Seeing the M67 for the threat that it was, Captain Ma began screaming at his troops to take it out, and the majority of the fire focused on the team. They had just finished loading the next round when Corporal Jose Gonzalez, the M67 team’s loader, was hit in the shoulder and went down. Corporal Duncan braved the incoming fire to stand and launch the next round, clearing out the Chinese soldiers that were in the tunnel between Sections 141 and 142. “Into the vehicles!” yelled Calvin, and the soldiers clustered around the vehicles began climbing into them, Corporal Duncan dragging Corporal Gonzalez into the IFV. Sergeant Hylton and Corporal Taylor provided covering fire while the rest of the group got into the backs of the vehicles. As they ran to get in, Paris was hit in the leg and went down. “Damn it! Not again!” he yelled as he tried to crawl to the back of the vehicle. Deadeye came back and helped drag him into the vehicle, with bullets hitting the field all around her.
The fight at the center field gate was well in hand. Sergeant Chang had heard the Chinese commander over the public address system and knew that troops had been ordered to come around the concourse and hit the platoon from behind. Realizing that both Chinese-speaking Americans were in his group, he sent Private Li around the concourse to the right field gate to warn the others on that side. That left him with only Corporal ‘Colonel’ Sanders, who had one of the Chinese light automatic weapons. Placing Sanders behind cover with a good view of the concourse, he went to the other side of the passageway. It wasn’t long before they heard the slapping footsteps of running men, and 10 men came running down the concourse. Both Shuteye and Colonel pulled the pins on the grenades they had ready and tossed them at the group of incoming soldiers. Colonel’s grenade hit a pole and bounced into an alcove, where most of the blast was muffled. Shuteye’s landed in the middle of the group and exploded, killing or wounding the majority of the group. While the Chinese soldiers dove for cover, looking in the Shuteye’s direction, the Colonel opened up on them from the other side of the concourse, firing an entire magazine into the group on full automatic. He looked for movement while he changed the magazine but didn’t see any. Levering a round into the chamber, he nodded to Shuteye, who cautiously advanced toward the remnants of the Chinese squad. Their caution was unnecessary; the Chinese were all dead.
Things on the other side of the stadium were not going as well for the platoon. Jet arrived to find that the team there was heavily engaged with a squad of Chinese soldiers, who they had run into at nearly hand-to-hand range. Each side recoiled from the other, with the Americans slightly more prepared than the Chinese for the contact. Sergeant Nguyen and PFC Severn had each fired off most of a clip, killing nearly half the squad of men before the Chinese soldiers began returning fire, hitting Corporal Beck in the chest. Jet could see him lying in the passageway. It looked like his chest was still rising and falling slowly, but the size of the puddle of blood he was lying in indicated that he wouldn’t last long.
After the initial contact, both sides had dived for cover, and a stalemate had ensued. The remaining three Americans had slightly better cover, which allowed them to hold off the numerically superior forces of the Chinese. Both sides were trapped, though, and neither could disengage without exposing themselves to fire from the other side.
Jet knew that they needed to rejoin the main body of the platoon, which should have been almost ready to leave. He had stopped around a corner from the fighting when he heard the rifles firing. Although he hadn’t been seen yet by the Chinese forces, he could see Private First Class Woodard. “Psst,” he said to get Woody’s attention. When Woody looked, Jet gave him the signal for “how many men?” Woody stuck his head out around the corner, dodging back quickly as several Chinese soldiers fired at the movement. He looked back at Jet and held up five fingers and shrugged, indicating that it might be a man or two more or less. He then held up three fingers and pointed to the left side of the concourse and then two fingers and pointed to the right side. Jet nodded; more soldiers on the left than the right.
Wanting to end the confrontation quickly, Jet pulled out his last two grenades and prepared to throw them. Woody shook his head and held out his hands as if to catch one. Jet lobbed one to him, keeping it low so that the Chinese wouldn’t see it. Woody then pantomimed for Jet to throw to the left side, which was an easier throw for him, while Woody would throw to the right. They both pulled the pins on their grenades, arming them. Woody held up fingers, one…two…three… and they both threw their grenades down the hall. Jet had to look around the corner to see where to throw the grenade, so it took him a half second longer to throw it and also exposed him to enemy fire for a longer period. As he was completing the throw, he was hit in the upper arm and spun back around the corner.
Two explosions filled the corridor with smoke and shrapnel, and Woody rolled out into the concourse firing down the hall at the two soldiers that were exposed by the blast. As both of those two went down, PFC Severn and Sergeant Nguyen rose and charged down the corridor. The one remaining soldier was stunned by the twin grenade blasts; slowed, he wasn’t able to get his rifle up quickly enough to defend himself and was shot by Sergeant Nguyen from point blank range. He looked back at Woody, who was kneeling next to Corporal Beck. Woody shook his head; they had won, but Becks was dead.
Center Field Playground, Safeco Field, Seattle, WA, 1135 PDT
The voice continued yelling over the public address system in Chinese. Although they couldn’t understand it, the tone sounded like he was giving orders. “I’m gettin’ awful tired of that man’s squawkin’,” commented Tiny to his spotter. “Please find him for me, so I can shut him up for good.”
Leaving Tiny to continue to pick off the targets in the tunnels, BTO shifted his gaze to the press boxes in the upper level. It wasn’t long before he found a man in one of the windows, talking into a microphone with one hand while gesturing frantically with the other.
“Got ‘em,” BTO said. “Look straight up from the IFV on the right. He’s in the window right above it.”
Tiny shifted the rifle, looking through the scope. “Yup,” was all Tiny said to acknowledge that he had seen the man. There was a pause as Tiny relaxed into the shot and gently stroked the trigger. The gun fired, and a star appeared in the glass in front of the officer. When the stadium was built, the designers had put reinforced glass into the windows as a safety precaution, both to ensure that it wouldn’t be shattered by baseballs that hit it and to keep people from accidentally falling through. The designers had never considered trying to stop a .50 caliber round, and the glass was not up to the challenge. The giant round penetrated the glass, only slowing slightly as it passed through. The glass did have one effect on the bullet, as the impact of the bullet on the glass caused it to deform and begin to mushroom. The round that struck the Chinese captain was no longer pointed; its tip was much bigger and flatter, making the impact as it hit him significantly more destructive. The captain was blown backward, with most of his head missing.
“Thanks,” was all that Tiny said as the public address system went silent.
BTO scanned the field and saw that most of the Chinese guns had gone silent. As he watched, the turrets traversed on the infantry fighting vehicles, and the 30mm cannons of both began sweeping the tunnels on the opposite side. With the IFVs providing cover, it was time for the sniper team to leave, and they jumped over a railing and began running down to the field. Scanning the field as they ran, they saw a team of three coming from the right. Damn, thought BTO, Shuteye’s team must have lost someone. Looking to the left, he saw the right field team come out of one of the tunnels and begin running down to the field. All four men seemed to be coming from that side, although one of them was carrying another over his shoulder. From the lifeless way that the soldier being carried bounced, it didn’t look good. Jet looked like he had been hit, too.
As Tiny and BTO jumped the railing onto the field, the IFVs started pounding out rounds from their main guns, in concert with the cannons. The twins intended to keep
any remaining Chinese soldiers’ heads down, and the big guns were effective for doing that. Between their earlier effort and the rounds impacting on the west side of the stadium, Chinese fire was reduced to only an occasional shot or two. With the damage being done to the stadium, though, thought BTO, it was going to be a while before the Mariners played another home game here.
As all of the teams reached the IFVs, they realized that they had a problem. With only 21 remaining platoon members, Calvin and Ryan had thought that everyone could ride out of the stadium in the IFVs. They had forgotten that the squad bay of one of the vehicles was filled with the large wooden box holding the nuclear warhead. Realizing they hadn’t been thinking clearly, they devised an alternate plan. Half of the platoon loaded into the IFVs for transport back to the hangar, while eight men and Corporal Taylor went back with Top on foot to retrieve their cars from the department store. Calvin had wanted to remain with that group, but Ryan had convinced him to go with the IFVs, so that he could call Washington as soon as possible.
The two vehicles continued firing their guns while they drove for the exit. The gate to the exterior of the stadium was chained, but not impervious to the 100mm round that hit it. The rest of the gate was demolished as the lead armored vehicle crashed through it. They were free, but not out of the woods. With the IFVs in the lead, the platoon drove down Royal Brougham Street and turned south toward the Filson’s where they had left their cars. As they rounded the corner, they found a group of six soldiers that had been locked out of the stadium. The Chinese soldiers started gesturing at the IFVs as they rounded the corner, thinking that reinforcements had come to their aid. Unfortunately for them, aid was not to be had, and Shuteye’s head popped out of the commander’s hatch to tell them to put down their rifles and surrender.
One of the soldiers made the mistake of trying to draw his rifle; a burst of 30mm shells cut him down, as well as four of his comrades. As the smoke cleared, the remaining Chinese soldier was allowed to surrender and was marched back to the department store with the platoon. They made it back to the store without any further complications.
* * * * *
Chapter Five: Afternoon/Evening, August 21, 2018
Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Tacoma, WA, 1205 PDT
Colonel Zhang Wei still hadn’t heard anything from the force that he had sent to the Bangor Naval Base that morning. As long as they he had been gone, he had to assume that they were lost. Even worse, he had just been informed by one of his subordinate army commanders that the additional nuclear weapon the president had told him about had been taken by the Americans, with the loss of yet another of his companies. If the president had only confided in him, he would have been happy to send up a company of tanks or IFVs or even some of his precious remaining troops; anything to keep the Americans from getting their hands on his final nuclear weapon.
It was now incontrovertible; Colonel Zhang knew that they had lost Seattle. He didn’t have enough troops to be able to send another expedition to Bangor and still be able to hold off the Americans. If he pulled out from any of his defenses, the remaining men would be swarmed under before he could get one of the weapons back. They had gambled and lost.
They still held the northern part of Seattle and Whidbey Island, but had lost the eastern I-90 corridor. He had just heard from his commander in the east. He reported that the men there were in full retreat, although it sounded more like a rout. The Americans had paused when he told the American president about the nuclear weapon that they had brought, but with its retrieval, they were now attacking again in full force. His troops had been able to regroup slightly during the lull and had initially held their own against the renewed American attack, but had then been hit from behind again. The middle of the line had broken and, just like a break in a dam, the Americans had poured through faster and faster, sweeping away the Chinese forces. It wouldn’t be long until the Americans reached the city of Seattle. He had instructed his troops to blow the bridge onto Mercer Island; that would at least make them take the long way around through Renton.
Without the nukes, they were finished. He didn’t have much time.
It was time to save what he could. He ordered a general withdrawal.
The troops in Bremerton were a lost cause. With the Long sunk, they had no way to get the amphibious tanks back. All they could hope for was that the oiler Qiandaohu could get underway. If it could make it into the Pacific with the destroyers, they could make it back to China as a group. He ordered all of the warships to collect everyone they could and make for the Pacific.
Everyone else was ordered to return to the civilian ships that had brought them, and for those ships to get underway at 1400, regardless of who was able to make it aboard by then. Those ships had the ability to transport a lot of equipment and personnel; a lot more capacity than they now needed. The M.V. Xin Beijing, the M.V. Hanjin Kingston, the M.V. Erawan, the M.V. Xin Qing Dao, and the cruise ship Henna would all be leaving from Seattle half full, at best. He intended to be aboard the destroyer Changsha when it sailed from Tacoma. If the rest of his forces in the area could make it onto the M.V. Xin Fei Zhou car carrier in the Port of Tacoma, they might make it out of America, too; otherwise, they were to blow up their equipment to keep it from falling into the Americans’ hands.
He could only hope that the war in Taiwan was going better.
Boeing Airplane Programs Manufacturing Site, Renton, WA, 1245 PDT
After talking to the CNO for a few minutes, Calvin called Ryan and Top over for a strategy session. “Congratulations,” he told them. “It appears that we’ve won. The CNO says it looks like the Chinese are running like rats leaving a sinking ship. They are loading all of their ships, and the brass thinks they’re going to flee.”
“Great!” said Ryan. “Our job here is done.”
“Well, almost,” responded Calvin. “The CNO asked if there was anything we could do about the destroyer that’s here in Tacoma. The Navy and Coast Guard are sending a bunch of warships to intercept the merchant vessels that are leaving, but they thought it would be easier if we could do something about the Changsha before it got underway, rather than having to fight it at sea where it could use all of its weapons.” He looked at Ryan. “Got any good SEAL ideas for sinking a ship?”
“Well, if I had my scuba gear and a bunch of explosives, it would be really easy to swim up and put an explosive charge on its side. I don’t have either one of those, though. How much time do we have before they leave? Any idea?”
“No, the brass doesn’t know,” said Calvin, “but they think the Chinese will be leaving really soon.”
“Well, sir, I may not be a navy guy or well versed in the art of sinking ships,” said Top, looking around the hangar, “but I know where we can find an awful lot of firepower that we can bring to bear on the problem.”
“Hey, sir,” said Corporal John Duncan, who hadn’t been returned to his unit yet, despite Calvin’s earlier promise, “I know we’re new to the platoon and don’t have a lot of ammo left, but we’d love to come blow up a ship, too.”
“Yeah,” agreed his gunner, Corporal Juan Gonzales, “it sounds like fun.” Like Paris earlier, the wound he had received at Safeco Field was minor. He had been sewn up and was ready to continue the fight.
“I like them,” said Ryan. “Can we keep them?”
“It’s possible,” answered Calvin. “I suspect that their commanding officer would probably do just about anything that I asked of him, now that he knows I have the president on speed dial.” He looked at Top and then the armored vehicles. “Do we have anyone that can shoot these things? I’m guessing the twins can handle the tank, once they decide whose turn it is to drive, but can anyone run the IFVs?”
“Give me a couple of minutes with the twins as instructors,” replied Top, “and I’m sure we can work it out.”
Top went over to talk to the twins, but came back a minute later with the twins in tow. “Sir, there’s something you should know.” He looked at the tw
ins.
One of them spoke up. “Umm, sir, before we, like, go fight a ship with these things, we just thought you ought to know that, like, the tank is out of ammo for its main gun.”
The other one nodded his head. “The shot I took on the bridge over the IFVs was the last round it had in it. When I tried to load the next round, I was like, dude, there aren’t any rounds left. Bogus! So, we, like, looked at the IFVs when we got back, and most of them were just about out of ammunition for their main guns, too. It was a pretty long battle, and those things don’t carry as much ammo as you would think.” He paused, looking embarrassed. “The shells are pretty big and just take up a lot of room, dude. I mean, sir.”
“So basically, the tank is nothing now but a big bluff?” asked Calvin.
“Pretty much,” the twins chorused together.
“You probably want us to be in, like, one of the IFVs we just captured,” the first one suggested. “They’ve still got a bitchin’ load of rounds for us to fire, if needed.”
“OK,” said Calvin. “I still want the tank there for looks, but I want at least one of you in an IFV with a full load of rounds. The gun on it may not be as big as the tank gun, but it’ll do a lot of damage. If you can teach someone to drive the tank, then I want each of you in one of the new IFVs.”
Navy Pier, Port of Tacoma, Tacoma, WA, 1345 p.m. PDT
They had waited long enough, thought Colonel Zhang Wei, as he paced across the bridge of the PLAN Changsha. We need to leave before the Americans get here. He had just opened his mouth to tell the ship’s commanding officer to get underway when a column of armored vehicles came down the pier. There was a Type 99 tank in the lead, followed by at least nine of the ZBD-08 infantry fighting vehicles. As the hatch of the tank in the lead popped open, he realized that these were the missing vehicles that he had sent to Bangor. If they had returned with some nuclear warheads, maybe they could still salvage something from this operation. His hopes soared.
Occupied Seattle (Occupied Seattle Book 2) Page 24
