal of US forces in this scenario is to hold out long enough to allow logistics unit to pull out of the town and then have the combat forces fall back as well. Leaving 2nd platoon far forward could have risked them being cut off, either physically or by fires.
In the end, the decision to fall back is a subjective one made by the commander in the field. There is no perfect solution, but there are certainly wrong solutions. Many times, the difference between a good plan and a bad one is a simple matter of timing.
How did the Soviets fare? From the US perspective, they were soundly defeated. From the Soviet perspective, it is not quite that clear cut. Jokes about political commissars and propaganda spinning aside, this is not as bad for the Soviets as one might think. The job of the Soviet FSE is to find and either destroy the enemy or fix them in place. In this case, the FSE found the enemy and engaged it. The engagement was not successful, but the enemy was found. As a result, the Soviet main effort went down the other flank, avoiding the defensive position that caused them problems. Had 2nd platoon stayed in place, they would not have been able to effectively engage the Soviet main effort as it conducted its attack down the left flank and could have easily been cut off and unable to return to friendly lines. Plus, the Soviets do eventually take over the village and surrounding areas, which is the overall Soviet objective. While not blatantly successful, the efforts of the FSE have aided in attaining that goal. Finally, the entire FSE did not perish. Roughly half of the tanks and a 3rd of the infantry were lost discovering 2nd platoons location. The remaining tanks and infantry were able to establish initial positions in the center and left side of the map, revealing those routes to be viable avenues of approach for the Soviet main effort.
When viewed through the somewhat brutal lens of Soviet battlefield arithmetic, one can begin to understand how the Soviets might not view this as a resounding defeat. This understanding reveals insight into how the Soviets thought about success and defeat on the battlefield.      

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Boeing Yard, Fort Irwin, California
CPT Wren could feel a very strong headache coming on. It wasn’t the unbearable, searingly-dry heat, (well, it was the heat in part) so much as it was the logistical nightmare his company, and his Battalion Taskforce writ-large, had been dumped into. They had just arrived at the Boeing yard, serving as an initial assembly and equipment collection point for their rotation at the National Training Centre. The officers and senior NCOs were in absolute, collective shock at what greeted them. They had left most of their equipment behind at Ft. Stewart, with the promise that they would be provided with well-maintained, pre-positioned gear on arrival at Ft. Irwin.
The sight of the Battalion XO standing amidst the metaphorical wreckage, hands on hips, with an evil countenance on his face revealed how stretched the truth of that promise had been. If looks could kill, the MAJ would’ve struck down every civilian contractor in the yard by now. The displeasure radiating out of the Battalion XO was echoed by the companies’ XOs. Wren’s second in command, 1 LT Booth, looked like he was contemplating homicide whilst talking with the civilian contractors mounting MILEs gear to the Company’s M150 tank destroyers.
They had left behind relatively cutting-edge equipment, which they had left in top shape, back at their home posting. What greeted them were older models of M60 tanks and TOW launchers, lacking the excellent thermal sights they had come to rely on. The TF’s sister battalion that had just come back from rotation had never warned them about this. They had been put through the wringer and had warned his unit that the infamous OPFOR didn’t play by the rules.
Looking over at the rundown, dated equipment in poor repair, Wren couldn't help but feel that this was part of an elaborate plot to put them off balance before the rotation even began...
Chapter 1.1: The Hasty Attack
 
Near Brown Pass, National Training Centre, Fort Irwin.
The operations group had gathered around a sand table, essentially a scaled-down presentation of local terrain, to plan how they would kick off the mock war for the barren, craggy desert. Wren could feel the sun beating down on his exposed neck as he looked down. He had wisely kept his steel helmet off for the briefing, preferring a patrol cap. It offered some slight relief to the sensation that he was in an oven, and that he particularly was being burned in the pan.
The immediate mission was straightforward, in principle. Brigade had informed them that the lead elements of an enemy Motor Rifle Regiment (MRR) had entered the area of operations and was suspected to be heading towards one of several passages through the corridor. The enemy’s general intent was not difficult to divine: secure one of these features and allow the regiment to debouch onto the desert and deploy for an attack. The TF was to establish contact with the enemy’s forward elements, fix them and, if possible, destroy them. Follow up operations would then commence against the main body of the MRR.  
These first fights would devolve to the companies. The NTC was intended to train the army to fight a step down, that is, a company was expected to go toe-to-toe with an OPFOR battalion, and a battalion with a regiment. It was a tough ask. It put a lot of pressure on guys like Wren, but it also forged these junior leaders into the backbone of America’s army.
The NTC’s entire concept was one big, tough, ask. It had thus far put units, sometimes inadequately trained, always under-equipped, against a dedicated opposing force, or OPFOR. The US Army had played around with the idea of an opposing force before. What had resulted was a hokey B-movie routine simply called the “Aggressors.” They had no foundation in reality, no equipment that bore any relation to something in service, and failed completely to reflect any one of the many likely enemies the United States would face. The Aggressors, like the men who were tasked to portray them, had nothing worth fighting for. Units that rotated in to display them liked getting killed early and often, so they could get a hot meal at the mock casualty clearing stations. It was schlock, and the army had known it.
Fort Irwin, it’s dedicated OPFOR, and the MILEs system (think one giant game of angry laser tag) had changed all that.

This OPFOR had one task: play the Soviets better than the Soviets themselves, and brutalize their enemy whilst doing so. The fact the OPFOR was also expected to meet training standards as a US unit made it a nightmare opponent: a ruthlessly competent enemy that knew your playbook back-to-front.  The first bunch of battalions that had rotated through the NTC had come away shocked, and not infrequently in tatters. Wren’s TF had the advantage of learning from these initial rotations. Two TFs from sister brigades in their division had already gotten their NTC-issued hidings and had diligently and openly disseminated their experiences. They were, theoretically, the best prepared unit yet to come prepared for the fight.
This was their first opportunity to prove that. The Battalion S-2, a highly competent officer with a Master’s in psychology, had put his money down on the idea that the enemy’s lead elements would head for Brown pass. Wren’s area of responsibility. Considering this, the TF Commander had indicated he was willing to throw significant weight behind his company team. Combat aviation, and armour retained under task force control for support of his team, if need be. There were two courses of action: let the lead MRB come through the pass and hit them hard in the bottleneck or push through and find them in the open. The resources his CO was willing to allocate would change depending on the decision, but he trusted his CPT enough to reach one on his own and held his peace as to which he would have preferred.
Wren thought for a moment…Allowing the enemy to come through the pass was the “textbook” solution. It was canalizing terrain and would allow him to get the most out of his company team. It would be a mainly defensive operation, greatly aiding his chances of avoiding heavy losses. Thing is, textbook was obvious. The textbook made for poor reading in this situation, thought Wren. The first option ceded initiative to an OPFOR he knew was lean and mean on the offensive, especially one going to plan. He interrupted his thoughts with a question:
“Are you able to allocate me any of the scouts?” he asked his CO.
“No can do. We need them to tie into the armour battalion TF operating in the Southern Corridor, they can’t put dismounts in those hills as readily as we can.”
If he fought in Brown Pass himself, he would need to seriously contest the high valley mesas, or else the OPFOR would get observers up there and make any type of hasty defence untenable due to artillery fire. He wanted scouts for that, rather than have to put too much load on dismounted foot patrols taken from his platoon. The CO’s answer settled the dilemma. Wren reached over and pushed the little blue block representing his company team through the pass on the sand table.

He could see in his mind, the actual terrain leaping up around him. Wren had always had an eye for terrain, and he knew he could make the most of it here. The “open” ground north of Brown Pass was anything but. It was a series of plateaus, a giant natural staircase, that provided good cover to all but the tallest of vehicles and would allow a commander (on either side) to switch from a long-range engagement to a close-in one at a moment’s notice. The exit of the pass also had a craggy pair of mountains, impassable to vehicles, but perfect for dismounts. Pushing through would make that terrain all his. He intended to use it to its fullest effect.

Preparing for tomorrow’s operations meant it was going to be a long night. Wren, his hard-pressed XO and the platoon leaders had a lot of work to do to make the plan a reality. Wren also had to find the TACP, frustratingly absent at the briefing, and try to integrate the combat aviation into the plan, as he wouldn’t be able to have it “on call” and flexible once the rounds were flying back and forth.
***
16th October, 0900 Hours

They were through Brown Pass, without any enemy air interdiction. At least, 1st Platoon was through. So narrow was the defile, so real the threat of OPFOR air attack, that the Company team was deliberately strung out. This meant that, for 2LT Bunting’s forward group, if there was a fight, it would be his alone for some measure of time. His job was to fix the enemy for the rest of the Company team to manoeuvre aggressively. It was an important, high-risk task and a sign of the trust Wren put in his senior platoon leader. With Bunting’s platoon was the two M150 TOW vehicles, on loan from 1LT Benner’s platoon. The group was moving in staggered column, along a sandy trail, towards a low ridge that denoted the northern mouth of Brown Pass.
Bunting, riding in the lead M113 with a Dragon team and the assigned forward observer, looked over his shoulder. A pair of Cobras was providing intimate support and were hovering just behind Hill 165.5. Suddenly, one of the Cobras raised itself up a bit more and fired off a TOW missile with a hiss and a pop. Contact?

Contact! Urging his track forward, his driver cautiously nosed the M113 in fits and starts up the ridge. Calling a halt, he could see high, hanging dust clouds in the vicinity of PL “Yazoo”, one of several reporting lines to help the TOC track the advance of both B Company and the OPFOR. It quickly became apparent that multiple enemy BMPs were moving fast towards the mouth of the pass. More than he could handle in an open fight. Bunting reacted fast, and with clear-headedness. They had expected this. The Cobras were making the enemy squirm and push with haste, that could play to his advantage. The little bowl his group was in was excellent defensive terrain from which he could pin the enemy. Signalling over the platoon radio, as well as with his hands from the cargo hatch, he ordered his squad tracks into an umbrella-shaped defence.

The flying column cover being provided by the Cobras was showing its worth. Behind excellent positions, the Cobras took turns launching TOWs, which raced at knee-height over the desert to slam into BMPs’ flanks. Wren, hearing Bunting’s contact report, got the word back to TOC quickly. The planned F-16 strike went in 5 minutes after the initial contact report, and they laid their clusters in, presumably with devastating effect.


The OPFOR recon leader stayed calm. He must have known his best bet now was to get forward and to grab the enemy by the belt. The BMPs surged forward. They would be in Bunting’s perimeter within minutes if the Americans didn’t react strongly.

The TOWs weighed in, however, at Bunting’s command. They fired from excellent hull down positions along the low ridge he established his fighting position from. To Bunting’s chagrin, their first few shots are wildly off target. The TOW crews were inexperienced and clearly a bit awe-struck at the sight of a company of BMPs ruthlessly pushing through air attack. It takes two engagements to finally find their nerve – and their targets. A BMP burns.

Then the enemy weighs in with their own fire support. A thunderous crush of artillery impacts just to the left of Bunting’s track. He buttons up to avoid the angry, buzzing shards of shrapnel. The OPFOR artillery is off target but still denies a large part of this excellent battle position to him. More alarmingly, it kicks up the high, hanging dust Bunting has already learned defines the NTC’s desert terrain. Soon his attached TOWs are telling them they can no longer actively engage threats through the dust. ****, this is going to get close and messy, thinks Bunting.
“Earl, get that ramp down and get your ass out with the Dragon, get up there!” he screams to the mounted Dragon team, ducking back down into the cargo compartment.  “Evans, get posted somewhere on this ridge and the Chucks going!” he continues, calmer now, to the attached FO.

The BMPs were only 600 meters or so away now. The vagaries of the terrain were making themselves felt. BMPs were flitting in and out of sight, and the TOWs continued to have trouble engaging, only managing to pick off the occasional BMP.
SPC Earl, the platoon’s Dragon gunner, calmly sets up on a bit of the ridge, determined to cover the short front of the Platoon’s BP. He ignores the artillery, as best he can, and adopts the awkward cross-legged firing position, waiting for the first enemy to pop up over the plateau. A pair of BMPs shortly obliges him, even halting momentarily, to his delight. One is shortly burning. The TOWs catch a lucky break soon afterwards and tally two more BMPs.

In a furious five minutes, Bunting’s small force and air cover appeared to have mauled an enemy company. There was no time to rest on their laurels, however. Another platoon of BMPs, seeing the carnage to their front, smartly pull to their left, disgorging dismounts and creating smoke, and then surge past Bunting’s right flank, towards Point 199.1. Through gaps in the smoke, Bunting is able to track the line of enemy dismounts, and he spots in the distance even more BMPs – the enemy’s main security element?
The Cobras have ceased fire, displacing so as to avoid enemy anti-air fire. A wise move, to be sure, but a poorly timed one from Bunting’s perspective. He has no way of raising them quickly again, lacking a direct communications line to them. It was entirely his fight now.  
Movement is key to any defence, but especially a hasty one. The TOWs were ordered to displace to cover the burgeoning threat on the right flank, but this takes them dangerously close to the enemy artillery fire. The TOW crews find themselves constantly ducking back down to avoid shrapnel.

Nevertheless, they can re-engage, picking off a few of the flankers. 

Then, out of the smoke - and through its own artillery - surges a single enemy BMP. Bunting, too focused on the immediate fight, had never strictly given orders to his squads to dismount in the reverse slope. Luckily, his experienced NCOs read in between the lines and dismounted on their own initiative and had liberally handed-out LAWs to their men whilst doing so. The BMP is engaged effectively by these disposable rockets and is swiftly knocked out.

 
***
This is a beefy chapter, and I don't want to bore you to death...bite sized chunks. To be continued (as for the Normandy DAR, the backlog of photos do was larger than thought, apologies). 

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Thank you, truly. I enjoy the NTC, so much more so when compared directly with the Soviet training scenarios. Which leads me to address this: 
 

Yep, and it clearly accomplishes its goal and it's useful to do this. In reality too, but only to a degree. It's a good first port of call but without more organic training scenarios (like the NTC) it leaves an individual with a superficial understanding. Which you will see when we get to the Valley of Ashes part of this, but you already know how that one ends. 
In the game the NTC gets people used to three things very quickly: good enemy soft stats, functional technological parity and taking losses. People either choose to accept those realities going into the title, or put it down and go back to Shock Force 2. 

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Boeing Yard, Fort Irwin, California
CPT Wren could feel a very strong headache coming on. It wasn’t the unbearable, searingly-dry heat, (well, it was the heat in part) so much as it was the logistical nightmare his company, and his Battalion Taskforce writ-large, had been dumped into. They had just arrived at the Boeing yard, serving as an initial assembly and equipment collection point for their rotation at the National Training Centre. The officers and senior NCOs were in absolute, collective shock at what greeted them. They had left most of their equipment behind at Ft. Stewart, with the promise that they would be provided with well-maintained, pre-positioned gear on arrival at Ft. Irwin.
The sight of the Battalion XO standing amidst the metaphorical wreckage, hands on hips, with an evil countenance on his face revealed how stretched the truth of that promise had been. If looks could kill, the MAJ would’ve struck down every civilian contractor in the yard by now. The displeasure radiating out of the Battalion XO was echoed by the companies’ XOs. Wren’s second in command, 1 LT Booth, looked like he was contemplating homicide whilst talking with the civilian contractors mounting MILEs gear to the Company’s M150 tank destroyers.
They had left behind relatively cutting-edge equipment, which they had left in top shape, back at their home posting. What greeted them were older models of M60 tanks and TOW launchers, lacking the excellent thermal sights they had come to rely on. The TF’s sister battalion that had just come back from rotation had never warned them about this. They had been put through the wringer and had warned his unit that the infamous OPFOR didn’t play by the rules.
Looking over at the rundown, dated equipment in poor repair, Wren couldn't help but feel that this was part of an elaborate plot to put them off balance before the rotation even began...
Chapter 1.1: The Hasty Attack
 
Near Brown Pass, National Training Centre, Fort Irwin.
The operations group had gathered around a sand table, essentially a scaled-down presentation of local terrain, to plan how they would kick off the mock war for the barren, craggy desert. Wren could feel the sun beating down on his exposed neck as he looked down. He had wisely kept his steel helmet off for the briefing, preferring a patrol cap. It offered some slight relief to the sensation that he was in an oven, and that he particularly was being burned in the pan.
The immediate mission was straightforward, in principle. Brigade had informed them that the lead elements of an enemy Motor Rifle Regiment (MRR) had entered the area of operations and was suspected to be heading towards one of several passages through the corridor. The enemy’s general intent was not difficult to divine: secure one of these features and allow the regiment to debouch onto the desert and deploy for an attack. The TF was to establish contact with the enemy’s forward elements, fix them and, if possible, destroy them. Follow up operations would then commence against the main body of the MRR.  
These first fights would devolve to the companies. The NTC was intended to train the army to fight a step down, that is, a company was expected to go toe-to-toe with an OPFOR battalion, and a battalion with a regiment. It was a tough ask. It put a lot of pressure on guys like Wren, but it also forged these junior leaders into the backbone of America’s army.
The NTC’s entire concept was one big, tough, ask. It had thus far put units, sometimes inadequately trained, always under-equipped, against a dedicated opposing force, or OPFOR. The US Army had played around with the idea of an opposing force before. What had resulted was a hokey B-movie routine simply called the “Aggressors.” They had no foundation in reality, no equipment that bore any relation to something in service, and failed completely to reflect any one of the many likely enemies the United States would face. The Aggressors, like the men who were tasked to portray them, had nothing worth fighting for. Units that rotated in to display them liked getting killed early and often, so they could get a hot meal at the mock casualty clearing stations. It was schlock, and the army had known it.
Fort Irwin, it’s dedicated OPFOR, and the MILEs system (think one giant game of angry laser tag) had changed all that.

This OPFOR had one task: play the Soviets better than the Soviets themselves, and brutalize their enemy whilst doing so. The fact the OPFOR was also expected to meet training standards as a US unit made it a nightmare opponent: a ruthlessly competent enemy that knew your playbook back-to-front.  The first bunch of battalions that had rotated through the NTC had come away shocked, and not infrequently in tatters. Wren’s TF had the advantage of learning from these initial rotations. Two TFs from sister brigades in their division had already gotten their NTC-issued hidings and had diligently and openly disseminated their experiences. They were, theoretically, the best prepared unit yet to come prepared for the fight.
This was their first opportunity to prove that. The Battalion S-2, a highly competent officer with a Master’s in psychology, had put his money down on the idea that the enemy’s lead elements would head for Brown pass. Wren’s area of responsibility. Considering this, the TF Commander had indicated he was willing to throw significant weight behind his company team. Combat aviation, and armour retained under task force control for support of his team, if need be. There were two courses of action: let the lead MRB come through the pass and hit them hard in the bottleneck or push through and find them in the open. The resources his CO was willing to allocate would change depending on the decision, but he trusted his CPT enough to reach one on his own and held his peace as to which he would have preferred.
Wren thought for a moment…Allowing the enemy to come through the pass was the “textbook” solution. It was canalizing terrain and would allow him to get the most out of his company team. It would be a mainly defensive operation, greatly aiding his chances of avoiding heavy losses. Thing is, textbook was obvious. The textbook made for poor reading in this situation, thought Wren. The first option ceded initiative to an OPFOR he knew was lean and mean on the offensive, especially one going to plan. He interrupted his thoughts with a question:
“Are you able to allocate me any of the scouts?” he asked his CO.
“No can do. We need them to tie into the armour battalion TF operating in the Southern Corridor, they can’t put dismounts in those hills as readily as we can.”
If he fought in Brown Pass himself, he would need to seriously contest the high valley mesas, or else the OPFOR would get observers up there and make any type of hasty defence untenable due to artillery fire. He wanted scouts for that, rather than have to put too much load on dismounted foot patrols taken from his platoon. The CO’s answer settled the dilemma. Wren reached over and pushed the little blue block representing his company team through the pass on the sand table.

He could see in his mind, the actual terrain leaping up around him. Wren had always had an eye for terrain, and he knew he could make the most of it here. The “open” ground north of Brown Pass was anything but. It was a series of plateaus, a giant natural staircase, that provided good cover to all but the tallest of vehicles and would allow a commander (on either side) to switch from a long-range engagement to a close-in one at a moment’s notice. The exit of the pass also had a craggy pair of mountains, impassable to vehicles, but perfect for dismounts. Pushing through would make that terrain all his. He intended to use it to its fullest effect.

Preparing for tomorrow’s operations meant it was going to be a long night. Wren, his hard-pressed XO and the platoon leaders had a lot of work to do to make the plan a reality. Wren also had to find the TACP, frustratingly absent at the briefing, and try to integrate the combat aviation into the plan, as he wouldn’t be able to have it “on call” and flexible once the rounds were flying back and forth.
***
16th October, 0900 Hours

They were through Brown Pass, without any enemy air interdiction. At least, 1st Platoon was through. So narrow was the defile, so real the threat of OPFOR air attack, that the Company team was deliberately strung out. This meant that, for 2LT Bunting’s forward group, if there was a fight, it would be his alone for some measure of time. His job was to fix the enemy for the rest of the Company team to manoeuvre aggressively. It was an important, high-risk task and a sign of the trust Wren put in his senior platoon leader. With Bunting’s platoon was the two M150 TOW vehicles, on loan from 1LT Benner’s platoon. The group was moving in staggered column, along a sandy trail, towards a low ridge that denoted the northern mouth of Brown Pass.
Bunting, riding in the lead M113 with a Dragon team and the assigned forward observer, looked over his shoulder. A pair of Cobras was providing intimate support and were hovering just behind Hill 165.5. Suddenly, one of the Cobras raised itself up a bit more and fired off a TOW missile with a hiss and a pop. Contact?

Contact! Urging his track forward, his driver cautiously nosed the M113 in fits and starts up the ridge. Calling a halt, he could see high, hanging dust clouds in the vicinity of PL “Yazoo”, one of several reporting lines to help the TOC track the advance of both B Company and the OPFOR. It quickly became apparent that multiple enemy BMPs were moving fast towards the mouth of the pass. More than he could handle in an open fight. Bunting reacted fast, and with clear-headedness. They had expected this. The Cobras were making the enemy squirm and push with haste, that could play to his advantage. The little bowl his group was in was excellent defensive terrain from which he could pin the enemy. Signalling over the platoon radio, as well as with his hands from the cargo hatch, he ordered his squad tracks into an umbrella-shaped defence.

The flying column cover being provided by the Cobras was showing its worth. Behind excellent positions, the Cobras took turns launching TOWs, which raced at knee-height over the desert to slam into BMPs’ flanks. Wren, hearing Bunting’s contact report, got the word back to TOC quickly. The planned F-16 strike went in 5 minutes after the initial contact report, and they laid their clusters in, presumably with devastating effect.


The OPFOR recon leader stayed calm. He must have known his best bet now was to get forward and to grab the enemy by the belt. The BMPs surged forward. They would be in Bunting’s perimeter within minutes if the Americans didn’t react strongly.

The TOWs weighed in, however, at Bunting’s command. They fired from excellent hull down positions along the low ridge he established his fighting position from. To Bunting’s chagrin, their first few shots are wildly off target. The TOW crews were inexperienced and clearly a bit awe-struck at the sight of a company of BMPs ruthlessly pushing through air attack. It takes two engagements to finally find their nerve – and their targets. A BMP burns.

Then the enemy weighs in with their own fire support. A thunderous crush of artillery impacts just to the left of Bunting’s track. He buttons up to avoid the angry, buzzing shards of shrapnel. The OPFOR artillery is off target but still denies a large part of this excellent battle position to him. More alarmingly, it kicks up the high, hanging dust Bunting has already learned defines the NTC’s desert terrain. Soon his attached TOWs are telling them they can no longer actively engage threats through the dust. ****, this is going to get close and messy, thinks Bunting.
“Earl, get that ramp down and get your ass out with the Dragon, get up there!” he screams to the mounted Dragon team, ducking back down into the cargo compartment.  “Evans, get posted somewhere on this ridge and the Chucks going!” he continues, calmer now, to the attached FO.

The BMPs were only 600 meters or so away now. The vagaries of the terrain were making themselves felt. BMPs were flitting in and out of sight, and the TOWs continued to have trouble engaging, only managing to pick off the occasional BMP.
SPC Earl, the platoon’s Dragon gunner, calmly sets up on a bit of the ridge, determined to cover the short front of the Platoon’s BP. He ignores the artillery, as best he can, and adopts the awkward cross-legged firing position, waiting for the first enemy to pop up over the plateau. A pair of BMPs shortly obliges him, even halting momentarily, to his delight. One is shortly burning. The TOWs catch a lucky break soon afterwards and tally two more BMPs.

In a furious five minutes, Bunting’s small force and air cover appeared to have mauled an enemy company. There was no time to rest on their laurels, however. Another platoon of BMPs, seeing the carnage to their front, smartly pull to their left, disgorging dismounts and creating smoke, and then surge past Bunting’s right flank, towards Point 199.1. Through gaps in the smoke, Bunting is able to track the line of enemy dismounts, and he spots in the distance even more BMPs – the enemy’s main security element?
The Cobras have ceased fire, displacing so as to avoid enemy anti-air fire. A wise move, to be sure, but a poorly timed one from Bunting’s perspective. He has no way of raising them quickly again, lacking a direct communications line to them. It was entirely his fight now.  
Movement is key to any defence, but especially a hasty one. The TOWs were ordered to displace to cover the burgeoning threat on the right flank, but this takes them dangerously close to the enemy artillery fire. The TOW crews find themselves constantly ducking back down to avoid shrapnel.

Nevertheless, they can re-engage, picking off a few of the flankers. 

Then, out of the smoke - and through its own artillery - surges a single enemy BMP. Bunting, too focused on the immediate fight, had never strictly given orders to his squads to dismount in the reverse slope. Luckily, his experienced NCOs read in between the lines and dismounted on their own initiative and had liberally handed-out LAWs to their men whilst doing so. The BMP is engaged effectively by these disposable rockets and is swiftly knocked out.

 
***
This is a beefy chapter, and I don't want to bore you to death...bite sized chunks. To be continued (as for the Normandy DAR, the backlog of photos do was larger than thought, apologies). 

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Boeing Yard, Fort Irwin, California
CPT Wren could feel a very strong headache coming on. It wasn’t the unbearable, searingly-dry heat, (well, it was the heat in part) so much as it was the logistical nightmare his company, and his Battalion Taskforce writ-large, had been dumped into. They had just arrived at the Boeing yard, serving as an initial assembly and equipment collection point for their rotation at the National Training Centre. The officers and senior NCOs were in absolute, collective shock at what greeted them. They had left most of their equipment behind at Ft. Stewart, with the promise that they would be provided with well-maintained, pre-positioned gear on arrival at Ft. Irwin.
The sight of the Battalion XO standing amidst the metaphorical wreckage, hands on hips, with an evil countenance on his face revealed how stretched the truth of that promise had been. If looks could kill, the MAJ would’ve struck down every civilian contractor in the yard by now. The displeasure radiating out of the Battalion XO was echoed by the companies’ XOs. Wren’s second in command, 1 LT Booth, looked like he was contemplating homicide whilst talking with the civilian contractors mounting MILEs gear to the Company’s M150 tank destroyers.
They had left behind relatively cutting-edge equipment, which they had left in top shape, back at their home posting. What greeted them were older models of M60 tanks and TOW launchers, lacking the excellent thermal sights they had come to rely on. The TF’s sister battalion that had just come back from rotation had never warned them about this. They had been put through the wringer and had warned his unit that the infamous OPFOR didn’t play by the rules.
Looking over at the rundown, dated equipment in poor repair, Wren couldn't help but feel that this was part of an elaborate plot to put them off balance before the rotation even began...
Chapter 1.1: The Hasty Attack
 
Near Brown Pass, National Training Centre, Fort Irwin.
The operations group had gathered around a sand table, essentially a scaled-down presentation of local terrain, to plan how they would kick off the mock war for the barren, craggy desert. Wren could feel the sun beating down on his exposed neck as he looked down. He had wisely kept his steel helmet off for the briefing, preferring a patrol cap. It offered some slight relief to the sensation that he was in an oven, and that he particularly was being burned in the pan.
The immediate mission was straightforward, in principle. Brigade had informed them that the lead elements of an enemy Motor Rifle Regiment (MRR) had entered the area of operations and was suspected to be heading towards one of several passages through the corridor. The enemy’s general intent was not difficult to divine: secure one of these features and allow the regiment to debouch onto the desert and deploy for an attack. The TF was to establish contact with the enemy’s forward elements, fix them and, if possible, destroy them. Follow up operations would then commence against the main body of the MRR.  
These first fights would devolve to the companies. The NTC was intended to train the army to fight a step down, that is, a company was expected to go toe-to-toe with an OPFOR battalion, and a battalion with a regiment. It was a tough ask. It put a lot of pressure on guys like Wren, but it also forged these junior leaders into the backbone of America’s army.
The NTC’s entire concept was one big, tough, ask. It had thus far put units, sometimes inadequately trained, always under-equipped, against a dedicated opposing force, or OPFOR. The US Army had played around with the idea of an opposing force before. What had resulted was a hokey B-movie routine simply called the “Aggressors.” They had no foundation in reality, no equipment that bore any relation to something in service, and failed completely to reflect any one of the many likely enemies the United States would face. The Aggressors, like the men who were tasked to portray them, had nothing worth fighting for. Units that rotated in to display them liked getting killed early and often, so they could get a hot meal at the mock casualty clearing stations. It was schlock, and the army had known it.
Fort Irwin, it’s dedicated OPFOR, and the MILEs system (think one giant game of angry laser tag) had changed all that.

This OPFOR had one task: play the Soviets better than the Soviets themselves, and brutalize their enemy whilst doing so. The fact the OPFOR was also expected to meet training standards as a US unit made it a nightmare opponent: a ruthlessly competent enemy that knew your playbook back-to-front.  The first bunch of battalions that had rotated through the NTC had come away shocked, and not infrequently in tatters. Wren’s TF had the advantage of learning from these initial rotations. Two TFs from sister brigades in their division had already gotten their NTC-issued hidings and had diligently and openly disseminated their experiences. They were, theoretically, the best prepared unit yet to come prepared for the fight.
This was their first opportunity to prove that. The Battalion S-2, a highly competent officer with a Master’s in psychology, had put his money down on the idea that the enemy’s lead elements would head for Brown pass. Wren’s area of responsibility. Considering this, the TF Commander had indicated he was willing to throw significant weight behind his company team. Combat aviation, and armour retained under task force control for support of his team, if need be. There were two courses of action: let the lead MRB come through the pass and hit them hard in the bottleneck or push through and find them in the open. The resources his CO was willing to allocate would change depending on the decision, but he trusted his CPT enough to reach one on his own and held his peace as to which he would have preferred.
Wren thought for a moment…Allowing the enemy to come through the pass was the “textbook” solution. It was canalizing terrain and would allow him to get the most out of his company team. It would be a mainly defensive operation, greatly aiding his chances of avoiding heavy losses. Thing is, textbook was obvious. The textbook made for poor reading in this situation, thought Wren. The first option ceded initiative to an OPFOR he knew was lean and mean on the offensive, especially one going to plan. He interrupted his thoughts with a question:
“Are you able to allocate me any of the scouts?” he asked his CO.
“No can do. We need them to tie into the armour battalion TF operating in the Southern Corridor, they can’t put dismounts in those hills as readily as we can.”
If he fought in Brown Pass himself, he would need to seriously contest the high valley mesas, or else the OPFOR would get observers up there and make any type of hasty defence untenable due to artillery fire. He wanted scouts for that, rather than have to put too much load on dismounted foot patrols taken from his platoon. The CO’s answer settled the dilemma. Wren reached over and pushed the little blue block representing his company team through the pass on the sand table.

He could see in his mind, the actual terrain leaping up around him. Wren had always had an eye for terrain, and he knew he could make the most of it here. The “open” ground north of Brown Pass was anything but. It was a series of plateaus, a giant natural staircase, that provided good cover to all but the tallest of vehicles and would allow a commander (on either side) to switch from a long-range engagement to a close-in one at a moment’s notice. The exit of the pass also had a craggy pair of mountains, impassable to vehicles, but perfect for dismounts. Pushing through would make that terrain all his. He intended to use it to its fullest effect.

Preparing for tomorrow’s operations meant it was going to be a long night. Wren, his hard-pressed XO and the platoon leaders had a lot of work to do to make the plan a reality. Wren also had to find the TACP, frustratingly absent at the briefing, and try to integrate the combat aviation into the plan, as he wouldn’t be able to have it “on call” and flexible once the rounds were flying back and forth.
***
16th October, 0900 Hours

They were through Brown Pass, without any enemy air interdiction. At least, 1st Platoon was through. So narrow was the defile, so real the threat of OPFOR air attack, that the Company team was deliberately strung out. This meant that, for 2LT Bunting’s forward group, if there was a fight, it would be his alone for some measure of time. His job was to fix the enemy for the rest of the Company team to manoeuvre aggressively. It was an important, high-risk task and a sign of the trust Wren put in his senior platoon leader. With Bunting’s platoon was the two M150 TOW vehicles, on loan from 1LT Benner’s platoon. The group was moving in staggered column, along a sandy trail, towards a low ridge that denoted the northern mouth of Brown Pass.
Bunting, riding in the lead M113 with a Dragon team and the assigned forward observer, looked over his shoulder. A pair of Cobras was providing intimate support and were hovering just behind Hill 165.5. Suddenly, one of the Cobras raised itself up a bit more and fired off a TOW missile with a hiss and a pop. Contact?

Contact! Urging his track forward, his driver cautiously nosed the M113 in fits and starts up the ridge. Calling a halt, he could see high, hanging dust clouds in the vicinity of PL “Yazoo”, one of several reporting lines to help the TOC track the advance of both B Company and the OPFOR. It quickly became apparent that multiple enemy BMPs were moving fast towards the mouth of the pass. More than he could handle in an open fight. Bunting reacted fast, and with clear-headedness. They had expected this. The Cobras were making the enemy squirm and push with haste, that could play to his advantage. The little bowl his group was in was excellent defensive terrain from which he could pin the enemy. Signalling over the platoon radio, as well as with his hands from the cargo hatch, he ordered his squad tracks into an umbrella-shaped defence.

The flying column cover being provided by the Cobras was showing its worth. Behind excellent positions, the Cobras took turns launching TOWs, which raced at knee-height over the desert to slam into BMPs’ flanks. Wren, hearing Bunting’s contact report, got the word back to TOC quickly. The planned F-16 strike went in 5 minutes after the initial contact report, and they laid their clusters in, presumably with devastating effect.


The OPFOR recon leader stayed calm. He must have known his best bet now was to get forward and to grab the enemy by the belt. The BMPs surged forward. They would be in Bunting’s perimeter within minutes if the Americans didn’t react strongly.

The TOWs weighed in, however, at Bunting’s command. They fired from excellent hull down positions along the low ridge he established his fighting position from. To Bunting’s chagrin, their first few shots are wildly off target. The TOW crews were inexperienced and clearly a bit awe-struck at the sight of a company of BMPs ruthlessly pushing through air attack. It takes two engagements to finally find their nerve – and their targets. A BMP burns.

Then the enemy weighs in with their own fire support. A thunderous crush of artillery impacts just to the left of Bunting’s track. He buttons up to avoid the angry, buzzing shards of shrapnel. The OPFOR artillery is off target but still denies a large part of this excellent battle position to him. More alarmingly, it kicks up the high, hanging dust Bunting has already learned defines the NTC’s desert terrain. Soon his attached TOWs are telling them they can no longer actively engage threats through the dust. ****, this is going to get close and messy, thinks Bunting.
“Earl, get that ramp down and get your ass out with the Dragon, get up there!” he screams to the mounted Dragon team, ducking back down into the cargo compartment.  “Evans, get posted somewhere on this ridge and the Chucks going!” he continues, calmer now, to the attached FO.

The BMPs were only 600 meters or so away now. The vagaries of the terrain were making themselves felt. BMPs were flitting in and out of sight, and the TOWs continued to have trouble engaging, only managing to pick off the occasional BMP.
SPC Earl, the platoon’s Dragon gunner, calmly sets up on a bit of the ridge, determined to cover the short front of the Platoon’s BP. He ignores the artillery, as best he can, and adopts the awkward cross-legged firing position, waiting for the first enemy to pop up over the plateau. A pair of BMPs shortly obliges him, even halting momentarily, to his delight. One is shortly burning. The TOWs catch a lucky break soon afterwards and tally two more BMPs.

In a furious five minutes, Bunting’s small force and air cover appeared to have mauled an enemy company. There was no time to rest on their laurels, however. Another platoon of BMPs, seeing the carnage to their front, smartly pull to their left, disgorging dismounts and creating smoke, and then surge past Bunting’s right flank, towards Point 199.1. Through gaps in the smoke, Bunting is able to track the line of enemy dismounts, and he spots in the distance even more BMPs – the enemy’s main security element?
The Cobras have ceased fire, displacing so as to avoid enemy anti-air fire. A wise move, to be sure, but a poorly timed one from Bunting’s perspective. He has no way of raising them quickly again, lacking a direct communications line to them. It was entirely his fight now.  
Movement is key to any defence, but especially a hasty one. The TOWs were ordered to displace to cover the burgeoning threat on the right flank, but this takes them dangerously close to the enemy artillery fire. The TOW crews find themselves constantly ducking back down to avoid shrapnel.

Nevertheless, they can re-engage, picking off a few of the flankers. 

Then, out of the smoke - and through its own artillery - surges a single enemy BMP. Bunting, too focused on the immediate fight, had never strictly given orders to his squads to dismount in the reverse slope. Luckily, his experienced NCOs read in between the lines and dismounted on their own initiative and had liberally handed-out LAWs to their men whilst doing so. The BMP is engaged effectively by these disposable rockets and is swiftly knocked out.

 
***
This is a beefy chapter, and I don't want to bore you to death...bite sized chunks. To be continued (as for the Normandy DAR, the backlog of photos do was larger than thought, apologies). 

Boeing Yard, Fort Irwin, California
CPT Wren could feel a very strong headache coming on. It wasn’t the unbearable, searingly-dry heat, (well, it was the heat in part) so much as it was the logistical nightmare his company, and his Battalion Taskforce writ-large, had been dumped into. They had just arrived at the Boeing yard, serving as an initial assembly and equipment collection point for their rotation at the National Training Centre. The officers and senior NCOs were in absolute, collective shock at what greeted them. They had left most of their equipment behind at Ft. Stewart, with the promise that they would be provided with well-maintained, pre-positioned gear on arrival at Ft. Irwin.
The sight of the Battalion XO standing amidst the metaphorical wreckage, hands on hips, with an evil countenance on his face revealed how stretched the truth of that promise had been. If looks could kill, the MAJ would’ve struck down every civilian contractor in the yard by now. The displeasure radiating out of the Battalion XO was echoed by the companies’ XOs. Wren’s second in command, 1 LT Booth, looked like he was contemplating homicide whilst talking with the civilian contractors mounting MILEs gear to the Company’s M150 tank destroyers.
They had left behind relatively cutting-edge equipment, which they had left in top shape, back at their home posting. What greeted them were older models of M60 tanks and TOW launchers, lacking the excellent thermal sights they had come to rely on. The TF’s sister battalion that had just come back from rotation had never warned them about this. They had been put through the wringer and had warned his unit that the infamous OPFOR didn’t play by the rules.
Looking over at the rundown, dated equipment in poor repair, Wren couldn't help but feel that this was part of an elaborate plot to put them off balance before the rotation even began...
Chapter 1.1: The Hasty Attack
 
Near Brown Pass, National Training Centre, Fort Irwin.
The operations group had gathered around a sand table, essentially a scaled-down presentation of local terrain, to plan how they would kick off the mock war for the barren, craggy desert. Wren could feel the sun beating down on his exposed neck as he looked down. He had wisely kept his steel helmet off for the briefing, preferring a patrol cap. It offered some slight relief to the sensation that he was in an oven, and that he particularly was being burned in the pan.
The immediate mission was straightforward, in principle. Brigade had informed them that the lead elements of an enemy Motor Rifle Regiment (MRR) had entered the area of operations and was suspected to be heading towards one of several passages through the corridor. The enemy’s general intent was not difficult to divine: secure one of these features and allow the regiment to debouch onto the desert and deploy for an attack. The TF was to establish contact with the enemy’s forward elements, fix them and, if possible, destroy them. Follow up operations would then commence against the main body of the MRR.  
These first fights would devolve to the companies. The NTC was intended to train the army to fight a step down, that is, a company was expected to go toe-to-toe with an OPFOR battalion, and a battalion with a regiment. It was a tough ask. It put a lot of pressure on guys like Wren, but it also forged these junior leaders into the backbone of America’s army.
The NTC’s entire concept was one big, tough, ask. It had thus far put units, sometimes inadequately trained, always under-equipped, against a dedicated opposing force, or OPFOR. The US Army had played around with the idea of an opposing force before. What had resulted was a hokey B-movie routine simply called the “Aggressors.” They had no foundation in reality, no equipment that bore any relation to something in service, and failed completely to reflect any one of the many likely enemies the United States would face. The Aggressors, like the men who were tasked to portray them, had nothing worth fighting for. Units that rotated in to display them liked getting killed early and often, so they could get a hot meal at the mock casualty clearing stations. It was schlock, and the army had known it.
Fort Irwin, it’s dedicated OPFOR, and the MILEs system (think one giant game of angry laser tag) had changed all that.

This OPFOR had one task: play the Soviets better than the Soviets themselves, and brutalize their enemy whilst doing so. The fact the OPFOR was also expected to meet training standards as a US unit made it a nightmare opponent: a ruthlessly competent enemy that knew your playbook back-to-front.  The first bunch of battalions that had rotated through the NTC had come away shocked, and not infrequently in tatters. Wren’s TF had the advantage of learning from these initial rotations. Two TFs from sister brigades in their division had already gotten their NTC-issued hidings and had diligently and openly disseminated their experiences. They were, theoretically, the best prepared unit yet to come prepared for the fight.
This was their first opportunity to prove that. The Battalion S-2, a highly competent officer with a Master’s in psychology, had put his money down on the idea that the enemy’s lead elements would head for Brown pass. Wren’s area of responsibility. Considering this, the TF Commander had indicated he was willing to throw significant weight behind his company team. Combat aviation, and armour retained under task force control for support of his team, if need be. There were two courses of action: let the lead MRB come through the pass and hit them hard in the bottleneck or push through and find them in the open. The resources his CO was willing to allocate would change depending on the decision, but he trusted his CPT enough to reach one on his own and held his peace as to which he would have preferred.
Wren thought for a moment…Allowing the enemy to come through the pass was the “textbook” solution. It was canalizing terrain and would allow him to get the most out of his company team. It would be a mainly defensive operation, greatly aiding his chances of avoiding heavy losses. Thing is, textbook was obvious. The textbook made for poor reading in this situation, thought Wren. The first option ceded initiative to an OPFOR he knew was lean and mean on the offensive, especially one going to plan. He interrupted his thoughts with a question:
“Are you able to allocate me any of the scouts?” he asked his CO.
“No can do. We need them to tie into the armour battalion TF operating in the Southern Corridor, they can’t put dismounts in those hills as readily as we can.”
If he fought in Brown Pass himself, he would need to seriously contest the high valley mesas, or else the OPFOR would get observers up there and make any type of hasty defence untenable due to artillery fire. He wanted scouts for that, rather than have to put too much load on dismounted foot patrols taken from his platoon. The CO’s answer settled the dilemma. Wren reached over and pushed the little blue block representing his company team through the pass on the sand table.

He could see in his mind, the actual terrain leaping up around him. Wren had always had an eye for terrain, and he knew he could make the most of it here. The “open” ground north of Brown Pass was anything but. It was a series of plateaus, a giant natural staircase, that provided good cover to all but the tallest of vehicles and would allow a commander (on either side) to switch from a long-range engagement to a close-in one at a moment’s notice. The exit of the pass also had a craggy pair of mountains, impassable to vehicles, but perfect for dismounts. Pushing through would make that terrain all his. He intended to use it to its fullest effect.

Preparing for tomorrow’s operations meant it was going to be a long night. Wren, his hard-pressed XO and the platoon leaders had a lot of work to do to make the plan a reality. Wren also had to find the TACP, frustratingly absent at the briefing, and try to integrate the combat aviation into the plan, as he wouldn’t be able to have it “on call” and flexible once the rounds were flying back and forth.
***
16th October, 0900 Hours

They were through Brown Pass, without any enemy air interdiction. At least, 1st Platoon was through. So narrow was the defile, so real the threat of OPFOR air attack, that the Company team was deliberately strung out. This meant that, for 2LT Bunting’s forward group, if there was a fight, it would be his alone for some measure of time. His job was to fix the enemy for the rest of the Company team to manoeuvre aggressively. It was an important, high-risk task and a sign of the trust Wren put in his senior platoon leader. With Bunting’s platoon was the two M150 TOW vehicles, on loan from 1LT Benner’s platoon. The group was moving in staggered column, along a sandy trail, towards a low ridge that denoted the northern mouth of Brown Pass.
Bunting, riding in the lead M113 with a Dragon team and the assigned forward observer, looked over his shoulder. A pair of Cobras was providing intimate support and were hovering just behind Hill 165.5. Suddenly, one of the Cobras raised itself up a bit more and fired off a TOW missile with a hiss and a pop. Contact?

Contact! Urging his track forward, his driver cautiously nosed the M113 in fits and starts up the ridge. Calling a halt, he could see high, hanging dust clouds in the vicinity of PL “Yazoo”, one of several reporting lines to help the TOC track the advance of both B Company and the OPFOR. It quickly became apparent that multiple enemy BMPs were moving fast towards the mouth of the pass. More than he could handle in an open fight. Bunting reacted fast, and with clear-headedness. They had expected this. The Cobras were making the enemy squirm and push with haste, that could play to his advantage. The little bowl his group was in was excellent defensive terrain from which he could pin the enemy. Signalling over the platoon radio, as well as with his hands from the cargo hatch, he ordered his squad tracks into an umbrella-shaped defence.

The flying column cover being provided by the Cobras was showing its worth. Behind excellent positions, the Cobras took turns launching TOWs, which raced at knee-height over the desert to slam into BMPs’ flanks. Wren, hearing Bunting’s contact report, got the word back to TOC quickly. The planned F-16 strike went in 5 minutes after the initial contact report, and they laid their clusters in, presumably with devastating effect.


The OPFOR recon leader stayed calm. He must have known his best bet now was to get forward and to grab the enemy by the belt. The BMPs surged forward. They would be in Bunting’s perimeter within minutes if the Americans didn’t react strongly.

The TOWs weighed in, however, at Bunting’s command. They fired from excellent hull down positions along the low ridge he established his fighting position from. To Bunting’s chagrin, their first few shots are wildly off target. The TOW crews were inexperienced and clearly a bit awe-struck at the sight of a company of BMPs ruthlessly pushing through air attack. It takes two engagements to finally find their nerve – and their targets. A BMP burns.

Then the enemy weighs in with their own fire support. A thunderous crush of artillery impacts just to the left of Bunting’s track. He buttons up to avoid the angry, buzzing shards of shrapnel. The OPFOR artillery is off target but still denies a large part of this excellent battle position to him. More alarmingly, it kicks up the high, hanging dust Bunting has already learned defines the NTC’s desert terrain. Soon his attached TOWs are telling them they can no longer actively engage threats through the dust. ****, this is going to get close and messy, thinks Bunting.
“Earl, get that ramp down and get your ass out with the Dragon, get up there!” he screams to the mounted Dragon team, ducking back down into the cargo compartment.  “Evans, get posted somewhere on this ridge and the Chucks going!” he continues, calmer now, to the attached FO.

The BMPs were only 600 meters or so away now. The vagaries of the terrain were making themselves felt. BMPs were flitting in and out of sight, and the TOWs continued to have trouble engaging, only managing to pick off the occasional BMP.
SPC Earl, the platoon’s Dragon gunner, calmly sets up on a bit of the ridge, determined to cover the short front of the Platoon’s BP. He ignores the artillery, as best he can, and adopts the awkward cross-legged firing position, waiting for the first enemy to pop up over the plateau. A pair of BMPs shortly obliges him, even halting momentarily, to his delight. One is shortly burning. The TOWs catch a lucky break soon afterwards and tally two more BMPs.

In a furious five minutes, Bunting’s small force and air cover appeared to have mauled an enemy company. There was no time to rest on their laurels, however. Another platoon of BMPs, seeing the carnage to their front, smartly pull to their left, disgorging dismounts and creating smoke, and then surge past Bunting’s right flank, towards Point 199.1. Through gaps in the smoke, Bunting is able to track the line of enemy dismounts, and he spots in the distance even more BMPs – the enemy’s main security element?
The Cobras have ceased fire, displacing so as to avoid enemy anti-air fire. A wise move, to be sure, but a poorly timed one from Bunting’s perspective. He has no way of raising them quickly again, lacking a direct communications line to them. It was entirely his fight now.  
Movement is key to any defence, but especially a hasty one. The TOWs were ordered to displace to cover the burgeoning threat on the right flank, but this takes them dangerously close to the enemy artillery fire. The TOW crews find themselves constantly ducking back down to avoid shrapnel.

Nevertheless, they can re-engage, picking off a few of the flankers. 

Then, out of the smoke - and through its own artillery - surges a single enemy BMP. Bunting, too focused on the immediate fight, had never strictly given orders to his squads to dismount in the reverse slope. Luckily, his experienced NCOs read in between the lines and dismounted on their own initiative and had liberally handed-out LAWs to their men whilst doing so. The BMP is engaged effectively by these disposable rockets and is swiftly knocked out.

 
***
This is a beefy chapter, and I don't want to bore you to death...bite sized chunks. To be continued (as for the Normandy DAR, the backlog of photos do was larger than thought, apologies). 

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Boeing Yard, Fort Irwin, California
CPT Wren could feel a very strong headache coming on. It wasn’t the unbearable, searingly-dry heat, (well, it was the heat in part) so much as it was the logistical nightmare his company, and his Battalion Taskforce writ-large, had been dumped into. They had just arrived at the Boeing yard, serving as an initial assembly and equipment collection point for their rotation at the National Training Centre. The officers and senior NCOs were in absolute, collective shock at what greeted them. They had left most of their equipment behind at Ft. Stewart, with the promise that they would be provided with well-maintained, pre-positioned gear on arrival at Ft. Irwin.
The sight of the Battalion XO standing amidst the metaphorical wreckage, hands on hips, with an evil countenance on his face revealed how stretched the truth of that promise had been. If looks could kill, the MAJ would’ve struck down every civilian contractor in the yard by now. The displeasure radiating out of the Battalion XO was echoed by the companies’ XOs. Wren’s second in command, 1 LT Booth, looked like he was contemplating homicide whilst talking with the civilian contractors mounting MILEs gear to the Company’s M150 tank destroyers.
They had left behind relatively cutting-edge equipment, which they had left in top shape, back at their home posting. What greeted them were older models of M60 tanks and TOW launchers, lacking the excellent thermal sights they had come to rely on. The TF’s sister battalion that had just come back from rotation had never warned them about this. They had been put through the wringer and had warned his unit that the infamous OPFOR didn’t play by the rules.
Looking over at the rundown, dated equipment in poor repair, Wren couldn't help but feel that this was part of an elaborate plot to put them off balance before the rotation even began...
Chapter 1.1: The Hasty Attack
 
Near Brown Pass, National Training Centre, Fort Irwin.
The operations group had gathered around a sand table, essentially a scaled-down presentation of local terrain, to plan how they would kick off the mock war for the barren, craggy desert. Wren could feel the sun beating down on his exposed neck as he looked down. He had wisely kept his steel helmet off for the briefing, preferring a patrol cap. It offered some slight relief to the sensation that he was in an oven, and that he particularly was being burned in the pan.
The immediate mission was straightforward, in principle. Brigade had informed them that the lead elements of an enemy Motor Rifle Regiment (MRR) had entered the area of operations and was suspected to be heading towards one of several passages through the corridor. The enemy’s general intent was not difficult to divine: secure one of these features and allow the regiment to debouch onto the desert and deploy for an attack. The TF was to establish contact with the enemy’s forward elements, fix them and, if possible, destroy them. Follow up operations would then commence against the main body of the MRR.  
These first fights would devolve to the companies. The NTC was intended to train the army to fight a step down, that is, a company was expected to go toe-to-toe with an OPFOR battalion, and a battalion with a regiment. It was a tough ask. It put a lot of pressure on guys like Wren, but it also forged these junior leaders into the backbone of America’s army.
The NTC’s entire concept was one big, tough, ask. It had thus far put units, sometimes inadequately trained, always under-equipped, against a dedicated opposing force, or OPFOR. The US Army had played around with the idea of an opposing force before. What had resulted was a hokey B-movie routine simply called the “Aggressors.” They had no foundation in reality, no equipment that bore any relation to something in service, and failed completely to reflect any one of the many likely enemies the United States would face. The Aggressors, like the men who were tasked to portray them, had nothing worth fighting for. Units that rotated in to display them liked getting killed early and often, so they could get a hot meal at the mock casualty clearing stations. It was schlock, and the army had known it.
Fort Irwin, it’s dedicated OPFOR, and the MILEs system (think one giant game of angry laser tag) had changed all that.

This OPFOR had one task: play the Soviets better than the Soviets themselves, and brutalize their enemy whilst doing so. The fact the OPFOR was also expected to meet training standards as a US unit made it a nightmare opponent: a ruthlessly competent enemy that knew your playbook back-to-front.  The first bunch of battalions that had rotated through the NTC had come away shocked, and not infrequently in tatters. Wren’s TF had the advantage of learning from these initial rotations. Two TFs from sister brigades in their division had already gotten their NTC-issued hidings and had diligently and openly disseminated their experiences. They were, theoretically, the best prepared unit yet to come prepared for the fight.
This was their first opportunity to prove that. The Battalion S-2, a highly competent officer with a Master’s in psychology, had put his money down on the idea that the enemy’s lead elements would head for Brown pass. Wren’s area of responsibility. Considering this, the TF Commander had indicated he was willing to throw significant weight behind his company team. Combat aviation, and armour retained under task force control for support of his team, if need be. There were two courses of action: let the lead MRB come through the pass and hit them hard in the bottleneck or push through and find them in the open. The resources his CO was willing to allocate would change depending on the decision, but he trusted his CPT enough to reach one on his own and held his peace as to which he would have preferred.
Wren thought for a moment…Allowing the enemy to come through the pass was the “textbook” solution. It was canalizing terrain and would allow him to get the most out of his company team. It would be a mainly defensive operation, greatly aiding his chances of avoiding heavy losses. Thing is, textbook was obvious. The textbook made for poor reading in this situation, thought Wren. The first option ceded initiative to an OPFOR he knew was lean and mean on the offensive, especially one going to plan. He interrupted his thoughts with a question:
“Are you able to allocate me any of the scouts?” he asked his CO.
“No can do. We need them to tie into the armour battalion TF operating in the Southern Corridor, they can’t put dismounts in those hills as readily as we can.”
If he fought in Brown Pass himself, he would need to seriously contest the high valley mesas, or else the OPFOR would get observers up there and make any type of hasty defence untenable due to artillery fire. He wanted scouts for that, rather than have to put too much load on dismounted foot patrols taken from his platoon. The CO’s answer settled the dilemma. Wren reached over and pushed the little blue block representing his company team through the pass on the sand table.

He could see in his mind, the actual terrain leaping up around him. Wren had always had an eye for terrain, and he knew he could make the most of it here. The “open” ground north of Brown Pass was anything but. It was a series of plateaus, a giant natural staircase, that provided good cover to all but the tallest of vehicles and would allow a commander (on either side) to switch from a long-range engagement to a close-in one at a moment’s notice. The exit of the pass also had a craggy pair of mountains, impassable to vehicles, but perfect for dismounts. Pushing through would make that terrain all his. He intended to use it to its fullest effect.

Preparing for tomorrow’s operations meant it was going to be a long night. Wren, his hard-pressed XO and the platoon leaders had a lot of work to do to make the plan a reality. Wren also had to find the TACP, frustratingly absent at the briefing, and try to integrate the combat aviation into the plan, as he wouldn’t be able to have it “on call” and flexible once the rounds were flying back and forth.
***
16th October, 0900 Hours

They were through Brown Pass, without any enemy air interdiction. At least, 1st Platoon was through. So narrow was the defile, so real the threat of OPFOR air attack, that the Company team was deliberately strung out. This meant that, for 2LT Bunting’s forward group, if there was a fight, it would be his alone for some measure of time. His job was to fix the enemy for the rest of the Company team to manoeuvre aggressively. It was an important, high-risk task and a sign of the trust Wren put in his senior platoon leader. With Bunting’s platoon was the two M150 TOW vehicles, on loan from 1LT Benner’s platoon. The group was moving in staggered column, along a sandy trail, towards a low ridge that denoted the northern mouth of Brown Pass.
Bunting, riding in the lead M113 with a Dragon team and the assigned forward observer, looked over his shoulder. A pair of Cobras was providing intimate support and were hovering just behind Hill 165.5. Suddenly, one of the Cobras raised itself up a bit more and fired off a TOW missile with a hiss and a pop. Contact?

Contact! Urging his track forward, his driver cautiously nosed the M113 in fits and starts up the ridge. Calling a halt, he could see high, hanging dust clouds in the vicinity of PL “Yazoo”, one of several reporting lines to help the TOC track the advance of both B Company and the OPFOR. It quickly became apparent that multiple enemy BMPs were moving fast towards the mouth of the pass. More than he could handle in an open fight. Bunting reacted fast, and with clear-headedness. They had expected this. The Cobras were making the enemy squirm and push with haste, that could play to his advantage. The little bowl his group was in was excellent defensive terrain from which he could pin the enemy. Signalling over the platoon radio, as well as with his hands from the cargo hatch, he ordered his squad tracks into an umbrella-shaped defence.

The flying column cover being provided by the Cobras was showing its worth. Behind excellent positions, the Cobras took turns launching TOWs, which raced at knee-height over the desert to slam into BMPs’ flanks. Wren, hearing Bunting’s contact report, got the word back to TOC quickly. The planned F-16 strike went in 5 minutes after the initial contact report, and they laid their clusters in, presumably with devastating effect.


The OPFOR recon leader stayed calm. He must have known his best bet now was to get forward and to grab the enemy by the belt. The BMPs surged forward. They would be in Bunting’s perimeter within minutes if the Americans didn’t react strongly.

The TOWs weighed in, however, at Bunting’s command. They fired from excellent hull down positions along the low ridge he established his fighting position from. To Bunting’s chagrin, their first few shots are wildly off target. The TOW crews were inexperienced and clearly a bit awe-struck at the sight of a company of BMPs ruthlessly pushing through air attack. It takes two engagements to finally find their nerve – and their targets. A BMP burns.

Then the enemy weighs in with their own fire support. A thunderous crush of artillery impacts just to the left of Bunting’s track. He buttons up to avoid the angry, buzzing shards of shrapnel. The OPFOR artillery is off target but still denies a large part of this excellent battle position to him. More alarmingly, it kicks up the high, hanging dust Bunting has already learned defines the NTC’s desert terrain. Soon his attached TOWs are telling them they can no longer actively engage threats through the dust. ****, this is going to get close and messy, thinks Bunting.
“Earl, get that ramp down and get your ass out with the Dragon, get up there!” he screams to the mounted Dragon team, ducking back down into the cargo compartment.  “Evans, get posted somewhere on this ridge and the Chucks going!” he continues, calmer now, to the attached FO.

The BMPs were only 600 meters or so away now. The vagaries of the terrain were making themselves felt. BMPs were flitting in and out of sight, and the TOWs continued to have trouble engaging, only managing to pick off the occasional BMP.
SPC Earl, the platoon’s Dragon gunner, calmly sets up on a bit of the ridge, determined to cover the short front of the Platoon’s BP. He ignores the artillery, as best he can, and adopts the awkward cross-legged firing position, waiting for the first enemy to pop up over the plateau. A pair of BMPs shortly obliges him, even halting momentarily, to his delight. One is shortly burning. The TOWs catch a lucky break soon afterwards and tally two more BMPs.

In a furious five minutes, Bunting’s small force and air cover appeared to have mauled an enemy company. There was no time to rest on their laurels, however. Another platoon of BMPs, seeing the carnage to their front, smartly pull to their left, disgorging dismounts and creating smoke, and then surge past Bunting’s right flank, towards Point 199.1. Through gaps in the smoke, Bunting is able to track the line of enemy dismounts, and he spots in the distance even more BMPs – the enemy’s main security element?
The Cobras have ceased fire, displacing so as to avoid enemy anti-air fire. A wise move, to be sure, but a poorly timed one from Bunting’s perspective. He has no way of raising them quickly again, lacking a direct communications line to them. It was entirely his fight now.  
Movement is key to any defence, but especially a hasty one. The TOWs were ordered to displace to cover the burgeoning threat on the right flank, but this takes them dangerously close to the enemy artillery fire. The TOW crews find themselves constantly ducking back down to avoid shrapnel.

Nevertheless, they can re-engage, picking off a few of the flankers. 

Then, out of the smoke - and through its own artillery - surges a single enemy BMP. Bunting, too focused on the immediate fight, had never strictly given orders to his squads to dismount in the reverse slope. Luckily, his experienced NCOs read in between the lines and dismounted on their own initiative and had liberally handed-out LAWs to their men whilst doing so. The BMP is engaged effectively by these disposable rockets and is swiftly knocked out.

 
***
This is a beefy chapter, and I don't want to bore you to death...bite sized chunks. To be continued (as for the Normandy DAR, the backlog of photos do was larger than thought, apologies). 

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Thank you, truly. I enjoy the NTC, so much more so when compared directly with the Soviet training scenarios. Which leads me to address this: 
 

Yep, and it clearly accomplishes its goal and it's useful to do this. In reality too, but only to a degree. It's a good first port of call but without more organic training scenarios (like the NTC) it leaves an individual with a superficial understanding. Which you will see when we get to the Valley of Ashes part of this, but you already know how that one ends. 
In the game the NTC gets people used to three things very quickly: good enemy soft stats, functional technological parity and taking losses. People either choose to accept those realities going into the title, or put it down and go back to Shock Force 2.