by Peter Nealen
“Come on, Simons. Perimeter’s up that way.” Hank reached down to help the other man as his boot started to slip out from under him. His route selection clearly hadn’t been the greatest, and he sounded smoked. “Make sure you remember the challenge and pass this time.”
“Roger that, Hank,” Simons gasped. Putting his head down, he kept moving up the slope. The lack of long-range PT on ship was clearly telling.
Before he passed, Hank grabbed him again. “Did you see anyone behind you?”
“No. Sorry.” Simons was dripping as he shook his head.
“Okay. Get up there.” He turned back down as three more IR lasers flashed through the trees. All four Triarii got low and still.
That was when Hank saw that they weren’t coming up the hill, not really. All three lasers were pointing roughly north, northwest, bouncing and flickering as the Chinese marines moved, thrashing through the brush and making more noise than the Triarii. And the closest one was clearly higher up the hill than the others.
They’re sweeping toward our beach landing site, on-line. They don’t know we’re up here yet.
That also told him that the Triarii drone attack had disrupted the Chinese’ own ISR—Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance—enough that they didn’t know exactly where the Triarii were. Which gave them an additional advantage.
With a series of quick hand and arm signals, he got his little fire team heading back up to the perimeter. He now had a decision to make.
The mission, as planned, was screwed. If they’d hoped to slam the door on the Chinese maritime militia, the Chinese’ willingness to go to guns right in the Philippine back yard, coupled with the Kunming’s intervention, had made that impossible. But they still might put the hurt on the PLAN marines, if they hit them right now, while they still weren’t sure where their adversaries were.
On the other hand, that wouldn’t necessarily accomplish the mission, and would risk further casualties. Was this the time to just cut losses, wait it out, and hit them again from a different angle, when they didn’t already have the Triarii on the back foot?
This was guerrilla warfare, after all.
There was another factor to consider, though, and that was how their next move would affect their rapport with the Filipinos. Just falling back into the jungle and hiding when things went sideways might be the smart thing to do, but how would Habu react to it? Perhaps more importantly—from a strategic viewpoint, if not a personal one—how would Ayala react? What good were these American “contractors” if they got stampeded by the maritime militia the first time they made contact?
The truth of the matter was, he really did want to hurt the PRC. Every chance he got. And since it appeared that they had successfully broken contact, then it was time to take the fight to the enemy again.
After all, this wasn’t Chinese territory. The Triarii had a lot more right to be there than the PLAN marines did.
So, after a brief but tense deconfliction to reenter the perimeter, he brought Lovell, Spencer, LaForce, and Navarro in, quickly laid out the plan, and then they were moving, no longer running but now carefully working their way downhill, behind the PLA skirmish line, hunters in the dark once more.
The PLAN marines—if these guys were maritime militia, they’d definitely gotten some upgrades in gear and equipment—were spread out unevenly over the hillside, shining IR lasers and IR floodlights through the jungle, clearly depending on the illumination to aid their NVGs. Those NVGs were relatively flat, and as Hank stalked his prey, he saw that it appeared to be worn on a head mount, under the helmet. That had to be uncomfortable.
He glanced right and left. The section was forming an L-shape, following the skirmish line as it moved. The Mk 48s were at the top, on the short leg. Every man was moving pretty well, and while it was next to impossible to move silently in the jungle at night, the Triarii’s NVGs were good enough that they were doing a lot better job of it than the Chinese.
It wasn’t even fair. But war isn’t about “fair.” And the Triarii hadn’t started this war.
Hank lifted his rifle, put the red dot on the base of the PLAN marine’s skull, twenty feet in front of him, and fired.
The suppressed crack of the shot was all the signal the rest of the section needed.
A ragged, deadly crackle of suppressed rifle and machinegun fire tore through the jungle and the flesh and bone of the hunters become the hunted. Only the barest flicker of muzzle flash showed in the dark. Most of the Chinese soldiers never even knew what had happened.
Most, but not all. The chatter of unsuppressed 5.8mm rifle fire tore up the slope from below, bullets ripping through vegetation as IR lasers danced and flickered through the jungle. Answering 7.62 fire cracked in reply, but then Hank was bounding down the slope, angling to the south to try to get around on the flank. “On me!” The fight had started, so there was no more need for stealth, and he really didn’t want to lone-wolf this one.
Branches and vines snatched at him as he moved as fast as he could while maintaining control. Gunfire continued to bark and snap in the dark, though only the Chinese rifles were showing muzzle flash.
He almost stumbled on one of them. Two of the Chinese marines were toiling uphill, trying to be quiet, their IR lasers turned off—they must have figured out what a bad idea those were—when Hank, flanked by Evans and Bishop, came through the brush right in front of them.
One of them didn’t even notice, his head down, struggling with the slope. The other looked up, and Hank saw that his NVGs had only one objective lens, though they covered both eyes. He hadn’t seen NVGs like that since he’d last worked with the ancient PVS-7Bs.
For a second, everyone froze. But only for a second.
The one who’d had his head up was trying to bring his rifle to bear, but he’d been cradling it in his arms rather than keeping it in both hands, at the ready. Bishop shot him in the chest, as Hank snapped his own rifle up and put two rounds into the hapless second man, whose head was still down. The first shot hit center mass, and he staggered, but it must have hit a rifle plate. He didn’t go down until the second round tore through his arm and into his side, and he collapsed to the jungle floor, screaming.
By then, Evans had blown a chunk of those weird, flat NVGs through the first man’s brainstem.
The jungle got quiet again. Even the battle of drones had quieted.
The Triarii continued to sweep through the kill zone. A couple more gunshots sounded. Hank wondered if those were insurance shots, or if some of the PLAN marines had tried to keep fighting.
He should probably check. But right then, he really didn’t care.
“Six Four, Seven Two.” Chan’s transmission was scratchy and broken, but readable. “Status?”
“Seven Two, Six Four.” Hank’s voice was a little raw. “Just engaged what appears to be roughly a platoon of PLAN marines attempting to sweep our position. We have at least one casualty, but we’re still here.”
“Roger.” Chan didn’t sound happy. “It appears that the PLAN marines decided to augment the militia tonight.” That didn’t sound good. It sounded like the entire plan had gone south. “The NPA was ready for something, too, though it sounds like our Eagles still made pretty short work of them.”
“Copy all.” Hank’s exhaustion threatened his equilibrium. “Our boats got shot up; we’re going to need extract. Let me get things sorted out here, and then we’ll consolidate on the beach just south of Phase Line Green One.”
Looks like tonight’s a loss. The only question is, how bad a loss is it?
Chapter 14
“Chinese spokesmen have accused rogue elements of the Armed Forces of the Philippines of supporting pirates preying on Chinese fishermen in the South China Sea. The violence at the north of Palawan the other night, which resulted in some ten or fifteen PLAN marines being killed was reportedly the result of an operation to suppress these pirate attacks.” The Filipina news reader looked out from the TV screen with a combination of sin
cerity and earnestness that was flawless enough to be entirely fake.
Some things are universal.
“Ten or fifteen, my ass,” Hank muttered.
“You mean the Chinese under-counted their casualties?” Laki put a massive hand to his chest. “You don’t say.”
Hank snorted. The hotel room was a far cry from the jungle. It was a bit of whiplash, sitting in civilian clothing in the comfortable, air-conditioned hotel room less than forty-eight hours after being in a life-or-death fight in the weeds and the dark, soaked and sweating, then policing up the three dead Triarii—Kandinsky, Adams, and Finn—so that there would be no trace that Americans had been involved at all.
The funerals had been brief, the bodies buried at sea. There was no other way to do it. Deniability demanded it.
Overall, it had been a costly night. Three raiders sunk by the Kunming, with only about half the crews retrieved. Three of Hank’s section dead, and two of Chan’s wounded. A good two dozen drones expended, which was a lot less of a loss than the men. But the cost, for what had been accomplished, was pretty steep.
And the repercussions with the Philippine authorities they’d made their arrangement with was why they were sitting in this hotel room, just down the hall from the suite where they’d met with Ayala and the others.
The knock at the door brought Hank, Vetter, Chan, Laki, and one more section leader named Bonifacio, whom Hank hadn’t met before, to their feet. Laki moved to the door, his hand resting on the pistol in his waistband, and checked the peephole. Then he stepped aside, unlocked the door, and let Habu and another young, whip-lean, hard-eyed man inside.
Habu looked around the room as Laki secured the door behind him, his eyes taking in the TV as he did so. Bonifacio had turned the news down, but Habu smiled a little. “Don’t let the news get to you.” He went to the desk, flipped the chair around, and sat down, looking around at the Triarii leaders. “Believe me, this is normal. The Chinese have plenty of influence in the media in this country, largely thanks to Duterte’s dalliance with them a few years ago, not to mention a growing sense that with the US’ withdrawals from the international scene, we have no choice but to ally with them. Add in all the other political infighting, and it gives Chinese information operations a leg up that they might not have otherwise.”
“Oh, we’re used to it.” Vetter sat down on the corner of the bed. “We get run down in the press back home all the time.” He nodded toward the TV. “This is tame. It helps that they have no idea we were even there. No, our worry is how this is going to affect our relationship moving forward. None of us can honestly say that the other night went well.”
Habu shrugged a little. “Maybe not on your end. We got Tolentino and two of his lieutenants, about ten NPA fighters, and a pretty large cache. No Chinese, though. You beat us on that count, though unfortunately they came in and policed up their dead after you broke contact.”
“We sure didn’t manage to stop any of the trawlers, though, and that was half the objective of the whole operation. And the dead PLAN marines put all of us in a bit of a bind, unless that—” he pointed at the TV “—is just soothing propaganda when the newsreaders say that Manila is adamant about avoiding war with the PRC.”
Habu got serious. “No, that is the official word that has been passed down through the Department of National Defense, direct from the President. Open war with China is not acceptable.” He clearly wasn’t happy about it, given what he’d seen, but he maintained his professional demeanor. “Given the current fighting on Mindanao, which just spread to Cebu and Basilan again, we simply do not have the resources to fight China, even over Second Thomas Shoal.”
“How many in the government know we were involved?” Chan was leaning against the wall near the door, as much for security as simply finding a place in the small hotel room to stand.
“Outside of Madam Ayala’s bloc? Very few.” Habu folded his arms. “While I’m sure that there are plenty of recriminations flying around, if it hadn’t been you, it would have been Philippine marines. Too many of our politicians are worried about the Chinese reaction to this, without addressing the problem that the PLAN had their marines and their ships well within our territorial waters, in what amounts to an armed invasion of sovereign Philippine soil. They’re so worried about what might happen that they’re trying to ignore what’s already happened.” The Philippine officer was clearly getting angry about it. “They’re desperate to avoid a war that’s already started.”
“Welcome to the club, my friend.” Vetter sounded vaguely amused. “So, from what you’ve heard, where do we stand?”
“We do not have specific orders as yet. Our operational intent remains the same—suppress the NPA on Palawan. From what we have been told, Madam Ayala has not yet made a decision one way or the other concerning the contract. So…”
“So we proceed as initially planned, before she can make a decision.” Vetter had never been one to sit around and wait for everything to fall into a neat little row. He was all about making things happen, and Hank liked it.
Habu nodded. “I would say that is the safest course of action at the moment. If your role in the other night’s fighting had become public, we might have more of a problem, but at the moment, this probably appears to simply be more Chinese bullying to anyone who is not read-in on our operation. The questions being raised in Manila right now are about what to do about it, not what role some mysterious Americans might have played in it.”
“The problem is, the Chinese must be quite confident that nothing much will be done about it, if they were cocky enough to bring the Kunming right in to a couple miles offshore.” Chan hadn’t moved, and clearly wasn’t nearly as optimistic as Habu. “They don’t act without having a plan in place.” He pointed to the now-muted TV. “The information warfare part is only a sliver of it, but notice how fast that ‘piracy’ narrative came out? I guarantee they already had that one ready to go even before the Kunming got its marching orders. They’ve hit Palawan before, and with Second Thomas Shoal in their hands, de facto control of Palawan is next.”
Habu’s companion shook his head. “As you said, they tried once before. Direct invasion would only invite open war. If they wanted that, would they really be making this story up about pirates?”
Chan raised an eyebrow. “Notice I said, ‘de facto control.’ They’ve done this sort of thing elsewhere.” He nodded toward Hank. “Several of us have dealt with their attempts Stateside, on the West Coast or in Texas. They won’t try to rule Palawan. They’ll just station enough ‘security assistance forces’ to make it a really bad idea to cross them.”
Habu was thinking it over, his eyes narrowed. Hank was, too. He hadn’t heard this particular theory from Chan before, but it made sense, especially given what they’d seen the PRC do already in the course of the war. Start trouble, move in to “contain” trouble, slowly take what they want while shoving everyone else aside.
“You think the aid to the NPA was simply a provocation, with just this scenario as the planned endgame?” Habu sounded slightly skeptical, but he wasn’t dismissing it out of hand.
“I think it’s entirely possible.” Chan was warming to the subject, and Vetter was sitting back, his arms folded, letting him proceed. “They’ve done the same thing elsewhere. Africa, most notably, though there are some indicators that they’ve pursued the same strategy in Mexico. As a matter of fact, while nobody has quite been able to prove it, I don’t think I’m the only one in this room who believes that they were ultimately behind the cyber attack that gave them the opening to try to seize our West Coast ports.”
Habu and his companion exchanged glances, the younger man rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Why Palawan, though? And why now?”
“The question, ‘Why now?’ has been on a lot of minds lately.” Vetter nodded to Chan as he took over. “There are a few theories, including the possibility that the Chinese economy is on the verge of collapse. It’s never been as strong as they’ve made it out
to be on the world stage. You don’t build entire ‘ghost cities’ just for something to do if you’ve got a healthy economy. So, if they’re sitting about where the Soviet Union was in the 1920s, and their own version of the New Economic Plan hasn’t panned out…” He shrugged. “If they bring everyone else to their knees, while grabbing every strategic resource they can by force, then they might be able to weather the storm.
“As for why Palawan? Simple. It’s part of the First Island Chain. This is the line that the Chinese have been looking at as their prison, keeping them hemmed in from the wider Pacific, for decades. Palawan is one of the ‘fences’ that would strengthen their control of the South China Sea and let them control access to the Sulu Sea. Yeah, the rest of the Philippines are still sitting between them and the Second Island Chain, but Palawan is a good start. It gives them a foothold and control of at least two chokepoints. With Palawan effectively in their hands, then nobody’s going to be able to effectively contest their control of the South China Sea.
“The other reason is that with the trouble y’all are dealing with on Mindanao—which I’m sure they’re doing their best to accelerate—the Philippines are the easiest target right now. Even Indonesia would be a harder nut to crack. The Senkaku Islands would put them in a shooting war with Japan, and despite all their saber rattling over the last few years, even the PLAN isn’t sure they’d come out on top there, at least not without significant losses.” His voice had turned hard and grim. “And I hate to say it, but the Philippine Navy, for all your modernization programs, won’t be able to hurt the PLAN the way the Japanese MSDF would.”
The younger LRR operator didn’t look happy, but Habu just nodded. “I cannot fault your logic.”
“Oh, boy.” Bonifacio had just glanced at the TV, and bent to scoop up the remote, turning the sound back up. “Check this out. Things just got more complicated.”
“…conference urging calm and warning against the repercussions if any of the nations around the South China Sea were to escalate, following recent events, Ambassador Trent announced that the United States is keeping a close eye on the South China Sea. The question of what the United States could really do about a regional war in the South Pacific has been raised by several world leaders, as the US is currently embroiled in a major war in Europe, and has considerable domestic problems of its own.” The newsreader cut away to a video of a gray-hulled warship flying the American flag cutting through the ocean. “In the meantime, the USS Lake Erie has turned south toward the Paracel and Spratly Islands, ostensibly on a Freedom of Navigation Exercise. Several analysts believe that the timing of the exercise has been calculated to act as a deterrent to further aggression in the South China Sea, but have also questioned whether the United States has enough naval power remaining in the Pacific, following the accident in Hawaii last year, to back that deterrent up. In the meantime, two more Chinese Type 52 destroyers, the Hefei and the Nanning, have moved south into the Spratly Islands, closer to Palawan itself.”