“Tanks to our left!” shouted Cortez. He turned the turret to line up with the target he had found.
Diss looked through his commander’s sight extension, trying to see what Cortez had found. “There you are,” he muttered under his breath as he watched the laser designator light up the turret.
“Tank, 3,100 meters to our nine o’clock. Sabot!” Cortez shouted in an excited voice.
“Sabot ready,” replied Specialist Trey Mann, the loader. He pulled up on the arming handle. They’d already been riding with a sabot round in the chamber.
“All Mustang elements, Type 96 tank identified to my nine o’clock. Identify your targets and fire at will!” shouted Captain Diss. Then he took a deep breath — they were about to go into battle with the People’s Liberation Army for the first time.
Finished with his company address, Diss shouted, "Fire!"
"On the way!" Sergeant Cortez yelled. The enemy tank had just crossed the 3,000-meter mark, the extent of their effective firing range, so he dutifully depressed the firing button.
BOOM!
The cannon fired, recoiling back inside the turret. The vehicle rocked slightly but kept right on charging toward the enemy.
Looking through his commander’s sight, Captain Diss watched their round slam right into the turret of the enemy tank, causing an epic explosion. Pulling the zoom out a bit on his sight, he saw round after round of his other tankers slam into the exposed turrets of the enemy tanks. Nearly every one of them scored a direct hit.
The three enemy tanks that had survived their first volley fired back. However, they were near the extent of their limited range, and all the rounds that came toward Diss and his soldiers either sailed past his tanks or bounced harmlessly off their superior armor.
Specialist Mann slammed another sabot round into the breach of the cannon and pulled up on the arming handle. “Up!” he yelled.
Delta Company’s tanks continued to rumble through the farm fields to the southeast of the city as they closed in on the enemy positions. “Missiles incoming!” shouted Cortez as their vehicle ran over a rough patch of land, jostling them around a bit.
“Black Six, this is Red Four. We’re spotting swarms of Red Arrow-12 AT missiles heading toward us from the city to our right flank,” explained Lieutenant Spade. “How do you want us to respond?”
“Crap, that’s the last thing we needed right now — antitank missiles,” Captain Diss murmured.
“All Mustangs, Red Four is reporting antitank missiles swarming us from the city on our right flank. I want everyone to activate your missile countermeasure devices and Trophy systems. Some of these missiles are going to get through the MCD, so let’s hope these Trophy systems are as good as the Israelis say they are. In the meantime, I want everyone to shift our movement further southwest into the enemy lines to give us some more distance from that city,” Captain Diss ordered.
Crump, crump, crump. Boom!
More explosions vibrated the ground beneath them, this time moving them so much that the company of tanks nearly veered directly into each other.
“ZBDs to our front! 2,200 meters!” shouted Sergeant Cortez. They were less than a thousand meters from the first line of enemy tanks they had wiped out earlier; now they were pressing into the second and third layer of enemy vehicles.
“Loader, HEAT!” shouted Diss. He zeroed in on the newest threat to his command.
Specialist Mann grabbed a round from a different stash this time, slamming it into the opening as fast as possible. “Up!” he yelled.
“HEAT ready!” shouted Cortez.
“Fire!” Diss shouted. Then he immediately began to look for other targets nearby.
“On the way!” Cortez exclaimed. The cannon fired again, and the cabin of the tank was filling with fumes.
“Incoming missile!” Diss shouted seconds after they had fired. He quickly reached over and flipped on the MCD and Trophy system.
“That missile’s gonna be close!” yelled Cortez. He grabbed desperately for something, anything, to brace for the impact.
Seconds later, the Trophy system activated, firing out its barrage of ball bearings at the incoming missile. BAM…the tank got peppered with shrapnel and pieces of the broken-up missile as its sheer velocity threw the remains of its shell into their armored hull.
“Wow, that Trophy system really works!” exclaimed Specialist Mann. He had the wide grin of a man who has been given a second chance at life.
Sergeant Cortez just shook his head, his face a little white from the near-death experience.
Captain Diss, unaware of his gunner’s ghostly appearance, said, “Take over, Cortez, I need to get back on the company net.” He looked at his video display of where his platoons were on the map.
“Red Four, this is Black Six,” Diss began. “Give me a status on that missile swarm that was headed your way.”
A couple of seconds went by before he heard a reply. “Black Six, this is Red Four. The MCD and Trophy system worked amazingly. I lost Red Three, but he was the only one to have taken a hit out of what had to be ten or more missiles fired at us.”
“Good copy, Black Six, out.”
Next, Captain Diss called out to his FIST team for help. “Black Eight, this is Black Six. I need two fire missions. How copy?”
“Black Six, this is Black Eight. Go for first fire mission.”
“Fire mission, fire mission. Grid NC 7642 5642. One round, ground burst HE. Tanks and ZBDs hull down. Stand by for second fire mission. How copy?”
“Black Six, this is Black Eight. Good copy on first fire mission. Go for second mission.”
“Fire mission, fire mission, Grid NC 3253 7642. Six rounds, ground burst HE. PLA missile teams hunkered down at the edge of Hatong Expressway. How copy?”
“Black Six, stand by on that last fire mission.” A few minutes went by before the FIST team came back on. “I’m getting a negative approval on that last mission. It’s in a heavily populated civilian center. Can you readjust fire mission over?”
“Stand by, Black Eight,” replied Diss angrily.
He changed channels to his company net. “Red Four, this is Black Six. I need you to contact Black Eight and relay the coordinates you saw that enemy missile swarm originate from. Apparently, the coordinates I gave them are in a heavily populated civilian area. Get them a better grid, and lay four to six rounds on top of them. 1–5 and 1–9 Cav are following right behind us, and I don’t want them getting ambushed by that group that hit you. How copy?”
A couple of beeps could be heard on the SINCGARS radio before it synced. “Copy that, Black Six. I’ll get them for you. Out,” came the reply.
BOOM!
Their cannon recoiled once more as Sergeant Cortez continued to call out targets and Specialist Mann kept loading the gun.
Captain Diss continued the work of managing his platoons until he was stopped by an incoming call. “Black Six, this is Mustang Six. How copy?” It was his battalion commander, breaking his train of thought.
“Good copy. Send,” he replied. His mind was racing a million miles a minute just trying to keep track of his platoons and the artillery mission he had just called in. They were quickly approaching the second enemy line of defense.
“Good job on finding a way around Binzhouzhen and the ski resort,” Lieutenant Colonel Johnson praised him. “God only knows what the PLA had waiting for us along the highway. I’m going to need you to continue to scout us a way either back on the Tonga Highway or the expressway — whichever road you think will get us to our objective without taking a ton of losses. How copy, Black Six?”
“Good copy, Sir. I don’t suppose it’s possible to get a couple of scout vehicles sent up to my position?” Captain Diss asked.