had happened and the approximate locations of the Iranian positions. Because only two missiles were fired from the same general area and only after a considerable interval, he was convinced there was only one antitank-guided-missile launcher. At least, that was all he could be sure of. All the machinegun fire had come from the area to either side of where the trail should have been when the lead platoon was hit. As best he could determine, there was no more than a single company dug in across the road and supported by a single antitank-guided-missile launcher. He called to his other scout cars for reports. What their commanders told him corroborated what Kurpov had already determined.
Only when he was sure he had as clear a picture as he was going to have did he call his company commander to report.
The company commander received the report in silence. When Kurpov was done, the commander asked a few short questions, which Kurpov answered with a simple yes or no. Satisfied, the company commander instructed him to continue to observe while he in turn reported Kurpov’s information to the commander of the rifle battalion that was following.
As Kurpov waited for new orders, he took off his helmet and leaned against the open hatch, thinking about the fight. With a dirty rag he wiped the sweat from his face. His hand still quivered from the adrenaline in his system.
Five vehicles and their crews had been destroyed finding out information that took less than thirty seconds to report. And were it not for a simple decision by the company commander that the other platoon was to lead, it would have been Kurpov’s platoon that paid for that information. A decision that had been so easy for the commander to make had such terrible consequences for the people who had to execute it.
A radio call from the company commander brought Kurpov’s thoughts back to the present. He got his helmet on in time to hear that the rifle battalion was deploying and moving forward to assault the Iranian position. From behind, Kurpov could already hear the rumble of the rifle battalion as it began to advance. His job for that night was over. It was now up to others to flush out the enemy. There would be no need for Kurpov to guide the advancing elements of the rifle battalion forward toward the enemy’s positions; the burning BRDMs proved to be good markers.
Ras Banas, Egypt 0015 Hours, 30 May (2215 Hours, 29 May, GMT ) The progress of the attacking platoon was painfully slow. From his position with the defending platoon, Captain John Evans could see every move that they made. The three-quarters moon and the exposed route the 2nd Platoon’s platoon leader had selected made it almost impossible to miss them. For the last hour Evans had been tracking their progress with nothing more than ordinary daylight binoculars. Impatiently he watched as the platoon first moved out of a wadi and arranged themselves in a tight formation. Next he watched as they marched across the open desert and away from the rocky knoll that was their objective and where the defending platoon waited. It took over forty minutes for them to figure out their error and another ten to sort out their true objective.
Evans wanted so badly to fire a mortar or something at them, anything.
People that stupid needed a shot in the head. But he had nothing. All he could do was sit and watch them mess all over themselves in the open.
The platoon leader defending the knoll was less patient. After seeing the troubles 2nd Platoon was having, he decided to add to them. He sent one of his squads down and around the rear of the attacking platoon. The idea was to have that squad trail the 2nd Platoon closely. When, and if, the 2nd
Platoon finally began its attack, the trailing squad would strike from behind. Stripping away one third of his force was a gamble, but the performance of the attacker up to that point made the risk seem reasonable.
The soldiers on the knoll had a difficult time staying
Only when he was sure he had as clear a picture as he was going to have did he call his company commander to report.
The company commander received the report in silence. When Kurpov was done, the commander asked a few short questions, which Kurpov answered with a simple yes or no. Satisfied, the company commander instructed him to continue to observe while he in turn reported Kurpov’s information to the commander of the rifle battalion that was following.
As Kurpov waited for new orders, he took off his helmet and leaned against the open hatch, thinking about the fight. With a dirty rag he wiped the sweat from his face. His hand still quivered from the adrenaline in his system.
Five vehicles and their crews had been destroyed finding out information that took less than thirty seconds to report. And were it not for a simple decision by the company commander that the other platoon was to lead, it would have been Kurpov’s platoon that paid for that information. A decision that had been so easy for the commander to make had such terrible consequences for the people who had to execute it.
A radio call from the company commander brought Kurpov’s thoughts back to the present. He got his helmet on in time to hear that the rifle battalion was deploying and moving forward to assault the Iranian position. From behind, Kurpov could already hear the rumble of the rifle battalion as it began to advance. His job for that night was over. It was now up to others to flush out the enemy. There would be no need for Kurpov to guide the advancing elements of the rifle battalion forward toward the enemy’s positions; the burning BRDMs proved to be good markers.
Ras Banas, Egypt 0015 Hours, 30 May (2215 Hours, 29 May, GMT ) The progress of the attacking platoon was painfully slow. From his position with the defending platoon, Captain John Evans could see every move that they made. The three-quarters moon and the exposed route the 2nd Platoon’s platoon leader had selected made it almost impossible to miss them. For the last hour Evans had been tracking their progress with nothing more than ordinary daylight binoculars. Impatiently he watched as the platoon first moved out of a wadi and arranged themselves in a tight formation. Next he watched as they marched across the open desert and away from the rocky knoll that was their objective and where the defending platoon waited. It took over forty minutes for them to figure out their error and another ten to sort out their true objective.
Evans wanted so badly to fire a mortar or something at them, anything.
People that stupid needed a shot in the head. But he had nothing. All he could do was sit and watch them mess all over themselves in the open.
The platoon leader defending the knoll was less patient. After seeing the troubles 2nd Platoon was having, he decided to add to them. He sent one of his squads down and around the rear of the attacking platoon. The idea was to have that squad trail the 2nd Platoon closely. When, and if, the 2nd
Platoon finally began its attack, the trailing squad would strike from behind. Stripping away one third of his force was a gamble, but the performance of the attacker up to that point made the risk seem reasonable.
The soldiers on the knoll had a difficult time staying
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