Battlefield Korea

by James Rosone

  “Henhouse, this is Watchmen Five. We have good battle damage assessment from the vipers. There is only one SA-22 left at the airbase. However, we are also seeing additional armor, self-propelled artillery, and additional infantry fighting vehicles arriving at the base--looks to be about battalion in size, though that number continues to increase each hour. Requesting immediate extraction at landing zone Papa. How copy, over?” Lee spoke into the mic softly but succinctly.

  It took a few minutes before they heard a response, “Watchmen Five, this is Henhouse. That is a good copy. We are dispatching the extraction now. Expect two CH-53K Sea Stallions and four Cobra gunships, courteous of the Marines. ETA ninety minutes.”

  “Good copy, we’ll standby. Out.” replied Lee as he then turned to his team’s private net. “Heads up guys. We have an extraction inbound, ETA 90 minutes at LZ Papa.”

  Maverick looked down at the enemy troops moving towards them and made the quick calculation in his head that they would arrive before their extraction. Keying his mic, “Chief, those PLA soldiers below us our probably less than fifteen mikes away from making contact. What’s the plan?” he asked, hoping they would make it until their extraction.

  Lee sat there next to the log he was using for cover. He craned his neck and looked around the hilltop. About one hundred yards further down the hill, on the opposite side of the Chinese soldiers, the ground leveled out and there were only a few small trees.

  “What if we cut those smaller trees down and move the LZ closer to us? he thought. “This way, we don’t give the enemy a chance to take the hilltop just as our rescue helicopters start to arrive.”

  Keying his mic, “Chunk, I want you to take your explosives and head down the slope behind us. Roughly a hundred yards away is a plateau with a few smaller trees on it. I want you to rig those trees to be blown down with your C4. We need to create a new LZ closer to us, so we can defend the hilltop for the extraction. How copy?”

  Chunk turned to look back to the area Chucky had just mentioned, and sure enough there was a small plateau just large enough for a CH-53K helicopter, pending they removed a few of those trifling trees.

  “Yeah, that can work,” he thought as he smiled.

  “No problem Chief, I’m on it,” Chunk replied, and then he began to scurry away to get their new LZ ready.

  “Henhouse, this is Watchmen Five. We have enemy troops converging on our position. Estimate contact within ten minutes. We are changing the landing zone to grid November Kilo 7657 8684. It’s a small plateau near our existing position. Please advise that this will be a hot extraction. How copy?” he asked.

  They acknowledged the change in plans, and informed him that the gunships would lead the way into the area to pick them up.

  Lee then turned to Jordy, his Air Force tactical air combat controller and said, “Jordy, see what kind of air support you can raise to hit the base below and provide us with some air support, OK?”

  Jordy just nodded his head and smiled, he was already working the air support angle before CW4 Lee had even asked.

  The enemy soldiers had now advanced to within 300 yards of their current position. When they had set up their position a couple of days ago, they had placed a series of roughly twelve claymore mines in front of them. Eight of them were roughly 50 yards away, while the remaining four were less than 20 meters away. Lee, however, did not want to let the enemy get that close to them. He hoped to save the claymores for when the helicopters arrived, and they needed to bugout.

  When the soldiers got within 250 yards, Chucky keyed his throat mic, “Everyone mark your targets and be ready. When you hear me fire the first shot, open up, and let’s cut these guys down. Our choppers are now 45 minutes away. We need to make sure these guys are not able to interfere with our extraction.”

  Everyone was tense. Up to this point, they had not engaged any enemy soldiers since their infiltration. They had managed to stay below the radar, hidden, while they called in relentless airstrikes. But in a few seconds, everyone in the valley below and at the enemy airbase was about to know they were there. Lee looked down his rifle sights and spotted who he believed to be the Chinese officer in charge of the group. He was holding a pistol and yelling, pointing in the different directions where he wanted groups of soldiers to move to. As he aimed at the officer, his right thumb moved ever so slightly to the selector switch and turned it from safe to single shot. He then began to slowly apply pressure to the trigger with his right index finger, until he felt the firing pin slam against the primer igniting the cartridge and sending the 5.56mm projectile 2,841 feet per second down the length of the barrel to impact in the center mass of the Chinese officer he had just been aiming at. The officer immediately clutched at his chest and then collapsed to the ground.

  This all happened in less than a second, and it took a moment for the sound of the round being fired to reach the rest of the Chinese soldiers before they reacted. Within that fraction of a second, the eleven other members of ODA 1110 opened fire with their own weapons. The downed pilots also joined in the chorus with the additional rifles the Special Forces guys had given them. As the fourteen Americans began to pour accurate and heavy fire down on the Chinese soldiers, nearly forty of them were killed outright before they even knew what was happening.

  The remaining enemy soldiers dropped to the ground and scrambled for cover as they slowly started to return fire back at the Americans. The Chinese soldiers were now desperate to escape the ambush they had mistakenly walked into. As an officer or sergeant was identified by the Americans, they were killed off, leaving the remaining enemy soldiers leaderless at a critical moment. In less than two minutes, the enemy soldiers who were still left alive tried to break contact and began to fall back further down the hill, trying to escape the killing field.

  Five minutes after they had opened fire on the Chinese soldiers, the short engagement had ended. Now, all they could hear was the cries of agony from the wounded and the dying that had been left behind by their comrades. They could still hear some of the enemy soldiers further down the hill shouting something in Chinese, but they were unable to make it out.

  “Is anyone hurt?” Lee said over the team net, trying to do a quick assessment. Everyone reported back that they were fine, and they had only burned through a couple of magazines of ammunition. The machine gunners reported they had each burned through two 100-round belts, but were otherwise good to go on ammo.

  While the team continued to assess their situation, they spotted dozens of vehicles now heading towards the base of the hill they were on. These vehicles were undoubtedly bringing additional reinforcements.

  Chucky tried to get in touch with Sergeant First Class Obed Perez (call sign “Eagle Eye”), the ODA’s resident sniper. “Eagle Eye, set up that M82 and see if you can slow down some of those vehicles,” Lee ordered.

  “Copy that Chucky. Give me a minute, and I’ll start hitting them,” Perez replied.

  He immediately placed his M4 on the ground to the right of his position, and then unpacked and assembled his M82 Barret .50 sniper rifle. As he snapped the optics on, he placed his first 10-round box magazine in the rifle. He pulled the bolt back and chambered the first round, sighting in on the lead truck, which was carrying close to twenty enemy soldiers. He placed the red dot of his sight on the engine and pulled the trigger. The rifled recoiled hard into his shoulder, but no more than what he had expected. The half-inch round reached out nearly a mile in distance, and slammed into the engine block of the truck. A trail of smoke began to emit from the hood as the truck rolled to a stop. The soldiers in it immediately jumped out of the vehicle and started to take cover, not sure if another bullet might be aimed at them next.

  A second truck, an infantry fighting vehicle, moved around the now disabled truck and began to head towards Hill 079. The turret gunner turned his 30mm autocannon in their direction and began to fire. Everyone dropped back down behind their cover as the 30mm rounds began to tear through the trees and vegetation ar
ound them.

  As tree branches and leaves fell on Eagle Eye, he aimed at the turret, hoping he might kill the gunner or vehicle commander with his next shot. He squeezed the trigger and felt the weapon kick as his next round reached out and hit the turret, punching a small hole into it. Then he aimed just slightly to the right of his first round and fired again. He placed two more quick shots into the turret, and it stopped firing at them. He was not sure if he had killed them, but he had stopped them from shooting at his comrades and that was all that mattered.

  While he had been focused on that ZBD-04, two more opened fire with their own turrets. One was equipped with a 30mm autocannon like the first one that fired at them, and the second was equipped with a 100mm cannon. As the Chinese began to fire, a tree not more than twenty yards below them exploded. Additional 30mm rounds began to rake their position as well.

  While the 30mm gun was causing them problems, the 100mm cannon needed to be taken out first. Eagle Eye aimed at the turret of this ZBD just like he had the first one, and fired several quick rounds into the turret. He dropped the box magazine and replaced it with a fresh one. Just as he took aim at the third infantry fighting vehicle, a Type 99A main battle tank fired its 125mm cannon in his direction, its high explosive round hitting not more than 15 feet away from his position. He felt like multiple sledgehammers were hitting his back, legs and right arm. He momentarily blacked out.

  When he opened his eyes, he hurt everywhere. He tried to move his right arm, only it didn’t respond. He turned to look at his right arm and saw that it was barely being held together by some muscles and tendons. With each pulse, he saw more blood squirt out, pooling on the ground around him. “This is Eagle Eye. I’m hit bad. I need help,” he managed to say in a weak voice that was barely audible over the sound of battle.

  The team’s medic, Sergeant First Class Rich Tory (“Doc”) came out of nowhere and landed right next to Eagle Eye. “Let me look you over, Buddy,” he said as he immediately began to assess his friend’s wounds.

  “Oh, this is bad my friend,” he thought as he saw Eagle Eye’s right arm and his back. His limb was nearly ripped off and he had several deep gashes in his back. Doc pulled a tourniquet out of his bag and immediately tied it off an inch or so above the wound. He began to apply pressure on it until he saw the wound had finally stopped squirting blood. Then he started to apply several bandages on Eagle Eye’s back, pouring some quick clotting powder in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Then he pulled out a bag of plasma and started an IV.

  While Doc was working on stabilizing Eagle Eye, the rest of the team was doing their best to keep their heads down as the Chinese moved hundreds of soldiers to the base of the hill. The PLA started storming up the hill, firing at the team as they went. Just as the enemy fire was starting to peak (with the armored vehicles and tanks below adding their own fire to the battle), Jordy signaled to Lee that he had a pair of Marine F/A-18s inbound to provide support.

  The valley below and the area around the enemy airfield began to light up with anti-aircraft fire, throwing thousands of 25mm and 30mm rounds into the air. Then they heard the unmistakable sound of jet aircraft flying through the valley at high speed. Multiple 500 lbs. bombs began to land among the armored vehicles below, scoring multiple direct hits against the tanks and other armored vehicles. Hundreds of enemy soldiers who had not yet started up the hill were also caught in the bomb’s blast, killing or maiming most of them outright.

  The remaining enemy soldiers continued to advance up the hill, firing into the American positions now that they knew where they were. Occasionally, several of the Chinese would pause to launch an RPG at them. One of the downed pilots screamed out in pain after an RPG hit near him. He was yelling for a medic at the top of his lungs, clearly in agony and pain. Doc left Eagle Eye bandaged up with the IV bag of plasma, and ran over to Major Wood’s position.

  The Marine aviator had a horrible gash in his abdomen. Part of his intestines were visible, poking through the wound. He was trying to use his hand to push them back inside his own stomach.

  Doc immediately grabbed a pressure dressing from his bag and some quick clotting powder. “Woods, I need you to lay down. I know this hurts. I’m going to give you a quick shot of morphine, but I need you to lay back so I can wrap up your wound, OK?”

  Major Woods nodded in agreement through gritted teeth. As he laid flat on his back, Doc could better see the wound. He grabbed the intestines and pushed them back into the wound, pouring the quick clot over the wound and then applied the pressure dressing to hold everything in place. Then Doc grabbed the syringe of morphine, biting the cover off with his teeth, exposing the needle, which he immediately stuck it into Major Wood’s right thigh.

  He spat out the cap. “Hang in there,” he told his patient. “Our extraction chopper is not that far away.”

  Meanwhile, 30mm rounds, RPGs and high-explosive rounds from the various cannons (not to mention bullets from the hundreds of infantrymen coming their way) were filling the air with hot lead and shrapnel. Doc could hear the other members of his team viciously returning fire. They were throwing hundreds of 5.56mm and 7.62mm rounds down the hill at the enemy, in a volume of fire that far exceeded the team’s limited number of personnel. Like most ODA teams, they were punching way above their weight level, and making the enemy pay for each foot of distance they traveled up the hill.

  Lee looked over at Jordy. “Can you get us any more air support? We need them to place some bombs danger close, several hundred meters below us!” yelled Chucky to his tactical air combat controller.

  Jordy was already on the radio to a flight of Marine F/A-18s, begging for air support. “We have troops in contact--multiple US Forces casualties and in danger of being overrun. Requesting all available air support,” he said frantically over the radio net to any fighter aircraft monitoring this frequency.

  A new pair of F/A-18s heard the cries of distress. “We still have two 500 lbs. bombs each, and we will come in hot and heavy on the coordinates you provided.”

  Another pair of A-10 Warthogs came over the net, saying, “We have a full load of bombs and we can assist.” Jordy vectored them in towards their position and warned them of the enemy anti-aircraft guns near the enemy airbase.

  The F/A-18s came in first, hitting several of the armored vehicles and anti-aircraft vehicles and guns near the enemy airfield. When the A-10s arrived, they dropped a series of cluster bombs across the base of the hill and near their positions, obliterating the enemy soldiers advancing up the hill towards them.

  While the A-10s were tearing into the enemy, one of the 25mm anti-aircraft guns stopped firing at the F/A-18s and took aim at the Warthogs. Within seconds, one of the A-10’s engines was riddled with 25mm rounds, causing the engine to explode. Black smoke billowed out of the aircraft as it banked hard to the left, trying to gain altitude and move away from the anti-aircraft gun. The Warthog continued to take hits, until the pilot realized that he would not make it if he stuck around and limped back towards home. The other A-10 did his best to rake the enemy positions with his 30mm chain gun and his remaining bombs before turning to home to escort his wounded comrade back to base.

  While these attacks were taking place, they began to hear the familiar sound of helicopter blades beating against the air in their rhythmic thumping. Then, Jordy heard a call over the radio from the Cobra gunship pilots. “We are going to make a few quick passes to hit the enemy positions, so you can have cover to fall back to the LZ,” they told him.

  CW4 Lee spoke into his mic. “Chunk--it’s time to blow those charges on the trees in our makeshift LZ.”

  Seconds later, he heard a series of smaller explosions. Chunk came over the radio, chuckling. “The alternate landing zone is ready, Sir.”

  Then, the pilot in the lead CH-53 came over the net. “We are on our final approach to the LZ,” he announced.

  “Maverick, I need you to buy us some time to get the pilots on board the helicopters before you join us at the LZ.
I want to blow the claymores if the enemy gets close enough. When I give you the signal to head to the helicopters, blow the claymores whether there’s enemy nearby or not. Got it!?” yelled Chucky as he got up and began to look for the pilots.

  He ran over to Major Woods, who had the stomach injury, and began to pull him off the ground. Doc was helping Eagle Eye move to the LZ and a couple more of the wounded were also making their way to the CH-53K, which had settled down on the plateau they just cleared.

  As the wind from the rotor wash hit Chucky’s face, he felt a sudden relief as he approached the back ramp with Major Woods on his shoulder. A Navy corpsman ran forward and assisted in taking the wounded pilot from him and began to assess his injuries in the helicopter.

  Chucky sent the final message to Maverick. “It’s time. Blow the charges and beat feet back to the LZ!”

  CW4 Lee couldn’t hear the claymores going off, but he saw a small cloud of smoke rise from their old positions, so he knew they must have gone off. Then, he saw Maverick come running over the hilltop towards them. The second CH-53K was still in a low hover a couple of hundred meters behind them; the door gunner opened fire on something he saw.

  One of the Super Cobras flew in low and fast, firing off several 70mm anti-personnel rockets and using his nose gun on something. As Maverick made his way into the helicopter, the tail gunner let the pilots know they had everyone on board. The chopper immediately began to lift off and turn away from the Chinese positions and down the opposite valley.

  The Cobras stayed behind for a few minutes longer, tearing into the enemy vehicles and positions below before a pair of Chengdu J-10s flew in and blew three of the four Cobras out of the sky. Before the J-10s could go hunting for the two CH-53Ks and the remaining Cobra, a pair of F/A-18s joined the fray, and the fighters took their fight high in the sky, allowing the rescue helicopters to escape.

  Chief Lee took his helmet off and rubbed his hand through his sweaty, greasy hair with his right hand, still in a bit of disbelief that they had made it out. He was completely unaware of the enemy fighters in the area or the fact that three of the four Cobra’s had just been shot down. All he knew was that everyone in his team and the two downed pilots appeared like they were going to make it. They had been hidden behind enemy lines now for twenty days and accomplished multiple missions given to them. Now it was time to recover, rearm, and get ready for the next mission.