Chapter Thirty-three
Casualties and uncertainties.
I left Moscow a few hours later and finally reached Arkhara the next day on a special non-stop flight of a long range Bear turboprop. It was just me, a half dozen or so officers and civilians, and a bunch of nervous enlisted men, probably conscripts on their first plane ride. We finally reached Arkhara after the Bear flew far to the north in order to avoid the Chinese fighter planes newly installed at Irkutsk and Angarsk.
As soon as we landed a waiting Russian officer helped me catch a ride to the almost deserted Spetsnaz tent camp. He did not why he had been ordered to meet me and assist me.
Only the returned swimmers and a handful of the Spetsnaz explosive experts were in our camp when I walked in. They were all still there, as I knew they would be from our previous conversations, because they were waiting for the fighting to stop.
They had not moved because they were afraid they would be swept up and sent to the front—and, probably because they each had so much money, they were more than a little nervous and suspicious because of my sudden departure and equally sudden return.
In any event, everything changed when I explained I’d been off to Moscow to get more money. And it really changed when I offered them each one hundred thousand euros and American citizenship for each of them and their families—if they would make another run at the pontoon bridges at Chita, the ones the Chinese had thrown over the river to replace the bridges they had blown.
That was what the General Evans said I could offer them. I damn sure hope he can deliver. It’s going to be my ass if he doesn’t.
My swimmers believed me, all twenty-one of them. And all but one of them instantly agreed to go again if I could line up the necessary helicopters. That’s what I expected. After all, these were the men who twice before had been successful, and each time they returned they and their pilots had been immediately paid a lot of money as soon as they landed. And, besides, the men who had not returned were not there to throw a wet blanket on their enthusiasm to earn even more.
The only difference, which I somehow forget to mention, was that then I had the money in hand; now I don’t. I have no illusions as to what will happen to me if I tried to leave before they came back or if they do their jobs and weren’t paid. I would be toast and there was no half way about it.
Then I made the same offer to the Spetsnaz demolition guys if they would go into China by helicopter and take out a couple of bridges the swimmers could not access. They were even more enthusiastic than the swimmers. What the hell, how many times can they kill me?
******
The first of the seven very long trains carrying Bulganin and initial elements of his two divisions was pulling out of Khabarovsk when Bao and his men begin their march to the bridge over the ravine. General Bulgan was on the first train because it was quite possible the railroad had already been cut.
If it was cut, he and his men might be able to repair it and still be able to reach Chita in time. Otherwise they would start walking. The general needed to be there to make the decision.
Lieutenant Bao’s men were just beginning to place some of their demolition charges when an excited and shouting lookout stumbled and slid down the side of the ravine towards where Bao and his men were busy setting out the explosives.
“Lieutenant. Train is coming. Train is coming.”
“Down,” shouted Bao. “Everyone down. Let it pass.”
Letting the train pass was the right thing to do. And it probably would have worked. But every military unit inevitably has a fool and Bao’s was no exception.
Bulganin’s train was already passing over the bridge when one of Bao’s men decided to run to a better position where he thought he would be less likely to be seen. It was a fatal mistake. As every soldier knows, it is movement that attracts the eye; if you are wearing camouflage and don’t move there is a good chance you’ll never be seen.
Sure enough. Half the train had already passed and no one had seen him yet. But then he decided to run again to a new position behind an even thicker bush. That's when some of the men on the train saw him. They were, after all, on high alert fearing an ambush.
Two of the BMD gunners immediately opened up. So did quite a number of the freezing men crouching behind the wall of sandbags that ran on both sides of each flatcar. The runner was cut to shreds and the train ground to a halt half way over the bridge.
Engineers were not supposed to stop their trains if they were fired on. But for some reason this train's engineer did. The soldiers on the train, at least those who could, poured off of it as they’ve been instructed to do if the train ever stopped. Seconds later they saw the Chinese under the bridge and opened fire. The Chinese sergeant, Shen Jie, has just enough time to flip one of the timer switches before he was cut down.
The explosion shook the train and the bridge seemed to settle. But it didn’t go all the way down. Thirty minutes later Bulganin and several thousand of his men stood by the side of the tracks and watched intently as the train and its load of armor and self-propelled artillery very slowly inched its way across the sagging bridge with only the engineer on board.
Dead and wounded Chinese, and some Russians, were everywhere on the cold ground under the bridge as the train moved slowly over it. Lieutenant Bao was not among them. He instinctively sprinted down the ravine as soon as the first shots were fired. He’d never be found because less than a week later he would freeze to death while dreaming of his family.
******
General Bulganin was the first man to re-board the train. He rushed back to his command BMD and used the radio to contact the officers on the trains coming behind him via the radios in their tanks and BMDs.
“Attention all officers and all sergeants. This is General Bulganin. Listen carefully. The bridge over the ravine at kilometer 1617 has been damaged by the enemy but is still usable.
"All personnel except the engine driver are to dismount from their train before it reaches the bridge and the train is to move across the bridge very slowly. Troops are to walk through the ravine and re-board the train on the other side. Do not let your troops walk under the bridge.”
“I repeat. Do not let your men ride on the train when it crosses the ravine bridge at kilometer 1617 and do not let your men walk under the bridge.”
Bulganin left an entire company of infantry to protect the sagging bridge and care for the wounded and surrendered Chinese. The company’s men were to flag down trains approaching the bridge from either direction and pass on his orders regarding its use.
Less than an hour later, the troops were reloaded and the General’s train began pulling away from the damaged bridge. As it picked up speed, the men on the rear flatcars could see troops piling off a newly arriving train on the other side of the sagging bridge.
****** Chief Matthews
Transport planes carrying me and my swimmers and the Spetsnaz volunteers departed right after dawn the next day. And they almost didn’t take off at all. It took a late night call from an American bigwig, probably Evans because that’s who I called, to get my guys carried to Chita and enough helicopters released to carry them to their targets.
Finally some troop-carrying helicopters did get released and me and my guys were on our way to Chita to meet up with them. Supposedly when we get there we would find four troop carriers waiting to carry my swimmers to the Amur and two for the Spetsnaz teams going into China.
But that was only if we get there.
At the moment I was holding my breath as the four turboprops of the old AN-12 noisily roared and we lumbered down the Arkhara runway in the dark. I didn’t let it out until we lifted off to begin a long circuitous northern route to Chita. We weren’t taking any chances; instead of heading west towards Chita we’re going north for while in an effort to keep as far away as possible from Chinese fighters coming out of bases in China.
On board with me are about half of our teams of swimmers, Spetsnaz, and helicopter pilots and a
ll the gear and explosives they will need for tomorrow night’s insertion into the Amur. A second and similarly loaded AN-12 would follow us in about an hour with the other half. I’m no fool—I had my Russian liaison officer schedule the planes an hour apart so they’d be less likely to collide in the dark.
If all goes as planned, both planes will reach Chita and land before the sun comes up. That’s where we’d spend the day and hook up with the helicopters that would carry the swimmers to the Amur and the Spetsnaz engineers into China to take out two key bridges.
Admiral Flanigan is who called me with the details about the planes and helicopters. He said the army was sending the cash from Seoul to Vladivostok to Chita via a long range C-130. The plane was from a special air force squadron based at Fort Bragg. If all goes according to plan, knock on wood, it would bring the money in and then carry the survivors and me back to the States by the same route.
The money better get here in time or I’m really fucked. I know these guys; they'll kill me for sure if they aren't paid.
******
The old Mi-17 "Hip" helicopter carrying Russian Navy Lieutenant Commander Yakov Alksnis and eight other swimmers lifted off the snow dusted field outside Chita right after dark for the long roundabout trip to the Amur River pontoon bridges. All nine of the men came from the Russian naval base at Murmansk and they’ve worked together for years. Originally there were twelve but three didn’t make it back from their second bridge mission into China.
Stacked in the helicopter along with the nine Russian swimmers were 80 twenty-liter jerry cans of fuel, two folding step ladders, and two large funnels. The Russians were sitting on the cans and the door was partially open to disperse the fumes in case they leak. It was the first time Yakov could remember that no one was smoking.
Their plan was simple. They would fly on a long roundabout route to the Amur, land way upstream on an isolated section of the river bank to unload the swimmers and refuel, and then fly, deep in China, down the Chinese side of the Amur valley to pick the swimmers up at a similarly isolated location on the other side of the six pontoon bridges they were targeting. Four other choppers, apparently all that the Russians had left, would be flying different routes to bring swimmers and Spetznaz to the other bridges.
“For Christ’s sake,” Matthews had pleaded one last time through Anatoli, his interpreter, before they took off, “remember that this time two teams are assigned to each group of pontoon bridges and every timer is preset to go off at the same time. So don’t get excited or stop for even a second if you see someone else in the water.”
******
“So far so good,” Yakov shouted to his team over the engine noise as the Hip bounced and then settled on to the river bank. It tipped a bit to one side as it landed in the dark but not enough to cause a problem.
“Okay,” he shouted over his shoulder as he was the first man out the door. “Let’s go make some money.”
The men hauled their explosive packs to the nearby water, adjusted their scuba rebreathing units, and waded in. The Hip’s three crewmen ignored them as they listened intently for a minute or so for a Chinese response to their landing. Hearing nothing, they rushed to set up the ladders and began refilling the Hip’s fuel tanks. If there had been a problem they would have lifted off immediately and refueled somewhere else.
******
Alksnis and his swimmers quietly drifted down to the first of their six target bridges just after midnight. That’s where three of them, including Commander Alksnis, peeled away in a little group to take the first two bridges. The next three men continued on down the river to take the third and fourth bridges; the final three swimmers would take bridges five and six. When they finished they would swim as fast as they could without surfacing in order to meet the refueled Hip at the extraction point further on down the Amur. Similar operations involving the other swimmers and their pilots were occurring simultaneously at Red Army pontoon bridge crossings elsewhere on the river.
It was easy for the Murmansk men to see the pontoon bridges across the river because the vehicles coming in a constant stream from the Chinese side of the river were using their parking lights to light the way so they would not drive off the edge of the bridge and fall into the water. They could also hear outboard engines in the distance.
“It’s just as the American told us,” Yakov whispered as his two men tread water around him and let the current carry them closer and closer in the darkness. “They are using skiffs with outboard motors to hold the pontoon boats in place against the Amur’s current.”
Yakov was a realist. He knew that attacking this bridge is going to be more difficult than last week’s bridges because of the skiffs with men in them Also there are more people around and the pontoon boats are far different and much more numerous than the handful of bridge supports we exploded last week. That was why the money was better.
A few moments later, all three silently slipped under the surface and let the current take them. A few minutes later, and no longer in contact with each other, they reached the first bridge. Yakov and his team had the first of the four bridges. The men with him are each assigned one of the next two. If they could, each of the three men would slap a couple of charges on the fourth bridge as they swam past it in the dark.
“Shit, they’re wood,” Yakov said to himself as he touched the bottom of the first skiff. “That means it’s going to take even longer. Oh well, the money’s good.” Then he dug into the floating bag he was towing and pulled out the first of the many little mines with their preset timers. One for each pontoon boat.
An hour or so later, and still under the water, he drifted down to put the three charges he had left on the fourth bridge. So far he hadn’t seen or heard another swimmer. And it was taking much longer than he expected.
The American warned them that the boats holding up the bridges would be rising and falling as tanks and vehicles moved over them. But he hadn’t expected such large and sudden moves. It made placing each of the little explosive charges much more time consuming, but not impossible.
****** Major Jerry Carpenter
Vern and I were on the side of little ridge looking down into the Amur Valley. It was a cold and crisp sunlit morning. With our binoculars we could clearly see what was left of the first Russian line, very little, and the very intense forward edge of the battle running all along the second line.
We were with the group of officers standing around General Chernenko at the Russian General’s incomplete third line. It ran all the way across the valley, the valley through which a spur line of the Trans-Siberian ran down from Chita towards the Chinese city of Manzhouli on the other side of the Amur River.
From up here it appears that some parts of the Russian first line were still intact. But not many. The Chinese had obviously rolled over most of it and around the rest. Now they were assaulting the Russians’ second line with everything they could bring up. Damn I’m glad we’re not down there. Those guys look to be in deep shit.
What we were looking down at was almost surreal. Artillery flashes and smoke were everywhere from here to the river. Periodically a streak of light and smoke flashed up into the sky from one side of the line or the other—and quite often the resulted in an exploding plane or helicopter.
Casualties must be tremendous on both sides. A few minutes ago Vern counted well over a hundred burning tanks and armored vehicles. And that was just on the small part of the front we could see.
******
We stayed awake and watched as the intense fighting continued all night and, if anything, grew in volume and intensity as it moved closer and closer to us. We knew it was moving towards us because we could see the flashes of light from exploding shells and from tracer rounds.
What we saw was not encouraging; things did not seem to be going all that well for the Russians. The disorganized and suffering survivors of the initial Chinese attacks had been coming through Chernenko’s positions all night long. As the sun came up the next morn
ing we could see what appeared to be significant Chinese breakthroughs in several parts of the second line.
Chernenko’s four seriously understrength divisions were next if the second line went down. Marshal Danovsky just came in to tell him he’s got to hold the Chinese long enough for the survivors coming through our lines to set up a new main line of resistance further back along the valley. That’s where the Russian artillery has already been relocated, and that’s where we would go ourselves if the Chinese break through here.
Sure enough. By sundown the Russian second line began to crumble and its survivors began flooding through our lines under the bright light of the flares being fired by both sides so they wouldn’t have to fight in the dark. Sometimes the retreating Russians came through in some semblance of order with their surviving tanks and vehicles; sometimes they didn’t. We could see them clearly because the flares were frequently lighting the battlefield in front of us as brightly as if it had been daytime.
******
There was a brief lull in the fighting as the sun came up the next morning. Individual stragglers were still coming through our lines but for the most part, the Russians in front of us who could retreat had already done so. The lull continued until about ten in the morning. Then Vern and I crouched with our translator in a hurriedly dug new hole as intermittent Chinese artillery rounds begin falling all along the Russians’ latest defensive line.
Looking through a narrow gap in the sandbags we’d piled three high around our hole we could see masses, huge masses, of Chinese troops and armor in the distance—and moving towards us. No more casually standing up to look at the battlefield to see what was going on. The Chinese are too close. If we can see them, they can see us. Interestingly enough, we don’t see nearly as many Chinese planes and helicopters as we saw yesterday. There weren’t as many of the Russians’ either.
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