Back at company headquarters, the company commander shut down the channel. “Well Sergeant Major, what do you make of that?”
“I think the Japanese chose the wrong time of the month to invade Sir.”
Headquarters Section, Japanese 2nd Battalion, 143rd Division
The setting sun stained the Rising Sun flying over the golf course bright red. Major Kisoyoshi Utsunomiya stared around at the airfield that had finally fallen to his men. The gathering gloom was punctuated by the reddened skeletons of the buildings that had been burned down. He couldn't see that well, one half of his face was covered by a bandage where a fragment from a rocket had torn him. He knew what the Doctor knew but wouldn't tell him, that eye would never see again.
But the golf course had fallen at last. The enemy rearguard had held until the last, buying time for the rest to escape. They had darkness on their side now, the Japanese prided themselves that their infantry owned the night but catching a retreating enemy on their own turf was not part of that. Anyway, he didn't have the men left. He'd started with more than 700, now 391 were dead and a couple of hundred more badly wounded. It had been the airstrikes that had done the real damage. The ground troops had fought bravely but they weren't professional infantry. It was those damned invincible Ostriches that had done it with their bombs and rockets and guns.
“Sir! A trophy! They left the flag in the hole.”
All infantryman was pulling the flag from the 18th hole on the golf course, a long pole with a Thai flag on one end. Utsunomiya frowned, golf course markers didn't normally have national flags on them. Then his mind went into overdrive and he screamed out a despairing “No!” It was too late. The anti-personnel mine hidden under the green threw its ball a meter into the air before it exploded, spraying fragments in a vicious arc. Utsunomiya felt the thump in his legs as some of the metal cubes struck home. His fourth wound of the day, he thought grimly. Then he felt resentful. Surely there was a rule against booby-trapping a golf course?
First Army Circle Headquarters, Ban Masdit, Recovered Provinces, Thailand
“Sir, Its General Chaovalit. From Ninth Forward Command.”
General Songkitti grabbed the phone from his aide. “Van. Can you hold?”
The phone crackled a little before the voice came through. “Yes.”
“Lord be praised for that. Can you hold the line unassisted for another day? Our plot shows two Japanese divisions have crossed.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. But we've got all four regiments on the line now. 19th and 29th are holding the line and even pushed the Japanese back a little. 39th and 49th took longer to move up but they were in position by sunset. If Laum Mwuak hadn't held
out as long as it had.......” Songkitti bit his lip. The news from Laum Mwuak had been grim. The airfield captured, the airfield defense company, 120 men, wiped out to the last man. At least half the other air force personnel gone. The rest trying to take their families out through the jungle. Chaovalit was still speaking. “And the aircraft of course. We couldn't have done anything without them. But we've the whole division on the line now and based on today, yes, I can buy you tomorrow,”
Songkitti's eyes were on the map. There was a thin line of blue pins now, marking the kidney-shaped bulge of the Japanese incursion. 16 kilometers deep at it’s thickest. Five at the thinnest by Laum Mwuak. Tomorrow was the critical day. The Second Cavalry was arriving in Phnom Penh overnight; they'd be forming up to the east of the Japanese kidney. And to its west, 11th Infantry was also slowly moving up. If 9th could hold for that one day, he'd be able to counter attack north and south, cut the Japanese force south of the Mekong off and envelope it. Today had been close run, all too close. The militia had held just long enough, Laum Mwuak had held just long enough, the Ostriches had done just enough damage and together they'd bought enough time for the 9th to come on line. Now, if he had one more day, he could start to put this right.
“I don't know if we'll have air support tomorrow. We had air superiority all day today, I don't know why. Can't guarantee we'll have it tomorrow. Anything else I can send you?”
“Replacements, always replacements. And if you've got any more officers like that woman you sent to 29th, get them up here. Prad thought you were mad sending a woman but she's been out there kicking butt and taking names all afternoon.”
“I'll shake some more personnel loose. And some 150s. Thanks Van.” Songkitti hung up and turned to his aide. “You hear that? That's the one I threatened to have dragged out of here by her hair. You think she'll hold a grudge?”
“Don't they always, Sir?”
Chapter Three Solutions
Flight Deck B-36H “Texan Lady”, 50,150 feet over the Nevada Test and Experimental Area
“Alex, did you hear what the 509th Composite pulled yesterday on Mannie Fernandez's Chain Lightnings?”
“I missed the briefings last night. Chief Designer Mikoyan was advising us on his visit to North American. But I have heard Major Fernandez was not in a happy mood. Also that his aircraft did not perform well.”
“They did as well as any I suppose. But the 305th were scheduled to do their pre-raid penetration only the 509th played a wildcard. They put one of their GB-36s. Guardian Angel up there instead of a Recon Rat. When Mannie's F-58s came up to play, the GB-36 crew waited until the fighters had topped out then dropped their Goblins on them. Mannie's birds were at 43,000, hanging on their props, and the Goblins just shot them up while the 58's were struggling not to stall and spin out. Camera gun shots are a sight to behold. All six down, then Guardian Angel swept down picked up her fighters and climbed up again. Mannie wasn't happy about that, says in a real strike there would have been more fighters around to prevent the pick up. Right too I suppose.”
“Guardian Angel, isn't she one of the ones that saved your ass over France.” Major Clancy was riding in the pilot's seat with Colonel Dedmon in the aircraft commander's position and Guards-Colonel Aleksandr Pokryshkin as co-pilot.
“That's right. Trynn Allen's bird. Guardian Angel, Sweet Caroline and Golden Girl aren't allowed to buy their own beer any time they come up to Kozlowski. Not when they pulled our nuts out of the fire after some crazy fighter jock, no offense Alex, blew our port wing to hell. He missed with his rockets but got lucky with cannon-fire. We were losing altitude and there were long-wing Messerschmitts waiting for us. Then those three turned up and blew the reception committee away for us.
“Blohm und Voss, not Messerschmitts. It was originally a Messerschmitt but Blohm und Voss took it over when Messerschmitt pigged up the design work.” Pokryshkin spoke absently as he got used to the feel of the B-36. “There are a couple at Ramcnskoye, our designers are looking them over.”
“Boss, we're picking up a contact. Single fighter burning sky, 660 miles per hour. Climbing fast as well. Much faster than anything we've picked up to date. Whoa, 7.600 feet per minute.”
“That must be the North American XF-86A. They told us it would be joining the exercise today. It is 50 kilometers faster than our MiG-15 but the Aluminum Rabbit climbs faster. I do not think we should worry though. Both aircraft will run out of climb some distance below us.”
“Thanks Alex. Any word on the problems with the MiG-15? Argus, keep an eye on that contact alert us when it crossed 40,000 feet.”