The NTC's Mojave was a very harsh terrain, a hell of a place to lose a cow
or to throw a tank track, and today it was worse yet, because it was
swarming with the Opposing Forces.
The Threat were on their way in overwhelming numbers. Their assault force
was four times larger than the beleaguered Americans, and they were
blitzkrieging headlong in Soviet T-72 heavy tanks and mechanized
transports.
The unlucky One-Twelve Cav were to take their initial stand in the
ruggedly digitized Mojave hills on a baseline code-named Purple. Their
orders were to fight in their sector, delaying the advance as best they
could, while retreating in good order to Baseline Amber, where the
survivors (if there were any) were to take another stand.
The attacking enemy would advance from west to east. That much was already
known. But the exact enemy tactics were obscured by the fog of war.
The US company commander, Capt. Van Aken, studied the terrain and deployed
his meager forces with care. Alpha Platoon to guard the center. Bravo
Platoon to the north. Charlie Platoon to the south. The command post to
the rear, near Baseline Amber. And the scouts, in their swift but lightly
armored Bradleys, to range ahead of Baseline Purple.
The One-Twelve Cav had their orders. They understood their strategy. They
left the command post for the squat plastic ranks of simulators. The
Jacuzzis of Death.
From the outside, a SIMNET M1 Abrams tank simulator is clearly not a tank.
It looks like an oddly humped gray fiberglass shower-stall. The simulator
is, in fact, built by Jacuzzi from the same materials as a whirlpool bath.
Its interior, however, is designed to psycho-logically replicate the basic
tank experience, and it does.
Inside, the simulator is the proper shape and size for a tank's crew
chamber. It makes all the proper sounds: the loud engine whine, the
ominous rumble of treads, the multi-ton coffee-grinder racket as the
turret slews, the concussive thud of the main gun firing. It has the
instruments of a tank, though many of those controls are nonfunctional and
only painted-on. There are no actual 40-pound high-explosive shells inside
simulators, though the loader, by design, must still go through the
physical motions of cramming them into the cannon, with all the proper
timing, proper footwork, and the proper clanks and thuds.
A real M1 Abrams battle tank is a nightmarish vehicle. It weighs 70 tons.
It's 26 feet long and 12 feet wide. It carries a 120-millimeter cannon
that fires rounds that travel a mile-per-second: high-explosive shells, or
armor-piercing uranium slugs. The M1 tank can climb obstacles three feet
high with no trouble, cross ditches eight feet wide with ease, and roar
down roads at 42 mph. It is an extremely lethal and frightening machine
