Occupied Seattle (Occupied Seattle Book 2)

by Christopher Kennedy

  Another person walked into the house. While Tom didn’t recognize the uniform of the person, he did recognize the aura of authority emanating from him. He carried himself like someone that was used to being in charge and to being obeyed. The man came to stand in front of the Sommers family and said in good English, “I am Captain Du Jun. One of your neighbors has indicated to us that you have had some military men here today, and we would like to know what they were doing.”

  Sara spoke up impulsively before either her mother or father could say anything. “One of them is my boyfriend,” she explained. “He came over with a few of his friends to say ‘hi.’”

  “I see,” said the captain, “and why were they in uniform?”

  Sara hesitated slightly and said, “They were in uniform because they were out camping over the weekend in the deep woods. They didn’t realize that you had taken over, and it would look odd to be in uniform. We told them to go change, so they left.”

  “So, you have to be in a military uniform in order to camp in the United States?” asked the captain.

  “No, you don’t,” said Sara, “but it helps to be in camouflage if you are out stalking deer to get ready for the upcoming hunting season. That way they can’t see you as easily.”

  “I’m sure it does,” replied the captain. He could almost believe her, but something about the story seemed a little wrong. When you added to it the slight hesitation she showed when she answered, it seemed like she might be hiding something. Perhaps the Chinese agent that had reported this family had been correct that they were subversives. If so, a night of sleeping on a concrete floor, followed by a session with the interrogation squad ought to loosen up their tongues.

  “OK, I believe you,” he said. The family sagged visibly. “That is why I am going to take you to our headquarters, so you can call this boyfriend and prove to my Major that you are telling the truth.” He could see it in the way their faces fell when he crushed their hopes that they were hiding something. Whatever it was, he was sure they would get every last bit of information out of them in the morning.

  “Take them back to headquarters!” he ordered.

  KIRO-TV, Channel 7, Seattle, WA, 2305 Pacific Daylight Time

  “In local news, workers in Seattle and Tacoma celebrated their liberation from the oppression of the American government,” read KIRO’s anchorman, Danny Rizzoli. The broadcast showed a large Chinese flag being unfurled from the top of the Space Needle in downtown Seattle, and then cut to a group of Americans cheering and applauding. “Workers are also looking forward to better pay and working conditions under the Chinese, as well as a better standard of living for everyone in the region.”

  Rizzoli looked up from the papers on his desk. “I’m not going to read any more of this crap…” he said, but was interrupted as a burst of rifle fire hit him in the chest. In the control booth, the Chinese Public Affairs officer pushed the ‘kill’ button before Rizzoli’s words reached the end of the seven-second tape delay. Based on some of Rizzoli’s earlier comments, he had kept his finger over the button the entire broadcast, ready to terminate it at a moment’s notice if Rizzoli said something he shouldn’t. The show went smoothly to a commercial.

  When the audience came back from commercial, only the co-host, Anna St. Cloud, was at the anchor desk. Although she looked scared, she followed the script for the rest of the broadcast and there were no more problems. The cameramen kept her face in close, so that the audience couldn’t see the red stains on her white blouse. The Public Affairs officer was sure the drying blood provided an excellent reminder for Ms. St. Cloud to stick to the script, though.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Four: Morning, August 21, 2018

  Team Calvin, E.J. Roberts Park, North Bend, WA, 0100 PDT

  The neighborhoods around Roberts Park had been as prepared as possible for the coming conflict. Sara had done her impression of a Girl Scout Cookie salesperson on Merritt Place, warning the four houses that were closest to the potential danger zone. Instead of walking around in the two cul-de-sacs where the missile transporters were, which might have raised the Chinese suspicions, Sara called her friend that lived there and had her warn the neighbors. Over the course of the next couple of hours, families went out for walks and just kept going, or went out to the movies, or to get groceries, or a variety of other errands that had suddenly become important.

  The neighborhood families left lights on and set up timers, where able, to make it seem like they had returned, especially in upstairs windows where the Chinese wouldn’t be able to see. While the houses seemed occupied, there was only one person still remaining in the 25 houses closest to the battle zone. Tyson Schattenkerk, a part time reporter for the local paper, the Snoqualmie Valley Record, had stayed in his house overlooking the missile transporter in the Taylor Place cul-de-sac. He also had a good view of the large field behind his house, where some of the other missile vehicles were, as well as the tents of the 100 or so Chinese soldiers that had taken up residence in the area. He had his low light cameras out and was hoping to get some good photos of the conflict that he could sell and make a fortune on.

  The members of the platoon had left the mall an hour and a half earlier after getting a short nap. Marginally better rested, they had split up to go to their starting points in small groups. They didn’t want to attract attention, so they had to be off the roads by the midnight curfew.

  Calvin waited on a roof in the northeast corner of the area of operations. Untrained in this method of warfare, he would have been more of a hindrance than a help. Still, he had a rifle with a night scope and could help spot movement from the roof. He was also far enough out of the way that he could run for it if things went badly, while the rest of the platoon ‘tactically withdrew.’ From where he lay, peering over from the opposite side of the roof’s peak, he was able to see the majority of the large field in which the Chinese were camped. He was located on the edge of a tree line, which ran straight away from him. The field extended to the left of him for about 1,000 feet, with the neighborhoods and then E.J. Roberts Park to the right. He couldn’t see into the park or the neighborhood because of the trees, but had a good view of the field.

  Now that they’d had a little more time to study it, the platoon had found all of the main pieces of the missile system. The system’s radars were located on the far side of the field from Calvin; from there, they had a good line of sight down the valley to the east, which would prevent aircraft from attacking along that axis. The command truck, as they had discovered previously, was still located in front of him along the tree line of the neighborhood, tucked up into the backyard of one of the houses. The missile transporters were scattered throughout the area in good cover, with two hidden in the trees of the park, two more on the park’s two tennis courts, two hidden in the tree line next to the field and the final two located in the cul-de-sacs of the neighborhood.

  The supply trucks were parked in the southwest corner of the field, inside a shed that was part of a cluster of three large metal farm buildings. Those buildings seemed to house the majority of the comings and goings of the troops; the local command structure appeared to be located in the barn that was the largest of the three buildings. There was also a farmhouse located to the south of the buildings. It was unknown whether the Chinese officers had taken it over and were sleeping there, or if they were staying in the barn.

  Calvin looked at his watch, 0114.

  “I wish you’d stop doing that,” whispered BTO from a little further along the roof. “Every time you look, you make a small bit of light. Sooner or later, someone’s going to see it, and we’re pretty exposed up here.”

  “Yup,” agreed Tiny lying next to him.

  The sniper team was used to waiting; sometimes missions called for them to be in position for days prior, where they had to wait patiently just for the opportunity to get a shot. Sometimes the target never showed, and it was all for naught. Either way, sniper teams either learned patience, or they found
a different warfare specialty. Being a sniper wasn’t for everyone. “Sorry,” said Calvin. “Never done this before, and I’m kind of nervous.”

  “Good, you should be,” whispered back BTO. “Now, shut up!” He thought about it a second and realized what he had just told his platoon leader. “I mean, please shut up, sir!” he corrected in a whisper.

  Rather than say anything else, Calvin just nodded slowly, showing that he got the point. BTO re-focused his attention on the field, scanning for targets. Calvin watched for a couple of seconds and then nearly wet himself when the walkie talkie vibrated in his pocket.

  “Be ready,” advised BTO quietly. “Here we go.”

  Team Twin, E.J. Roberts Park, North Bend, WA, 0115 PDT

  The platoon had planned for the twins to initiate the attack. The brothers had positioned themselves near a little league baseball field to the south of the field and had already loaded their two RPG-69 launchers. Both of them would fire a rocket in the initial barrage; after that, it was Bad Twin’s turn to be shooter, and Good Twin would be his loader. Bad Twin looked down the infrared sight at the barn, going through everything he knew about the system. Just like the venerable Russian RPG-7, from which the Chinese had reverse-engineered the RPG-69, the system was a low-cost, easy-to-use weapon with significant firepower. The launcher had a 40mm tube, but could fire a variety of projectiles that were much larger. The launcher and sight mechanism were fairly light, weighing only 18 pounds. The standard 85mm anti-tank rocket would have weighed an additional five pounds…but that wasn’t what he had loaded.

  Instead, both he and his brother had 120mm WPF 2004 rockets, which would get the party off to a really big bang. The WPF 2004 was a recent introduction to the Chinese arsenal that weighed two pounds more than the normal rocket and had a thermobaric, or fuel-air explosive, warhead. These rockets detonated with the same power as five pounds of high explosive and were devastating in close quarters, especially if fired into a building.

  Both brothers were aiming at buildings.

  Bad Twin was shooting at the big barn on the left, and Good Twin at the vehicle storage building on the right. Bad Twin counted down, and they launched at the same time. The rockets arched over the road, penetrated the sides of the thin aluminum frames and detonated inside. Calvin had selected these weapons to lead off the attack because the thermobaric warheads produced an overpressure wave capable of collapsing lightly constructed buildings.

  The rockets functioned as designed. With a tremendous explosion, the building holding the vehicles was completely leveled. Half of the barn also collapsed, although the beams at the right end of the barn still stood, holding up that end.

  Both brothers paused a second to look at what they had just done. Corporal ‘Reggie’ Wayne, standing a few feet away from them to provide covering fire, heard one of them, probably Bad Twin, mumble ‘cool,’ and then they were back at it, loading and firing rockets as fast as Private First Class Hector ‘Macho’ Carrasquillo, the fourth member of the team, could spot for them. Although the maximum range of the system was listed as 500 meters for the normal rocket and 250 meters for the heavier WPF 2004 rocket, accurate firing was difficult at ranges over 300 meters. Therefore, they had closed to about 150 meters for the shots at the barns to make sure they hit them on the first volley. This meant that they were also well within range of return rifle fire, and shots began to ring out.

  The first reload that Bad Twin stuffed into his launcher was an anti-personnel high explosive incendiary rocket. This weapon was used for killing enemy soldiers and had 900 steel balls and 2,500 incendiary pellets that scattered over a 15 meter radius on detonation. He fired this one to within about 10 meters of the guard he had seen at the still-standing end of the barn. Rifle fire from that direction ceased and a brush fire started. He handed the empty tube back to Good Twin and got a Type 69 airburst anti-personnel high explosive warhead in return.

  Macho saw troops coming from the farmhouse and realized that there must have been alert guards on the porch to get people out so fast. The Type 69 was perfect for them as it was meant to be used against personnel. The rocket landed just to the left of the three soldiers but did not explode. Instead, after it hit the ground, it bounced back up to about six feet and then detonated in an airburst, scattering 800 anti-personnel steel balls that scythed out over a lethal radius of 15 meters. All three of the soldiers went down.

  With no more soldiers in sight, Macho called for another WPF 2004 to finish the barn off, and Good Twin’s next reload for Bad Twin had the large thermobaric round on top. He took his time, aimed, and put it into the part of the barn that was still standing. It detonated inside, blowing out the rest of the building and flinging away pieces of the soldiers that had been going into the barn to rescue their comrades.

  Macho began calling for more of the airburst rounds as soldiers began coming out of their tents across the field and running toward them. Although the soldiers couldn’t see the rocketeers, as they were on the other side of the fires burning at the buildings, every time Bad Twin launched a rocket, the back blast lit them up, and they were starting to draw more and more return fire. Reggie was firing near continuously now in three shot bursts at every muzzle flash he saw.

  Macho had the brothers fire one more air burst, and then everyone ran to the south, stopping behind the home dugout at Turguson Park’s baseball field. They had pre-positioned three more rockets there. Bad Twin put the first of these, an airburst round, into the nearest concentration of soldiers, and then both brothers loaded and fired a high explosive/high explosive anti-tank round simultaneously. These rockets worked for both anti-personnel and anti-armor combat. Although they were originally designed to give an anti-tank capability, they exploded into 1,500 pre-fabricated fragments if they didn’t hit the steel armor of a tank. As originally planned, the two brothers dropped the rounds about 10 meters apart between the two buildings, and, while the Chinese were picking themselves up from the force of the twin detonations, the entire team left the field at a jog, with Macho oozing blood from a minor leg wound.

  They didn’t stop to do battle after that, as it was never their intent to get into a pitched battle with the Chinese. Their part of the plan was just to get the attention of the Chinese and draw them to the south. Any casualties that they caused along the way, though, was quite all right.

  Team SEAL, E.J. Roberts Park, North Bend, WA, 0115 PDT

  “Holy shit!” Ryan thought as the buildings exploded. Even though the blast was contained within the buildings, he could still feel the “thump” of the concussion as the rounds detonated. One of the buildings completely blew out and collapsed to the ground, burying the missile supply vehicles that he could see inside as the walls buckled. Although the other, larger one remained partially standing, it was going to need a structural engineer to stand it back upright again. To Ryan, it looked like it would probably be easier just to knock it down and start over. He couldn’t see the next shot, but all of a sudden the entire end of the barn that was still standing became a sheet of flame as it looked like a white phosphorus round was dropped on it. Flames began to lick the side of the barn and catch on the dry grass in the field. The level of light increased dramatically near the farm buildings, ruining the night vision of anyone in the area.

  As he watched, a second thermobaric round hit the barn and finished leveling it. The concussion of the round, and its ability to use up the oxygen in the air around it had a smothering effect on the fire that was still raging in the area. As he watched, soldiers from the camp started heading toward the source of the attack. He could tell fairly well where the brothers were, as the back blast from the RPG launcher was fairly obvious. As the Chinese soldiers gathered, looking for direction, it was obvious that Macho or Reggie, whoever was doing the spotting, was dropping anti-personnel rounds in on top of them. If 10-foot tall giants existed, and if they had shotguns that were appropriately sized, that is what it would look like as the airburst rounds came in and exploded—a giant
shotgun blast that shredded everything within 50 feet of it. It simply decimated anything in its area of effect.

  As Ryan watched, he saw that it was going far better than they had ever hoped. By his count, the Chinese must have lost at least 30 soldiers killed and a similar number maimed by the time the RPG team left for the rendezvous point. If they had followed up the RPG bombardment with a full-force attack, they could probably have killed or captured the entire company’s worth of troops. Hmmm…maybe not, he decided as he continued to watch. It appeared that there were more soldiers leaving the farmhouse and probably many more than a company’s worth in the field. The Americans were probably up against two full companies of troops.

  Regardless, the Chinese soldiers were now solely focused on the southern end of the field; no one was looking at the radar vehicles as his team continued their approach. Even the guards that were posted by the radar vehicles were watching to the south as explosion after explosion devastated their comrades. If they ever stopped to wonder why none of the rounds were dropping on the radar vehicles, which should have been high value targets, they didn’t have the chance, as Ryan and Corporal ‘Becks’ Beck sneaked around the vehicles from the north and shot them both with silenced pistols.

  With the guards out of the way, Ryan got to work. Starting first with the truck-mounted ‘Grave Stone’ multi-mode engagement radar, he pulled the high explosives out of his pack and began strapping them onto both the vehicle and the radar’s antenna mast. Ryan was an expert in most facets of the SEAL trade. He was both an outstanding pistol and rifle shot, and he could run and swim all day long, even better than kids half his age. But where he truly excelled was with explosives. Civilian artists worked with clay; he worked with plastic explosives. As he had demonstrated onboard the Long, he was a creative genius with them. He had sunk the Long primarily with explosives he had found on the ship; now he had explosives from his own private cache, and he had spared no expense. While the rest of his five-man team dropped off the explosives they had carried and then provided over watch in case someone came their way, he wired the vehicle and then quickly wired the truck-mounted ‘Big Bird’ acquisition radar, as well. Some rifle fire sounded from the northeast, but it was not directed at him, so he continued working on the truck, smiling happily to himself when he found that the truck’s gas tank was full. He finished attaching the explosives, and his team withdrew back into the shadows, going first west and then to the north around the park to their rendezvous.