by James Rosone
“It’s not just that we lost those soldiers, which would be horrible enough—we needed those transports to keep ferrying men and supplies behind enemy lines,” he’d explained. “Let me clear this up for you. In no uncertain terms, if another loss like this occurs during the airborne operation, I will relieve you both on the spot.”
They had assured him that this wouldn’t happen again. Admiral Richardson said he’d ordered two additional carrier airwings to beef up air cover for the remaining transports and told him he’d ensure the ground commander had at least one full air wing available for air support until they were relieved by the ground forces from the ports. Still, General Bennet was worried. He continued pacing.
Finally, Bennet went to find his J3, and spotted him standing next to a bank of radios and computers. When he finished making his way over to them, he simply asked, “Did they make it?”
His J3 looked up and nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Yes, Sir! We just spoke to the pilot of the last transport. They all made it and the paratroopers are on the ground. They’re turning back to base now.”
Several soldiers exchanged high fives at that news. General Bennet allowed himself to relax a bit, although the wait wasn’t totally over. This operation had been a huge gamble, and it wasn’t totally in the bag just yet. They still had to get a third wave of transports in to finish off the PLA forces, and then another wave to land their extra ammunition, water, medical supplies and everything else the 9,000-man force would need to hold their ground for the next ninety-six hours.
“Excellent work,” Bennet allowed himself to say. “I’m glad to see my talk with the Navy had the desired effect. Now to the ports—how are operations going there?”
His J3 signaled for Bennet to follow him over to the map board he had set up on the wall. “The Royal Marines have secured the entire island and port facilities of Yangshan with few casualties. I think we caught the PLA by surprise when we landed forces there because they had a very small garrison of soldiers for what is truly a prize target. With the entire port facility in our control, the Navy’s gone ahead and pushed the security perimeter out and brought in the roll-on, roll-off ships and heavy transports.
“The King's Royal Hussars of the 12th Armored Infantry Brigade are being offloaded now. That’ll give us three squadrons of Challenger tanks in a couple of hours. The rest of the 12th Brigade should be offloaded by midnight.” He held up a hand. “As soon as an intact unit is offloaded and paired up with their crews, they’re moving off the island and linking up with the Israeli forces holding the other end of the bridge. The 12th’s main objective is to hold the bridgehead with the Israelis until the rest of our ground forces can get offloaded.”
General Bennet smiled at the preemptive answering of his question. “How are things going at the Shanghai Pudong Airport? I heard the fighting there had turned fierce.”
“The Rangers captured the airport without much of a problem,” the J3 explained. “There was some resistance from a local military unit that was a few blocks away, but nothing the Rangers couldn’t neutralize. The entire 82nd Airborne Division has finally arrived. We had to use a lot of commercial airliners to get them all in, but we did it. Fortunately, we didn’t have any enemy fighter planes try to interdict our effort either.”
Pausing for a second to look at the map, Bennet saw where the paratroopers had expanded the perimeter, and the locations of the enemy units they had spotted up to this point. From his perspective, it looked like a battalion of PLA tanks were slowly snaking their way through the city of Shanghai heading right for the paratroopers.
His eyes studied the map a moment more before he said, “My concern is this large enemy force that’s headed to the airport—it looks like at least two full battalions of PLA infantry and God only knows how many militia forces are moving in that direction. There’s a major battle brewing, less than a few hours from starting. Do we have enough forces on the ground to handle it? What sort of armor support do we have to help them?”
“All three artillery regiments have been offloaded at the airport, along with the division’s attack helicopter squadrons; the division packs more than enough punching power to hold the airport against a substantially larger force than what is bearing down on them, Sir,” he answered confidently. “By this time tomorrow, we’ll have two full divisions of armor on the ground, along with three divisions of infantry. In three days, we’ll have five armored divisions and three more infantry divisions. Unless the PLA somehow mobilizes the population of Shanghai to take up arms against us, they just don’t have enough forces in the region that can push us out. By the time any substantive forces do arrive, we’ll have landed over 200,000 soldiers and it’ll be a moot point. They won’t dislodge us.”
General Bennet thought for a moment about what his operations staff had concluded and felt a bit more at ease about the situation. Things were certainly still fluid, and a lot could change, but they had the momentum on their side right now, and they’d achieved complete and utter surprise with their attack on Shanghai.
“The question now is, will the Marines further south capture the critical province of Guangdong and hold it?” he wondered. So far, the fighting had been absolutely brutal there, with the PLA resorting more and more to using poorly trained and equipped militia forces to overrun the Marines. In some cases, that strategy had worked, which only further spurred on their use by the PLA. With casualties mounting, it was becoming a grave concern for the President and the Joint Chiefs back home as to whether or not that offensive should continue.
If they held the ground they’d captured up to this point, it’d put them just shy of taking over the manufacturing centers they had originally invaded the province to destroy in the first place. In Bennet’s opinion, at this point, they were pot-committed and needed to see it through to the end. Another 80,000 Marines would be filtering into the province over the next couple of days—he hoped that would be enough forces to capture their objectives within the next week. Once Guangdong Province and Shanghai were firmly in the Allies’ control, then the United States would finally reach out to the Chinese government and offer terms of surrender.
“Just a few more weeks and this bloody war will be over,” Bennet hoped.
*******
Fengxian, China, Eight Kilometers West of the Allied Beachhead
Taking advantage of the lull in the fighting, Staff Sergeant Moshe Dayan savagely devoured his Israeli version of an MRE. He was famished—he definitely hadn’t eaten much in the last twenty-four hours.
In between scarfing down bites of food, Dayan and his platoon mates also reloaded empty magazines for their rifles. A couple of the privates had returned ten minutes ago with several crates of rifle ammo and more grenades. They had been running low on ammo after the last enemy charge an hour ago.
One of the young corporals paused eating and looked up at Dayan for a second with a quizzical look on his face. “Sergeant Dayan, how can the enemy keep charging our positions like they are? I mean, how do they not break when they see so many of their fellow soldiers getting cut down like that?” he asked.
The other soldiers in his platoon stopped what they were doing and looked at Dayan, waiting to see what he would say. Even the captain nearby had stopped reloading his magazines to listen to his response.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Sergeant Dayan looked back at the corporal who had asked the question, and then to the rest of the soldiers in the room. “They fight like this because we’re invading their homeland. It’s no different than us. If someone attacked our homeland, we’d fight just as hard and just as viciously.
“The difference between the PLA soldiers we’re fighting and the Allied force we’re a part of is we didn’t start this war. We didn’t invade dozens of countries seeking conquest. We fight not as conquerors, but as liberators—liberators of a repressive communist regime that would seek to impose its version of government on the rest of the world.
“We’ve all se
en the social media campaign of ‘social credits’ and how we can use technology to censor ‘hate speech’ and political dissent. It’s all a lie to sell us on a form of government and system that would steal our freedom, our ability to politically disagree with each other, all in the name of conformity. No, I won’t let my children grow up in a world or country that won’t respect other people’s views and opinions. I may not agree with you or even like you, but I’ll always value your right to your opinion, and I will fight and die to make sure you and your family will always be free to express that opinion without government persecution.”
When Staff Sergeant Moshe Dayan finished his little impromptu speech, a man walked in from behind them and clapped, and so did two other people. When the platoon turned around to find the source of the applause, they all jumped to their feet. Sergeant Dayan stood ramrod straight. “General Barak, we had no idea you were visiting the front,” he said. “My apologies if I spoke out of turn.”
Brigadier General Sami Barak just smiled, beaming with pride as he walked up to Staff Sergeant Dayan. He placed both hands on his shoulders, looking the man in the eye. “I couldn’t be prouder to command such men as you, Staff Sergeant. Your wisdom and courage are why Israel as a country has a bright and long history ahead of it.”
The general then turned to face the rest of the paratroopers as he kept one hand on Dayan’s shoulder. “Men, I know the last twenty-four hours have been hard on you, and the last twelve hours have been horrific since the PLA started sending in human wave assaults against us…I’m not going to lie to you and tell you it’s going to get easier. It’s not. The enemy is in its final death throes, and as such, they are desperate.”
The general then moved over to a chair and took a seat, signaling for everyone else to do likewise. When the rustling ceased, he resumed speaking. “The most recent intelligence passed to us by the Americans says the Chinese have mobilized a massive militia force several kilometers away. That force is going to move and attack our positions in the next hour, along with a battalion of T-99 tanks and two battalions of motorized regular army infantry. This is it—the big attack that they think will break through our positions and drive us back to the ports.
“What I can tell you is that even as we speak, Allied warplanes are on their way to bomb the hell out of them before they even get to us. However, when they do arrive, they’re going to come at us with a fervor like nothing we’ve seen before. The PLA has been spreading lies to their people, telling them that the Allies are systematically killing their women and children in the occupied parts of the cities. Even though nothing could be further from the truth, this deception is motivating tens of thousands of people to grab a rifle, shovel, or knife to come at us and try to kill us.
“An hour ago, the British 12th Armored Infantry Brigade began to move to our position. Even now, their tanks and infantry fighting vehicles are filtering into the city and our lines to help us hold our positions. When the enemy does attack, they will help us beat back their advances. Once the PLA has spent themselves on our lines, we will go on the offensive. General Bennet has given our brigade and the British 12th the task of fighting our way to a captured Chinese airfield 180 kilometers inland. Right now, a 9,000 man British and French airborne force is holding ground there. They are surrounded and deep behind enemy lines…we will break through the enemy positions here and relieve them.
“Once we’ve broken through the enemy lines here, the British 20th Armored Infantry Brigade will link up with us, along with the German 21st Panzer Brigade. To support our efforts, the American 42nd Infantry Division will secure the ground behind us and act as a reserve force in case we need them.” The general paused for a second, letting the information sink in. It was unusual for the general to share this level of detail with a platoon of grunts, but Sergeant Dayan reasoned that seeing the big picture would help them all to fight harder.
“You guys can do this,” General Barak continued. “You’ve got one of the best company commanders in the brigade and probably the smartest, toughest staff sergeant in the airborne to lead you. I’m counting on you all, and so is our country and the rest of the world. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get moving. It was a pleasure being able to talk with you all.” He stood, as did all the other soldiers out of respect. Then the general’s two escorts led him to the door that would take him down the stairs and out of their building.
The soldiers stood there, momentarily frozen, a bit in shock that their commanding general would stop by and have such an open and frank discussion with them.
Finally, Staff Sergeant Dayan spoke up. “OK, enough lollygagging,” he announced. “We have work to do. Finish eating and getting your ammo sorted. I want these window positions ready for the next assault. Get those extra Claymores set up in front of those barricades we have downstairs, and make sure first platoon has enough hand grenades. It’s our job up here to make sure those guys down there don’t get overrun. Understood?”
His gruff orders sent the platoon back into their battle rhythm. Nearly an hour went by as the soldiers listened to outgoing artillery and mortar fire head toward the enemy. The constant sound of explosions and dull thudding became intermixed with the sounds helicopters and warplanes flying overhead. It was very difficult to attack an enemy army inside a city. Many of the Chinese soldiers simply moved into the buildings or moved along the edges of them, making it very hard to spot them, and even harder for artillery fire to hit them. Most of the artillery ended up slamming into the roofs or sides of apartment buildings. While the projectiles certainly caused a lot of damage, they were also indiscriminate in who they killed; more often than not, the artillery also led to a lot of civilians being killed or injured.
“Here they come!” shouted a voice over the radio. Dayan’s men had a couple of snipers placed on the upper floors of the office building they were in; it was their job was to find the officers or men who appeared to be the leaders of the army or militia forces and take them out.
Staff Sergeant Dayan walked over to the window and leaned up against the side of the wall. He peered out, spotting the lines of enemy soldiers moving along the edges of the building two or three blocks away. Traveling in the center of the road, was something of grave concern—a T-99 battle tank was steadily making its way toward their barricade. The metal tracks creaked and cracked against the road. The deep rumbling of its diesel engine was the unmistakable roar of a main battle tank. Suddenly, the tank stopped, swiveled its turret to face the barricade and fired.
Boom. Bang!
The explosion blew apart a car the Israelis had parked in the center of the road. Then the turret turned slightly and fired again.
BOOM, BANG!
The next vehicle in the barricade was obliterated, sending flame and shrapnel in all directions.
“Someone take that tank out before he blows our entire defense apart!” shouted their captain into the radio.
Pop…swoosh…BANG.
A missile flew out of the fifth-floor window above them, streaking like man-made lightning toward the T-99. It slammed into the roof of the turret, the thinnest part of the tank’s armor, and the shape charge blew its deadly contents directly into the crew compartment. The internal ammunition cooked off, and in fractions of a second, the turret of the tank blasted toward the sky.
Then several loud whistles sounded, which sent a shiver down the spines of every soldier defending the line. A mighty roar of hundreds, maybe even thousands of people could be heard as the street in front of them filled with people, all screaming at the top of their lungs as they charged, fire and hatred burning in their eyes as they sought to close the distance.
Ratatat, ratatat.
The light and heavy machine guns of the Israeli positions opened up on the crowd, cutting down the first several ranks of attackers like a scythe. Yet for every soldier that fell to the ground, another took their place as they continued to charge forward.
Sergeant Dayan looked down the sight of his rifle and con
tinued to pull the trigger time and time again at the mass of humanity that was charging toward them. In less than a couple of minutes, the enemy had made it to the remains of the vehicle barricade, which was now burning. When they reached that position, the soldiers of First and Third Platoon who were on the ground level detonated their Claymores.
When the mines went off, it was as if some giant invisible hand just flattened the first four or five rows of enemy soldiers. In that brief second, the mob halted their advance, but then more whistles could be heard, and they resumed their charge. More enemy soldiers from further behind them surged forward.
“My God, how can they keep coming like this?” thought Sergeant Dayan. Truthfully, the way the Chinese kept attacking in the face of all of certain death was impressive to him, despite the speech he’d given not too many minutes ago.
“Keep shooting, men!” he shouted. “We have to keep them from overrunning our guys on the ground floor!” Looking down the line to check on his guys, he saw the ground was becoming completely covered in empty shell casings from their rifles.
One by one though, his guys were starting to get hit. The façade of the front of their building was becoming riddled with bullets. It was statistically only a matter of time until some of the incoming enemy rounds found the soft flesh of his men and either killed or wounded them. When one of his soldiers hit the ground, a medic would run up to him, grab him by the back handle of his body armor and pull him away from the wall, deeper into the building, so he could begin providing first aid.
Just when Sergeant Dayan didn’t think they were going to be able to hold the line, a British Challenger tank fired a canister round into the mob, cutting a huge swath of the Chinese soldiers down. Then a company worth of British soldiers ran forward and shored up the Israeli lines, and more British armored vehicles joined the fray.