supposed to be the conceited one.”
Taking advantage of the opening, she gibed, “And so you are, I’ll drink to that,” and drained her glass.
She had hit him off guard and on the mark. His smirk disappeared and his ears turned red as he bit back a nasty remark. He changed subjects quickly. “You know the
G-2 is beginning to lose his patience with your estimates of Iranian resistance. Do you really believe they’re going to try to fight the Russians and us? I mean, it doesn’t make sense.”
Matthews looked at Kovack for a moment. She found it hard to believe that the two of them, with the same training and background, could look at the same information and come up with two entirely different conclusions.
“Kovack, I don’t believe that even you can be so stupid. Haven’t you been watching the news? Ten days after the Soviets invade their country, and with them less than a hundred and fifty miles from Tehran, the Iranians are still demonstrating against the U.S. There are just as many anti-American banners in their demonstrations as there are anti-Soviet. These people don’t see any difference between us and them. They don’t see any difference now and they won’t see one when the first Americans land there.”
With composure and confidence born from assurance of his convictions, Kovack countered her, point by point, clearly demonstrating, in his mind, the foolishness of her position. “Surely,” he concluded, “once we’re on the ground and they see we’re there to fight the Russians and help them preserve their country, they’ll flock to our side.”
Matthews merely shook her head. “Kovack, you’re an idiot as well as an asshole. We are dealing with fanatics. Fanatics that are part of a proud race of people. Anyone that is not a Persian or a Shiite is their enemy. No one, regardless of motivation, is going to change their minds.
They’ll go down to a man before they embrace us as friends.”
Leaning forward and placing his hand on her thigh, Kovack whispered,
“Talking about going down and embracing friends, let’s leave. The night’s still young.”
Matthews stood up without breaking eye contact. “Like the Iranians, I’m careful whom I pick for friends.” With that she turned and walked away, followed by Kovack’s taunt “I have not yet begun to fight.”
Five Kilometers West of Kaju, Iran 0645 Hours, 5 June (0315 Hours, 5
June, GMT )
With a thunderous roar, the bombardment of the Iranian positions commenced on schedule. The lead elements of the 67th Motorized Rifle Division were already unraveling from their assembly areas and deploying for the attack.
To their north, the summit of the Kuh-a Sahand looked down on the mass of
Soviet armor as it moved east, converging on a single point.
The Iranians had taken their time preparing their defensive positions before the town of Kaju. The town itself was of little importance.
What did matter was the rail line that ran through it. It was the main rail line running south from Tabriz, around Kuh-a Sahand and then to Tehran. The
Soviets needed it. To secure it, and the road system running south from
Tabriz, the 28th CAA had split at Tabriz, with one motorized rifle division and the tank division attacking straight south along the roads while two motorized rifle divisions swung west around the Sahand to clear the rail line.
The Iranians saw this splitting of forces as an opportunity to defeat the
Soviets. Everything that they could muster, including most of their pitifully small tank reserve, was concentrated either at Kaju, to block
Soviet efforts to clear the rail line out of Tabriz, or at Bastanabad, to block the Soviet advance along the roads leading south from Tabriz.
The
Iranians did not want to lose any more of the northwest than they had to.
Besides, the farther the Soviets pushed south, the easier the terrain became. The Iranians were gambling on a winner-take-all proposition.
The Soviets, on the other hand,
Taking advantage of the opening, she gibed, “And so you are, I’ll drink to that,” and drained her glass.
She had hit him off guard and on the mark. His smirk disappeared and his ears turned red as he bit back a nasty remark. He changed subjects quickly. “You know the
G-2 is beginning to lose his patience with your estimates of Iranian resistance. Do you really believe they’re going to try to fight the Russians and us? I mean, it doesn’t make sense.”
Matthews looked at Kovack for a moment. She found it hard to believe that the two of them, with the same training and background, could look at the same information and come up with two entirely different conclusions.
“Kovack, I don’t believe that even you can be so stupid. Haven’t you been watching the news? Ten days after the Soviets invade their country, and with them less than a hundred and fifty miles from Tehran, the Iranians are still demonstrating against the U.S. There are just as many anti-American banners in their demonstrations as there are anti-Soviet. These people don’t see any difference between us and them. They don’t see any difference now and they won’t see one when the first Americans land there.”
With composure and confidence born from assurance of his convictions, Kovack countered her, point by point, clearly demonstrating, in his mind, the foolishness of her position. “Surely,” he concluded, “once we’re on the ground and they see we’re there to fight the Russians and help them preserve their country, they’ll flock to our side.”
Matthews merely shook her head. “Kovack, you’re an idiot as well as an asshole. We are dealing with fanatics. Fanatics that are part of a proud race of people. Anyone that is not a Persian or a Shiite is their enemy. No one, regardless of motivation, is going to change their minds.
They’ll go down to a man before they embrace us as friends.”
Leaning forward and placing his hand on her thigh, Kovack whispered,
“Talking about going down and embracing friends, let’s leave. The night’s still young.”
Matthews stood up without breaking eye contact. “Like the Iranians, I’m careful whom I pick for friends.” With that she turned and walked away, followed by Kovack’s taunt “I have not yet begun to fight.”
Five Kilometers West of Kaju, Iran 0645 Hours, 5 June (0315 Hours, 5
June, GMT )
With a thunderous roar, the bombardment of the Iranian positions commenced on schedule. The lead elements of the 67th Motorized Rifle Division were already unraveling from their assembly areas and deploying for the attack.
To their north, the summit of the Kuh-a Sahand looked down on the mass of
Soviet armor as it moved east, converging on a single point.
The Iranians had taken their time preparing their defensive positions before the town of Kaju. The town itself was of little importance.
What did matter was the rail line that ran through it. It was the main rail line running south from Tabriz, around Kuh-a Sahand and then to Tehran. The
Soviets needed it. To secure it, and the road system running south from
Tabriz, the 28th CAA had split at Tabriz, with one motorized rifle division and the tank division attacking straight south along the roads while two motorized rifle divisions swung west around the Sahand to clear the rail line.
The Iranians saw this splitting of forces as an opportunity to defeat the
Soviets. Everything that they could muster, including most of their pitifully small tank reserve, was concentrated either at Kaju, to block
Soviet efforts to clear the rail line out of Tabriz, or at Bastanabad, to block the Soviet advance along the roads leading south from Tabriz.
The
Iranians did not want to lose any more of the northwest than they had to.
Besides, the farther the Soviets pushed south, the easier the terrain became. The Iranians were gambling on a winner-take-all proposition.
The Soviets, on the other hand,
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