Dawn of the Tiger

by Gus Frazer

  With the final arrangements discussed, they mounted up and rode off into the still, quiet desert.

  They rode now using night-vision goggles, so that they could keep their headlights off. It was slow going, not because of the night-vision goggles — they projected an almost perfect full-colour image of the landscape ahead — but the harsh terrain made it impossible to travel any faster. Higgins regularly checked the GPS map, ticking off the distance to the target, directing the men every 50 metres to keep them on course.

  After two hours of rough and uncomfortable riding, they were close. Higgins addressed them over the comms unit. ‘All right, boys. Fifteen minutes. Remember your training, remember your job. When we stop, stay on your bikes until I tell you to dismount. No noise. I want absolute silence. The moment we stop, check your weapons quietly. I don’t want to hear anything metallic alerting the Chinese of the shitstorm we’re about to fuck them with.’

  The tension in the group was mounting. The last two hours had been spent with only the hum of the bikes breaking their thoughts. The anticipation was stifling.

  Finn’s gut was churning. He really needed to go to the toilet but there was no way he could do anything about it now. His mouth was dry and his heart was pounding. He had been visualising himself for the last two hours, running the attack through in his head. The trouble was he had only been able to visualise himself getting off the bike and dropping to the ground, waiting for orders. He just kept visualising the same action over and over. He couldn’t imagine anything past the point of dropping on the ground.

  ‘Ten minutes, boys,’ said Higgins’ voice calmly came over the comms unit. ‘When we’re on the ground and I give the order, we will be running to the fence line. We need speed and silence. Speed and silence,’ Higgins repeated.

  No one said a word. Finn nodded to himself. His eyes were wide under his goggles, his body stiff. Higgins switched his comms unit so it would only transmit to Finn, Carver and Jessop. ‘Breathe, guys. Think about your training.’ Finn concentrated on taking a few deep breaths — immediately feeling better.

  A couple of silent minutes passed. ‘Okay, boys. Five minutes. Let’s get frosty.’ Five more tense minutes passed before Higgins’ voice again came over the comms unit: ‘Right here, men,’ as Higgins rolled to a stop.

  Finn concentrated on his breathing, trying to stay focussed and slow his mind down, repeating the mantras that had been drilled into them during training.

  The bikes all rolled to quiet stops. Finn could see the lights of the camp, searing in the night-vision goggles. It looked big, like more than 30 troops might be sitting there waiting for them, thought Finn.

  Higgins jumped off his bike, double-checked his GPS, and then called Bravo team who responded immediately. They were in position and ready to move.

  ‘Dismount,’ said Higgins quietly. ‘Bravo team, move in. I repeat, move in,’ said Higgins into his helmet comms.

  ‘Copy that. Bravo moving in,’ replied the leader of Bravo team, which came through everyone’s integrated headsets.

  Turning to the rest of the men who had now gathered near the lead bike, Higgins waved his arm. ‘Let’s move out.’

  Finn’s legs felt heavy and useless. Running across the desert towards the lights, he felt out of control, as if someone with a remote was controlling his leaden legs. He forced himself to slow down, to regain control; the last thing he could risk now was a rolled ankle. As he ran he kept an eye on Bull, who was ahead and to the left of him.

  After a few minutes of running, they were 50 metres from the fence. Higgins raised his hand, ordering them to stop and get down. Dave dropped down and took up position with the silenced sniper rifle. Lifting the protective cap on the high-powered sight, a very faint green glow was emitted. Dave, who was a crack shot, would stay here until they breached the fence. His job was to take out the guards and he was already scoping out his targets, mentally assigning an order in which he would take them out as efficiently as possible.

  Higgins spoke into his comms. ‘Bravo, this is Alpha. Final position achieved. Are you ready to breach?’

  ‘Affirmative. In position, ready and waiting,’ came the reply.

  Higgins had one last look around at his men to ensure everyone was in position and ready. ‘Go for breach. I repeat, go for breach,’ waving to his men, ordering them to move up to the fence.

  Finn saw Bull get up and run. This was it, he thought as he hauled himself off the ground, running toward the fence line.

  The 50 metres to the fence line seemed to take forever. Finn felt utterly vulnerable, just waiting for the first bullet to lodge itself in his head. Every step closer to the fence felt like another step closer to death. Finally, after an agonising run, Finn quietly crouched down at the fence. He couldn’t believe that they’d made it this close to the camp without being spotted. Looking to his left, he saw Bull crouching down, going to work with his wire cutters. Finn fumbled with the cutters in his belt. Finally getting them out, he began shakily cutting at the fence. His hands got worse, to the point where he had to use two hands to keep the cutters steady. The tension was agonising; with every snip of wire Finn was convinced a guard would hear. But still nothing.

  Looking over, Bull was sliding through the fence. ‘Fuck,’ Finn whispered to himself, concentrating even harder on cutting the wire.

  Finally done, he pushed his rifle under the fence and then slid under himself. Looking down the fence line, Finn signalled Bull the all-clear. Bull looked back and gestured to his eyes. Finn, confused, took a second to realise that Bull was referring to his night-vision goggles. Finn hadn’t noticed how bright the display was. Lifting the unit from his head, he could see the camp was illuminated like daytime.

  Dave, who was watching their progress through his scope, now trained the rifle on the first of his targets standing on a tower at the northern end of the camp. Squeezing the trigger gently, the rifle dispatched a high-velocity round straight into the chest of the unsuspecting guard. The only sound from the rifle was a faint, dull thump of high-pressure air being released, which, from his distance, was virtually silent.

  Quickly, Dave moved on to his next targets, professionally and economically taking out guard after guard in the pre-assigned order he had established earlier in his head.

  Higgins gave the order to engage. Finn stood and, like the others, put his rifle to his shoulder, knees bent, both eyes open, sweeping his weapon and his gaze to find targets, just as he had been trained. The first shot came from Higgins, who spotted a soldier coming out of the latrine. The noise destroyed the quiet of the camp. Seconds later came a piercing siren and a flood of lights around the compound.

  Deafening noise erupted.

  Movement everywhere.

  The air alive with bullets.

  Fear.

  Screams of panic.

  Screams of pain.

  The fighting raged for 20 minutes. For Finn it felt like an eternity. But then the Chinese were surrendering, throwing down their weapons, kneeling and putting their hands behind their heads. Finn registered this with a shock of disbelief. They were surrendering.

  Bravo and Alpha teams converged on the centre of the compound to organise a clean-up. They had to go through the entire camp and lay their explosive charges and get out before the Sankaku attack helicopters responded. Luckily for them, it seemed that their action in the north was keeping the San’s occupied.

  Higgins and Mac, the highly-experienced soldier who led Bravo team, went in search of intelligence, while Bravo team set up the explosives and Alpha team processed the prisoners. There was no way they could take the captured soldiers with them, so they had to be marched out into the desert.

  Higgins and Mac went into the communications building and found what they were after — Solid State Computers (SSCs), innocuous-looking small black rectangular boxes, small enough to fit comfortably in the palm of a hand. The SSCs had no moving parts, no wires, no heat signature, no inputs and no outputs, nothing that could
be damaged or broken, yet they were capable of holding up to a petabyte of data. The only way to access the information inside them was through coded wireless technology, which the Australian Militech teams were just starting to learn how to break.

  ‘Take the office next door, Mac. I’ll clean this lot up,’ said Higgins.

  ‘On it,’ replied Mac. ‘I wonder if there’s any Chinese porn on these things,’ said Mac with a chuckle, examining an SSC.

  ‘Only the highly classified stuff I would imagine,’ said Higgins, in no mood to joke. ‘Make it quick, Mac. We’ve probably got 15 minutes to be the hell away from this place.’

  ‘Understood,’ said Mac, walking into the office.

  A single shot rang out in the small room. Higgins dropped the SSCs he was carrying onto a desk and unholstered his side-arm, bringing it up to take aim at the dark doorway. He leapt forward and threw himself against the thin wall beside the door.

  ‘Mac, you there?’ yelled Higgins.

  Nothing, no response. ‘Shit,’ whispered Higgins to himself. Looking slowly and carefully around the corner, he saw Mac’s lifeless body on the ground.

  Bull and Finn, hearing the shot from where they were processing the captives, ran to the building and burst through the door from the outside, weapons at the ready. Higgins gestured to them to keep quiet, to take the SSCs they had secured and to retreat back out the door. He showed them the grenade he had in his hand. They got the message and backed out the door without closing it. Higgins knew there was no time to flush this resistant fucker out — he could only neutralise him. Silently and slowly he pulled the San on the grenade, let go of the catch and waited two seconds. Rolling the grenade into the room, he ran for the door. When he was just out the front door, the grenade did what it was meant to do — the shockwave from the blast sent Higgins flying to the ground. The flimsy building did not hold up well. The outside wall, where the office was, virtually disintegrated leaving a gaping hole in the side of the building.

  Picking himself up off the ground, Higgins walked purposefully back to the destroyed building. Finn followed him, not really sure why.

  ‘Sarge, what are you doing? We gotta get out of here,’ yelled Finn.

  ‘Just checking something,’ replied Higgins coldly.

  Finn followed him into the smoking shell of the building. Higgins walked into the room where he’d thrown the grenade. Looking around, he found what he was after.

  The Chinese soldier lay on the ground, his face badly burnt and his body wrecked but, amazingly, still alive.

  ‘Jesus, he’s alive,’ stuttered Finn, unable to pull his eyes away from the ruined face of the soldier.

  Higgins looked at Finn and put his boot on the soldier’s chest, causing him to cough blood. Finn was shocked and confused.

  ‘What are you doing, Sarge?’

  Higgins kept looking at Finn as he unholstered his side-arm. Drawing the weapon down to the dying soldier’s head, he fired once.

  Finn recoiled from the sight of the man’s head exploding, spraying Higgins’ boot with blood.

  ‘Now we can go,’ said Higgins, striding past Finn who was still staring at the soldier, his mouth open, shocked.

  Outside, Higgins walked up to the others. ‘All right. Are the charges set?’

  ‘Yessir,’ came the reply from the next-in-command of Bravo team.

  ‘Good.’ Higgins turned to Finn, McCaw and Jessop and gestured at the line of kneeling, blindfolded prisoners that their team had restrained. ‘March these fuckers out into the desert and meet us at the bikes.’

  ‘Yessir,’ said McCaw, as he kicked one of the prisoners seated on the ground.

  ‘Let’s get the fuck out of here,’ said Higgins, picking up the SSCs and walking off towards the main gates on his own.

  A short march and they made it back to the bikes. The prisoners were forced to kneel, blindfolded and bound, berated and beaten by McCaw and Jessop. They seemed to be taking too much pleasure in it, and Finn felt disgusted by the way they were treating the prisoners — which was strange, given he had just shot and killed some of their compatriots. He was now cold and exhausted — the adrenalin had worn off. Higgins arrived not long after, with Bull, Carver, Dave and Marks. It looked like they’d all made it out, which was a miracle. Heaving his pack onto his bike, Higgins didn’t say a word. He was still in operation mode and clearly very focussed. Rummaging through the pack, he pulled out a large pair of wire cutters. Holding them in his right hand he walked directly to the prisoners.

  Finn, who had been slouching against a rock, straightened as he wondered what Higgins was about to do with the cutters. Higgins looked like a man possessed. He marched up to the first prisoner and bent down behind the man. Finn suddenly felt the jolt of his senses becoming hyper-aware again. A loud snap and the prisoner’s arms were released. The man lurched forward. Higgins moved on to the next. Finn felt relief at first, and then confusion.

  ‘Sarge, what are you doing?’ asked Finn incredulously.

  ‘Releasing the prisoners. What does it look like?’

  ‘But shouldn’t we take them back for questioning?’

  ‘Can’t risk it. Easier just to let them go. If they found our base we’d be compromised,’ said Higgins in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘And don’t worry about them starving in the desert, they’ll get picked up once their drones find them.’

  Higgins ordered the prisoners to start walking and to keep their blindfolds on. He signalled his men to get back on their motorbikes.

  The journey back was uneventful. The mission had been an enormous success but as they retreated, so too did the energy and high of the attack. Finn felt weak, his arms were heavy and his legs felt like lead.

  Reaching the base, the men pulled up outside the cave where Lieutenant Taylor greeted them. The men unloaded their motorbikes quietly and efficiently while Higgins walked off with Taylor to discuss the mission.

  Chapter 12

  Both prongs of the attack had been successful — the fuel depot had been neutralised with minimal Australian casualties, and the outpost had been completely destroyed. Soon after the news of the Australian army’s success was widely publicised, however, reports followed about the inevitable reprisals on townships near where the attacks took place. The Chinese had levelled some tiny townships and caused at least 150 civilian casualties and an unconfirmed 30 fatalities.

  General Stephens and Fletcher were in Stephens’ office in the SOF, reviewing reports on the damage that had been inflicted in the attacks. Images flickered on the screen before them, detailing the carnage.

  ‘Goddammit,’ sighed General Stephens wearily, ‘we knew this was on the cards, but did they have to go so far?’

  ‘I know, Marty. They’ve gone too far now, especially after all their promises of not targeting civilians,’ replied Fletcher.

  ‘That’s it. I’ve had enough of this. Time to put some more heat on China. I’m not going to sit by and let them get away with attacking our people,’ said Stephens, visibly upset. Calling his secretary, he asked to be put through to Ambassador Xian.

  General Stephens sat in silence for the minute that it took to get the Ambassador on the line.

  ‘General Stephens, how can I help you?’ said Xian, in a calm and unctuous tone.

  ‘How dare you … how dare you take action against Australian civilians, Xian,’ said Stephens hoarsely.

  ‘You give us no choice, General. You continue to wage war against us, damaging our property and killing our soldiers.’

  ‘That does not give you the right to injure and kill civilians!’

  ‘Perhaps not, but it gives us the right to defend our infrastructure, General Stephens.’

  ‘Your infrastructure?’ Stephens repeated incredulously. ‘What are you talking about, Xian? It is in fact largely our infrastructure, our land, and our people. You invaded us. Remember?’

  ‘General, please, you must remember the agreement we made, that we would not involve your people — so long as you d
id not interfere with our mining.’

  ‘That was not an agreement, that was a command from your country — something the Australian people never agreed to,’ said the general, his rage building to a fever pitch.

  Xian was now feeding off General Stephens’ anger. ‘Cease with these puny guerrilla attacks on our facilities and we will have no need to retaliate, General. You have the power to stop it immediately.’

  ‘I want you out of the country, Xian — you and all your cronies. China has crossed a line that the Australian people will not tolerate.’

  This threat seemed to sober Xian. ‘General, please. It is imperative that we maintain diplomatic communications. If I am not here I fear that our leaders in China may not be so amenable,’ Xian said in a pleading tone. ‘I have had to persuade them many times to minimise their military action against Australia.’

  ‘I, and the Australian people, have now seen how you “minimise” military action, Xian. Get out. Now.’ With that, Stephens cut the connection. He looked up at Fletcher in disbelief.

  ‘My god, Fletch. What have I done?’

  ‘You’ve done the right thing, Marty. I think we have crossed a line — a line that we needed to cross if we are to get the Chinese off our land.’ Fletcher’s tone was calm and firm.

  ‘Make sure Xian and all his staff are on a plane tonight, Fletch. I want to make sure the Chinese get the message that we’re no longer playing by their rules.’

  ‘Of course, Marty. I’ll see to it myself,’ replied Fletcher, turning to walk out.

  Alone in his office, the light from his screen, showing graphic image after graphic image of civilian suffering, flickered across Stephens’ face.