Invasion: China (Invasion America) (Volume 5) Page 30

  “Check,” a woman said on a swivel chair.

  “Check two,” a man said, tapping his computer.

  “Check three,” the operator at the main panel said.

  “Okay, sir,” Mike told General Taylor. “It’s up and running.”

  “Thanks,” Taylor said. The general was a stocky man with a large gut, looking like a Russian wrestler. He had flushed features and his uniform was always rumpled as if he’d slept in it. Maybe he had. “Let’s see what intelligence has for us today,” Taylor told his three divisional commanders.

  Stan sipped more coffee as the electronic paper map lit up with color, depicting mountains, rivers, plains and built-up areas. Blue symbols were American units. Red was for Chinese.

  “Hmmm,” Taylor said. “Looks like the Chinese added more formations to their line last night. How come no one spotted these units moving up?”

  “This is just like Vietnam,” Stan said.

  “What kind of answer is that?” Taylor asked in a peeved tone.

  “The NVA were good at night movement,” Stan said. “That’s all I mean.”

  “I get that,” Taylor said. “But Vietnam was jungle. Show me the jungle here. None. Nowhere. Besides, none of that matters to me this morning. Once again, the bastards are throwing up heavier fronts than we expected. That means regular battle deployment instead of blitzkrieg. We need to move through this country, not fight every inch of the way.”

  Stan eyed the map. US 3rd Army Group drove for Harbin, the capital and largest city of Heilongjiang Province. It was the eighth most populous metropolitan area in China, with over fifteen million people. For their purposes, the city was important as a communications hub. The roads and rails of Heilongjiang Province all connected in Harbin. In winter, the provincial capital was bitterly cold, he’d read. The Chinese had actually nicknamed it the Ice City. Apparently, Harbin was notable for its beautiful ice sculptures in winter and its Russian legacy from Tsarist times. Good thing they were attacking in June instead of January.

  “We’re supposed to open this route,” Taylor said, peevishly. “I’d expected another day of motoring. Now the Chinese have sealed it up again, much sooner than we expected.”

  The divisional commanders nodded, Stan among them. That had been the continuing problem so far. Militia and guerilla forces rose up like weeds, slowing the advance long enough for the Chinese to rush yet another group of regular formations in front of them. That meant another formal assault, as the general had already said, with air and artillery assistance. They needed speed in order to shock the enemy and paralyze his reactions. That had happened the first week. At the end of the second, the Chinese were already stiffening as if they’d taken the measure of their enemies and knew what to do now.

  “Any ideas?” Taylor asked.

  Stan sipped his coffee in silence.

  “What’s this, Professor?” Taylor asked. “Usually you have something to say.”

  “Well…” Stan said.

  “Here we go,” General Peters muttered beside him.

  “Spit it out, Higgins,” Taylor said.

  Swallowing the rest of his coffee, tossing the cup aside, Stan pointed at the Songhua River. It flowed north to the Amur River between Siberia and Manchuria, and from here it reached south all the way to Harbin, actually curving west around the city and heading in the direction of the Great Manchurian Plain—the Russians drove toward Harbin from that direction. The river also happened to cut though the enemy’s latest defensive positions before them.

  “I see the Songhua,” Taylor said. “So what? It’s simply another obstacle, is all.”

  “Maybe it’s time we gave the Chinese a new flavor of stealthy maneuvers,” Stan said.

  “I don’t have time for your cryptic comments, Higgins. Just get to the point.”

  “As you know, sir, our Lees are amphibious.”

  Taylor squinted at Higgins as if he didn’t know that.

  The Lee was a twenty-ton scout or light tank. Stan liked them because they could do things a heavier Jefferson couldn’t. For one thing, the Lee could cross a bridge that couldn’t handle a Jefferson. It burned one-third as much fuel, which made a big difference in a cross-Manchurian sprint. Unfortunately, while the armor could resist 12.7mm guns and heavy caliber rifles, it couldn’t stop RPGs or 40mm autocannons, let alone a Chinese main battle tank’s round. As the name implied, the Lees scouted. They did not engage in frontal assaults like a MBT.

  Another thing that made the Lee interesting to Stan was its main armament. The light tank lacked a strong enough turret and chassis to take the recoil of a 120mm cannon, let alone a 175mm like the Jefferson. To give the Lee enough punch, the designers had installed a missile-firing barrel. That eliminated the need for a complex, stabilized cannon. The recoil from the missile was negligible, so the Lee’s barrel could super-elevate to target tall buildings, mountainsides and helicopters.

  Way back in the 1960s, the US Army had a similar design, the M551 Sheridan light tank. Back then, though, the electronics proved too crude and the Sheridan fired a large, 152mm low-velocity round with poor accuracy. It also fired one of the first guided missiles—the Shillelagh—which also had low reliability. The Sheridan had been a bust, but that was then and this was now.

  The Lee launched the proven Hellfire II missile for pinpoint accuracy. When simple bombardment was called for, the crew substituted a cheap dumb rocket with greater explosive power in place of the Hellfire’s sophisticated internal guidance system.

  Each of their battalions had a platoon of Lees. As Stan studied the map, he thought about General James Wolfe in the battle for Quebec City and Canada back in 1759. Maybe they could do something similar with the Lees.

  “Sir,” Stan said, “none of us are going to easily maneuver through the mountains.” He pointed at the rugged terrain beside the Songhua. “If we know it, the Chinese must realize it, too. If they’ve sticking to the procedures they’ve already shown, I’m sure they’ve already buried hordes of mines here, here and here.” He indicated easy open terrain.

  “I’m still not tracking your amphibious statement,” Taylor said.

  Stan thought about James Wolfe, about risks and rewards. No one liked having the enemy behind him. It rattled soldiers and it shook commanders when enemy tanks roamed around in their rear areas, blowing up supplies and destroying headquarters units. That’s what this was about, maneuvering behind the enemy—the risk—dislodging him psychologically and then destroying him physically—the reward.

  “This might sound like a radical idea,” Stan said. “But I think we can roll up these defenders from behind.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Taylor asked angrily, as red spots appeared on his cheeks. “I thought I told you to quite giving me cryptic comments.”

  “What’s your plan, Professor?” General Peters asked.

  “I call it river cruising,” Stan said. “We strip our divisions of the Lee platoons and put them altogether. That gives us about forty light tanks. We add forty IFVs with infantry. They’re amphibious too. That gives us eighty machines. They enter the river at dusk in single file. We’ll have to turn upstream and use the auxiliary motors. That means the batteries. They’re going to come close to draining by the end of the journey, but I think we can do this. Hmmm…if we could reach this area here,” Stan said, pointing at the map.

  “I suppose it sounds okay in theory,” Taylor said, dubiously.

  “I’ve tested a Lee before, sir, in the water,” Stan said. “Only the top three feet of the vehicle will extend above the river, while the engine is underwater. That will shield the noise and insure there’s no infrared signature for the enemy to spot. This way, we slip behind the Chinese in the dark. I think this is the best place to climb out of the river.”

  “Then what, you attack?” Taylor asked.

  “That’s the tricky part, sir,” Stan said. “I’m not sure. The Lees aren’t much good at frontal assaults. You need a Jefferson for that. Still, hit
ting the enemy fast from behind might be the best thing.”

  “What else is there?”

  “Well, sir, we could dig in behind some hills and block their reinforcement and retreat route, waiting until you broke through the front.”

  Taylor squinted at the map. “Maybe a combination of the idea would make the most sense. If you gain surprise, you want to use it attacking, not squander it sitting while the enemy gets used to you being there.”

  “That’s a good point,” Stan said.

  “The Lees could attack until they met heavy resistance. Then they dig in and wait.”

  “They couldn’t wait too long, though,” Stan said.

  “No…” Taylor said. “But maybe they wouldn’t reach heavy resistance. Maybe as the Lees attack from behind, V Corps begins a methodical frontal assault. The rearward attack will shake the Chinese forward commanders and soldiers. They’ll turn shaky, begin pulling back, and that’s when we smash them.”

  “It’s a risk for the Lees,” Stan admitted. “But risks often bring great rewards.”

  As he studied the map, stocky General Taylor swore, and he shook his head in amazement. “Where do you come up with ideas like this, Higgins?”

  Stan could tell him. It was through reading lots of history. But he knew from experience that no one here wanted to hear that. So he kept quiet.

  “It’s a brilliant idea,” Taylor said. “I love it. You’ve just volunteered to lead this harebrained scheme, unless you want to back out?”

  Stan kept his features neutral, but his increased heart rate let him know that suggesting a thing was many times different from having to lead it. Yet if his idea sent young men into danger, there was no way he could honorably stay behind.

  “It’s settled then,” Taylor said. “I’ll call First HQ and let them know what we have planned. Yes… I’ll suggest we barrage the enemy with artillery today to let the bastards think they’ve outsmarted us while they dig in against a frontal attack. We’ll even let them bring the rest of their formations up into the bag.”

  We hope to capture them, Stan silently added.

  “Then, tomorrow morning,” Taylor said, clapping his hands. “We smash them flat and scoop them up, adding them to our POW camps.”

  Stan nodded. He sure hoped that’s exactly how it worked.

  HARBIN, HEILONGJIANG PROVINCE

  Chief Guardian Inspector Shun Li of Northeast China inspected the outer tank traps of Harbin. Behind her followed a squad of East Lightning enforcers, big men in body armor and enclosed helmets with darkened visors. Each cradled a close-combat carbine. Each would shoot anyone she wanted. She need merely point and nod or say, “Kill.”

  Like trained beasts, they were eager to please. Like animals, they enjoyed their work with no remorse, and they frightened her more than she cared to admit.

  I am riding the tiger. If I try to climb down, the tiger will turn on me, devouring my body while I watch.

  She continued to kill others because Hong had maneuvered her into this post, giving her no choice. She’d tried to escape her fate by becoming the Police Minister of all China. Hong had outfoxed her once again. That day when he’d faced Army Minister Chao Pin, she should have turned her pistol on Hong, killing the monster when she had the opportunity. Now, it was too late.

  I will kill others as demanded of me, hollowing myself into a shell until I fade away, a murderous wraith, a ghost the world will curse.

  Fu Tao walked beside her. The diminutive killer wore an East Lightning officer’s uniform. She’d made him a lieutenant. Despite the rigged finger, he also kept a small gun tucked out of sight. His presence baffled people, and she refrained from ordering him to kill anyone. Fu Tao was her secret, a knife, metaphorically speaking, kept in her boot.

  Like her, he watched the masses digging trenches, a giant moat before Harbin. She halted. Tao stopped, and the enforcers clattered, their armor rattling as they, too, came to attention.

  Under the shade of the bill of her hat, Shun Li observed the plain. Dirt flew everywhere from one hundred thousand shovels or more. The people of Harbin took turns digging tank traps. The Americans came. Elsewhere in China and Mongolia, the Russians and German machines rolled over bloody Sino corpses. The people toiled here as soldiers and militiamen marched along the roads, advancing to meet the hated invaders.

  Chairman Hong and his generals kept the majority of the tanks back. They expended half-trained troops against the enemy, paving the route with flesh and blood. Meanwhile, East Lightning generals trained young men and women to fight a guerrilla war behind enemy lines. Among her various tasks, Shun Li goaded those generals to action.

  Today, she had another task. First, however, she observed the people. According to the latest report, the Americans would be before Harbin in six days, possibly five. Everything had to be ready by then. Before that, others were to wear the Americans down, slowing their rate of advance.

  “Shun Li,” Tao said.

  She glanced at the tiny man. He indicated a heavyset woman, a Militia major overseeing one section of tank traps.

  “Yes?” Shun Li asked the keen-eyed man.

  “I haven’t seen her work,” Tao said. “She just gives orders from the edge of the trench.”

  “Ah,” Shun Li. “Good. Thank you.” She regarded her enforcers. Then she motioned them to follow her. They perked up like hungry beasts.

  Shun Li sighed as she approached the major and the woman’s people. The Americans particularly frightened the masses. People had been listening to stories about the Americans for three years now. They were savages, barbarians, and had fought without mercy in North America. Now, the barbarians were in China to enact revenge.

  Are we universally guilty as a people for the nuclear weapons exploded in Oklahoma? Is that why everyone fears the Americans? The North Americans have a right to be angry with us.

  It didn’t matter, though, these American rights. Shun Li had a task to perform. She must goad the people to hard work. Otherwise, the Americans and Russians would win the race to the city.

  “What is your name, Major?” Shun Li asked in her coldest voice.

  The Militia major turned around. The woman wore a bronze Red Star on her throat for bravery. As the major’s gaze took in Shun Li and the enforcers, the major’s lips quivered with fear.

  “You know the orders,” Shun Li said. “Everyone digs, including the officers.”

  “My b-back,” the major stammered. “It doesn’t allow me to—”

  “There are no excuses,” Shun Li said. “Thus spoke Chairman Hong.”

  Three of the enforcers stepped up, with their carbines aimed at the major.

  Work stopped nearby and in moments, from farther out. Diggers peered out of their giant trenches, watching the tableau.

  “Please, Guardian Inspector,” the major pleaded. “I would work but—”

  Shun Li raised her right hand with its black pigskin glove.

  The major fell into agonized silence.

  Once, Shun Li realized, she had delighted in such power. There had been a time when she loved to make people wilt in terror. That had been before she realized there was a price to pay for murder. Karma was an ancient principle. The Americans had a saying for it: What goes around comes around. She’d fled North America in order to flee her fate. She didn’t want to die like a dog, shot in the back of the head. She’d come to believe that human dignity meant something.

  When did I ever come to believe in such nonsense? What was man but for a collection of random atoms that happened to produce life? She was no different from a rock or a cow. No one cared if she smashed a rock or butchered a cow for steaks. Why did it matter then if she had this major slaughtered? The major’s death would compel harder work from those witnessing the brutality.

  Shun Li parted her lips to give the order. She had to kill the major. East Lightning operatives no doubt watched her and reported to Hong, or to one of Hong’s watchdogs. If she failed in such a basic task, it was unlikely the C
hairman would recall her to her post of Police Minister. Without a powerful position to protect her…

  The major’s dark eyes pleaded silently for life. Suddenly, Shun Li was disgusted with her job. Why must she butcher people for Hong? Why couldn’t he do his own dirty work?

  No, you’re doing this to stay alive. Order her killed, and you will live.

  Shun Li wanted to mouth the words. As she tried, a terrible realization came upon her. This was her last chance. If she ordered the major’s death, she was doomed. The voice inside her sounded like her conscience, yet she knew it was something more.

  Am I having a supernatural experience? It might be possible, and that was even more frightening. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth—it was among the most ancient law of humanity.

  “Please,” the major whispered.

  Fear boiled up in Shun Li’s heart. She didn’t know the correct path. Closing her eyes, she tried to reason this through. Her mind wouldn’t respond, though. Maybe this was a heart thing, not a thinking thing.

  “Dig,” Shun Li told the major.

  The woman’s eyes flew open, and her mouth became slack. She couldn’t believe what Shun Li had just said.

  One of the three enforcers looked back at her. His dark visor seemed like a camera linked to the Chairman’s study. Hong watched her, and she knew he disapproved.

  “Do we kill her?” the enforcer asked.

  “No,” Shun Li said. “The major has just learned a valuable lesson. Everyone here has. Chairman Hong demands obedience. Yet there are times he knows when to grant mercy. But that mercy must be used for China’s glory.”

  “Long live Chairman Hong!” the major shouted.

  The major’s workers lifted their shovels, and they shouted in unison, “Long live Chairman Hong!”

  “The workers respect the major,” Tao whispered quietly.

  In shock, Shun Li stared at Tao. The little man was right.

  “You are very cunning,” Tao whispered. “I would not have thought of it—mercy as a manipulative tool. Now, I realize why the Chairman chose you as his Chief Guardian Inspector.”