Invasion: China (Invasion America) (Volume 5) (47 page)

Festival of Lights

Participants
: Harold, Militia General Williamson.

Transcript #2 takes place near a band of cheering people.

HAROLD: This is in the strictest confidence, General.

WILLIAMSON: You can count on me, sir.

HAROLD: I know I can. We can no longer speak in the Rose Garden. I believe someone has planted listening devices superior to what my people can find.

WILLIAMSON: Would you like me to work on discovering the culprit?

HAROLD: That’s a good idea. You can begin once you carry out this assignment. (Long pause.) We’re going to send another draft of soldiers to China. I managed to convince the others to transport another one hundred thousand Americans in the first wave, and two hundred thousand in the second.

WILLIAMSON: Those are large numbers, sir.

HAROLD: It’s a political risk, I know. What I want from you are lists. We’re going to continue to send the politically untrustworthy to Manchuria. If they die, they die—as long as they kill enough Chinese to bring Hong to his senses. We must get rid of the Chinese Army in Mexico, now more than ever.

WILLIAMSON: Do you wish me to speak with Premier Konev again?

HAROLD: Yes, that would be wise…

End of transcript #2

WASHINGTON, DC

While under her blanket in bed,
with a strong scent of roses around her, Anna clicked off her flashlight. Before putting the tablet under her pillow, she removed the chip. She put the chip in her mouth, got up and went to the bathroom. While sitting on the toilet, she blew her nose, spitting the chip into the tissue. She dropped that between her legs and flushed.

Afterward, she lay down, thinking. Harold culled the military of the patriots. That was clear. Just as clear, Levin didn’t like what Harold did. The CIA director was building a conspiracy
against the most powerful of the three dictators. She wondered if Levin had spoken to McGraw or Alan about this. Or would those two want the patriots out of the way as Harold did?

She didn’t envy those soldiers, nor did she believe they could conquer China, even with Russia’s help and even with nearly five million Chinese soldiers
out of the way in Mexico. The country was too big and the numbers too great for conquerors to establish garrisons everywhere while the rest finished the battles.

America was quickly becoming enmeshed in a war it could never win.

What can I do about it?

Levin had taken a risk
coming to her for a reason. Yes, he must want her to wake and rehabilitate David if she could. How could she, though? That was the question. Her eyelids kept lowering, shrinking her area of vision, until she fell asleep thinking about it.

WANBAOZHEN, JILIN PROVINCE

Jake panted. He clutched Cowboy’s right arm and Chet had his left. They dragged the wounded soldier. Enemy mortar shells slammed against the ground, blowing geysers of shrapnel, rubble and dirt. Jake heard hissing past his head and couldn’t believe nothing hit him.

Then the back of Cowboy’s neck spurted blood. His helmeted head dipped far too forward, practically dragging against the ground.

By unspoken agreement, Jake and Chet dropped him, and they both flattened. More shells screamed down, slamming against the earth. Pieces of rubble rained like hail.

“Over there!” Chet shouted.

Jake scrambled on his hands and knees, panting harder than ever. He crawled and threw himself behind a masonry wall. Chet did likewise.

The mortar attack continued another several minutes. Then it stopped, and an eerie silence descended.

“Think they’re trying to trick us?” Chet asked.

“Don’t know,” Jake said.

It was July 17, and the war had changed. For one thing, regular Chinese soldiers fought in the front lines. The word Jake heard was they came from overseas—not from Mexico, but from Japan, Indonesia and other Asian countries. And he couldn’t swear to it, but it seemed as if the regular Chinese people had been issued with revolvers and rifles. The civilians didn’t attack with just hand grenades anymore.

“Now,” Jake said. He rose to his knees and laid his assault rifle on the concrete wall. Sure enough, some enemy soldiers dashed hunched over toward them. Jake pulled the trigger.

The enemy dropped. He didn’t think he’d hit any. These boys knew to stay low to the ground.

Chet and he were the rearguard today. Battalion had entered Wanbaozhen. They were attempting to clear the urban areas north of Changchun, getting ready for the big city assault.

The Auto City, as Changchun was nicknamed, towered in the hazy distance. The Russians had been closing in from the northwest. The US 3rd Army Group came straight down from the north, still using the G1 Expressway as its main supply route.

This wasn’t going to be anything like Harbin. Giant tank traps fronted Changchun, and plenty of Chinese soldiers and partisans filled the provincial city. If little old Wanbaozhen was a precursor of Changchun, taking out the city of eight million was going to the mother of all bitches.

Chet pulled a pin, stood and hurled a mag-grenade. It tumbled through the air. Machine gun bullets hammered at him. He threw himself down.

Jake also pulled back, and they crawled along the concrete wall. Steel-jacketed 12.7mm bullets began punching through it where they had been.

The mag-grenade
crumped
. A Chinese soldier began screaming. Chet had a gift with those.

Crouched behind the half-wall, the two men stared at each other. Black dirt coated Chet’s face. He looked like a raccoon with his staring eyes. Jake was sure he looked just as haunted.

“Too bad about Cowboy,” Chet said.

“Yeah.”

They’d been losing men in the squad, the platoon, heck, in the battalion. Everyone wanted the infantry for something. Clear this place, garrison that town, go check out the woods and make sure there’s no guerilla camp at the location. Jake heard the commanders were requesting more infantry battalions from the States.

“One more time,” Chet said.

“They’ll be waiting for it.”

“I know. But we have to keep them honest.”

Suddenly, Jake’s mouth was dry. It was too hot. He hadn’t figured Manchuria for an oven. Fumbling in his kit, he pulled out a heavy mag-grenade.

“One, two, three, now,” Chet said.

Jake pulled the pin, gathered his nerve for the millionth time, and stood up. Chinese soldiers sprinted for their position. One of them shouted, pointing. They’d been headed for the old spot. Jake drew back his arm and heaved.

Two grenades tumbled through the air. Jake could see one of the Chinese opened his eyes as wide as could be.

Then Jake ducked behind the wall, and he crawled again, away from the wall this time.

Crump, crump
, and lots of screaming and shouts in Chinese for medics.

“They’re going to shell us again,” Chet said.

“Let’s run!” Jake shouted. He climbed to his feet, and he sprinted. He almost twisted his ankle, and that might have been the end of it. His boot slid off a piece of concrete. But he’d laced his boots up all the way. The leather held, and he continued to run.

They both made it around a bakery as mortar shells rained where they’d been.

A last IFV waited for them. To Jake, it seemed like paradise, the entrance to Heaven. His chest pounded and the air hurt his throat. But he had no intention of stopping.

The IFV’s 30mm began to vomit tongues of flame as the gunner fired at Chinese soldiers.

Almost sobbing with effort, Jake dove into the back. Chet followed on his heels. The IFV revved and took off as the back began to close.

Sweat dug runnels through the grime on his face. Hands pounded Jake’s back, and he found himself laughing with relief.

The extent of the resistance in Wanbaozhen had surprised all of them. This was new for the Chinese. If Jake had to guess, the enemy meant to hold Changchun at all costs.

It looked as if it might be a meat grinder. Well, they’d have to take the places like Wanbaozhen first.

The IFV took the squad a mile to where the rest of battalion waited.

Then the US Army brought the 155s to bear. As Jake ate a hot meal and washed his face, the tubes thundered. He shaded his eyes at times, watching buildings crumble. Sure, the artillery might kill some of the defenders, but they were going to make it impossible to drive IFVs and tanks through the place. In would turn into a mini-fortress of rubble.

“Is this what Changchun is going to be like?” Chet asked.

“We didn’t move fast enough,” Jake said. “The Chinese had time to get their professionals home.”

“Enough of them?” asked Chet.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “That’s the question all right.”

A whooshing sound and a roar came from overhead. He looked up. Three sleek bombers raced for Wanbaozhen. They climbed as they stretched past battalion’s position. Jake hadn’t seen too many aircraft lately.

The bombers dropped fuel-air bombs. Giant canisters tumbled from their bays. A titanic blast and then another and another seemed to lift Wanbaozhen into the air. After that, the place became an inferno. Oily black smoke billowed. Soon, Jake could smell the stink.

“Are they going to want us to go back into that?” Chet asked.

Jake stared at him.

Chet nodded. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a stupid question.”

It turned out battalion went in an hour later after the fires had died down some. The IFVs crept toward what was left of Wanbaozhen. As they neared the outskirts, the metal vehicles surged ahead.

A dog raced in the path of one. The driver swerved, but it didn’t help. With a howl, the dog disappeared under the tracks.

Soon, the IFVs disgorged their soldiers. Body-armored Americans begin picking their way through the ruins. Black frameworks smoked. Electrical wires lay everywhere, one of them sparking.

Jake nervously stroked his assault rifle. He tried to look everywhere at once. Maybe those had been the
new
air fuel bombs dropped on Wanbaozhen.

“This is incredible,” Chet said. “I’ve never seen damage like this.”

“Maybe we
can
take Changchun,” Jake said.

“Don’t know about that. If the Chinese try to hold onto the city, they’re going to fill it with antiair platforms.”

Jake kept looking here, there. The hot sun beat down on the carnage. It illuminated dark corners. A soldier with his helmet had melted features. His teeth looked more like animal tusks.

In the very center, battalion found resistance. Lieutenant Wans told them how it would go. The platoon trudged through rubble and charred wood, finally swinging around to come in from behind. Battalion encircled the last Chinese, and it cost them three wounded and two dead to kill forty-eight desperate soldiers and civilians.

“They’re not surrendering as fast as they used to,” Chet said.

“I noticed,” Jake said. Then he looked south at Changchun’s spires. How many Chinese cities would it take before their platoon was slowly but remorselessly whittled down to nothing?

CHANGCHUN RING EXPRESSWAY, JILIN PROVINCE

The night battle for the northern part of the Changchun Ring Expressway burned hot for 10th Armored Division and the rest of V Corps.

The G12, G1, G102 from the north and the S101 from the northeast joined around Changchun in an expressway that circled Auto City. Instead of waiting inside Changchun, Chinese heavy tanks came out to battle the approaching Americans as interior city artillery supported them.

According to American and Russian intelligence, the Chinese Fifth Army and elements of Ninth Army had reinforced the Twenty-third Militia Army and hundreds of thousands of newly armed civilians.

Stan’s armored division led the American attack as they knocked on the city’s front porch. The Russians were swinging west of Changchun in hopes of encircling it.

Sitting in his command tank, Stan was close enough to the action that he heard the clang of Chinese sabot rounds gonging off Jeffersons.

Stan pulled out every trick he could think of. He rained steel on the tri-turreted tanks, closing in on them, fighting almost toe to toe. He learned the Chinese had reinforced the glaces, and for ten minutes of frightful exchanges, the two sides killed one for one of each other.

Stan blinked first, pulling back. He didn’t want to lose all his armor. The Chinese tank commander gave chase, big T-66 monsters leaving the expressway to follow the retreating Jeffersons.

As Stan lurched about his command tank, he gave an order he didn’t want to. “I need the Cherokees.”

The last six attack helicopters of his maneuver battalion lofted, racing into the engagement from the flank. They hovered sixty feet above the ground, and their Hellfire IIs began to slow down and then destroy the heavily armored tri-turreted tanks.