The Bear and the Dragon - Tom Clancy [303]
"They should have tried putting SAM teams outside their perimeter," Colonel Boyle observed, watching the computer screen. Instead, the German colonel had tried IR lures, which the Apache gunners had learned to distinguish from the real thing. Under the rules of the scenario, proper tank decoys had not been allowed. They were a little harder to discriminate—the American-made ones almost exactly replicated the visual signature of an M1 tank, and had an internal heat source for fooling infrared gear at night—and fired off a Hoffman pyrotechnic charge to simulate a return shot when they took a hit. But they were made so well for their mission that they could not be mistaken for anything other than what they were, either a real Ml main battle tank, and hence friendly, or a decoy, and thus not really useful in a training exercise, all in all a case of battlefield technology being too good for a training exercise.
"Pegasus Lead to Archangel, over," the digital radio called. With the new radios, it was no longer a static-marred crackle.
"Archangel to Pegasus," Colonel Boyle answered.
"Sir, we are Winchester and just about out of targets. No friendly casualties. Pegasus is RTB, over."
"Roger, Pegasus. Looks good from here. Out."
And with that, the Apache battalion of attack choppers and their Kiowa bird-dogs turned back for their airfield for the mission debrief and post-game beers.
Boyle looked over at General Diggs. "Sir, I don't know how to do it much better than that."
"Our hosts are going to be pissed."
"The Bundeswehr isn't what it used to be. Their political leadership thinks peace has broken out all the way, and their troopers know it. They could have put some of their own choppers up to run interference, but my boys are pretty good at air-to-air—we train for it, and my pilots really like the idea of making ace on their own—but their chopper drivers aren't getting all the gas they need for operational training. Their best chopper drivers are down in the Balkans doing traffic observation."
Diggs nodded thoughtfully. The problems of the Bundeswehr were not, strictly speaking, his problems. "Colonel, that was well done. Please convey my pleasure to your people. What's next for you?"
"General, we have a maintenance stand-down tomorrow, and two days later we're going to run a major search-and-rescue exercise with my Blackhawks. You're welcome to come over and watch."
"I just might, Colonel Boyle. You done good. Be seeing you."
"Yes, sir." The colonel saluted, and General Diggs walked out to his. HMMWV, with Colonel Masterman in attendance.
"Well, Duke?"
"Like I told you, sir, Boyle's been feeding his boys and girls a steady diet of nails and human babies."
"Well, his next fitness report's going to get him a star, I think."
"His Apache commander's not bad either."
"That's a fact," the divisional G-3 agreed. "Pegasus" was his call sign, and he'd kicked some serious ass this night.
"What's next?"
"Sir, in three days we have a big SimNet exercise against the Big Red One at Fort Riley. Our boys are pretty hot for it."
"Divisional readiness?" Diggs asked.
"We're pushing ninety-five percent, General. Not much slack left to take up. I mean, sir, to go any farther, we gotta take the troops out to Fort Irwin or maybe the Negev Training Area. Are we as good as the Tenth Cav or the Eleventh? No, we don't get to play in the field as much as they do." And, he didn't have to add, no division in any army in the world got the money to train that hard. "But given the limitations we have to live with, there's