From where he stood, King could clearly see that the rogue tank was hell bent on disrupting his company’s efforts to form up. In the growing light he watched in disgust as a cluster of four of his highly trained paratroopers threw down their ruck sacks and scattered to either side of the tank as it careened madly about the open range. It was like watching a cat scatter a nest of rats. Dismayed by this unexpected turn of events and what King took to be the cowardly behavior of his own men, the young company commander turned to the leader of the 1st Platoon. “Baskas,” King growled, “pull your people together and stop that damned thing.” King considered adding, “before someone gets hurt,” to his order, but didn’t. Clearly he could see with his own eyes that whoever was controlling that tank didn’t give a damn about the safety of his men. Therefore, he didn’t give their safety a second thought.

For a moment, 2nd Lieutenant Baskas stared at King, then over at the tank as it took up the pursuit of a gaggle of paratroopers. “How, sir, do you suggest I do that?” Baskas asked innocently.

King exploded. “I don’t give a shit how you do that, Lieutenant. Just do it, NOW!”

After throwing a weary glance over to his platoon sergeant, Baskas gave King a quick, halfhearted salute before taking off at a run in search of a member of his weapons squad.

In his race to find members of his weapons squad before the rampaging tank found him, Baskas came across two of these troopers clawing at a container. “You two, what are you doing?” he shouted as he trotted up behind them.

“What in the hell does it look like, LT,” one of the excited young paratroopers shot back. “We’re trying to get this CLU out and ready.”

Baskas paused. The CLU they were busily digging out of the drop bag was the command launch unit for a Javelin antitank missile. While Baskas’s first thoughts had been of securing a SAW with which to scare off the tank, it struck him that an antitank guided missile would be better. “How soon,” Baskas asked, “before you’re ready?”

The same outspoken Javelin gunner turned and looked at his platoon leader. “We’d be ready a whole lot quicker,” he snapped, “if you’d lend a hand and get a missile ready.”

Ignoring the chastisement and seeing the sense in the soldier’s response, Baskas slung his rifle over his shoulder, dropped to his knees, and joined in the scramble to get the weapon up and operational.