This felt different from any other time. Now, he was responsible for the others. It wasn’t just how well he fought; he had to make sure his men fought well, too.
Zhu licked his lips. Today, they didn’t carry assault rifles or grenade launchers. Each Eagle flyer carried a big magnetic mine. Each Eagle flyer had a single task to perform: land on a giant American tank, attach the mine—that would automatically set the device—and fly away for safety.
Zhu doubted they could escape again. This was a suicide mission.
This is for the glory of China.
It saddened Zhu that he would have to die today. But if he was going to die, he was going to take an American super-tank with him. He had become a First Rank. Who would have ever expected that from him? His mother, if she were still alive, would have been proud of him.
Zhu glanced at his men. They watched the ground, each wrapped in his own thoughts. Zhu didn’t know them well. He had no doubt they were brave.
He looked up. Missile streaks left trails in the sky. Beside them flashed long cruise missiles. They were almost to the great tanks. Yes, he saw the monsters blazing fire. They were beasts, and the firepower pouring from them was awe-inspiring.
Against orders, Zhu chinned on his helmet radio. “First Rank Tian of Second Squad, this is First Rank Zhu of Fifth Squad.”
“Hello, Zhu,” Tian said in a tired voice.
“Are you well?” Zhu asked.
“No I’m not well. I’m not supposed to die in America. The astrologer said so. But look at those tanks. How are we supposed to destroy them?”
“We will die gloriously today,” Zhu said.
“…Zhu, my friend, you are a good man.”
The sadness in Tian’s voice was difficult to take.
“Tian…everything I know…you taught me.”
“Zhu, Zhu, Zhu, you are China’s best soldier. Do you know that?”
“You mock me at a time like this?” Zhu asked. The tanks were getting bigger, and none of the missiles streaking at them or the cruise missiles hugging the ground could reach those tanks. This was incredible. The tanks shot the missiles out of the air.
“You are like a brother to me,” Tian was saying. “I wish you well.”
“I…I wish you well, First Rank.”
“You are my best friend, Zhu.”
“You are also my best friend.”
“Ah, Zhu, what a strange thing life is. I did not realize how much I wanted to live until this moment. Don’t you want to live?”
“Not at the price of dishonor,” Zhu said.
“Is this honor?”
“Yes!” Zhu said. “We are White Tigers. We are the greatest soldiers in the world. We have lived well, with honor and with pride. I am happy to perish well, fighting the enemy with every particle of my strength.”
“They picked the right man to be a White Tiger. I will miss you.”
Zhu blinked rapidly, finding that his eyes were wet. The moisture leaked out of the corners and streaked his temples. His chest felt so terribly hollow. He wished he could live. But this was the price of being the greatest soldier, a White Tiger. One had to be willing to lay down his life for his country. This was China’s hour of greatness. His country called upon him to destroy the dreaded tanks that annihilated his fellow warriors.
They were more blooms in the nearing distance. Nine great vehicles in a line stopped everything sent at them. As the helo closed, more explosions occurred all around the Behemoths. It was most incredible.
“Launch!” their pilot shouted.
Zhu shoved up for what would likely be the last time in his life. He engaged his jetpack and lifted at exactly the right angle. A moment later, an enemy shell obliterated the battle-taxi. It took half his squad with it. They had been too slow in exiting.
From ten meters above the ground, First Rank Zhu flew at the great tanks. Concussions in the air shook him as he closed. More Eagle flyers tumbled from the air.
“Tian?” Zhu radioed. He did not get an answer. Tian must be dead. The astrologer had been wrong. It didn’t matter. Zhu’s eyes shined and he flew at the tanks.
He dropped another few meters. And then he gave his jetpack full thrust. Artillery rained on the tanks. Cruise missiles came down. How could nine tanks stop so much at one time?
Then an explosion knocked a Behemoth tank onto its side.
Zhu shouted wildly, the sound reverberating in his helmet. His heart beat with excitement. He was terrified. He was alive. He snarled and activated the mine strapped to his chest.
“I am First Rank,” he said to himself.
Zhu closed as shrapnel rattled against his armor. The last Eagle flyers with him went down, plowing into the snow. Only First Rank Zhu continued. He had practiced long hours to become the best. He flew, taking another hit that breached his armor so a hole appeared in his stomach and fluids leaked out. He felt his strength oozing from him. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now but the hulk of steel before him.
Zhu Peng, White Tiger First Rank, struck the Behemoth tank. The impact ignited his mine, and it blew a hole into the main compartment, killing the entire crew and destroying the greatest battlefield weapon on either side.
Stan Higgins reluctantly ordered a retreat. The latest enemy attack had broken through the defensive fire, destroying three Behemoths and four battlewagons.
He had five operational Behemoths left, and one more that could fire defensively. After the latest mass assault, he didn’t believe he had enough firepower to keep the Chinese off balance.
Of the five tanks left, three of the force cannons had lost their fine calibration. They could hit close objects, but not the miles-long distant enemy.
As the Behemoths backed up, retreating at speed as friendly artillery laid down thick, anti-thermal clouds, he judged the flank attack a success, at least while it had lasted.
The Pan-Asian Alliance Tenth Army had ceased to exist as a fighting formation. The Fifteenth had stalled. The new Sleeper mines had done some damage to it. Mainly, however, the Chinese were now out of position and would need time to redeploy.
Already, elements from American Second Tank Army raced for the empty trenches facing what was left of PAA Army Group A. Their encounter with the southern Chinese had been decisive.
Stan retreated, dragging two hulks of Behemoths with him. The others he left on the battlefield.
The remaining super-tanks would need a lot of repair to fix them back up to full efficiency. But it appeared right now that they had more than fulfilled their role as America’s saviors. They had blunted the Chinese breakthrough attempt.
The question remained, though. How was Jake doing? Was his boy still alive?
Stan sat in his commander’s chair, too tired for words.
-13-
Readjustments
Corporal Jake Higgins trudged along I-70. In the distance behind were the ruins of Greater Denver.
The bulk of the Chinese Army had pulled out several days ago. The remnants in the ruins shot at Jake and the others, but it was desultory fire. The danger came from sporadic artillery barrages.
“Incoming!” the Lieutenant shouted.
Jake sprinted off the freeway and hit the snow, hugging the ground. Shells roared overhead and slammed against the Earth. Jake felt the tremors and relaxed. From endless weeks, he knew the shells hadn’t landed near enough to hurt him.
“They’re taking revenge against us,” the Lieutenant said.
Jake looked up. Everyone around them was flat. They waited for more salvos. More didn’t come this time. The Chinese fired here and there at random, seemingly trying to catch soldiers by surprise. It was a petty way to make war, going for more wounded to make life miserable for the Americans. Like the others around him, Jake dragged himself to his feet and continued walking.