by James Rosone
Lin watched several more rockets fly toward the enemy tanks from the floors below him. Two rockets were destroyed by the tanks’ defensive systems, but two more hit their marks, disabling the tanks they had hit.
Whistles blew, and suddenly the waves of militia units ran forward, right towards their positions. The machine gunners on Lin’s floor immediately opened fire, pouring hundreds of rounds into the wall of militia soldiers charging their position. Enemy soldiers were dropping to the ground like ragdolls from the barrage of bullets being fired at them. The machine gun positions on the lower floors of Lin’s building also added their fire to the melee, wiping out row after row of the militia soldiers.
“How can they just run into our machine guns like that and not break?” Lin asked himself as one of the machine guns near him began to reload. It was sickening how many enemy soldiers they were killing. It was like they were sheaves of wheat being cut down by a mighty scythe.
With nearly half a dozen tanks destroyed or disabled, several infantry fighting vehicles began to move around the wreckage and advance towards their positions. Suddenly, a loud ripping sound blasted Sergeant Lin’s senses and he instinctually dropped to the floor, just in time to see chunks of the brick wall flying inward. The room he was in was ripped apart by dozens of heavy-caliber machine guns. The armored vehicles had turned their 25mm and 30mm auto cannons towards their little fortress, systematically trying to shred them and suppress their fire while the militia forces advanced.
In seconds, nearly half of the soldiers on the floor with Lin were torn to pieces by the heavy-caliber rounds. One of the soldiers’ head simply exploded as a round tore right through one of the support beams the soldier had been hiding behind. Another soldier had both of his legs ripped off when he tried to move to a position further within the building; his cries of agony could be heard over the roar of the enemy machine guns.
Despite this deadly chaos, Sergeant Lin’s remaining machine gunners continued to pour their deadly fire down on the enemy soldiers advancing towards them. Just as Lin didn’t think they would be able to hold out any longer, one of the few remaining M60 Patton tanks emerged from an alleyway nearby and fired an antipersonnel round into the militia forces that were about to overrun their position.
The tank’s M1028 canister round was essentially a large shotgun round, spewing hundreds of steel ball bearings out the barrel at the charging enemy soldiers. As the tank’s gunner continued firing antipersonnel rounds into the human wave, attempting to overwhelm them, the Patton’s coax machine gun added its own fire, and so did the tank commander’s M2 .50 turret-mounted machine gun.
In less than fifteen seconds, the tank had wiped out nearly 200 enemy soldiers as the militia attack faltered. Then, the PLA regular army soldiers began to advance, along with several infantry fighting vehicles. The M60 Patton switched from firing antipersonnel rounds to their high-explosive anti-tank or HEAT rounds, targeting the enemy armored vehicles. In short order, two of the armored vehicles were destroyed in a blaze of glory.
Out of nowhere, a T-99 suddenly appeared from around a nearby corner and fired a HEAT round at the M60. The Taiwanese tank exploded from the impact, killing the crew instantly, but not before they had helped to blunt the enemy attack.
Sergeant Lin was just about to report what was going on when Major Wu came over the radio. “Sergeant, have your soldiers fall back to the next defensive position!” he ordered.
“Fall back! Fall back now!” Lin yelled at his men over the sounds of the nearby conflict.
His soldiers immediately followed his orders, picking up their gear and moving out. However, as Lin’s men took their gear and ran, the PLA soldiers noticed that the Taiwanese had stopped firing on them and tried to rush the positions that Sergeant Lin and his men were trying to vacate.
As Lin reached the ground floor, he pressed down on the detonator to the six Claymore mines they had daisy-chained together. The sudden roar and boom of the explosion rocked the building Lin was exiting and wiped out a company’s worth of enemy soldiers, who were just about to enter the building.
By the time Sergeant Lin’s thirty-eight-man force made it to the next defensive line, they were down to just twenty-one soldiers. Lin looked around at the tired, scared and dirty faces and thought, “We can’t keep fighting like this. There won’t be anyone left. Someone needs to talk about a surrender so some of us can survive this hellish war.”
* * *
Explosions continued to rock the city of Taipei as the Chinese air force and ground attack helicopters continued to hunt for enemy strong points and armored vehicles. Colonel Wang’s armored unit had been decimated during the past few weeks. While they’d had some initial success during the first day of the invasion, as the PLA had landed more tanks and their air cover and air defense systems had been systematically destroyed, his tanks were starting to get wiped out. When the order came down to fall back into the capital and prepare to fight block by block, he ordered his few remaining tanks to support the infantry as best they could.
Colonel Wang moved to one of the tanks in his unit to talk briefly with the tank commander. “How are you holding up, soldier?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice.
The tank commander, a young sergeant, looked down at Colonel Wang with tired yet determined eyes. “We are doing OK now that we’ve been given proper ammunition for this type of fighting.” The soldier paused for a second, looking up at the sky as another jet raced somewhere high above them.
Then he looked back at his brigade commander and asked, “Sir, how much longer are we going to fight? We can’t hold the city, and we are being systematically wiped out. If any of us are going to live through this, then we need to either withdraw from the city or surrender.” The sergeant did not care if he sounded like a defeatist; he was tired of fighting and tired of seeing his friends killed.
Colonel Wang felt pained by the soldier’s question. He had been pondering that same question for some time now. “I wish I had an answer for you, Sergeant. All I can say is we fight until we are told otherwise. Right now, division has not said anything about surrendering, and I am frankly not sure if we are going to surrender or fight until there is nothing left,” he replied. He knew this was not the answer the young sergeant was hoping for, but it was the best answer he could give.
The soldier nodded in reply and then readied his helmet and went back to the task of getting his crew and tank ready for the next round.
Wang felt he needed to get some sort of answer from his own chain of command on this very subject, so he went back into his command center and tried to locate the division commander.
Thirty minutes went by as one of his operations officers worked to track down the general. Finally, they received word that the division headquarters had been destroyed during an airstrike. The general and two other division commanders in charge of the city had been killed. After some initial confusion, the military leadership in the Heng Shan Military Command Center wanted to speak with Colonel Wang.
“Colonel, this is General Wong. Right now, you are the most senior army officer in the city. I need an assessment of how things are going on the ground there and if you believe the units left can continue to hold the city,” the general demanded.
Colonel Wang thought about this for a moment. There were three divisions fighting in Taipei; if he was the most senior guy left, then that meant a lot of the divisions had probably been wiped out or had suffered some serious casualties. “Before I can give you that assessment, Sir, I need to know what the situation is outside the city. I’ve been focused on using my armor units to support the infantry in their various fortresses they’ve been establishing throughout the city, but I have no idea what enemy forces we are facing or what the situation is around us,” he replied.
A short pause elapsed as the general was clearly talking with a few others nearby about something, perhaps gathering some of the information Wang had just requested.
“Colonel, I’m placing you on s
peaker so one of the other officers can provide you with that information.”
A second later, another voice who had not introduced himself spoke. “Colonel, during the past two hours, the PLA have completed their encirclement of the capital. We are not certain about the number of enemy forces you are facing, other than to say we know a lot of units that are landing at the ports and beaches are being ferried directly to your position.”
The voice paused for a second, perhaps trying to consider how much additional information they should provide him. “Right now, the island has been split in half. We estimate the PLA has probably landed around 200,000 militia forces and nearly 100,000 regular army forces, with more landing each day. We don’t have any additional reinforcements we can send you. The few operational units we have left are retreating to the countryside right now to begin setting up an insurgency operation—”
“—Colonel,” General Wong interrupted at this point, “do you believe your forces can hold the city for a few more days?”
Wang grunted at that request. “With all due respect General, hold the city for a few more days to accomplish what exactly? We’ve been fighting across the city for more than a week. We are systematically destroying the entire city in the process, not to mention the hundreds of thousands of civilians that are still trapped in the city and are being killed. I’m being inundated with civilian casualties seeking medical help, and now the uninjured are desperately asking for food and water. These are supplies that I can barely scrounge up for my own men, let alone the people trapped in the city.”
Angry, he passionately continued, “Can we hold the city for a few more days? Probably, but how many more civilians are going to die during this futile effort? I don’t know — probably thousands or even tens of thousands. The PLA has not exactly been careful with their artillery barrages or air strikes. I never wanted to be caught in this position, but I believe our best course of action at this point is to either try and break out of the city to the countryside or surrender.”
“There, I said it,” he thought. “It’s only what every soldier trapped in this city has been asking me for days. If the island is lost, then why continue to fight? Why should we continue dying for a lost cause?”
For what seemed like a long minute, there was no response from the other end of the line. Wang thought the call might have been disconnected when he finally heard General Wong’s voice. “I understand, Colonel. Your division has fought with great distinction. No one will ever say otherwise. You bring up a valid point about the civilian casualties. We never meant to turn Taipei into a street fight, but it just kind of happened, and unfortunately hundreds of thousands of people have been trapped in the city as a consequence.”
An audible sigh could be heard on the other end. “I give you permission to surrender the city, Colonel. You may choose the timing of this, but if you truly feel there is no chance to break out of the city, then you are authorized to surrender the remaining forces and end the fighting in Taipei,” General Wong said, finally acknowledging what everyone else already knew. The city just could not be held without completely destroying it and killing nearly everyone still trapped in it.
Colonel Wang responded, “Acknowledged, Sir. I will assess our ability to break out and get back to you within the next couple of hours.
When Wang terminated the secured communication link, the others in the command center looked at him, their eyes almost pleading with him not to order them to fight to the death. Many of them had families that still lived in the city or the surrounding areas. They just wanted to live through the war and see their loved ones again.
Within a few hours, it was clear to Wang that they did not have enough fuel, vehicles, or ammunition to mount much of an offensive to try and punch a hole in the PLA lines. The mountain tunnels to their east had been captured and closed off by PLA paratroopers, and the tunnels to the south had also been captured, leaving him no real options to break out. At that point, Colonel Wang made the decision that he would surrender the remaining forces in the city and put an end to some of the bloodiest street fighting since World War II.
Battle of the Mind
Sinanju, North Korea
The snow had been falling now for nearly three straight days, forcing a short pause in the ground war in Korea, although both sides’ air forces were still bent on killing each other. The foul weather had limited the use of helicopters, drones, and artillery for the moment, so things were strikingly quiet.
Sergeant Ian Slater of the 2nd Infantry Division, 16th Mechanized Brigade, shivered as he found a nearby tree he could relieve himself against. He desperately wanted to avoid going out in the cold and snow, but his bladder demanded immediate attention. He wanted to do his business quickly and get back inside the Bradley fighting vehicle where the rest of his squad was staying nice and warm.
“This sucks!” he moaned to himself. “How in the world did I end up in the middle of a war? Join the Army, get the GI Bill — that’s what the recruiter and my parents said I should do if I wanted to go to college. Forget the Army, and college — I just want out!” His anger was the only thing keeping him warm.
Ian’s unit was supporting a Republic of Korea tank division that had driven the North Korean Army to the Taeryong River, the last major natural barrier before the Yalu River and China. The PLA, for their part, had rushed tens of thousands of soldiers across the border, slowing the ROK and American forces down, but not stopping them from pushing to this last barrier. Had the weather not slowed them up, they might have already crossed the river and finished capturing the rest of North Korea.
“Hey, Sergeant Slater, you almost done? The lieutenant wants to talk to you,” one of his soldiers yelled from the opened hatch of their armored vehicle.
Ian finished his business, turned and yelled back, “Yeah, I’m on my way. Tell the LT to give me a second.” He trudged back to the warmth of the vehicle.
As long as they had fuel, the vehicle commander, who hailed from Hawaii, was going to keep the track running, and the heater along with it. He kept the vehicle nice and toasty, which was fine by the soldiers packed in the back.
When Ian got into the vehicle, he grabbed the mic from one of the soldiers. “This is Baker Three, go ahead, Baker Six,” he said, responding to the lieutenant. This was their second platoon leader since the start of the war. The first lieutenant had been hit by a sniper and killed, then their company commander had been killed in an enemy artillery strike. They had lost a lot of officers, so despite only being an E-5 sergeant, Slater found himself as one of the senior sergeants left in the company.
“Baker Three, this is Baker Six. I need you to come over to my vehicle. I need to pass some information to you. How copy?” asked his platoon leader.
Slater sighed at the thought of having to go back outside in the cold and snow and work his way through the several feet of it now on the ground to the lieutenant’s vehicle.
“Good copy. I’m on my way,” he answered, knowing that he didn’t have an option.
“OK, you guys are on your own for a bit. I’m heading off to find the LT’s vehicle,” Sergeant Slater announced.
The other soldiers just grunted in response. Several of them were busy reading a book on their Kindles, or just writing a letter home.
It took Ian twenty minutes of trudging through the snow and cold before he found the lieutenant’s vehicle. As he approached it, he saw the other sergeants were standing around a map that had been stuck to the outside of the vehicle. He also noticed they all had cups of hot coffee in their hands.
“Ah, there you are, Sergeant Slater. We have some coffee over there. Help yourself, and then I’ll go over what the colonel just sent down,” his platoon leader said jovially.
“Eh, he’s new and green, so he’s still happy and excited. Give him a few weeks of this hellhole, and he’ll be as disgruntled as the rest of us,” Ian thought as he poured a cup of piping-hot coffee.
Walking back to join the other sergeants, he sa
w they were all wearing new ranks. Lieutenant Porter, the platoon command, also had captain’s bars on.
“What just happened? Did everyone just get a promotion besides me?” he thought, angry and confused.
Seeing the puzzled look on Slater’s face, Captain Porter pulled out a pair of sergeant first class chevrons and handed them to him. “The brigade has lost a lot of soldiers since the start of the war, and replacements are finally starting to show up. The colonel said to promote all the NCOs up two grades to start filling in for the losses. When you guys get back to your squads, I want you to pick two new people to promote to sergeant and one person to move up to staff sergeant. We have 62 new replacement soldiers that’ll be arriving tonight. We’ll be filtering them into the various platoons, and this should bring us up to 100 % strength. We’re also getting several new Bradley vehicles and six Strykers,” Captain Porter explained.
This brought a lot of happy nods from the group, as some were excited about the pay bumps. There were also a few concerned looks, as they all knew additional vehicles and replacements meant they were most likely going to see more combat soon.
One of the sergeants interjected, “No disrespect, Captain, but you just arrived with our unit not more than six days ago as a second lieutenant; now you’re our new company commander, and all of us have been promoted up to sergeant first class or master sergeant. What the heck is going on?”
Captain Porter, for his part, did not look the least bit offended. “You know better than I do how many casualties we’ve been taking since the start of the war. The President has also announced a massive draft back home, so some of these new draftees and replacement soldiers are starting to arrive. They range from privates to specialists in rank, which means we need a lot more sergeants. On the officer side of things, it’s even worse. Nearly 50 % of the officers in the brigade have been either killed or wounded. The colonel is just trying to get the brigade back up to fighting strength. I know I’m new, and I’m going to rely on your experience to help me lead this company,” he replied, which garnered a few nods and approvals.