“See anything, boss?”
“Not a whole lot,” John said. “Town seems emp… wait a minute. I got a group of four soldiers heading down the main thoroughfare.”
“A patrol?”
“Looks that way.”
“At least now we know someone’s home.” John paused. “Two, maybe three Caucasians. But it’s hard to be sure.”
“Colonel, come in,” Reese squawked over the walkie.
“Go ahead.”
“I’ve got eyes on a Wal-Mart west of your position with lots of activity. I’ve counted at least two dozen soldiers coming and going.”
“Are they carrying anything?” John asked.
“Only their weapons. I’d say a number of ’em are Americans too, over.”
“So you think that’s the barracks?” Moss asked.
“That’s my guess, and probably the local headquarters too.”
John spoke into the walkie. “Reese, stay put and keep your eyes on that front entrance.”
“Hold up, Colonel,” Reese said at once. “Eight to ten spooks in black fatigues just entered the store.”
“Same boys who hit us near Knoxville?”
“Hard to say,” Reese replied. “But they sure are dressed the same.”
“Okay, keep eyes on. We’re moving around front to support you.”
John then ordered two members of the team to the north to redeploy atop a hill about three hundred yards from the store. The other two were to cover the exit around back. That way anyone coming or going would be under fire.
“Any ideas?” Reese asked once they’d climbed down and redeployed. One by one, his men radioed that they were in position.
John felt that familiar twitch in his belly. “I was hoping you’d have a suggestion.”
“I appreciate your confidence, Colonel. We can always employ the old pheasant-hunting tactic.”
“Enlighten me,” John said, intrigued.
“A sniper trick used by the Russians in Stalingrad. They’d identify a German command post, send in a few mortars in to loosen things up and when the German commander and his lieutenants came scrambling out, they’d drop ’em dead.”
“The rest of you get that?” John asked the team.
They replied in the affirmative.
“But watch your fire. I wanna do everything we can to avoid American casualties. Your main targets are the special ops troops in black camo and the People’s Liberation Army soldiers. Leave the Americans to me.”
And with that John called in three high explosive rounds on top of the store.
The first round fell short about ten yards to the left, destroying four rusted hulks still in the parking lot. A black puff of smoke rose up from the impact site. Since the store was in visible range for the mortar team, they immediately adjusted their fire. Seconds later the next round struck the roof. The detonation echoed off the surrounding homes. A yellow and orange gout of flame rose up from the roof. Right away, a handful of Chinese troops came swarming out of the improvised barracks.
“I got tangos all kinds,” Reese called out. “But it’s hard to tell the Americans from the Chinese.”
Two special forces soldiers emerged and John and Moss engaged them right away. Both dropped before they knew what hit them. But now the enemy could see where the rounds were coming from.
“Colonel, two more spooks just came out the back of the store,” the rear team reported.
“Take them out,” John shouted back.
The sound of gunfire erupted all around them.
Reese, positioned in the upstairs of an abandoned house, had knocked out a few panes of glass which he used as a loophole. He’d even positioned a filter screen to help mask his position. Even someone staring directly at his location would never know he was deep inside the room.
A muffled report from Reese’s Remington sounded a second later, followed by another special ops soldier dropping in the parking lot.
“Send in two more mortar rounds,” John called over the walkie. “Place these toward the back of the store. We wanna send them all out the front.”
John used his binoculars, scanning over the small clusters of Chinese troops firing back at them from behind rusted cars in the parking lot. They had the sun in their eyes, which explained why many of the shots were zipping over the heads of Alpha team. That was when John spotted a group of Americans. Ten soldiers, huddled behind a row of shopping carts. Their weapons were at the low ready, but they weren’t firing.
“I need to get closer,” John told the others. “Cover me.”
Before Moss could stop him, John high-crawled out from cover and worked his way toward the parking lot. The sound of AK rounds whizzing by pushed his head lower to the ground. He needed to get into shouting distance. By the time he reached the concrete the rate of fire coming toward them intensified. Some of the special forces were firing from their own concealed positions. The consistent thud from Reese’s suppressed rifle reassured him his men were still firing back.
“Moss, call in some mortar rounds on that clump of trees at the other end of the parking lot. There’s at least one spook back there.”
“Aye, aye.”
Just then came a loud crack as a sniper’s bullet impacted the butt stock of John’s AR. He rolled behind a clump of bushes.
“Reese, we may have a cuckoo on our hands,” John called in over his walkie.
A cuckoo was military slang for a sniper in a tree. During the Second World War many snipers were left behind in this way to cover the retreat of German troops from Russia.
“Scanning,” Reese called back.
Another shot hit the ground by John’s right arm. Pinned down with nowhere to go, it was only a matter of seconds before the next shot finished him off.
Seconds stretched into hours before John caught the silenced report from Reese’s rifle.
“Sniper down,” Reese said. “You were right about finding him in a tree. Saw a dark shape in the leaves of a maple and let him have it.”
With the enemy sniper out of action, John pushed himself up to his knees. The firefight was far from over and bullets were landing all around him. From behind him, Benson’s M249 and Moss’ M4 laid down an impressive volume of covering fire.
Cupping his hands around his mouth, John shouted, “American conscripts! The camp near Jonesboro has been liberated. There’s nothing anyone can do to your families.”
That was when the special forces commander, a red star adorning his helmet, rolled out from behind a nearby car. In that instant, John realized with horror he wasn’t going to have enough time to raise his AR to defend himself. Time slowed and the hatred and determination on the commander’s face left John with the utter conviction he was about to be killed.
Both of his arms swung down by his right side. That was where his assault rifle dangled from a two-point sling. His muzzle was halfway to the target when the commander’s chest exploded. For a moment, his eyes registered surprise and then frustration. There was no third emotion.
The remaining Chinese soldiers rose to flee and were cut down by the American conscripts.
John patted himself, searching for the wound he was sure he’d taken. Finding none, he breathed a deep sigh of relief and looked up to find a group of Americans in strange uniforms standing not ten feet away. Among them was Brandon.
Chapter 53
By the time the enemy was cleared out of Jamestown, they’d freed close to sixty American conscripts. The roads in and out of Oneida were still guarded by Chinese roadblocks and so John ordered them to return to town on the same trails through the Scott State Forest they’d used to arrive. The downside was that it would take the men a while to march the fifteen miles home, especially since he’d ordered them to carry as many extra weapons and as much ammo as they could. The rest of the supplies were strapped to the horses.
John left Reese and the other men from Alpha to accompany Brandon and the soldiers back to Oneida while he and Moss went ahead. They were on the
cusp of launching a major offensive and preparing everyone on their individual missions and responsibilities would take time.
No sooner had they arrived at the stables in Oneida than a sergeant from the 101st informed them Brooks was looking for them and he wasn’t happy. Of course, the soldier used a far more colorful metaphor involving boiling feces that created a rather vivid and disturbing image in John’s mind.
“Moss, you stay behind and make sure the rest of the Rough Riders sort through their gear. I want everyone ready to go in two hours. And bring the entrenching gear. We’ll likely be digging in the minute we arrive at Colonial Heights.”
“I’m on it.”
John rode his horse through the bustling streets of town. Around him was the ghostly squeal of M1A2 tanks and Bradleys heading through the town’s back streets as they assembled to the east. There weren’t nearly enough vehicles for the thousands who’d be joining them, so many of the infantry would need to head there on foot, a journey which would take many hours of hard marching. As it was, they would be coming up behind the Chinese position and the timing of their advance was critical. If they left before the enemy fell for the ruse and made a concerted push toward the American center line, they risked being caught out in the open and destroyed. If they waited too long, they might let the retreating Chinese escape. Of course everything would hinge on whether the enemy believed the false intel Phoenix was feeding them.
General Brooks was in the radio room when John arrived, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.
“I could have you court-martialed, Colonel,” he shouted. “We’re on the threshold of the biggest operation of the war and you go off disobeying a direct order.”
John bowed his head. “I brought sixty more American troops as well as weapons and ammunition from Jamestown.”
“I’m sure you did, but that doesn’t change a thing. I should put Moss in charge of your outfit and keep you here under house arrest.”
“If I didn’t bring Brandon home, General, it wouldn’t only have killed his mother and sister, it would have killed Gregory and likely the morale of many more. The Marines never leave a man behind and neither should we. There’s no excuse for disobeying a direct order and I’ll accept my punishment.”
“All right, John. You’re lucky I need you. I don’t care that this attack plan is your brain child, if you push me again, I won’t hesitate.”
“Understood.”
The two men stood staring at one another.
Henry was on the radio and looked back, concerned.
“Did Phoenix send the Chinese the message?” John asked.
Brooks nodded. “A few hours ago.”
“Any new troop developments?”
“Not yet.”
“If they attack without warning, we might not make it in time to keep the pressure on,” John said.
“Yes, but when do battles ever go according to plan? Getting there may be the least of our worries. We’ll have the unknown and Murphy’s law to contend with.” Brooks glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand. “General Dempsey thinks you’re some kind of Ulysses S. Grant. Frankly, I think you’re overrated and more importantly, I don’t think we have nearly enough men and materiel. There’s over a million Chinese troops strung along that mountain range and maybe five thousand of us. I’m worried it’s gonna be a bloodbath.”
A signal came in then and Henry pressed the headphones close to his ears. A moment he turned back, his face ashen. “The Chinese have begun their attack.”
Chapter 54
Diane and Emma were in the kitchen preparing lunch when John arrived and explained the situation.
“But who’s going to stay behind to defend Oneida?” his wife asked.
“The garrison will be more smoke and mirrors than actual men. We’ll set up machine-gun nests at key strong points, but most of the able-bodied men and women who know how to use a rifle will be marching east sometime within the next hour.”
“If you hadn’t suggested this plan in the first place,” Diane scolded him, “none of you would be leaving.”
The urge to crack a smile nearly got the better of him. “If you had a nickel for every time I told you you were right you’d be a rich woman. This plan is the best chance we have of saving American lives. General Dempsey was about to order a full-frontal attack on dug-in Chinese positions. The carnage would have been unbelievable.”
“Yes, but do you need to risk your own life, John?”
“I don’t want you to die, Dad,” Emma said.
“Neither do I, believe me,” he said, touching the back of his daughter’s head. “But how can I possibly ask my men to charge into battle if I’m not willing to stand beside them? Our faith has carried us this far. Don’t let it waver now when we need it the most.”
They caught the sound of footsteps heading tentatively down the corridor toward them. Soon a figure appeared in the doorway, one Diane and Emma didn’t recognize at first. Brandon dropped his duffel bag at his feet and smiled weakly and that was when Emma fainted.
•••
John held his daughter in his arms while Diane fanned her with cool air.
“I didn’t mean to,” Brandon said sheepishly.
“She’s been hoping for this day for so long,” John told him. “If Justin Speeber had walked through the door, she wouldn’t have been more surprised.”
“It’s Justin Bieber, Dad,” Emma said, coming to. “And I don’t listen to him anymore.”
John helped his daughter to her feet. “Hey, what do I know?”
She held onto the table as she stared at Brandon and poked him with her finger.
Diane snickered. “Yes, he’s real.”
“And I suggest you hug him quickly before he goes,” John told her.
Emma looked physically wounded by the suggestion.
“I’m sorry, honey. We need everyone with combat experience we can scrape together.”
“But, Dad, he just got back.”
“I’ll give you two a moment,” John said. He turned to Brandon. “Be at the rendezvous point in thirty minutes.”
Brandon nodded as Emma’s eyes filled with hot tears. The thought of torturing her in this way was heartbreaking, but there was no other way around it. The boy would never admit it to Emma, but he wanted desperately to be part of the American counterattack. John only prayed he’d come home to her in one piece.
Chapter 55
As promised, within the hour, the column left Oneida. Nearly six thousand strong, the force consisted of the scattered units from the 101st, 278th, and the 3rd Infantry Division as well as members of the town militia. The decision was made that they would move as a group. The tanks and Bradleys were split evenly between the front and the rear. At the back were the Humvees, many of them towing the 155mm artillery that had served them so well during the Chinese assault on the town. Over the last few weeks they’d managed to scrounge up enough fuel for the vehicles to enable a one-way trip to Colonial Heights. Finding a ride home afterward was something they would need to figure out when the time came.
Up toward the front of the group were John and his Rough Riders. Since many of them were on horseback, they could scout ahead and keep an eye out for Chinese roadblocks or ambushes.
The noticeable lack of such contact was not sitting well with any of them. They’d expected a running battle as they broke through the ring of Chinese forces on the way to their objective. Instead, it felt more like they were on a Sunday stroll east along Interstate 81.
Moss and two others came riding up alongside John.
“We just came across a Chinese anti-tank battery set up as part of the siege of Oneida.”
“Did you come under fire?” John asked.
“The gun wasn’t real. It was just a few logs lashed together and spray-painted green.”
“Was the paint fresh?”
“It looked it,” Moss said.
“The Chinese must have pulled men off the siege in the night to help bolster th
eir offensive.”
“You look worried.”
“I only hope the Chinese attack doesn’t somehow manage to break through. If they’re gathering soldiers off a high-profile threat like Oneida, there’s no telling how many of the enemy our boys in the mountains will be facing.” The thought brought him back to tales he’d heard from the Korean War where US GIs described hordes of Chinese troops swarming over the hills like hungry locusts.
•••
Every once in a while they would stop in order to establish radio contact with General Dempsey’s headquarters for a status report. The general himself was far too busy to speak with Henry or Rodriguez, but as John feared, one of his aides described a Chinese assault far more ferocious than any of them had expected. Over the last few weeks, each side had been sizing each other up like punch-drunk boxers. Crossing the Mississippi had been one thing, but dislodging a stubborn defender from hilltop positions was something else entirely.
It was only as they reached the edge of Colonial Heights, Tennessee that they came under fire. A platoon of Chinese soldiers were dug in along the interstate. Machine-gun nests with intersecting fields of fire would pose a problem for any approaching infantry. Immediately the armor moved up to eliminate the threat. The M1A2’s power 120mm cannon shook the ground as it pounded the enemy positions from more than a mile away. After that the Bradleys moved in, a squad of infantry in each vehicle. They opened up with their 25mm M242 chain guns, tearing into the remaining strong points with lethal accuracy. Soon, the Chinese unit climbed out of their foxholes and ran for their lives.
On one side of the interstate stood a row of houses. On the other were industrial buildings with low, flat rooftops. Both offered the perfect place from which to set up an ambush. General Brooks came over the walkie on a channel reserved for commanders. “I want all of these buildings swept and cleared and defensive positions established within the hour. When those Chinese columns come rolling down the 81 looking for an escape route, I wanna make sure they get the greeting they deserve.”
Last Stand: Turning the Tide (Book 4) Page 18