Occupied Seattle (Occupied Seattle Book 2)

by Christopher Kennedy

  So far, the road block had been a success, and they had already bagged one vehicle full of Chinese soldiers. His troopers had noticed that the Chinese were using black civilian vans to transport their troops, in addition to their military vehicles. When his spotter two miles down the road radioed that one of the black vans was coming, they had been ready for it.

  The driver tried to escape when he saw the road block, but the snipers had shot out the van’s tires while he tried to turn around. When the soldiers in the van came out shooting, they had been met by over 50 American riflemen, nearly all of whom had military marksmanship training. The firefight hadn’t lasted long. The Chinese were surrounded and in the open, while his men all had prepared firing positions. The Americans had taken captive the two wounded Chinese that surrendered; the other ten had been killed. No Americans were even wounded in the action, except for one National Guardsman who cut himself on a piece of broken glass on the roadside.

  The next engagement was shaping up to be more difficult. His spotter had just reported a column of military vehicles approaching from the south that included two tanks. Looking south from the end of the overpass, he could see them approaching. There was a tank in the lead, followed by what looked like an anti-aircraft gun and then nine infantry fighting vehicles (IFVs). A second tank brought up the rear of the column.

  Davidson had expected that the tank would stop a little way down the road and use its gun to blow up the trucks, so he wasn’t surprised when the tank commander did just that. It stopped about 1/4 mile down the road and fired four shots into the trucks that were blocking the northbound lanes and then a final shot into the SWAT van that completed the barricade. That hurt, as it had cost the department a lot of money to acquire. Although it was ‘armored,’ it was never expected to have to face a Chinese main battle tank. The shell that hit it destroyed it.

  Davidson had realized that his men wouldn’t be able to take on the tank with just their rifles, so he had pulled everyone from the barricade. None of his men were hurt in the barricade’s destruction. He watched as the tank stopped about 100 yards short of it and moved to the side of the road, allowing several of the IFVs to pass. As the IFVs reached the remains of the barricade, their back doors opened and a couple of squads of soldiers got out. At the same time, the rest of the soldiers dismounted from the other six IFVs that were still on the other side of the tank. He smiled when he saw that three of the vehicles were sitting on a patch of asphalt that looked wet, even though it hadn’t rained very hard in a couple of days.

  The Chinese soldiers dismounting from those vehicles knew instantly that something was wrong. He could see from their expressions that they smelled it. They began to run.

  “FIRE!” he yelled, and all of the troopers and guardsmen began firing at the dismounted soldiers from the hills along the road. Glass jars of napalm arced out from the overpass, smoking as they fell, to burst on the vehicles and roadway below them. With a “wumpf,” Trooper Maya Chandler lit the stream of gasoline that had been jetting down the side of the hill from a tanker truck they had ‘borrowed.’ The gas had been streaming for the last several minutes, and it had begun to pool on the roadway. The three IFVs parked in it were instantly engulfed in flames, as were the two IFVs near the barricade that had been hit by napalm. All of his men began firing at the soldiers that were trapped between the two fires, killing most of them in the first few seconds.

  With a “boom” that was magnified by the enclosed area, the tank fired its main gun into the overpass. Huge chunks of concrete were thrown into the air, as well as several of his men that he had placed there to throw the napalm jars. The guns from the IFVs also began firing up the hills toward where his men were hiding and he saw several more of his troops get hit.

  “Get off the overpass!” he yelled to the troopers that had survived the first blast and they began running to the west. One paused to light his last jar of napalm and was caught in the blast of the second tank shell. What remained of him was blown off the back of the overpass. Davidson winced.

  He looked back down at the road and assessed the situation. He could see that four of the IFVs were out of commission. Two were burning fiercely from the napalm bombs and two more from the gasoline trap. The third IFV had crawled forward out of the gas, but was on fire. As he watched, some of the ammunition inside it blew up from the heat. That one was done, too, he decided. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the tanks and the rest of the IFVs, who continued to blaze away at the Americans with both their main guns and their machine guns. The anti-aircraft gun also joined the fight, and its four-barreled cannon made a ripping noise as it fired hundreds of rounds up the slope. He saw the barrage hit a sniper team that was picking off the Chinese soldiers on the roadway. As the anti-aircraft gun changed its aiming point, Davidson could see that there wasn’t much left of them.

  His men had destroyed five IFVs and killed about 30 Chinese soldiers, but it was time to go, as the battle began to swing very much in favor of the remaining armored vehicles. The remaining Chinese soldiers that had dismounted further down the road also looked like they were gathering to make an assault up the hillside. The State Patrol had done what it came to do, and he could see that there wasn’t much more to be gained.

  “Retreat!” he yelled, and his men began to melt away back to the civilian world. The troopers on the west side of I-5 ran north toward the Tacoma mall, where they had parked their cars, while the ones on the eastern side ran toward Giaudrone Middle School. Within seconds, they were indistinguishable from any other civilian.

  Not a bad day’s work, thought Davidson as he headed toward his car and the rendezvous. He regretted the loss of seven of his troopers, but knew that the Americans had given far better than they had received. He had some good ideas for their next engagement.

  Boeing Airplane Programs Manufacturing Site, Renton, WA, 1620 PDT

  The USS Ranger roared out of the unoccupied Boeing hangar and onto Lake Washington, with a smiling Wu Tao deftly guiding it on its way. His new best friend, Master Chief Ryan O’Leary had promised him $1,000,000 if he would drive the LCAC up to the Long, get them onboard and then bring them back to the hangar. He hadn’t believed Ryan when he said that the President of the United States would personally guarantee the money…until he had spoken to the president on the phone himself!

  He was very excited to be driving the LCAC again. When he and his crew had been captured, they had expected to be shot once they got back to wherever the Americans had come from. That was what his officers had told him to expect if they were captured, anyway. At a minimum, the Chinese soldiers were going to go to a prisoner-of-war camp for a long time, as he didn’t believe that his country would ransom him back. But when they got back to the giant hangar with all of the aircraft in it, two of the Americans had come and talked to him. Not to question him on things that they could use to attack the Chinese, but just to talk to him and see how he was. One of them, ‘Shuteye,’ could speak his language and translated for the other, whose name was Ryan.

  After finding out about how he had been conscripted by the navy and dragged off from his home, Ryan asked if Wu would be interested in becoming an American citizen. Would he? Very much so! He didn’t have any money, though, and couldn’t speak the language. Those were big problems. The American had said that he would think about it and had come back later and offered him $1,000,000, plus citizenship in the United States if he would just help them get their people back from where they were being held. Wu had to admit that the way they were captured was not honorable, so giving them back was actually an honorable thing. All he had to do was get the Americans to the Long and back, and he was set for life! A new name, a lot of money…set for life! In China, he had been drafted because his parents didn’t have enough money to send him to college or to bribe the officials; now he was going to be a millionaire!

  He hummed merrily to himself as he navigated the LCAC back to the ship.

  “Have you ever seen someone so ha
ppy with himself?” asked Calvin in a loud voice over the roar of the jet engines.

  “No, sir,” yelled Sergeant Chang in his ear. “He’s sure that he is getting a great deal. He even got to speak to the president—do you suppose he ever spoke to the president of the PRC? Unlikely!”

  They were interrupted by BTO, who came running up. “Sir!” he yelled, handing his scoped rifle to Calvin. “Take a look at the ship!”

  They were just rounding Point Glover, and the base was visible four miles away down Sinclair Inlet. Calvin looked through the scope. Although he couldn’t hear them over the roar of the LCAC, he could see a lot of helicopters with their rotors turning on the deck of the LHD with a lot of men getting into them. If they’re coming for us, he thought, this is really going to suck.

  Tapping Wu Tao on the arm, he gave him the signal for slow down. As the throttles came back, the level of noise went down from ‘skull splitting’ to merely ‘mind numbing.’

  “Places everyone!” he yelled.

  PLAN LHD Long, Pier D, Naval Base Kitsap, WA, 1630 PDT

  Lieutenant Commander Lin Gang looked out the tower window as the helicopters began launching. He had a bad feeling about this. When they had first drawn up the sneak attack plans to capture the Americans’ nuclear warheads, he had been a big proponent of the plan. With overwhelming force and surprise on their side, he thought they could get away with it, and they had.

  Now, however, it was over 24 hours later, and no one had been back up to Bangor since the initial attack, so it was impossible to know what the force he was sending would find when they got there. One helicopter had gone by the field earlier in the day on its way to Everett. The pilots didn’t see anyone in the field, but couldn’t be sure about the forest around it, which was heavily wooded.

  He wished that they had left some troops up there the day before, but they only had so many troops to guard things. All of the marines they had brought in the Long were guarding the base at Bremerton, the Seattle-Bremerton Ferry stop, the city of Bremerton, and checkpoints on Highway 3 from the north and south. They were as stretched as they could be to send up 60 soldiers on the helicopters for the mission; the hostages they had captured the day before were now being guarded by sailors, rather than marines.

  He at least felt a little solace in that he had convinced Admiral Zhao Na that the mission should be ‘maximum effort.’ The admiral had authorized the use of four Z-15 helicopters to transport the troops, two Z-8 heavy-lift helicopters to carry the weapons, and all four of the remaining Z-10 attack helicopters to provide security. If the Americans had fortified the area, the attack helos could hopefully keep them at bay while the marines secured the additional nuclear warheads.

  As he watched the helicopters depart, he heard a call on the frequency for well deck operations. “Long Well Deck Control, this is LCAC 1, over,” said the voice of the coxswain.

  “LCAC 1, this is Long Well Deck Control,” replied the well deck supervisor. “Where have you been?” Lieutenant Commander Lin knew that the LCAC had gone missing hours ago, and that it hadn’t been heard from since it went to go pick up one of the original nuclear weapons for return to the ship. The LCAC was assumed to have been sunk by whoever had taken the weapons; they hadn’t had time to search for it yet. Lieutenant Commander Lin looked up Sinclair Inlet and couldn’t see the LCAC…wait, there it was…he could see it following the Seattle-Bremerton Ferry, but the ferry blocked most of it from sight.

  “We had an electrical system failure,” replied the coxswain, whose voice he recognized from long association. “We had to go ashore on the island to the east of Bremerton to conduct repairs. We have a temporary fix in place right now and are returning to the ship for a new LCAC to go complete our mission.” Fat chance, thought Lieutenant Commander Lin, the weapons are all gone. Good thing you weren’t at the university. You’d probably have been killed, too.

  “LCAC 1, Well Deck Control, that mission was aborted. Return to the ship and tie up inside so that you can get your problem fixed.”

  “Well Deck Control, LCAC 1, we are returning to the ship and will proceed inside for maintenance, out.”

  USS Ranger, Naval Base Kitsap, WA, 1635 PDT

  The coxswain hung up the radio’s transmitter and smiled at Shuteye, saying something in Chinese. The Sergeant translated, “He said, ‘See? No problem. These things have electrical problems all the time.’”

  “OK,” said Calvin, “It’s your show, Master Chief.”

  “I’ve got it, sir. No worries,” replied Ryan.

  Calvin went to hide under the tarp with the rest of the platoon, leaving Ryan, Shuteye, and three other Americans visible. The Americans only had four sets of Chinese naval uniforms, plus two sets of coveralls that had been found on the LCAC. Wu Tao was wearing his own uniform, and both Shuteye and Jet were wearing the captured uniforms they had used previously. That left one uniform for Sergeant Daniel “Dreamer” Nguyen, who was of Vietnamese descent and the two sets of coveralls for Ryan and Top. Neither of these men looked Chinese at all, and Top had had to oil his hair to dye it black. With hats on and slouched over like they were working on the broken machinery, no one ought to notice before it was time.

  It had been Ryan’s idea to follow the ferry up the inlet. With the big ship in between them and the Long, it would be difficult for anyone on the ship to get a good look at the LCAC until the ferry pulled off at the terminal. They would have to go the last 1,000 feet or so without cover; hopefully, no one would be looking too closely. Jet had positioned himself between the ship and the two men in coveralls and was giving them an updated description of the approach to the well deck.

  “The stern gate is down,” he said, “and we have the green light to enter. It looks like there is about three feet of water in the well deck. The rest of the well deck that I can see is pretty much empty, except for three people on the catwalk on the right and two on the left. We are going to tie up on the right, where the three men are. Two are holding ropes for us. The other one is supervising. Both men on the left are leaning on the railing; they look like they are just watching. Don’t look up. They’re watching us. They don’t look concerned yet.”

  Shuteye and Dreamer looked up for the men to throw the ropes down to them. As the ropes were coming down, Jet could see the brows of one of the men on the left start to furrow. He was a friend of one of the original sailors and knew that the LCAC had departed with a crew of four; now there were six. “We’re blown!” Jet said. “NOW!” he yelled. Instantly, all of the Americans grabbed their weapons and began firing. Ryan got both of the men on the left side, while Top shot two on the right and Dreamer killed the third. All five used pistols with suppressors, and the muffled reports of the pistols firing couldn’t be heard over the noise of the LCAC’s jet engines shutting down. The rest of the Americans sprang from under the covers and tarps, and they quickly scaled the ladders and secured the control room which looked out onto the well deck through two windows.

  “Ask him why he shut down,” Calvin told Shuteye.

  After a brief conversation, Shuteye translated, “He was told to shut down. If he keeps the motors running, the admiral will get mad about the noise and send someone down to find out what’s going on.”

  “That’s fine, then,” said Calvin, as the rest of the people exited the LCAC.

  The platoon split up. Nine people stayed to ensure they had a ride home. Eight members of the platoon, led by Shuteye and Top, left to go retrieve the dignitaries. Ryan took another six to complete a different mission.

  Bangor Naval Base, WA, 1645 PDT

  Colonel Bart Williamson watched as the attack helicopters came in first, ready to unleash their overwhelming firepower at the first hint of trouble. The commander of the 7th Infantry Division was normally a jovial man, but this morning’s situation was anything but funny. His men and women were out-gunned, and he needed to do something to even the odds. The Chinese could not be allowed to take any of the nuclear warheads. Not while he was in com
mand.

  The helicopters circled the edges of the field, looking for something to shoot, but failed to find his camouflaged men and women hiding in the forest. After several trips around the field, they called in the transport helicopters, and the ones carrying the marines came in first. They flared and touched down and, as the first marines jumped out of them, all hell broke loose. Colonel Williamson wasn’t able to get all 12,000 men and women of the 7th Infantry Division to the field like the Army Chief of Staff promised. He didn’t even get half, or even a quarter of the division in the time available. He did, however, get 2,895 people to the field, and all of them were armed with rifles. Most carried their own deer rifles or those of their friends; others had to go shopping. There wasn’t a sporting goods store or pawn shop within 20 miles of the base that still had a rifle or ammunition left on its shelves. At the signal, nearly all of them fired at once.

  Colonel Williamson had designated about three quarters of the soldiers to target the attack helos, with an average of over five hundred rifles shooting at each of them. Hitting a moving target is hard, and the helicopters were not only moving quickly, but they were also built for combat. Composite armor protected the bottom and the sides of the cockpit, as well as the engines and the fuel tank. The aviators were well protected, too, with thick, bullet-proof glass in the canopy. With that much lead in the air, though, the Americans were bound to hit the helicopters and some of those rounds were eventually going to hit something vital.

  Two helicopters were critically hit on the first volley, one of which had the drive shaft to its aft rotor cut. Without the ability to counter the main rotor’s torque, it rapidly lost all control and began to spin around and around, its gyrations ceasing as it impacted the ground just inside the tree line of the field. The other had several hits close together in one of its main rotor blades, causing it to fail, snapping off and flying through the air like a scythe as centrifugal force threw it away from the helicopter. The attack helicopter went out of control, crashing into the trees and killing three soldiers that had the misfortune to be underneath it. The rotor blade hit once and cart-wheeled into the cockpit of one of the Z-15 helicopters that had just landed, severing the right arm of the pilot-in-command and destroying most of the cockpit’s instrumentation. The copilot bailed out of the cockpit as black smoke began to engulf it.