Alright Uri-Ki, this one's for you.
It was 1972 when my tank platoon was bivouacked in the open for an assembly about 4 pm one sunny summer day at a training ground in Bavaria (not far from the East German border at that time) And those of us left on the tanks on radio watch were setting on the top of the turret watching an artillery barrage out in the valley(dear God!) BOOM.......ROAAAR..... and we were all literally vibrated to our very core looking straight up into the yellow afterburners of an F4 doing victory rolls right over our heads heading right for the sun itself! I thought about the letter my parents would have received about their oldest son leaving earthly life in the blink of an eye. We didn't see nor hear that jet coming. They had to be just above tree tops till they nailed us.
Those two jocks flew back to Rhine-Maine AB for a hot shower and steak and lobster at the officers club while we were left to contemplate our demise over a can of ham and lima beans or some other disgusting excuse for combat rations.
As a gunner on an M60 tank at that time, this incident solidified my resolve to make the first shot, and make it the accurate shot fired, in whatever encounter we met.
We had one armored Division to stop the 10 divisions the Soviet 8th Guards had across the Iron Curtain. Short of nuclear action, the Division Commander had what the strategists determined was two days of intense ground combat, and a final day of sporadic resistance as fuel and ammo ran out among individual crews before the General no longer had a command.
Thinking about the new team players in this "game", the thought of another Cold War scares me to death.
It was 1972 when my tank platoon was bivouacked in the open for an assembly about 4 pm one sunny summer day at a training ground in Bavaria (not far from the East German border at that time) And those of us left on the tanks on radio watch were setting on the top of the turret watching an artillery barrage out in the valley(dear God!) BOOM.......ROAAAR..... and we were all literally vibrated to our very core looking straight up into the yellow afterburners of an F4 doing victory rolls right over our heads heading right for the sun itself! I thought about the letter my parents would have received about their oldest son leaving earthly life in the blink of an eye. We didn't see nor hear that jet coming. They had to be just above tree tops till they nailed us.
Those two jocks flew back to Rhine-Maine AB for a hot shower and steak and lobster at the officers club while we were left to contemplate our demise over a can of ham and lima beans or some other disgusting excuse for combat rations.
As a gunner on an M60 tank at that time, this incident solidified my resolve to make the first shot, and make it the accurate shot fired, in whatever encounter we met.
We had one armored Division to stop the 10 divisions the Soviet 8th Guards had across the Iron Curtain. Short of nuclear action, the Division Commander had what the strategists determined was two days of intense ground combat, and a final day of sporadic resistance as fuel and ammo ran out among individual crews before the General no longer had a command.
Thinking about the new team players in this "game", the thought of another Cold War scares me to death.
