Battlefield Pacific

by James Rosone

  “Before anyone goes to sleep, we have some work to do,” announced Captain Ma. “Lieutenant Chu, I need you to make contact with headquarters. Let them know where we are, and ask if there is any fire support we’ll be able to call on when we attack. See if you can find out what other units are in the area and if we are supposed to coordinate our attack. If so, at what time and with whom? OK?”

  “I understand, Captain. I’ll work on that right now,” he replied. He ducked out from under the poncho to start making calls on the radio.

  “Lieutenant Li, you have the most dangerous and most important mission,” said Captain Ma. “I want you to pick two of the more senior sergeants or men who are most adept at sneaking up on someone. I need your team to scout what’s in front of us and find the American positions without being detected. See if you can get their exact locations, strength, and the weapons they have. If we can get some fire support from headquarters, we’ll relay that information to them and see if we can hurt the Americans before we launch our attack.”

  “Yes, Sir,” said Lieutenant Li, who seemed excited about the mission.

  “I want you to set out to do this around 0400, not right now,” explained Ma. “I want you alert and rested when I send you out, so for the moment, go get some sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

  The following morning was going to be busy, and chances were, a lot of his men might not survive.

  *******

  At 0445 hours, Captain Ma awoke from perhaps the deepest sleep he had had in weeks. Yawning, he stretched out his arms, then his legs, and finally his back and neck, noticing the creaks and cracks along the way.

  “There’s no way I can stay in the airborne for my entire career if I survive this war. My body just won’t take it,” he realized.

  “Hey, you’re awake, Sir. I was just about to come get you,” remarked Lieutenant Chu, the officer he had tasked with identifying any other potential support.

  Ma took a swig of water from his canteen, swished it around in his mouth and spat it out. He then took a couple of long drinks before returning his attention to his lieutenant. “Thanks for letting me sleep, Chu. I really needed it. So, tell me, what did you find out from headquarters?” he inquired.

  Chu smiled. He had been the XO of a sister company that had met the American Marines at the beach the day before. After an hour of fighting, they had been ordered to fall back to their rally point, which was several kilometers inland, away from the beach and deep in the jungle. His company commander and the two other officers had been killed, and he found himself in charge. Having just joined the company a month ago, he’d didn’t know a lot of the other officers in the battalion, so when the remnants of his company had made contact with Captain Ma, he was only too happy for him to take over command and let him lead them.

  Chu pulled out the map and laid it on the ground next to them. “I’ve listed the location of the other units in the area. What the Americans don’t know is that nearly the entire 128th Regiment moved to this position during the night and spread out across this entire zone,” he said. He pointed to the village of General Tinio, roughly four kilometers from the airfield.

  “The 14th Armored Brigade is located here,” Chu continued, pointing to the city of Rizal. “General Toa said he wants us to begin our attack at approximately 0615 hours. At 0600 hours, they’re going to launch a massive rocket artillery barrage on the base. When that happens, the 14th Armor is going to race toward the American positions and try to overwhelm them. I also made sure to give them the location of the American lines in front of us.” A huge smile spread across his face.

  Ma didn’t know what to say. He wanted to hug Chu at that very moment. This was going to be a real attack, not some half-measure that would result in most of them being killed or captured.

  “But how did the Americans not see that we are massing tanks, artillery, and all of these soldiers?” he wondered. “How have they not already attacked us?”

  “Lieutenant Chu, if we live through today, I’m going to recommend that you be awarded the Order of the Heroic Exemplar. You may have just saved the lives of our entire company,” Ma replied. He saw Chu just beam with pride, and he knew in that instant that Chu would follow him anywhere, under any circumstance, for giving him such glowing praise.

  “What about the American lines in front of us? How far away are they?” Captain Ma asked. He turned to Lieutenant Li and saw that he was still asleep. Ma realized that Li must have gone out already and given his report to Chu.

  “Lieutenant Li came back from his patrol about thirty minutes ago,” Chu answered. “I’ve been updating the map with what he found and relaying those grid coordinates to our own artillery. Like he said last night, it’s a good thing we stopped. The Americans are no more than one kilometer away from us. We would’ve walked right into them had we not stopped when we did. It was still dark, so he could not see their exact numbers, but using the night vision goggles, he was able to make out two roadblocks and a couple of locations where they had strung up some concertina wire. Judging by the way they placed the wires, it looks like they’re trying to funnel us into certain areas. His best guess is they probably have antipersonnel mines set up in the areas they left ‘undefended’ and want us to run through. He marked them on his map, which I transposed to yours. We both suggest that we work our way around to this spot here and avoid hitting them head-on. If we hit their right flank, we can avoid the concertina wire they set up and probably get a good jump on them.”

  The two of them looked over the maps for a few more minutes before they woke up Lieutenant Li and then grabbed their senior sergeants. It was time to talk over their attack plan and figure out how they were going to nail this American unit without getting themselves wiped out in the process.

  *******

  Palayan, Philippines

  Fort Mag

  Colonel Micah Tilman finished taking a morning bio break against the side of the building and then turned to head back into the makeshift headquarters Lieutenant Colonel Chuck Jackman had set up the day before. It was now 0422 hours, and despite the sun having been down for nearly eight hours, it was still hot and muggy. As Tilman walked along the side of the building toward the side that faced the airstrip, he saw two V-22 Ospreys land and unload a small group of passengers, all carrying a lot of gear. As soon as they got everything unloaded from the aircraft, the Osprey was gone, headed back out to sea or wherever it had come from.

  Walking toward the front entrance of the headquarters building, Colonel Tilman watched the group of soldiers throw a lot of their gear into a vehicle that drove out to meet them. Most of them hopped in, and the vehicle headed toward him. A couple of minutes later, the group got off the truck and stowed their gear near one of the burned-out hangars for the time being while three of the new arrivals walked toward him.

  As they got closer, he smiled as he recognized one of the men.

  “Lieutenant Commander Charlie Haversham, it’s good to see you again!” Colonel Tilman said as he extended his hand to shake his old friend's hand.

  Haversham returned the smile. “It’s good to see you as well, Colonel. I see your brigade has gotten itself in a bit of a pickle here at lovely Fort Mag,” he said jovially. He gestured for them to walk into the building and talk further.

  Lieutenant Commander Charlie Haversham had worked with Colonel Tilman on a few other occasions in Iraq and Afghanistan, and more recently in Syria fighting ISIL. Of course, that was when Haversham had been a lowly lieutenant in charge of a SEAL platoon and not a troop commander.

  When Tilman walked into the room with their newly arrived guest, he signaled for Lieutenant Colonel Jackman to come join them. “Chuck, I want you to meet Charlie. He’s from SEAL Team Three. His troop has just been assigned to our brigade to help us out with some recon and special missions the division commander has coming down the pike,” Tilman said.

  The two men shook hands and did what all warriors do, sizing each other up.

 
“I’m glad the SEALs decided to join the fight,” said Jackman, half-joking, half-serious. “Better late than never.”

  Haversham just shrugged. He didn’t decide where they got sent—he just went where he was told. “Let’s walk over to the map,” he said. “I have some information we need to pass along to you guys. While you guys are playing patty-cake with the PLA here yesterday, I had my three platoons scattered across most of Luzon, feeding targeting data to the air wings and getting us eyes on the enemy. A couple of my teams have spotted some real trouble headed our way,” he replied. He pointed out the location of the enemy armor brigade that had moved into position, along with what appeared to be an infantry regiment to their southeast and southern flanks.

  “Commander, if your teams have spotted these enemy units, are they calling in air strikes, or are you waiting for our permission?” inquired Jackman, who was now very concerned. They had some antitank missiles with them, but they couldn’t stand up to an armor battalion, let alone anything larger than that.

  Haversham sighed. He had known that question would be asked, and he didn’t really want to answer it. “Two problems with that,” he said. “First, we needed to know where the friendly units were before we called in air strikes. I’m not going to be responsible for getting a Marine company smoked because I didn’t know they were there. Second, and this is probably the bigger problem—the enemy air defense. Right now, that armor unit is staging in the city of Santa Rosa, using the civilians as shields. Despite the civilians, we were given the go-ahead to hit the tanks, so a couple of F/A-18s were vectored in to hammer them. As they got closer to the target, both aircraft were intercepted by Chinese stealth fighters and were shot down.”

  Jackman mumbled something under his breath.

  Haversham continued. “After that incident, the carrier said they would send in a pair of F-35s. As soon as the F-35s dropped their weapons, both of them were shot down by a surface-to-air missile complex that’s still operational near Clark International Airport. We took out maybe half a dozen or more enemy tanks but lost a total of four aircraft in the process. Needless to say, that is not a very good exchange,” he concluded. This meant that their air support had virtually dried up over the evening.

  Colonel Tilman jumped in before Jackman could ask any other questions. “What is the Navy doing to take those SAM sites out, so we can get our air support back?”

  “That’s our new assignment,” Commander Haversham responded. “I’m setting up my headquarters here to run my teams. Our guys are now moving to get in position, so we can lase those SAM sites. Then the Air Force can hit them with some of their long-range guided glide bombs. They can launch those bad boys from nearly one hundred miles out and let them glide undetected toward their targets. Once they’re down, we’ll have our air support back up and running.”

  Jackman snorted. “Well, this is just great. We have a tank unit prepping to attack us and a heavy concentration of enemy infantry to our south. Colonel, we’re going to need a lot more support if we are to hold this base.”

  Tilman nodded. “This information does change things for us. Commander, I want you to give the coordinates of those troop concentrations and tanks to our fire support guys. I have one battery of 105mm artillery on the east side of the base. It’s been a cluster mess getting them set up and ready, but as of half an hour ago, they reported that they’re ready to provide fire missions. I want to hit those enemy positions before the Chinese have a chance to hit us. Is that understood?”

  They had a lot of things to do to get ready for a pending attack, and the action would most likely start within the next couple of hours. They spoke efficiently and stayed focused; hopefully their preparations would make a difference in the outcome.

  *******

  Palayan City, Philippines

  It was 0520 hours when Captain Tim Long awoke with a start as he heard the 105mm Howitzers fire off a volley at some unknown target. Sitting upright, he immediately got to his feet and grabbed his rifle. Then he walked over to his radio operator to find out what was happening.

  First Sergeant John Madero and Gunnery Sergeant Mueller were already talking with his radio operator, giving him some instructions before he called back to headquarters. “What’s going on, Top?” asked Long, hoping it wasn’t anything serious.

  “We’re working on trying to get an update from battalion. All we know right now is they caught word of a possible tank unit getting ready to attack the airfield, so they’re trying to disrupt the attack with the big guns,” Madero replied.

  “OK. Why don’t you guys go ahead and get everyone awake and have them get ready?” Long asked. It wasn’t really a question, but more of an order. “If they’re going use an armor unit, then chances are, this could be a coordinated attack. In which case, they’ll probably hit our positions as well. We’re practically the only unit protecting those Howitzers right now.” Captain Long suddenly felt a new sense of urgency. To add further emphasis to his concern, another volley of artillery fire exploded in the distance.

  Nearly forty minutes went by as the company manned their fighting positions and got ready for whatever might be coming their way. The sound of the artillery fire picked up, and a few times, it sounded like they’d changed directions of where they were shooting. Then suddenly, while the Marines were sitting in their fighting positions, eating their MREs and waiting to see what would happen next, they all heard the unmistakable sound of incoming fire.

  While many of the Marines were still green, they knew the loud racket was not friendly. Dozens and then hundreds of rockets hit Fort Mag, rocking the base. At first, it was just the airfield that was getting hit, nailing a few attack helicopters that had transferred to the shore, while other rockets hit some of the barracks and garrison buildings, rocking the defenders. A couple of minutes into the barrage, the men started to believe that maybe they were going to skate by without being attacked directly; then the first rocket hit the church, followed by dozens more that hit all across the small little village, smashing people’s homes and the local school.

  When it sounded like the barrage had lifted, the cries of wounded civilians and those in agonizing pain began in earnest. Just as Captain Long poked his head above the foxhole he had been hiding in, a slew of machine-gun fire overtook the screams of the wounded.

  “The Chinese are attacking! Return fire!” yelled one of the sergeants maybe twenty meters in front of Long’s foxhole. To his right, maybe a hundred meters away, one of the M240s opened fire, spraying the jungle to their front with streams of hot lead. A loud explosion shook the air as one of their Claymore mines tore into the attackers.

  Boom! Boom! Explosions rocked the machine-gun position seconds later, and the M240 went silent, replaced by the roaring yell of hundreds of voices running right at Long’s right flank.

  “Holy crap! They're going to overrun us!” he thought as he heard the loud screams of the enemy charge.

  “Shift fire to the right! Reinforce those positions now!” Long yelled over the company net. “The Chinese are trying to move around us!”

  Another explosion rocked his right flank, and then he saw several RPGs fly past his soldiers’ position and hit a few trees further behind them. One exploded right in front of three Marines who were moving forward to shore up their defenses, killing them outright before they even knew what had happened.

  Turning to the group of five Marines near him, Captain Long ordered, “Fix bayonets and follow me.”

  The Marines collectively looked at each other, seeming to ask themselves if they’d really heard what they thought they had. Then their instincts and training took over, and they grabbed their bayonets, attaching the blades to the front of their M4 rifles.

  Captain Long changed his magazine, placing a fresh thirty-round one in his rifle, and then lifted himself out of his fighting position. He dashed forward in the low ready position with his rifle aimed in front of him as he moved to reinforce his right flank, ready to shoot the first Chinese sol
dier he saw. Seconds after he left his position, the other five Marines got up and quickly followed him, lining up almost abreast of him as they advanced.

  The chattering of both rifle fire and machine-gun fire was constant now as both sides threw more and more men at each other, trying to gain an advantage and fire supremacy. Another RPG flew over their heads, exploding somewhere behind them. The fighting zone in front of them was becoming hidden by the amount of smoke from grenades, RPGs, and Claymore mines going off. The smells of cordite, sulfur, and feces permeated the air.

  Charging forward into the roar of gunfire and screaming men, a cloud of smoke wafted in front of Long’s men, temporarily obscuring their view. As they ran forward through it, they tripped and stumbled over the dead bodies of fallen Marines intertwined with dead enemy soldiers. Several Marines were rolling on the ground in a desperate hand-to-hand fight to the death. One Marine swung his entrenching tool wildly as he hit a Chinese soldier in the face repeatedly, either not realizing the man was dead or simply overcome by his emotions.

  Long rang toward one of the Marines, who was being straddled by a Chinese paratrooper who was desperately trying to drive his knife into the Marine’s chest. In one smooth motion, Captain Long used the butt of his rifle to hit the enemy soldier under the chin, causing him to lose his balance and fall backward. As the man fell, Long lunged his bayonet into the man's abdomen. He pulled the bayonet out and thrust it into the soldier’s gut again, twisting the blade before he pulled it out this time. The enemy soldier went limp.

  The Marine who had been on the ground fighting for his life grabbed his M4 and fired several rounds into a Chinese soldier who had charged at Long, nearly running his own bayonet through him. Just as Long went to say, “Thanks,” the Marine was shot in the cheek and the bullet summarily exploded out the other side of the man's face.

  “Look out, Sir!” one of his Marines yelled. Long ducked just in time to place his shoulder into the chest of the man who was charging right at him. In that instant, he felt the man’s armor plate in his body armor and a twinge of pain in his own shoulder. He lifted up and backward with all of his might, throwing the enemy soldier over his shoulder to the ground below. Turning quickly to face him, Long fired several rounds into the man's upper body and face, killing him instantly.