“Our paratrooper element near the San Vicente area hit the American Marines hard. They nearly wiped out a whole battalion of Marines before they were ordered to withdraw. So far, the paratroopers in that region are holding the Marines from moving too far inland. However, the battalion of regular infantry we stationed at Fort Mag lost control of the base to an air assault by the Marines. They’re trying to organize a counterattack, but it’s going to be hard to dislodge the Americans. They’re moving a lot of troops and equipment to the airfield,” replied Brigadier General Wang, to the dismay of everyone present.
They had hoped to retain control of Fort Mag for a couple more weeks. If the Americans were able to establish a solid foothold there, they would be able to move on Clark International Airport and cut the top portion of the Island of Luzon in half. It would hasten their defeat if the Americans were allowed to hold Fort Mag for very long.
“Send a message to the airborne units in the area,” ordered Hu. “They’re to pull back and, if possible, retake Fort Mag from the Americans!”
Battle of Fort Mag
Six hours after securing the initial airfield on Fort Mag, Captain Tim Long and his company had moved over to the small village of Palayan City, less than two kilometers from the airfield, to set up a defensive perimeter. Long hated the idea of using the local church as his headquarters, so he set up in a nearby building and opted to use the church as a field hospital, should they need it.
Throughout all the fighting, running, stopping, shooting, and the couple-kilometer trek through the heavy foliage to their current position, Captain Long hadn’t had the opportunity to take a proper bio break. He hadn’t eaten in nearly twelve hours or had nearly enough water to drink — both of which were probably the saving grace for how he had been able to hold out as long as he had — but now that they had a few minutes to think, he found the time to take care of some “proper” officer business. While seated on the lone toilet in the building, which surprisingly had running water, Long heard the sound of a vehicle approaching his headquarters.
“God, I hope that’s First Sergeant Madero and not a hostile vehicle,” he thought.
Finishing his business, he reached into his cargo pocket, pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer, and liberally used it on his hands. If he were to survive the next few minutes, he didn’t want to catch any unnecessary germs.
Walking out of his command building, Long saw the outline of the JLTV coming around the bend in the road toward them. In the front seat, he spotted his first sergeant and one of the privates who had gone down to the airfield on foot with him a few hours ago. Clearly, they had found transportation on the way back. Captain Long breathed a sigh of relief and then waved to them as they came to a halt in front of the small three-room building. The private got out and immediately went to the back of the truck to begin unloading its contents.
“I see you found a new set of wheels, First Sergeant?” Long asked jokingly.
“My dogs are killing me. If you thought me and this private were going to hump all that ammo back here, you’re crazy, Sir,” Madero replied in good humor.
“What did you guys manage to scrounge up?” asked Long.
“Aside from the list of ammo you gave us, I was able to pry away five 100-foot strands of concertina wire we can use to set up the roadblocks. I also grabbed us roughly thirty additional Claymore mines, about the same number of trip flares, and additional IV bags for the corpsmen,” explained First Sergeant Madero with a smug smile of satisfaction written across his face.
Captain Long had to laugh at the man’s resourcefulness. The guy had more connections within the brigade than he’d thought possible. Long was very fortunate that he had been given an experienced first sergeant when he had been promoted to captain. He hated to admit it, but he relied on the old guy far more than he probably should have.
“Good job, Top. I still can’t believe you managed to snag a vehicle. See if you can make another supply run before it gets dark. I want to make sure we have everything we’ll need before nightfall. I have a feeling it’s going to be busy,” Captain Long said, hoping he might be wrong and they might catch a break. Word had it their sister battalion that had hit the beach had run up against a brick wall and gotten mauled. He hoped they hadn’t taken too many casualties.
“Yes, Sir,” said Madero. He and a few other Marines nearby began unloading the supplies.
As Captain Long’s men continued to fortify their various positions around this small village, he looked back in the direction of the airfield. He was happy with what he saw — several heavy-lift helicopters were sling-loading a battery worth of 105mm Howitzers.
“Those may come in handy once they get set up,” Long thought.
More Ospreys were flying in, dropping off what seemed like an endless supply of fresh Marines from the troop ships offshore. No one knew for certain when the Chinese attack would come, or what direction it would come from, but one thing was certain — the enemy wasn’t going to leave them unfettered at this base for long.
Captain Ma Qiliang was exhausted. He hadn’t worked this physically hard since he had gone through airborne training nearly six years ago. Following what was, by all accounts, a very successful ambush of the American Marines, his company had been ordered to fall back before they were pulverized by the American warplanes. Hiding those 152mm Howitzers in the hills to use as tank busters had been proven to be a brilliant move.
He felt immensely proud of how well his men had performed. They had shot down five enemy helicopters and three ground-attack aircraft, and mauling that battalion had been exhilarating. However, as great as he felt about how badly they had hurt the Americans coming ashore, the unit that had been assigned to defend Fort Mag had apparently been wiped out by heliborne troops. When his command had finally been able to get through to him, they’d ordered his company to withdraw from their current locations and move to attack the Americans at Fort Mag.
Pulling out his map, he looked at his current position in relation to the location of Fort Mag. “Ugh, that’s got to be close to thirty kilometers away, and it’s through some fairly rough terrain,” he thought.
Under normal conditions, his men could travel that distance in six hours. However, they had just spent the morning fighting the Americans, and now he was going to force them to march thirty kilometers and fight a much larger group of Americans.
“Well, at least this group at the airport won’t have tanks,” he thought.
“Captain Ma, it’s 0200 hours. The men are exhausted. Can we let them rest for a few hours before we press any further?” pleaded his senior sergeant. “We should be approaching their perimeter, if they have expanded beyond the airfield.” Ma usually deferred to his senior sergeant in these matters. After fifteen years in the 43rd Airborne, he tended to know just how far they could push the men before there would be problems, and he had earned Ma’s respect.
Ma stopped walking and nodded in agreement. “Order the men to stop and set up camp. I want a 360-degree perimeter and one-third of the men on duty at all times. We’ll roll out again at 0515. That gives everyone roughly three hours to catch some sleep before we move to contact with the Americans.”
While his senior sergeant got the men spread out and issued the instructions for the evening, Captain Ma and his two lieutenants looked at the map under a poncho with a red light. “We have to be really close to the Americans,” one of the officers said as he marked their exact location on the map. They were roughly four kilometers from the airfield at this point.