Each truck had a staff sergeant who stood and ordered the soldiers off the vehicles on the double. Each group was assigned to a specific fortified trench and that was where they headed now, many of them running at full tilt, dragging rucksacks with the few pieces of equipment they were given.
The staff sergeants led the way, corralling their soldiers and shouting at them to move it or lose it. No one needed any added incentive to scurry for cover—the artillery barrage was more than enough.
The layout here looked far more like something out of World War One than it did a modern battlefield. Maybe even a low-tech version of the Maginot Line Brandon had learned about in history class.
They were halfway there, the land around them churned up from repeated barrages, devoid of trees and greenery, when the artillery stopped and the helicopters swept in. A dozen Z-10s strafed the area with fire from their 23mm chain guns. Brandon grabbed Gregory by the waist and dove behind a gabion as the massive rounds peppered the area, killing dozens.
From a series of fortified positions along the front, the slightly outdated M163 Vulcan Air Defense Systems lit up. Essentially Gatling guns mounted on an M113 chassis, they made a whirling sound a split second before they erupted with devastating effect. At once, four of the enemy choppers were shredded in the sky, falling to the ground in clumps of twisted metal. One by one they fell from the sky before the few that remained retreated across the river to safety.
Brandon rose and couldn’t believe the number of dead. They’d been caught out in the open and paid a heavy price. A boy no older than twenty lay a dozen yards away, clutching at something pink spilling out of his belly. Most of the others were far less fortunate, many with wounds so ghastly they were hardly recognizable as human beings. Medics swarmed out from the trenches and ran to those in need. Brandon went to the soldier with the gut wound, grabbed him by the uniform and proceeded to pull him to safety.
“Are you gonna help or what?” he asked a stunned-looking Gregory. “Grab him by the wrist and pull.”
Almost on autopilot, Gregory did as he was told.
Finally they reached the entrance of the trench where a medic emerged and took over. If there was such a thing as a baptism by fire, this was it.
Even after entering the relative safety of the covered trenches, Brandon’s hands continued to shake. This new area was dim and smelled of damp earth and sweat. Planks of wood laid along the ground were designed to keep feet dry. Around him, soldiers were rushing in every direction, several staring out the gun ports that looked out over the river.
A whistle came from out of the darkness. “Hey, kids. This way.” It was Dixon, standing by one of the gun ports. Brandon and Gregory went to him. “You stick here with me and keep an eye out for those Chinks. They should try to cross at any minute.” He turned to Gregory. “Where’s your rifle?”
“I don’t have one,” Gregory whimpered.
“He’s been assigned to ammo duty,” Brandon explained.
“Well, there’s a depot in trench delta, about thirty yards that way. You just be sure to keep the supply flowing nicely for anyone who needs it.”
Gregory saluted and then went off.
“No, that way,” Dixon called after him.
Gregory stopped, looked back and then changed direction.
“Damn kid’s gonna get us all killed.”
“He just wants to do his part,” Brandon said defensively. “I’m sure there are plenty of others who should be up here and chose to stay home instead.”
“Hmm, you might have a point there.”
“Contact, twelve o’clock,” a voice called out.
Dixon glanced through the gun port and swore. “What’d I tell ya, kid? Here they come.”
Brandon fell in beside him and looked out for himself. With all the trees along the river blown away long ago, the line of sight was extensive. And what Brandon saw now took his breath away. Hundreds of Chinese ZBD-08 infantry fighting vehicles (IFV) and Type 99 main battle tanks (MBT) pushed into the far side of the river.
“They’re killing themselves,” Brandon said out loud.
“No, kid,” Dixon shot back. “Those guys can swim.”
A moment later, American M777 howitzers miles from the front opened fire, creating high towers of water with every miss and an orange blast and a cheer from the soldiers in the trenches with every hit.
“Looks like a lot of them are making it across,” Brandon said, fear rising in his voice.
“I can see that,” Dixon replied.
Just then they heard the roar of planes flying over them. These weren’t jets, they were something else. Brandon ran to the trench opening and peered into the sky. Transport planes crossed overhead, some going down in flames after being shot down by US anti-aircraft batteries. But the planes weren’t the biggest threat, it was what they were carrying. Slowly the skyline behind their position filled with paratroops. Brandon ran back in and told Dixon what he’d seen.
“Have they landed airborne units like this before?” Brandon asked. “Is this part of their tell?”
Dixon spat on the ground, looking worried now for the first time. “No, this would be something new. They’re trying to cut us off and unless we can stop ’em, this whole front line may be about to crumble.”
Chapter 28
“I won’t be able to keep Moss from hurting you again if you’re holding out on me,” John told Huan.
She was trying to be strong, he could see that by the way she struggled to maintain eye contact with him, but the lack of focus in her expression told him her mind was somewhere far away. While her body might be trapped, her mind could go where it pleased.
John rubbed his hands together. “Are you married, Huan?”
“I am.”
“I’m sure you miss your husband a great deal, don’t you?”
Her expression didn’t waver.
“What about kids? You have any?” John paused to let her answer, and when she didn’t, he went on. “I’ve got two myself. Son and a daughter. Twelve and fourteen. She’s been traumatized something fierce by a laundry list of things I won’t get into, but staying put in her room drawing pictures and writing stories is pretty much all she’s been up to these last few days. My wife says it’s just a phase.” The finger of his left hand tapped a quickening rhythm on the table. “And for some reason my son got it into his mind he wanted to be a soldier and sneaked off to the front with a friend. Twelve years old and ready to throw his life away, can you believe it? I may not see him again because of what he’s done. Not unless we can track him down and get him back. It’s a thought I have a hard time accepting, Huan. Hard to face, you know what I’m saying?”
She didn’t respond.
“Any parent, no matter what their kids have done, shouldn’t have to face the chances of never seeing them again. I’m sure you feel the same way. You wanna see your husband and children again, don’t you?”
Her gaze fell to his tapping finger before she found his eyes again.
“Don’t you?” John shouted.
“Yes,” Huan whispered.
“Of course you do. We understand each other better than you think. We may be on opposite sides of the fence, you and I, but I think there would be many things that we agree on. Believe it or not, I want you to see your family again, Huan. So far you’ve been pretty forthcoming, all of which is helping to get you home, one step at a time. But when I asked you about the camps you clammed up. I don’t wanna see you backslide, Huan. I’m the only one rooting for you here, so you don’t wanna lose me as your ally, but I need the whole truth or so help you God.”
Huan swallowed and her throat made an audible clicking noise. “If I tell you what you ask, you’ll let me go?”