“Cruise missiles,” McCormick said.
Nodding, the Taiwanese sergeant replied, “We always knew we’d need a way to eliminate the Chinese artillery advantage, and we knew that maintaining air superiority to take out artillery from the air might not be possible. So, cruise missiles launched from bases near Yilan do the dirty work for us.”
“How many do you have? Aren’t they expensive?” I asked.
The sergeant snorted. “These cruise missiles are dirt cheap. Some kid with a GPS-enabled smartphone could program them in a few days, then you just need an engine and some explosives. They’re actually considerably cheaper than the Chinese artillery platforms — and much safer.”
Dietrich tilted his head in thought. “But you must have used these missiles before against their artillery. The Chinese must know that these artillery attacks won’t do much good.”
McCormick finished the thought. “They don’t care. Anything they can throw at Pinglin to make a small difference is worth it if they can win the battle. They’ve probably got most of their remaining air power in the sky right now trying to break through the Taiwanese and American air defenses. Hell, they might launch cruise missiles from the submarines that are supposed to be waiting to sink American shipping. For the next two days, the People’s Republic of China will wage total war on the town of Pinglin.”
“Then we’ll have to wage total war on the People’s Republic of China,” I said. “Pinglin won’t fall.”
McCormick and I locked eyes, and a small shadow of a smile creased his face.
Looking over to the sedan, the Taiwanese sergeant said, “It looks like your men are about finished. I will return to my unit. Thanks for the coffee.” We said our goodbyes, and the sedan drove off to the north.
We began our planning, trying to think up targets that could sway the course of the coming battle. McCormick sought out intelligence from the Taiwanese.
After an hour, McCormick said, “Everything keeps coming back around to Colonel Fong. If there’s anyone who can crack Citadel open like a nut, it’s Fong. He’s a slippery son of a bitch, but if we can get him, there probably isn’t another PLA commander savvy enough to win this war.”
Ivanov, Dietrich, and I murmured our assent to that conclusion. The only problem was that the Taiwanese couldn’t figure out where the hell he was. Somewhere within a few miles of Pinglin, obviously, but we couldn’t simply attack the whole People’s Liberation Army and hope he would just show up.
We were still wrestling with that problem when my earpiece buzzed. “Lieutenant Barker, this is Concitor.”
I hadn’t expected to hear from my former commander. “Barker here, what’s up, sir?”
“We have a major problem,” he said, stress evident in his voice, though he was trying his best to hide it. “I need you and McCormick to do whatever you can.”
“Of course, sir. What’s the situation?”
He told me, and I listened with a sinking feeling in my gut.
Chapter 7: Concitor
I had eaten a sumptuous meal of MREs and was enjoying a few hours of sleep when I was shaken awake by the head of Alpha Company under my command, Captain Kerner. “Colonel, you’d better head to HQ.”
“Did Brown send for me?” I asked, rubbing my face.
“No, he didn’t, sir,” he said, his face deadly serious. “That’s why I think you should go.”
Grasping the meaning in his words, I said, “Alright, I’ll head over.”
I took two Tylenol and put the patch over my missing eye. My rifle was in the corner of the shop backroom I had commandeered as my sleeping quarters.
We walked out into what should have been midday sun, but there was a thick misty rain coming down instead.
“I thought the forecast was for clear skies,” I observed to Captain Kerner.
He replied, “The Pentagon says the Chinese are seeding clouds, distributing particulate matter into weather patterns over China to create rain and fog here in Citadel. They’re trying to decrease the effectiveness of our air power, sir.”
I grunted. “Smart bastards, aren’t they? Should have guessed they’d try that. I remember they were seeding clouds for the 2008 Olympics twenty years ago. Makes sense that they’d want to pull out all the stops to make us welcome.” I considered the fog for a moment. “This weather also means the PLA soldiers on Teatime Hill are going to have a harder time seeing into Citadel. They need to use thermal scopes, and not every soldier is going to have one of those. We can probably move the reserves around again in the town without too much danger.”
We made our way over to headquarters, and the soldiers en route stopped and saluted me with earnest admiration. The press coverage and my eye patch had turned me into a recognizable celebrity, someone the soldiers instantly recognized.
Once we arrived at the headquarters, however, the looks from the other soldiers took on more of a hopeful mien. Not a good sign.
“I’m heading back to the reserves,” Kerner said. “Good luck, Colonel Concitor.”
I entered the building. In the main command center, various staff members were bustling about, creating an atmosphere of tension. I sought out General Brown, who was dictating orders to yet more staff members. “—and reach out to Colonel Patterson at the Pentagon, he knows all the right press people for this.” He turned and saw me, and I could see the effort behind the grin he forced on to his face. “Heard something was going on?” he asked.
“I did, general. What’s happening?”
“We’re hitting back, that’s what’s happening.” He indicated the electronic map display.
I stared blankly. “What do you mean, sir?”
He explained. “We’ve bought a day of respite with the victory to the west and the destruction of the Chinese ammo dump and command center. Now we need to capitalize on the opportunity while Chinese forces in theater are insufficient to make another attack.”
Pointing to Teatime Hill on the map, he said, “As long as the PLA hold that damn hill, our defenses to the north are cracked. A heavy infantry assault from the north could crack through the Coffee Line at the base of the hill and bypass our soldiers on Devil Hill and on the northern entrance to Citadel. So, we’re going to retake Teatime Hill while we’ve got the fog and weather on our side. The resulting disarray in the PLA command will disrupt any further Chinese attacks. Those attacks will be even less effective once we reestablish the commanding defensive position on Teatime Hill.”
Trying to maintain some semblance of being supportive, I observed, “So the PLA won’t be able to target our guys coming in as easily because of the fog.”
“Damn right,” Brown grunted.
I had my doubts about how blinding the fog would be. The smoke had been blinding earlier because it had thermal-suppressant particles interspersed in it. Thermal scanners could see through ordinary fog; they had basically been invented for exactly that purpose.
Brown had to know that. For all his bluster, he wasn’t an idiot. “What else do you have planned to soften up the defenses?” I asked.
“We’re coordinating air support. Right before our assault, a flight of Air Force F-15 Strike Eagles will plaster Teatime Hill,” Brown said.
The conversation around us had died away, and I realized that everyone in the headquarters was listening to see what I thought about the plan.