The sum of all fears - Tom Clancy [399]
"Power coming on," the driver reported over the intercom. The diesel engine roared to life along with all the others.
Bock flipped the loading switch to Armor-Piercing Fin-Stabilized Discarding-Sabot round and punched the load button. Automatically, the breech to the tank's main gun dropped open, and first the shell, then the propellant charge were rammed home, and the breech shut by itself. That, Bock thought, was easy enough. Next he depressed the gunsight and selected an American tank. It was easy to spot. The American tank park was lit up like any parking lot so that trespassers might easily be spotted. The laser gave him a range display, and Bock elevated the gun to the proper stadimeter line. The wind he estimated as zero. It was a calm night. Bock checked his watch and waited for the sweep hand to reach the twelve. Then he squeezed the triggers. Bock's T-80 rocked backwards, along with three others. Two-thirds of a second later, the shell struck the turret of the American tank. The results were impressive. He'd struck the ammo compartment in the rear of the turret. The forty rounds of ammunition ignited at once. Blowout panels vented most of it straight up, but the protective fire-doors inside the vehicle had already been blown out by the shell, and the crew incinerated in their seats as their two-million-dollar tank turned into a mottled green-and-brown volcano, along with two others.
One hundred meters to the north, the regimental commander froze in mid-sentence, turning towards the noise in disbelief.
"What's going on?" he managed to shout, before Keitel shot him in the back of the head.
Bock had already fired his second round into the engine box of another tank, and was loading a third. Seven M1A1s were burning before the first American gunner got a round loaded. The huge turret swung around while tank commanders screamed orders at their drivers and gunners. Bock saw the operating turret and swung towards it. His round missed wide to the left, but struck another Abrams behind the first. The American shot also missed high, because the gunner was excited. His second round was instantly loaded, and the American exploded a T-80 two down from Bock's. Gunther decided to leave this American alone.
"We're under attack - commence firing commence firing!" the 'Soviet' tank commanders screamed into their own command circuits.
Keitel ran to the command vehicle. "I am Colonel Ivanenko. Your commander is dead - get moving! Take those crazy bastards out while we still have a regiment left!"
The operations officer hesitated, having not the slightest idea what was happening, only able to hear the gunfire. But the orders came from a colonel. He lifted his radio, dialed up the battalion command circuit and relayed the instruction.
There was the expected moment's hesitation. At least ten American tanks were now burning, but four were shooting back. Then the entire Soviet line opened fire, and three of the active American tanks were blown apart. Those shielded by the front row began firing off smoke and maneuvering, mainly backwards, as the Soviet tanks started to roll. Keitel watched in admiration as the Soviet T-80s moved out. Seven of them remained still, of which four were burning. Two more blew up before they crossed the line where once a wall had stood.
It was worth it, Keitel thought, just for this moment. Whatever Gunther had in mind, it was worth it to see the Russians and Americans killing each other.
Admiral Joshua Painter arrived at CINCLANT headquarters just in time to catch the dispatch from Theodore Roosevelt.
"Who's in command there?"
"Sir, the battlegroup commander