Sweetness in the Dark

by W. B. Martin

  Paul trudged along in Amanda’s wake, wondering how a simple lunch could be so interrupted. And he had been looking forward to returning to their room for the rest of the day. Now he looked at more meetings. He turned his jacket collar up to ward off the cold Wyoming wind.

  Chapter 24

  Seattle, Washington

  “General Gale, we have a radio report of a column of armored vehicles moving on our left flank,” the radioman said.

  Ed thought about Sergeant Wilder and his scouts. He had assigned them to watch the Dash Point area for a flanking move by the Chinese. And now that option seems to have come true.

  “Did you pass the information on to Navy?” Ed asked. It would be up to the carrier war planes to stop any flanking moves. Ed had worked that out with Admiral Lanciani in the planning phase.

  The Union of American States forces had no heavy armored vehicles. The Stryker combat vehicles were as heavy as it got and they couldn’t stand up to Chinese tanks. The F-18 Super Hornet would be his protector.

  The radioman confirmed that the Navy was on it and that the strike was forming up over Puget Sound. It would be about fifteen minutes until contact.

  “Then get on the horn and alert Sergeant Wilder. His scout team needs to vacate the area immediately. The Navy is using iron bombs, and they don’t want to be anywhere nearby,” Ed said. He reminded the operator that the scouts needed to be careful not to be spotted leaving by the Chinese. He didn’t want them chewed up by the enemy.

  Ed waited for news of the attack. If the Chinese could get behind his lines with an armored unit, he would be in big trouble. His lightly armed troops were no match for tanks. After what seemed an eternity, Ed heard the radio crackle with activity.

  “Scratch one armored regiment from the order of battle,” one of the Navy pilots said. “Estimate ten tanks and fourteen armored cars. Plus troop trucks.”

  “Fully suppressed?” the Navy liaison radioman asked.

  “They won’t be ordering Wonton soup any time soon. No movement visible,” the pilot reported. “Checked a group of motorcycles heading east as we were lining up. Figured them to be friendlies. No selfrespecting Chinese would be as ugly as those mothers.”

  Ed was relieved to hear that his scout team had escaped the carnage. A short time later he heard the roar of motorcycles coming towards headquarters. Soon, Sergeant Wilder reported in.

  “Thought you’d want a first-hand report, Sir,” Wilder offered. “The Navy laid down on those bastards but good. Things were popping off from ammunition and fuel going off but we circled around and checked. We picked up two survivors. They were both badly injured and we took them to the Battalion Aid Station. I think they’ll live.”

  “Good work, Sergeant. The Navy complimented you on your timing in vacating the scene,” Ed said.

  “Sir, those SOB Chinese had American armored vehicles with them.”

  “They looted Ft. Lewis for anything they could get running. Remember that. Don’t assume that American equipment has American personnel in them.” Ed had warned his commanders previously, but made a mental note to renew the warning.

  The planned attack had been delayed to let the Navy soften up the enemy. Ed had figured the carrier pilots could help limit his casualties, and the strategy seemed to be working. The full complement of planes from the battle group kept a sustained rate of sorties going each day as they knocked the Chinese defenses to pieces.

  With the onboard helicopters of both the U.S.S. Enterprise and the Marine Amphibious Carrier providing anti-submarine and anti-shipping coverage, the Chinese were in a tight spot. And he intended to make it a lot tighter.

  Already three container ships approaching Puget Sound had been sunk. Along with the Chinese nuclear submarine previously sunk, a maritime embargo was practically in place along the West Coast. The governors of the new UAS had made the decision to blockade the coast.

  The member provincial ministers had extended the blockade up the entire coast. The blockade was even extended down the Mexican coast to prevent the Chinese from shipping supplies into California through Mexican ports.

  Except for the Washington coast, the blockade still didn’t amount to much. The U.S. Navy was still working up submarines. Crews were finally returning to duty after being assured that their families were safe.

  Rain become a hindrance to operations, as spring weather in the Puget Sound area can be very wet. Luckily, this year was a bit drier than normal. The mud factor was tolerable in the areas torn up from air attacks.

  Ed finally made the decision to send in the troops. Tomorrow morning would be the jump off and the Navy would have units assigned to provide air support to the attacking forces.

  “Fire it up, Lieutenant. We head to Bellevue,” Ed said as he climbed into the helicopter. One Sea Hawk from the U.S.S. Tarawa had been flown in for the Commanding General’s use. Ed wanted to check with his subordinate commanders to the east and north to make sure everything was ready.

  * * *

  “General, good to have you here,” Colonel van Dyck said. As commander of the 3rd Battalion of the 12th Infantry Division, he had assumed operational command of forces arrayed around Bellevue. After arriving in Astoria from Afghanistan, his unit had been shipped by train through Spokane and then west over the Cascades.

  Along with the local units raised in Montana and Idaho, the Regular Army troops were ready to throw the invaders out.

  “Just wanted to get an update, Colonel. Tomorrow is a big day and I want it to come off without a hitch,” Ed said.

  The two officers studied the map and made sure the axis of attack was clear. Ed didn’t want his forces bumping into each other and suffering friendly fire. Kill the bad guys, not each other, he thought.

  “All units have gotten the word. My regular units will lead the attack. They have more experience at target acquisition and confirmation. As long as the north forces stay on defense, we can coordinate with the south forces,” Colonel van Dyck said.

  Ed agreed. Seattle was on a long peninsula, attached on two ends. The North Force would hold in place and stop any enemy leakage in that direction. The South Force would move up the peninsula pushing the enemy into a kill zone. The East Force then would capture the Lake Washington floating bridges and secure them. Then that force could push the Chinese into Puget Sound.

  But just in case the bridges were blown, the East Force was ready to split in two and add weight to the southern attack. Ed turned to leave and just about ran into Matt Kendall.

  The Colonel noticed the intrusion of one of the non-regular troops in his headquarters.

  “Soldier, aren’t you out of your area?” The colonel’s irritation showing.

  “It’s OK, Colonel. Matt, what are you doing here? Where’s Isaac?” Ed asked.

  “Do you know this solider, General?” the colonel asked. His tone had changed noticeably.

  “Know him? This young man and his father saved not only my life, but the lives of my grandchildren,” Ed answered. “How is Bruneau, by the way?”

  “I don’t write too much, but Isaac is good at keeping in touch. Things are fine there. I hear that Brittany has your grandkids wrapped around her finger,” Matt said.

  Ed’s eyes began to tear up. He missed his family. He wanted the war to be over so he could return and take over the raising of his grandchildren. “Is Isaac close by? I’d love to check in with him, too.”

  “General, I can have my staff escort you to their area if you wish,” Van Dyck offered.

  “Not necessary, Colonel. Matt can show me the way. Have my helicopter ready to fly north,” Ed ordered. He noticed the colonel making a note as to finding out who Matt and Isaac were and what unit they were assigned to. Always good to know the politics of his command, Ed thought as he left.

  A brisk walk brought Matt and Ed to the commander of Task Force Delta. He had located his headquarters near the 12th Division headquarters. Isaac was standing by the entrance.

  “Isaac, it’s good to se
e you. Tell me what you two have been up to,” Ed said.

  Matt started to fill in Ed on their time in the Idaho Army. After basic training they had both been assigned to a unit made up of Mountain Home volunteers. They had been part of Task Force Delta from the beginning.

  After Coeur d’ Alene, they had been part of the unit assigned to roll up along I-90 towards Ellensburg. They had sporadic run-ins with bad guys, but the show of force that his column presented scattered most of the opposition.

  They’d cross the Cascade Mountains at Stevens Pass after heavy equipment had been brought in to dig a passage through the snow. Even in May, the winter snow made the road impassable without clearing.

  Finished with their updates, they both announced that they were tired of sitting and waiting here in Bellevue. They wanted to get moving.

  “Well, tomorrow you get your wish. We’re ready to clean out the Chinese and their thug friends who’ve been terrorizing folks around here,” Ed offered.

  “Good, the men in our unit want this over with. Summer planting season is coming up, and they want to get back to their ranches,” Matt said.

  “In due time. I want to get back too. But remember, California needs liberating also. And I’m afraid the Regular Army isn’t back up to full strength yet. You men have to be patient,” Ed said. Hurry up and finish things, Ed thought. The perpetual desire of all armies.

  On the flight up to his north forces, Ed reminded himself that he needed to watch the troops’ morale. The Regular Army was one thing, but like what George Washington wrote about regarding the original Continental Army, citizen soldiers were a different breed.

  They would fight to clear their country of any invaders, but there was a limit to their endurance. Even troops in World War II grew antsy to get home, especially after Germany surrendered. Ed knew about the near mutiny of American soldiers who had fought in Europe after being shipped to the Pacific. He resolved to treat his troops carefully.

  * * *

  Chairman Z knew that the end was coming. His leg wounds had begun healing but walking was still painful. He had been rescued off the front sidewalk of the Chinese hospital by ‘the chairwoman’.

  She had received word of his injuries and had immediately sought him out. Finding him stretched out by the front door, she had helped him to a house nearby.

  Chairman Z discovered that ‘the chairwoman’ had befriended the Chinese Communist Commissar. As the top political representative of the regime, he had access to medicine. ‘The chairwoman’ had nursed Chairman Z back to health.

  As the air attacks intensified, the commissar become more nervous. Without air superiority, Chairman Z knew that the Chinese position was hopeless. He lay in bed awaiting his fate. Maybe I should have stood still in the headquarters during the napalm attack, he thought. His troubles would have ended then.

  “We need to get ready. We leave tonight,” ‘the chairwoman’ said. “I’ve convinced the commissar that you know how to sail.”

  “What? I’ve never even been on a sailboat. And where are we going?”

  “Shut up, he might hear you. I’ve found one of my old compatriots from Portland who says he sailed a lot before ‘the Pulse’. He’ll show you the ropes. The U.S. Navy is sinking anything that floats outside on the Pacific. I think that a sailboat escaping Seattle might glide by their attention,” ‘the chairwoman’ said.

  “But where?”

  “San Francisco. You know the Chinese have a full army down there. And the commissar says shipments from China are still getting through.”

  With the use of a garden cart and accompanied by the thug who knew sailing, the small party made their way to the Seattle waterfront. There they transferred to a small motorboat for the trip across to Bainbridge Island. The forty-foot Hunter sailboat was docked in a marina there.

  Once they were all loaded, Chairman Z looked at his sailing mate. The thug-turned-sailor took command and got the sailboat out of the marina. They motored away from the Seattle area, staying close to Bainbridge Island. They didn’t want to attract attention from the Chinese forces they were abandoning. Once near Port Townsend, they raised the sails and put the boat on a course that would take them out the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

  They had timed their breakout in order to hit the Pacific Ocean after dark. They weren’t sure where the U.S. Navy was stationed, but by the sounds of the jets overhead, it wasn’t too far away. The skipper kept a close course along the Olympic Coast. With no electric lights on shore, they would run the risk of hitting land in order to make their escape.

  The night sky and partial moon offered just enough light to avoid the headlands and keep their course south. The prevailing easterly winds gave them a broad reach. The Navy didn’t bother them.

  * * *

  The commanding officer of the 12th Infantry Division was ready before sunrise. General Fuller had operational command of the 1st and 2nd Battalions. The 3rd battalion reported to the East Force and the 4th Battalion was to hold the line in the north.

  The twelve thousand men of his division had been waiting for this day since arriving back in the States. Along with General Gale’s troops from Idaho and Montana and the other assorted personnel that had returned from Afghanistan, almost thirty thousand troops were ready to advance.

  The Chinese troops had retreated from British Columbia before the UAS forces had arrived. With all the Chinese concentrated in Seattle, Ed estimated that the Chinese had approximately twenty thousand troops in one full Infantry Division and an Armored Brigade. There were a few irregulars that had been looting the Northwest, but General Fuller didn’t expect them to put up much resistance.

  The Chinese troops were another matter. While China hadn’t fought in any wars of late, they were still regular troops. Fuller knew that troops that had seen combat were vastly superior to troops that hadn’t. Most of that difference could be attributed to eliminating bad officers.

  Peacetime armies took the hardship of war to eliminate the political officers that tended to control soldiers as a politician would. Wars needed warriors at the head of armies to make them most effective. And the Chinese definitely had the political officer problem. General Fuller was about to see how bad the Chinese Army had the disease.

  “Sir, advance scouts are moving out. We are engaged,” came the telephone report.

  “Very good. Carry on,” Fuller said. He just had to wait now. News would start to come in and he would make the command decisions to keep the enemy under pressure

  Routine reports flowed in, but nothing causing concern. Fuller listened as his subordinate commanders made their decisions. The sign of a good unit is good officers, he thought.

  “Sir, we have a strange report from H Company. They’re currently by Renton closing in on Boeing Field. They’ve met up with elements from 3rd battalion. When the bridges blew, 3rd Battalion split and headed for their land routes,” the radioman reported.

  “What’s the strange report?” the general asked.

  “White flags, Sir. The Chinese are surrendering. H Company commander reports he needs help handling the number of prisoners. It’s getting dangerous controlling all the hostiles but he doesn’t want to stop the surrenders.”

  “Tell him I’m on my way with help. Be there in thirty minutes,” Fuller said.

  General Fuller grabbed his gear and headed over to General Gale’s headquarters. He would need some of Gale’s troops to lend support. He didn’t want to tie up his frontline units with guard duty.

  “Ed, I need your help.”

  “I heard. Seems that our air campaign had the same effect that it did in Iraq. I’ll contact my commanders and load up,” Ed said.

  “Good. I’ll meet you in Renton,” General Fuller said as he left in his Jeep.

  As he headed north on Interstate 5, General Fuller soon ran into the column of Chinese prisoners heading south. His driver continued on as prisoners marched by, guarded by his men.

  Reaching Boeing Field, General Fuller found his company
commander.

  “General, I’m glad you’re here. I have another force that wants to surrender, but I don’t have any men left to guard them.”

  “I saw your men on the Interstate. We should have some relief guards when they reach the Sea-Tac Area. We’ll bundle them up in the hangers there for now. Only place big enough to hold them. Meanwhile I’ll get on the horn and get adjacent units to move in support,” Fuller said.

  Soon other units of the 12th Infantry showed up and the surrendering process continued. As the general stood watching, hundreds of Chinese soldiers went into captivity. He wondered why there was such a weak response from the enemy. The air attacks hadn’t been anywhere near as devastating as Iraq, he thought.

  As he watched the process, a captain with B Company came over. “Sir, we just pulled in an officer. He speaks English. Figured you might want to talk to him.”

  “I do, Captain. Have him placed away from any other prisoner so he can speak freely,” Fuller answered.

  As Fuller was about to interrogate the officer, a truck pulled up with the returning H Company personnel. General Gale was right behind.

  “Thought I’d personally return your Company. My troops have taken over guard duty.”

  “You’re just in time. I have a Chinese officer who seems to want to talk. Join me?”

  The two generals with their bodyguards headed to a building next to Boeing Field. A guard saluted and indicated that their prisoner was inside.

  As Fuller opened the door, he turned to the bodyguard. “You men can wait here.” As he and General Gale walked in, Ed took up a position against the wall while Fuller sat down in front of the prisoner.

  “General. In fact two generals. I feel honored,” the Chinese prisoner said.

  “Name and rank.”

  “Colonel Lee. Commander of the 3rd Battalion. 68th Infantry Division of the People’s Liberation Army of China,” Lee answered. “And you may ask what you please. I choose to surrender today.”