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Laughing at the comment, Slater shook his hand. “Sure thing, Sir. Besides, your wife said she’d kill me if I didn’t make sure you returned home,” he replied. The two chuckled briefly before one of the other sergeants walked up to them and told them the rest of the platoons were ready to move.

Twenty minutes went by before one of the crewmen from the ship said it was time for them to file up the ladder that would take them to the flight deck. The 260 soldiers of Alpha Company made their way up three levels through the ladder well until they emerged through a side door on the superstructure that opened up to the flight deck. Once there, they were greeted with the smells of jet fuel and seawater, and the roaring engines of dozens of helicopters.

The sun had just crested over the horizon, bringing the new day to life. When Lieutenant Slater walked out onto the flight deck, the morning twilight revealed nearly a dozen V-22 Ospreys and CH-47 Chinooks, along with lines of infantrymen feeding into the flying chariots of war. Slater stood to the side of the door once he exited and encouraged each of the soldiers in his platoon to move forward to the helicopter they were being directed to. One by one, the soldiers exited the stairwell and made their way to one of the Ospreys. When the last soldier of his platoon exited, Slater got back in line and followed them.

His platoon was being filtered into two of the tiltrotor aircraft. This was the first time Slater had ever flown in one of these new types of helicopters, and he had to admit, he was pretty excited. He had flown in Blackhawks and Chinooks, but never an Osprey. Ducking his head out of instinct as he approached the loading ramp, he walked into the cargo bay and found the last seat, next to the landing ramp and the rear door gunner/crew chief.

Within seconds of getting settled into his seat, the Osprey lifted off the deck along with the other helicopters and turned toward land. Slater looked out the ramp; he was amazed at the sight of the warships below them. He had never seen so many different types of ships. Looking back at the soldiers in his platoon, he saw that many of them were as impressed with the display of naval might as he was. A few of his men were whispering prayers or playing with their rosary beads, and otherwise engaging in any other ritual they felt might help keep them alive.

While the Ospreys picked up speed, Ian saw dozens upon dozens of other helicopters fall into formation. He also spotted a number of Super Cobra gunships at the fringes of the formation, probably their escorts. Twenty minutes went by, and then the helicopters dropped down low, flying just above the water.

The sun had finally risen above the water, revealing more of the world around them, as well as the danger they were now about to fly in to. When their armada of helicopters approached the coasts of Java, small black puffs of smoke appeared in their midst, shaking nearby aircraft and throwing shrapnel in every direction. This was quickly followed by bursts of green tracer fire crisscrossing back and forth across the sky. The attack helicopters that had been escorting them broke off and engaged the enemy guns.

The crew chief and tail gunner closest to Lieutenant Slater turned to him and signaled they were now two minutes away from landing. Slater turned to his soldiers and gave them the same message. Most of the soldiers either gave him a thumbs-up or nodded in acknowledgment.

The Osprey turned hard to the left as they flew over the beach, which gave Slater an exceptional view of the city, intermixed with enemy tracer fire and black pillars of smoke on the ground. Before Slater knew what was happening, the Osprey flared its nose up hard and then landed with a thud on the ground. The door gunner signaled for everyone to get off the aircraft quickly.

Lieutenant Slater ran off the aircraft and quickly darted toward a cluster of trees near the junction of Highway 1 and Highway 5, which ran from the port city of Cirebon to Jakarta, 197 kilometers away. Looking behind him, Slater saw the rest of his platoon was quickly following him to the tree line. Once they were all off the Osprey, it took off and headed back to the ship they had just left.

Once they had all fanned out inside the trees, Slater directed the squad leaders to get a perimeter set up. They needed to move quickly and get their roadblock established and dig in a defensive position. His platoon had been charged with setting up a roadblock on Highway 5 and making sure no one was able to get toward Cirebon. The other platoons were setting up positions on Highway 1 and the town around the road junction.

One of the sergeants began to string a roll of concertina wire across the two lanes of traffic that headed toward the coast. They left the other two lanes open for the moment — if people wanted to leave the area, they were more than willing to let them. Their orders were to not let anyone head to the port city, but they were not about to stop anyone from leaving it.

A couple of his soldiers found some vehicles and drove them to the coiled wire, using the vehicles to help act as a barrier. A few vehicles that saw their roadblock approached them cautiously, apparently not aware at first that they were American soldiers and not Indonesian units, and asked what the roadblock was being set up for.

When Slater looked over and saw two of his soldiers having a very animated conversation with one of the drivers, he signaled for their lone translator to come with him to investigate what was going on. As they approached the vehicle, where the argument was growing louder, Lieutenant Slater saw more and more vehicles were approaching the checkpoint.

This isn’t good,” he thought.

“What’s the problem, Specialist Tailor?” Slater asked. “Just tell them to turn around and go back where they came from.”

Tailor sighed audibly. “I tried that, Sir. He doesn’t want to listen, and I can’t speak whatever language it is they speak here,” the soldier said, clearly frustrated with what was going on.

Shaking his head, Lieutenant Slater walked up to the vehicle with the translator. At this point, the driver looked like he suddenly had an epiphany and said in broken English. “You American soldiers?”

Slater snorted and pointed at the American flag patch on his uniform. He turned to his translator. “Tell this guy that, yes, we are American soldiers. He needs to turn around and go back to wherever he came from. He cannot travel down this road.”

The translator and the driver conversed rapidly in their native tongue. The driver was clearly furious that he could not continue down the road, but eventually, he turned around and left. This scenario played out a few more times before the rest of the drivers figured out they could not drive down this road and turned their vehicles around.

Four hours later, after they’d turned away a lot of angry drivers, a column of Australian tanks and other armored vehicles traveled down the road toward them. They slowed briefly, and then passed through their checkpoint, continuing down the road that would eventually lead them to the capital city of Jakarta. It was hoped that if the ANZACs and Americans could land forces quickly on Java, they could make a mad dash for the capital and potentially capture the government during the ensuing confusion.

An hour after the first column of armored vehicles passed their positions, a second armored column followed the first, and then a long supply convoy followed them. Ten hours into the landings, the vehicles for Alpha Company, Third Battalion, 81st Infantry Brigade finally arrived, and they were able to hand over their roadblock position to a military police unit while they did their best to try and catch up to the ANZAC forces that should by now be encircling the capital. It was hoped they could convince the government to surrender the city, rather than forcing them to have to fight it out. By surrounding the city quickly, they could prevent any local military units from reinforcing it or coming to the aide of the government. The key to this operation was speed.