His other two soldiers took the cue and did the same thing. Then Price reached down and slowly turned the door handle, almost holding his breath as he did it. The other soldiers had expressions on their faces that registered both fear and adrenaline-fueled anger. None of them were sure what was waiting for them on the opposite side of the door.
As he pulled slowly on the doorknob, Price saw a string of cars parked against the outer and inner walls of the parking garage. Toward the far side of the garage, he saw a smoking ruin of a car and a couple of dead bodies.
“That’s what our grenade launcher just hit,” realized Sergeant Price.
Suddenly, they heard the ratatat of a heavy machine gun opening fire, along with several voices shouting in Chinese. A couple of AK-74s joined the chorus of death blasting out to the rest of their platoon mates. Price reached down and grabbed a hand grenade off his IBA and signaled for the others to do so as well. The three of them each now had a grenade in one hand and their rifles in the other. On the count of three, he was going to pull the door all the way open and they would toss their grenades at the remaining PLA soldiers, wait for them to go off, and then charge toward them and finish them off.
“One…two…three…”
Boom, boom, BOOM!
“Now!” Price shouted as he raised his rifle to his shoulder, advancing toward the enemy. He pulled the trigger in single-shot mode, one shot after another. One of the stunned Chinese soldiers who had fallen over from the blast reached for his sidearm just as Price rounded the corner on him, leveling his rifle and pulling the trigger three times — two shots to the chest, and one to the head. Seeing that these PLA soldiers were wearing body armor, it was a good thing he had gone for the headshot.
“Clear!” yelled the specialist who had the grenade launcher.
“Clear!” yelled his other sergeant right before he fired a single shot. “OK, clear now,” he clarified as he walked around a shot-up Mercedes-Benz.
“All clear,” echoed Price as he pulled a purple smoke grenade from his IBA. He pulled the pin and tossed it further down the row of cars away from them. He wanted to signal the rest of the platoon that they had taken out the enemy position, so they wouldn’t accidentally shoot them.
A crackle came over the radio, intermixed with static. “Price, is that your smoke?” called Captain Martinez.
“What color do you see?” he quickly replied. They kicked away the weapons from bodies of the dead enemy soldiers.
“Purple.”
“That’s us. It’s all clear,” Price answered. “Send the rest of the platoon over. We can set up our machine guns on the opposite side as we continue to push the perimeter out. We should use this structure as a stronghold, just like the PLA did to us.”
A few minutes later, the other squads of their platoon began to filter into the garage. One of the squads set up on the ground floor, pushing some of the cars to block the various entrances to the garage, acting as barricades. A different squad set up a machine-gun position in each of the corners of the west side of the garage as well as one facing the north side. The next squad did the same on the third floor while their lone sniper team found a way up to the roof to set up their perch.
With their position firmly established, the other platoons of their company advanced past them to their right and left flanks, securing the final perimeter positions. They’d stay put now until the 82nd Airborne bubbas got themselves organized and relieved them. Once that happened, they’d head back to the center of the airport and await their next assignment.
The C-130 cargo plane had finally lined up for the approach to the drop zone, and as far as Staff Sergeant Moshe Dayan was concerned, it was not a moment too soon. His butt was starting to go numb with all of his gear on, and his parachute rigging was cutting into the circulation of his legs, crotch and hips. They’d been in the cargo plane now for two and a half hours as they droned on toward the Chinese coast to participate in what would probably be hailed as the largest airborne invasion in human history, or at least since World War II.
Paratroopers from America, Britain, France, Italy, Germany, Poland, Japan and Israel were going to carry out a series of jumps around the Shanghai area, capturing several airports, key bridges and ports as the Allies sought to end the largest war in history. As an Israeli paratrooper, it felt incredibly strange to be partnered up with so many Allied nations to parachute into China; Israel had never participated in any sort of large-scale military action this far from their own country. It was also a stark contrast from the inordinate number of training scenarios and exercises the Israeli Defense Force had put them through during his six years of service thus far.
“Ten minutes!” shouted the jumpmaster from the back of the plane, breaking Sergeant Dayan’s momentary reflection.
Standing up along with the others, he attached his chute to the static line hanging above him, just as he had done in countless other jumps. He then proceeded to go through the various checks and processes that all paratroopers go through as they prepare to jump. He felt the tugging and pulling of the soldier behind him, checking his rig and chute as he did the same for the guy in front of him. The process helped to take your mind off what was about to happen as you became focused on the multistep checklist of preparing to jump.
As they neared their drop zone, the side doors to the cargo plane opened, letting a rush of air into the cavernous cargo plane. The cool summer air felt good as it circulated around Dayan, drying the sweat on his face, neck, and arms. It was still somewhat dark outside, although the predawn twilight was starting to break through the darkness, heralding the day of days as their commander had told them today would be.
It was a proud day for Israel and its military, and it was an even prouder moment for the 35th Paratrooper Brigade as they had been given a very important task. They were to secure the primary road and rail bridge that connected the mainland with the enormous container port several kilometers off shore. The deepwater port and facilities would be critical to the Allies’ ability to offload the thousands of main battle tanks and other armored vehicles that would be needed to capture the Shanghai region. More than 800,000 Allied soldiers would be participating in this operation.
“Get ready!” shouted the jumpmaster. The red jump light next to the door suddenly turned on.
Dayan looked at the other soldiers with him — excitement and apprehension written on their faces. They probably all felt a bit like him, psyched up and ready, but also nervous about what was waiting for them when they landed. The intelligence briefing they’d been given said there was a PLA motorized infantry battalion stationed roughly ten kilometers away from their drop zone. Other than the lone battalion of enemy soldiers, they had been told that they might encounter local police but should not meet any serious enemy resistance right away. The nearest major PLA unit was an armor brigade, fifty kilometers to their west. That unit would be stuck trying to decide if they should go after the Americans who would be capturing the Shanghai International Airport or the paratroopers looking to capture the port facilities.
With the cool morning air swirling around inside the cargo hold of the plane, the jumpmaster next to the door shouted, “Go, go, go!” as soon as the jump light turned green. Dayan made his way forward.
Soon he was out the door, the wind swirling all around him. He felt the sudden jolt of his ripcord pulling his parachute out of its pack, the wind and gravity doing the rest of the job of expanding his chute. Looking down at the ground, Dayan saw he was quickly approaching what appeared to be an empty grass field not far from the water. Then he spotted the bridge his unit was charged with securing.