“It’s started,” the lieutenant said over the link.
Jake looked up, but of course he couldn’t see anything through the oily rich smoke. The minutes lengthened, stretched and— “Don’t have a visual of this,” the lieutenant said. “But we’re hearing that Chinese particle beam stations got the—wait. We may have one THOR on its way.”
Jake looked up just in time to see an American-made meteor smash through the smoke cloud. The twenty-pound crowbar left a luminous trail. Then the dense uranium rod crashed through the roof of the Daoyizhen Bulldozer Works. The rod struck the ground, and the white-hot uranium vapor it had left behind ignited. That produced a terrific incendiary blast. Jake watched in amazement. The entire three-block building shook as if an earthquake had struck. The blast billowed upward, a column of fire shooting out of the Bulldozer Works. A thunderous boom washed over Jake, Chet and Grant, along with a wave of heat.
Seconds later, Jake heard the lieutenant shouting at him through the link. Glancing at the assembly area, Jake saw the body-armored Marines climb to their feet. He saw one Marine with a US flag sewn onto the back of his pack. The assault troopers began their race to the Bulldozer Factory.
Jake slapped Chet on the shoulder. His friend glanced at Jake, who pointed. In a second, Chet gripped the butterfly controls of his heavy machine gun. He shouted at Grant, but the man probably couldn’t hear him yet because of the noise of the THOR blast.
Jake grabbed Grant by the collar and yanked him out of the way. At the same time, Chet aimed his love and pressed his thumbs down. The bullets reached upslope and hammered the spot where Grant had seen the rifle glint earlier.
All along the line in the rubble, other heavy machine guns gave the assault troopers covering fire.
The THOR must have killed enemy soldiers, but it hadn’t broken the rest. Chinese assault rifles, grenade launchers and even some mortars opened up. Marines went down, hit. Others kept going.
Grant fed Chet’s machine gun as the former rabbit hunter worked his section of the Bulldozer Works. Puffs of concrete showed where the rounds stuck. Then some American artillery tubes got into the game, firing in direct line of sight. Loud crashes sounded. Shells screamed overhead. Booms told a wonderful story as they wrecked more of the mighty building, killed some of the defenders and allowed half the Marines to make it to the base of the Bulldozer Works.
“Get your people ready,” the lieutenant told Jake. “It’s our turn next.”
“Roger that,” Jake said. He crawled along the line. At one point, he watched the last Marine disappear through a huge hole in the wall into the factory.
Gathering his squad, Jake waited for the lieutenant to give the word. It came too soon, and Jake found himself making the long dash across the open terrain. Enemy bullets scored near his feet. A man yelled.
“Grant’s hit!” Chet shouted.
Jake wanted to keep running toward the factory. The need to escape consumed him. He could hear the Chinese machine gun firing and see spouts of dirt shoot up near him. But he was the sergeant, and Grant was his friend. With an effort of will, he stopped, turned around and took the steps needed to reach the wounded soldier lying on the ground.
“Ain’t no big deal,” Grant told him. Then three more 12.7mm bullets stitched across him. One drilled a hole in his helmet, making brains squish out. Two others tore into Grant’s chest. He twitched several times. Then he died as the lights went out behind his eyes.
Jake didn’t remember much after that. It was a lot like a drunken blackout. Only this was combat madness. Scenes flashed before his eyes. He saw jagged ground as he sprinted. Air hurt going down his throat. He felt something hot in his side and heard a man cry, “Medic!” He touched his side, flinched because it hurt, and looked at the blood on his fingers.
“Ain’t no big deal,” he said. Jake remembered saying that; he sure did. It was something Grant might have said, did say. This was so screwed up.
Scenes, right—there was jagged ground, a hole in the Daoyizhen Bulldozer Works and him jumping through. Twilight zone time: or maybe it was just the odd lighting. Smoke drifted. Sunlight slashed through gaps, only there was no sun, but a strange, fumy unreality. Jake heard laughter, crazy sounds of someone going insane. At his side, an assault rifle kicked. Oh right, he fired the weapon. He went through rooms, through chambers, putting down enemy soldiers so they could never brain-pop a guy like Grant again.
“Slow down, Sergeant! We can’t keep up with you.”
Brave Chinese showed their faces as they tried counterattacks. Jake shot them. He hurled grenades. He felt a hot stain on his neck. No blood this time, felt like a rug burn—a bullet burn.
You’ve been burned, baby.
He heard more crazy laughter, and he felt hands on him, pulling him back. Then a terrific explosion caused wood and bits of concrete to rain on them. Jake looked up, and he saw a fist-sized chunk of something. It fell straight down, and it hit his helmet, dashing him onto the floor, ending his strange dream scenes.
Jake groaned, and his head throbbed.
“Is he dead?” a man asked. It sounded like the lieutenant.
Chet looked down at him. For some reason, his best friend looked as if he was far away up a tunnel.
“Jake?” Chet asked.
“Yeah?”
“You feeling okay?”
“My head hurts.”
“Let me take off your helmet, okay?”
Jake frowned, and that made his headache worse. Chet almost sounded scared. “Sure,” Jake said. “Remove my helmet.”
“He’s back, Lieutenant.”
What did that mean?
Jake winced as Chet took off the helmet. “Is it bad?” he asked
“You could only hope,” Chet told him. “No. There’s a bump, but that’s it. Maybe it will knock some sense into you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Crazy man, you’ve been charging through the Bulldozer Works, trying to win the war all by your lonesome. You went berserk after Grant died.”
“Oh,” Jake said. After a few seconds, “They killed Grant.”
“I just said that. Well…never mind. It’s a madhouse in here.”
“I thought you liked the war,” Jake said.
“No… I think I’m getting a little tired of this.”
Jake tried to sit up, and everything went spinning. He groaned, and he threw up a bit in his mouth. It tasted awful.
“You might have a concussion. So you want to take it a little easy, okay?”
“Did we win?” Jake asked.
“How do you tell?”
“Did we take this place?”
“We’re still in the middle of the battle. But I’ll tell you one thing.”
“Yeah?” Jake asked.
“We got ourselves a piece of it anyway. And it sure was something seeing that THOR hit.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. Then he closed his eyes, deciding he deserved a break from the war, maybe a real long break.
From Military History: Past to Present, by Vance Holbrook:
The Invasion of Manchuria, 2042
2042, August 3-10. Chinese Counterattack in Inner Mongolia. Halting the Americans and Russians before Shenyang, Chinese High Command scraped the last reserves into one strike force. Instead of sending them against the entrenched enemy in Shenyang’s suburbs, Marshal Kiang launched an infantry-heavy offensive against the German and Russian forces waiting at the farther edge of the Khingan Mountains in the 9th Army Group. Russian High Command was divided on the army group’s next objective: Beijing to the south or a dash through the mountains to add their considerable weight to a new Shenyang offensive.
Chinese wave assaults backed by ballistic and cruise missiles proved deadly but exceedingly costly to execute. The wave assaults took the Germans and Russians by surprise. Wisely, the mobile forces retreated as they took a bloody toll of the enemy infantry. In places, Chinese casualties were ten to one of the Russians and German machines. Yet the
y forced the 9th Army Group to backtrack, sometimes as much as fifty miles. By August 10, the Sino offensive came to a grinding halt. The Chinese armies were mere shells from their beginning strengths, but for the first time in the campaign, they had forced the Russians and Germans to retreat, causing the 9th Army Group to expend a costly amount of fuel, ammunition and materiel.
COMMENT. Much like the Tet Offensive in Vietnam in 1967, the Inner Mongolian Attack was a tactical failure. The Chinese gained sand and wasteland in exchange for grim losses. Once restocked with supplies, the Russian 9th Army Group could easily advance at leisure, pushing aside the bled-white Chinese divisions. But, like the Tet Offensive did to American leadership in ’67 and beyond, the Inner Mongolian Attack shook Premier Konev’s confidence. Russia had sustained more losses than he had anticipated to this point. It began to dawn on Konev that Russia would not be able to pay the human costs of extended occupation of conquered Manchuria for more than one or two years. Unknown to American leadership, Konev sent a secret envoy to Beijing to sound out Chairman Hong on a peace treaty that recognized the Russian conquest of Siberia and Kazakhstan in return for an exit from Inner and Outer Mongolia and Manchuria.
V CORPS HQ, LIAONING PROVINCE
“What’s this about, sir?” Stan asked.
He’d driven from his division stationed west of Daoyizhen, a suburb of Shenyang. The tanks held open ground. High Command was still wise enough to keep his Jeffersons out of giant urban areas. Stan was here because General Taylor had ordered him to drive the ten mile from 10th Division to V Corps HQ.
Stan sat alone inside a comm-shack with the latest high-tech equipment. He could hear the air-conditioner switch on and begin to buzz with effort. General Taylor of V Corps had personally explained it to him. General McGraw had flown to Alaska, and a special comm-drone had been sent aloft between Asia and North America somewhere over the Bering Sea. The signal from this comm-shack bounced off the drone to General McGraw in his Alaskan site.
Stan viewed McGraw on the computer screen. Tom had bags under his eyes and his features showed strain. McGraw didn’t smile, although he attempted it a time or two.
“Stan, old son,” McGraw said. “I’ve got to talk to someone who will tell me the truth.”
“I see,” Stan said, on guard now. Caesars seldom wanted the truth from anyone. Still, it appeared as if McGraw had taken elaborate procedures to speak with him alone. What did that portend?
“Can I trust you to tell it to me straight, General?” McGraw asked.
“Sir, I’m an American soldier. I don’t believe in lying to my superior officers.”
“Nice evasion,” McGraw said. “But I’ll take you at your word. Stan, General, what is your estimation on the Chinese soldier.”
“I’m not sure I understand the question, sir.”
“By what you’ve seen in Manchuria, do you think the Chinese are scraping the bottom of the manpower barrel?”
Stan pursed his lips. “They’re far from that. But I will say that although the soldiers facing us in Shenyang are brave and determined, they’re not like the Chinese we faced in the early days in North America. Those soldiers knew their trade, and they were willing to fight. The Chinese here…they’re still learning their trade.”
“But they’re brave, you say?”
“At the beginning of this campaign in Heilongjiang Province, a lot of them ran away after their unit sustained…hmmm…ten percent losses. They were on the short end of the stick and they knew it. The ones now aren’t giving up. I’m sure you’re studying the reports. Far fewer Chinese formations that are surrounded surrender until they’re starving to death or have taken fifty, sometimes sixty percent casualties.”
“Can we take Shenyang?” McGraw asked.
“We might with the men at hand, but it would cost us, and it would likely be the last major offensive we could make for some time.”
“You’re speaking about our boys?”
“The US 3rd Army Group,” Stan said. “If you want my opinion, sir…?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“The Russians are running out of desire, while the average Chinese has hardened his heart. There are a lot of enemy riflemen, Militia and guerillas. Many of those hardly know the front end of a gun from the back, but they have desire. Ever since Changchun I’ve begun to wonder—”
“Wonder what?”
“What we’re really doing in Manchuria,” Stan said. “The 3rd Army Group isn’t going to do much more than secure Manchuria. Holding onto it might be a lot harder than taking it with Russian help.”
“You realize major reinforcements are already in the pipeline.”
“We’ve gotten a few and I’ve heard many more are on the way, but I don’t know if you’re sending enough. Now if we had some Behemoths…”
“They’re guarding Texas and New Mexico.”
Stan nodded. He understood that.
“The Chinese appear to have bounced back then,” McGraw said.
“Historically, an invaded people usually do.”
McGraw opened his mouth, and he hesitated. Finally, he nodded. “Thank you, Stan, old son. You’ve told me what I needed to hear.”
I don’t believe that, Stan thought. You were going to ask me something else, but you just lost your nerve. What’s really going on, Tom? I wish I could ask you.
“How’s my son?” Stan asked.
“I thought you’d ask about him. Jake went to the hospital and he’s fit for duty. I believe he’s already back in his platoon.”
“You couldn’t send him home?” Stan asked.
“If I did, Homeland Security might take him again. I don’t think you want that.”
The information put heat in Stan’s heart. “So we’ve become America’s new legions, eh?”
“What’s that mean?”
“We’re only good so long as we fight overseas?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” McGraw said.
It hit Stan then. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t believe he gave anything away on his face or in his eyes. Jake was here, and so was he. He knew Taylor and the other generals of V Corps felt similarly as he did. Stan used to think that was a coincidence. Now he wasn’t so sure. But that would mean…
“It’s good to talk with you again, Stan. I wish I were over there with you. I envy you the ability to hurt our enemy where it counts, in his own backyard.”
“We’d love to have you here, sir.”
McGraw gave him a careful look before smiling. “I’m on a fact-finding mission, trying to take the pulse of our Expeditionary Force. Once all the reinforcements arrive, we have some surprises in store for the Chinese. I think we have them on the ropes, Stan. I think it will take a few more hammer blows to make them cry uncle.”
“Is that why they attacked in Inner Mongolia as they did? They don’t care about losses.”
“Who knows Chairman Hong’s mind? It’s a mystery.”
“If we could hit with all our THORs, we would have a much better chance of making them cry uncle. I think there’s your answer.”
“That will be all, General,” McGraw said. “Thank you for your time, and good luck.”
“To you too, sir,” Stan said. Afterward, McGraw cut the connection, leaving a thoughtful Higgins to ponder these new, inner revelations.
BEIJING, CHINA
Shun Li took her place at the conference table. It was a full meeting of the Ruling Committee. Marshal Kiang sat down beside the new Minister of the Navy. She finally understood that Hong and the Army would always be at odds with each other. Both Hong and the Police must leash the Army, or the Army leaders would rule over them.
Yes, that has been the trick all these years, the politicians and the police holding the twin leashes that kept the crocodile of the Army from devouring each of them in turn.
For all his supposed madness and brutality, Hong was the most cunning among them. Perhaps as bad, he could change course with abrupt suddenness, catching others by surprise.
>
Is that the great trick—to fake one way and then go another? He also used another tactic. The Chairman slays his most powerful enemies, killing each of us one by one. If I am to survive, must I kill Hong first in self-defense?
Such a strike was worth careful consideration. The danger of trying it and failing, however, would be catastrophic to her life.
“I am here to report wonderful news,” Hong told them. “Unfortunately, none of us can tell anyone else about the news, at least for a time. We must hold this secret until we can unleash it at a pivotal moment.” The Chairman cleared his throat. “Some of you may know that I spoke with a personal envoy of Premier Konev.” He nodded to Shun Li.
She smiled in an approximation of joy, but her cheek muscles felt frozen and stiff. She had helped spirit the envoy from the airport to Hong and back again to the airport.
“The Russians are concerned,” Hong told Marshal Kiang. “Your latest offensive in Inner Mongolia convinced them of the futility of their invasion—that we will fight for a thousand years to keep our freedom.”
The Army Minister shook his head. “I cannot take credit for the…the so-called offensive. It was your own creation, Leader.”
“Do you still not approve of it?” Hong asked.
“As a military man, the Chinese losses sicken me,” Kiang said. “Although I am overjoyed it shook the Russian leader.”
Shun Li wondered how much longer the marshal would get to speak his mind like that.
“It was ill-conceived as an operational procedure,” Kiang added. “However, it appears that you are one hundred percent correct from a political consideration. I marvel at your insights concerning foreign leaders.”
Shun Li didn’t believe it was insight that had guided Hong. No. Once again, the Chairman had gotten lucky. Why such a callous killer should receive such luck, she could not say. It made her doubt the entire idea of karma.
Invasion: China (Invasion America) (Volume 5) Page 40