(C-39)
And the beat goes on,
ālea iacta est ("the die is cast").
0630 EST
Bruno hated this part of his morning run, the last half-mile all up hill. But he did like the feeling he gets when it’s all over, the exhilaration of having completed what he considered a hard work out. Getting to the top he slows his pace turns and starts an easy jog back down, his breathing was easier today, as he thinks, not to bad for an old man.
About half way back down the hill the disposable phone he’s being paid to carry everywhere vibrates, letting him know his current associate wants to talk. Slowing to a walk he takes the phone opens it up and says, “OK.”
The voice on the other end belongs to one of the Princes hired men that he talked to last week. “My boss needs to move the meeting up to today. He say’s it to be no later then 4 P.M., at the address you gave us on East 193rd street!”
Bruno wonders why the rush, and he doubts the FBI has their people in place yet as this is four days before the originally planned meeting. But he also knows that he has been constantly watched and tailed since they’re first meeting, either by the Prince or the Feds, included his trip out to Kansas for his target check, then back to here. Even now. he can feel hidden eyes on him and can occasionally see people hanging around that were out of place. So making up an excuse would be out of the question, as he answers, “Yeah, I can make it at four o’clock sharp. I’ll be bringing Tony along, why the rush?”
“Things are heating up out west and we have Ice Cream to move by tomorrow, bring your friend, later.”
Bruno knows that the FBI has this phone under 24 hour monitoring, so he doesn’t need to alert them. And if they are listening, so will the Princes people, doing the same. It’s just a game with in a game, within a game, as he smiles and thinks; it’s a good thing I learned to play chess at a young age. So many moves and plans laid out for each of the opponent’s next three moves.
Still clutching the phone as he continues his cooling down walk, Bruno’s mind is racing working on a plan and a back up plan. Using the phone he calls Tony, who picks up after two rings, and in a sleepy voice says, “This better be Bruno!”
“Ya got me, I’ll need a car, and I’ve got an errand to run today. Ya got one I can use?” With the schedule moved up he wonders if Tony would be a good man to have along to help him?
“Sure what time do you want me to come by, and when will I get it back?
“Around nine this morning, we are going shopping,” he said hoping Tony will catch on, “I’ll have you back home before sundown”
Tony did catch his drift as he answered, “I’ll be here, see you then.”
Bruno knows that Tony understand his meaning and will alert the FBI through his lawyer to set up a last meeting for coordination. Now back to his planning, the cooling down walk helped as he heads back to his place. While walking he observes the normal early morning day-to-day activity of the city, to an outsider it might look the same everyday, but any local would see the differences right away. Just like he does picking out the surveillance team that's watching him, getting an idea and with a smile he wonders if the Feds have any agents who can drive a garbage truck? Cause it's trash day in the area of the meeting, and he knows that the trucks are usually around about 4PM, picking it up and making a lot of noise. Another sly smile shows, that would make the perfect cover, doing the routine. With a laugh he thinks, 'The Feds would be the ones doing most of the dirty work this time, fitting very fitting. All I have to do is bring the garbage to them.'
(C-40)
Crossing the Rubicon
Keep thinking, keep up the pressure, and draw the enemy out from his hidden positions by any means that you can. Once they are moving it is easier to destroy them and you can then win.
Kansas Militia, Soldiers Hand Book
when his orders are not clear and distinct; when there
are no fixes duties assigned to officers and men,
and the ranks are formed in a slovenly haphazard manner,
the result is utter disorganization.
Sun Tzu
0400 PST
Useless and with out any purpose, that’s what he has become. As the Corp commander hand selected by the Khan he was to be in charge of China’s most modern fighting force here in northern California. He had been selected because of his proven skills and ability not on who he knew. And now after a few set backs that he had no control over he is ordered to follow some very foolish orders and watch his command destroyed, or transferred, and he was powerless to prevent it.
And now with two more of his brigades decimated in senseless frontal attacks against an enemy his commander has completely underestimated. Where those two brigades were ambushed and destroyed yesterday afternoon well ahead of the American positions as they were advancing down the road. Even with scouts moving ahead of the main column by a full kilometer, the main units drove head long into a well-prepared valley of death with no escape, and again for nothing. And then last night another four of my battalions were badly mauled in their four separate reconnaissances in force probes I was ordered to do.
How many more men will I lose following the commander’s exact orders, to do it his way? This is utter madness; we are given orders that won’t allow any deviation no matter what, this is asinine micromanagement at it’s worst. Leaving no room for the unit commanders on the ground to direct the battle, to take advantage of it’s ever shifting opportunities, as a quick glimpse appears then disappears in the every changing fog of war.
History repeats itself and I’m helpless to prevent it, no not helpless, as his commands were direct and deliberate, I’m ordered to fail by an incompetent ass. We are repeating the same mistakes as at the end of World War II when Hitler had continually ordered his Divisions to attack, and attack again. But they weren’t Divisions anymore just weak Battalions and sometimes just a hodgepodge collection of Companies thrown into the meat grinder in a desperate attempt to stop the advancing American and Russian Armies.
These misguided tactics and other insane stupid command orders from 10th Army would soon see his remain divisions, maybe even his whole Corp reduced to a collection of a few numbers on a map board.
It’s unmistakable, an easily seen fact, this American Militia knows how to use the ground to their favor, it’s as if they were born to this type of warfare. They have hidden eyes in the woods and brush watching our every move, the all-seeing eyes of wolfs as my soldiers believe. Maybe they can really smell us coming as some of the troops whisper to each other. And their name the ‘Prairie Ghost’ just added to the mystique surrounding them, one that’s helped nourish my soldiers unnatural fear of them. These Americans may not relish war, but they were born for it.
General Chen looking at his map can see at a glance that the Americans down at Plymouth should be in a precarious position, or so it would seem to a non-tactical trained mind. Especially when I have two Divisions just south of them with two more to the north, and the 31st Corp has another three division to their west. All seven divisions should have the Americans boxed in and we can destroy them easily when ever we want to.
But looking closer at the detailed topographic map and it’s easy to see that it’s the Americans who have the advantage, short supply lines and our own weapons and equipment to use against us. Especially since they have captured the two artillery brigades of the 35th and 43rd Division, where they are using those guns against our attacks. According to our computer monitored radar counter fire and control center, in less then twenty-four hours they have expended over three thousand rounds against our attacks and recon probing. With the large supply of ammunition we had stored there for the artillery, they fire off rounds without a worry or any fear of running short. They have more then enough rounds to fire for two weeks at this rate; and a lot can happen in two weeks, it’s our forces that haven’t time on our side.
Disgust shows on his face, using our own weapons against us to defeat us. He mentally admits, these Americans are good soldiers, well trained and even better lead. And it is my commander who has fallen into their trap, as he gives us reckless orders to attack as fast as our soldiers can be brought up, either by battalions or brigades headlong down the highways, no maneuvering and taking the high ground. And our soldiers die and the Americans in hiding are wiping the blood from their knives and tomahawks waiting patiently, knowing we will try again, and again to free my two trapped divisions.
Gobi is a fool, can’t he see that the ground favors the Americans, narrow valleys lots of hills and low mountains and sparse vegetation that won’t hide any units larger then a platoon to approach them undetected. And when my soldiers are found out these Militia soldiers wait patiently drawing the unit in, exposing more of my men, then suddenly and without any warning my men die with out ever seeing the enemy. They die by the score to the accurate and deadly fire of our own captured artillery and by our own Chinese made rounds.
That sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach has returned, we are losing this fight and my men are dying for what? To buy time, to hold off the obvious disaster they could all see rushing at them like a runaway avalanche. Our smaller patrols have men shot and killed from hidden snipers, sometime the sound of the shoot comes from behind them as a man is shot in the back some how the patrol must have walked past these hidden ghost.
Listening now he can hear the drums echoing through the hills, the war whoops of the wild men as they spring up from the ground or step out of trees, to hack at his defenseless soldiers with their bloody tomahawks, taking the scalps of the fallen and holding them high over their heads as a trophy to be proud of.
This is impossible where have all of these American soldiers come from? We have five million trained men here in California, and they can’t have more then a few thousand soldiers maybe even up to 100,000 men. The rest of the Americans are just Militia, they aren’t organized to fight us here in their own land, at least not like this.
Hearing a loud shouted warning behind him he turns as he reaches for his pistol, it’s not there but in its place he finds a long sword. He draws it knowing that any weapon is better then nothing as he watches a whirlwind of dust approaching, a cloud made from the thundering of countless horses hooves. This makes no sense the modern weapons of war have made horse soldiers as obsolete as a massed infantry charge would be, suddenly the sound of the charging horses stops and it becomes deathly quiet. As the dust starts to dissipate he can make out the lone figure of a large man sitting on a horse watching him. Even stranger, the man looks like a young version of the actor John Wayne, right out of an old black and white film. Sitting tall on the horse he easily holds a Winchester style rifle in his hand. The dust completely clears now and he can see this man smiling as he said, “You brought a knife to a gun fight son, it might be a big knife but you still lose.” The man takes aim with the rifle, I know he will shoot me straight through the heart, he’s a man, he won’t make me suffer.
Well Duke you won’t take me with out a fight as he raises the sword above his head to charge.
Sitting up right in his bed General Jiu Chen lets out a curse shouting, “Damn you, I’ll fight to may last breath.”
“Sir, Sir, General Chen what’s wrong,” his aide is shaking him with one hand on his shoulder.
“I, I don’t? I thought we were being slaughtered by American Indians, and John Wayne was getting ready to shot me.” He has a dazed look on his face as he said, “I must have dozed off and had a bad dream, a nightmare.” Still confused he asks, “What time is it, how long did I sleep? And what’s the tactical situation?”
“It’s now 0420, and you have been asleep just over three hours sir. The tactical for our Corp area is the same, the Americans still occupy the area around Plymouth and wait on more of our attacks, and there is no movement up on highway 80. In the 31st Corp AO they are still attempting to clear the highway to San Francisco but with out any luck. They lost over 15,000 men yesterday and last night where they only gained two miles of ground. They think they have fixed the front lines of the American defenses and will attempt a break out later.”
General Chen shakes his head knowing that General Gobi will waste lives for nothing. If the troops under his control gained only two miles and it cost us 15,000 soldiers, we will be bleed dry long before the Americans become sick of the killing.
Damn can’t the old fool see that the Americans will give ground, they won’t be pinned down. Gobi doesn’t have a clue in what he faces, he can’t maneuver and he hasn’t enough air power left to assist his attempts, and where his artillery is counter barraged every time he uses it.
The Americans have him right where they want and the man isn’t up to the task. If he continues these wasteful attacks in a few days it will be over. With a little luck he might even last a week, but soon even he will see that he has very few options left. But before then how many more of our men will die?
And the results will still be the same, only the pile of dead will be stacked higher, then how many more families will be in mourning? He frowns knowing that things should have been different; we were supposed to be the winners this time. We were to be the people who are to write the new history books, changing the world and giving it a new direction.
Instead we lose, unless, he pauses a second as a stray though pops in to his mind, I could be wrong, the actions of just one man can change the outcome, even though that’s very unlikely to happen. Thinking back to his nightmare where the wild men are holding their bloody trophies he wonders if that is to be our fate, to be scalped?
Pushing that thought from his mind he asks, “Any word from General Gobi about my request for the 11th Corp to attack Ione from the west as my two trapped divisions attack from the east?”
“No sir, we know they received the request, the latest satellites photos came in an hour ago. The Americans units that took Iona moved northeast and are in the hills, as you said they would be. If the 11th Corp attacks now they would be attacking into very rough terrain. Maybe the 11th Corp are making their plans now?”
“Ha, that is a good joke. Our Army commander can only manage a single chore at a time; right now he is fixated on his problem to the west and saving his own skin. We are on our own,” then looking at his watch he is surprised it’s just 0420; despite his nightmare he was able to rest for three hours, now he remembers, that’s what his aide told him when he first woke up.
“Call the five divisions commanders have them stop following the plans to attack Plymouth that were sent to them by 10th Army. Have them come to the rear TACHQ by noon today we have to come up with a separate plan to rescue our 2 trapped division, we can expect no help from 11th Corp.”
(C-41)
The third bridge.
0430
you one victory, but let your methods be regulated
by the infinite variety of circumstances.
Sun Tzu
This part was the hardest, even though radio contact had been made, this moving in the dark and approaching the Chinese position at the bridge, anything could go wrong. Even with the Chinese guide riding in the first vehicle, maybe it's a rouse by them? Don't know how they would know? That we had switched sides, but anything is possible? Just thinking about the many possibilities can drive a man nuts. Even if Major Z had told him not to worry, Ricardo couldn't help himself, there were just too many if's.
Maybe Lt. Colonel Maritz was a tactical genus’s and this simple plan as he had called, there were still a lot of risks, and it's me with my Company's neck on the line again. Ricardo smiled at the thought of when the Z man asked for volunteers he had surprised himself when he stepped up and said, “My Company can lead the California Battalion in, the Chinese are expecting a Jihad Battalion, we will dash their moral when they find out its a Aztlan unit.”
Everyone laughed at that, and it had sounded good at the time to him, to be leading the battalion again. Colonel Ito the California Militia Brigade CO had nodded his head in approval and asked for as many spare uniforms that they had, for his men who would make up the bulk of Ricardos Company. That way the Chinese wouldn't suspect a thing until it was too late, and hopefully they would take the bait. Lt Colonels Maritz plan was for the Chinese to pull out and rejoin the rest of their battalion on the I-80 Carquinez Bridge at Valona.
If they took the bait, we replace their men on the north side of the Bridge and as they all move back to the south side here and start to board our trucks for the trip, Our Tanks and APC's turn their weapons on them and demand that they surrender. With their CO, Lieutenants and senior NCO's already captured at their HQ we shouldn't have to shoot them up. At least that is what we planned and with a couple of the Chinese Free Army people that Colonel Ito in his battalion that would hold this bridge after we take it, it should work? Still too many if's, got to stop worrying.
Chinese Free Army, no one told us that several hundred thousand of the Khan's Army had been taken prisoners, with over 100,000 of them now working with the US Army.
I guess that no stranger then Major Z's Battalion of the Jihad Army becoming Christians again and switching sides. Just like my Company did, Ricardo understood the why, but it sure was strange too.
The Convoy stops and using his night vision he watched the Chinese soldier get off of the first vehicle and approach a sandbagged position. One of the Guards steps out and Ricardo knows they are exchanging their pass words. They both shake hands and several more guards stand up and wave at the first of his vehicles.
The Convoy starts moving again slowly as their guide walks in front and directs for them to pull over to the side of the road. And then into a small vehicle park that will hold only the first platoon's vehicles. When Ricardo's vehicle is even with the Guard Post one of the Chinese, motions for them to stop and then climbs on board. In very broken English he says, “Sir, I your guide. Pull out head,” he pauses trying to think of the English words. The Free Chinese Major with Ricardo says something to the guide in Chinese.
The guide flashes a smile and he answers with a flourish of words in Chinese. Ricardo knows he feels relief in not having to struggle with words in English that might be misunderstood.
The Major tells the driver to pull around and head up to tools booths and then to the building to the east of them. To Ricardo he says, “Have all of your vehicles follow us, we will see in a minuet if this plan works? It should, this man,' Indicating the guide, “is from their HQ unit and he said they were really glad to see us, especially their CO as Major Z had informed them you had the Heavy Armor with you. I just hope the don't recognize the last eight tanks aren't the ZTZ-99’s like the first four are?
If we get them off loaded from the low boys we can sale this plan with out having to kill my country men here. Keep your fingers crossed LT, and pray. I am!”
The plan is a success, the Chinese 10th Army has lost another bridge and the Free Chinese soldiers along with the California Battalion take over the radio duties with all of the codes captured. And they make contact with the Kansas units to the North of the bridge, freeing them up to rejoin their units.
Ricardo and his Company along with Major Z's four ZTZ-99’s tanks turn around and head back to their unit at the Antioch Bridge, just as the sky to the east lightens up before sunrise. They have a long day ahead of them preparing for the next fight, with the Jihad units.
No comments:
Post a Comment