by James Rosone
Sanchez pulled a set of corporal chevrons out of his pocket and stood. He handed them over to Private Webster, saying, “Shane, for a newbie private, you seem to have your head screwed on right, and the guys in the squad seem to like and respect you. I’m promoting you to corporal. You’re going to be in charge of our heavy machine-gun crew. Congrats.”
The rest of the squad congratulated him—everyone except Nathan, who obviously felt he should have been promoted. Sure, a specialist and corporal shared the same paygrade, but a corporal was a junior NCO, and therefore carried command authority, similar to a sergeant.
*******
Two hours later, the platoon stood in a loose formation with the rest of the company as they waited for their CO to come out and give them a short brief before they would be dismissed for the night. The next day would be busy.
Captain Joel Garcia walked up to his first sergeant, saluted him and called the company to at ease. “Listen up, everyone!” he shouted. “The 2-14 infantry is moving to the front lines tomorrow. The entire division is gearing up to assault that mountain.” He gestured toward the fortress that was still getting pounded by air and artillery.
“Beyond that fortress, gentlemen, is a clear shot to Beijing. We punch our way through it and our tanks will lead the rest of the way. We’re going to form up at 0400 hours, when we’ll road march our way to the front. It’s approximately eight kilometers to our new base camp. Once there, we’ll find out when they’re going to order us up the mountain. As of right now, our forces have secured the lower portion of the mountain. It’s going to be our division’s turn to finish rolling the enemy up and finally break through this mountain fortress.
“I’m not going to lie to you all and say this’ll be an easy fight. It won’t. A lot of you guys are probably going to get injured or killed. But know this: once we capture this fortress, we’re one step closer to defeating the PLA and ending this war. I want everyone to do their best and take care of each other. You see the enemy, you kill him…I’m going to turn you back over to Top now.”
He called the company to attention and then turned them over to the first sergeant, who issued a few other orders before he dismissed them for the evening to get some sleep.
*******
Boom! Boom! Bam!
Ratatat, ratatat, zip, zip, zap…
“Take that bunker out!” Sergeant Sanchez shouted over the roar of explosions and machine-gun fire.
Specialist Ryle ducked just as a string of bullets hit a tree stump he was using for cover. He pulled his ruck off his back and unstrapped the AT4 he was carrying. He made sure the rocket was ready to fire and then called out for covering fire.
Private Miller popped up from behind the boulder he had been hiding behind and let loose a string of 7.62mm rounds at the cement machine-gun bunker that was shooting at them. The face of that bunker was dimpled with pock marks from all the shrapnel and machine-gun bullets that had hit it.
Ryle saw this as his moment and jumped up with the AT4 on his shoulder, ready to go. He took quick aim and depressed the firing button.
Pop, whooosssshhh…BAM.
The rocket flew fast and slammed right into the bunker, just next to the machine gun. A ton of sparks flew out in all directions, and the gun fell silent.
“Charge that bunker now! Get some grenades in it!” screamed Sergeant Jacobson, the assistant squad leader. He jumped up and ran toward the bunker, firing his weapon at the gun slits and screaming like a madman.
Webster looked over to his friend, Miller. “Let’s go,” Miller said as he lurched forward around the boulder they had been hiding behind.
Webster struggled briefly as he tried to catch up to Jacobson, who was nearly to the edge of the bunker. Specialist Ryle was hot on his heels when suddenly the machine-gun bunker returned to life and resumed its killing spree. Ryle was hit multiple times in his chest as he fell backwards, each slug acting like a punch to his chest.
Jacobson ducked to his right just as a string of rounds flew right past where he had just been. Webster ducked to the left behind a large tree stump, maybe ten meters away from the bunker. Looking at Sergeant Jacobson, he saw him signal that he was going to use his M203 grenade launcher on the bunker. “Once I fire it, you charge forward!” he yelled.
Webster nodded as he readied himself to cross the remaining ten meters to the enemy position.
Thump, BOOM.
Webster jumped out from his covered position and ran for all his worth toward the bunker. He jumped past Specialist Ryle, who was still lying on his back, pleading for someone to help him. In seconds, Webster found himself flush with the side of the bunker. He waved to the others below him that he had made it and then grabbed one of his grenades from his vest. He inched around to the front of the bunker and got to just beneath the gun slit. The machine gun was still firing away at his comrades below. He pulled the pin, counted to two, and then shoved the grenade through the gun slit. He felt the grenade fall inside the bunker and heard a lot of frantic yelling before a loud blast assaulted his ears and vibrated the ground around him.
Not trusting the one grenade to do the job, Webster pulled the pin on a second grenade and dropped it in the same slit. A second later, another boom rang out, only this time, there were no more voices to be heard. At this point, several other soldiers ran forward toward Webster and joined him at the bunker.
“How do we get inside this thing?” asked one of the guys who’d joined them.
The bunker had been built into the mountain, so it was tied to a series of tunnels and rooms from the inside. Sergeant Jacobson crawled around the right side of the bunker until he was on top of it. Once there, he noticed a steel hatch on the top.
“In here, guys.”
Several of the soldiers crawled around to join him on top of the bunker and saw what he saw. While they were still figuring out how to get inside, the next layer of bunkers several hundred meters higher up the mountain began shooting down on them. They scrambled down the sides and sought cover from the incoming bullets. By now, the entire squad had made its way to their position and had taken cover around them. Specialist Ryle was being treated by one of the medics as a couple of soldiers helped to escort him back to one of the aid stations.
Lieutenant Fallon crawled up to Sergeant Sanchez. “Any thoughts on how we get inside?” he asked. “I’ll bet this thing connects to other rooms and bunkers inside the mountain. It could be our ticket to clearing them out.”
Sanchez poked his head back up to look at the hatch again. “If we had some C-4 or det cord, we could probably get this hatch open,” he answered. “Do you think we could call someone over who might have some? Hey, also—before we do that, we need to get those two bunkers up there taken out, or they’re just going to keep shooting at us.”
The lieutenant nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Let me see if I can get the rest of the company to head our way and try to take them out.”
Fallon sat down below the lip of the bunker and called for an engineer to come up to their position, so they could inform Captain Garcia of what they’d found. Meanwhile, the other platoons pushed past them as they continued to engage the other enemy bunkers further up the mountain.
Boom, boom, ratatat, ratatat, zip, zip, zap!
Bullets flew all around them as they waited for an engineer and their captain to arrive. Explosions rocked the mountain as the other companies and units did their best to root out the enemy, one bunker and fighting position at a time.
Eventually, Captain Garcia trudged up to them with a couple of soldiers in tow. Two of them were engineers. When they got to the bunker, Sanchez explained to them what they needed done, and the two engineers examined the steel hatch.
“Let’s try the det cord first,” suggested the first engineer.
“Yeah, and if that fails, we’ll go for the C-4,” the other countered.
A few minutes went by as the engineers pressed the det cord into the cracks and crevices of the hatch until it was neatly p
acked in, despite the bullets that were snapping all around them while they worked. Once the engineers had done their work, the group moved away from the bunker as they prepared to blow it.
BOOM!
As the dust from the explosion settled, several of the soldiers ran to the top of the bunker to inspect the hatch. To their satisfaction, they found it now accessible.
Sanchez turned to the engineers. “Could you stick around?” he asked. “We may need you to blow open some additional doors once we get inside.”
The engineers nodded and smiled. They clearly enjoyed it when explosives were a part of their day.
One by one, the members of Second Squad filtered into the bunker. They fanned out as they moved their way to a rear door, lining up against the walls as they approached it. When they reached the door, they tested it and found that it was unlocked.
Sanchez held his hand up. “Stand by and wait,” he ordered.
Stepping over several dead Chinese soldiers, Sanchez climbed out of the hatch. He found the lieutenant and the captain. “There’s a door at the other end of the bunker,” he said. “We’ve tested it, and it’s unlocked. We didn’t open it yet, since we’re not sure if its boobytrapped, but I wanted to see if we could get the rest of the platoon or even the company to work with us on clearing it out. Who knows? It might link up to other rooms or levels inside the fortress. If we clear it out, we might be able to silence a lot of these really tough machine-gun bunkers.”
Captain Garcia thought about that for a second and then nodded. “OK, Sergeant,” he responded. “Lieutenant Fallon, I want your platoon to work on exploring and clearing the tunnels out. I’m going to place a call back to battalion and let them know what we’ve found. I’ll see if we can’t get a couple of flamethrowers sent over here to help you guys clear them out. God only knows what’s inside. I also want to get the rest of the company in on this. You guys just might have found the chink in the armor of this fortress.”
Nodding, the lieutenant signaled for Sanchez to lead the way. The two of them crawled back down into the main gun room. Several of the soldiers had picked the dead Chinese bodies up and stacked them in a pile along one of the walls, out of the way. The rest of the squad was lined up on both sides of the door, ready to go.
Sanchez nodded to Webster to open the door and peer into what lay beyond it. Slowly at first, Corporal Webster opened the door. Small lights had been affixed to the walls of the tunnel every twenty feet or so, dimly lighting the space. The tunnels were like hallways, wide enough for at least two soldiers to walk side by side. They could hear the chattering of machine guns and the occasional voice yelling in Chinese, but the noises were faint, off in the distance.
Webster made his way into the hallway and signaled for the others to follow. One of the fire teams turned right and followed the hallway up a gentle incline, while the group that went left followed the hallway down to the lower levels. Both fire teams made their way further into the fortress to see what they could find. By now, the next squad of soldiers had filtered in and was moving to back them up as well. Slow and steadily, they were advancing further into the mountain fortress.
Even inside the tunnels, Sergeant Sanchez could still hear and often feel the explosions taking place outside. He also heard the chattering of machine guns, though they were softer, muffled by all the rock between them and the outdoors.
After moving maybe five more meters into the mountain, they came to an entrance that opened up into a large cavern. Corporal Webster signaled for everyone to stop and dropped down to one knee. The others did likewise.
Sergeant Sanchez made his way up to him. “What do we have, Webster?” he asked.
Webster leaned in and whispered, “I think we found the ammo depot. It looks like these guys are sorting ammo onto those pushcarts to run them over to different bunkers.” He waved his hand forward.
Peering into the spacious room, Sanchez saw at once what Webster had described. The storage facility there had to be at least twenty meters high, roughly one hundred meters in length and fifty meters in width. While it was dark toward the edges and in the tunnels that connected to the main room, there were at least eight or ten overhead lights. On one side of the cavernous room was a table with four PLA soldiers manning several radios and an old-fashioned phone switchboard. Next to them was a series of maps with different color codes on them.
The adjacent wall had a row of maybe twenty cots set up, with wounded soldiers laid out on them. PLA doctors or medics tended to them, and nearby was a military ambulance. The wounded were being loaded onto it, presumably to be taken either deeper in the mountain or out of it altogether. The vehicle was angled toward a tunnel with a sign written in Chinese that probably said exit, since there was one other opening maybe thirty meters to the left with the same sign, large enough for a truck.
In the center of the room, dozens of PLA soldiers loaded crates of ammunition onto pushcarts, which were then rushed off down a different hallway, presumably to another gun bunker. Another set of soldiers were loading crates of ammo onto an elevator pulley that would bring additional ammo to another layer of bunkers somewhere above them.
Sergeant Sanchez then heard an approaching truck engine and froze. A pair of headlights crept closer to their position from that second tunnel. Sanchez’s heart raced as the noise grew louder and the lights brighter, but the truck stopped. Without seeming to notice any of the Americans, a half dozen soldiers got out and proceeded to help offload more crates of ammo.
Sanchez had seen enough. He knew they didn’t have enough soldiers to take this group on, and if they were going to capitalize on this find, they needed to get the rest of the platoon, or better yet, the company over here.
“We could send squads of soldiers down those tunnels and silence the machine-gun bunkers all over this mountain fortress,” he thought.
“Webster, let’s fall back a bit and hold our position,” he whispered. “We need more troops to take ‘em out.” Webster nodded and scooted back a bit. Sanchez doubled back to go find their lieutenant.
Five minutes went by before Sanchez returned with Lieutenant Fallon and Captain Garcia, who’d brought a platoon and a half of soldiers with them. Captain Garcia sent the other half of the company with the XO down the other tunnel.
Captain Garcia huddled with Sergeant Sanchez further back down the hall. “I talked with battalion before I came in the tunnel,” he explained. “They’re sending another company of soldiers to help us clear this out. They want a report as soon as we know how big this place is.”
“Sir, if I may, when we enter this room, we’re going to have to clear it quickly,” Sanchez rationalized. “I have no idea if they have an internal alarm system. Once we’re in, I suggest we send squads of soldiers down the smaller tunnels, as those most likely lead to other gun bunkers. We can take them out quickly, which will hopefully help our guys on the outside out. But if we’re going to try and go down those two vehicle tunnels, I think we’re going to need a lot more guys. We have no idea how many other soldiers are down them. They might even lead all the way out to the other side of the mountain.”
The captain nodded. “Lead the way, Sergeant.”
A few minutes went by; they went over each squad’s lane of fire and where they were going to move once the shooting started. With everyone briefed, they were ready to execute.
Corporal Webster was the first soldier to emerge from the shadows of the tunnel. He charged forward, suddenly materializing from the darkness. The first enemy soldier to see him froze in sudden panic at the sight of an American soldier inside their fortress. Webster pulled the trigger once, hitting the soldier squarely in the forehead before he could even react. The man dropped like a sack of potatoes, his body resting in a pile of brain matter.
With the first gunshot fired, the element of surprise was over. Both squads of soldiers systematically shot everyone they saw in the cavernous room while doing their best to filter into the entrance as quickly as possible. More an
d more soldiers ran into the room to join their comrades.
The shooting inside the large room was intense. Nearly a hundred soldiers on both sides fought to the death in the confined space. With speed on their side, the Americans overwhelmed the defenders.
“Webster! Take your fire team and head down that tunnel,” Staff Sergeant Sanchez shouted. He pointed to one of the newly-arrived soldiers and ordered, “Take him with you.”
Webster nodded, and the newbie and one of his buddies ran over to join him.
“I was told you guys needed a flamethrower,” the young kid said with a wicked smile on his face.
Webster and the other soldiers looked at the two of them with fear and awe. While they had watched the vintage Vietnam-era M9-7 flamethrower being used off in the distance, none of them had ever seen one of them up close, let alone had one of them assigned to their squad.
“Yeah, I guess we do,” said Webster with a chuckle. “OK, let’s go. We need to move quickly down the tunnel. We have no idea if they just heard this shoot-out or what.” Looking at his two new guys, Webster added, “I want you guys in the rear. When we need you, we’ll call you forward.”
The two guys nodded, not at all put out that they were bringing up the rear. God forbid they should be near the front during a shoot-out; if their fuel tank got hit, it would blow up, possibly wiping out the whole fire team.
Moving down the tunnel, Webster kept his rifle up and ready. About twenty meters in, they reached the first bend. Corporal Webster stopped and pulled a small pocket mirror out of his pocket. He let his rifle hang from his single-point sling and grabbed the bayonet from its sheath.
“What’re you doing, Rambo?” chided one of the soldiers behind him.
Turning to look back at the soldiers behind him, Webster held a lone finger to his mouth. “Shhhh, I saw this in a movie. I’m going to make sure no one else is around that corner.”
Taking the gum out of his mouth, Webster attached it to the back of his mirror and then affixed the gooey mixture to his knife. He dropped down to his knee and slid the setup past the corner to give him a better angle on what was down there waiting for them.
