by James Rosone
Dr. Roberts knew that Wu was fluent in Russian as well as English, so he chose to use Russian to try to keep the Islamic militants ruse alive. Sebastian’s cover story was that he was a hostage negotiator, sent by a Russian company to help secure his release. This would be the genesis of their meeting and how he would start the questioning.
Twenty minutes later, Wu was seated at the table and ready to begin. Opening the door, Dr. Roberts walked in carrying a cup of hot tea and a small tray with some food indigenous to the western regions of China, where the Chinese Islamic militants were known to operate.
“The CIA really went to great lengths this time to ensure this deception is as real as possible,” Sebastian thought with admiration.
A man who appeared to be of Chinese descent stood in the corner, acting as a guard. Dr. Roberts sat down at the chair across from Wu. His subject lifted his head slightly. His eyes looked bloodshot and exhausted.
* * *
Lifting his head slightly, Wu looked around the dimly lit room to see if he could possibly identify where he was. His captors’ accent sounded like they were from southern China, not from the western portion of the country, where most of China’s Muslim population resided. Yet everywhere he looked, he saw items that suggested he was being held by an Islamic militant group. The guard in his room would stop to pray at the appropriate times of the day. When the guard wasn’t glaring at him, Wu observed him reading the Qur’an, and his captors either spoke Arabic or Mandarin and Uyghur dialects.
As his gaze drifted back down to the floor, his thoughts began to race.
“I don’t know if I can take much more of this. Who the heck are these guys and what do they want with me?” Wu thought as a new person walked into the room.
As he surveyed the figure before him, he tried to figure out if that man was of European or Russian descent. Wu was suddenly distracted when he smelled the food being brought in, and his stomach grumbled. “This must be a trap,” he thought. “I’m being interrogated… but by whom?”
The European-looking man placed the meal on a small table next to Wu. He smiled warmly and had a look of genuine concern on his face.
“Mr. Wu, I am sincerely sorry for the way these animals have been treating you,” Dr. Roberts said in perfect Russian. “My name is Ivanov. I work for a hostage rescue company that has been contracted to try and obtain your freedom from the Islamic State,” he said, which elicited a surprised look from Wu. He clearly had no idea who had kidnapped him.
Pushing the tray of food and tea towards him, he said, “Please, eat and drink. I am sorry you have been dealt with so horribly. I will do my best to ensure that you are given proper food, water, and more humane treatment. Do you know how long you have been held here?” he asked, wanting to see how’s Wu’s sense of time had developed.
“I don’t know, maybe a week or two. Can you tell me what happened?” he asked, almost pleading as he quickly ate the meager amount of mutton kebab and naan that Ivanov had brought him. He then downed the entire cup of tea, despite it still being rather hot. The life in his eyes started to return a bit; he began to feel better with some food in his belly. Just as he was about to start asking more questions of the hostage negotiator, he suddenly felt a little bit lightheaded. Then, for some reason, he felt a lot happier, euphoric even.
The negotiator responded, “You’ve been in captivity for nearly five weeks.”
Wu burst into tears.
“Why are you crying, Mr. Wu?” asked Dr. Roberts in a comforting tone. “You have done nothing wrong. Your capture was not your fault. It took many weeks, but eventually Chairman Zhang Deijang was able to track you down and contacted my firm to work on getting you released. I’ve been authorized to provide your captors with a large sum of money if they release you. I am confident we will be able to get you back to China within the week.”
Wu seemed to perk up at this comment, though the drugs were clearly working their magic now. He suddenly felt incredibly chatty and started asking all manner of questions to find out more information about the status of the war.
Knowing that this was the time to start asking his questions, Sebastian began his initial approach. “Mr. Wu, can you tell me what is supposed to happen next in Korea?”
Wu looked at him for a second and then smiled drunkenly as he answered, “If things went according to plan, the Americans will push our forces past the Yalu River, and then we will spring our counterattack. We have allowed the Americans to naively believe they are winning in Korea, driving our forces out of the country while we lure them further into our territory. A special trap is waiting for them….”
The two of them continued to talk for three more hours about what China had prepared for the Allies in Korea. Finally, Sebastian changed the topic. “How is China going to deal with the US Pacific Fleet? Won’t they prevent your plan from working?” he asked.
Wu just grinned at this simple, yet benign question. “We have thought about that for years,” he said. “During the war with Vietnam, we tested a series of new anti-ship missiles that we will unleash on the Pacific Fleet. What the Americans do not know is that we have built an armada of drones that we will use to attack the Americans—”
“—What exactly do you mean by a drone armada?” Sebastian interrupted. “How are you going to be able to get past the American anti-aircraft systems? Their Aegis system is nearly impregnable.”
Wu just laughed at that suggestion. The drugs were clearly still having their effect on him. He was almost giddy with excitement of the trap they had laid for the Americans. “We are simply going to overwhelm their system. They may be able to shoot down 500 anti-ship missiles, but can they shoot down 1,000, or 2,000 missiles? No system is impregnable, and the Americans are about to discover that firsthand.”
Mr. Wu laughed some more before continuing, “The Americans believed our attack on their two supercarriers was the best we could throw at them, but we only sent them a small portion of what we have available. We wanted to make them think we were unable to pull off a complex attack to sink their fleet, but the next attack will have a significantly different result.”
As he concluded, his eyes drooped. The side effects of the drug were now in full swing, lulling Wu to sleep before Sebastian had been able to extract everything he was after. As Wu’s head dropped down to his chest and he fell asleep, Sebastian signaled for the guard to take him to a small cell where they would allow him to sleep for a few hours.
When he woke up, he would be given some more of Dr. Roberts’ truth serum, and they would continue their discussion. In the meantime, Sebastian needed to write up what he had learned so far and get this information disseminated up the chain of command, so they could warn the Allies in Korea of what was going to happen next.
Ambush
Liaoyang, China
“Could it possibly get any colder in this miserable place?” Sergeant Ian Slater said, more to himself than anyone else.
The 16th Mechanized Brigade had crossed the Yalu River a couple of days after Christmas. They’d to fight like hell at the river as it was a natural barrier to their advance, but once the ROK forces had broken through, Sergeant Slater’s brigade had punched right through the hole they had created and gotten right into the PLA rear guard units. Within a day, they had rolled up twenty-two kilometers of the enemy line, trapping nearly 19,000 PLA soldiers and then forcing them to surrender. Once the PLA had realized they had multiple American brigades in their rear area, the entire front had collapsed, and they had withdrawn to just outside of Liaoyang, where they had finally stopped the American and ROK forces.
“Sergeant Slater, the captain is on the radio,” announced his radio operator. “He’s trying to reach you, says it’s important.” As soon as he finished speaking, he ducked his head back inside the new vehicle he had been riding in.
Taking one last pull on his cigarette, Ian filled his lungs, letting his body soak up as much nicotine as possible before exhaling it through his nose. He flicked his c
igarette butt on the snow-covered ground and began to walk back to his tracked vehicle. After eight straight days of combat and racing all over the Chinese countryside and small villages and towns, his unit had been enjoying a down day a couple of miles behind the newly established frontlines. They all needed to catch some rest, rearm, and get some new replacement soldiers for the ones who had been either injured or killed.
Slater ducked his head as he stepped back into the track, and his radio man handed him the mic.
“Baker Six, this is Baker Three. How copy? Over,” he said.
As he waited, they heard several low-flying aircraft head over their position towards some unseen target. Moments later, there was a series of thunderous explosions.
“Those must have been off in the distance,” thought Sergeant Slater. “I didn’t feel any rumbling. The impacts must have been at least a mile away.”
“Baker Three, this is Baker Six. Get your platoon ready to move. We’ve been ordered to reinforce Echo Troop. I need your platoon to advance to their position. Make contact with them and then report back to me. How copy?” asked Captain Porter, a bit of urgency in his voice.
“I have to give the captain credit,” thought Slater. “For having been thrown into command of the troop three weeks ago, he’s done a halfway decent job of keeping the unit together and ensuring we didn’t get wiped out doing something stupid. Our troop losses have gone down significantly.”
Slater depressed the talk button on the mic. “That’s a good copy, Baker Six. We’ll be on the road in five mikes. Out.”
With that, he turned to the platoon frequency, ordering, “Everyone, be ready to pull out of your positions and follow my tracks in five mikes.”
Five minutes went by with little activity. Once Sergeant Slater was ready to roll out, he suddenly heard the screams of artillery flying over their heads towards the PLA positions.
“Friendly fire. Hope they smash the crap out of them before we get up there,” Slater thought.
They had just started moving their lead vehicle forward when the area around them suddenly erupted in thunderous explosions. The Chinese army was launching their own counterbattery fire, seeking out the guns that had just been firing on their troops.
“All Baker elements, move out!” Sergeant Slater yelled over the platoon net.
In seconds, their vehicle lurched forward and picked up speed, heading down the dirt path that would lead them to Echo Troop’s position. Fortunately, none of Slater’s vehicles took a direct hit as they made their way out of the artillery barrage and towards the front lines.
As they neared Echo Troop’s positions, the overwhelming percussion of heavy machine gun fire, explosions, and other sounds of war grew in intensity.
“Echo Six, this is Baker Three. We’re approaching your position. Where do you want us to deploy? Over.” Slater hoped the Echo Troop commander would respond quickly. It sounded like the front line might be getting overrun, given the volume of enemy fire.
“Baker Three, this is Echo Six. Move your vehicles to grid CH 7634 6538 and plug the hole in our lines. We have additional air support and artillery fire inbound,” the Echo Troop commander yelled back. In the background, Slater heard the 25mm main gun of the Bradley firing away at some unseen enemy.
“Geez, what the heck have we walked into?” Ian wondered.
He directed the four Bradleys in his platoon to the coordinates given to them and looked at the video display next to the vehicle commander. He saw an M1A2 Abrams battle tank burning, with the tank commander’s body half hanging out of the turret, burned and charred from the fire. Next to the tank were two Bradley vehicles, both torn apart by whatever weapon had hit them. At the berm in front of the destroyed American vehicles were a dozen infantry soldiers, doing their best to lay down suppressive fire against the Chinese infantry soldiers trying to advance towards them.
“Guide our vehicles between those burned-out tanks and tear into those enemy soldiers,” Slater directed. “Also, start looking for enemy tanks and other armored vehicles. If you spot them, take them out first. They’re the priority.”
Ian turned to look at the soldiers behind him. “When we stop, I want everyone to dismount and get yourselves positioned against the berm. Support the soldiers already there and hold the line. Is that understood?” he yelled to them.
“Yes, Sir!” they all yelled back, and they steeled their nerves as they prepared themselves to follow orders.
Slater grabbed the mic and relayed the same orders to the other three Bradleys in his platoon. Within seconds of arriving at the little hill, the enemy fire shifted from the soldiers who had been manning the berm to his four armored vehicles. Dozens and then probably hundreds of rounds started to bounce off the armor turret and body of their vehicle. The gunner in the turret swiveled the gun slightly to the right and fired off a short burst from his 25mm chain gun. He whooped and hollered, letting them know he had just wiped out half a dozen PLA soldiers who had tried to charge the hill.
“Enemy tank identified!” the track commander yelled.
“Switching to TOW!” the gunner shouted. In less than a second, they had acquired the enemy T-99 and had fired their TOW antitank missile, which leapt from the carrying tube and made its way quickly towards the enemy tank.
“Oh my God, he’s turning towards us. He’s going to shoot!” yelled the gunner.
“Hold steady. Our missile is almost there,” replied the tank commander in a much calmer voice.
“Should I even try to get out of the vehicle? I think it may be a bit too late,” Slater thought as he realized he might be about to die in a few seconds if that tank fired first.
Then, miraculously, the track commander yelled to his gunner, “Hit! We got him. Start looking for any additional tanks.”
Seeing that there was nothing Slater could do to help the guys manning the tracks, he grabbed the radio mic and tried to raise Captain Porter again. “Baker Six, this is Baker Three. How copy? Over.”
It took a minute to get a response, but Porter finally replied. “This is Baker Six, I copy. What’s your status, over?”
“Baker Six, we’ve reached the berm that is essentially the front line. We’re encountering massive numbers of enemy soldiers advancing on our position. We’ve destroyed one T-99 and believe there to be many more armored vehicles operating in this area. We’ve identified multiple friendly M1A2s destroyed. Requesting additional armor and infantry support if we’re to hold this position. How copy?” relayed Sergeant Slater.
Roughly thirty seconds went by before he heard a response. He was starting to get nervous as he waited, wondering what was going on at the other end of his call.
“Baker Three, I just received orders that the entire battalion is moving to your position. Stand by for assistance. Air support should also be inbound, so please be prepared. Out.” With that, Captain Porter signed off, and they were officially on their own until the rest of the battalion showed up. They just needed to hold the line until additional help arrived.
Since there was nothing left for Slater to do in the track, he reached over and grabbed his M4 to head out of the back. Fortunately, the snowfall had lifted; however, the temperature had dropped significantly. At last check, it was hovering around 10℉ during the day, and roughly -20℉ or even -30℉ at night. Slater trudged to the berm, where a couple of his soldiers were, and plopped himself down next to them. They were taking turns popping up to fire off three to five rounds at enemy soldiers before dropping below the crest of the hill and moving slightly to the right or left, alternating their firing positions.
Sergeant Slater stood up slightly, placing his head and rifle above the hill line and scanning the horizon for a target. What he saw scared him half to death. No more than 500 meters away from them was a wall of enemy soldiers moving towards them. A line two or three soldiers deep would run forward maybe ten meters and then drop to the ground, while another line of two or three soldiers deep would run past them for ten or twenty meters
and then drop. Each line was leapfrogging each other as they advanced towards the American positions.
“Holy crap, that’s a lot of enemy soldiers,” he thought. “How in the world are we supposed to stop that?”
He aimed his rifle at the incoming horde, firing off a series of ten shots before dropping behind the ridge. Dozens of enemy rounds slammed into the earth, right where he had just been standing.
Soldiers from his platoon lined the berm, pouring as much rifle fire into the advancing enemy as possible. One of his heavy machine gunners swept his weapon back and forth, cutting many of Chinese soldiers down.
“Keep firing! Don’t stop!” Slater yelled to be heard over the roar of gunfire.
Ian popped up one more time, firing into the wave of humanity that kept charging their positions. He saw multiple enemy soldiers go down from the impact of his rounds, but they just kept coming. Slater looked back to the Bradley behind him (which was still firing its main gun into the enemy soldiers) and saw two of the vehicle crew members doing their best to get the TOW launcher reloaded. Just as it looked like they had completed that task, Slater heard a swooshing sound right over his head.
In shocked horror, Slater watched as the Bradley exploded. The two crew members who had been reloading the TOW missiles were simply blown apart, their bodies ripped into multiple pieces as they were thrown into the air.
“Tanks! Dozens of them!” shouted one of the soldiers about ten feet away from Ian.
Sergeant Slater pulled himself over the edge of the ridge and poked his head over to observe for himself. He saw a dozen T-99s heading towards them and a myriad of other infantry fighting vehicles, along with even more waves of soldiers behind them. They were still roughly 1,500 meters off, but it was enough to make his stomach churn.
Slater felt like he was going to throw up. They were already facing thousands of enemy soldiers, who were now less than 200 meters away and advancing quickly.