Admiral Cord wanted to slap him for his smugness but knew she couldn’t. “Not good enough, Captain,” she exclaimed. “Try explaining that to me again, without the sarcasm. While you’re complaining that we nearly lost half a squadron of Hornets, you just lost seven hundred paratroopers we were charged with protecting. Do you know how that’s going to look to the brass above me? You’d be wise to remember crap rolls downhill until it goes splat on someone.” She took an open right hand and smacked her left fist, so as to emphasize that he would ultimately be the one in the hot seat.
His demeanor changed a bit. “Good,” Admiral Cord thought. Maybe he did realize that the naval air support planning for this operation was ultimately his responsibility.
“My apologies, Admiral,” Captain Grady said. “Let me start over. The Air Force went in ahead of us and cleared out the SAMs. They did a good job, although they lost a couple of F-16s in the process. We sent in two squadrons of Hornets, one ahead of the transports to go with the AC-130 Spectre gunship. The gunship was supposed to silence the enemy antiaircraft guns and the radar station on the ridgeline around the airfield. Unfortunately, the gunship was shot down before it reached the airfield. When this happened, we redirected two German Eurofighters who hadn’t dropped their ordnance yet to go in and do the job. That’s when the PLA Air Force jumped our guys with those new fighter drones.
“As I said earlier, we had never fought or even seen them before, so we had no idea how effective they were in combat or how to really engage them. From what I’ve been able to gather from talking with one of the flight leaders that fought them, they came in two waves. One from high-altitude and one on the deck. The one that came in from high altitude drew all the attention from our fighters. The one that came in from the deck was able to slip past the first wave of fighters and sliced into our second group of fighters, which was escorting the transports. By the time our guys fought them off, half the transports had been shot up,” he explained. Then he proceeded to tell her of his revised plan for escorting the second wave of transports, which were just crossing into Chinese airspace.
Admiral Cord listened while he spoke without interrupting. “All I can say, Captain Grady, is that your group had better redeem itself with this second wave of transports, or there’s going to be hell to pay. You get me?” Her voice was still full of heat.
He nodded and went back to his section, barking orders to his own little fiefdom.
Brigadier McCoil handed the receiver over to his lone American naval special warfare guy who would act as the liaison for his air support. “I think I got their attention for you, Lieutenant. It’s now your show. Get me air cover over this place, and start taking out some of these anti-aircraft guns. Our second wave of transports arrive in exactly eighty-two minutes.”
A young captain ran up to their position. “Brigadier?” he asked, out of breath. “Sir, we’ve secured the remaining buildings at the airfield. We can move your headquarters over there now. Also, Baker Coy from 2nd Battalion is moving to assault the radar station and those AA guns on it,” he reported. As soon as he finished speaking, he took a swig of water to help catch his breath.
McCoil nodded. “Good job, Captain. Now help me up and give me a hand making my way over there,” he replied, holding his hand up to the captain.
The young officer looked down at the brigadier, and it was as if he realized for the first time that the general had his foot all wrapped up in a compression bandage.
“Ah, yes, now you see why I’ve been propped up against this tree trunk instead of leading the charge myself,” Brigadier McCoil said with a chuckle.
The captain pulled him off the ground and placed his arm around his shoulder. Together, they hobbled and walked the half a kilometer to the building that would function as his headquarters. Dozens of other soldiers were working to get communication antennas set up, along with computers, map boards and everything else he needed to run the brigade. Another group of soldiers worked on getting security established around the buildings they were going to occupy and making sure the airfield was being properly cordoned off from potential enemy soldiers as well as curious civilians.
McCoil looked around. The soldiers around him were clearly doubling their efforts to make up for their lack of personnel. With half of their first wave of airborne units killed before they even made it to the ground, they were functioning with a skeleton crew as they worked to get the place ready to receive the main body of the brigade.
Lieutenant Shay ducked behind a tree just as several bullets slapped into the trunk. “Someone take that gunner out already!” he shouted to his platoon mates.
Private Flowers heard the order and immediately took action. His SA80 had a grenade launcher attached to it; he was one of the few guys in the platoon with this setup. He popped out from behind the tree he’d been hiding behind and swiftly fired his 40mm grenade at the enemy machine-gun position.
Thump…BAM.
“Now!” shouted Corporal Wright. He and three other soldiers opened fire on the enemy position while another group of four soldiers leapt from their covered positions to charge. Continuing to fire at the enemy, the advancing fireteam of soldiers got to within twenty meters of the enemy line when they dove for cover. Another group of PLA soldiers further up the ridge had just arrived and were doing their best to provide their comrades with covering fire.
“Grenades! Hit them with grenades!” shouted Lieutenant Shay. He ran past Corporal Wright, charging up the hill to the fireteam that was lobbing grenades at the enemy soldiers.
Zip, crack, zip, crack, crump, crump, crump.
Explosions burst everywhere as both sides lobbed grenades at each other. Wright’s fire team continued to bang away at the enemy soldiers with their FN Minimi Para light machine gun.
Ratatat, ratatat, ratatat.
“Alpha team, covering fire!” shouted Wright. He signaled for his bravo team to move forward.
Zip, crack, zip, crack.
Bullets snapped past their heads, hitting branches, bushes and everything around them as they rushed forward.
“Oomph,” one of the soldiers muttered — he was spun sideways when a couple of rounds slammed into his body armor. Falling to the ground, the soldier yelped, “I’m hit, Corporal!”
Wright stopped charging. He dropped down next to the wounded man, quickly assessing him. “It looks like it hit your armor — did it go through the plate?” he asked.
The young man looked panicked. He used his hands to feel around and then shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he answered.
Corporal Wright didn’t blame the young kid — even through the plates, a gunshot could break ribs or cause some serious bruising. “Listen, Private, I’m going to leave you here while you catch your breath and recover. I need you to keep shooting at the enemy. We still need your help. Do you think you can do that for me?” Wright asked, concern in his eyes and voice.
The young private nodded and gave a thumbs-up. “You can count on me, Corporal. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll catch up to you guys.”
Wright nodded and then raced to catch up to Bravo Team. When they made it online with Alpha, they switched turns, providing covering fire while Alpha bounded forward, this time into the enemy defensive works. Once Alpha Team was inside the enemy trench and foxholes, Bravo Team rushed forward to join them.
It took them another ten minutes to finish clearing the enemy out of the radar station and the enemy antiaircraft guns, but their platoon had secured an objective that had been assigned to an entire company of Gurkhas. That was no small feat for the men of 2nd Battalion, Baker Coy.