BOOM, BOOM, BAM.
Explosions blared off in the distance, almost like the grand finale of a Fourth of July fireworks show. When their boat entered the Zhujiang River Estuary, Slater saw several small islands on either side of the LCM, and realized they were nearing their target. His battalion had been assigned the job of capturing a host of small islands throughout the Zhujiang River Estuary and the mouth of the Shenzhen Harbor.
In front of them, two Navy littoral combat ships and several Cyclone patrol boats led the way. A couple of destroyers had even moved into the waterways with them. Looking behind them, Ian saw at least twenty of these Mike Boats following them in.
While their boat got closer to one of the islands, the sound of machine-gun fire and explosions emanating from the nearby cities grew in intensity. The night sky filled with antiaircraft fire. Green and red tracers crisscrossed back and forth across the sky, chasing after high-flying fighters and ground-attack planes and helicopters.
The thumping rotor blades of hundreds of helicopters filled Slater’s ears — the battle for the industrial heartland of China was now in full swing. It was spectacular to see such an awesome display of war machines and military power, but also terrifying. He knew that tens of thousands of enemy soldiers were lying in wait to kill him and his fellow soldiers.
“Five minutes!” shouted the boat commander.
Lieutenant Slater turned his gaze forward. The island before them grew in size as they got closer. Shrouded in the pre-twilight darkness, the landmass looked ominous, shadowy and unknown. Seconds later, several starburst rounds from one of the escort destroyers erupted over the top of the island, illuminating it in magnesium brilliance for them to see what lay in wait for them.
When their boat got within a hundred meters of the shore, green tracers started to reach out for their boat. Several of the rounds hit the front hatch, bouncing harmlessly off. Another string of rounds fired from a higher elevation came in at shoulder height, hitting several unlucky soldiers before they even made it to the beach.
The bottom of the boat scraped against the gravelly beach, and the front hatch dropped. Ian’s soldiers raced off the boat as quickly as they could up the beach to the waiting arms of enemy machine guns.
Ratatat, ratatat, zip, zap, BOOM.
Green and red tracers strafed back and forth between the two lines of warriors, intermixed with mortar rounds, hand grenades and antipersonnel mines as the two sides fought the desperate battle of life and death.
“Take that bunker out!” shouted one of Slater’s squad leaders.
Pop, swoosh…BAM.
One of his soldiers had fired his AT4 rocket, successfully blowing the machine-gun bunker apart. First Squad charged forward while Second and Third Squads laid down covering fire. When First Squad made it to the first line of enemy defenders, his soldiers jumped right into the enemy trench line, foxholes and machine-gun positions, letting out a guttural howl. The fighting quickly devolved into brutal hand-to-hand combat.
As First Lieutenant Slater ran toward the trench line with Fourth Squad, he saw several of his young privates and specialists using their bayonets against the enemy defenders. He witnessed one of his soldiers get shot point-blank. Another was stabbed to death by a PLA soldier. A few of them had thrown their rifles down to use their trench knives in close-quarters combat. This battle was already gruesome.
“Behind you, LT!” shouted one of his soldiers. Slater turned to see a wild, crazy-eyed PLA soldier screaming as he lunged at him with his own knife in hand. Slater twisted his torso just enough to miss the soldier’s blade, but not before the soldier plowed into him, knocking his rifle from him. The two of them fell to the ground, and the PLA soldier landed on top of him. Slater grabbed at his own trench knife, pulling it from the strap on his IBA. With as much power and speed as he could muster, he rammed the blade into the side of the Chinese soldier’s rib cage, feeling at least one bone crunch.
The soldier let out a guttural scream and tried to pull away from Slater’s blade. As the knife ripped itself out of the man’s chest, a geyser of blood erupted, spraying Slater’s uniform. The enemy soldier staggered backwards and fell.
A loud roar of voices suddenly overtook the other sounds of war, intermixed with many high-pitched whistles. Slater got back to his feet and grabbed his rifle, and as he did, he spotted a swarm of enemy soldiers charging down toward them from further inland. Surveying his immediate surroundings, Slater saw that most of First Squad was either dead or wounded. Half of Fourth Squad was in the same shape.
“That’s a lot of enemy soldiers!” yelled Sergeant Starr, Slater’s platoon sergeant. The remnants of Second and Third squads jumped into the enemy positions they had just cleared.
“We need some damn fire support! Where’s the rest of the company?” shouted Slater.
“Get those heavy weapons unleashed on that mob!” Sergeant Starr yelled to the squad leaders.
“Mitchem!” shouted Slater to his RTO. Seconds later, Specialist Mitchem plopped his body next to Slater, holding the hand receiver to the radio out to him.
Zip, zap, zip, zap, crump, crump.
More bullets flew over their heads. Some hit the sandbags right in front of them. Dropping to a knee, Slater grabbed the radio. “Ronan Six, this is Ronan One-Six. My platoon’s secured Objective Alpha. I need help or we’re going to be overrun!” he shouted.
BOOM, BOOM!
Slater lifted his head above the lip of the trench and saw several large explosions erupt amongst the enemy soldiers charging toward them. Many of the PLA soldiers were now seeking shelter amongst the shrubs, underbrush and secondary line of defense they had built. Despite that turn of fortune, the rate of enemy fire being directed at his men was tremendous. That kept his troopers’ heads down, which would mean that squads of enemy soldiers would soon be bounding forward toward them again.
“Ronan One-Six, this is Ronan Six. Good copy. Hold your positions. Charlie Company is hitting the beach as we speak. They’ll move forward to assist. Out!”
Shaking his head, Slater knew the other platoons must be in as much crap as they were. Sneaking a quick look behind him, he saw another wave of Mike Boats landing. “That must be Charlie Company.”
Looking to his left, Slater shouted to Sergeant Starr, “Have the guys on your side of the line start laying covering fire for Charlie Company as they rush off the beach toward us.”
Slater then dashed down to his right, making sure his guys were firing at the enemy. When he found one of his soldiers who’d been shot in the gut, just below his IBA, he stopped briefly to help get a pressure dressing set in place before moving on.
“They’re charging!” shouted a young private, who was only maybe five meters from Slater’s position.
“I need you to hold this in place, Private,” said Slater hastily. “I’ve got to get back to killing them before they overrun us.” The poor kid was bleeding pretty bad, but he just nodded through gritted teeth and unstrapped his Sig Sauer, in case he needed it.
Looking at the enemy charging again, Lieutenant Slater saw what must have been several hundred enemy soldiers rushing toward them. “Where do they keep coming from?” he thought with a mixture of awe and fear.
Raising his rifle to his shoulder, he sighted in on one guy and squeezed the trigger. Pop, pop, pop, pop. Enemy soldier after enemy soldier dropped as he carefully aimed each shot. A couple of the PLA soldiers got back up and resumed their charge; clearly some of them had been issued body armor. Slater changed his aim and pointed more toward their guts or midsection, where the body armor usually stopped. “Aim small, miss small,” he thought, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves as he continued firing. Slater’s only goal at this point was to slow the enemy soldiers down until their own reinforcements arrived.