by James Rosone
As the sentry was dragged to the ground and bled out, the rest of the SAS team moved in. Approaching the entrance, one of them pulled out a small electronic camera that was on a snake cord. He turned it on and moved the head of the cord around the corner to see what was on the other side. Major Warden walked up and looked at the small video display as well. With the night vision scope on, they saw one additional guard sitting on the opposite side of the wall from them.
Slowly, his teammate pulled the cord back and put it back in his pack. Warden moved his rifle to behind his back and retrieved his silenced pistol from his leg holster. Motioning for the others to follow him, he stacked up on the wall with the rest of the team falling in line behind him. Raising his hand with three fingers extended, he slowly counted down from three to one and then moved quickly around the wall.
Major Warden leveled his pistol at the guard, who nearly jumped out of his seat. Before he could yell or alert anyone else, Warden had already fired two quick shots into the guard’s chest and one to his forehead, dropping the man where he stood. In a flash, the rest of the team pushed forward with their rifles at the ready as they fanned out into the structure. When they came out of the hallway, they saw rows of rail launchers with anti-ship missiles on them aimed out to sea. Taking these missiles out was their primary objective.
As the team fanned out into the room, they spotted twelve soldiers and moved quickly to take them out. Ten of them were asleep in their cots near the back wall of the missile room, while two more were looking at what appeared to be a radar screen, probably watching to make sure no surface contacts came within range of their missiles.
Within seconds, the six SAS men and the lone SEAL had opened fire with their silenced pistols, killing everyone before they had a chance to activate the alarm or go for their weapons.
With the hostiles neutralized, Major Warden got the attention of his demolition expert. “Rig the area to blow,” he ordered.
Looking at his watch, Warden realized the others should have reached their positions by then and wondered how things were going on their end.
With the explosive charges set, the SAS team exited the facility and made their way back to the rendezvous point, where they would wait for the others and then slip back into the water and head back to the waiting submarine. Thirty minutes went by as the men stealthily made their way through the jungle, doing their best to leave no tracks and make as little noise as possible. Suddenly, there was a series of loud noises nearby.
Bang, bang, bang, boom!
A sequence of rifles and machine guns opened fire, maybe a quarter kilometer away from them in the direction of the airstrip. Then they heard what sounded like a grenade, or maybe an RPG round going off. Seconds later, the loud sound of an air raid siren, which must have been the base alarm, blared into the midnight air, rousing everyone on the island and alerting to them danger.
“Crap! What happened?” thought Major Warden. Everyone in the team now quickly moved to the beach where they’d stowed their gear.
Just as they were about to bust through the jungle cover in a final dash, a single gunshot rang out, and their point man’s head exploded. His body dropped to the ground. Everyone instantly hit the dirt as a fusillade of bullets ripped through the air where they had just been. Several of the SAS men immediately returned fire, matching the barrage of hot lead that the enemy soldiers were spewing at them.
The Navy SEAL with the team realized that they couldn’t let themselves get pinned down and threw a fragmentation grenade at the enemy. Then he jumped up and charged right at the Chinese forces, firing his Fostech Origin 12 semiautomatic 12-gauge shotgun. As he screamed and rushed toward the enemy, one of the SAS troops jumped up and followed him forward, only to be cut down in a hail of bullets.
Major Warden saw the SEAL take several hits, but he continued charging. In seconds, he had jumped into whatever the enemy was using for cover and had summarily gunned them all down before collapsing lifeless in a heap, surrounded by other dead bodies. The rest of the SAS men ran as quickly as they could to get to the rendezvous point where they met up with one of the other teams. As the remaining team members grabbed their underwater gear, mortar rounds landed not far from their position.
The shouts of Chinese soldiers and more gunfire rang out all around them as the enemy closed in on them and boxed them in. At that moment, Major Warden knew what he needed to do. “We need a diversion to lead the enemy away from the beach so you all can get away,” he said. “I’m going to run a few hundred meters to the south, and then I’ll head into the water. I’ll swim over to the reef, and you guys can pick me up from there.”
The others in the team nodded, not wanting to challenge him on his logic, even though they all knew the likelihood of him meeting them at the reef was low. If nothing happened, they realized they would all probably die there.
“Let me blow the charges now, Major,” said the demolition expert. “That will at least cause them to turn away from us so you can have a chance to make a run for it.” He pulled the remote detonator from his pocket.
Warden nodded as he changed out his magazine, placing a fresh one in its place. A second later, the small island was rocked by two large explosions, which caused a massive fireball to appear in the night sky.
Major Warden made his break. He took off at breakneck speed, firing at the enemy as he ran, making a lot of noise. He also shouted in English and made it sound like his team was trying to coordinate an escape.
The loud ruckus had the desired effect, and the enemy shifted their fire toward Major Warden and began following him in hot pursuit. As the enemy ran after their squadron commander, the remaining members of the team moved quickly into the water and swam out to the break in the reef, where they’d stowed their underwater vehicle.
One of the team members stayed near the reef on the surface of the water, waiting with his scuba gear on to see if Major Warden was going to make it. As he listened to the activity on shore, he heard Warden’s rifle firing for a while; then a couple of explosions went off, and he no longer heard the major’s rifle fire. At that point, the SAS man knew their squadron commander had either been captured or killed, and it was time to make their way back to the sub. Major Warden had given his life so his team could get away and fight on another day.
*******
It was still dark outside as the amphibious assault ships moved through the murky waters of the Java Sea, past Karimunjawa Island. In the distance, some fires were burning on the island. In the sky above them, Navy fighter jets whooshed by as they conducted their aerial dance of death with Chinese and Indonesia warplanes. On the flight decks of the troop transports, the roar of helicopters spinning up overshadowed the sounds of aerial combat.
The soldiers of Fourth Platoon, Alpha Company, Third Battalion, 81st Infantry Brigade lifted the eighty-six-pound packs onto their shoulders as they lined up to head to the flight deck. From there, they would board one of the waiting helicopters, which would whisk them away to the unknown, and hopefully not certain death.
Snapping his magazine pouch closed and then grabbing his pack, Lieutenant Slater placed the heavy load on and picked up his rifle. He found himself wondering how he landed in this situation again. He wasn’t supposed to go back to a line unit. Somehow, he had survived battle in Korea and capture by the Chinese, and now, here he was, doing it all over again in the Pacific.
Several months into Ian’s new training gig at Fort Lewis-McCord, Captain Wilkes had informed him that the battalion they’d been training was being sent to the South Pacific; the NCOs and officers that had been carrying out the training would be deploying with them as their permanent leadership. Before Ian could voice his objection, Wilkes handed him a pair of silver bars, telling him he was being promoted to first lieutenant and would be taking over command of Fourth Platoon, Alpha Company. Three weeks later, the entire battalion found themselves boarding a troop ship in Australia headed to the Java Sea.
“Lieutenant, you ready
for this?” asked Captain Wilkes. He walked up to Ian with that naïve excitement a soldier has before he’s seen combat.
Slater shook his head. “I don’t think I have much of a choice,” he replied glumly. The two of them waited for the word to head out to the flight deck to board the helicopters.
Leaning in closer so only the two of them could be heard, Captain Wilkes said, “Look, Slater, I know you’re not pleased about being sent back into combat. I’d be fuming if I were in your shoes, too. You know I went to bat for you with the colonel to try and get you out of this deployment, right? Unfortunately, right now I need you to suck it up and do the best you can to keep your platoon alive. Can you do that for me?” Wilkes asked with a bit of concern and fear showing in his eyes.
Letting a deep breath out, Slater looked up and placed his hand on the captain's shoulder. “Sir, I may complain softly to myself or to you, but you have always been able to count on me. My platoon will do what’s necessary to accomplish our mission. That may mean a lot of them have to die—that’s a risk we all have to accept when we go into combat. Just make sure you’re ready yourself, to lead us. Don’t freeze up when the bullets fly, because trust me, every plan we’ve put together is going to get thrown out the window once the fighting starts,” he said.
Wilkes nodded, knowing Slater was right. When Ian had first shown up to his command, he hadn’t known what to make of the sergeant with a bad attitude. As he had gotten to know him, he had seen the attitude was more of an act, something that helped him deal with his fear and pain. Lieutenant Slater had taught him and the other officers and NCOs a lot about what it was like to be in combat, and how quickly things could get thoroughly bungled. The greatest asset they had in a battle was to be fearless and aggressive and remember that the other guy didn’t want to be there any more than they did.
“Thanks, Lieutenant. You help me guide the company through this crap storm we’re about to wade through, and I’ll get you through being an officer…deal?” Wilkes asked with a smile on his face as he stuck his hand out.
Laughing at the comment, Slater shook his hand. “Sure thing, Sir. Besides, your wife said she’d kill me if I didn’t make sure you returned home,” he replied. The two chuckled briefly before one of the other sergeants walked up to them and told them the rest of the platoons were ready to move.
Twenty minutes went by before one of the crewmen from the ship said it was time for them to file up the ladder that would take them to the flight deck. The 260 soldiers of Alpha Company made their way up three levels through the ladder well until they emerged through a side door on the superstructure that opened up to the flight deck. Once there, they were greeted with the smells of jet fuel and seawater, and the roaring engines of dozens of helicopters.
The sun had just crested over the horizon, bringing the new day to life. When Lieutenant Slater walked out onto the flight deck, the morning twilight revealed nearly a dozen V-22 Ospreys and CH-47 Chinooks, along with lines of infantrymen feeding into the flying chariots of war. Slater stood to the side of the door once he exited and encouraged each of the soldiers in his platoon to move forward to the helicopter they were being directed to. One by one, the soldiers exited the stairwell and made their way to one of the Ospreys. When the last soldier of his platoon exited, Slater got back in line and followed them.
His platoon was being filtered into two of the tiltrotor aircraft. This was the first time Slater had ever flown in one of these new types of helicopters, and he had to admit, he was pretty excited. He had flown in Blackhawks and Chinooks, but never an Osprey. Ducking his head out of instinct as he approached the loading ramp, he walked into the cargo bay and found the last seat, next to the landing ramp and the rear door gunner/crew chief.
Within seconds of getting settled into his seat, the Osprey lifted off the deck along with the other helicopters and turned toward land. Slater looked out the ramp; he was amazed at the sight of the warships below them. He had never seen so many different types of ships. Looking back at the soldiers in his platoon, he saw that many of them were as impressed with the display of naval might as he was. A few of his men were whispering prayers or playing with their rosary beads, and otherwise engaging in any other ritual they felt might help keep them alive.
While the Ospreys picked up speed, Ian saw dozens upon dozens of other helicopters fall into formation. He also spotted a number of Super Cobra gunships at the fringes of the formation, probably their escorts. Twenty minutes went by, and then the helicopters dropped down low, flying just above the water.
The sun had finally risen above the water, revealing more of the world around them, as well as the danger they were now about to fly in to. When their armada of helicopters approached the coasts of Java, small black puffs of smoke appeared in their midst, shaking nearby aircraft and throwing shrapnel in every direction. This was quickly followed by bursts of green tracer fire crisscrossing back and forth across the sky. The attack helicopters that had been escorting them broke off and engaged the enemy guns.
The crew chief and tail gunner closest to Lieutenant Slater turned to him and signaled they were now two minutes away from landing. Slater turned to his soldiers and gave them the same message. Most of the soldiers either gave him a thumbs-up or nodded in acknowledgment.
The Osprey turned hard to the left as they flew over the beach, which gave Slater an exceptional view of the city, intermixed with enemy tracer fire and black pillars of smoke on the ground. Before Slater knew what was happening, the Osprey flared its nose up hard and then landed with a thud on the ground. The door gunner signaled for everyone to get off the aircraft quickly.
Lieutenant Slater ran off the aircraft and quickly darted toward a cluster of trees near the junction of Highway 1 and Highway 5, which ran from the port city of Cirebon to Jakarta, 197 kilometers away. Looking behind him, Slater saw the rest of his platoon was quickly following him to the tree line. Once they were all off the Osprey, it took off and headed back to the ship they had just left.
Once they had all fanned out inside the trees, Slater directed the squad leaders to get a perimeter set up. They needed to move quickly and get their roadblock established and dig in a defensive position. His platoon had been charged with setting up a roadblock on Highway 5 and making sure no one was able to get toward Cirebon. The other platoons were setting up positions on Highway 1 and the town around the road junction.
One of the sergeants began to string a roll of concertina wire across the two lanes of traffic that headed toward the coast. They left the other two lanes open for the moment—if people wanted to leave the area, they were more than willing to let them. Their orders were to not let anyone head to the port city, but they were not about to stop anyone from leaving it.
A couple of his soldiers found some vehicles and drove them to the coiled wire, using the vehicles to help act as a barrier. A few vehicles that saw their roadblock approached them cautiously, apparently not aware at first that they were American soldiers and not Indonesian units, and asked what the roadblock was being set up for.
When Slater looked over and saw two of his soldiers having a very animated conversation with one of the drivers, he signaled for their lone translator to come with him to investigate what was going on. As they approached the vehicle, where the argument was growing louder, Lieutenant Slater saw more and more vehicles were approaching the checkpoint.
“This isn’t good,” he thought.
“What’s the problem, Specialist Tailor?” Slater asked. “Just tell them to turn around and go back where they came from.”
Tailor sighed audibly. “I tried that, Sir. He doesn’t want to listen, and I can’t speak whatever language it is they speak here,” the soldier said, clearly frustrated with what was going on.
Shaking his head, Lieutenant Slater walked up to the vehicle with the translator. At this point, the driver looked like he suddenly had an epiphany and said in broken English. “You American soldiers?”
Slater snorted and pointed
at the American flag patch on his uniform. He turned to his translator. “Tell this guy that, yes, we are American soldiers. He needs to turn around and go back to wherever he came from. He cannot travel down this road.”
The translator and the driver conversed rapidly in their native tongue. The driver was clearly furious that he could not continue down the road, but eventually, he turned around and left. This scenario played out a few more times before the rest of the drivers figured out they could not drive down this road and turned their vehicles around.
Four hours later, after they’d turned away a lot of angry drivers, a column of Australian tanks and other armored vehicles traveled down the road toward them. They slowed briefly, and then passed through their checkpoint, continuing down the road that would eventually lead them to the capital city of Jakarta. It was hoped that if the ANZACs and Americans could land forces quickly on Java, they could make a mad dash for the capital and potentially capture the government during the ensuing confusion.
An hour after the first column of armored vehicles passed their positions, a second armored column followed the first, and then a long supply convoy followed them. Ten hours into the landings, the vehicles for Alpha Company, Third Battalion, 81st Infantry Brigade finally arrived, and they were able to hand over their roadblock position to a military police unit while they did their best to try and catch up to the ANZAC forces that should by now be encircling the capital. It was hoped they could convince the government to surrender the city, rather than forcing them to have to fight it out. By surrounding the city quickly, they could prevent any local military units from reinforcing it or coming to the aide of the government. The key to this operation was speed.
