Lieutenant Slater was sitting in the back of the Stryker vehicle as they raced down Highway-1 to Jakarta. “Lieutenant, you think we’re going to see any action when we get to Jakarta?” asked one of the young privates. He fiddled with one of the ammo cans, grabbing an extra hundred-round belt for his M249 machine gun. The kid was young, but he was built like an ox — a true corn-fed farm boy from Kansas.
“Private Anderson, if everything goes well, we won’t have to fire a shot, and the enemy will surrender,” he replied to the obvious dismay of the young soldiers surrounding him.
Slater had to remember that these young guys had just graduated from basic training, and they hadn’t experienced the horrors of combat yet. “To be young and naïve like that again…” he thought glumly.
His radio crackled. “Alpha Four Six, this is Alpha Six,” said Captain Wilkes. “The Aussies ran into some enemy units near the outskirts of Jakarta. They’re moving now to encircle the city. We’ve been directed to head straight into the city. I’m sending you the grid. You’re the lead platoon for the company, and we’re guiding the battalion into the city. Stay frosty and lead the way.”
“Copy that Alpha Six,” Slater responded. “We’ll keep you apprised as we enter the city.”
“So, where are we heading, Sergeant?” Lieutenant Slater asked Staff Sergeant Nassem, his platoon sergeant, who was busy entering the coordinates into their navigation system. They were only an hour away from the outskirts of the city at this point.
Nassem let out a soft whistle. “You aren’t going to believe this, LT. We’re going straight for the president. The coordinates they sent take us right to Istana Merdeka, adjacent to Merdeka Square. It’s basically the Indonesian version of the White House,” he replied. The men in the back of the vehicle went through a series of emotions from excited to terrified and everything in between.
Slater knew they’d be driving into a firestorm. He immediately switched his radio frequency over to the platoon net to let everyone know what was going on.
“Listen up, Bulldogs,” he announced. “The captain just sent us the coordinates for our next objective. Our battalion has been given the task of securing the presidential palace and capturing as much of the government as possible. That means we’re going to be driving right into the heart of the city and will most likely meet resistance from the security forces assigned to protect the president and other members of the government.”
He paused for a second, wanting to let some of that information sink in. “All drivers, you need to stay frosty on this. Speed is the key to our success. I need you to do whatever you have to in order to keep us moving. We’re going to hit a lot of traffic and a lot of panicked civilians. Drive on the sidewalks, medians, opposite lanes of traffic if you have to, but do not stop. We cannot allow ourselves to get stuck and not be able to move, or worse, get trapped. If you have to run over a few cars to keep us moving or push them out of the way, then do it.”
A few of the men in his Stryker started to look a bit nervous as they overheard these instructions. It was going to be a bumpy ride.
“When we get close to the residence, I want the lead vehicle to breach the gate or walls or whatever you have to, but drive straight up to the entrance of the building,” Slater continued. “Once we’re there, whichever squad it is that makes it there, you need to secure the area. The next two squads to show up are going to breach the building, and we’ll move as quickly as possible to find the president and round up prisoners. We can do this. Out.”
“Thank God for frequency-hopping radios,” thought Lieutenant Slater. That would have made a very long transmission. Slater laughed to himself about how he’d just broken every radio protocol he’d ever been taught. Brushing that thought aside, he knew it was imperative his men knew what to do, and if breaking the norms saved a few of his guys from getting killed, then forget protocol. “I’m the guy in charge of this platoon, and I’ll run it as I see fit,” he thought, standing up straighter.
Ten minutes later as they neared the outer ring road of the city, they caught their first glimpses of combat. Several Indonesian armored personnel carriers were burning wrecks on the side of the highway. There were also a number of dead enemy soldiers strewn about the area, as well as at least one Australian armored vehicles burning along the road. When their platoon got closer to the first major ring road, they saw a couple of Australian tanks and infantrymen fighting it out with a small contingent of enemy soldiers.
Seeing the blockage forming, Sergeant Nassem got Lieutenant Slater’s attention. “Sir, we’re about to hit a major bottleneck, and it looks like the Australians haven’t fully cleared it of enemy soldiers yet. I have an idea that might work to get us around it. Before I joined the Army, I spent a year here in Jakarta as part of a study abroad program. There’s another road we can take that’s a bit more off the beaten path, but it’ll get us to Merdeka Square a lot quicker than trying to fight it out on the major roads, which will surely be roadblocked,” he informed him.
The two talked for a couple of moments and looked at a couple of maps of the city and their Blue Force Tracker before deciding on what to do. Once they had outlined the new route they would take, they entered the path into the navigation computer and sent the proposal to Captain Wilkes and the battalion CO. Meanwhile, the rest of the battalion at this point had all caught up to them as they waited on the highway for the Australian tanks to clear them a path. The enemy had apparently set up a number of antitank missiles and other vehicles to slow the Australians down. Two Aussie tanks had been destroyed along with a few other armored vehicles while they tried to clear a path.
Fifteen minutes after proposing their plan, the battalion CO came over the radio. “Lead the way,” he ordered. “We’ll follow you.”
Smiling, Slater slapped his sergeant on the shoulder. “Good job, Nassem. Now if you just spoke the language better…,” he said jokingly. Despite having spent a year there, his skills in Indonesian and Javanese were quite rudimentary. Nassem had told him that he had spent too much time during his study abroad program chasing skirts and partying with classmates. Slater had wondered how much fun those parties really could have been, given the country’s strict rules about alcohol consumption.
In minutes, their column had found an off-ramp. They snaked their way through a number of now-empty city streets. A lot of the locals had either decided to hunker down in whatever building they were already in or were moving on foot. Any military-looking vehicles moving around on the streets were being engaged by Allied attack helicopters or drones.
When they turned down Menteng Raya Street, they hit the first major obstacle of traffic. The road heading toward Merdeka Square was packed with cars, buses and other vehicles overloaded with people trying to flee the fighting. When Slater’s six eight-wheeled Strykers turned onto the road, mass panic by the civilians began to ensue. Most of these people had never seen an American infantry fighting vehicle.
Seeing the traffic problem, Sergeant Nassem told the driver, “Veer over into the opposite lane of traffic. It’s practically empty. People are trying to flee the Allied troops, not drive into them.”
As Slater’s platoon veered over to the opposite side of the road, the rest of the company and battalion followed them. They continued moving along unhindered until they got within eyesight of Merdeka Square. Once there, an enemy armored vehicle suddenly appeared and fired a slew of machine-gun rounds at them. A couple dozen enemy soldiers also emerged and fired at them as well.