The Return of the Marines Trilogy

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “We are at war with the Americans now?”

  “’War’ is a very strong term, general. We have come into ‘contact’ with the Americans, just as we have come into ‘contact’ with the renegade Chinese on Taiwan, with Japan, India, South Korea, Vietnam…I don’t need to lecture you, more than anyone else, of our PLA’s glorious history.”

  “So what is the situation now? How involved is our ‘contact?’” he asked.

  “The renegade Chinese put up a spirited defense of Taiping. Our assault force never made it to the island. The Americans were able to reinforce it with what is probably a company-size unit. On Thitu, our assault force was able to take the island easily and is in control; however, we believe another American company-size unit may have landed on the island.”

  “You ‘believe?’”

  “Unfortunately, the same measures we took to blanket the area has had unforeseen effects on our own communications.”

  “And how could the Taiwanese troops repel our forces there? They don’t have more than 80 Marines or so on the island, if I recall correctly.”

  “A decision had been made that the assault forces remain limited to ensure secrecy.”

  He didn’t mention that that decision had been his.

  “On Thitu, only 20 soldiers took the island, although they have been reinforced with another 40. We had 100 in the assault on Taiping, and 20 took West York Island from the Filipinos. We have another 1,800 afloat and getting in position.”

  “And…?” General Chen prompted.

  “We believe now is the time to dedicate more assets to the assault. We need air assets most of all. The Americans seem to be withholding their carrier battle group and their long-range assets from their air base in Guam. Their opposition looks to be a surgical attempt to get their troops committed, to make us pause.”

  “Well, maybe we should ‘pause,’ as you put it.”

  General Li was afraid of this. The chief of staff was a canny player. He had to be in order to have risen to the top. He would want to get more details before committing himself. He had to see the possibility of glory, but also failure was an option that no military leader, no government or party leader, for that matter, would want to contemplate.

  “I am a military man, general. My job, as is yours, it to ensure the People’s Liberation Army succeeds in all tasks. As far as pausing, that is up to those on the Politburo who are pulling our strings. But until they should so decide, it is our duty to strive for success. And to achieve success, I believe we need air assets. We have the ground troops in place.”

  General Chen stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the bustling city. He clasped his hands behind him, then rocked up and down on his heels.

  Turning around, he asked, “And why are you coming to me? Why not your superiors, our superiors, on the Politburo and the CMC?”

  “I can’t answer that. They have their own agenda with aspects far beyond the mere military perspective.”

  General Li watched the emotions play over the chief of staff’s face again. The man was an open book!

  Finally, he walked back to his desk, hitting the intercom.

  “I want a general staff meeting in 30 minutes,” he abruptly instructed his secretary.

  To General Li he said, “Before they come, I want a more detailed brief on the situation. If we are going to jump in, then we need to do this right.”

  General Li felt a rush of relief replacing the tension he hadn’t really realized he was feeling. The chief of staff had not committed anything, but neither had he ordered his arrest. All of this could still be salvaged.

  Chapter 19

  Pagasa Island

  There was a sharp crack of shattered leaves followed by the almost simultaneous deadened thud of the round hitting flesh. LCpl Kenny shouted out, sitting up and grabbing his thigh. Sgt Steptoe lunged forward and pulled him back prone.

  The Chinese soldiers had taken to putting random shots into the foliage. They had to know something was up as no all-out assault had materialized. And as the amount of wire they had was limited, he could not go too deep into the jungle, so the firing had forced his small group to basically low crawl through the bushes. He had been grateful for this flak jacket, but the various branches had already cut up his hands, his neck, and his legs.

  But now a random round had impacted on Kenny’s thigh, and blood was spurting out. He kept trying to sit up, but that would expose him to more fire, so Steptoe physically laid on him, hands trying to apply pressure to the thigh.

  “Sullivan,” he told the private, “go deeper into this by five yards, then get up and get the doc. He needs to get here quick.”

  Pvt Sullivan nodded, then moved off. Sgt Steptoe looked back at LCpl Kenny, who had gotten pale and was obviously going into shock.

  “OK Kenny, hang in there. Doc’s coming now. You’re going to be fine.”

  LCpl Kenny stopped trying to sit up, his breath becoming shallow. Blood was pooling under him despite the pressure Sgt Steptoe was putting directly over the wound. He tried to put more pressure, knowing he had to stop the bleeding. Another round cracked through the foliage, but it barely registered on him as Kenny’s blood continued to flow between his fingers.

  “Toti, help me put pressure here!” he called out.

  Pvt Toti looked pale as he crawled up, then hesitantly put his hands on LCpl Kenny’s leg.

  “Harder, Toti! We need to stop the bleeding!”

  LCpl Kenny stopped his mumbling. Steptoe looked up to see him staring upwards, mouth open, small gasps the only sign that he was still breathing.

  If doc was there, he knew he could reach inside and clamp or stop the femoral artery from bleeding, but Steptoe didn’t know if he could do that. He took pressure off for a moment to see if he could even see the artery, but the bleeding increased, so he pushed back down.

  He looked back over his shoulder. What was keeping Sullivan and the doc?

  Time dragged on. He wanted to look at his watch, to check the time, but he didn’t want to let up on the pressure. His arms started to ache with the effort, and Toto was tiring, but they had to keep Kenny alive until doc got there.

  “Hey, I think its working!” he exclaimed as the bleeding finally seemed to stop.

  He looked up to Kenny’s face, and his heart sank. There was no movement, no rise and fall of his chest. LCpl Kenny had bled out.

  “OK, Toti, that’s enough,” he said, bitterness in his voice.

  He didn’t really know LCpl Kenny very well. He had just grabbed him, “Shanghaied” him, as the skipper had directed him. And because of that, Kenny was dead. Because of his choice. Not the skipper. Not Lt Gaines, Kenny’s platoon commander. Sgt Harrison Steptoe. His decision.

  He looked at his watch. He had 20 more minutes to get the wire laid.

  “OK, let’s move out. We need to get this done, but keep your heads down!” he told his small working party.

  “What about him?” Pvt Toti asked.

  “Leave him here for now. We’ll recover him later. Now, we need to get this wire laid.”

  He couldn’t help but to look back and LCpl Kenny’s still form as they crawled further into the bush, dragging the wire behind.

  Chapter 20

  Pagasa Island

  Joselito toddled up to Analiza, hands out, offering her his plastic action figure.

  “You can play with him, if you want,” he told her.

  Analiza laughed and gave him a hug despite the situation. Joselito had obviously felt the tension, and this was his way of trying to deal with it. She took the beat up toy.

  “Why thank you, Joselito. Maybe you can show me how to play with him?”

  She looked around the room as the young boy happily went over the various functions of the plastic figure. All of the Filipinos were there in the middle of the community center, sitting on the floor. Four Chinese soldiers where in there as well, but none of them had made any aggressive moves.

  An hour earlier, rounds
had hit the center, shattering one of the windows and sending people screaming as they dove for the floor. Since then, however, the firing had died off, although they could still hear some shots being fired sporadically. Analiza wondered what was happening. The four soldiers didn’t seem too concerned. It seemed to her that if the Americans were going to rescue them, they would have already done so. Was it possible that the American she had seen was only part of a small force, merely sent to see what was going on?

  After the initial firing broke out, a few of the men had been surreptitiously gathering in small groups, whispering together. Whatever it was that they planned, it had to be obvious that the guards could see what was going on. Only four guards or not, they were armed and none of the Filipinos were. Analiza hoped that no one was planning anything foolish.

  She glanced up as another burst of fire sounded off in the distance. Whatever was going to happen, she just wished it would happen soon.

  Chapter 21

  Pagasa Island

  “Roger that,” 1stLt Peter Van Slyke said over the hand-held phone. “Most of the Chinese seem to be concentrated in the government building in the north and in the adjoining buildings. There’re only a couple of soldiers back in the community center with the hostages. My take on it is that they don’t want the hostages caught in a crossfire, over.”

  Peter had been surprised when a Marine had come through the undergrowth with the phone and trailing wire. With all the modern comm gear available to them, it seemed odd speaking into what was essentially an old fashion telephone. It was set up as a party line, for all practical purposes, so getting walked on was a problem. Proper radio procedures were a must.

  “Any numbers and disposition of the Chinese, over?” Capt Niimoto’s voice came over the phone.

  “Movement has been limited, and we can see signs that they’re fortifying their positions. But as far as numbers go, it’s hard to tell. I’d say at least 25, two-five, soldiers in the government building, maybe 10 or so in the house directly to the east of that, and several more groups of 4 to 5 in the surrounding buildings. On top of the public works building, we think there is either an observation team or a sniper team, over.”

  “Can you take the sniper team under fire when we begin the assault, over?”

  “I’m not sure. If they orient to the north, they will be in defilade towards us. If they orient to the south, then we should be able to take them under fire. I would suggest using the 60’s. We’re pretty sure there’re no friendlies at the location, over.”

  “Roger, wait one…” the captain said.

  Pete raised his binos again to glass the area. Captain Niimoto wanted him to provide a base of fire from the east to help cover the main assault from the north and west. The main base of fire would come from his Second Platoon from the south, but Pete’s platoon would be more judicious, taking out whatever target of opportunity presented itself. His Marines would have to be more careful as Third Platoon would be in their line of fire as they moved in on the assault.

  He reached down to scratch the welt that was forming on his thigh. Something had crawled in while he was laying there and taken a bite off of him, and the itch was getting maddening. He had been in the same spot for close to eight hours, and what with the bugs and a bucket of piss being thrown on him, comfort was pretty much out the window. He would be glad when things kicked off and he could at least move from this position.

  The lack of activity seemed surreal to him. There were five dead soldiers in sight, lying in the sun. There was sporadic harassment fire coming from the Chinese. But after that first flurry of fighting, things went into a hiatus, sort of a Mexican standoff. Pete might not have stalled the attack had he been in charge, but he guessed Capt Niimoto wanted to make sure the assault hit with maximum power. Pete understood that, but the delay also gave the Chinese time to prepare better.

  “Second, I want you to send a runner back to the 60’s. I want rounds on the roof of the utility building in exactly 25 minutes from my mark. I want an Osprey in the air to follow up with anyone left on the roof. When the mortar rounds impact, that will be the signal to commence the assault. We will stick with white smoke to cease fire as previously planned. Now, I want confirmation, starting with First, over,” Capt Niimoto said over the landline.

  Pete hadn’t seen any sign of an Osprey for at least 30 minutes, so he had assumed they were refueling or something. It was a nice security blanket to know that at least one was on hand.

  “First, roger, over.”

  “Second Platoon, roger, over,” was followed by Third Platoon’s acknowledgment.

  “Recon, roger, over,” Pete transmitted.

  It seemed odd not to have call signs, but without real comm, things were being kept simple. Of course with wire, it was possible that the Chinese had somehow discovered it, spliced into it, and were now listening in.

  “Roger, so everyone’s on board. Let’s get this thing done. On my mark—five, four, three, two one, mark!”

  Pete set his watch, then slowly moved over to Sgt McNamara.

  “OK, here it is. In 25 minutes, the 60’s will hit the utilities building. That will signal the attack. We’re providing the base of fire, but for God’s sake, we’ve got Kilo’s Third Platoon right in our line of fire. We need to make sure we target each shot, no un-aimed rounds downrange. And we need to keep our heads low. We don’t need any friendly-fire casualties here, either. I want Brugal to target the team on the roof. If the mortars don’t get them, if the Osprey doesn’t get them, he needs to take them out.”

  “He’ll take them, no problem, sir. What about Gunny Sloan and Staff Sergeant Tolbert? Are they coming back here?” the team leader asked.

  “No, it’s just us here. Tolbert’s team is joining Second Platoon for the base of fire and to act as a reaction force, if needed.”

  Sgt McNamara nodded, then crawled off to tell the others.

  Pete resisted the urge to shout as another creepy crawler decided to sample his thigh, this time dangerously close to his balls. He reached in, felt the little bugger, then pulled it out. His fingers had partially crushed it, but a reddish ant seemed to stare defiantly at him. He flicked it away.

  Pete realized that they could be at the brink of WWIII. The Marines were about to conduct an all-out assault on Chinese soldiers. Yet the world went on. Ants scurried in the brush, looking for food, living life as they had done for millions of years. They had bitten dinosaurs, and now they had bitten him. If this was WWIII, they probably would outlast humans, too.

  He looked at his watch. It would all kick off in about 15 minutes. This is what he had been trained for, what the US taxpayers paid him to do. The situation might be different than anyone would have guessed. They had none of the modern technology with which he had been trained, none of the comm, not even the heads-up displays in their helmet face shields. But when you got down to it, combat was combat, man against man. It had been this way since humans first stood upright on the plains of Africa.

  He could feel his pulse pounding. He wasn’t going to be kicking in doors. He and his team were probably pretty safe as a base of fire unless there were more Chinese on the island than they thought. But he still had a degree of nervousness. He wiped the sweaty palms of his hands on his trousers.

  A soldier looked out the door of the government building, then ran full out, changing direction several times as he made it to the adjoining building. No one fired on him, letting him make it safely. Pete wondered what was his mission, why he had to go to the other building. He wondered if the Chinese had the same comm problems that the Marines had. He wondered what the Chinese had done to prepare for the coming fight.

  Wondering, though, was not doing any good. He would find out soon enough.

  He tried to control his breathing, to calm himself. He had a job to do, and he was going to get it done right.

  Time seemed to crawl, yet when he finally heard the soft thunk in the distance of outgoing mortar rounds, it suddenly seemed as if i
t was too soon, that it should take longer. He counted down the seconds, waiting for the impact.

  Even though he was expecting them, he still jumped when the six mortar rounds, two rounds for each tube, impacted all around the utilities building. None landed on top of the building, though, best he could tell. But as firing commenced all around them, an Osprey made its run, its minigun opening up on the rooftop. Dust and pieces of the building went flying. The big bird continued to the north and out of sight.

  Marines came into view from the north, rushing out of the tree line. Fire started coming out to greet them, but scan as he might, Pete could not acquire a target. He wasn’t sure if Second Platoon had targets in sight, but they were opening up with their small arms, and chips were flying off the southern walls of the buildings.

  The muzzle of a machine gun poked out of a window opening and started to fire in the direction of Second, so Pete fired at it. His angle was wrong, though, and he couldn’t get at the shooter. More American rounds impacted around the window, and the machine gun disappeared.

  A Marine rushing from the north went down, and the single crack of the Chinese rifle seemed clear over the rest of the cacophony of firing. Despite the Osprey, at least one of the Chinese sniper team must have survived.

  “Brugal! Take out the sniper!” he shouted, the time for stealth gone.

  “Can’t see him, sir!” LCpl Brugal shouted back.

  “Get to where you can see him, then!”

  To his right, a Marine got up and rushed out of the comparative safety of the tree line. It was Sgt McNamara, rushing over the 150 meters or so to the building. Rounds started whistling into the trees as he ran—their fellow Marines were firing on him!

  Pete jumped up, waving his arms, yelling “Marines! Marines! Quit firing!”

  A round zipped past his ear, but the firing stopped. Somebody over there had recognized they were friendlies. Of course, now that made him a target for the Chinese, but they seemed to be occupied with more immediately threatening Marines.