by James Rosone
The immediate threat neutralized, Sergeant Evans looked around the island and realized for the first time what an amazing view he and his men had there of the island and the port. A few columns of black smoke were rising from the location of the battle, but otherwise, it looked like the island was peaceful.
Evans nodded to himself; his Marines had survived yet another battle and accomplished their goal. Now would come the fun part, making sure the road and rail bridges connecting the island with the mainland weren’t wired with explosives or sabotaged. The Navy would be sailing in their ships to start offloading their armored chariots soon enough.
Chapter 17
Operation Gladiator
180 Kilometers West of Yangshan Harbor
Suzhou Guangfu Airport
Brigadier General Sir Nick McCoil had an uneasy feeling in his gut about this mission. On paper it looked superb—a large airfield that jutted out on a small peninsula, easily defendable and ripe for the taking. Suzhou Guangfu Airport was a PLA Air Force base several kilometers west of the city of Suzhou and a kilometer away from Taihu Lake. It had very few approachable angles from the nearby city, and it also boasted a small, higher-elevated ridgeline to the east and north of the airfield, adding to the defensible terrain nearby. However, what General McCoil disliked about this mission was how deep behind enemy lines it would place them.
The plan called for them to capture the base and ready it for Allied use. His airborne force would be required to hold the base and the surrounding territory until the rest of the British and French forces were offloaded at the Yangshan port, 180 kilometers away. Once the tanks and other armored vehicles were ashore, they’d be able to cross the distance in three or four hours and link up with them. At most, his brigade was being asked to hold the position for seventy-two hours.
To augment his brigade, a regiment of French Foreign Legionnaires would be joining them. He hoped having 1,200 zealot-like warriors in addition to his own brigade would bring them luck. The trick to making this jump work was logistics. The Air Force and Navy had to clear a path through the PLA’s surface-to-air missile network. Once that had been achieved, eighty-four British and French Transall C-160 and A400M Atlas transport planes would fly in at varying intervals and begin to offload his brigade and the Legionnaires.
The first units to land would be his pathfinder platoon, a company from the 1st Royal Gurkhas Regiment, or 1RGR, along with most of 2 PARA. While this main force was dropping on the enemy airbase, the regiment of Legionnaires would land at Shangshengcun, three kilometers southeast of the airbase, to set up a blocking position along the main highway at Xiangshanzui. That would effectively isolate the entire southeastern half of the little peninsula the airfield sat on. His company of Gurkhas would advance to the top of the ridgeline at Jiaoli and begin to prepare it for when the rest of 1 RGR arrived in the second wave. The Gurkha battalion would have a several-kilometer vantage point of the surrounding area, giving his brigade plenty of time to spot any enemy formations heading toward them. It would also be one of the first locations the PLA would have to secure if they wanted to recapture the air base.
The second wave of aircraft would be much larger and arrive ninety minutes after the first. This wave would bring with them rest of 3 PARA and the three batteries of 7 Para RHA, giving his brigade eighteen 105mm howitzers for fire support. Three hours after the second wave was scheduled to land, the third wave would bring in the remainder of the brigade along with several air drops of ammunition. Two hours after that, a string of ten American C-17 Globemasters would complete the sortie by drag-dropping ten fully loaded Panhard ERC armored cars on the runway. These French-made 6x6 vehicles packed 90mm main guns, which would act as their light armor support until the main British Army showed up. If the air lanes were still clear, then eighteen hours later, his air taxis would return to offload additional munitions, retrieve his wounded and offload twenty Jackal 4x4 vehicles.
This was by far the riskiest jump any British or French forces had made in the war, and perhaps in their history. The head of British forces in Asia had convinced General Bennet that the mission not only was possible to achieve but would give the Allies a much-needed air and artillery base deep behind enemy lines, with natural barriers for defense. With the sales pitch already made and approved many months ago, it was now incumbent upon General McCoil to execute the plan. Operation Gladiator was a go.
*******
Corporal Jordan Wright had joined the Army at the outbreak of war with Russia. Never in a million years could he have imagined that nearly two years later, he would be jumping out of an airplane, invading the People’s Republic of China. After all the political hoopla going on back home, he and his mates were just glad to be soldiering again and doing what they did best, fight.
The men around him had their faces painted for war and were ready to get the show on the road. Wright was eager too, even if hours of sitting in the back of the A400M Atlas was making his backside hurt like never before.
“Everyone up! It’s time to get ready,” shouted Lieutenant Lou Shay. The platoon sergeant stood next to him and though he didn’t say anything, his look implied that the guys better get a move on fast.
The paratroopers grumbled a little at being roused from their slumber, but at the same time, they were also excited to finally be doing something, anything that would get the blood flowing again to their lower extremities.
Once they started moving, Lieutenant Shay announced, “We’re twenty minutes out! Run through your equipment checks and make sure you’re ready.”
Even though the battalion had seen plenty of combat in Ukraine and Russia already, for many of them, this would be their first combat jump. Corporal Wright looked at the green members with a sort of kind pity; the first one was always a bit unnerving. Here they were flying in the back of a cargo plane, hundreds of kilometers behind enemy lines, hoping the American Air Force and Navy planes had successfully suppressed or destroyed the enemy’s surface-to-air missile systems…and they all knew that SAMs had already cost the Allies dearly in Russia.
Five minutes away from the drop zone, an urgent voice from the front of the plane called out for the lieutenant. He trotted quickly past Corporal Wright, muttering something under his breath as he made his way to the front. Wright watched as the lieutenant poked his head into the cabin. He couldn’t hear what the pilot was exclaiming, but clearly, he was worked up about something. Shay turned to look back at his men, his face as white as a ghost.
“Oh, this isn’t good,” Wright realized.
The lieutenant walked back and faced his platoon. “Quiet down, men!” he shouted. “I have some news to report. The pilots just told me our fighter plane escorts are engaging some enemy fighters in the nearby area. They also told me the aircraft carrying the pathfinder platoon came under heavy enemy ground fire on their drop near the airbase.”
A loud murmur started, and Lieutenant Shay quickly raised his hands in a gesture to try and get everyone to calm down. When they didn’t quiet themselves, he shouted, “Shut up! I’m not done talking yet!
“The pilot said one of the German planes escorting us is currently trying to silence the enemy antiaircraft guns at the airfield. Regardless of whether the Germans are successful or not, we are still jumping! We’re 2 PARA! Ready for anything!” Shay shouted the unit’s motto to try to rile up their spirits.
“He knows we’re jumping into a storm and there’s nothing he can do about it,” Wright realized. At least they could try to make the best of it.
As the lieutenant made his way back to his position near the rear door and his platoon sergeant, Corporal Wright grabbed his arm gently and leaned in. “Damn good speech, Sir. Thank you for giving us the heads-up.”
Shay paused for a second, searching Wright’s expression. “Thanks, Corporal. I’m counting on you and your squad,” he replied. He patted him on the shoulder and then continued down the line of men that made up his platoon.
Turning to the man next to
him, Wright said, “Shay’s a fine officer, Flowers.”
Private Nigel Flowers shrugged. “If you say so, Corporal.”
“You know his family’s rich—and I don’t mean well off, I mean like filthy rich, right? Like billionaire rich. He put all of that aside and joined the Army when the war started with Russia. He’s kind of like me. I was a program manager at Google. I was pulling down £160,000 a year before I joined 2 PARA. Of course, my wife nearly divorced me, but now she thinks I look sexy as hell in my uniform with my beret,” Wright added with a wry grin.
Flowers stopped fiddling with part of his gear to look at Wright. “You mean to tell me our lieutenant is rich beyond belief and he put all of that aside to join the 2 PARA? And you gave up a job at Google making more than I’ve made in my entire life up to this point to join the military? You two are both crazy. Me…I got drafted.”
Corporal Wright had taken a liking to Private Flowers. He reminded him of his little brother who had died his senior year of secondary school from cancer. Ever since Wright had been promoted to corporal, he had kept Flowers near him, under his wing so to speak, and the two had been inseparable ever since.
“Hey, Nigel, I didn’t quit Google, I just took a military leave of absence,” Wright said with a smirk. “And like I said before, when this war is over and we all get out of the Army, I’ll get you a gig working on my team at Google. You keep sticking with me, Nigel, and I’ll look out for you.”
Nigel smiled and shook his head. “You’re a class act, Wright. I’m sure glad you left Google to be a part of this; I never would have met you otherwise. I told my mum all about you and how you’ve been looking out for me—she thinks it right nice of you.”
Before either of them could say anything more, the plane banked hard to the right, nearly throwing them all off their feet. While they were trying to catch their balance, a loud explosion overwhelmed their senses, causing them to instinctively guard their ears. Then the plane jostled in the air, like they had hit some bad turbulence. With their hands occupied, several soldiers actually fell over; they scrambled to quickly right themselves.
“Stand by to jump!” shouted the lieutenant. One of the crew chiefs pulled the side door to the aircraft open.
Wright caught the first glimpse of what was happening outside. Strings of green tracers appeared to be flying in all directions, intermixed with small little puffs of black smoke.
Plunk, plunk, crack, crack.
Without warning, several new holes appeared on the walls of the aircraft. One of the men in Second Squad dropped to the floor limp, while another soldier grabbed at his leg and screamed in excruciating pain. Then the crew chief grabbed the lieutenant’s arm and yelled, “Get your men off the plane!”
The lieutenant nodded, but he was obviously worried about his two guys who had just been hit. The jump lights turned green. Without further prodding, the jumpmasters next to the door yelled at the soldiers who had lined up. One by one, the soldiers moved quickly down the line toward the exit. When Corporal Wright made it to the door, he paused for less than a second before launching himself off the aircraft.
Gravity took over. The wind buffeted his face and body, caressing it like a long-lost lover. His chute opened and jerked him hard as it fought against gravity’s inviting pull, slowing his descent in seconds. He looked down at his feet dangling in the air. His ruck was still attached to his drop cord, where it should be. He began to take in his surroundings. At the top of the ridge he and the other Gurkhas were supposed to capture, he spotted the radar station. Nearby, there were at least five Type 85 twin-barrel 23mm antiaircraft guns, firing away at the planes delivering the paratroopers as well as the men dangling from their chutes.
Green tracers from the enemy guns continued to crisscross the morning sky as more and more parachutes opened all around him. It was now a matter of getting enough soldiers on the ground so they could neutralize the threats for the follow-on waves.
He also spotted what appeared to be a four-engine plane, maybe a C-130 cargo plane, that had crashed a couple of kilometers away from the airfield. The thick black smoke added to the surreal scene below him. Closer to the airfield, he spotted several buildings on fire, smoke billowing out of them. On the parking ramp, a few destroyed aircraft were scattered about, and what appeared to be a Eurofighter was burning near the end of the runway.
“That German fighter was probably trying to take some of these antiaircraft guns out,” Wright thought, sad that they hadn’t succeeded in eliminating more of the incoming threats.
Corporal Wright looked ahead where the wind was leading him, to an empty field at the southwestern side of the runway. An orange X had been painted there, and a red smoke signal puffed away.
“At least the landing site hasn’t been destroyed,” Wright mused.
Pulling on the navigation cords of his chute, he angled his chute in that general direction. He suspected the rest of his platoon was doing the same.
To his right and on the opposite end of the runway was another orange X with a purple smoke signal, indicating another safe landing place for those who were closer to that location. Half a kilometer to the east, nestled between two housing complex areas, was another large field also marked by an orange X and a yellow smoke grenade. Clusters of paratroopers circled toward each of the three drop zones the pathfinders had established.
“There were supposed to be two more drop zones,” Corporal Wright thought. Things were really not going according to plan so far.
Once Wright was closer to the ground, he could make out dozens of small figures running toward the DZ from the main buildings of the airfield that hadn’t been destroyed. As he squinted, he saw that some of those figures were pointing weapons at him. The muzzles of those guns began to blink rapidly.
Zip, zap, zip, zap.
Bullets whizzed past his head and all around him. Wright did the best he could to get himself on the ground as quickly as he could. Frantically looking around for help, he spotted a couple of pathfinders shooting at the attackers, doing their best to provide some covering fire for their brethren.
With the ground approaching fast, Wright bent his knees slightly as he prepared for his landing. In seconds he was on the ground, tucking and rolling to his side. Once his momentum had stopped, he quickly unsnapped his chute and rifle case, pulling his SA80 out and slapping a fresh thirty-round magazine in place. With bullets still whipping through the air, Wright quickly found the source. Bringing his rifle to bear, he aimed at the PLA soldier shooting at his comrades. Without another thought, he squeezed the trigger, hitting the enemy soldier squarely in the chest, dropping him where he stood.
His eyes quickly scanned for more targets. The rest of his squad continued to land around him—he needed to buy his guys more time to get on the ground and organized. Running toward what he assumed was one of the pathfinders, he shouted, “Where’s the enemy fire coming from?”
The young private turned to look at him with a bewildered look on his face. “I have no idea, Corporal. I must have hit at least four of the buggers, but more and more keep showing up. I can’t find anyone else in my squad after I got the smoke grenade going.”
Corporal Wright decided it was time to take charge of the situation. He looked back to see who else was ready to move and spotted Private Flowers.
“This way!” he shouted to his friend while waving his arms. Others in his squad heard his voice and ran toward him as well. With nearly a dozen men with him, Corporal Wright turned to the pathfinder.
“Round up our rucks and get them piled up near that cluster of trees over there,” he ordered. “We’ll take over from here.”
The pathfinder nodded, obviously relieved that someone more senior had assumed control, and went about collecting the paratroopers’ rucks while they sought out the enemy.
“Let’s go!” ordered Wright. His little gang of soldiers moved forward, hunting for targets to kill.
The motley gang made it to the edge of the drop zone and
nearly ran into a group of maybe twenty PLA soldiers, less than thirty meters from them. The two groups of soldiers brought their weapons to bear on each other as they each dove for cover.
“Frag out!” shouted Flowers as he threw one of the small cylindrical devices toward a cluster of PLA soldiers near the perimeter fence.
BAM!
Pop, pop, pop, crack, ratatat, ratatat.
Corporal Wright sighted in on two enemy soldiers who were attempting to set up a machine gun. He squeezed the trigger multiple times, sending round after round at them until he saw them both stop moving. Looking to his right, he saw one of his soldiers clutch at his neck, blood squirting out between his fingers as he tried to stop the bleeding.
Crump, crump, crump.
Multiple Chinese and British grenades sailed back and forth between each side.
“Charge!” yelled a voice that sounded familiar to Wright.
He didn’t hesitate in the least once the order had been given, jumping up from his covered position screaming like a banshee. Running forward, he saw the terrified look on the faces of three PLA soldiers as he continued to scream, racing right at them. At this point he was practically firing from the hip as he emptied the remainder of his magazine on the three of them. Without thinking, he jumped right into their positions and reached for his Sig Sauer P226 with his right hand. He turned to his left and fired three quick shots at a PLA soldier who was trying to shoot at one of his comrades.
With the immediate threats neutralized, he placed his Sig back in his holster and replaced the empty magazine on his SA80 with a fresh one. “Damn, that was close,” he thought, and he vowed never to let himself run out of ammo again.
“Everyone on me!” shouted Lieutenant Shay.
Pointing to the ridge with the radar tower on it and those 23mm antiaircraft guns, the lieutenant said, “We have to take those guns out or more planes are going to get shot down. We’re going to collect our rucks, and then we’re going to double-time it around the airfield to get at that ridge. I’m not sure if the Gurkhas made it or not, but we can’t leave those guns untouched.”
