Invasion: China (Invasion America) (Volume 5) Page 36

  JIANXIANG RESERVOIR, JILIN PROVINCE

  The blitzkrieg is over, Stan told himself. This has turned into a slogging campaign.

  He stood outside his command Jefferson, training hi-powered binoculars on the shimmering reservoir water to the west.

  The 10th Armored Division was near the G1 Highway, ready to continue the drive for Changchun. Once more, he spearheaded V Corps, which was at the apex of First Army. The Cherokee battalion seldom flew into combat anymore. Well, what was left of the attack helicopters anyway. The weeks of firefights had chipped away at their numbers. He had six ships left, and Stan planned to save them for later.

  For that matter, he was already down to three quarters of his initial tanks. Frankly, he considered that an excellent record, considering how many engagements they’d been in already.

  Stan kept the binoculars steady as he scanned the reservoir. He’d sent out his scouts. Those boys had gotten clever, and they’d learned to hide and run sooner. If their intelligence was right, a Chinese offensive was in the making.

  A new division of Type 99 tanks had showed up, along with hovercraft and several infantry assault divisions, along with massed artillery. The number of soldiers impressed Stan.

  In a way—intellectually—he sympathized with the Chinese. As a combat problem, their dilemma intrigued him. China needed time to gather overseas units and train a home army into shape. If they waited too long to really fight back, the Russians, Americans and Europeans would control far too much of the country. Therefore, the Chinese kept throwing ill-trained forces into battle.

  We’re capturing tens of thousands, but it’s taking us time to deploy each time. Worse, it’s wearing down our machines, and the men, too.

  Pyrrhus once had that problem. He’d been a cousin through marriage to Alexander the Great. Pyrrhus had a well-oiled, tough army of Epirotes modeled on the Macedonian phalanx. The Romans of those days had conquered much of Greek southern Italy. Those Greeks had pleaded for Pyrrhus’ aid. He came, he fought hard battles against the Romans and beat them through clever tactics and war elephants. The trouble was that each engagement had cost him his best soldiers. After one of those wins, he said, “One more such victory and I am lost.”

  The ancient battles of Heraclea and Asculum coined the word, “Pyrrhic victory.”

  Russia and America had to avoid Pyrrhic victories here. They had to defeat the Chinese hard and fast. So far, Stan believed they had been doing that. Could they continue to smash the Chinese faster than the enemy could put up new forces?

  Stan had an idea about that, so he had deliberately put the 10th Armored Division into what might appear as an enemy noose.

  If the Chinese had enough air left or battlefield missiles, this could be suicide. Stan was betting the Chinese had too little of either. Instead, some clever general or marshal over there might want a clear-cut Chinese win for once. Well, here was their chance. That’s why Stan kept watching the reservoir. If he could tease the enemy hovers to try to flank him and cut him off…

  “Sir,” Stan’s XO shouted. “There’s an artillery barrage coming.”

  Letting the binoculars drop onto his chest, Stan sprinted for his tank.

  For the next ten minutes, the Jeffersons endured Chinese artillery. The defensive net with 30mm and beehive flechettes proved their worth, knocking down most of the enemy shells that might have hurt the tanks. Still, the division didn’t get away unscathed. Two tanks were disabled, although the crews survived, sustaining one broken arm.

  Stan had deliberately withheld his divisional counterbattery fire. He didn’t know if that convinced his counterpart over there. Possibly.

  Soon, his scouts informed him that two Chinese infantry divisions had started toward his location on foot.

  “No trucks?” Stan asked over the radio.

  “Negative, sir,” the recon captain said.

  “Can you remain hidden?”

  “That’s doubtful, sir.”

  “Then retreat,” Stan said. “You’ve done enough.”

  A few minutes later, the XO came online. “General, Franks has spotted hovercraft.”

  “On the reservoir?” Stan asked.

  “How did you know they’d try something like that?” the XO asked.

  “A hunch, I suppose. More like luck.”

  “No, General. I’m not buying that. You’ve set us up as bait, hoping the hovers would do exactly that.”

  “You win one every once in a while.”

  The XO snorted. “If this works—”

  “Don’t jinx us,” Stan said. “Wait until it’s over.”

  The hovers came all right, two hundred and twenty-three machines. Stan figured that must represent two Chinese brigades worth.

  “The hovercrafts are swinging wide, sir.”

  “I can see that,” Stan said. He sat inside his command Jefferson, watching the various screens.

  “Are you thinking to use our artillery on them?” the XO asked by radio.

  “Not a chance,” Stan said. “I want the enemy infantry divisions sprinting here before I let the other side know how much artillery we really have left.”

  “Will you use the Cherokees against the hovers?”

  “No,” Stan said. “We’re going to fire the Jeffersons’ long-range penetrators.”

  “The hovers will likely knock them down with antishell defenses.”

  “Not if we fire in truly dense volleys and use a little artillery. Let’s get started. I want half the tanks lined up on shore.”

  One hundred Jeffersons roared into life. Now, perhaps, they showed their true nimbleness. Soon, the shoreline glittered with American tanks. The cannons lifted for long-range fire, and the newest penetrators thundered from the 175mm cannons. At the same time, artillery shells pounded them.

  The XO proved right about one thing. The Chinese hovers put up a solid defensive barrage of 25mm autocannon fire with computer-directed heavy machine guns. Many American rounds never reached the hovers. The shells were knocked down or deflected before they could test hover armor. Some did reach the enemy craft, however. The light armor proved inefficient against the sabot rounds, and Chinese vehicles blasted apart or flipped over and began to sink.

  “Keep pouring it on,” Stan said.

  “We’re not going to have enough ammo left to deal with the Chinese tanks,” the XO said. “Our supply—”

  “Let me worry about that,” Stan said. “Sink those hovers. Those are the real danger to our supply lines. This is a crazy place to use them. Let’s make them pay for their mistake.”

  The Chinese lost over half their hovers before the fast machines began curving back, retreating.

  “Now’s where we demolish them,” Stan said. “Their defensive fire will be much less because they have fewer machines.”

  “Our rounds are dwindling fast, General.”

  “We’re killing the hovers now!” Stan shouted.

  General Higgins proved correct: only one in five hovers made it back to their side. He used some artillery to try to get those, and killed a few more. Altogether, it proved a stunning victory.

  “Those infantry divisions are close,” the XO radioed.

  “Exactly,” Stan said.

  Stan Higgins had an idea. He didn’t believe the two infantry divisions would have much antitank weaponry, but mainly small arms. The next hour showed the Chinese how deadly the Jefferson tanks were against infantry. The American MBTs massed and attacked.

  With their beehive flechettes and antipersonnel rounds, the Jeffersons murdered thousands of Chinese soldiers. Finally, the enemy broke and ran. Once again, his calculated decision proved correct.

  “Unleash the artillery on them,” Stan said. “Let’s finish this.”

  “Don’t you have any mercy?” the XO asked.

  “Not here, not today,” Stan said. “They invaded us first. I mean to finish this war with an American strategic victory.”

  “By the way,” the XO said, “we’re low on antitank
rounds.”

  “Well take the risk and remain here to deal death.”

  The artillery rained on the retreating Chinese infantry. The Jeffersons together with the artillery decimated them. The waiting division of Type 99 tanks kept Stan from capturing the survivors, though. If this had been the first blitzkrieg phase of the invasion, those tanks wouldn’t have been waiting there as a final enemy reserve.

  That’s the difference, Stan told himself. We’re still demolishing them. But we’re unable to exploit our victories to maximum advantage.

  If they were going to conquer China, they had to find a way to return to capturing tens of thousands of enemy personnel after each victory.

  BIANGANGXIANG, JILIN PROVINCE

  Once again, Jake’s battalion found itself cooperating with tanks. It was July 13 and the weather had turned unbearably hot. They attempted to clear the G1 Highway as the US army group surged toward Changchun.

  Enemy soldiers from Xing’s Twelfth Army blocked the advance, defending in a forest to the southeast of Biangangxiang.

  Since early this morning, Jake had been in the line of battle, waiting for the tanks to finish their job before the company attacked.

  Jake had kept his eyes open. As a former Behemoth leader, he appreciated the current tank tactics. Once the armor arrived at the enemy position, the squadrons spread out fanwise, outflanking and encircling the Chinese. With a pincer movement, the tanks slowly closed up again. In this way, they forced the enemy into a progressively smaller area.

  At that point, the infantry went over to the attack, methodically clearing the enemy zone…

  In front of Jake were the woods and a few broken-down shacks from which came the violent banging of RPGs.

  The company captain shouted at them, giving each lieutenant his objective. Wans’ platoon would attack the nearest huts as the others hit the forest.

  Jake ran half bent, with the rest of his squad behind him. Wans deployed them in an arc, and everyone went forward without too much difficulty.

  The other platoons had already reached the tree line. Incendiary grenades started fires as branches and thousands of leaves began to blaze.

  The Chinese in the woods blasted away as if they had great mounds of ammunition at their disposal.

  Then shells screeched, slamming against the ground and exploding with a sickening din. It felt as if giants dug their spades into the ground and threw dirt and clods everywhere.

  “Are those from our guns or the Chinese?” Chet shouted from the ground.

  Whoever owned them, fragments of shell hit seven Americans. This time, the body armor proved ineffective.

  More shells plowed the ground. Mud rained down on Jake’s helmet, tossed up by the explosions. His face was buried in the earth.

  “Get up!” Grant shouted. He’d lost an ear and blood covered the side of his face. “We can’t stay here.”

  Jake knew he right. He scrambled to his feet. So did Chet. They sprinted through the belt of death, flattening themselves every twenty feet. More Americans lay dead on the soil, cut to pieces by jagged shrapnel.

  One wounded man missing his legs crawled for the rear ranks. He shouted hoarsely for a medic.

  Jake got up again, running. He and Chet reached the first houses. Their assault guns chattered. Incendiary grenades flew. The roofs burst into flames.

  Chinese dashed out, yelling. One of them burned nicely. The soldier rolled on the ground, screaming in agony.

  Red rage washed over Jake. He fired into the Chinese. So did others, including Chet and Grant. Jake reloaded, fired and reloaded once more. Everyone hurled grenades into the huts. Roofs collapsed and sparks billowed.

  Through the smoke, Jake spied green shadows. Some of the enemy tried to escape through the woods.

  He knelt, sighted and fired magazine after magazine. Each time a shadow flew onto the ground bought a grim sense of satisfaction to him.

  The rest of the day turned into a hug mopping up operation. Jake, Chet and Grant swept the thickets and clearings, hunting with everyone else for Chinese soldiers. Many emerged with their hands on their heads. Battalion sent them off to waiting trucks. The Chinese would swell the numbers of growing POW camps.

  From Military History: Past to Present, by Vance Holbrook:

  The Invasion of Manchuria, 2042

  2042, June 9-July 15. The Approach to Changchun. The Russian 9th Army Group spread out through the Gobi Desert to reach the Khingan Mountain Range. Russian and German antiair units thickened, providing air cover while the logisticians laid down roads to aid the beginning of a vast movement of supply near the southern Khingan Mountains. During this time, the Manchurian-based Russian and American army groups strode toward Changchun. Both the defenders and attackers lacked their former air assets, as constant warfare destroyed the expensive fighters, bombers and drones.

  At this point, Hong finally unleashed the overseas units, having transferred them back to China. At the same time, Russian and American commanders appealed home for more of everything. The Allies advanced almost everywhere without halt, paying in blood but more in wear and tear. The offensive tip of their armies had weakened considerably since the beginning of the invasion. Too many units now garrisoned hostile cities or guarded the supply routes. The only Chinese victory came in the Changbai Mountains. The Russian assault out of Vladivostok halted before they could reach the Tumen River Valley. Marshal Timoshenko finally admitted defeat and retreated toward Vladivostok.

  WASHINGTON, DC

  Anna Chen wore a red hat, sunglasses, a white blouse and skirt as she shopped at Macys. A red purse dangled from her left arm. She examined a pair of dress jeans, luxuriating in being out in public for once.

  Most of time she stayed with David Sims. At the director’s orders, the President remained drugged. Because of it, David had grown thinner than ever. Finally, she had prevailed on the doctors, who convinced Harold to let David wake up now and again. She spoke to David then, trying to cheer him up. Today, she looked for the perfect outfit to show him next time.

  A small old man in a black Berkshire hat with a feather sticking up from it cleared his throat. He used a cane, his arm trembling from seeming exhaustion. Clearing his throat again, the man appeared to want to walk where Anna stood. She squeezed aside, but he didn’t move, the ornery old man.

  “I’m going to leave a chip in these pants,” the old man said in the clear voice of Doctor Levin.

  Just barely, Anna kept herself from staring at him.

  “Look somewhere else,” he said.

  Anna did just that. She’d never realized that Levin could playact as he did.

  “I used to be a young man once,” Levin whispered, as if reading her mind. “In those days, I was a case officer and needed to resort to these sorts of antics.”

  “Militia operatives are watching me,” Anna whispered, as she kept her mouth aimed down.

  “I’m well aware of that, my dear. Is the President still alive?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he still drugged?”

  “Yes,” Anna said.

  “After I leave, take the chip and study it later.”

  Anna wasn’t sure Levin would understand her next words. He had gone to great lengths and danger to do this. She hated to disappoint him…but she had a higher propose now.

  “I’m not interested in conspiracies against Director Harold,” she said.

  She half-expected Levin to leave. Instead, he said, “Once you read the transcript, destroy the chip. I’ll contact you when it’s time.”

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Of course, my dear,” Levin said. “I simply don’t believe you. Your President dies unless you help me.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Please, Anna. You’re a smart woman. Harold needs David for now. But he won’t always need him. In fact, after a certain point, the President becomes a dangerous liability for Harold.”

  Deep in her heart, Anna knew that. It just seemed so impossible
to fight all of Homeland Security and the Militia Organization. The CIA didn’t stand a chance.

  “Anna?” Levin asked.

  “You said you’d contact me when it’s time. Time for what?” she asked.

  There was no answer, but she heard the scuffle of shoes and a tapping cane. She didn’t look up, but she continued to examine a pair of orange pants. Finally, she moved back to where she’d been and now looked up. The director of the CIA was gone. Her arms felt weak and lifeless. She didn’t want to do this.

  You don’t have to, you know. You can walk away. Yet what if Levin is right? Does Harold plan to murder David?

  Anna jeered herself then as a coward and a fool. Harold kept the President drugged. She had to act. She had to help Levin and whoever worked with him.

  Over time, she examined another pair of pants. There she found the chip.

  Should I really do this?

  She knew the answer. Without glancing around, she secreted the chip in her purse, slipping it into her change slot, and she bought the dress jeans.

  The Militia operatives trailing her must not have suspected anything. She went home. Her room was several over from David’s sweet. Anna knew very well that her house was bugged. They also monitored her with cameras, the creeps. She felt their stares every time she showered. So she waited.

  Finally, late at night, when she pulled the blankets over her, she took out a tablet she’d put under her pillow. Like a little kid, she slid the chip into the computer. Under the covers, she began to read Levin’s transcript of a meeting between the three dictators—Harold, Alan, McGraw—and several other high-ranking government people.

  ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA (TRANSCRIPT)

  15 July 2042

  Strategic Conference, 1.12 P.M.

  Participants: Harold, Alan, McGraw, Levin, Caliato (Director of Industry), O’Hara (Admiral, Pacific Fleet), Danner (Air Marshal, US Strategic Command).

  Transcript #1

  HAROLD: We’re all extremely busy, I realize, but we’re going to have to come to a decision on this. The Chinese people have not risen up in moral outrage against Chairman Hong’s tyranny as we’d hoped they might. Even more important, the Chinese Army and Secret Police continue to support him. Perhaps most amazing of all, even though the Chinese have removed their garrisons from Japan, the Philippines and Indonesia, those nations continue to remain loyal to the Pan-Asian Alliance.