The 278th had been John’s old regiment and hearing about their extensive losses was especially difficult. “Oneida can add at least another thousand to that,” John told them.
General Brooks nodded, looking concerned. “That’s not a lot, given the Chinese are likely to hit us with at least ten brigades. What about equipment, Higgs? Tell me we have something to fight back with.”
Higgs didn’t look very confident. “Half a dozen M1A2 battle tanks, maybe twice that number of Bradleys. We’ve got a number of Humvees mounted with an assortment of M2 .50 cal machine guns, M240s, and MK19 40mm automatic grenade launchers. The good news is each of them came in towing M198 155mm Howitzers. On top of that we’ve got a number of surface-to-air Stinger missile launchers.”
“What about hand-held anti-armor?” John asked, recalling his concern over holding the various choke points.
“A bunch of AT-4s but no more than a few Javelins,” Col Higgs replied. “I’ll admit, more Javelins would have been better, but beggars can’t be choosers.”
General Brooks turned to John. “I see that you and your people have already begun setting up a defensive perimeter around Oneida.”
“That’s right,” John replied. “We were aiming for a defense in depth. Make the enemy pay for every inch. The town itself will represent our final stand.”
“I like it,” Brooks said, smiling for the second time today. “Given our meagre resources”—the general pointed to the four major roads into the city: Route 27 which covered the northern and southern approach, the 297 which covered the western approach and Route 456 in from the east—“reinforcing these key entry points with heavy machine guns and AT-4’s should slow them down. Blowing the western and southern bridges once the enemy has crossed is also an option.”
“The bridges have already been rigged with dynamite taken from the local coal mines,” John informed the general. “We’ve also planted IEDs a few hundred yards before and after the bridges to destroy the forward and rear elements of the enemy column, trapping them in a kill zone.”
Now it was Moss’ turn to beam at his handiwork. If he’d been born in Afghanistan, John’s head of security would have made a fine mujahedeen.
“If I may make a suggestion, General?” John requested.
Brooks set his hands on the table. “Go ahead.”
“If we move half of the artillery onto Owens Ridge, it’ll allow us to rain down shells on anything that comes within miles. Ideally we should establish target points at preset locations, designating them with names like TP1, TP2 and so on. That way forward observers can call in target points instead of long grid coordinates. It’ll save us time and if the enemy is listening in, they won’t know where the fire is directed.” John glanced down at the map. “I also suggest we hold the tanks and Bradleys back in town and use them as a quick reaction force.”
General Brooks agreed. “What about you, Higgs?” he asked. “What are your thoughts?”
“I think John’s right. We can’t expose the armor to attack from the air. Our best bet is to keep them well hidden within the city. If the enemy manages to move within range we can wear them down by shooting and scooting to predesignated fire points.”
“If they come at us,” General Brooks said with assurance, “it’ll be from the west along Route 297.”
John shook his head, uncertain how disagreeing openly with the general would go over. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Really?” Brooks replied.
“Well, the chances are the enemy will be stretched over a wide front. Oneida surely won’t be their prime objective, although they’ll want to secure the town because of the railroad running through it. Their main objective will be capturing Knoxville. I believe they’re more likely to move their armor along Interstate 40, sending a modest force north along Route 27.”
General Brooks went back to the map laid out before him. “I think it’s a mistake to over-think this, John. We’re going to defend each entry point, but the Chinese come at things head on. Look how they assaulted us over and over along the Mississippi. They’ll be coming from the west and that’s where we’ll set up the stiffest resistance.”
Even though John disagreed, there wasn’t any sense starting an argument. The truth was, none of them knew what the Chinese would do. One man’s guess was as good as the next.
Colonel Higgs then moved in, unfurling a map of Oneida he’d found in the town records. “The bulk of what we still have left to do will involve prepping the town for attack. Let me assure you, gentlemen, that urban warfare’s a messy business and I intend to make any assault on Oneida as painful as possible. There are generally two main approaches to city defense and both carry their own risks and rewards. One option is to allow the enemy to enter the city, drawing them into a trap. While an ambush-style tactic might bog the Chinese forces down, it’ll allow their dismounted infantry to gain a foothold within the outlying buildings, which could pose a problem. The other option is to defend along the perimeter of the town, reinforcing key structures and bringing the armor forward to engage targets as they come into view. By the time they breach the outer layers of defense, it won’t be a surprise that we’re here and ready for a fight.”
“How many of the men under you have previous combat experience?” General Brooks asked John.
“Not many, I’m afraid to say.”
Higgs made a clicking noise in his throat. “Then you’ll have your work cut out for you. When the Chinese do break through, we’re gonna need to channel them down Alberta Street. This’ll give us the best overlapping fields of fire.” Higgs stopped to take a drink of water. “Channelling the enemy along this corridor will mean filling the other approaches with debris and rubble to make them impassable.”
“We can move some wrecked cars in place for that,” Moss told them.
Higgs turned to John. “You’ll need to instruct your men firing from inside buildings to cut loopholes in the wall. They should avoid placing the muzzle too close to the opening or it could give them away. Standing or kneeling a few feet back is more than enough. Likewise, concealed heavy weapons emplacements should use a wet blanket or cloth to prevent dust from kicking up when the weapon is fired. And let your people know it’s always better to fire around a wall if they can, rather than over it.”
“Will do,” John confirmed, trying to keep track of everything the colonel was telling him. “Any suggestions on reinforcing the individual structures?”
“First of all, if it comes to urban combat, they shouldn’t be using doorways. Holes blown through the walls of adjacent buildings will allow our boys to reposition without exposing themselves to enemy fire. Likewise, stairways leading to second stories should be filled with furniture and covered with razor wire. Getting up and down will be accomplished by using ladders placed by holes cut in the floor. If the enemy enters the building, those ladders can be pulled up at a moment’s notice. The glass in the windows of outlying buildings should also be removed to prevent shards spraying in soldiers’ faces if they come under fire. But make sure to knock the glass in where possible to prevent giving the position away.”
They spent the next hour refining the strategies and tactics they would use to defend the town against attack. Much of it John already knew from the time he’d spent serving in the army, but as Higgs pointed out, many of the townsfolk under him would need to be briefed and prepped. During World War II, the Germans, desperate to defend Berlin against the Russians, had called up young boys and old men with little or no military training. In several instances the consequences had been disastrous. Instead of helping to bolster the city’s defenses, many of them had simply gotten in the way, blocking friendly fire, preventing the more experienced soldiers from doing their duty. With Moss’ help, John would make sure the people of Oneida would do everything in their power to keep the town from slipping into enemy hands.
Chapter 39
Not long after, John watched as the tanks and Bradleys were systematically hidden from v
iew. Some took shelter in hollowed-out buildings set up as concealed firing positions. Others were moved to areas thick with trees and covered with camo netting. Six of the M198 155mm Howitzers were being towed up Owens Ridge when John caught the first sounds of an approaching plane.
Captain Bishop was nearby overseeing the entrenchment of an Abrams tank when his ears perked up.
“It’s a prop plane,” John said. “Everyone to your positions, quick.”
Soldiers and civilians scrambled for cover. Others ran to the roofs of buildings to man Stinger missile launchers.
Was this the beginning of an attack or nothing more than a scouting mission? A second later, John spotted the plane. From here it looked like a Chinese Y-8 military transport plane, essentially a copy of a Russian An-12. The closest American counterpart was probably a C-130.
The chances that this was a bombing run or scouting mission began to lessen by the second.
John moved out of the street and toward an overhang where Capt. Bishop and some of his men were peering out at the aircraft above them.
“Any thoughts?” John asked.
In response, Bishop poked his finger into the air. “Take a look.”
A bundle fell from the rear hatch and John couldn’t help thinking it looked like a giant bird had just let one go. Soon the bundle broke apart into hundreds, maybe thousands of pieces, each fluttering through the air. The size grew larger and larger before John realized what was happening.
“They’re dropping leaflets,” he shouted.
The air defense crew stood down right away, since they’d been briefed that unless they were under imminent threat, it was important not to let the enemy know their capabilities until the last minute.
With thousands of leaflets seesawing through the air, John couldn’t help feel like he was watching some sort of bizarre ticker-tape parade. Before long, they were coming down all around them, landing on the pavement and the roofs of buildings. John bent down and picked one up.
Predictably, the English on the leaflet was laughable, but the core of the message was clear enough. The Chinese claimed to be on a humanitarian mission, promising safety, food and medical attention to those who didn’t resist.
“How comforting,” Captain Bishop exclaimed sarcastically, shaking out a propaganda note that had landed on his head. “I think I’ll turn myself over to the first Chinese grunt I see.”
His men burst into laughter as Bishop spat in his hand and used it to pat down a patch of errant blond hair.
Studying the paper in his hands, John knew he’d just found something for Emma to do.
•••
Not surprisingly, when John arrived at the mayor’s office, which doubled as the Mack family home and now the tactical headquarters, he found a flurry of activity. Down the hall was Emma’s room and when he knocked and let himself in, she wasn’t there. About to leave, he glanced out her window and spotted a familiar-looking figure sitting under the maple tree. He made his way outside and found his daughter studying one of the Chinese propaganda leaflets. She seemed positively transfixed by it.
“I didn’t expect to find you here,” he said as he drew closer.
She looked up, startled. “I looked out my window and thought it was snowing.”
“It was, I suppose. Little bits of paper scrawled with terrible English.”
“Do you think anyone will do what it says?” she asked.
“You mean surrender? I hope not. If they do they’ll go right to one of those camps.”
She broke eye contact. “You mean the one Gregory and Brandon are at?”
“Maybe, but more likely somewhere else. Either way it won’t be pleasant. Listen, Emma, I know I’ve given you a hard time about sitting in your room all day. I won’t bore you by going over it again. I think you already know where I’m coming from, but these leaflets got me thinking about a way you could help us out. Put your artistic side to good use.”
“You want me to make propaganda stuff?”
“I want you to create something we can drop into the concentration camps,” John told her. “Something that will give the people inside the reassurance that they haven’t been forgotten, that we know what’s being done to them. That we’re coming to set them free.”
“You wanna give them hope,” she said, her eyes watering with tears.
“Exactly.”
He knelt down and pulled his daughter into a firm hug at about the same time that Moss appeared.
“Sorry to bother you, John, but you better come quick. Reinforcements just arrived.”
John stood. “Reinforcements?” he asked, confused. “From where?”
“Huntsville... Winfield... Jamestown,” Moss told him, shaking his head in disbelief. “You name it. Not only that but they’ve brought food, supplies and weapons too.”
“All right,” John replied, his eyes dropping to the Chinese propaganda leaflet. “See that they’re set up in the community center for now.”
“You don’t understand, John. This ain’t a few families. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of them.”
Chapter 40
Two thousand, three hundred and twenty-five to be exact. What had seemed at first to be a blessing was quickly becoming a curse. Not only was the Chinese army fast approaching, snatching up more and more American territory as they pushed east, but Oneida was still suffering from a cholera epidemic. According to Dr. Coffey, the Pioneer Community hospital was bursting with patients. They had had to resort to having people sleep on wooden tables cut with holes to allow for the nastier parts of the sickness to wash away. All told, well over a hundred people had been infected and a quarter of those had already died. The report John had received from Dan Niles, the waste management guy, was even more disturbing. After extensive testing, the cause of the outbreak did not appear to be runoff of human waste. Although sabotage couldn’t be proven just yet, it was looking more and more likely every day.
Now on top of everything, a horde of people had showed up requiring a place to sleep. The logistics alone of logging everyone in by hand to Oneida’s town registry were a massive headache.
“We’re gonna need to transform the high school into a temporary dormitory to accommodate all these folks,” John said, rubbing his temples.
“No can do, boss,” Moss replied. “I’m afraid the army’s already using the school as a makeshift barracks.”
“Then what about the Wal-Mart?” John threw out on a whim.
Moss thought about it. “It’s pretty much been stripped bare. There may not be enough washrooms, but I suppose for now it could work.”
“Good. Then pass the message along to Ray Gruber. Have him lead them over there and see that they’re set up. They’ll need to get creative to find bedding until we can take care of them properly.”
“Roger that,” Moss replied and went to leave.
“Moss, one other thing.”
He planted his feet and turned. “Shoot.”
“Go through the new arrivals and pull out anyone who’s fired a weapon before. Although we expect the enemy armor to stick to the roads, the infantry can attack us from anywhere, so those perimeter rings need to be beefed up.”
“Understood.”
As Moss left to carry out his orders, John glanced up at the Highland veterinary hospital building next to them. Square, red-bricked and with a terrific line of sight down Alberta Street, it offered a strong defensive position. A handful of Captain Bishop’s men were busy knocking out the windows and reinforcing the firing holes with sandbags, installing a .50 cal machine gun recessed from the opening for concealment.
Similar work continued frantically for the next few hours. By dusk, the refugees were settled and the troops set to defend Oneida were dug in. John returned to the mayor’s office and made his way around to the back door that led directly into their living quarters. John was about to pull the handle to go inside when George squawked at him. He glanced back, letting the handle go. George waddled up to the edge of his enc
losure, peering back at him with his beady little eyes.
A strange kind of calm settled over John. Surrendering to fate was the best way he could describe it. They’d done everything they could to prepare for an attack. With any luck, the enemy would simply ignore the town altogether in its mad dash for the capital. Sometimes protecting the ones you loved meant pulling up stakes and running for your lives and sometimes it meant standing your ground. John’s conscience was clear. He reached out and stroked George’s tiny head, praying the price wouldn’t be too high.
The door opened and closed behind him.
“I think he’s lonely, you know.” It was Diane and he couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble in her voice.
John smirked. “You think he needs a girlfriend, is that it?”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t you think that’ll make him soft?”
Diane stifled a laugh. “I think you’ve already managed to sap whatever guard dog George had in him. Maybe it’s best to just accept the fact that you’ve turned him into a wuss.”
John cupped George’s head with both hands. “Don’t let her speak to you that way, George.”
Walking up to him, Diane slid her arms around his chest. He turned and held her.
“Have you seen Emma lately?” she asked.
“Why?”
“I found her in the center of town with her sketchpad, working on a flyer of some kind.”
“It’s nice to hear she’s out of her room,” John said. “I think she just needed to find something she excelled at.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you? It’s got John Mack written all over it.”
John shook his head. “I wish I could take credit, but it was all her.”
“Don’t you think it’s dangerous, John, giving hope to the poor souls imprisoned in those concentration camps? I mean, we don’t have any way yet of helping them break free.”
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