The Iron Bear
January 22, 1987
Near the Romny-Yuktobania Border
Captain Gavriil Tatravich came to attention with the other officers of the 8th Guards Regiment's 511th Tank Battalion as Lieutenant Colonel Borodine walked to the front. The man with a sunken face and moustache that seemed too wide for his head returned the salutes of his men.
"Be seated, Comrades, we have much to discuss this morning."
The boyish-faced Captain sat down and watched his commanding officer as he raised a polished stick. Gavriil raised his hands to rub them together as he began.
"Good morning everyone, today in the face of failed negotiations with the Democratic Republic of Romny, we have been ordered to take the disputed region of Dola by force. We will be moving in close conjunction with the launch of the air campaign, which started earlier this night, and I have been authorized by our KGB informants to announce that Spetsnaz teams have been quietly active in the region, preparing the way for us and our Frontal Aviation Comrades. Specifically, they have assured me we will be given air support and that the heaviest Romn air defenses will be down. Expect MiG-27 and Su-25 aircraft to be readily available and attacking consistently as well as Mi-24s …however expect that the enemy will also have aircraft aloft. The Romny Air Force is not well equipped, but very large. Our ground-based defenses will do what they can to defeat what we expect to mostly be MiG-21s and Su-7s."
Attention was shifted to their specific enemies on the ground. Tanks couldn't destroy fighters except if they caught them on the ground.
"Our opponent is two battalions, one of motorized infantry, and one of armored forces. We expect to destroy their numerical superiority via shock effect and then a combination of maneuvering and training. A massive saturation bombardment will occur at dawn by our supporting Grad and Akatsiya batteries, followed by a number of smoke rounds. We will push into the smoke to cross the Noboli River, and then attack the nearest enemy position, which is about a mile beyond that along a low slope. We can expect to have our first support here, as the motorized infantry, border guards really, are believed to have concrete emplacements housing anti-tank missiles." The Colonel pointed out.
His pointer went to a field beyond, then up to the fork that marked the beginning of the Noboli and Gretvich rivers. A projector next to the map showed some aerial recon photos with annotations on a screen to highlight details.
"The infantry's main objective will be the bridges over the Gretivich, since the banks in the area are much steeper. We will push across the bridges with some of our infantry to establish forward positions across the area. We hope to meet the heaviest part of the armored forces near the tree groves here and hold them so they cannot get across the bridges or attack them directly. Expect to face a full battalion of T-64B main battle tanks with crews who know how to use the machine. These won't be the T-62Ms the majority of their army has." He iterated.
Gavriil noted the terrain for the positions where they would fan out. More fields, meaning the Yuktobanians would be the ones exposed to attacks from the Romns, though many of the groves were depleted with winter well in control. The low profile of the T-80 might also help…He noted it all and kept in mind he would want to have his tanks spread out enough to avoid enemy fire claiming multiple tanks in one shot.
"From these positions we will hold until we can strengthen the line and push on towards the car factories at Furabontesk. We can expect to be relieved in a few hours by more forces from the regiment. At that time we can properly evacuate casualties when engineer and medevac units come forward. The seriously injured can be taken away on Mi-8s. Are there any questions as to our overall mission?" He went on.
With a few small inquires to cover, there was some time for Gavriil to study his maps before they got to the specifics of the companies' jobs. Gavrill and his company would be moving down the left bridge towards the line, dubbed "Phase Line Zvezda". It was a precarious position in which they had the steep banks of the Gretivich to their backs and the enemy before them. He planned to be as far forward as he could so that they would have some room to retreat, and also began formulating possible retreat options. Contrary to the ideas and propaganda of Osea and its puppets, the Yuktobanians knew retreat; they just did not embrace it. Should he have to Gavriil would pull back so that men could be saved and used effectively in the future, but he had to be smart. The dismounted infantry and BMPs would help, as would the promise of constant air support. With his specific mission laid out, the young man and the rest of his peers were let go.
Outside the heated tent the cold didn't hesitate to stab at the men. Gavriil could at least take some comfort in the fact that he would be given a ride aboard a jeep back to his tanks. Said vehicle was waiting already; the brown-haired man was expected to brief his platoon commanders, and then ensure he was fit as a commander to take them into battle. All he really needed was some food, and maybe to write a letter or two home. With several other men in it, the UAZ bounded off to take them to their vehicles. Gavriil looked towards Captain Nikolai Sarov.
"I cannot believe we have to invade a country that's our ally. Disrespectful and ungrateful, don't they remember we help build their country?" Sarov asked aloud.
"Even best friends can have arguments, Toravish Nikolai." Gavriil reasoned.
"The Romns shouldn't be so sure of themselves. We will reach their capital in days." The redhead replied. His fellow soldier was always interested how he was so able to talk in a way that would cause political officers to both tense and smile.
"Those T-64s may make them feel sure of themselves. I sure hope your tanks and Toravisch Grigori's can hold them." Nikolai added.
"Our Frontal Aviation Comrades will be in our debt after today." Grigori added.
Gavriil tried to rest the back of his head against the window, but it was too cold. He pulled away and adjusted his winter cap. The Yuktobanians seemed to enjoy fighting wars when the world was getting colder, and it had become a joke (whenever political officers weren't nearby) that the winter made them stronger. This impending war was no different; he longed for Taisia's warmth instead…
Photographers from TAYS, the state news agency, was going through the platoons for photos, both of the soldiers at work and for smiling soldiers to show the people at home they were full of youth and morale. Gavriil had his three platoons of T-80Us placed in a semi-circle along the riverbank, with his T-80UK and company command in the trees towards the back. The 3rd and 4th Companies flanked him, with three companies of Motorized Riflemen in BMP-2 Infantry Fighting Vehicles. One of the journalists had come across his tank as he was sitting near its exhaust, using the residual heat from the last crank-up to warm himself some more. He looked up as the man photographed him looking at maps with a flashlight, wanting to save his the batteries of his PNV-57s for when they began the attack.
"Pardon me, Comrade Captain, but your current state seemed fitting to convey how our brave armed forces can deal with even this weather." The man said, hard to see in the dark.
"Save your film for the battle, Comrade." He grunted back.
The Captain looked up again as he heard the sounds of jets overhead. Earlier in the night, just after the platoon leaders had started to get their briefs, there'd been an air raid. Garviil's position had been lightly attacked, but no major damage had been dealt outside of some scratched vehicles and irritated troops. They were still plenty able to carry out their mission. The Captain looked up as the snowfall seemed to be steadying out. It was visible, but far from a storm or blizzard. He turned to get back onto the top of his T-80, and then inside it. He kept low in the event the Romns had snipers watching from across the river. Inside the tank it wasn't very warm, but it was better than being snowed on. His driver was on watch at the moment, meaning his gunner was asleep. Gavriil keyed his microphone.
"Kedlavich." He said.
"Yes, Comrade Captain?" The Efreitor replied quickly.
"I am going to sleep so I can be alert as possible when my shift comes. Wake me if anything important comes up." He instructed.
"Understood, Comrade Captain!" the excitable young man said. Gavriil smiled to himself and then slipped into the best slumber one could get in the commander's seat of a T-80.
The hours passed, and the front remained mostly quiet. The major war right now was that between the Yuktobanian Military Air Forces (VVS) and the Romny Peoples Air Defense (RALD). Situated behind the tanks and IFVs, 2K12 Kub (SA-6 Gainful) batteries backed up by ZSU-23-4 AA guns waited and occasionally picked off enemy jets that wanted to come and attack the waiting assault force. Around four that morning, Gavriil was finally awoken in preparation for the attack. He adjusted himself in the seat and peered out his cupola's periscopes before opening the hatch. The snow had long stopped, leaving the already white ground with a fresh thin layer of powder. The T-80's green and white camo was now whiter. He affixed his night vision goggles to his helmet and stared across the river; nothing to see at first, and nothing after watching for a moment.
The Captain slid back into his tank and closed the hatch. He checked his watch, noting the time. It was three fifty seven; the artillery bombardment was due to start in a few moments. Coincidentally, several miles away from the forward positions, several batteries of BM-21B rocket launchers and SO-152M self-propelled howitzers had finished zeroing their targets. Each battery was under the thumb of a single man with a red flag, who was keeping an eye on a watch. Artillerymen, by nature, relied on precision in all forms. Timing, coordinates, and the like made for the best results. When four AM came, the men threw down red flags and shouted "fire" in Yuktobanian. The 152s made brief reports as they fired their shells at the Romns' forward positions. The guns, as per planning, would fire four rounds each of High Explosives (HE), and then switch to their secondary coordinates and fire smoke. The rockets made a far louder sound, erupting from their tubes like thunder. The combined noise of entire batteries launching brought the crescendo to deafening levels, but even the older men in the units were hard pressed not to join their young compatriots in enjoying the beauty of rocket artillery.
Kedlavich pointed out the sounds of shelling as they started. He looked in the direction which the young sergeant sat and then listened. Sure enough he heard the distinct whistle of shells and the hiss of rockets. For a second he felt sorrow for the Romns at the incoming terrors. In the meantime he switched his microphone to the company channel.
"Gordost 2 Actual to all elements, report in." He radioed.
"Lev 1 reporting." 1st platoon's commander replied.
"Pantera 1, reporting in." 2nd platoon's leader radioed.
"Tigr 1 is reporting in." 3rd platoon's head said.
"All Gordost elements, start tanks and prepare to advance on Romny defensive positions, understand?" Gavriil said. They all replied obediently.
"For the glory of our motherland." Gavriil added, know well the political officer would be listening to everything they said. He switched to internal communications.
"Comrade Kedlavich! Start the engine! Comrade Daskal, ready the main gun and image intensifier!" The man barked.
The tank's gas turbine engine rumbled to life and Gavriil checked his station's features, namely his feed for the image intensifier, the navigation equipment, and the radios. His ears listened closely as the platoons readied for the attack, particularly to see if anyone had aby problems with their tanks. He waited until the clock struck 4:10 AM. A switch to the battalion net revealed the message he'd been awaiting.
"All battalion elements, Zvezda, Zvezda. For our great motherland." Borodine radioed.
"Gordost 2 Actual to all elements, advance! Wedge formation! Engage any enemies you encounter! Keep a line open to the fire support net, we must not hesitate to use our airborne Comrades!" Gavriil radioed after switching channels again.
The large, squat main battle tank rolled forward from its position on the Captain's command, moving at a speed chosen to allow for the gunner to hit targets accurately and for the beast to remain a hard target. Gavriil felt the front drop as they went down the slope to cross the shallow part of the river. The T-80 rolled through the shallow, icy water without trouble and onto the far bank. The terrain's slope upwards was very gradual; through the smoke Gavriil could see smoke from the impacts of the shells and rockets. He searched for any of the bunkers that they'd been told about as his company's tanks rolled out ahead of him. Towards the top he noted the flashes of guns.
"Gordost 2 Actual here, I need a report. Have we made contact?" He asked.
"This is Tigr 1-3; we have made contact with enemy positions. Scattered resistance; they appear to have been broken by the artillery." Third Platoon reported.
Gavriil acknowledged the report and kept a lookout for anything of interest as the tank went up a steep piece of terrain. Dasakal kept the gun depressed as far down as he could towards the inevitable threats. Finally a man-made structure was spotted on the image intensifier, and Daskal identified it was a small bunker.
"Engage!"
"Firing!"
The 125mm smoothbore cannon recoiled as it sent a High Explosive, Fragmentation (HE-F) round into the position. Kedlavich kept moving on towards the position, intent on crushing it with one of the treads should someone survive the explosion.
"Another bunker, fifteen degrees to our right!" Gavriil shouted as they rolled on.
The gunner rotated the turret and fired a second round at the position. Thanks to the optics in the T-80, the men watched as the 9K115 Metis launcher was tossed up in the ball of dust. Otherwise resistance was light thanks to the one-two punch of artillery and heavy armor. The tanks reached the top of the hill, fanning out to make themselves harder targets to artillery or inevitable air attack.
"Contact front! Infantry fighting vehicles!" Kedlavich called.
Further back from the crest were several BMP-1 Infantry Fighting Vehicles, which Gavriil guessed were to try and slow the T-80s. They'd do little, if anything.
"BMP, two degrees to our left!" Daskal sounded.
"Engage with HE-F!" The Captain replied.
The T-80's turret moved slightly left, and seconds later the gun again rocked back. The BMP-1's poor armor stood no chance against the 125mm gun, and a brilliant flash lit up the night. It was only as it illuminated the other T-80s moving through the field that Gavriil realized that the Romns were INSIDE their formation. The BMP's bad armor had been made up for in part by its low profile, which in the tall, snow-covered grass, made it even harder to see.
"Gordost 2 Actual to all elements! Slow down! We're among Romn IFVs. I repeat, enemy IFVs in our formation!" He shouted.
The man could feel sweat on his brow and his jaw tightening. After a minute he calmed himself and remembered his armor training in the Jilachi Desert. Their 9M14 anti-tank missiles were too close to the Yuktobanians MBTs to be effective, which left them with their 76mm cannons and machine guns. Again, they were of little effect. Another BMP fired at his tank twice, the small cannon able to put out several rounds a minute. It took the last HE round in the autoloader in the front; flames spilled out the back. Now it was on to armor-piercing to deal with the T-64s.
"Gordost 2 Actual to Rys 3 Actual, we're preparing to attack by fire across the bridge." He radioed.
"Understood Gordost, we shall remain behind." The leader of the Motor Rifle Company they were escorting replied.
The bridge would be a very vulnerable place, so Gavriil had decided to keep spacing wide for its crossing. He ordered One of his platoons to the left of the structure, so they could support the other two platoons that would cross. Mines were always a problem, he remembered; the man keyed his microphone.
"This is Gordost, does anyone see any signs of traps on the bridge?" He asked.
"Negative, Comrade Captain, I can't see anything." One of the tanks radioed back. Gavriil frowned, and then looked at the bridge again. It was clear from what he could see.
"I shall lead us across, then. Lev, follow me quickly; a single tank would be hard-pressed to hold the other side." He decided.
"Uhm, Comrade Captain…" The political officer, one Senior Lieutenant Popov, began to interject.
"I would be a coward to send my men ahead, Comrade Popov. The Red Army does not accept cowards." Gavriil snapped.
Kedlavich aimed the T-80 for the entrance, moving a bit faster. For its size, the tank could really roll when it was given the power to. Gavriil felt the treads hit paved road as they got onto the bridge and moved forward. At the Captain's orders, the smoke grenades on either side of the tank were fired to give them some more cover.
"Enemy armor, front! I count two!" Kedlavich shouted as the machine got onto the open ground on the other side. He sounded like a boy about to see a naked female for the first time.
"Calm, Comrade Kedlavich! Daskal!" Gavriil shouted.
"Keep her steady…firing!" The gunner replied.
The T-80 moved to the left as its gun rocked. Gavriil felt his body tingling until the round impacted against the T-64. The gunner chambered a new round and fired again to secure the enemy tank's death. Its partner felt the wrath of the T-80s following their company commander. The first platoon across sped up and began to fan out. To his front, Gavriil saw woods well in the distance, towards the maximum range of their guns. He gave the order to move closer and decided the treeline would be bombed. As he started to make a call back for something to do the job, he heard the sound of someone firing their machine gun. As he was about to ask, the sound of impacts redirected his attention.
"Enemy aircraft!" Lev 1 called.
The tank vibrated as Romn aircraft, Su-7BMKs, made runs. Further back, however, they were already gaining the unwanted attention of frontline Kub batteries. The missiles' 1S91 radar painted the Su-7s as they ascended to try and come around for more attacks. Closer to the tanks, ZSU-23-4MZ Shilka mobile AA guns were already demonstrating why Kaluga forces had come to call the things "Sewing Machines" and why Osea and her allies hated the thing. The Romn pilots would quickly regret trying to attack, as they were fired on by guns and missiles. Either way they were out of Gavriil's hair, and he was able to call in some air support. Four Su-25 Grach strike aircraft were ordered in, each armed with FAB-500 bombs and S-24 rockets.
"Gordost 2 Actual, this is Gadyuka Leader, we will make two runs, one with each weapon. Please specify your target." A voice radioed.
"Gadyuka, we need you to attack the treeline o our front in order to deny the enemy proper cover." Gavriil replied.
"Understood, send back the information." The pilot replied.
As per the Yuktobanian system, the specific target was sent back to rear-echelon posts, who coordinated with ground-based radar systems to make sure the weapons would arrive right on target. Once the info was passed along, the Sukhois could attack. From his position, Gavriil saw shapes on the image intensifier. As he'd feared, they were T-64s of the Romny Peoples Land Forces (RPNS).
"Contact, enemy armor to our front. Engage immediately…Rys 3 Actual be advised, we've come into contact with enemy T-64s. Wait until we can establish a tighter perimeter for you to disembark."
As the BMP commander relayed they would support by using their own 9M113 Konkurs anti-tank missiles, Gavriil moved forward with two of his platoons flanking him. The last was deployed near the bridge to hold it. Gavriil got to work, ordering they fire on the first tank they saw while the Su-25s came to help. He and his own crew went to work as well as they slowed and began picking targets.
"Enemy tank sighted Daskal, five degrees right!"
"I have him, sir!"
"Fire!"
"Firing!"
Another round exited the barrel and struck and advancing T-64 in the left tread. Daskal worked the autoloader and gave the enemy tank a second. Gavriil ordered the platoons to start flanking the Romn tankers so as to quickly defeat them. Kedlavich moved left with several other T-80s while the commander and gunner kept the turret's front rotated at the formation of T-64s advancing from the woods. There was at least a company of the older tanks. The radio came to life, and the VVS pilots announced they were dropping their weapons. Two of the Graches shot over several hundred feet above, bombs in their wake. Gavriil ignored whatever affects they would have; he was too focused on the battle.
"Gadyuka, be advised, we are getting close to the enemy armored formation. Don't make any more runs unless cleared by us." Gavriil replied as he saw several Romn MBTs burning.
"Roger that Gordost, good luck."
As the Graches flew off, trying to avoid an Osa battery that'd managed to slip in at some point, Daskal zeroed and destroyed another T-64. How many was it so far? The Captain had lost count of their number of kills. Suddenly he felt an impact, directly against the tank, and then another. The tank stopped with a mechanical crunch of sorts. Gavriil threw up a hand to stop his face from connecting with his station's screens and the like, but it was just a little late. His nose began to ache immensely as he pulled back, and after a second he felt the flow of blood coming out of his nostrils.
"Report!" He shouted.
"Enemy tanks, two of them!" Daskal barked as he tried to get the gun on one of the targets.
Fortunately the T-80's situation was far from hopeless. The other platoons were still at near-full strength. Only one of the MBTs had to see Gavriil's plight to move into action. The sergeant commanding it beckoned another T-80 to his side to help. Gavriil keyed his mike.
"Kedlavich! Can we move?" He demanded. Nothing.
"Kedlavich, answer me!" The Captain bellowed.
"Comrade Captain, the Romns!" Daskal pointed out.
His image intensifier offline, the officer used one of his periscopes to see what exactly the gunner was on about. His saw, the inky dark, tanks reversing. They'd routed the bastards! He watched as his company kept up the fire, and Rys 3 advanced part of itself across the bridge as the radio indicated. As the fire died down, Gavriil pushed open his hatch and looked out as the other tanks pushed against the retreating Romns. He drew in a breath, tasting blood, and looked back as Yuktobanian Motor Riflemen were rushing across the bridge. He rested back and grabbed his NSV machine gun and began to move it towards the retreating Romns. They could come again at any moment …his mind told him this might be a ruse.
"Comrade, are you okay?!"
He looked down to see an infantryman, his squad moving around the tank. The man who'd called to Gavriil started to climb up to help him. He took out a field dressing.
"For your nose, Comrade Captain." He grunted.
Gavriil looked towards his tanks again, lit by the scant light of the early morning and the burning fires of the destroyed tanks. The squad took up positions near some fallen trees a little forward of the T-80 and helped the men in the turret out. After a few minutes of sitting next to his tank, Gavriil saw several MT-LBs coming forward. He guessed the Romn SAMs were still close. The man staggered up as one pulled up near his tank. Yuktobanian medics emerged to help better treat any wounded. Gavriil insisted he stay here, but he was told he would have to go back to get a new tank, which would be along in due time. Kedlavich and Daskal would go back with him, as would wounded from the four tanks the company lost. The redheaded Captain looked at Kedlavich as the young man lay in the back of the tracked carrier with his crew, almost completely burnt alive. The driver's mouth was still hanging open, evidence of his screams as he'd tried to combat the flames. From what Gavriil understood, one of the rounds that'd hit had filled the driver's compartment with flames. Soon his parents would be told how brave their young son had been, and how much the state was in debt to them for that. He hoped they wouldn't openly view his body before it was buried.