The news was genuinely shocking. Gutierrez had been a poster boy for the modern Army, a man with connections, a man on the rise.
Brown explained, “The public didn’t appreciate the loss of Teatime Hill. The news is blasting across the U.S. The network military commentators are predicting that Citadel will fall within the next few hours.”
Unable to keep an acidic tone out of my voice, I asked, “If they didn’t want someone who was wrong on Teatime Hill, why are you in charge, sir?”
Brown glared. “I might have done things differently if I had been in command.”
I merely snorted in reply. Brown said, “I’d shit-can you right now if I could Concitor, but you seem to have a guardian angel.”
He pointed to his laptop, which had CNN.com open. “Someone in the press got wind of your bayonet attack. They were under the impression you ordered it on your own initiative.”
“Wonder how they got that impression, sir,” I mused.
Ignoring that barb, Brown continued, “You’re becoming something of a celebrity, Concitor. We’re getting bombarded with interview requests from around the world. The Pentagon is eager for some good news to counteract the loss of Teatime Hill. You’re it. You’re getting a battlefield promotion to colonel, and you’re the new second-in-command of the brigade.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Second-in-command to you, sir?”
“That’s right,” Brown said with a grimace. “But I don’t want to deal with you around headquarters, so the Pentagon decided to put you in charge of the thousand-soldier reserve. I’m running the defenses, you command the mobile reaction force.”
That was even better news than the promotion. Seeing a flicker of satisfaction on my face, Brown added, “Don’t break out the champagne quite yet, Concitor. Your first job is going to be figuring out how to stop Colonel Fong.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“He was the first commander of Unit One, the Chinese special forces unit that fought off the Lafayette Initiative. Apparently, he got promoted up after that, and they put him in charge of planning the Chinese attack on Teatime Hill. And… well, look.” Brown turned to his laptop, clicked on a story, and turned the screen to face me.
The screen turned to a video interview with a PLA officer with a trim, strong figure, sharp cheekbones, and piercing brown eyes. The CNN interviewer was an attractive thirty-ish woman with a vaguely Mediterranean look.
The interviewer said, “We’re joined now by Colonel Wu Fong, the commander of the PLA forces that took Teatime Hill. Colonel Fong, how did you come up with your surprise attack strategy?”
The colonel gave a photogenic smile and answered in good English. “I can’t tell you all the specifics, Christina, but whenever I’m in command, I look to the teachings of Sun Tzu. ‘A general is skillful in attack whose opponent does not know what to defend; and he is skillful in defense whose opponent does not know what to attack.’”
The CNN reporter laughed. Even after a half-century of globalization, I couldn’t believe that an American reporter could laugh about a battle where hundreds of Americans died literally hours after the fighting was over. “I guess that proved pretty true. There are also reports that you were responsible for a Chinese special forces operation two days ago that all but destroyed the Lafayette Initiative. Is there any truth to those rumors?”
Fong flashed a smile again. “We don’t discuss those matters. My time with Unit One was well spent, and I look forward to continuing to serve the People’s Liberation Army to bring freedom and unity to the People’s Republic of China.”
“I understand,” the CNN reporter said coyly, leaving little doubt that Fong had just confirmed the rumors. “One question asked by many of our viewers is what terms of surrender would you accept from the American garrison of Pinglin?”
Fong answered as smoothly as a politician reeling off talking points. “The People’s Republic believes in the honorable treatment of prisoners. If the Americans in Pinglin surrender today, we promise to repatriate them to the United States within one week. They can keep their weapons, their flags, and their pride. They have fought valiantly, especially Captain Concitor with the bayonet charge that cost him an eye. We do not want war with the United States. If the Americans stand aside and let us deal with our internal conflict with Chinese Taipei, we would be happy to resume normal relations with them.”
The interview cut off and the CNN reporter filled in her own commentary. “Colonel Fong is a confident, brilliant commander. His maneuver to fool General Gutierrez and seize Teatime Hill has dealt a serious setback to the 101st Airborne Division and the defense of Pinglin. Whether the American force can figure out a way to create a new defensive line and keep the town safe remains to be seen.”
The video ended.
“Fong is dangerous. Who knows what else he’ll try?” Brown asked.
“I assume we’re not considering the surrender offer,” I said cautiously.
Brown’s brows furrowed. “Hell no. I just got command, I’m not going to be remembered as the guy who delivered Citadel to the PLA in thirty minutes or less like a goddamn pizza boy.”
I tried to focus on the rest of Fong’s interview. It had to be a serious threat to make Brown ignore the compliment to me. The reference to me losing my eye was obviously meant to indicate that Chinese intelligence sources in Citadel are incredibly accurate. As far as I knew, no one outside my own unit had known about it.
“Unit One wiping out the Lafayette Initiative actually did happen. McCormick himself told me about that.”
Brown nodded. “So, the question is, what is Fong going to do next?”
I tried to pretend Brown wasn’t there and talked to myself. “With control of Teatime Hill, PLA forces overlook Citadel and the defenses of the northern road. I assume we’ve already evacuated our soldiers from the trenches on the road now that the Chinese can easily hit them.”
“Yes, we’ve done that,” Brown contributed.
I continued, “We can’t move our reserves quickly anymore without putting suppressing fire on Teatime Hill. Otherwise, the PLA there would pour fire down on us and it’d be a massacre. We could try popping smoke, but we don’t have that high-tech infrared-suppressing smoke that the Chinese have. They’d use thermal sensors to see us and wipe us out as if it were broad daylight.”
Brown put aside the tension between us and tried to sound professional. “If we can’t move the reserves around, they aren’t much good.”
I shook my head. “We can sneak a few soldiers at a time through the streets, and even then we’d probably lose some of them. The reserves are at the elementary school right now, so they’re in good position to reinforce Devil Hill or the new line at the outskirts of the city at the base of Teatime Hill.”
Pausing for a moment, I grunted. “But Colonel Fong’s clever. He’ll know exactly the predicament we’re in. If we can do something about attacks in the northern part of Citadel, he won’t hit us there. The PLA still haven’t made a try for the western route into the city. I’d bet my pension that Fong will try to hit the western side next.”
Brown considered the theory. “Satellite imagery and intelligence from the Taiwanese doesn’t show any Chinese movement in that direction. They’re apparently moving infantry units up slowly in order to avoid a repeat of the ambushes that took out the forces they sent to cut off the road to the south leading to Yilan.”
“Nobody saw the PLA heading for Teatime Hill either, sir,” I pointed out. “That’s thick forest over there. I could see soldiers getting through it without being detected. Hell, they might not even send too many, just a hundred or so could be enough to blow a hole in our lines. And who knows what tricks the Chinese have cooked up to spoof the satellites and drones?”