Red Dragon (Winds of War Book 3)

by William Dietz

  That, as it turned out, was as near as a hydrant located 100 feet away. And by running a fire hose back to the trailers they could close the distance. “The owner is watching us from the tower,” Pun said. “And he’s very possessive where his salvage items are concerned. So much so that he may fly into a rage when we move things around. Can I pay him a fee?”

  “Absolutely,” Smith-Peet said, as he peeled some bills off his dwindling roll. “Let’s keep the asshole happy.”

  Columns of black smoke twisted upwards from the south, planes battled above, and an artillery duel was taking place to the west, as the group worked to empty the trailers.

  The temperature was in the middle 50s, which felt hot after weeks in the snow. People began to shed layers of clothing as they worked and the sun arced across the sky.

  Once the task was completed it was time to furnish the trailers with castoff chairs and tables, lay sleeping bags on the floors, and settle in. There was hardly any food left, but they had water, and felt reasonably safe. Two lookouts were on duty at all times.

  One roamed the perimeter looking for any signs of trouble, while the other stood watch on the tower’s second floor, which was as close as Bhatt would let them come to his quarters one floor up. And part of that sentry’s job was to keep the businessman from venturing out at night.

  The sun set, flashes of manmade light strobed the horizon, and rats emerged to scavenge for food. The soldiers shot them with silenced pistols until Lee ordered them to stop. “We’re running low on everything… And that includes ammo. Save it for the Chinese.”

  A northbound helicopter gave everyone a scare as it clattered overhead shortly after 0100. But the helo kept going and quickly disappeared. It took Lee a long time to get back to sleep after that, but he did eventually, and awoke shortly after sunrise.

  A shower enclosure had been constructed, and they took turns using it, which felt good. Lee was among the last to enjoy the steady flow of cold water, and had just emerged from the shed, when two Allied A-10 Warthogs swooped in from the north.

  Their presence was no mystery given the overall situation. The planes were designed to attack armored vehicles, and kill tanks which, thanks to the Big Push, were bound to be close by. But why open fire on a junkyard?

  Lee didn’t know, but watched in horror, as the lead plane opened fire with its distinctive 30X173mm GAU-8A avenger autocannon mounted in its nose. The depleted uranium armor-piercing shells plowed a path through the cars, trucks, tractors, tires, barrels, and piles of scrap before punching a large hole in the perimeter fence. Why? Because the jet jockeys didn’t know friendlies were in the area, that’s why.

  The second A-10 was no less destructive as it cut its own swathe of destruction through the yard a hundred yards east of the first pass. Bhatt was out on the walkway that circled his third-floor office screaming invective at the plane as it flashed past.

  The tower was such an obvious target that Lee figured Bhatt should have been thankful to get off so easily. But that would require a level of objectivity which the junkyard owner didn’t have. There hadn’t been time to take cover so Lee was sitting on a plastic chair, tying his boot laces, when Smith-Peet jogged past. “Come on!” he yelled. “We have a fire to put out.”

  Smith-Peet took off to the south with Lee and three soldiers following behind. The problem was obvious. A pile of salvaged lumber had taken a hit and was on fire. And that mattered because, with all of the potentially flammable junk in the yard, the blaze could spread. If that happened the group could lose its refuge.

  After casting about Evers found a hydrant along with a 50-foot length of hose. Once the two were hooked together, and the hydrant was on, a respectable, though not impressive, stream of water shot out of the brass nozzle and was aimed at the fire.

  Bhatt was yelling at them via his system of speakers. It appeared that Bhatt had reverted to the way he treated his workers. “You are too slow… Hurry! That wood will be worth a lot of money when the war is over--and people have to rebuild.”

  Evers flipped the businessman off, but the rest of the volunteer fire fighters ignored him, as they put water on the flames. A combination of steam and smoke billowed up into the air as they continued to knock the fire down. It was out 15 minutes later and, if Bhatt was appreciative, the merchant failed to make mention of it.

  The balance of the day was spent filling a nearby plastic tank with water, and digging privies 100 feet out. Lee was sharing a trail bar with Kwan when Smith-Peet came to join them. “I have good news! The folks at Trishul are going to create a diversion tonight and send a K-MAX loaded with supplies.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Kwan said, as she took a sip of water. “But how about a Blackhawk instead?”

  Smith-Peet shook his head. “I asked and Major Raj said, ‘no.’ He didn’t elaborate so it’s my guess that they’re short of Blackhawks, and or have something else in the works.”

  Lee felt a sense of frustration. How many times had they asked, only to be refused? Did they want to extract the DL or not? But there was no point in saying that and he didn’t.

  Smith-Peet left to spread the news, and Lee was about to continue the conversation with Kwan, when his eyes came to rest on a piece of junk. And that was when a wild and crazy idea entered his mind. A plan that could get the Dalai Lama out of Nepal. But would it work?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Bhatt Salvage Yard, three miles from the front.

  After parting company with Kwan, Lee went looking for Smith-Peet, and found him talking to Jangchup. “Just the people I want to see,” Lee told them. “I have an idea that would allow us to get the Dalai Lama, his mother, Binsa and Lama Jangchup out of here tonight.”

  Smith-Peet’s eyebrows rose. “That sounds too good to be true.”

  Lee smiled. “Maybe it is. But maybe not. Here goes: The K-MAX arrives and drops our supplies. Our passengers are strapped into a subcompact car. We hook it to the helo’s drop line, and the K-MAX takes the car to India, where a ground party is waiting. Boom! Mission accomplished.”

  Both men stared at him. Smith-Peet was the first to speak. “That’s a jolly good idea Old Fruit… It might work.”

  “We’d have to notify Major Raj, and rig a sling,” Lee said. “But there’s plenty of cable lying around here.”

  “I’m for it,” Jangchup said. “But we need Ishya’s approval. I will speak with her.”

  “Do that,” Smith-Peet said. “And check with Binsa too. The idea would work without Binsa, but I’d like to get her to safety.”

  Jangchup left and Smith-Peet turned to Lee. “Do you have a car in mind? If so, I’d like to see it.”

  “I do,” Lee replied. “Follow me.”

  A short walk took them to a light blue Kia Prime. It had four doors and was shaped like a min van. “I think it’s a 2000 or 2001 model, not that it matters,” Lee said.

  Smith Peet lifted the hood. “The engine is gone.”

  “Good,” Lee responded. “The less weight the better! All we need is an airtight cabin to protect our passengers from the wind and the cold.”

  “We can package them in their sleeping bags,” Smith-Peet said.

  “Perfect,” Lee replied.

  Jangchup arrived. There was a smile on his face. “Ishya says the flight can’t be any more dangerous than it is here. The planes made a big impression on her. And Binsa says it will be fun.”

  “All right,” Smith-Peet said. “I’ll get on the radio to Major Raj.”

  “And I’ll prep the car,” Lee said.

  After an hour of dithering by staff officers in Trishul the plan was approved. By that time Lee and Shrestha had located the necessary cable and cut it into four equal lengths, using Bhatt’s cutting torch. They had two wire cable clips and were looking for two more.

  So, with permission from on-high, the men drilled holes so that the cable leads could reach the car’s frame, where they were secured using thimbles and clamps.

  Once the prep work was c
omplete it was time to load sleeping bags and personal gear. And that was when the doubts crept in. What if a cable broke? What if the K-MAX pilot was incompetent? What if the Chinese fired a missile at the helo? Any of those outcomes would be Lee’s fault since the concept was his.

  Lee was wrestling with his own negativity, when Staff Sergeant Thapa appeared. “There’s a problem, sah.”

  “I hope it’s something simple,” Lee responded.

  “No, sah,” the Gurkha said expressionlessly. “Mr. Bhatt is missing.”

  Lee felt a surge of fear. “Gone? You’re sure?”

  “Yes, sah. He slid down a rope from his office to the ground. We think he left through the hole in fence.”

  Lee knew the Gurkha was referring to the hole one of the A-10s had made. Where was the businessman going? And for what purpose? All sorts of terrible possibilities crowded Lee’s mind. The obvious solution was to leave. But where would they go? And what about the extraction? “Does the colonel know?”

  “No, sah.”

  “Okay, let’s find him. We have an important decision to make.”

  PLA Special Forces Compound 12, Nepal

  PLA Captain, and soon to be MSS agent Tong, was in an especially good mood. And why not? A real officer had been named to replace him, along with an experienced XO, and they were going to arrive within the next two days. So, all he had to do was sit at Wang’s desk, write routine reports, and wait for the handover. He was proofing a spreadsheet when Sergeant Shin entered his office. “Sorry to bother you, sir… But some important Intel came in.”

  Tong put his pen down. “Okay, what have you got?”

  “The information originated from the CO of an infantry unit at the front,” Shin said. “According to his report a group of 10 men and 3 women are camping in a salvage yard owned by a Nepali national named Sajit Bhatt.”

  “So? That sounds like a problem Mr. Bhatt should solve.”

  Shin’s face was impassive. “One member of the group is white. One man is black. Another could be Japanese. Two are Chinese. Oh, and two of the three females are Nepalese, one of whom has a baby.”

  Tong came to his feet. “It’s them! It’s got to be them!”

  Shin offered a rare smile. “Yes, sir.”

  The Bhatt Salvage Yard, three miles from the front.

  Smith-Peet, Lee, and Thapa were holding a council of war. “The problem is that we don’t know why Bhatt left,” Smith-Peet said. “Was he going to get a six pack of Coke? Or to rat us out?”

  “I vote for option two,” Lee said.

  “Right,” Smith-Peet said. “That’s most likely. So, we have three choices. We can leave, but for where? There’s no safe place to go.

  “We can stay, in hopes that we can complete the extraction, and that Bhatt will return with a six pack.

  “Or we can stay, put the extraction off, and wait to see what develops.”

  Thapa was the first to respond. “Sah, we have 9 fighters counting the doctor. If the Chinese come, they will come hard, and we will lose.”

  It was an uncompromising assessment offered by one professional to another. Smith-Peet nodded. “You are correct Staff-Sergeant. But if we run, we’re likely to come under attack as well. And on uncertain ground.”

  “So, we’re screwed if we do, and screwed if we don’t,” Lee said.

  “Yes,” Smith-Peet replied. “Which option would you prefer?”

  Lee looked at Thapa and back again. “I say we stay, and try to get the DL out.”

  Smith-Peet turned to Thapa. “Staff Sergeant?”

  “Sah, I vote to stay.”

  Smith-Peet nodded. “I agree.”

  “One more thing,” Lee said.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t tell the people in Trishul. They will cancel the K-MAX mission if you do.”

  Smith-Peet smiled. “Are you Scottish by any chance?”

  Lee laughed. “Do I look Scottish?”

  “No,” Smith-Peet replied. “But you’re both stubborn and brave.

  “Right then… We will prepare to fight. And we will keep Mr. Bhatt’s disappearing act to ourselves. Let’s get to work.”

  The rest of the day was spent watching for a Chinese attack and preparing as best they could. The war continued off to the west, but with no activity in their immediate area, Lee was feeling more confident as the sun set. Bhatt had yet to return, but there hadn’t been an attack, and that seemed to suggest that the businessman was on a personal errand of some sort.

  The K-MAX was due at 2000 hours and, true to Major Raj’s promise, all hell broke loose at 1930. The diversion began with an artillery attack on the area directly south of them. That was followed by Allied bombing runs and a fake ground attack. All of which was calculated to keep the enemy focused on that area. The call came in 12 minutes later. “Tallboy to Viper-Two-Three. My truck is ten-out, approaching from the north. Over.”

  “This is Three actual,” Smith-Peet replied. “Welcome to the party. Once you drop the supplies standby for an outbound load.”

  “Roger that. Put a flare on the drop zone. Over.”

  Evers was ready. The flare was red and threw a circle of light.

  “I see it,” Tallboy confirmed. “Standby, over.”

  Tong was an MSS agent, not a trained army officer. But he could learn. And one of the things he had learned was how vulnerable helicopters were to a well-armed enemy. So rather than try to drop commandos onto the objective, as he’d done before, Tong used them to reach the area and nothing more.

  Tong had learned something else as well. And that was the value of overwhelming force. So, rather than depend on what remained of the Thunder God Commando alone, Tong requested a full company of troops from Colonel Xu.

  The zone commander couldn’t spare that many soldiers. But sent a 44-man platoon to reinforce the commando. That brought Tong’s force up to 60.

  The platoon was under the wide-eyed command of a Shao wei (2nd lieutenant) named Rong. After leading their men in from an LZ located one mile east of the salvage yard, the officers made final preparations. “I will lead the attack on the main gate,” Tong said. “You, and your men, will enter via the gap on the south side. We will trap the Waiguo ren [foreigners] between us. But remember… It’s dark, and there’s going to be a lot of ground clutter, so tell your men to be careful. Friendly fire won’t be tolerated. Do you understand?”

  Rong nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay take your men south. Let me know when you’re in position.”

  The clatter of a helicopter caused both men to look up. “Go!” Tong ordered. “Hurry.”

  Lee felt a sense of jubilation as the K-MAX hovered above the glowing flare. The pallet of badly needed supplies dangled below the drone. A thud was heard as the load landed. “Tallboy to Viper-Two-Three. I’m ready for the pickup. Light flare two. Over.”

  Evers lit a green flare and tossed it toward the tiny car. Jangchup, Ishya, Binsa and the Dalai Lama were strapped inside. Shrestha was on the roof holding a large O-ring in his hand. He was wearing night vision gear. And, as the K-MAX cable came his way, the Gurkha made a grab, and missed.

  “Try again,” Smith-Peet ordered. That was when a sniper shot Shrestha dead.

  Automatic weapons opened fire on the helicopter and Lee hurried to replace the Gurkha. He scrambled up over the KIA’s hood, grabbed hold of the O-Ring, and lifted it up. Four thick cables were attached to the ring so it took a concerted effort to lift and hold the combined weight aloft.

  The hook was equipped with a safety latch. A bullet snapped past Lee’s head as he grabbed onto the hook and forced the O-Ring in past the latch. Then Lee thumbed the transmit button on his radio. “It’s connected! Take it away!”

  The cable tightened as Tallboy pulled back on a miniature joystick, the KIA’s tires left the ground, and Lee jumped free. The drone staggered as it took ground fire but labored on.

  Tallboy was no dummy. And rather than try for more altitude, which would allow the Chinese to
fire on both the car and the drone, he sent the K-MAX skimming west.

  The tires cleared the perimeter by inches as Cato put in a call to Trishul. “Viper-Eight to Cobra Two-Two. You-know-who is on the way. We’re taking heavy fire. One KIA. Over.”

  Thapa was standing watch on the tower’s 3rd floor. “This is Viper-Five. We have roughly three-zero hostiles at the main gate, and the same number infiltrating from the south. Over.”

  “This is Viper-Two-Three,” Smith-Peet said. “Release the gas and light the bastards up. Over.”

  The gasoline was stored in a non-descript tank and used to fuel some of Bhatt’s heavy equipment. The liquid produced a gurgling sound as Pun turned a valve and sent a stream of pungent fuel through the shallow trench excavated earlier in the day. A match was sufficient to light it off. Three PLA soldiers were close enough to be consumed by the wall of fire. They screamed and performed a grotesque dance as flames ate into their flesh.

  Thapa had been waiting for the moment when the flames would illuminate the targets grouped beyond the fence. He fired careful three-round bursts, each intended to kill at least one PLA soldier, and had the satisfaction of seeing two men go down.

  Then Thapa had to grab Bhatt’s escape rope and slide to the ground as enemy fire converged on the tower and tore it apart.

  Once the K-MAX was on its way Lee hurried south to the point where Bhatt’s ancient Komatsu bulldozer stood waiting. He knew the earthmover would start because he’d spent the better part of an hour test driving the machine earlier. After struggling with the controls he’d been able to raise the blade, which remained in that position, and taught himself to move the tractor back and forth.

  Fortunately, that was all Lee had to do. As Thapa fired on the Chinese from cover Lee turned the key, felt the dozer rumble to life, and drove south. Evers was forward, along with Shekhawat, firing over the raised blade.

  Bullets pinged steel, ricochets whined as they sped away, and a grenade exploded in front of the tractor. Shrapnel clanged as it struck the blade and PLA soldiers screamed as they went down. Then, conscious of how easy it would be to flank the makeshift tank, Lee put the machine into reverse and backed away. “Keep firing!” he shouted. “Cut the bastards down!”