Battlefield Pacific

by James Rosone

  For the past eight months, nearly 60,000 soldiers and over 100,000 civilians had labored on the defenses. From filling sandbags to laying concertina wire to digging tank ditches, the civilians on the island were being put to use fortifying the island against their liberation—against their own free will, of course. Internal communications within the island had been shut down, to the point that no cell phone could get a signal. Even the Thuraya satellite phones had a hard time operating on Formosa. General Lee had been adamant that if they were to succeed in surprising the Americans, they needed to ensure none of the people either working on or observing the construction of the fortifications could transmit any form of knowledge or information about it to the Allies.

  General Yang saw Brigadier General Lee catch his eye contact while he was surveying the scene and walked over to him. “I hope the fortifications meet your satisfaction,” said General Lee. “We still have many more months of construction ahead of us, but we’re largely ready for the Americans.” He spoke confidently, like a proud father would talk to his friends about his son’s athletic or academic achievements.

  Turning to look at General Lee, Yang smiled broadly. “I could not be happier with these defenses if I tried. You’ve done a marvelous job, Lee,” he said. He paused for a moment, thinking through all the angles. “How many artillery pieces do we have overlooking Luodong Township?” he asked.

  Pulling a small notebook out of his breast pocket, General Lee flipped through a few pages until he found the information he was looking for. “We have 310 artillery pieces hidden within the five fortresses here. All of the beach areas are within range of the guns as well as the fortresses. I cannot guarantee that they’ll all survive under a sustained American bombardment though. Eventually, they’ll identify where each gun is located and hit them with precision-guided munitions, but it will take them time, and they’ll have to expend a lot of expensive weapons to take them out,” he replied with a serious look on his face.

  Letting out a short breath, Yang took in another deep breath of the saltwater air before responding. “They should last long enough for us to either destroy the American invasion force or at least bloody them worse than anything they have seen up to this point,” he said. He secretly hoped the Americans’ resolve would dwindle before the battle was done. “Have we been able to get most of the heavy machine-gun bunkers equipped with the Hua Qing miniguns I requested?” he inquired.

  The Hua Qing minigun was a six-barrel, electronically operated minigun that fired 7.62×54mm rounds at a rate of 3,000 per minute. It was practically identical to the American M134 minigun used on many helicopters and vehicles that were operated by Special Forces. It had first been introduced in 2009 and had become an operational weapon within the PLA several years later.

  Lee shook his head. “No, I’m afraid we have only been able to secure 110 of the weapons,’ he answered, a bit disgusted. “I have tried to get more, but they’re also being used in the Beizhen defensive line in our northern army group. I was told the factories are producing more of these weapons, but they’re being prioritized for the Beijing defensive line. Perhaps you can speak with someone and get more of them shipped to us. We’re short at least 800 of these weapons for the other fortresses as well.”

  “Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” said General Yang, a bit surprised. “I’ll speak with the logisticians who are denying us these weapons and get that situation corrected. If you’ll excuse me now, I must speak with a few others about this festering insurgency that won’t go away.” Then he dismissed Lee and signaled for two other officers to come speak with him. A moment later, they were both standing next to him, slightly out of breath from running over.

  “Generals, I’m going to be returning to the mainland tomorrow and will be headed to Beijing the day after,” Yang began. “I need to know what the status of the rebellion is here, and what, if anything, you need to squash it.” As usual, he was blunt and straight to the point.

  “Sir, in the last two months, we’ve captured or killed over 4,000 enemy soldiers, who have continued to fight on despite the Taiwanese Army officially surrendering back in January. The insurgency still continues, but it’s becoming less and less effective with each month. As we locate where they are operating, we cordon the area off and then search everything within that grid until either we locate the enemy, or they engage our forces. Per your instructions, we’re using overwhelming force when we attack them. We are also taking hostages from the local area, and we inform the rebels that if they do not surrender, we’ll execute the hostages. Thus far, we have managed to get roughly 1,500 insurgents to surrender.”

  The major general cleared his throat. “Also, per your instructions, when they capitulate, we’re providing them with food and allowing them to live—we make sure that the fellow insurgents know of our actions and encourage other insurgents to rejoin society. I was skeptical that this strategy would work, but after four months, we’ve seen more than 2,000 enemy soldiers surrender themselves.”

  Along with the Taiwanese forces that had moved themselves to the jungles to continue fighting the Chinese, some Japanese and American Special Forces had also infiltrated the island and joined the nasty rebellion that had sprung up. General Yang had known from the moment this began that he would have to devise a plan to end this guerilla war before it had time to firmly take root. So far, his tactic of fair treatment and survival as the carrot, and hostage taking and execution as the stick, had been working exactly as he planned.

  “I’m glad to hear the insurgency is dying down,” General Yang said. “I will report that to Beijing. How are your provinces for food and munitions for the coming battle?” he inquired.

  “We have munitions for a sustained six months of heavy combat—more than enough to last us to the conclusion of the battle. Either we will all be dead, or all the enemy soldiers will be dead before we run out of munitions. As to food, we have six months of food, pending we were unable to live off the land. I’m confident we’ll either inflict enough casualties on the Americans to convince them to leave the island, or die trying,” the major general explained, speaking with a confidence that verged on cockiness.

  General Yang almost wished he would be able to stay there at Formosa and oversea the island personally. However, Beijing would never let him be in a position where he might be captured.

  “Excellent report, General,” said Yang. “You’ve done a good job with the time and resources you’ve been given. Please continue to use the remaining time you have left until the Americans arrive. I’m not sure how much longer we may have to prepare now that Luzon has fallen, but you can be assured the Americans are going to have this place under heavy surveillance, identifying every possible stronghold. Do your best to incorporate our latest in camouflage technology. It’s imperative that we surprise the enemy when they land. The Americans are soft. If we can inflict enough casualties, they will lose their stomach for war and seek a peace with China…on our terms and not theirs.”

  They discussed a number of other defensive strategies and ideas for a few more hours as the sun continued to climb into the sky. It was a beautiful view, and Yang wanted to enjoy it for as long as possible. In a few months, this area would be turned into a moonscape with the number of American bombs and missiles that would be launched at it. For the time being, he savored its serene beauty.

  ANZACs

  Dili, East Timor

  The air was hot and sticky as Lieutenant General Rick Campbell of the 1st Brigade of the Australian Army looked at his senior commanders. He was about to order them to carry out a very risky invasion, one that might help cement Australia’s relationship with the new Global Defense Force and give them a more prominent role in the postwar world that would be created in Asia.

  General Campbell saw the men he needed to brief were all present and ready to get things going. “Good,” he thought. “There’s a lot to get done and not a lot of time to do it.”

  Clearing his throat to get thei
r attention, he stood and walked over to a large map displayed on the wall and removed the sheet he had placed on it earlier. He wanted to keep what he was about to talk about a secret until this discussion. Once he’d pulled the sheet down, the others suddenly sat up a little straighter, seeing the magnitude of what the map showed. They were going to invade the Island of Java directly and bypass a lot of the other Indonesian island garrisons.

  “Two days ago, the Indonesian Army on Luzon surrendered to the American Marines. It is expected that the PLA ground forces will also surrender within the next couple of days. I spoke with General Roy Cutter, the American Marine Commander for the Pacific. He told me that his intention is to bypass the bulk of the Chinese and Indonesian forces on the remaining Philippine Islands. The Americans will turn their focus on Taiwan once Luzon has been fully liberated,” General Campbell explained.

  “The surrender of so many Indonesian forces on Luzon, and the fact that many more of them are now going to be essentially trapped on the remaining islands, has given us a unique opportunity to deal a death blow to the Indonesian government and perhaps end their participation in the war. General Cutter told me that he will detail off one American carrier strike group and additional ground forces and landing ships to assist us in our invasion of Java. Our goal—” he said, pausing for effect, “—is to threaten Jakarta and force the government to surrender.”

  Brigadier General Alan Morrison, the senior ground commander for the ANZAC force, interrupted to ask what they all wanted to know. “How in the heck are we going to invade Java? We don’t have the sealift capability to move our equipment and forces to assault a hostile landing like the Americans have been doing.”

  The others in the room nodded their heads in agreement and mumbled a few words to that effect as well.

  General Campbell held up his hand. “In addition to our two Canberra-class amphibious assault ships, and the HMAS Choules, the Americans are going to send twelve of their own amphibious assault ships with the carrier strike group. They’ll also be sending one Stryker brigade combat team to support our ground operation. With the Americans having substantially increasing the size of their brigade combat teams, we’ll have a total of 6,000 additional infantrymen for the invasion. With the American troops, it’ll bring our invasion force up to 31,000 soldiers, and the latest intelligence reports estimate the Indonesian Army has, at best, 9,000 soldiers spread across Java. Our forces will be landing with tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, and self-propelled Howitzers—more than enough of a force to deal with the remaining enemy troops on the island.”

  For the next two hours, the group went over the plan and ironed out a lot of the details of which units would land first and secure the port city of Cirebon. Once the port was captured, the heavy roll-on, roll-off ships would be able to dock and offload the rest of their armored vehicles and the supplies needed to keep the army moving. The port city of Cirebon had been chosen for a few reasons. It was only 218 kilometers from the Indonesian capital, and it was a relatively small city of just a few hundred thousand people, unlike the other port cities, which had populations in excess of one million. A small population meant fewer potential problems. Together, they decided that this course of action would isolate the capital from the remaining forces the Chinese had on the island, giving them the best chance of a quick victory.

  *******

  Karimunjawa Island, Indonesia

  The coral reefs around the island of Karimunjawa were absolutely stunning. Had Major Jason Warden of the New Zealand Special Air Force not been toting all of his combat gear with him, he certainly would have enjoyed the rich reds, pinks, and other colors of the living reef and the sight of the colorful fish that darted in and out of their underwater village.

  He and his men had been transported to a place a couple of miles away from the island by an American ballistic missile submarine that had been converted to fire cruise missiles and carry the American Navy’s elite SEALs. When the mission had been put together, Major Warden had inquired why this assignment wasn’t being carried out by one of the American SEAL teams. The captain of the USS Georgia had told him a large contingent of the SEALs in the Philippines, who normally would have carried out this mission, had been killed, so the mission had fallen to his squadron to complete. Fortunately, they did have a couple of SEAL members to help them use the equipment and guide them through the process of leaving the underwater boat. He had to admit—the submarine was a beast. It was enormous and could carry a plethora of underwater vehicles and special operators.

  Major Jason Warden looked over his shoulder. Now that they’d arrived at their destination, the rest of his team was unpacking the SEAL delivery vehicle. They’d parked the underwater vehicles on the opposite side of a reef; they’d swim through the break in it to the shore, where they would conduct their mission.

  After what felt like a long time but was really only five or so minutes, the New Zealand Special Air Service, or NZSAS, was ready to move. The sixteen members of his team and the three US Navy SEALs accompanying them were about to pull off one of the most dangerous missions of the war for the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, or ANZACs.

  In preparation for the ground invasion of Java, the NZSAS had been tasked with neutralizing a series of Chinese anti-ship missiles batteries and surface-to-air missiles in and around the Karimunjawa Airport. It was the last major threat to the invasion force that needed to be destroyed before the fleet could sail any closer. Because of the close proximity of so many civilians to the military targets, it had been determined that this mission should be conducted by Special Forces rather than left to cruise missiles or high-altitude bombing. Enough civilians were being killed in the war as it was; if they could minimize the casualties while still accomplishing the mission, then it was a risk worth taking.

  Fifteen minutes went by as the underwater special operators made their way to the beach, then slowly left the cover of the water and waded ashore.

  *******

  Sergeant Shang Ha was doing his best to stay awake when one of the motion sensors on the southeastern side of the island suddenly detected movement and an alarm sounded, startling him.

  “Probably just another animal,” he thought, “or maybe, if I’m lucky, a young couple looking to get busy on a deserted beach.” He remembered back a month ago, when the beach sensor had picked up a young couple making love on the shoreline.

  Turning the monitor over to inspect the source of alarm, Shang spotted something. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a bird or a romantic date—a small cluster of soldiers was emerging from the water. They appeared to be carrying a number of heavy bags with them as well.

  “I better get the lieutenant in here ASAP,” he said under his breath as he lifted the telephone receiver on his desk.

  It rang three times before he heard the very sleepy voice of his lieutenant on the other end. “This had better be good. You woke me out of a wonderful dream,” he said.

  “Sir,” said Sergeant Shang. “One of the ocean sensors picked up some movement a few minutes ago. When I checked it out, it showed images of soldiers emerging from the water and heading up the beach on the southeastern side of the island. I believe we’re under attack!”

  The lieutenant, who had sounded nearly drunk from tiredness just a moment before, must have sat up in his bed, because his voice now sounded like he had been hit with a quick jolt of adrenaline. “Alert the base commander, but do not sound the alarm. Let’s see if maybe we can lay an ambush for these guys,” he ordered. “I’ll be right there. I just need to get dressed.”

  *******

  As the SAS teams split up and headed toward their targets, Major Warden couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing straight up. It felt like they were walking into a trap.

  Everything inside of him screamed to get away, but he also knew they had to accomplish this task. The invasion force was set to sail through this area in the next few hours, and if his tea
m didn’t take out the anti-ship missile launchers, hundreds, maybe even thousands of soldiers’ and sailors’ lives would be at risk.

  “No, we need to press on and deal with whatever danger may be lurking ahead,” he told himself.

  Ahead of him, his point man raised his right hand in a balled fist and then lowered it slowly, indicating they needed to stop and get down. The seven-man team immediately took up a defensive position as they waited for Major Warden to move forward and find out what the point man had found.

  “What do you see?” he asked. His point man had his rifle aimed at something ahead of them.

  “I found the first launcher site. It’s right past that cluster of foliage in front of us, maybe thirty meters. Do you see it?” he inquired.

  Looking more closely, Warden saw through the camouflage and found the hidden structure. “I see it,” he said.

  “There’s a guard just to the right of the entrance. I think we should fan out and advance forward. I can take the guy out with my knife, and then we can move into the area where the launchers are set up,” the point man offered, not taking his eyes off the guard.

  “Copy that, let’s do it,” said Major Warden. He turned and signaled with his hands what he wanted everyone to do.

  Slowly and methodically, the SAS men and the lone SEAL crept up on the sentry that was guarding the launchers. The guard appeared to be half-asleep. The point man looked at Warden one last time for the go-ahead, and then lowered his weapon and reached for his knife. Creeping slowly forward, he moved to within a couple of feet to the right of the guard, who still seemed unaware that he was about to die. In one swift move, the SAS man darted with lightning speed and had his hand tightly around the man's mouth as he thrust his knife into the guard’s throat, severing his arteries and windpipe in one violent move.