March 30, 1998
Nothing in canon for the day. Unofficially,
The Soviet force in Yukon succeeds in driving the ragtag force of American and Canadian defenders from the territorial capital, Whitehorse.
Further north in Alaska, the main body of the 147th (my 261st) Motor-Rifle Division has passed the abortive American roadblock and linked up with the 110th Guards Motor-Rifle Division's forward detachment. The American paratroops have succeeded in inflicting additional casulties on the retreating Soviet force, so the effort was not in vain.
The Bulgarian freighter A.B. Buzko, which has diverted from the Mediterranean with a partial cargo of grain and iron ore, arrives at the Soviet enclave of Mariel, Cuba. It begins unloading the grain; the bewildered Soviet commander has no further orders for the ship, which is running low on fuel.
In Europe, the NATO front line consists of a series of forward outposts linked by wire communications to fortified platoon and company positions (located on hilltops, small towns or large farms). Positions are well spread out to avoid creating a lucrative target for tactical nuclear weapons, but the low troop density at the front results in some positions being so isolated that they are not able to effectively reinforce each other. They are also undermanned, assigned frontages appropriate for full-strength units rather than the actual strengths present (which for European NATO units averages 8,000 men per division, 4,000 for American divisions). Additional soldiers are diverted to civil relief duties as well.
Pasdaran guerrillas shoot down a Soviet Mi-17 helicopter with a captured SA-14 missile as the helicopter approaches the city of Esfahan's airport.
The commanders of the 53rd Hungarian Mechanized Rifle Brigade and 27th (my 90th) Guards Tank Division meet and arrange a truce between the two units. The Soviet formation agrees to assist the Hungarians in their crossing of Lake Baikal in exchange for the Hungarians agreeing to hand over the craft they are using to cross rather than sink them on the western shore.
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I love the smell of napalm in the morning. You know, one time we had a hill bombed, for 12 hours. When it was all over, I walked up. We didn't find one of 'em, not one stinkin' body. The smell, you know that gasoline smell, the whole hill. Smelled like... victory. Someday this war's gonna end...
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