Battlefield Russia

by James Rosone

  The battalion sergeant major came by and made Captain Long painfully aware that he needed to do what he could to visit the other company positions and check on them. There was also a regimental briefing at 2100 hours that he’d need to head back for. This was the part of being an officer Long hated. When he’d been an NCO, his only job was to make sure his squad and then platoon were taken care of. Now he was responsible for the lives of nearly seven hundred Marines; it was an enormous responsibility.

  Thankfully, that evening at the regimental briefing, Captain Long learned that the executive officer from their sister battalion was being moved over to take command of the battalion from him. Long instantly liked the guy—Major Brian Noble was a hard-chargin’ Marines’ Marine. He’d started the war as a first lieutenant and moved through the ranks quickly, like a lot of Marines had given the significant casualty numbers.

  Like Captain Long, Major Noble had a chest full of medals. He’d been wounded once and had received the Silver Star along with two Bronze Stars. Long had him beat with two Purple Hearts and the Navy Cross, but both of them were the type of leaders who liked to lead from the front, in the thick of the action with their men.

  That evening, when Long and Noble got back to the basecamp, Major Noble pulled Captain Long aside. “Hey, I want to make sure that you’ll be my second-in-command in case something happens,” he asked.

  “It would be a privilege, Sir,” Captain Long replied.

  “OK, when we return to the front tomorrow, I will embed with Alpha Company, and I want you to resume command of Echo,” Major Noble directed.

  “Sounds like a plan, Sir,” Long answered.

  *******

  Captain Long had only managed to get maybe two or three hours of fitful sleep. The previous day had been brutal. Their battalion had encountered a much larger force than they had originally thought would be there. They’d taken a number of casualties, forcing the regiment to shift another battalion over to assist them in breaking through the enemy lines.

  Since he couldn’t sleep, Captain Long silently crept around with his first sergeant, checking on each of his platoons before the morning light signaled the beginning of the new day. It was 0600 hours as the predawn light slowly crept over the mountains that encircled the valley and reservoir. In another thirty minutes or so, it would be light.

  When he’d finished checking on his platoons, Captain Long took the opportunity to grab an MRE from his ruck, reminding himself that he needed to eat if he was to keep up his strength and energy. Looking at the mystery surprise, he saw he had pulled Menu 1: spaghetti with meat sauce.

  “Hmm…at least it comes with the cheese spread,” he thought. He opened the bag and began to assemble his morning meal. He hadn’t had time to eat most of the day before and was paying for it with a lack of energy now. The body can fight through a lack of sleep, but only if it is properly fueled.

  Three bites into his meal, the morning silence was shattered by a large BOOM and the sudden chattering of one of their heavy machine guns. A number of other rifles were firing near the perimeter. Captain Long stuffed his spoon back in the food pouch and turned to his radioman, who seldom ever left his side. “Corporal Perez, get me a SITREP from Staff Sergeant Jenkins!” he ordered.

  Within a minute, the gunfire died down and eventually stopped altogether. At that point, Staff Sergeant Jenkins came on the radio. “Sir, it appears a small team of enemy soldiers hit one of our trip flares as they moved parallel to our lines. Corporal Dungy triggered his Claymore as soon as he saw the enemy soldiers, then one of the other privates manning the M204G raked the area with gunfire.”

  “Did they return fire? Did we take any casualties?” Captain Long inquired.

  “Negative, Sir. The enemy never had a chance,” Staff Sergeant Jenkins answered. “I have no idea how many enemy soldiers are still out there, though, or how many we killed. It’s still too dark for us to see much, and our night vision can’t see through the thick vegetation. If you can send a runner over with the thermals, I might be able to get you a better answer.”

  The scopes were in high demand, and unfortunately, three of the five scopes assigned to their battalion had been destroyed in the first day of fighting. A fourth was destroyed when the lieutenant operating it had been blown up during an enemy artillery barrage.

  “Copy that, Staff Sergeant. I’m sending Lance Corporal Able to you with the scope. I want a SITREP ASAP. We’ll stand by to launch some illumination rounds once you’ve had a chance to use the scope.”

  Five long minutes went by before he received an urgent call from Staff Sergeant Jenkins. “Sir, we’ve got trouble,” he said. “I believe that group of enemy soldiers we just smoked was the point element for a much larger enemy force. I can’t get you a head count, but there have to be more than fifty soldiers fanning out into an assault line maybe two or three hundred meters to our front.”

  “Copy that,” Long answered. “Start waking everyone up and tell them to get ready. I’m going to work on getting us some illumination rounds. I need you to relay to Corporal Perez some coordinates for the artillery, so we can get this information back to regiment.”

  Corporal Perez pulled out a pen and notebook from his pocket and took down the coordinates from Staff Sergeant Jenkins.

  “Ripper One-One, Pit Bull Six. How copy?” said his RTO.

  “Pit Bull Six, Ripper One-One. Good copy. What do you have for us?” asked the artilleryman.

  “Fire mission. Troops in contact,” explained the RTO. “Need one round illumination, grid TW 3456 4765, five-hundred-meter airburst. Break. One round HE, grid TW 3456 4765. Break. One round HE, grid TW 3469 4521. How copy?”

  “Good copy on all. Stand by,” relayed the artillery battery.

  After a moment of silence, a crackle went over the radio. “Shots out,” announced the artilleryman.

  A couple of minutes went by, and then they heard the loud whistle of the rounds flying fast overhead until they slammed into their plotted positions. Looking beyond the perimeter, Captain Long saw the two bright explosions from the HE rounds impact and then the sudden blaring brightness of the illumination round, igniting a thousand feet above the location of the enemy soldiers. In another twenty minutes, they wouldn’t have needed the illumination round at all.

  What Long saw next was horrifying. The entire ground suddenly appeared to move as enemy troops advanced. Hundreds of little lights flickered, and then thousands of bullets zoomed through the air, hitting everything around Captain Long’s perimeter. The barrage of enemy fire directed at their positions was relentless as many bullets found their marks. Wounded Marines called out for corpsmen.

  The roar of hundreds of voices screaming at the tops of their lungs thundered as the Chinese charged forward. This roar was soon intermixed with thunderous booms as his Marines detonated their Claymore mines. His Marines steadily returned fire, tearing into the ranks of the attackers as they pressed their own attack forward, desperately trying to close the distance between themselves and the Marines.

  Long was still holding the radio receiver connecting him to the division artillery, so he depressed the talk button and shouted to be heard over the cacophony of gunfire and screaming going on all around him. “Ripper One-One! Good hit! Repeat fire mission. Fire for effect. Five rounds HE. We’re about to be overrun. Keep ‘em coming!”

  Corporal Perez interrupted him as soon as he finished talking to the artillery battery, shoving another handset at him. “It’s Captain Flowers from Charlie Company!” he shouted.

  “This is Long!” he yelled.

  Captain Long heard rifle fire and explosions in the background of the radio as Captain Flowers tried to relay what was happening on his end. “We’re getting hit hard on the right flank. I estimate at least a battalion’s worth of enemy soldiers. We need artillery support—can you get us some?”

  “Flowers, I’ve got a fire mission coming in right now across our entire perimeter,” Captain Long answered. “Have one of your g
uys start to relay any additional coordinates you have to Corporal Perez. Hold the line no matter what, Captain Flowers. Help is on the way!”

  Seeing a swarm of enemy soldiers nearly upon his perimeter, Captain Long raised his rifle and fired at a group of PLA soldiers who were charging right for one of his machine gunners. The first two guys he fired at went down quickly. Captain Long had shifted fire to a third guy, but he was stopped in his tracks when an RPG flew over the heads of the Marines he was trying to protect and slammed into a tree several meters to his right.

  He winced in pain as he felt something hit his right arm and shoulder. Long steadied himself and again aimed at the PLA soldiers, who were now fighting hand-to-hand with his Marines on the perimeter. The machine gunner he’d been trying to protect was now lying on the ground on his back with a PLA soldier straddling him. The Chinese soldier was trying to press his knife into the young man’s chest. Long aimed at the pair as they struggled for survival, depressing the trigger once. He watched his bullet hit the Chinese soldier squarely in the head. The man went limp on the young Marine, who proceeded to throw him to the side as he once again scrambled to get behind his M240G. In mere seconds, he was continuing to lay down suppressive fire.

  Captain Long turned to look for his first sergeant and saw the man slumped against a rock, half of his face missing from the RPG’s shrapnel. Corporal Perez was on the radio, calling for more artillery fire.

  Snap, crack, boom!

  Bullets continued to hit the tree he had been using for cover while others zipped past his head and to either side of the tree. A hand grenade went off near the machine gunner he had just saved a moment ago, killing the young Marine.

  Captain Long’s heart sank. He had to get that machine gun operational again. It was the only thing keeping the enemy at bay.

  “Perez! Follow me!” he shouted to his RTO. He leapt up, his rifle pressed to his shoulder as he charged the enemy, systematically killing as many of them as he could with each shot fired.

  It took Long a minute to rush the twenty meters to the fallen Marine’s position. As he neared the machine gun, he dropped his empty magazine and slapped a fresh one in its place. Jumping into the hastily built foxhole, he grabbed the M240G and placed it snug against his shoulder. Then he proceeded to let loose a long string of rounds into a mob of charging enemy soldiers, while bullets zipped past his head and kicked up dirt all around him.

  Corporal Perez jumped into the position next to him, reaching over to one of the fallen Marines and grabbing several of the one-hundred-round belts of ammo off him. Then he linked one of the new belts with the one Captain Long was chewing through. Searching around the position for more ammo, Perez found three more in the ruck of the assistant machine gunner, who was lying dead next to him. He also took a couple of the hand grenades from his dead comrade and began throwing them at the charging enemy.

  Crump, crump, crump.

  The explosions sounded small in comparison to the mortars and artillery fire being rained down, but they were doing the job of killing or wounding the enemy, who was steadily bearing down on them.

  “Shift fire to our right, Sir!” shouted Corporal Perez.

  A fresh wave of enemy soldiers had surged toward their position. At some point in the battle, his right flank had fallen apart as the Marines were simply overrun by the sheer numbers being thrown at them. Captain Long saw the wave of humanity, shouting and screaming at the top of their lungs with bayonets attached to the ends of their rifles…charging right for them. Leveling the M240G at the charging horde, he pulled the trigger, letting a string of machine-gun fire rip through their lines. He moved his aim back and forth across the enemy, and watched as many of them clutched at their chest, arms, and legs, falling to the ground before they were trampled upon by the following soldiers.

  Turning his head slightly to Corporal Perez, he shouted, “Fall back!”

  Perez, for his part, threw several grenades at the enemy and then bounded back five or so meters before turning around to lay down suppressive fire so Long could move. Sensing that this was his moment, Long stopped firing as he ran in a low crouch past Perez to another tree, where he once again opened fire on their attackers, all the while shouting for the others to fall back as well.

  It took a few minutes, but more and more of his Marines heard his call to fall back and collapsed back on a rally point they had identified the day before. The enemy reached their previous positions and halted their advance for the moment, committing a fatal error in their attack by giving the Marines a moment of reprieve. Within seconds, a lot of the gunfire happening around them slackened as more of the Marines disengaged and the PLA stopped pressing their attack.

  When they reached the rally point, Captain Long called back to battalion to let them know what had just happened. While he was on the radio, more of his Marines continued to filter into their positions, some carrying wounded comrades, others wounded themselves but still able to fight.

  “Get a perimeter set up now!” Long shouted.

  Captain Long took a moment to talk with higher headquarters, requesting a quick reaction force be sent to their position.

  “Where’s the first sergeant?” asked one of the other sergeants as he took the M240G back from him.

  Pausing for a second, the captain looked solemnly at the sergeant. “He’s dead,” he answered. Then, without giving him too much time to process that statement, he asked, “Where’s Lieutenant Simmons? I need to speak with him.”

  “I’m coming, Sir,” shouted his executive officer. He was helping to lay a wounded Marine down near the center of their position. The company’s corpsman was busy trying to stabilize and treat the numerous wounded men being brought in.

  Once his XO made it over to his position, Captain Long asked, “How many men have we lost? Did all the platoons fall back to our rally point?” While he spoke, he was performing a quick head count of the wounded.

  “I don’t know what happened to Second Platoon. They were on the right flank. Last I saw, several artillery rounds landed in their positions and then the PLA had swarmed all over them. I was with Third Platoon. I’ve got them situated over there,” Lieutenant Simmons explained as he pointed to an area roughly twenty meters away.

  Lieutenant Scott walked up to them. “I’ve got Fourth Platoon situated on our right flank, ready to repel any further attacks,” he said. “I have to admit, Captain, I thought you were a dead man. The Chinese hardly hit our platoon, so I brought a squad over to your position. When I saw you charge forward and grab that machine gun like that I figured you’d last maybe a minute. My guys did their best to cover your retreat—I’m glad you made it.”

  “The Chinese didn’t hit your platoon’s section of the line at all?” asked Long.

  “No, Sir,” Lieutenant Scott answered. “The attack appeared to be concentrated on Second and First Platoon positions. Like I said, my platoon was hardly hit. We only sustained one wounded. My guys are ginned up and ready for some payback. Do you want me to head back to where Second Platoon was and see if we can find any survivors?” he asked.

  Captain Long thought about that for a moment before responding. Major Noble had told him that he was sending two platoons from Delta Company to help him. Part of him knew that he should probably wait and make sure they held their current position, but Long also didn’t want to leave a platoon of his men alone. He could still hear the ratatat of several machine guns, M4s and AK-47s, in the distance.

  “Lieutenant Simmons, how many able-bodied men do we have ready to fight right now?” Captain Long asked.

  Simmons had just finished conferring with a few sergeants and a couple of other gunnery sergeants, scribbling something on his notepad. He looked up. “We’ve got a lot of wounded and missing-in-action guys from Second and Third Platoon right now. We have maybe two full squads from First Platoon and three full squads from Third Platoon that are able to fight. Of the five squads, probably only three of them could assist Fourth Platoon.”


  Letting out a sigh, Captain Long turned to look at Lieutenant Scott. “Take your platoon along with a squad from Third Platoon with you,” he ordered. “I’ve got to keep the others here to protect the rally point until our reinforcements from Delta arrive. When they get here, I’ll send them your way.”

  With that settled, Lieutenant Scott called out to two of the gunnery sergeants, “Grab your men and head with me! We’re going to go find and fetch Second Platoon.”

  *******

  When Lieutenant Scott’s platoon got close to where Second Platoon should have been, they saw something even worse than what he’d expected. Not only was the area littered with the torn and mangled bodies of their fellow Marines, but there had to be close to three companies’ worth of enemy soldiers filtering into the area, getting ready to move toward them.

  Scott’s platoon sergeant whispered to him. “Sir, it doesn’t look like anyone survived. We should report what we’re seeing and head back to the rally point. That force is too large for us to take on, and the company will be hard-pressed to beat back that large of an attack without us.”

  Lieutenant Scott knew that was the right decision, and he did have to consider the well-being of his own men, but seeing his fellow Marines lying there, dead, alone, and surrounded by the enemy like that, really burned him up. He shook his head and let out a sigh.

  “Relay the message back to the CO and tell him we’re heading back.” With that settled, the platoon silently crept back to the rally point, readying themselves mentally for what they knew would be another withering attack when it came.