by W. B. Martin
Fuller looked up at General Gale standing to the side of the table. “Well, my first question is, what are you doing in my country?”
“As your President said upon our arrival, we came to offer security and food to your distressed citizens. He was very explicit in his thanks for a mercy mission that obviously your country could not provide,” Lee answered.
“OK. We’ll leave that matter for now. Tell me why you’re laying down your arms?” Fuller asked.
“General, you have placed a naval blockade on us and you have air superiority. We have a hopeless situation. And we only came in peace to offer humanitarian aid. We did not come as invaders. Surely your people told of our work saving your citizens from starvation,” Lee said.
“Oh yes. We heard. We’ll also leave that for later. Can I expect the total capitulation of your troops then, sir?” Fuller asked.
“That may be a bit confusing General. It seems our commissar has disappeared and that our political control has broken down. Our forces rely on direction from the Party. Therefore, I can’t answer your question for other units,” Lee offered.
Ed grabbed Fuller’s attention and nodded toward the door. The two stepped out of the room.
“He’s full of it. Humanitarian aid, my ass,” Ed said. Fuller agreed that the Chinese colonel was blowing smoke up their asses, but they needed to know how to handle the other units. They didn’t want their troops getting complacent that all the Chinese were ready to surrender. The first thing that would happen would be a Chinese unit determined to fight.
The two generals agreed that they would proceed cautiously. The Division Intelligence Officer showed up and Fuller put him to work on the prisoner. He would issue orders that all units would continue to accept prisoners, but to remain alert for resistance at any time.
The Chinese troops continued to surrender as soon as the Americans showed up in their area. Thousands of prisoners happily went into captivity. Only one unit showed any sign of resistance, but that was quickly ended when the Chinese troops shot their officers. This unit then went quietly into captivity.
The real problem came in the next couple of days. With thousands of new mouths to feed, the logistical support was strained to the limit.
The big trouble that the Americans faced in the whole operation was when they ran into their fellow Americans. The units made up of criminals knew that their fate was sealed. Their resistance caused a delay in rounding up all the Chinese.
Finally Ed announced the agreement he had worked out in Idaho to get the thugs there to surrender. A ‘no death penalty’ policy to all who surrendered was broadcast. Resistance then generally collapsed and the criminal gangs nearly all turned themselves in. A few holdouts tried to escape through the American lines but they were quickly tracked down and killed.
The report of the capture of Seattle was acclaimed in Cheyenne where the governors continued to meet over the future of the country. Their enthusiasm was dulled when the next messages arrived.
It appeared that once they were away from their officers, most of the Chinese prisoners were asking for asylum. They indicated that they had no wish to return to a Communist China and that they were willing to live the rest of their lives in America.
“Seems that last message you sent has their tail in a twist,” Ed said.
“It was little shocking to me, too. What do we do with that many immigrants? And now word is getting around. The officers want asylum, too,” Fuller said.
“We have a problem there. We have locals coming forward making reports on their treatment under the humanitarian Chinese. There are some accounts to be settled there,” Ed said, “but we need to sit on all of it for now. It might help us in clearing out California.”
“I agree. The more Chinese troops who think they can stay in America if they surrender, the easier the job will be,” General Fuller said.
Chapter 25
Hamilton, New Zealand
After the fight on the Bombay Hills, the Leffingwell Family stock rose substantially. Not with the Kiwis, because they already knew why they had joined Connor Leffingwell and marched off to war. But the Americans now moved around Noel and his great-grandfather with a new respect.
While Noel enjoyed the new status accorded him by the Yanks, it didn’t change his great-grandfather’s attitude one bit. In fact, Noel noticed that it made him crankier with all the attention metered out suddenly.
“Bloody hell. A bloke can’t be alone around here. I wish these sods would just bugger off,” GG admonished to no one in particular.
“My arm is feeling much better. That Yank medic did a good job stitching me up,” Noel offered.
“I’m just glad that bayonet didn’t catch something major. I wouldn’t be allowed back in the house by your mother if something happened to you,” his great-grandfather said. It was the first time since setting off from Aorere that his grandfather had shown concern about his well-being. At least GG had stopped talking about fighting to the last to defend New Zealand.
The American arrival had helped put some hope into the situation. In fact there was more than hope. With all the different Kiwi patrols reporting on the ‘Indo’ positions in the hills, it was apparent that the commanders were making preparations to advance.
This was fine with Noel. The sooner the invaders were thrown out, the sooner he and his great-grandfather could return home.
“Noel, how’s the arm?” Major Smith asked. “I want you ready to shove off tomorrow before daylight. We have the information we need. The ‘Indo’ position is untenable if we attack right now.”
“Yes, Sir. We’ll be ready,” Noel answered.
* * *
Things began before sunrise, as the men were stirred from their sleep by the non-commissioned officers. Noel and his great-grandfather would continue to provide liaison between the Kiwi and American forces.
Noel packed their gear as his grandfather made tea. He separated out what they might need for the coming battle with things he could leave behind to be collected after the fight. Noel knew that they would be carrying mostly ammunition today and that the day-to-day things of life in the field would just slow them down.
Noel stuffed the extra things in a duffle bag that would remain at headquarters. Picking up his entrenching tool, he began to stuff it in with the extras. He hadn’t used it since their original defensive position up on the Desert Road.
“Hold on there, Noel. We don’t leave the infantryman’s ‘Best Friend’,” GG said. He reached for the entrenching tool and handed it to Noel. “You pack this for today. We don’t ever go anywhere without this.”
“But Grandfather, we haven’t used it in months and the major said we’d be moving forward today,” Noel offered.
“And when we stop, it may not be real friendly. You may learn to love this little thing today.”
“Yes Sir,” Noel said. He would humor his great-grandfather. But with the bandoliers of AK-47 ammunition he carried along with a rain slicker and a little food for both of them, he was going to be weighed down.
After a breakfast of Marmite on toast cooked over their camp stove, followed by a cup of tea, the two Kiwis were ready. At the sight of the Marmite, the Americans around them turned up their noses. The ones who had tried it never did again. The others took their buddies’ word on the culinary experience. They don’t know what they’re missing, Noel thought.
Noel watched as the Yanks finished up their Spam in a can with a cup of coffee. He had tried some of the ‘Meals Ready to Eat’ and concluded that Marmite was superior. And coffee versus tea wasn’t even close.
English Breakfast Tea with milk and sugar was what had carried the British troops through World War II. If it was good enough for his Limey cousins, it was good enough for him.
“Noel, GG, we’re moving out. We’re responsible for taking and holding the ridge you did your recon from. The Marines will be covering our right flank with the 1st Battalion of the 24th Infantry on our left. Our spot is critical as it wi
ll be the hinge on which the other forces will pivot to envelop the ‘Indos’,” Major Smith said.
“‘Bout bloody time you blokes got off your backsides. Noel and I could have taken and held that ridge with a squad last week. By now those buggers will have recognized the importance of that spot and dug in,” GG said. The major shook his head and walked off to get his battalion moving.
“Grandfather, please try to be just a little understanding of our Allies. They know what they’re doing,” Noel said.
“We’ll see, Son. We’ll see.” Grandfather picked up his AK-47, put the sling over his shoulder and let the weapon fall onto his chest. He checked the magazine to be sure it was seated properly. Noel grabbed his pack and weapon and fell in behind his great-grandfather.
The pink in the eastern sky was just appearing when they reached the bottom of the hill. Noel could tell that a Recon Team was already up on the ridge by the radio traffic. The major checked in regularly with his forward units. From the quiet still hanging over the south slope of the Bombay Hills, the advancing forces had not been spotted by the ‘Indos’.
Noel started the climb up the first hill. The growing light revealed other American and New Zealand troops around him.
“G’day mate. Looks to be a bonser day to kill ‘Indos’,” a Kiwi walking next to him offered. He carried what looked to be an antique from the 19th Century. The two men lugging the contraption saw Noel’s inquisitive look. “Maxim. Machine gun. World War I. Straight out of the Wellington Museum. Luckily one of the men from Blenheim knew where we could come up with a good supply of ammunition for it.”
Noel was taken back. We’re cleaning out our museums so we can fight, he thought. The Maxim-carrying trooper again noticed Noel’s look and again offered.
“If you think this is something, you should see what Syd over there has,” the Maxim man said. Looking over to his right he whispered. “Hey Syd, show our mate here what you have for the ‘Indos’”.
Sydney walked toward the voice. Noel noticed a man carrying an evil looking gun over his shoulder. A bi-pod swung from the muzzle end. A belt of large caliber ammunition knocked against the man as he walked. Close behind two men tried to keep up carrying metal boxes. Noel assumed they were full of ammunition.
Sydney looked over Noel and his great-grandfather. “You’re the Leffingwells. Good on you, mate. Show those ‘Indos’ what it means to try and take another man’s country.”
“What is it you’re carrying?” Noel asked.
“Oh, this little thing. My grandfather came home from the European War in 1946 with it. Told them it was for his outfit’s museum. Crikey, the bloody bastards believed him and let him bring it into the country. He’s had it well hidden ‘til he dug it up three months ago. We cleaned it up and he showed me how to use it.”
“It looks like it knows how to clear a battlefield.”
“Mate, this is the most feared German weapon of World War II. This is the MG 42 squad machine gun. My grandfather would recall the buzz saw sound of this beast when I was a kid. With a rate of 1200 rounds per minute, it throws bullets into the air with a sound every soldier on the receiving end never forgets.”
“And you have ammo for it?” Noel asked.
“Poor bastards behind me have been complaining, but we’ve got enough. My grandfather knew enough to collect plenty over the past twenty years.”
Noel found out that the Maxim and the MG 42 had been assigned to his unit to enhance their stopping power. When the Americans had left Afghanistan, a lot of the units heavy weapons had been left behind. There was limited transport to the Pakistani coast and most of the troops ended up walking the entire distance.
The major found the ridge still unguarded. The ‘Indos’ hadn’t grasped that the spot that Noel and his great-grandfather had happened upon was the tactical lynchpin of the entire hills. Major Smith began directing the troops to dig in. He spotted the best positions for the supporting machine guns.
Entrenching tools appeared and everyone started digging. Noel sighed as GG smiled at his great-grandson. Noel started digging where the old man had pointed out. Their spot was just off the top and on the backside of ridge. It would still face a secondary line of ‘Indos’ while the machine guns were dug in on the front where they faced the main defensive positions of the invaders.
The first light of sunrise broke the eastern horizon. Suddenly the air exploded in flame and steel as mortar rounds landed all around them. Noel dove for cover.
“Keep digging,” GG yelled. He was prone on the ground trying to avoid the flying shrapnel that filled the air. Noel shoveled furiously as the dirt flew out of the growing hole. More mortars arrived and Noel increased his rate of digging.
He looked up while he threw dirt out of the way and noticed men working feverishly at their own tiny spots. Dirt flew everywhere. As Noel continued attacking the ground, he heard the major on the radio calling in coordinates.
Soon sounds of outgoing mortars cracked overhead as the Americans sought out the ‘Indio’ mortar unit. Noel saw explosions on the hillside to the front of their ridge. Noel noticed the tormenting mortars slacken considerably as the American fire wreaked havoc on their enemies.
Finally the hole was big enough to get his great-grandfather into and off the open ground. Noel worked on expanding the hole to make room for himself. Accomplishing that, he started to relax.
“Make it deeper, Son. You’ll be wishing that you could reach England before the day is out,” his great-grandfather said. Noel bent to his task. He noticed as he dug that the fire had subsided with only an occasional round impacting their position.
But now he could hear the cries of the wounded. The mortars had done a job on the troops around him. Medical teams took up the wounded and began the trek down the hill to an aid station. The dead were left where they fell. Noel could see three dead Americans.
When Noel felt the hole was deep enough, he took off his pack and made sure his great-grandfather was settled. He took his weapon and shovel and crawled over the ridge to see if he could lend a hand getting the machine guns dug in. Noel knew they were critical in stopping any determined attack.
“You and GG OK?” Major Smith asked as Noel crawled by the area set up as headquarters.
“We’re right,” Noel answered. He continued forward.
He reached the position Sydney had been assigned and saw the men working hard digging. They were reinforcing the position with a few logs that the Kiwis had found in the bush. Sydney motioned for Noel to jump in as he pilled dirt against the logs.
A firing slit was created between two logs so that the gunner could have a free range of fire while being protected from returning shots. The top was open, but bullets coming from the ‘Indo’ positions would have eight inches of wood to chew through. Unless they were lucky and could hit the slit.
A single shot rang out and one of the ammunition carriers working with Noel dropped over with a hole in his head.
“Snipers,” someone yelled and all the troops dropped into their holes. Noel stared at the man as blood oozed out of the front of his skull. The back of his head was missing. Syd shoved the body aside and out of the way. He pulled his extra ammo cans into his firing pit and lined them up on the left side. They were ready to feed into the German gun.
“Let me show you how this works,” Syd said. “You may need to take over.” Syd proceeded to show Noel how to lift the plate that allowed the ammunition belt to be loaded. Once settled, Syd dropped the plate and pulled back on the slide to chamber a round. He hit the selective fire switch and pulled the trigger.
The gun fired one shot. He hit the switch again and showed Noel how to hold the belt so that it would feed smoothly. Taking aim at the ‘Indo’ trenches, he pulled the trigger.
Noel felt the belt fly across his hand as the buzz saw sound tore through the air. Syd stopped and motioned Noel to repeat what he had just done.
Noel moved over and opened the plate. He pulled out the belt and then reloaded
the gun. He followed through the steps that Syd had done and fired once. Then switching to full auto, he fired a short burst. He stopped firing and sat back to take a breath.
“It’s a beaut, mate. Those ‘Indios’ can find out what my grandfather suffered through now,” Syd said.
Noel nodded in agreement. The power of the gun was overwhelming. He couldn’t imagine being on the receiving end of such mechanized death.
Syd then showed him the padded glove needed to change the barrel after sustained firing. The heat generated by such a volume of fire required that the barrel be changed frequently in order to keep shooting. An extra barrel in a cloth case lay beside the gun. Syd looked at Noel with the look of an instructor letting the pupil know that lesson time was over. They were ready.
They didn’t have to wait long. As soon as the sun was up over the ridge, the ‘Indo’ commanders organized a response. Syd pointed out troops assembling to the left of their position. He swung the barrel around to make sure he had a clear field of fire in that direction. He sat back satisfied and waited.
Noel indicated that he wanted to check on his great-grandfather and crawled out of the log pit. He stayed on his belly as he headed back over the ridge to his own hole where Grandfather brewed tea.
“I missed you, Son. Anything new going on about?” GG asked.
“I got lessons in machine gun use.”
“Good, that may come in handy later.”
“The ‘Indos’ are gathering. Syd figures for an attack soon,” Noel offered.
“Time to get things moving, I say. Have a cuppa and then we’ll join the lads,” GG said.
Finishing their tea, they grabbed their weapons and ammunition and crawled over to the front of the slope. As liaison, they weren’t assigned a fighting position. Other troops would watch the back side of the ridge.
They both dropped into the headquarters redoubt hidden in some trees. A quick hole with logs had been dug and Major Smith was on the radio with the main headquarters in Hamilton.
