Chapter Four July 15, 2000 1415 Hours Lask, Poland
It'd been a hard night; the 256th had begun to pull back as they were struck in the south flank by an unknown element of truly mechanized armored forces. The Americans had taken their toll, inflicting moderate casualties as they pulled back. Archer learned his counterpart's name was Sergeant Grant, not that it mattered, and his squad had died holding the line, buying time for the rest of his platoon and Archer's section to escape. The Soviets didn't want to chase them after too long, fearing they would take heavy vehicle losses as they advanced. Not really a worthwhile trade, vehicles for depleting the Americans of their anti-tank missiles. The 256th would hold here at Lask while 4-12 rode back to Sieradz to ensure there was a bridge over the Warta when the rest of the brigade arrived. Fuel was in short supply and Archer made sure to hoard some extra fuel and stay with the rest of the brigade's vehicles. At least they had a section of M1s with them. Though Archer and Ayers had only two TOW missiles between the both of them. Some resupply Archer thought to himself. It would only be a matter of time until the Soviets hit, and it wouldn't be pretty...
July 16, 2000 0900 Hours Lask, Poland
Archer was right, a column of vehicles hit the northeastern flank and Archer's area had been probed twice. They knew an attack was coming. Intelligence admitted a fault, either they had guessed wrong at the beginning (very likely), or the Soviets had moved units deep in the USSR forward to Poland (just as likely, probably a combination of both). Archer had his M3 parked on a corner street looking out into the area beyond; there wasn't much time, manpower, or equipment to dig in vehicles. The Abrams tanks were parked behind him at a crossroads, ready to be called out. Infantry was dug in on the outskirts of the town. Archer's plan was to simply have the infantry hold the enemy while he and the M1s pulled out and caught the enemy in an exposed flank. Then retreat into the town and ambush them as they came through. It would be a lot of shooting and running. If only the gas would last, certainly not for the M1s they drank the stuff like water. Archer heard the wail and impact of incoming artillery rounds. The fourth today, the Soviets had a few batteries of artillery, of that Archer was sure. But most of the shells fell on the streets of Lask and not on his forces on the outskirts. The infantry prepared and stood to in their fighting holes. Vehicles started to round a forested hill, their only real avenue of approach. Archer was stunned for a moment; at least a company of tanks of all makes, BMPs and BTRs started to roll into view followed by cavalry coming out of the woods. Archer could see T-80 tanks in the mix, wearing reactive plating.
"Smith take a bead on one of those 72s." Archer switched channels, "Hammer get rolling." A minute later he could feel the rumble of the M1s' turbines over his idling engine.
"In range sir." Smith said coolly, her eye glued to the sight.
"Fire." A TOW missile streaked from the launcher and impacted a T-72 on the forward hull. The T-72 rolled to a stop and the crew bailed. A .50 chattered from the infantry line and cut them down. The tanks opened fire on the buildings on the outskirts, probably to flush Archer's vehicles out into the open. "Summers, relocate!" There was going to be no fixing or flanking occurring. The Soviets had brought too many men and equipment. Now it was a gritty delaying action, the kind where Soldiers were going to die. Iron Maiden lurched as Summers reversed it up the road they'd been on. A nearby roar signified Ayer's firing his one TOW. Archer rolled into a new position and Smith started bursting rounds at the enemy vehicles.
Ayers saw the M1s roll by and stop behind the infantry and engage the Soviet tanks at range, one of their few advantages. "Maiden we're running low on gas." a tank commander chimed over the radio. They opened up at a decent range and the two "sabot" rounds knocked a T-80 out of commission. "Fire!" Ayers yelled and his TOW streaked out and impacted the mantle of a T-72. "Relocate!"
25mm rounds impacted a BTR and punched holes in it, the other troop carriers disgorged their infantry as the cavalry dismounted and turned their shaken horses to shaky handlers. RPGs began to answer the LAWs and Dragons fired by the Americans. The M1s were making a dent in the enemy forces: a T-72 and another T-80 were knocked out, but Archer knew they were running low on rounds. Mortar rounds began to fall on the American infantry positions. A direct hit destroyed the M2 emplacement and the .50 and its crew were thrown about the sandbags. Cannon rounds began to ricochet and ring off of the M1s' hull plating. One stopped firing. The other destroyed a T-72. "Maiden my El-Tee is down. I've got a few rounds left."
"Hold, we may have them." Archer answered. He saw another set of dust clouds coming around the corner of the hill. Not more, it can't be. He thought. "Ammo?" he snapped.
"Around thirty rounds sir." Smith replied. The gun chattered again.
Ayers reached his new position the same time a 125mm round did. It struck the Bradley's left track at an angle and exploded, shearing the tracks off, "Reverse! Bastards got us in his sights!" The Bradley reversed and bit into its track and rotated slowly.
"Tracks are out Sarge!" Contreras voiced, Ayers all ready knew.
"BAIL OUT!" he screamed, he popped his hatch and pulled himself out. He helped Sergeant Hiram out of her hatch when an explosion threw them both through the air and onto the ground.
"What the hell?" Lieutenant Archer asked as a large explosion rocked his vehicle, "Maiden 2, Maiden 2 come in!" he demanded over the radio.
Sergeant Ayers rolled over and found Sergeant Hiram nearby. He rolled her over and saw blood trickling from her mouth, her eyes glazed over. Her legs were a mess, smoke coming from the smoldering coveralls. He felt for a pulse and found one, it was weak but there. A hand grabbed his shoulder. "Let’s go Sarge! WE gotta get outta here!" Fillmore cried.
"Help me with her!" he said, "What about Contreras and Stone?" he added as a quick afterthought.
"Gone Sarge!"
The approaching vehicles began to join the battle: A platoon of T-64s and more BTRs. The enemy infantry was trying to flank the American positions which had fought hard despite their losses. They were pinned and more mortar rounds fell on top of them. The remaining M1 blew the turret off of a closing T-72 and began chattering its coaxial machinegun at the enemy infantry; cutting down six before three round impacts left the tank dead. The enemy was going to take this sector too. Archer realized that this was it. They would have to run or die with no ammo. His radio answered for him, "All units, the enemy has overran the northwestern sectors, all units will make an orderly withdrawal towards Sieradz, begin to-" the radio paused for a moment "We're being overrun, get out! Ge-" and it went silent. Brigade HQ was overrun; Archer's men were defending this village for no reason.
"Big Dog get your boys outta there! Mount 'em up we're leaving!" he called on the radio. He doubted the infantry could get out, "Carpenter open the ramp!" He began to call for artillery smoke and began to plot coordinates for the smoke rounds when Smith cried out,
"Sir that’s it! The infantry is overrun, we gotta get out! I'm low on 7.62!"
"Shit, we need to leave! Close the ramp." The M3 lurched and began to travel down the road when artillery rounds impacted the buildings behind them. Most likely the Soviets were capitalizing on their win and making sure no US units would be able to escape. They headed west when a BMP pulled into the intersection in front of them.
"Reverse!" It fired and the 30mm round glanced off of the turret. The ringing nearly deafened the whole crew. The M3 reversed and turned into a side street. As they turned back west a T-64 fired from behind and hit buildings on the other end of the street. "Get us out of here!" Archer cried.
"Where sir?" Summers yelled back.
"For shit's sake through a damn house!"
"Bu-"
"Just fuckin' do it!" The M3 plowed full speed into a brick house as another shell screamed by, narrowly missing them. The M3 emerged from the house into a field on the edge of the town. "Punch it." The M3 took of as fast as Summers could push it, passing other American vehicles in flight, mostly Humvees while some unlucky men could be seen streaming into the woods.
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