Chapter One
19 June 2000 A.D.
4th Squadron, 12th Cavalry Staging Area
3 Km East of Chojnice Poland
M3 Bradley engines turned over as Lieutenant Archer reviewed his operation orders and map. 4th Squadron, 12th Cavalry was to scout ahead of this prong of the 5th Infantry Division’s attack. He looked at the area of operations and then called to Sergeant Ayers.
“Sergeant Ayers!” The Sergeant stopped advising Private First Class Contreras on the ammunition situation of his vehicle and reported to Lieutenant Archer.
“Sir?” he replied questioningly.
“Sergeant, we’re the last group of M3’s left from 1st Brigade, the General has us scouting ahead of the 12th.”
“Well the last thing we were thinking at the beginning was that the Cavalry would go back to their roots.” Ayers chuckled.
“Anyways, being the last M3’s here, we will be held in Reserve as the other parts of the Squadron screen towards Lodz. We believe the village of Tuchola is friendly, but we’ll find out when we get there. Our vehicles will then deploy on the wing to Torun, we believe that there may be resistance, and it’s our job to determine if there is any and in what strength.” Sergeant Ayers nodded his head; he’d heard all this during the formal briefings.
“What has changed,” Archer continued, “is that no one can decide what to do with us. We’re too valuable to waste, and too valuable not to use. We need to be ready to be at the front of screens and supporting the mounted Cav.”
“That seems to be the dilemma, right sir?” Ayers responded. He finished copying the details on Archer’s map.
“Well Intelligence is faulty as Hell; we’ll just have to see what situation dictates. The show kicks off in about an hour, we cross the line of departure 10 minutes after. Let’s finish our preparations.”
“Yes sir.” Ayers replied and then returned to his vehicle. Archer patted the side of his M3 and traced his hand over the paint stenciled on the side, Iron Maiden.
“You’ll hold up,” he said to himself, “won’t you?”
2 Hours Later
Past Phase line Jackson (LOD)
1 Km west of Tuchola, Poland
Lieutenant Archer scanned the horizon with his binoculars; he couldn’t spot anything unusual on the terrain from where they were. “It’s too quiet Summers.” He said on the inter-com.
“Maybe they pulled out sir.” Summers replied.
“No, I doubt it, send out the scouts.”
Sergeant Erik Carpenter hit the ramp with his foot as soon as it came down. He found a fold of ground and dove for it. Private First Class Jake Morris followed and quickly went prone beside him. The rest of the team from the second M3 met them. “All right, the village of Tuchola, should be due east of here, let’s move out, column.” Sergeant Carpenter folded up his map and put it in its case. They moved through a stand of trees cautiously and eventually made their way to the edge where a field opened up before them. They could see the remaining houses of the village on the opposite side of the field which stretched before them. “There it is, move carefully.” He gave the hand signal for a team wedge and they continued forward. As they neared Carpenter could see some movement as armed men patrolled around the buildings. He raised his hand up and clenched his fist: “Freeze.” Then patted the air: “Get Down.” The group of men went to the edge of the road leading into the village and stood there.
“Looks like they are waiting for someone.” Corporal Stone said. Carpenter looked through his binoculars and noticed they had armbands with a Polish Partisans symbol stitched onto them: A double-headed eagle, over a Polish flag.
“Partisans, looks like the ones we are supposed to meet. Take it slow and meet up with them. But, be alert, they could be with the Commies.” They stood up and moved slowly in the field, trying to look non-threatening. As the partisans noticed them near, they all turned in their direction and waved to them, speaking in their language. “Morris, let the L.T. know we made contact with what appears to be the partisans from Tuchola.
“So, who knows Polish?” Lieutenant Archer asked. The four partisans stood and watched the soldiers as they conferred.
“I might sir.” Corporal Smith stepped forward, slinging her rifle over her shoulder.
“How much do you know?” Archer asked.
“Enough I hope sir; I studied a bit in school. I’ll give it a try.” She stepped forward and spoke, “Może pytam gdzie Radziecki są?”
“Ja nie może pamiętać dokładnie. Tam są Komunistyczny Język polski i Radzieckie jednostki do południe wschód Tuchola. Nie ma wiele przy Torun. Ale tam jest wielka moc w Krosniewice.” The lead partisan replied.
Naturally, Smith thought to herself. This is going to take awhile…
30 minutes later
“What the hell is going on here Lieutenant?” a gruff voice startled Archer who turned around to see the CO of B Troop: Captain Haynes.
“Translation troubles Captain, we’ve lost most of our ‘official’ translators.” Archer stressed the word official.
“What have you learned?” Haynes said, dusting himself off from the ride.
“The partisans, say the Soviets aren’t here but they do know the road to Krosniewice is relatively clear. There are some unknown Pact forces at Torun, but there aren’t supposedly that many.”
“You sound unsure.”
“Well we can’t be sure they are reliable, they say the Soviets are all over the place. But, they claim the roads are clear all the way through, excepting Torun.
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Captain Haynes said, returning to his horse. Archer climbed back aboard Iron Maiden and thanked God that he still had her as he laid out his map.
|