by James Rosone
By then it was roughly 0900 hours. Their armored chariots rolled down one small road after another as they made their way out of the village. Many of the village inhabitants came out to see them, often lining the roads. Like earlier, some smiled and waved innocently enough. Others stared on in awe, and some oozed hatred at the sight of so many huge American battle tanks. These people had clearly never seen a tank up close, and the size, the creaking noises and the shaking of the ground beneath them gave testament to the awesome power these armored behemoths could project. In Diss’s mind, there really wasn’t anything close to being as impressive as the sight of several hundred main battle tanks rolling through your city in the middle of the morning. Still, Captain Diss made sure Sergeant Cortez was sitting in the gunner’s hatch with his hand on the crew-served weapon, ready in case they needed to use it.
Their next objective was the much larger city of Binzhouzhen, roughly sixty kilometers to the west. With the rest of his company now out of the small city, they resumed their diamond formation and again picked up speed. Despite the faster pace, everyone was on edge, maintaining a high level of vigilance as they moved through more and more farms and possible ambush points.
A squeak over the radio in Diss’s CVC helmet let him know someone was trying to break through on their coms. “Mustang Six, this is Darkhorse Six. How copy?” asked the voice, faint and a little garbled but still understandable. It must be their reconnaissance unit.
“Darkhorse Six, this is Mustang Six. I can’t hear you the best, but go ahead with your message,” replied Captain Diss. He shared a nervous glance with his gunner.
“We’re one kilometer from Binzhouzhen City. We’ve spotted multiple sapper units and missile teams set up on the northeast side of the city. We’re going to hit them with artillery. Recommend your unit advance on the city from the southeast side. Darkhorse Three spotted two T-08 IFVs near the edge of the city. Two kilometers to the southeast of the city, Darkhorse Three also spotted twelve Type 96 tanks, hull down with camouflage on top. How copy?”
Diss thought over his options. Missiles and sapper units awaited on the northern side of the city, and heavy armor on the southern side. He had to think a moment before he determined the best course of action.
“Well, we’re here to destroy tanks,” Diss finally decided. Knowing where the enemy tanks were would made it a lot easier to attack them. Plus, the last thing they wanted to do was run into was a swarm of antitank missiles and rockets that would force them to have to dismount their infantry.
He hit the reply button. “Darkhorse Six, this is Mustang Six. Good copy on the information. Mustang element will go after the T-96s on the southeastern side of the city. Proceed with artillery strike on missile and sapper units to the north. Out.”
Captain Diss switched over to the company net. “Attention all Mustangs, FRAGO follows: we’ve been given a heads-up by our recon guys on an enemy tank formation, approximately two kilometers to the southeast of our next waypoint. We’re going to change formation to a left-facing echelon formation. We’re looking for Type 96 tanks, hull down with camouflage on their turrets. If you spot one, identify it, pass it to the rest of the company, and engage it. Good hunting, Mustangs!”
Diss turned his attention to his crew next. “Cortez, when the shooting starts, I’m going to need you to identify and shoot. I’ll do my best to help when I can, but I’ve also got the rest of the company to manage, so you’re essentially going to have to run the gun for us, OK?” he asked.
“Roger that, Sir. I got it. Winters told me exactly what to expect and what to do. I can handle it,” he replied in a reassuring voice.
Diss took a minute to say a few words to his driver and loader, making sure they felt some love as well, then he switched over to talk with his platoon leaders. He wanted to make sure their platoons were falling in line with the new formation. They were less than four kilometers from making contact.
Less than twenty seconds later, the ground around their tank started to rattle. Then they heard the unmistakable crump, crump, crump of artillery rounds landing nearby. Loud pings and clangs rattled their ears as shrapnel bounced off their armor.
“Tanks to our left!” shouted Cortez. He turned the turret to line up with the target he had found.
Diss looked through his commander’s sight extension, trying to see what Cortez had found. “There you are,” he muttered under his breath as he watched the laser designator light up the turret.
“Tank, 3,100 meters to our nine o’clock. Sabot!” Cortez shouted in an excited voice.
“Sabot ready,” replied Specialist Trey Mann, the loader. He pulled up on the arming handle. They’d already been riding with a sabot round in the chamber.
“All Mustang elements, Type 96 tank identified to my nine o’clock. Identify your targets and fire at will!” shouted Captain Diss. Then he took a deep breath—they were about to go into battle with the People’s Liberation Army for the first time.
Finished with his company address, Diss shouted, "Fire!"
"On the way!" Sergeant Cortez yelled. The enemy tank had just crossed the 3,000-meter mark, the extent of their effective firing range, so he dutifully depressed the firing button.
BOOM!
The cannon fired, recoiling back inside the turret. The vehicle rocked slightly but kept right on charging toward the enemy.
Looking through his commander’s sight, Captain Diss watched their round slam right into the turret of the enemy tank, causing an epic explosion. Pulling the zoom out a bit on his sight, he saw round after round of his other tankers slam into the exposed turrets of the enemy tanks. Nearly every one of them scored a direct hit.
The three enemy tanks that had survived their first volley fired back. However, they were near the extent of their limited range, and all the rounds that came toward Diss and his soldiers either sailed past his tanks or bounced harmlessly off their superior armor.
Specialist Mann slammed another sabot round into the breach of the cannon and pulled up on the arming handle. “Up!” he yelled.
Delta Company’s tanks continued to rumble through the farm fields to the southeast of the city as they closed in on the enemy positions. “Missiles incoming!” shouted Cortez as their vehicle ran over a rough patch of land, jostling them around a bit.
“Black Six, this is Red Four. We’re spotting swarms of Red Arrow-12 AT missiles heading toward us from the city to our right flank,” explained Lieutenant Spade. “How do you want us to respond?”
“Crap, that’s the last thing we needed right now—antitank missiles,” Captain Diss murmured.
“All Mustangs, Red Four is reporting antitank missiles swarming us from the city on our right flank. I want everyone to activate your missile countermeasure devices and Trophy systems. Some of these missiles are going to get through the MCD, so let’s hope these Trophy systems are as good as the Israelis say they are. In the meantime, I want everyone to shift our movement further southwest into the enemy lines to give us some more distance from that city,” Captain Diss ordered.
Crump, crump, crump. Boom!
More explosions vibrated the ground beneath them, this time moving them so much that the company of tanks nearly veered directly into each other.
“ZBDs to our front! 2,200 meters!” shouted Sergeant Cortez. They were less than a thousand meters from the first line of enemy tanks they had wiped out earlier; now they were pressing into the second and third layer of enemy vehicles.
“Loader, HEAT!” shouted Diss. He zeroed in on the newest threat to his command.
Specialist Mann grabbed a round from a different stash this time, slamming it into the opening as fast as possible. “Up!” he yelled.
“HEAT ready!” shouted Cortez.
“Fire!” Diss shouted. Then he immediately began to look for other targets nearby.
“On the way!” Cortez exclaimed. The cannon fired again, and the cabin of the tank was filling with fumes.
“Incoming missile!” Diss
shouted seconds after they had fired. He quickly reached over and flipped on the MCD and Trophy system.
“That missile’s gonna be close!” yelled Cortez. He grabbed desperately for something, anything, to brace for the impact.
Seconds later, the Trophy system activated, firing out its barrage of ball bearings at the incoming missile. BAM…the tank got peppered with shrapnel and pieces of the broken-up missile as its sheer velocity threw the remains of its shell into their armored hull.
“Wow, that Trophy system really works!” exclaimed Specialist Mann. He had the wide grin of a man who has been given a second chance at life.
Sergeant Cortez just shook his head, his face a little white from the near-death experience.
Captain Diss, unaware of his gunner’s ghostly appearance, said, “Take over, Cortez, I need to get back on the company net.” He looked at his video display of where his platoons were on the map.
“Red Four, this is Black Six,” Diss began. “Give me a status on that missile swarm that was headed your way.”
A couple of seconds went by before he heard a reply. “Black Six, this is Red Four. The MCD and Trophy system worked amazingly. I lost Red Three, but he was the only one to have taken a hit out of what had to be ten or more missiles fired at us.”
“Good copy, Black Six, out.”
Next, Captain Diss called out to his FIST team for help. “Black Eight, this is Black Six. I need two fire missions. How copy?”
“Black Six, this is Black Eight. Go for first fire mission.”
“Fire mission, fire mission. Grid NC 7642 5642. One round, ground burst HE. Tanks and ZBDs hull down. Stand by for second fire mission. How copy?”
“Black Six, this is Black Eight. Good copy on first fire mission. Go for second mission.”
“Fire mission, fire mission, Grid NC 3253 7642. Six rounds, ground burst HE. PLA missile teams hunkered down at the edge of Hatong Expressway. How copy?”
“Black Six, stand by on that last fire mission.” A few minutes went by before the FIST team came back on. “I’m getting a negative approval on that last mission. It’s in a heavily populated civilian center. Can you readjust fire mission over?”
“Stand by, Black Eight,” replied Diss angrily.
He changed channels to his company net. “Red Four, this is Black Six. I need you to contact Black Eight and relay the coordinates you saw that enemy missile swarm originate from. Apparently, the coordinates I gave them are in a heavily populated civilian area. Get them a better grid, and lay four to six rounds on top of them. 1-5 and 1-9 Cav are following right behind us, and I don’t want them getting ambushed by that group that hit you. How copy?”
A couple of beeps could be heard on the SINCGARS radio before it synced. “Copy that, Black Six. I’ll get them for you. Out,” came the reply.
BOOM!
Their cannon recoiled once more as Sergeant Cortez continued to call out targets and Specialist Mann kept loading the gun.
Captain Diss continued the work of managing his platoons until he was stopped by an incoming call. “Black Six, this is Mustang Six. How copy?” It was his battalion commander, breaking his train of thought.
“Good copy. Send,” he replied. His mind was racing a million miles a minute just trying to keep track of his platoons and the artillery mission he had just called in. They were quickly approaching the second enemy line of defense.
“Good job on finding a way around Binzhouzhen and the ski resort,” Lieutenant Colonel Johnson praised him. “God only knows what the PLA had waiting for us along the highway. I’m going to need you to continue to scout us a way either back on the Tonga Highway or the expressway—whichever road you think will get us to our objective without taking a ton of losses. How copy, Black Six?”
“Good copy, Sir. I don’t suppose it’s possible to get a couple of scout vehicles sent up to my position?” Captain Diss asked.
“That’s a negative. Scout units are further to our south and north, screening for us. This pocket of tanks and ZBDs your company engaged appear to be the only hostile units in our immediate area. Out.”
With his orders adjusted for the time being, Diss pulled up their navigation system and plotted in the new waypoints. Once they were entered, he sent them out to the rest of his platoons so they could sync their systems with his.
They were less than forty kilometers from the city of Harbin. As they got closer to the major population center, their battalion would again swing south to avoid civilians as they pressed southeast using the various Chinese highway and expressway systems. Then they’d race just northwest of Changchun, where they would again avoid the major city.
They stopped for several hours to refuel and rearm before pressing on again. Only this time, they broke west of the city until they came to the outskirts of Bayantalazhen. There they waited for the rest of the division to catch up before they started their next drive. That stretch would lead them around the Jinzhou-Fuxin Line, giving them a clear shot at Beijing.
Chapter 11
Operation Warhammer
Near Mirs Bay, China
Sitting in the wardroom of the USS Portland amphibious transport dock, newly-promoted Lieutenant Colonel Tim Long could sense the apprehension in the air from his officers and senior NCOs. They were about to embark upon what would, in all reality, be the bloodiest campaign of the war to date—the invasion of mainland China. After a lot of changes to the original invasion plans over the last six months, it had finally been settled that the Allies would focus on the capture of several key Chinese cities and provinces as opposed to their initial objective of driving on Beijing and dividing the country up. It was hoped that this change in strategy would bring about a much swifter end to the war than the original plan President Gates had approved.
Tim Long was still getting used to commanding a full battalion; six months ago, he had been in charge of a company. Due to attrition in the officer ranks and the continued expansion of the Marines, the Corps had a massive shortage of officers and NCOs to continue filling out the ranks of the new units, and a lot of battlefield promotions had been going around.
Nevertheless, Lieutenant Colonel Long was there in the wardroom, and he decided he’d better make the best of it. He cleared his throat. “This is probably going to be the last time we all meet together for the next few days. It’s going to get hairy once the action starts, so I want to make sure everyone fully understands what’s expected of them and our overall objective,” Long said. His men leaned forward, listening intently.
“Our battalion has been given the task of capturing the Yantian International Container Terminal and the harbor. This is going to be the 6th Marines’ primary beachhead, so we need to secure this facility quickly. The PLA is going to throw everything they have at us to keep us from seizing this critical port. Knowing that, we’ve devised a plan that I believe will work.”
He pulled up some maps on the video monitor. “McKnight’s Never Company is going to air-assault in and secure Kuk Po Lo Wai Park for 1/10 Marines, who’ll be arriving via LCACs. We’re getting the entire battalion of artillery to come along with us. That gives us thirty 155mm howitzers for fire support.”
Several officers let out low whistles, and others nodded in approval.
Long turned to look at the man who’d be in charge of protecting this critical brigade-level asset. “Captain McKnight, it’s going to be imperative that Never Company holds the surrounding hills and approaches. The entire brigade is going to be depending on that fire support. I can’t stress enough how important holding your positions will be,” Lieutenant Colonel Long asserted.
McKnight nodded, adding, “You can count on us, Sir. No one’s getting past us.” McKnight was a Marine reservist who had joined Long’s command four months ago after 4th Battalion had officially formed. In the civilian world, he was a high school wrestling coach in the fall and a track and field coach in the spring. He was tough as nails and had quickly earned the respect of his men.
Colo
nel Long relaxed a bit at McKnight’s confidence and turned next to Captain Hammermill. “Oscar Company has the critical task of securing the beach near Boluoshan. It places you opposite the port we need to secure. Come hell or high water, you have to lock down those facilities as quickly as possible. Eliminate any threats and then push the perimeter out. The Navy’s going to bring in a Ro-Ro ship that’ll start offloading our LAVs and tanks.”
Hammermill responded, “You’ve got it, Sir.”
They spent the next two hours going over every element of the plan in detail, asking questions and making sure everyone knew what was required of them. Within twenty-four hours of landing, they’d be replaced by their sister battalion, 3/6 Marines. Then they’d head inland to work on securing the next set of critical ports around Chik Wan in the Shenzhen Bay area. This would completely isolate Hong Kong from the mainland and make it much easier to secure. It would also give them the necessary port facilities to quickly offload the rest of the division’s equipment and get them in the fight faster.
*******
The V-22 Osprey hugged the water as it approached the dark landmass. Every now and then, the pilot would jink to the right and then veer back to the left, just in case an enemy antiaircraft gun was lying in wait for them. In seconds, they were over Grass Island. They made their way toward Plover Cove Country Park and their final objective. Looking off in the distance, the pilots spotted tracer fire starting to lift off from Tong Yan Chung, where the port was.
The pilots deftly kept the Osprey just above the water and then the treetops, doing their best to keep themselves from becoming visible to the enormous amount of antiaircraft fire that had started to saturate the early-morning sky. Shortly after making landfall, the first several Ospreys flared their noses up and settled their giant tiltrotor aircraft down on mainland China. In seconds, thirty-two Marines rushed off. The dust and grass of the empty field before them would soon be turned into a massive artillery firebase.