The Battle for Houston...The Aftermath

by T I WADE

  They were already fitted with external fuel tanks, added before they left San Diego to aid in the transfer of food and supplies to the Alaskan outlying areas. The extra fuel increased their range to 700 miles. Even with the added fuel weight, they could have ten men crammed into them with gear.

  After two hours flying they caught up with the fleet; the helicopters transferred the men and headed back for the next two platoons of Seal Team Six before the ships got out of their range of Elmendorf, in twelve hours’ time.

  To the Seals, the submarines were a home away from home. They had spent time aboard larger, more modern craft for training and extraction, but these Tang class were much older and smaller, and one could feel the coldness of the water outside invading the entire, more tightly packed craft.

  Flights with men and parachutes were arriving into Elmendorf from Quantico, Pendleton and Camp Lejeune in 747s, while C-130s were transferring supplies onto the shorter runway at Dillingham Airport 600 miles to the west, where General Patterson was setting up his forward headquarters. Dillingham was the closest he could get to Cold Bay; from the small outpost it was a shorter 300-mile flight.

  The 2,000-odd townsfolk of Dillingham hadn’t seen so much action for decades.

  At full speed and meeting up with the supply ship, sailing due north to connect up with them, the submarines were refueled on the surface. They took on more than enough diesel fuel to get to their destination and dived to continue the journey.

  Forty-eight hours later, it was time for the Seals to use their underwater equipment recently lined aboard the submarines from the frigates. The three helicopters had relocated to Dillingham a day earlier to be able to supply equipment aboard the frigates.

  Up to this time, the frigates had stayed 120 miles out to sea, so that the enemy radar wouldn’t notice the low flying helicopters.

  One of the frigates headed closer to shore, keeping a large island land mass between her and the Cold Bay airport. South of the island, the equipment was passed by rope and then lines to the submarines, thirty miles from the landing beach, and then underwater, the submarines aimed to get to within 300 yards of the beach at a 30-foot depth to allow the men to surface.

  Charlie Meyers and Joe Paul would lead the first two groups of six men in their respective submarines to be “blown” to the surface. It was a simple affair. Each man had the use of a single scuba tank firmly attached to the wall of the escape chamber. The chamber was dimly lit and they sat around the chamber wearing rubber dry suits over their uniforms to keep out the cold water. Only their heads were outside the suits and the top of the suits tight around their necks. Each man placed a waterproof pack of equipment in his lap: weapons, ammo, food and, blankets for warmth. One held a radio.

  The chamber door was closed and sea water pumped in. Each man breathed from his inverted scuba tank until their leader unscrewed the large, watertight, six-inch-thick steel hatch to the outside. Once the pressure had equalized, he pushed hard to open the hatch. Then, one by one, the men grabbed a piece of thick cloth tied to four different places on his pack and from his mouthpiece filled the cavity underneath the cloth with air, let the pack float out of the chamber and he, taking a last gulp of air, followed it upwards, breathing out all the way to the dark surface 30 feet above.

  Within 40 seconds the soldier and the pack reached the surface three hundred yards offshore. The second to last man took the last man’s pack, which left Charlie Meyers to take his last breath, leave the chamber and close it from the outside, screwing down the hatch so that the water could be pumped out for the next six guys. He took a small float with him as he left. This was to help anybody struggling on the surface.

  The water was icy cold around their heads as each man kicked and reached the surface; underwater goggles kept their eyes dry, snorkels helped them breathe, and flippers propelled them, as they waited for the entire team to surface, each man holding the inflated cloth with the heavy backpack next to him.

  “Count off men,” ordered Charlie, and he heard five men respond. The water was still cold on the surface as they silently moved towards the black-lined beach.

  The next load of six men would do exactly the same. They were lucky that the night was dark with little wind and the sea relatively calm. Three hours later sixty-three Seals and one air force pilot were accounted for on dry land, the last of them still climbing out of their dry suits.

  The next night, when it was time for the next team, six men would swim bags of the suits back on a small black float and, with rope, the next team would pull them down back into the submarine to hide the evidence. The last suits would be swum back by a couple of sailors in suits, pulled into the submerged craft, and all evidence of any men swimming ashore would disappear.

  “OK, guys,” said Charlie quietly, as several of the men gathered around while the others were already on watch. The last men undid their packs and wrapped themselves in blankets to warm up after the swim in frigid water. “I will go forward to scout the area. You two guys get the couple of Chinese uniforms out and try to keep them from looking a mess. Those silly red uniforms are about ten sizes too small for me. Major Wong, did your quick scuba course help you? Sorry you couldn’t practice in real water inside the submarine, but you seem to have survived.”

  “As I told you guys, we did a little downed aircraft evacuation in the air force and yes, Lieutenant Meyers, I am here and I‘m alive! Were you guys taking bets on whether an air force pilot could handle it?” asked a smiling, but shivering Major Wong.

  “Might have, Major,” smiled Charlie back at him. He had seen this small guy fly several different aircraft already and had a lot of respect for the air force major. “Major Wong and Sergeant Rodriquez, I think you guys are the only ones small enough to fit into those clown uniforms. Get them on and we’ll go with one more man watching our backs. Sergeant Mendez, you come with me as back up and stay a hundred feet behind me. Grab your two silencers. I want the silencer on your Glocks and your sniper rifles in case we are expected. The boss said that it is three miles to the runway, so we will check that out first; I‘ll radio back to the rest of you. Joe, take command of our rear guard and get everything moved to whatever is good cover at the old airfield once we give the OK. My team will go on and scout the perimeter of the larger runway and we will be back at the first runway by dawn.”

  With orders given and clothing arranged, the four men set off in the northerly direction towards the airfield. The wind was from the north would help cancel out any noises made by them if someone was listening.

  The first, older dirt airfield was barren and empty. Admiral Rogers was right when he had described ruins. There was not much left, only a few walls and a part of a roof on a couple of the smaller buildings. Enough to keep equipment dry if it rained and they were sure it would. It actually started twenty minutes later; as the night went darker, rain clouds passed overhead and a very light drizzle began to wet them.

  There was an old path from the beach area north of where they came ashore and it led them to the old runway, and then further north towards the main town and airport at Cold Bay.

  Charlie Meyers, a mile north of the dirt runway radioed the rear group to tell them to move towards the first runway, warned that there wasn’t much vegetation or hills to hide movement, and there was an old road to the west of the runway, which had recent tire tracks, a Chinese jeep by the look of it, so hide all foot tracks.

  He and his men had also begun to sweep their tracks, once they came across the larger road leading into the old runway.

  Suddenly Charlie Myers crouched down and the three men behind him did the same. He heard a faint snore, a human snore, yards in front of him. With hand movements he told Rodriquez and Wong to stay down, their lighter uniforms were easier to be seen. After giving more hand signals, he headed left to flank the area in front and Mendez went to the right. A slight misty breeze had helped to send the noise south.

  Fifty yards north, and directly on the path, they came acros
s a heavily camouflaged anti-aircraft defense missile system on the rear of a Chinese jeep.

  Both men crawled in as close as they could; the area had sparse ground cover, only grass a foot or so high. Charlie could see two men, both asleep, and they were wearing the same uniforms as Major Wong was wearing. He returned to the others.

  Major, there are two men just north of us manning a mobile missile launcher on the back of a jeep,” whispered Charlie to the three men gathered around him. “You and Rodriquez head up the road and we will cover you from several yards to their south; the light is better against the darker north sky to see what is going on. They are Chinese, asleep, and I’m sure they are not meant to be. Sneak back like a Chinese officer would to catch them asleep and then ask them these questions. Mendez and I will cover you. Once done, leave them be. I don’t want any alarm signals of missing men just yet. Rodriquez, you don’t speak a word of Chinese, just grunt and look like you are the man’s aide or something. Write notes; you don’t need weapons.”

  Twenty minutes later Major Wong quietly sneaked up to the side of the jeep with Sergeant Rodriquez a step behind and had to literally shake the men awake.

  “Both of you sleeping at your position! Didn’t I hear orders last month that at least one man must always remain awake?” stated Major Wong in Chinese to the two surprised and sleepy men, both wrapped up in blankets, and who were trying to assemble themselves in a erect and proper guard position.

  “Yes, Sir, Sergeant!” One man shouted out.

  “No need to wake the others, I’m going to inspect them after you,” stated Major Wong keeping his voice down. He suddenly realized he had to check his dark jacket to see what his rank and name was and realized that the former wearer’s name, above the upper left breast pocket, was that of a lowly Sergeant Chee, so he acted like one. “You are lucky I’m only a sergeant and not an officer. They would not be as kind as I am.” Then he remembered the questions he was to ask them.

  “How long have you been guarding this launcher? Maybe it is time to move you to another one. How many of the launchers have you guarded in the last few weeks, Private?”

  “Private Fung, Sergeant. Just the three south of the runway, Sergeant. We are scheduled to move to one of the northern jeeps tomorrow night, Sergeant.”

  “And the other placements?” he asked, immediately realizing that there weren’t any. The man looked puzzled. “Just testing you! Who is your commander?”

  Corporal Zeng and then Sergeant Ma, Sergeant,” the private replied.

  “And since you have been asleep for most of the night, can you remember your password for tomorrow morning to return to the airfield?”

  “Yes, Sergeant! Tomorrow morning’s password is ‘turnip’”.

  “OK, I need to make a report, but I will not mention this misconduct. What building is your platoon in, Private Fung?”

  “Block three, by the mess hall, Sergeant.”

  The two men left the worried-looking guards to man their jeep, and headed east along the length of the long runway, as if to head to the next missile emplacement.

  Charlie Meyers sneaked up to them while they were walking and “Sergeant Chee” told them what he had learned.

  Ten minutes later they silently found the second jeep, several hundred yards from the first one. Again the two guards were asleep and much the same happened. This time Wong had three different questions to ask.

  Once the men were awake, he began. “Private, tomorrow’s pass code is lettuce, tomato or turnip, which one is correct?”

  “Turnip, Sergeant.”

  “Excellent, at least sleeping didn’t deprive you of your intelligence. Maybe it has helped your memory. Let’s see? “How many American civilians are on base?”

  “Only the one block of prisoners remains, Sergeant, and the VIPs. The rest left months ago.”

  “I know that, stupid!” How many Americans in that block was my question?”

  “I don’t know, Sergeant. We are never allowed to mix with them, but yesterday morning on parade, I saw about a hundred.”

  “Well done, Private. Let us see if your sleepy commander, the Lance Corporal is just as intelligent. How many of our glorious soldiers were on base today?”

  “I have never counted, but at parade yesterday there were the usual three battalions, Sergeant!”

  “I know that, you stupid soldier. How many soldiers in a battalion? That is a question you might be asked for your next promotion.”

  “I have been studying, Sergeant! Normal modern Chinese army battalions, 700, Sergeant; our Zedong Red Army Battalions, 900 men, Sergeant!” the man responded proudly.”

  “Since you are good men, I will let this sleeping-on-guard misconduct pass. Now stay awake and he left.

  Again the information was passed to Charlie Meyers as they moved along outside the perimeter of the southern side of the airport and found the third jeep, this time both men were awake.

  “Well done, Privates. You are the first guards I found awake tonight. I will tell your superior, Sergeant Ma, I believe?” The men nodded looking tired. “Do you remember the password for the morning?” Both men were better than the last and nodded that they did, and also kept their mouths shut. “Turnip, right?” Again they nodded. “Let’s see if you are really awake. How many missile emplacements are north of the runway, Private?” stated Wong peering at the man’s name on his Zedong Electronics’ military tunic. The weather had lightened slightly and he could just about see the man’s name on his tunic.

  “Two jeeps, Sergeant,” the private replied.

  “Private, how many machine gun, mortar or artillery emplacements are stationed outside the airport fence?”

  “None, Sir, they are all inside the fence,” the man responded thinking that he had been asked a trick question.

  “You men are really awake. First Private, if we have three missile emplacements south of the airport and two north, how many more are there?”

  “A trick question again, Sergeant?” the Private replied, smiling and now at ease. “Five is the correct number Sergeant.”

  “Well done men. In my report I will mention to Sergeant Ma that his men at this missile emplacement were alert and ready for action. Now, don’t forget your password tomorrow morning,” and he turned, with Sergeant Rodriquez following him into the darkness.

  * * *

  Back at Elmendorf, the last of the aircraft were preparing to head to Dillingham, which now looked like the whole U.S. Air Force had come to visit. The runway was long enough for all the aircraft, except the 747s. It hadn’t been built to carry such large and heavy aircraft, so all the cargo and supplies came in on C-130s. Tents by the dozens, large, medium and small went up in hours of the men arriving. The locals were excited to see two F-4 Phantoms arrive and a couple of hours later two F-5s come in, old and still very noisy jets.

  The next day, two more F-4s arrived in between a constant stream of C-130s bringing in arms, fuel and supplies. Then six Z-10 helicopters arrived just before dark. These caused interest, as two of them still had their Chinese air force paintjobs and four had U.S. air force colors.

  Now it was time for the three Mustangs to make an appearance. Early the next morning, Martie, Preston and Carlos landed and, this time many came out to see the old World War II aircraft; this was something the two oldest gentlemen hadn’t seen at Dillingham for well over half a century.

  Finally, the second group of six Z-10s arrived, and with them several different types of American helicopters; mostly old naval Seahawks, a Jolly Green Giant and two Hueys.

  Overnight the town’s population grew ten-fold as the Seals and Marines, a company of a hundred men per C-130, arrived and were dropped off with tents and equipment. Twenty aircraft worked all night to bring them in and by morning, two of the larger helicopters headed out and were to return throughout the day with pieces of artillery slung underneath.

  The second load of Seal Team Six, commandeered by Lieutenant Murphy were waking up on the frigates, wit
h the submarines now alongside and thirty miles off shore. The ships were now stationed south of the large island and due south of Cold Bay. The calm weather had changed somewhat in the area, the cloud layer had descended down to 1,000 feet and there was a non-stop windy drizzle.

  * * *

  “Hey, General, are you awake yet?” Charlie Meyers called into his satellite phone ten minutes before dawn.

  “Yes, Lieutenant Meyers, I was awaiting your call,” the general replied smiling. He was getting to like this ugly-looking Seal.

  “Your Major Wong did a great job. Ok, got something to write with?” and the general replied that he had.

  “Five modern anti-aircraft missile emplacements on jeeps, three south of the runway and two locations north. They look like permanent fixtures as their tires haven’t moved for days. I haven’t studied Chinese crap for a while but believe them to be swivel HQ-7s, older models with four missiles per jeep. They are the only armaments outside the airport perimeter. I believe there is enough firepower to bring down your entire air force, General.” Patterson agreed. “There are three battalions of 2,700 men inside the airport and I believe approximately 100 American prisoners inside, the town’s residential population, I would assume.”

  “Sound like the right number,” Patterson replied.

  “That’s it for now. I’m going to get Major Wong in there in an hour. He can give us a good idea of what to expect. He is the only guy who can go in during daylight and then, we might go in and visit after dark, depending if we can get in and out undetected.”

  “Wong is good, he has done this often, and I did get a Chinese Colonel’s uniform packed somewhere in your supplies. It has his real name on it and that should be enough to give him freedom to roam,” added the general.

  “Right, General. He seemed a little perplexed in a sergeant’s uniform last night!” laughed Charlie.