Dark Wing

by Richard Herman

  “We must go now,” she said.

  He heard an urgency in her words that surprised him. Before, she had always been sad when she spoke of her dreams. Then the “we” cut through the sleepy haze he had been drifting in. “You’re coming with me?” He saw fear in her eyes when she nodded. He rolled out of bed and hurriedly dressed. “What happened in your dream.”

  “We were in Wuzhou,” she said, “like the first time.” He recalled when the PLA had forced them to dig graves and bury bodies. “But you were wearing a uniform and fighting. There were many people killed and many fires. May May was running with the baby and I was following her.” She took a deep breath. “It was this morning and I could see the sun rising.”

  Kamigami didn’t hesitate. He made three quick phone calls. The first was to alert his helicopter crew for an immediate takeoff. The second was to his First Regiment’s command bunker in Wuzhou. “Order a full alert,” he told the duty officer. “Expect an attack before dawn.” The third was to the New China Guard. “Thank God I don’t have to go through Von Drexler,” he muttered. He told them of the attack warning and asked if they would relay the information to Von Drexler’s new command post and have the A-10s placed on alert.

  Jin Chu was ready and they ran for the helicopter.

  The First Regiment’s command bunker on the western side of Wuzhou was humming with activity when Kamigami arrived. Most of the American advisors were huddled in a small group in the rear with nothing to do and his staff kept giving him confident looks. A good sign. The big situation board was current and all of his sixteen companies were moving into their forward positions. He checked the master clock-0410. Two and one half hours into the alert. A better sign.

  He looked around for Jin Chu. She was gone. She’s probably with May May and the baby, he decided. He wandered through the bunker. Everything was in order. Now he had to wait. A lieutenant updated the situation board. Horse Company was in position.

  One of the original nine, he thought. A mental image of the young captain who commanded the company flashed in front of him. That’s where I should be, he told himself. Not in here. He fought down the old urge to go to the front. Now three more companies reported in position. Again, all were part of the original nine.

  Trimler caught his attention. “I’m in contact with the MAAG’s new, command post in Nanning,” he said. “They don’t take this seriously and won’t alert Von Drexler.” He frowned. “I backdoored them and called Guilin on the secure line. Pontowski is loading his birds out but he takes his tasking from Von Drexler, not us. At least he’ll be ready to launch—if he ever gets the order.”

  “We need to cut Von Drexler out as the middleman,” Kamigami said, “and talk directly to Pontowski.”

  The American colonel shook his head. “Nothing has changed. The A- l Os are still Von Drexler’s trump card for controlling Zou.”

  “Politics will kill us,” Kamigami muttered.

  A major caught his attention. “Miss Li is here,” he said in Cantonese. Kamigami followed the major to the bunker entrance. Jin Chu was standing there with May May and the baby.

  “May we stay here?” she asked. The major beamed when Kamigami nodded his agreement. Jin Chu’s presence was a morale boost for the Chinese.

  The shrill whine of an incoming artillery shell passed overhead. But there was no explosion. Kamigami listened as four more shells ranged overhead. Still no explosions. He ran onto the main floor of the bunker and shouted, “Gas!”

  The alarm went out, the bunker was sealed, and reports flooded in. Kang was laying a mustard gas artillery barrage over Wuzhou. Trimler appeared beside him, his face granite hard. “The First Regiment is okay,” he said. “They’re trained and equipped to handle chemical warfare. But this—” he paused to gain control of the deep anger that was engulfing him, “is criminal. They’re hitting innocent civilians. They have no protection at all.”

  Kamigami said nothing and stared at the situation board as more reports came in. The gas barrage had stopped and conventional artillery was pounding the city. All four battalions reported they were in position and two were in contact, the military euphemism for locked in combat, with numerous tanks. “Kang tried to catch us by surprise, like at Nanning,” Kamigami said. “This time we were ready for them.”

  “A sitrep might get some attention,” Trimler said, thinking who would react to a situation report that detailed a major attack in progress. He drafted the short message and handed it to Kamigami.

  SITREP

  AS OF 31 AUG: 0450L (30 AUG: 2050z)

  PLA INITIATED MAJOR ATTACK ON WUZHOU AT 0430 LOCAL TIME WITH MUSTARD GAS ARTILLERY BARRAGE FOLLOWED BY CONVENTIONAL ARTILLERY. MANY CIVILIAN CASUALTIES, TANKS ADVANCING FROM EAST IN FORCE. SITUATION FLUID, REQUEST CLOSE AIR SUPPORT.

  A wicked look crossed Trimler’s face. “Let nie send it. Since I fall under the MAAG, I can send an information copy to the MAAG’s higher headquarters—which happens to be the National Military Command Center in Washington, D.C. Let VD ignore this one.”

  The artillery barrage stopped as jets roared overhead. Horse Company radioed that tanks were advancing from the east. “For what we are about to receive,” Trimler muttered, “may the Lord make us truly thankful.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Saturday, August 31

  Nanning, China

  Hazelton was in the communications section of Von Drexler’s new headquarters compound dispatching Mazie’s daily report to Bill Carroll when the first sitrep detailing the fighting at Wuzhou came in. He listened for a few moments and then called Mazie. “You best get right over here,” he told her. “I’ll meet you in the command post.”

  He wandered into the deserted command post, impressed with the new facility. The first officers to arrive were angry because their weekend plans had been disturbed. “What’s all this for?” he asked an American Army colonel while he waved at the large room.

  “Beats the hell out of me,” the colonel answered. “Von Drexler started building this place the day he arrived. It’s patterned after the NMCC in the Pentagon. It doesn’t make sense. All this to command thirty-two A-10s. Hell, you could run a major war from here.”

  Von Drexler walked onto the command balcony dressed in his MacArthur uniform. He picked up the microphone. “Gentlemen,” he began, “this appears to be a probing action on the part of the PLA. We’ve seen it before. Don’t overreact and let’s wait for the dust to settle.”

  A small figure dressed in a dark warmup suit appeared at Von Drexler’s side. At first, Hazelton didn’t recognize Mazie. He watched, fascinated, as the two talked. She turned and walked away, disappearing from his view. What was that all about? Hazelton thought. A few moments later she appeared on the main floor. The graceful and lissome way she walked captivated him. He was seeing a different person, and he would never think of her as the Frump again.

  “The general,” she said, “refuses to take this seriously. He says Kang shot his bolt when he hit Nanning and this is just to keep us off balance. He won’t even bring the AVG onto alert status.” She glanced at the big situation boards on the front wall. No change from normal readiness. “Went, can you go to Wuzhou and see for yourself what is going on? Call or get back to me as soon as you can. I’ll be right here.”

  “Ray Byers has a helicopter he flies around in,” Hazelton said. “I’ll see if I can borrow it.”

  “Hurry,” Mazie urged. He ran from the room.

  Saturday, August 31

  Guilin, China

  Pontowski drove down the flight line in his pickup with the chief of Maintenance. A Warthog stood ready and loaded in each revetment. “Every jet ready to go,” he said. “Maintenance did good.” It was a classic understatement.

  The radio in his pickup squawked. “Colonel,” the controller in the operations center said, “the tower reports an inbound chopper from Wuzhou.”

  “Rog. I’ll meet it.” Pontowski gunned the engine and headed for the helipad. The helicopter had barely touched do
wn when Trimler jumped out.

  “The balloon has gone up big time,” the American colonel shouted as he climbed into the truck. “We’re getting stomped bad and Von Drexler has his fucking thumb up his fucking ass.” He looked at Pontowski. “He claims this is a probing action and says using the AVG is an overreaction. Overreaction my ass!” He made a visible effort to control his breathing. “We need close air support. Now.”

  It must be bad if Kamigami had to send Trimler to plead for support, Pontowski reasoned. He made his decision. “You’ve got it.” He sped toward the operations center. “We haven’t a clue what’s going on. Can you brief the pilots?”

  “Can do. But I haven’t much time. I’ve got to fly to Nanning and try to change Von Drexler’s mind.”

  Waters stood in the rear of the operations center as Trimler outlined the situation at Wuzhou. She opened her war diary to make an entry. She paused, thinking about Von Drexler. Stick to the facts, she reasoned. VD may use this against us. She wrote:

  31 Aug: 1035

  Colonel Robert Trimler arrived by helicopter from First Regiment. Situation on ground at Wuzhou desperate. Orders from AVG confused. P trying to clarify.

  She closed the diary as Pontowski joined her.

  “Get with the Dogs, Ripper,” he told her. “Get ready for an evacuation. We’re in deep trouble here.”

  Saturday, August 31

  Wuzhou, China

  Ray Byers was screaming at the top of his voice so Hazelton could hear him over the noise of the helicopter. “You’re on your own, Good Buddy. I’ve got to book for Guilin.”

  Hazelton nodded, finally understanding, and jumped out of the helicopter, carrying the new video camcorder he had purchased in Japan. He planned on documenting the conditions at Wuzhou to convince Von Drexler but immediately regretted the move when the old Huey lifted off. He was alone in the middle of a war zone. He ran over to a young soldier and shouted, “Kamigami!” The soldier pointed at a big pile of sandbags—the command bunker for the First Regiment. Hazelton panned the area with his camcorder before he ran for cover.

  He found the purposeful activity inside Kamigami’s bunker a reassuring contrast to what he had seen in Von Drexler’s command post. A major who spoke excellent English was assigned to escort him. “I will introduce you to General Kamigami as soon as he’s free,” Major Sun said. “Do you speak Cantonese?” Hazelton shook his head no. “I see,” Sun replied. “I think the general is free now.” He led Hazelton over to Kamigami.

  Hazelton found it hard to believe the huge man standing in front of him was Mazie’s father. He introduced himself, feeling like a clumsy teenager meeting his girlfriend’s father for the first time. He managed to stammer the reason he was there.

  Kamigami stuck out a huge hand. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Hazelton. We can give you what you want but it would be better if you saw for yourself and drew your own conclusions. Are you up for a quick tour?” Hazelton felt himself drawn to Kamigami, and he nodded. “Good,” Kamigami continued. “Major Sun here will be your interpreter and guide.” He issued orders in Cantonese and Hazelton was amazed at the authority his soft voice carried. He was beginning to understand Mazie better. “We’ll get you a helmet, gas mask, and flak vest,” Kamigami said. “I want you back here in two hours and we’ll fly you to Nanning in my helicopter.”

  Major Sun led Hazelton out of the bunker and found him the necessary equipment. Within minutes, they were on a motor scooter, darting through the town. Twice, Sun stopped while Hazelton recorded the hundreds of civilian casualties from the gas attack. Hazelton shouted through his mask, describing what he saw as he filmed. On the eastern side of town, Hazelton filmed the carnage from a direct hit by an artillery shell. It was the first time he had seen dismembered bodies. Sun waited patiently while Hazelton ripped off his mask and vomited.

  “Do we have to keep wearing these?” Hazelton gasped. Sun shrugged and removed his own mask. “Can you get me closer to the fighting?” Sun nodded and they sped out of town. Ahead of them, to the east, the thunder of artillery grew stronger.

  “This is Dragon Company,” Sun shouted, pointing at a small village. “Dragon Company is one of the nine.” The “nine” meant nothing to Hazelton and he made a mental note to ask about it later.

  Hazelton was talking to the company commander when tanks were reported advancing on the village. The men ran for cover and Hazelton found himself in a ditch next to Sun. “You must look,” Sun told him, pointing to the edge of the ditch.

  Hazelton lifted his head and froze. Nothing had prepared him for the sight of a charging thirty-six-ton tank coming directly at him at over thirty miles an hour. Sun snatched the camcorder out of Hazelton’s hand to record the action. Hazelton felt his knees go weak as the turret traversed toward them. Behind the tank he could see three more tanks and was vaguely aware of a missile being fired from his far right. The camcorder recorded the TOW missile as it destroyed the tank.

  “There,” Sun said, pointing to the sky. “Warhogs. We call them the Silent Gun.” He recorded the two Warthogs as they rolled in on the advancing tanks. Hazelton had never seen a more beautiful sight. Within minutes, the Warthogs had destroyed the tanks.

  “We must go,” Sun said, pulling Hazelton back to the village.

  “My God,” Hazelton gasped. “I didn’t know tanks were so huge.”

  “Those were Type 59 main battle tanks,” Sun explained. “They are an improved version of the Soviet T-54 tank and have a one-hundred-millimeter gun.” He smiled. “We are very good at killing them with your TOW missiles. But the Silent Gun is better.” He kick-started the motor scooter to life as Hazelton relieved himself on the ground.

  Trucks and vehicles were streaming out of Wuzhou when they reached the command bunker. It was deserted and Hazelton felt the knife-edge of fear scrape his skin. Sun spoke to a lieutenant and then translated for Hazelton. “We are too late,” he said. “The headquarters has moved. Many tanks have broken through and we must go to Teng Xian.” Hazelton’s fear turned to panic. He was caught in the middle of a retreat, a rout.

  * * *

  Two days later, Hazelton and Sun walked into Teng Xian, the small town thirty-five miles to the west where Kamigami had regrouped the First Regiment. Kamigami found Hazelton collapsed against a wall outside his bunker, sucking at a canteen. Hazelton’s clothes were ripped and dirty, his hair was matted to his scalp, and he was shaking with fatigue. His camcorder was lying in his lap, firmly clutched in one hand. Hazelton pulled himself up, determined to make a good impression, and would have saluted had he known how. “I have seen enough, sir,” he said. Why am I acting like this, he thought.

  Kamigami’s face was inscrutable. “Major Sun says you destroyed a tank with a Molotov cocktail.”

  “It’s not like I had a choice,” Hazelton replied.

  Kamigami stifled a grin. It was the right answer. “My helicopter will take you to Nanning.” Then he unbent a little. “Please give this to Mazie.” He handed Hazelton a letter.

  Wentworth Hazelton pulled himself up straight. “I hope we meet again, sir. I am very fond of your daughter.” He felt like a fool for saying that. Suddenly, he didn’t care. It was the truth.

  Monday, September 2

  Nanning, China

  Mazie gasped when she saw Hazelton climb out of the helicopter. She ran across the open area outside the headquarters compound to the helipad. “I was so worried,” she said.

  “Cheated death again,” he grinned. Mazie cocked her head to one side and took him in as he recounted what he had seen. He was a mess and needed a bath. Two days before, he would have never said “cheated death again” and he no longer was speaking in the pompous tones of a good bureaucrat. He had changed and she liked what she saw. “Your father asked me to give you this,” he said, handing her the letter.

  She stopped and opened the envelope. Her face glowed as she read the short note. She carefully folded it and put it into a pocket. “We’re still a family,” was all she said. She wo
uld never show him the note.

  “I’m worried about Von Drexler,” she continued. “He has three different teams drawing up separate plans for a counteroffensive and he keeps saying Zou must be overthrown and replaced by a competent general. He’s turned this place into a madhouse.”

  “Does he know Pontowski is flying close air support for the First Regiment?”

  “Yes, but he insists on personally approving each mission. I think you should talk to Colonel Trimler,” she told him. “He’s still here. Von Drexler won’t let him leave.”

  “We need a VCR,” Hazelton said, tapping his camcorder. “But what I’ve got isn’t Loony Tunes.”

  Trimler watched the unedited tapes without comment. He replayed the segment that showed Hazelton charging a T-59 tank from the rear. He was holding a gasoline-filled bottle with a flaming rag stuck in the neck. He hurled the glass bottle onto the engine’s air intake and flames engulfed the rear of the tank. “They never saw me,” was all Hazelton said in the way of explanation.

  Trimler grunted something about “titanium testicles” and ran the rest of the tapes. Mazie rewound the tapes while Trimler stared at his hands, thinking. “You’ve documented an absolutely brilliant tactical withdrawal,” he finally said. His voice was hard and bitter. “And I’m missing it.” He made a decision. “Mazie, Von Drexler is cracking up under the strain. I’m no shrink, but I think his ego is totally out of control. He’s acting like his rank gives him absolute power. He’s got to control people and events or it’s a personal attack on himself. He’s lost contact with reality.

  “He’s got to be relieved—quick. We’ll have to double-bang him to make that happen. I’ll send a message to my bosses in the Pentagon recommending Von Drexler be relieved while you take these tapes to Carroll. Tell him what you’ve seen here the last few days.”

  “Went,” Mazie said, “I think you should stay here.” Hazelton nodded, agreeing with her. “Colonel,” she asked, “where can I find you?”