“Once Mahto clears the way I want you to put six on the house. Have you got any pyrotechnic rounds?”
“I have six pyros.”
“Load ‘em.” That would have been difficult to do while in motion. But, when the team paused, Pun had his opportunity.
Lee heard a series of coughs and knew that Mahto was firing at targets up ahead. “That’s one,” Thapa said. “That’s two… Three was a miss. Over.”
That’s five altogether, Lee thought. We’re making progress.
At least half-a-dozen enemy soldiers were stationed in and around the house with two chimneys. The Chinese opened fire. That forced the team to advance slowly. An enemy bullet snatched Private Yubraj Gurung off his feet and threw him backwards. The Gurkhas redoubled their fire. Lee turned to Pun. “Put all six on the building.”
The grenade launcher began to chug. Each shot was followed by a pause, followed by an explosion, followed by flames. The entire house was on fire within 60 seconds. Flames shot out through the windows as Chinese escaped through the doors. But they were silhouetted against the conflagration behind them—and easy meat for the Allied troops.
Cato, Thapa, and the rest of them fired short three-round bursts. Soldiers jerked, spun, and fell. Lee added his fire to the rest. The fight was over in minutes. Lee could feel the heat from the burning blaze as he approached the house. Bodies were sprawled all around. That’s six, seven, eight, nine and ten, Lee thought. And it’s my guess that there are a couple of KIAs in the house. So, we have…
Kwan was about ten feet away, standing next to a corpse, when it reached out to grab her ankle. She uttered a surprised yelp, aimed her carbine, and fired a burst. The soldier jerked spastically--and his hand fell away.
Had the wounded soldier been trying to get her attention? Or to take her down? It didn’t matter. Dead was dead. “You did the right thing,” Lee said.
Kwan didn’t seem to hear. She just stood there, staring down at the body, and crying. “I didn’t mean to kill him,” she said. “He surprised me.”
“That’s how combat is,” Lee replied. “Pull yourself together. The men are counting on you.”
Kwan wiped her eyes with a sleeve, as Lee spoke into the wire-thin boom mike. “Viper-Six to Viper-Two-Two. Over.”
The response was immediate. “We can hear gunfire,” Jangchup said. “What’s happening?”
“We’re pushing the Chinese back,” Lee said. “We are at the house. Where are you?”
It turned out that Jangchup and the family were at what had been Ishya’s mother’s house. It was, judging from the lama’s directions, about half-a-mile away. Cato was listening. “This is Viper-Eight. I have it,” the green beret said. “Over.”
Lee turned to Thapa. “What about Gurung’s body?”
“We can’t afford to carry it,” Thapa replied. “He’s a Gurkha. He understands.”
Lee took note of the way Thapa used the present tense. Gurung continued to exist insofar as Thapa was concerned. And the same was likely to be true for most of the other Gurkhas. About 70 percent of them were likely to be Buddhists. Lee nodded. “Gurung is a good man. Be sure to collect his weapons.”
Lee switched his radio on. “Viper-Six to Viper-Eight. Let’s go. Over.”
Cato began to jog with the team strung out behind him. The open formation snaked past a convenience store, a pharmacy, and a bus station before turning down a narrow lane. One and two-story houses lined both sides of the street. There were animal pens too. The pungent odor of their dung hung in the air. “This is Eight,” Cato said. “The house is up ahead.”
“This is One,” Lee added. “Bring your party out to meet us Viper-Two-Two.”
Lee saw a blob of light play across the street ahead as Jangchup and two warmly dressed adults appeared. And as the distance closed, it became obvious that one of them was a woman carrying a well-wrapped bundle. The Dalai Lama? Or the DL as Cato referred to him? Yes.
“Viper-One-Six will take charge of the bodyguards, the family, Jangchup and Binsa,” Lee said. “Do you read me doctor?”
“I read you,” Kwan replied. “What…”
Kwan didn’t get to finish her sentence. “Drone!” Evers shouted, as a quadcopter drone appeared out of the surrounding darkness. It had a greenish hue as seen through Lee’s night vision gear, and was accompanied by a mosquito-like whine.
A light speared down to pin Lee in its glare as the machine hovered above. Lee resisted the impulse to shoot it down. “Don’t fire!” the green beret ordered. “Most of us are going to run east, toward the Chinese outpost, while Viper-One-Six takes her party west. Follow me!”
Kwan stood dumbfounded as Lee began to run, as if trying to escape the drone, with Cato, Evers, and the Gurkhas strung out in a line. The drone followed them. Then she understood. Lee was drawing the Chinese forces away so she could lead the others to safety! Even though she was completely unqualified for the task. Shit, shit, shit.
Think, Kwan thought. “What would Lee do?”
Kwan turned to Niu Yu. “We’re returning to the cave. Take the point. I’ll take the two-slot. A fast walk… No more than that.”
Then Kwan turned to Sam Waller. The American was armed with a British issue L85A3 Assault rifle. “You’re on drag,” Kwan told the giant. “If they follow us the Dalai Lama will die. Got it?”
“Don’t worry, Doc,” Waller growled. “I’ve got this.”
“Good,” Kwan said. They’re following my orders, Kwan thought. That’s amazing. Don’t fuck up. “All right let’s get going. Spread out, but keep the person in front of you in sight.”
Yu had a Glock 17 in each hand. Her dark clothing was perfect for nighttime conditions, and the bodyguard moved with such grace that she seemed to float just above the ground. The Dalai Lama was on the move.
Lee allowed the drone to follow the team for two-blocks before giving Evers permission to destroy it. The consumer grade drone disintegrated as a burst hit it. Bits of metal and plastic fell like confetti. “Chinese reinforcements are on the way,” Lee said. “This is our chance to kill the rest of them. See the building with the flat roof? I want Mahto and Pun up top with everyone else behind the low wall.”
The men took their places, and not a moment too soon, as the growl of engines was heard. A light duty UAZ-469 utility vehicle led the way, with a FAW MV3 following behind. It was the equivalent of an army M939 5-ton 6X6 with room for troops in the back.
Lee was peering over the wall. “Viper-One-One will kill the passenger in the lead vehicle. Viper-One-Three will put all six on truck two. Over.”
Mahto fired from the roof. The 469’s windshield shattered and the dimly seen figure slumped sideways. The officer in charge? Lee hoped so. And the odds were pretty good.
Pun was dropping 40mm HE grenades on the second vehicle. No one had to tell the Gurkha how important it was to strike before the Chinese troops could deass the truck and disperse. The bright orange-red explosions came in quick succession. Then the truck exploded hurling body parts high into the air. That should do it, Lee thought as the bloody rain fell. We’re all set. Then a detachment of Chinese mountain troops attacked from the north.
Kwan heard the explosions, knew that Lee and his team were engaging the Chinese, and bit her lower lip. Lee was leading a diversion so that she, the Dalai Lama, and the rest of them could escape. And the green beret could get killed in the process. Why do you care? Kwan wondered. Because he’s a fellow American? Or is there something more going on? No, Kwan decided. That’s silly. You barely know him.
“Soldiers ahead,” Yu whispered. “Take cover. Now.”
Kwan motioned for Ishya, Bibek and Jangchup to get down as Yu moved forward. A house was positioned to the right and upslope. A kerosene lantern dangled outside. To guide someone home? Perhaps.
Yu trudged forward. Her pistols had disappeared—and thanks to the pack she wore Yu looked like a traveler. More than that she appeared to be helpless. And the soldiers reacted accordingly. There were t
hree of them, and Kwan heard one speak. She couldn’t make out the words at that distance but assumed he was ordering Yu to stop. It was the last thing he did.
Yu kept the Chinese Butterfly swords in sheaths strapped to the undersurface of her forearms and hidden within voluminous sleeves. They were simple weapons with short blades and enclosed handguards. Light flashed off polished steel as Yu crossed her arms and pulled the weapons into the open. A single slash cut through the first soldier’s throat and nearly took his head off.
Blood spurted, and the soldier fell, as Yu sidestepped an attack from soldier two, and slashed three. His nose flew off. As his hands came up to cover the hole, Yu stabbed him. He collapsed. The knife was trapped between two ribs. Yu turned with plans to kill soldier three. But the badly wounded man was running towards Kwan.
There hadn’t been any gunshots up to that point and the last thing Kwan wanted to do was to bring more enemy soldiers to the scene. So, she tripped the soldier, and was about to jump him when Sam Waller appeared. “I’ll take care of that,” the American said, as he drew a knife. His arm rose and fell. There was no mercy—the very thing Kwan’s life had been dedicated to.
Maybe she would feel something later. But not then, not with everything at risk. “Drag the bodies off the road,” Kwan instructed. “Hide them.”
Once that was accomplished Yu led the group forward. The mine, Kwan thought. We have to reach the mine.
The Chinese counterattack would have been relatively easy to deal with had it not been for the Russian-made Mil Mi-8 twin-turbine helicopter that roared in out of the darkness and opened fire on Lee’s team. Though mainly used as transports, some Mi-8s were armed with machine guns and unguided rockets. And the helicopter’s pilot made good use of both.
“Take cover!” Lee shouted, as rockets hit the building’s roof and exploded. Once all four of the missiles were gone the pilot opened fire with the KV-4 machine gun located in the ship’s nose. Bullets whined, buzzed and snapped all around the special ops team as it went to ground.
In the meantime, the Chinese ground troops were moving in and taking ground. Lee wanted to stop them, had to stop them, but couldn’t. Not with fire pouring down from above.
That was when the Mi-8 stopped firing long enough to hover over the roof. From his position behind a waist-high wall Lee could see troops slide down ropes to the building below. In less than a minute the PLA soldiers would start to pick targets and fire from above.
But Pun was still there, hiding in the shadows. And as the troops began to land he fired. One, two, three grenades… All of which sailed in through the helicopter’s open hatch to explode in quick succession.
The Mi-8 seemed to expand as it gave birth to a red-orange ball of fire and a clap of artificial thunder. A rotor flew into the night as the fuselage fell straight down. It landed on three soldiers who vanished as a secondary explosion consumed them.
Lee was about to turn his attention to the ground troops when Thapa appeared at his side. “The area is secured, sah.”
Lee looked around. There was no movement. An uneasy silence descended on Kulekhani. The battle was over.
CHAPTER TEN
PLA Special Forces Compound 8, Nepal
Tong arrived at the Special Forces Compound to find that everything of any use was being loaded onto trucks. That included equipment weapons, ammo, office furniture, cookware, and the potted plant from Wang’s office.
The PLA officer was outside watching the activity while issuing the occasional order. His uniform was impeccable and he was sporting a swagger stick. “Don’t put all the ammunition on a single truck!” Wang shouted. “What if the Gweilo [Westerners] hit it from the air? Put a portion of it on each vehicle.”
A shame-faced corporal saluted and hurried off. Tong took the opportunity to approach. Wang returned his salute with the swagger stick. “Ah, Captain Tong! Welcome back. We’re moving as you can see. The Big Push is underway and our services are required elsewhere. Come… We’ll talk inside.”
Tong followed Wang into the building and down the main hall. Litter was scattered across the normally pristine floors. “This will do,” Wang said, as he opened a door.
It appeared as though the tiny windowless room had once been the province of a minor functionary. His handwriting was visible on a chalkboard, ancient file cabinets lined a wall, and a coat rack occupied one corner. Wang sat on a corner of the wooden desk which left Tong to perch on a rickety chair. “So, Hu was stealing from the government, and got what he deserved,” Wang said. “I know that much… Give me the details.”
Tong had no desire to relive the sanction but couldn’t refuse. So he told Wang about the investigation, how he and Sergeant Shi went about interrogating the smugglers, and the moment when Jaipal Kapoor broke.
“After that it was a matter of spotting Hu’s specially equipped truck, and hiding inside it. After Nola Bakshi entered, I revealed my presence. That’s when Bakshi attacked me with a knife. And, because she was a transsexual, the woman was strong. She damned near killed me. Suffice it to say that we fought and I won.
“Then we drove the truck to the rendezvous point, Colonel Hu arrived, and entered. I went in after him.”
“And then?” Wang inquired. He was clearly entranced.
Tong shrugged. “I went in. Hu was kneeling next to Bakshi’s body. He was sobbing.”
“You shot him?”
“Yes. And we burned the truck.”
Wang used the swagger stick to tap the side of his head. “That’s amazing. You can be sure that I will send a very positive report to the MSS.”
“Thank you,” Tong replied. “Can I return to my regular duties now?”
“No,” Wang said. “Not yet. I have another job for you, and that’s to finish the task that you and your original team were sent to accomplish.”
“You want me to kill the baby Dalai Lama? I thought another agent was going to take care of that.”
“He tried,” Wang said woodenly. “And he failed. So, before you can return to the pleasures of Beijing, it will be necessary to kill the Dalai Lama again.”
A mine near Kulekhani, Nepal
Lee’s attitude toward the mine had changed. What originally felt like a refuge was a prison now. After losing a platoon of soldiers in Kulekhani the PLA was not only looking for the culprits, but searching for the Dalai Lama, which was why drones and helicopters were crisscrossing the sky. Lee gave brief consideration to the possibility of an air evac. But the lack of a good spot on which to land meant that strategy was impractical for the moment.
Making the situation worse was the fact that the Dalai Lama was ill. Kwan said the problem was gastroenteritis, and she didn’t want the infant to travel, not until he could keep his food down. The standard course of treatment was a tablespoon of electrolyte solution administered at regular intervals to prevent dehydration. “A few days at most,” Kwan promised. “Then he’ll be good to go.”
In the meantime, all Lee could do was worry. Time seemed to drag and, without any notion of what the Chinese were doing, he became increasingly irritable.
Finally, in an attempt to reassure the American, Staff Sergeant Thapa offered to send a two-man team into Kulekhani for a look around. Lee was quick to accept.
Private Rambahadur Shrestha and Private Kilbur Rai, left immediately after sundown. They were dressed Nepali style and armed with suppressed pistols and kukris. “If you shoot someone the Chinese will know we’re close by,” Lee told them. “So, try to avoid it.”
Both soldiers nodded obediently.
The ensuing 24 hours seemed to last forever. But finally, just when Lee thought the Gurkhas were never going to return, they did. Rai spoke first. “There are a lot of Chinese soldiers in Kulekhani, sir… It’s hard to put an exact number on them, since they were broken up into patrols, but we think that a full company is on the ground.”
“That’s true,” Shrestha agreed. “But the soldiers we saw were fresh out of basic training.”
&n
bsp; Lee frowned. “Really? How can you tell?”
“Their uniforms are brand new,” Rai answered. “And so are their boots. Plus, when we were in the market, one of them discharged his weapon accidentally. A sergeant hit him in the face.”
That was interesting. Very interesting. And consistent with the Big Push. Rather than drop veterans into the remote village of Kulekhani, raw troops had been dispatched instead. “You entered the market?” Kwan inquired. “That seems pretty risky.”
“Private Rai was thirsty,” Shrestha explained. The implication being that Rai wanted a beer. Thapa frowned, and while nothing was said, Lee figured Rai would get an earful later on.
“You did a good job,” Lee told them. “Thank you.”
“So, what do you think?” Kwan inquired, once the Gurkhas were gone.
“I think we caught a break,” Lee replied. “It’s going to be easier to slip away given how green the Chinese troops are. How’s the DL doing?”
“He’s better,” Kwan responded. “I think we’ll be able to move him tomorrow.”
And Kwan was correct. When the following morning rolled around the baby was better. The day was spent packing and resting for what promised to be a difficult hike. They left at 2000 hours and headed east. Thanks to Thapa’s Gurkhas Lee knew their path was clear of PLA soldiers. But drones? All he could do was hope.
Kulekhani, Nepal
A lieutenant was waiting to greet Tong as the MSS agent stepped off the helicopter. The officer’s uniform was new—and the salute was parade ground smart. “Welcome to the village of Kulekhani, sir! My name is Chen. My men and I will assist you in every possible way.”
Tong returned the salute. A cold breeze found the back of his neck. What the agent could see of the village left him unimpressed. Kulekhani was a shithole, like all the other shitholes in Nepal, and a place to put behind him. “How many soldiers survived the attack?”
“Five, sir,” came the reply. “Two were evacuated, and the others are here.”
Red Dragon (Winds of War Book 3) Page 13