Most of the men had never seen real combat — the training camps and joint exercises could never compare to the fighting they had just been through. At times the men were fighting hand-to-hand with knives and their bare hands. This sort of fighting hadn’t been seen since Vietnam, a war that was ancient history to most of them. Over the course of these few days, the morale of the men had gone from gung-ho bravado to resolute doggedness to desperation and, finally, to pure survival. The kind of survival instinct that none of them had even known they had. It couldn’t be described as a sense or knowing, more of a deep vibration at each person’s core. Though their bodies were spent and their minds numb with depletion, there was still this vibration. None of them spoke of it. There was no time to dwell on introspection, but each recognised it as their will to survive.
Cowell tried to think of his wife and two daughters but he couldn’t. His mind refused to bring up their images. It was as though his mind was protecting him, not wanting their memory in any way associated with this hell. He was happy to let sleep take over and relieve him of the moment.
‘Major,’ he heard faintly. ‘Major!’ louder this time. Layers of noise came to him — the sounds of artillery, the commotion of men with gear. Opening his eyes he could see Corporal Higgins’ battle-scarred face close to his own, yelling his name. It was night, but flashes of artillery constantly broke the darkness. Suddenly he was starkly aware of where he was and his ears registered the exploding sounds even faster. His vision sharpened and he was suddenly very much in the present.
‘Major! We’ve got orders to move out!’ yelled Corporal Higgins above the artillery.
‘What’s going on, Corporal?’ Cowell rubbed his dirty face.
‘Sir, HQ’ve posted new orders.’
‘Christ,’ said Cowell tapping on his wrist mounted screen reading the orders, ‘this has to be a last-ditch effort,’
‘Sir, the men are ready to move out —’
An artillery round exploded nearby, showering them with dirt and making them curl their bodies into a ball, protecting as much of their flesh as possible.
‘—but they don’t have a lot left in the tank,’ yelled Higgins, resuming the conversation as he straightened up.
‘Corporal, this is it. This is our last chance to push the enemy back,’ yelled Cowell above the artillery.
‘Yes, sir! So what’s the plan?’ replied Higgins.
‘Men,’ Cowell yelled to the others in the foxhole, ‘huddle! We have an objective and it is imperative we achieve it. We are to advance on the Chinese forward post, here.’ He pointed to the digital mapscreen unfurled on the ground in front of them. ‘We will have artillery support and B Company will be flanking the post to our left, so watch your friendly fire and remember that our guys are out there, too.
‘Okay, Corporal Higgins, I want you to take your section out to the right 200 metres before flanking the Chinese post. Be careful, we don’t know if the Chinese have moved into position out there. You may stumble upon enemy fire. If you do, retreat and come up behind us. Our objective is this forward post. Nothing else. Understood?’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Higgins.
‘Right. The rest of you are with me. We move quickly and silently up to this point. Here we wait while our artillery boys hammer the hell out of them. When they’ve had a good dose of Aussie fireworks we go in and clean up while Higgins’ team causes confusion on the right and B Company sweeps through on the left. Any questions?’
The men were stoic and silent. They were experienced enough to know that what the major had just explained to them was going to be difficult, if not impossible even though he described it like it was a straightforward operation. But they had been conducting similar operations in the last three days, all of which had ravaged their battalion.
Higgins knew that this was another insane operation that the commanders deemed necessary. He knew it was all pointless — he knew it right from the start of the defence, when he’d been sent from the Darwin US Military Base, where he’d been enjoying the cushy posting after some tough tours of duty in the Middle East and Africa to help out the Aussie forces. But soldiers simply do, they don’t question, postulate or consider, even if it’s someone else’s country they’re fighting for. Ruthless execution of orders and fulfilment of your mission at all costs was what his sergeant always said during his training. Here he was and he would do exactly that, no matter what the cost.
‘Set Higgins?’ called Major Cowell.
‘Yessir,’ replied Higgins through gritted teeth.
‘Then let’s have some hustle. C’mon — move out!’ said Major Cowell through his clenched jaw.
Corporal Higgins looked into the faces of his four remaining men, Jones, Jameson, Cahill and Davis, nodded grimly and moved them out silently over the top of the foxhole with no dramatics. The Chinese either didn’t see them or were waiting to see what they were up to, as there was no hail of bullets. ‘All right men, follow me, heads down, eyes up. Let’s go!’
Higgins crawled along the dirt and sand. There was little cover in the desert and the Chinese used sophisticated night vision and thermal-imaging head-gear that meant they could spot the enemy over a hundred metres away. There was nowhere to hide in the desert, nowhere except the odd shrub or occasional rock — and the shrubs couldn’t stop a well-thrown pebble.
What the fuck have we got going on here? thought Higgins. The going was slow and painful, crawling over rocks and hard-packed dirt. After about one hundred metres he checked his wrist-mounted GPS for their position on the attack map. Another hundred metres and he would make a 70-degree turn to the left and start heading directly towards the objective. Their artillery was pounding around them. The Chinese were certainly taking a hammering. It would stop soon though, and that would signal their turn.
After another hundred metres on their chests, Higgins stopped, rechecked his GPS and made the turn. Crouched low, he moved as quickly as possible — eyes straining to stay at the top of their sockets, ears aching with concentration, skin raw and prickly as a cold sweat layered his filthy skin.
Just another 20 metres then we’re in position, he thought to himself.
Come on! Ten more now, little bit further…
Finally in position, he tapped his GPS screen, sending a coded signal to the major and B Company announcing that they were in position and ready. The artillery had stopped now. Over his earpiece the major’s voice came through with crystal clarity, ‘Okay, we’re moving in. Higgins, give it 60 seconds then commence your assault.’
‘Copy that,’ responded Higgins.
He heard the crackle of the machine guns and the muzzle flashes from what looked like hundreds of rifles from the Aussie side.
Sixty seconds. Forty-five seconds. Thirty seconds, he counted down to himself, watching the firefight just a few hundred metres away from his men.
‘Fuck this, let’s go!’ he yelled as he lifted himself, heaving his body armour. Raising his fully automatic RP-12 assault rifle to his shoulder, he moved forward at a slow but methodical pace. The sound of his men behind him doing the same comforted him.
Moving more quickly now, Higgins and his men were almost running when he saw out of the corner of his eye the flashes from rifles and heard the distinct whine of Chinese bullets passing within centimetres of his head.
‘Down!’ he yelled, falling straight to his chest and turning to the right, the direction of the fire. Taking aim, he cleared a few rounds in the direction of the muzzle flashes.