Alerted to Ryan’s sabotage by the sound of the blast, a cry went up from the soldiers on the north side of the Travel Center parking lot as he ran across 468th Ave. toward the Edgewick Inn parking lot where he had left his Jeep. Seeing him running away, several of the soldiers fired shots in his direction, but he was too far away for them to get a good shot at him, and they missed. Although he heard a couple of bullets go by, the majority weren’t close enough to be a cause for worry. Looking over his shoulder, he could see a bunch of soldiers getting into the vans; that was a cause for worry.
A column of black smoke filled the sky over the Travel Center parking lot, and he could still hear ammunition cooking off periodically as he gunned the Jeep south onto 468th Ave., racing away from the first of the vans that was pulling out of the parking lot. He wanted to go north, but that would have taken him past the soldiers and given the other two GBZ-95s a shot at him, which would probably have been fatal. He’d have to go around them to the west and then go north. The Jeep had a good head start over the van, and more acceleration, and was pulling away from the van as he turned west onto North Bend Way. He went about a mile, with the van falling further behind in pursuit, before turning north onto 455th Ave. He hoped that the soldiers didn’t have radios as he turned back to the east on 140th St., because he would be passing back within about a quarter of a mile of the Travel Center on his way back past it.
Unfortunately, they did. As he approached the intersection of 140th St. and 468th Ave., he could see the other van pulling up and soldiers starting to get out. It was going to be close. There were trees on both sides of the road, and the first van was behind him, so the only direction he could go was forward. He jammed the accelerator to the floor, and his speed neared triple digits as he rocketed through the intersection. Only a couple of the soldiers were in position to shoot at him, and bullets ricocheted off and through his Jeep as he went past them. A couple more bullets hit the back of his jeep as he slowed to take the curve in front of him. Ryan had survived uninjured; the Jeep, however, wasn’t so lucky. It had been hit in several places, and the engine started to miss. He kept the accelerator to the floor as he passed Twin Falls Middle School, hoping to coax as much speed as he could out of it before it died. He knew the van wouldn’t stop chasing him, and he expected the soldiers in the other van to be coming quickly in pursuit.
He made it another mile, with the motor sounding increasingly worse. Realizing that his speed was falling off, and the motor wouldn’t last, he brought it to a stop at the turnoff to Granite Creek Road, leaving it in the center of the road to block his pursuers. Grabbing the surface-to-air missile by its sling, he pulled his Savage Model 110 .30-06 rifle from the gun rack and jogged into the forest with his weapons. He had just found a good sight line from the top of a small hill when the first van drove up. Sighting through the Leupold 3.5-10×40mm black matte scope, he focused on the driver as he stroked the AccuTrigger. The bullet hit the driver in the heart, a perfect kill shot, and the van coasted into a collision with the Jeep. As the van rebounded a short distance away from the impact, Ryan switched his aiming point to the front tire. His second shot flattened the tire, while men started spilling out of the van on the side away from him. He took the time for one more shot, putting it through the grill of the van, before he withdrew to the northeast. He didn’t know if the 165-grain softpoint would put the engine out of commission like it did a whitetail deer, but he figured it was worth a shot.
Fort Lewis Tower, Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Tacoma, Washington, 1545 PDT
“Fort Lewis Tower, Outlaw 65,” the UH-60 from the 2nd Battalion of the 158th Aviation Regiment (Assault) called. The Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk was a four-bladed, twin-engine, medium-lift utility helicopter.
“Outlaw 65, Fort Lewis Tower, go ahead,” the Chinese sergeant that was operating the tower radio replied in fluent English.
“Outlaw 65 is a flight of 8 currently 16 miles to the southeast for a full stop,” said the helicopter pilot, requesting clearance to land.
“Roger, 65, winds are 320 degrees for 10. You’re cleared to land, Runway 33.” The Chinese sergeant looked at the U.S. Army soldier standing nearby in the tower, who was being held at gunpoint by a second Chinese soldier. “Who is Outlaw 65, and where is he coming from?”
The Army corporal didn’t see any reason to lie or try to keep silent. Even if he had, he had already seen that resistance was futile; the Chinese soldier had killed his sergeant for refusing to answer his last set of questions. The corporal did not want to die and was too scared to think of anything other than the truth. “The Outlaw flight is eight helicopters that are coming back from a weekend training operation at the Yakima Training Center.”
“What is that?” asked the Chinese sergeant.
“The Yakima Training Center is a training center that we use for maneuver training, land warrior system testing and for live fire training, located about 60 miles to the southeast by the city of Yakima,” said the American corporal. “It’s a really big training area. The helicopters were down there for some maneuvers with some of the air national guard units.”
“I see,” said the sergeant. He picked up a walkie talkie and said something into it in Chinese. He obviously got the answer he was looking for, because a broad smile covered his face. “We will be ready for them,” he said.
Runway 33, Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Tacoma, Washington, 1553 PDT
The flight of eight helicopters flew in to land on Runway 33. As the lead helicopter, Outlaw 65, came in to land, its pilot, Captain Johnny Dixon, looked over at his copilot and asked, “What the hell is all that stuff?”
“I’ve got no idea,” said the copilot, Captain Steve Woods, looking at the strange tanks and surface-to-air equipment. “Maybe they’re some kind of anti-aircraft display.”
“Damn, sir,” said one of the crew chiefs, “that stuff to the right looks Chinese. They’re the only ones I know that use that blue camouflage pattern.”
The pilot looked to the right side of the field where he saw the missile transporter that the crew chief was talking about. Sure enough, the entire vehicle was covered in a digital blue camouflage, similar to the U.S. Navy uniforms he had seen. He couldn’t remember ever seeing any U.S. missile system painted in that color, nor did he remember hearing anything about a visit by a foreign service or other war game that would have brought them into town.
“Damn,” the crew chief repeated, “it almost looks like that anti-aircraft gun to the left is tracking us. What the fuck is up with that? That’s just damn creepy.”
The pilot looked back to the left and saw that there were several multi-barreled anti-aircraft vehicles. The crew chief was right; it did appear that the guns were tracking the flight of helicopters. They must be doing some training, he thought, using us as targets of opportunity. He wasn’t worried about the presence of all of the anti-aircraft defense systems, but he was very, very confused about where it came from.
Fort Lewis Tower, Tacoma, Washington, 1553 Pacific Daylight Time
“Fort Lewis Tower, Tigershark 32,” the AH-64 Apache called at the same time the Outlaw flight was coming in to land.
“Tigershark, 32, Fort Lewis Tower, go ahead,” the tower replied.
“Roger, we’re a flight of eight, 15 miles to the southeast, full stop.”
The Chinese sergeant grabbed the walkie talkie, obviously swearing in Chinese, as the guns around the field began firing.
Runway 33, Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Tacoma, Washington, 1555 PDT
The pilot of Outlaw 65, Captain Dixon, brought his helicopter to a hover at the approach end of the runway, with the rest of his flight lined up behind him, landed, and taxied down the runway a short distance before turning onto the taxiway for the transit back to his squadron’s hangar. As he keyed the microphone to talk to ground control for taxi clearance, it seemed like every gun in the world began firing at once at his flight of helicopters. The air was full of tracers as six anti-aircraft guns began sawing the hel
icopters apart; their four-barreled 25mm guns spitting cannon shells at the rate of 800 per minute. The PGZ-95s were quickly joined by the machine guns from the tanks and armored fighting vehicles, and tracers criss-crossed all around him, while several surface-to-air missiles leapt off the PGZ-95s to strike the helicopters that were still airborne and swat them from the air.
Captain Dixon knew he was in trouble. By waiting until most of the helicopters had landed, he knew that he had neither the airspeed needed to get away, nor any altitude that he could turn into airspeed. As he tried to get his helicopter back airborne and veer to the right away from the closest set of tracers, he saw that several helicopters were already burning. He avoided one set of tracers, only for the rounds from a second gun to hit the helicopter, smashing through the left side of the cockpit and killing his copilot. He felt the controls go mushy in his hands, and the helicopter flew into the ground with its engines out. Although only five feet up, the helicopter hit hard on the runway, scattering pieces of motor and rotor blades in every direction as it broke apart under the crash and continued hammering of the enemy shells. Hit in the left arm by a piece of the shrapnel that killed his copilot, Captain Dixon unfastened his restraining harness and opened the door with his right hand, while bullets and shells continued to batter his helicopter. Having turned nearly 180 degrees as he pulled away from the anti-aircraft gun, he could see that all eight of the helicopters in his flight were on the ground. While he watched, some of them began spilling soldiers, as each had been loaded with 11 soldiers in addition to the two pilots and two crew chief/gunners.
Although the troops were just returning from a live-fire exercise, Captain Dixon knew they hadn’t been expecting to go into combat when they returned home, and their rifles were not loaded. As he exited the helicopter and started running for the cover of the trees, he could see that some of the soldiers had the presence of mind to grab ammunition boxes as they exited their helicopters. A few of them had stopped to try to load their weapons in the center of the field. “C’mon,” he yelled at them as he ran by, “you’re too exposed here.” He looked back to see if they had followed, only to see a titanic explosion as a 125mm shell detonated in their midst, killing all three instantly.
He turned to see the tree line 20 yards away and hope swelled that he might make it. At 10 yards away he was distracted as one of the Type 98 tanks to the northeast suddenly blew up. He slowed as he turned to look at the source of the gigantic explosion. He neither heard nor felt the 25mm shell that hit him in the head, killing him instantly.
Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Tacoma, Washington, 1601 Pacific Daylight Time
The flight of eight AH-64D Apache helicopters led by Tigershark 32 saw flames and smoke as they approached the field, and the pilot of Tigershark 32, Major Jim Mitchell was worried that one of the Black Hawks in the flight before him had crashed. Reality was far worse than his fears, though, as he was greeted at his home field by a scene that he couldn’t have imagined in his worst nightmares. He looked down to see all eight of the helicopters burning on the ground, with a few of their troops shooting at a variety of tanks and armored vehicles ringing the field.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked his gunner, Captain Ron Heartly.
“Fuck, sir, it looks like we’re under attack!” the gunner replied.
Major Mitchell could see that there were only a few soldiers still returning fire, using the crumpled shells of the crashed helicopters as cover. The fire that they were taking, though, was coming from a variety of armored vehicles, and their personal weapons were unable to match the firepower of the 125mm, 100mm, 30mm and 25mm shells pouring in on them. Recognizing the futility, most of the soldiers gave up and began trying to run for the tree line on the sides of the field, but were mowed down within seconds of leaving the cover of the helicopters.
“Light ‘em up!” Mitchell yelled to his gunner. Switching to the radio, he transmitted, “All Tigersharks, Fort Dixon is under attack. Open fire on the armor below!” The AH-64D Apache helicopters of the 1st Battalion of the 229th Aviation Regiment (Attack) had returned from Yakima Training Center’s Selah Airstrip with live ammunition in their guns, and the sight of their comrades dying galvanized most of them into action. The AH-64D Apaches had been using the live fire range at the Training Center and had flown back armed with the ordnance that hadn’t been expended. Major Mitchell looked back to see the other seven helicopters following him into battle.
The AH-64 Apache pilots used a sensor suite under the helicopters’ noses for target acquisition and were armed with a 30mm M230 chain gun that was carried under the aircraft's forward fuselage. These were quickly put into use against the Chinese armor, and a Type 98 tank exploded under the hammer of 30mm shells from the chain gun on the nose of Tigershark 32. Mitchell wished that he had returned with some of their AGM-114 Hellfire missiles or Hydra rocket pods; unfortunately, he had fired all of his, and only the gun had any ammunition.
As his gunner switched targets, Mitchell saw that they had surprised the people on the airfield; all of the anti-aircraft guns were shooting at ground targets. As he looked, though, the closest one began swiveling its guns skyward. “Anti-aircraft gun, right, four o’clock,” he yelled to his gunner and shortly 30mm shells were raining down. He watched as it, too, exploded under the force of his guns.
The eight helicopters hovered over the edge of the field, where many of the soldiers in the vehicles below them couldn’t see them. It appeared to Mitchell that most of them hadn’t received the word that a new force of American helicopters was inbound, and it took a minute to realize they were taking fire from a different direction. During that brief time, the odds were in the Americans’ favor, and they destroyed five tanks and two of the GBZ-95 anti-aircraft guns, while only losing two helicopters.
As more and more of the Chinese armored vehicles turned their guns on the newcomers, though, the odds rapidly turned against them; they were tremendously out-gunned. A full load of Hellfire anti-tank missiles might have evened the odds, but they had none. The armored vehicles also began turning to place their well-armored fronts toward the helicopters, and the Apache pilots found it much harder to kill them. Meanwhile, they continued to have to dodge a huge volume of incoming fire, and the Apaches began falling from the sky as the remaining PGZ-95 surface-to-air missiles were put to use. Missile contrails filled the sky around the field and, within moments, there were only two Apaches left. Major Mitchell realized it was time to go. As he keyed his radio to call for a retreat, though, a PGZ-95 directly underneath him began firing. He had thought that the gun was destroyed, but it was not, and the 25mm shells sawed through the helicopter, killing his gunner and wounding him. One shell destroyed his flight controls, and the helicopter crashed down into the trees, out of control. Major Mitchell was already unconscious, though, and didn’t feel the impact that killed him.
Seeing that he was the only one left, the pilot of Tigershark 47 was able to escape to the east. The aircraft had been hit, and the pilot had to coax his aircraft along with smoke pouring from its damaged starboard engine. Unable to grasp what had just happened, the crew of Tigershark 47 decided to fly to the airfield at McChord just to the northeast of Fort Lewis. Three GBZ-95 anti-aircraft guns were waiting there and saw the smoke from Tigershark 47 while it was still several miles distant; the helicopter was destroyed along with both of its crew as soon as it came into range.
Skybolt 501, NAS Fallon, NV, 1615 Pacific Daylight Time
“Are you guys ready to go?” Commander Fred “Mighty Mite” Meadows asked the other three members of his crew. Mighty Mite, the Commanding Officer of the “Lancers” of Electronic Attack Squadron 131 (VAQ-131), sat in his EA-6B aircraft at the end of the runway, itching to go. Based on the Vietnam-era A-6 ‘Intruder’ bomber aircraft, the EA-6B Prowler had a crew of four, rather than just the pilot and bombardier of the original A-6. They sat in two rows of two, with the pilot in the front left seat and the other three seats filled by Electronic Countermeasur
es Officers (ECMOs), Naval Flight Officers who were responsible for operating the aircraft’s electronic systems and jammers. Although it had been updated and upgraded many times, the EA-6B was slow and ungainly on the modern battlefield. The venerable Prowler had been in service with the U.S. Navy since 1971 and was being replaced by a modified F-18, the EF-18G ‘Growler.’ Most of the air wings already had the Growler, but Air Wing 2 still relied on the EA-6B.
An ECMO himself, Mighty Mite was sitting in the front right seat as the mission commander. “I’m ready,” said Lieutenant Commander Robert “Bob Dog” MacKenzie, the aircraft’s pilot, from the seat to the left of him. Bob Dog was one of Mighty Mite’s department heads and a strong pilot with plenty of experience flying the aircraft. Mighty Mite knew that he could just tell him where to go or what to do, and Bob Dog would get it done without needing a lot of help.
“I’m good,” said Lieutenant Junior Grade Joe “Goggles” Sullivan from the ECMO2 position in the back of the aircraft. Relatively new to the squadron, Goggles was still learning all of the things he needed to know to be a good ECMO. He was a hard worker, though, and the Mighty Mite guessed that he would go through the qualification process quickly.
“Me, too,” replied ECMO3, Lieutenant Jim “Basket” Case. Basket was on his second tour, and Mighty Mite knew that he was a solid ECMO with a good deal of experience. He had already proven himself to have a great knowledge of both the aircraft’s combat capabilities, as well as the radar parameters of enemy systems. He would be working most of the flight as Goggles’ teacher, trying to develop his knowledge of electronic warfare principles and aircraft employment. “Hey, Skipper,” said Basket, “Do you know any more about what’s going on at home?”
Red Tide: The Chinese Invasion of Seattle (Occupied Seattle Book 1) Page 17
