Battlefield Pacific

ANZACs

The air was hot and sticky as Lieutenant General Rick Campbell of the 1^st Brigade of the Australian Army looked at his senior commanders. He was about to order them to carry out a very risky invasion, one that might help cement Australia’s relationship with the new Global Defense Force and give them a more prominent role in the postwar world that would be created in Asia.

General Campbell saw the men he needed to brief were all present and ready to get things going. “Good,” he thought. “There’s a lot to get done and not a lot of time to do it.”

Clearing his throat to get their attention, he stood and walked over to a large map displayed on the wall and removed the sheet he had placed on it earlier. He wanted to keep what he was about to talk about a secret until this discussion. Once he’d pulled the sheet down, the others suddenly sat up a little straighter, seeing the magnitude of what the map showed. They were going to invade the Island of Java directly and bypass a lot of the other Indonesian island garrisons.

“Two days ago, the Indonesian Army on Luzon surrendered to the American Marines. It is expected that the PLA ground forces will also surrender within the next couple of days. I spoke with General Roy Cutter, the American Marine Commander for the Pacific. He told me that his intention is to bypass the bulk of the Chinese and Indonesian forces on the remaining Philippine Islands. The Americans will turn their focus on Taiwan once Luzon has been fully liberated,” General Campbell explained.

“The surrender of so many Indonesian forces on Luzon, and the fact that many more of them are now going to be essentially trapped on the remaining islands, has given us a unique opportunity to deal a death blow to the Indonesian government and perhaps end their participation in the war. General Cutter told me that he will detail off one American carrier strike group and additional ground forces and landing ships to assist us in our invasion of Java. Our goal—” he said, pausing for effect, “—is to threaten Jakarta and force the government to surrender.”

Brigadier General Alan Morrison, the senior ground commander for the ANZAC force, interrupted to ask what they all wanted to know. “How in the heck are we going to invade Java? We don’t have the sealift capability to move our equipment and forces to assault a hostile landing like the Americans have been doing.”

The others in the room nodded their heads in agreement and mumbled a few words to that effect as well.

General Campbell held up his hand. “In addition to our two Canberra-class amphibious assault ships, and the HMAS Choules, the Americans are going to send twelve of their own amphibious assault ships with the carrier strike group. They’ll also be sending one Stryker brigade combat team to support our ground operation. With the Americans having substantially increasing the size of their brigade combat teams, we’ll have a total of 6,000 additional infantrymen for the invasion. With the American troops, it’ll bring our invasion force up to 31,000 soldiers, and the latest intelligence reports estimate the Indonesian Army has, at best, 9,000 soldiers spread across Java. Our forces will be landing with tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, and self-propelled Howitzers — more than enough of a force to deal with the remaining enemy troops on the island.”

For the next two hours, the group went over the plan and ironed out a lot of the details of which units would land first and secure the port city of Cirebon. Once the port was captured, the heavy roll-on, roll-off ships would be able to dock and offload the rest of their armored vehicles and the supplies needed to keep the army moving. The port city of Cirebon had been chosen for a few reasons. It was only 218 kilometers from the Indonesian capital, and it was a relatively small city of just a few hundred thousand people, unlike the other port cities, which had populations in excess of one million. A small population meant fewer potential problems. Together, they decided that this course of action would isolate the capital from the remaining forces the Chinese had on the island, giving them the best chance of a quick victory.

The coral reefs around the island of Karimunjawa were absolutely stunning. Had Major Jason Warden of the New Zealand Special Air Force not been toting all of his combat gear with him, he certainly would have enjoyed the rich reds, pinks, and other colors of the living reef and the sight of the colorful fish that darted in and out of their underwater village.

He and his men had been transported to a place a couple of miles away from the island by an American ballistic missile submarine that had been converted to fire cruise missiles and carry the American Navy’s elite SEALs. When the mission had been put together, Major Warden had inquired why this assignment wasn’t being carried out by one of the American SEAL teams. The captain of the USS Georgia had told him a large contingent of the SEALs in the Philippines, who normally would have carried out this mission, had been killed, so the mission had fallen to his squadron to complete. Fortunately, they did have a couple of SEAL members to help them use the equipment and guide them through the process of leaving the underwater boat. He had to admit — the submarine was a beast. It was enormous and could carry a plethora of underwater vehicles and special operators.

Major Jason Warden looked over his shoulder. Now that they’d arrived at their destination, the rest of his team was unpacking the SEAL delivery vehicle. They’d parked the underwater vehicles on the opposite side of a reef; they’d swim through the break in it to the shore, where they would conduct their mission.

After what felt like a long time but was really only five or so minutes, the New Zealand Special Air Service, or NZSAS, was ready to move. The sixteen members of his team and the three US Navy SEALs accompanying them were about to pull off one of the most dangerous missions of the war for the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, or ANZACs.

In preparation for the ground invasion of Java, the NZSAS had been tasked with neutralizing a series of Chinese anti-ship missiles batteries and surface-to-air missiles in and around the Karimunjawa Airport. It was the last major threat to the invasion force that needed to be destroyed before the fleet could sail any closer. Because of the close proximity of so many civilians to the military targets, it had been determined that this mission should be conducted by Special Forces rather than left to cruise missiles or high-altitude bombing. Enough civilians were being killed in the war as it was; if they could minimize the casualties while still accomplishing the mission, then it was a risk worth taking.

Fifteen minutes went by as the underwater special operators made their way to the beach, then slowly left the cover of the water and waded ashore.

Sergeant Shang Ha was doing his best to stay awake when one of the motion sensors on the southeastern side of the island suddenly detected movement and an alarm sounded, startling him.

“Probably just another animal,” he thought, “or maybe, if I’m lucky, a young couple looking to get busy on a deserted beach.” He remembered back a month ago, when the beach sensor had picked up a young couple making love on the shoreline.

Turning the monitor over to inspect the source of alarm, Shang spotted something. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a bird or a romantic date — a small cluster of soldiers was emerging from the water. They appeared to be carrying a number of heavy bags with them as well.

“I better get the lieutenant in here ASAP,” he said under his breath as he lifted the telephone receiver on his desk.

It rang three times before he heard the very sleepy voice of his lieutenant on the other end. “This had better be good. You woke me out of a wonderful dream,” he said.

“Sir,” said Sergeant Shang. “One of the ocean sensors picked up some movement a few minutes ago. When I checked it out, it showed images of soldiers emerging from the water and heading up the beach on the southeastern side of the island. I believe we’re under attack!”

The lieutenant, who had sounded nearly drunk from tiredness just a moment before, must have sat up in his bed, because his voice now sounded like he had been hit with a quick jolt of adrenaline. “Alert the base commander, but do not sound the alarm. Let’s see if maybe we can lay an ambush for these guys,” he ordered. “I’ll be right there. I just need to get dressed.”

As the SAS teams split up and headed toward their targets, Major Warden couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing straight up. It felt like they were walking into a trap.

Everything inside of him screamed to get away, but he also knew they had to accomplish this task. The invasion force was set to sail through this area in the next few hours, and if his team didn’t take out the anti-ship missile launchers, hundreds, maybe even thousands of soldiers’ and sailors’ lives would be at risk.

“No, we need to press on and deal with whatever danger may be lurking ahead,” he told himself.

Ahead of him, his point man raised his right hand in a balled fist and then lowered it slowly, indicating they needed to stop and get down. The seven-man team immediately took up a defensive position as they waited for Major Warden to move forward and find out what the point man had found.

“What do you see?” he asked. His point man had his rifle aimed at something ahead of them.

“I found the first launcher site. It’s right past that cluster of foliage in front of us, maybe thirty meters. Do you see it?” he inquired.

Looking more closely, Warden saw through the camouflage and found the hidden structure. “I see it,” he said.

“There’s a guard just to the right of the entrance. I think we should fan out and advance forward. I can take the guy out with my knife, and then we can move into the area where the launchers are set up,” the point man offered, not taking his eyes off the guard.

“Copy that, let’s do it,” said Major Warden. He turned and signaled with his hands what he wanted everyone to do.

Slowly and methodically, the SAS men and the lone SEAL crept up on the sentry that was guarding the launchers. The guard appeared to be half-asleep. The point man looked at Warden one last time for the go-ahead, and then lowered his weapon and reached for his knife. Creeping slowly forward, he moved to within a couple of feet to the right of the guard, who still seemed unaware that he was about to die. In one swift move, the SAS man darted with lightning speed and had his hand tightly around the man's mouth as he thrust his knife into the guard’s throat, severing his arteries and windpipe in one violent move.

As the sentry was dragged to the ground and bled out, the rest of the SAS team moved in. Approaching the entrance, one of them pulled out a small electronic camera that was on a snake cord. He turned it on and moved the head of the cord around the corner to see what was on the other side. Major Warden walked up and looked at the small video display as well. With the night vision scope on, they saw one additional guard sitting on the opposite side of the wall from them.

Slowly, his teammate pulled the cord back and put it back in his pack. Warden moved his rifle to behind his back and retrieved his silenced pistol from his leg holster. Motioning for the others to follow him, he stacked up on the wall with the rest of the team falling in line behind him. Raising his hand with three fingers extended, he slowly counted down from three to one and then moved quickly around the wall.

Major Warden leveled his pistol at the guard, who nearly jumped out of his seat. Before he could yell or alert anyone else, Warden had already fired two quick shots into the guard’s chest and one to his forehead, dropping the man where he stood. In a flash, the rest of the team pushed forward with their rifles at the ready as they fanned out into the structure. When they came out of the hallway, they saw rows of rail launchers with anti-ship missiles on them aimed out to sea. Taking these missiles out was their primary objective.

As the team fanned out into the room, they spotted twelve soldiers and moved quickly to take them out. Ten of them were asleep in their cots near the back wall of the missile room, while two more were looking at what appeared to be a radar screen, probably watching to make sure no surface contacts came within range of their missiles.

Within seconds, the six SAS men and the lone SEAL had opened fire with their silenced pistols, killing everyone before they had a chance to activate the alarm or go for their weapons.

With the hostiles neutralized, Major Warden got the attention of his demolition expert. “Rig the area to blow,” he ordered.

Looking at his watch, Warden realized the others should have reached their positions by then and wondered how things were going on their end.

With the explosive charges set, the SAS team exited the facility and made their way back to the rendezvous point, where they would wait for the others and then slip back into the water and head back to the waiting submarine. Thirty minutes went by as the men stealthily made their way through the jungle, doing their best to leave no tracks and make as little noise as possible. Suddenly, there was a series of loud noises nearby.

Bang, bang, bang, boom!

A sequence of rifles and machine guns opened fire, maybe a quarter kilometer away from them in the direction of the airstrip. Then they heard what sounded like a grenade, or maybe an RPG round going off. Seconds later, the loud sound of an air raid siren, which must have been the base alarm, blared into the midnight air, rousing everyone on the island and alerting to them danger.

“Crap! What happened?” thought Major Warden. Everyone in the team now quickly moved to the beach where they’d stowed their gear.

Just as they were about to bust through the jungle cover in a final dash, a single gunshot rang out, and their point man’s head exploded. His body dropped to the ground. Everyone instantly hit the dirt as a fusillade of bullets ripped through the air where they had just been. Several of the SAS men immediately returned fire, matching the barrage of hot lead that the enemy soldiers were spewing at them.

The Navy SEAL with the team realized that they couldn’t let themselves get pinned down and threw a fragmentation grenade at the enemy. Then he jumped up and charged right at the Chinese forces, firing his Fostech Origin 12 semiautomatic 12-gauge shotgun. As he screamed and rushed toward the enemy, one of the SAS troops jumped up and followed him forward, only to be cut down in a hail of bullets.

Major Warden saw the SEAL take several hits, but he continued charging. In seconds, he had jumped into whatever the enemy was using for cover and had summarily gunned them all down before collapsing lifeless in a heap, surrounded by other dead bodies. The rest of the SAS men ran as quickly as they could to get to the rendezvous point where they met up with one of the other teams. As the remaining team members grabbed their underwater gear, mortar rounds landed not far from their position.

The shouts of Chinese soldiers and more gunfire rang out all around them as the enemy closed in on them and boxed them in. At that moment, Major Warden knew what he needed to do. “We need a diversion to lead the enemy away from the beach so you all can get away,” he said. “I’m going to run a few hundred meters to the south, and then I’ll head into the water. I’ll swim over to the reef, and you guys can pick me up from there.”

The others in the team nodded, not wanting to challenge him on his logic, even though they all knew the likelihood of him meeting them at the reef was low. If nothing happened, they realized they would all probably die there.

“Let me blow the charges now, Major,” said the demolition expert. “That will at least cause them to turn away from us so you can have a chance to make a run for it.” He pulled the remote detonator from his pocket.

Warden nodded as he changed out his magazine, placing a fresh one in its place. A second later, the small island was rocked by two large explosions, which caused a massive fireball to appear in the night sky.

Major Warden made his break. He took off at breakneck speed, firing at the enemy as he ran, making a lot of noise. He also shouted in English and made it sound like his team was trying to coordinate an escape.

The loud ruckus had the desired effect, and the enemy shifted their fire toward Major Warden and began following him in hot pursuit. As the enemy ran after their squadron commander, the remaining members of the team moved quickly into the water and swam out to the break in the reef, where they’d stowed their underwater vehicle.

One of the team members stayed near the reef on the surface of the water, waiting with his scuba gear on to see if Major Warden was going to make it. As he listened to the activity on shore, he heard Warden’s rifle firing for a while; then a couple of explosions went off, and he no longer heard the major’s rifle fire. At that point, the SAS man knew their squadron commander had either been captured or killed, and it was time to make their way back to the sub. Major Warden had given his life so his team could get away and fight on another day.

It was still dark outside as the amphibious assault ships moved through the murky waters of the Java Sea, past Karimunjawa Island. In the distance, some fires were burning on the island. In the sky above them, Navy fighter jets whooshed by as they conducted their aerial dance of death with Chinese and Indonesia warplanes. On the flight decks of the troop transports, the roar of helicopters spinning up overshadowed the sounds of aerial combat.

The soldiers of Fourth Platoon, Alpha Company, Third Battalion, 81^st Infantry Brigade lifted the eighty-six-pound packs onto their shoulders as they lined up to head to the flight deck. From there, they would board one of the waiting helicopters, which would whisk them away to the unknown, and hopefully not certain death.

Snapping his magazine pouch closed and then grabbing his pack, Lieutenant Slater placed the heavy load on and picked up his rifle. He found himself wondering how he landed in this situation again. He wasn’t supposed to go back to a line unit. Somehow, he had survived battle in Korea and capture by the Chinese, and now, here he was, doing it all over again in the Pacific.

Several months into Ian’s new training gig at Fort Lewis-McCord, Captain Wilkes had informed him that the battalion they’d been training was being sent to the South Pacific; the NCOs and officers that had been carrying out the training would be deploying with them as their permanent leadership. Before Ian could voice his objection, Wilkes handed him a pair of silver bars, telling him he was being promoted to first lieutenant and would be taking over command of Fourth Platoon, Alpha Company. Three weeks later, the entire battalion found themselves boarding a troop ship in Australia headed to the Java Sea.

“Lieutenant, you ready for this?” asked Captain Wilkes. He walked up to Ian with that naïve excitement a soldier has before he’s seen combat.

Slater shook his head. “I don’t think I have much of a choice,” he replied glumly. The two of them waited for the word to head out to the flight deck to board the helicopters.

Leaning in closer so only the two of them could be heard, Captain Wilkes said, “Look, Slater, I know you’re not pleased about being sent back into combat. I’d be fuming if I were in your shoes, too. You know I went to bat for you with the colonel to try and get you out of this deployment, right? Unfortunately, right now I need you to suck it up and do the best you can to keep your platoon alive. Can you do that for me?” Wilkes asked with a bit of concern and fear showing in his eyes.

Letting a deep breath out, Slater looked up and placed his hand on the captain's shoulder. “Sir, I may complain softly to myself or to you, but you have always been able to count on me. My platoon will do what’s necessary to accomplish our mission. That may mean a lot of them have to die — that’s a risk we all have to accept when we go into combat. Just make sure you’re ready yourself, to lead us. Don’t freeze up when the bullets fly, because trust me, every plan we’ve put together is going to get thrown out the window once the fighting starts,” he said.

Wilkes nodded, knowing Slater was right. When Ian had first shown up to his command, he hadn’t known what to make of the sergeant with a bad attitude. As he had gotten to know him, he had seen the attitude was more of an act, something that helped him deal with his fear and pain. Lieutenant Slater had taught him and the other officers and NCOs a lot about what it was like to be in combat, and how quickly things could get thoroughly bungled. The greatest asset they had in a battle was to be fearless and aggressive and remember that the other guy didn’t want to be there any more than they did.

“Thanks, Lieutenant. You help me guide the company through this crap storm we’re about to wade through, and I’ll get you through being an officer… deal?” Wilkes asked with a smile on his face as he stuck his hand out.

Laughing at the comment, Slater shook his hand. “Sure thing, Sir. Besides, your wife said she’d kill me if I didn’t make sure you returned home,” he replied. The two chuckled briefly before one of the other sergeants walked up to them and told them the rest of the platoons were ready to move.

Twenty minutes went by before one of the crewmen from the ship said it was time for them to file up the ladder that would take them to the flight deck. The 260 soldiers of Alpha Company made their way up three levels through the ladder well until they emerged through a side door on the superstructure that opened up to the flight deck. Once there, they were greeted with the smells of jet fuel and seawater, and the roaring engines of dozens of helicopters.

The sun had just crested over the horizon, bringing the new day to life. When Lieutenant Slater walked out onto the flight deck, the morning twilight revealed nearly a dozen V-22 Ospreys and CH-47 Chinooks, along with lines of infantrymen feeding into the flying chariots of war. Slater stood to the side of the door once he exited and encouraged each of the soldiers in his platoon to move forward to the helicopter they were being directed to. One by one, the soldiers exited the stairwell and made their way to one of the Ospreys. When the last soldier of his platoon exited, Slater got back in line and followed them.

His platoon was being filtered into two of the tiltrotor aircraft. This was the first time Slater had ever flown in one of these new types of helicopters, and he had to admit, he was pretty excited. He had flown in Blackhawks and Chinooks, but never an Osprey. Ducking his head out of instinct as he approached the loading ramp, he walked into the cargo bay and found the last seat, next to the landing ramp and the rear door gunner/crew chief.

Within seconds of getting settled into his seat, the Osprey lifted off the deck along with the other helicopters and turned toward land. Slater looked out the ramp; he was amazed at the sight of the warships below them. He had never seen so many different types of ships. Looking back at the soldiers in his platoon, he saw that many of them were as impressed with the display of naval might as he was. A few of his men were whispering prayers or playing with their rosary beads, and otherwise engaging in any other ritual they felt might help keep them alive.

While the Ospreys picked up speed, Ian saw dozens upon dozens of other helicopters fall into formation. He also spotted a number of Super Cobra gunships at the fringes of the formation, probably their escorts. Twenty minutes went by, and then the helicopters dropped down low, flying just above the water.

The sun had finally risen above the water, revealing more of the world around them, as well as the danger they were now about to fly in to. When their armada of helicopters approached the coasts of Java, small black puffs of smoke appeared in their midst, shaking nearby aircraft and throwing shrapnel in every direction. This was quickly followed by bursts of green tracer fire crisscrossing back and forth across the sky. The attack helicopters that had been escorting them broke off and engaged the enemy guns.

The crew chief and tail gunner closest to Lieutenant Slater turned to him and signaled they were now two minutes away from landing. Slater turned to his soldiers and gave them the same message. Most of the soldiers either gave him a thumbs-up or nodded in acknowledgment.

The Osprey turned hard to the left as they flew over the beach, which gave Slater an exceptional view of the city, intermixed with enemy tracer fire and black pillars of smoke on the ground. Before Slater knew what was happening, the Osprey flared its nose up hard and then landed with a thud on the ground. The door gunner signaled for everyone to get off the aircraft quickly.

Lieutenant Slater ran off the aircraft and quickly darted toward a cluster of trees near the junction of Highway 1 and Highway 5, which ran from the port city of Cirebon to Jakarta, 197 kilometers away. Looking behind him, Slater saw the rest of his platoon was quickly following him to the tree line. Once they were all off the Osprey, it took off and headed back to the ship they had just left.

Once they had all fanned out inside the trees, Slater directed the squad leaders to get a perimeter set up. They needed to move quickly and get their roadblock established and dig in a defensive position. His platoon had been charged with setting up a roadblock on Highway 5 and making sure no one was able to get toward Cirebon. The other platoons were setting up positions on Highway 1 and the town around the road junction.

One of the sergeants began to string a roll of concertina wire across the two lanes of traffic that headed toward the coast. They left the other two lanes open for the moment — if people wanted to leave the area, they were more than willing to let them. Their orders were to not let anyone head to the port city, but they were not about to stop anyone from leaving it.

A couple of his soldiers found some vehicles and drove them to the coiled wire, using the vehicles to help act as a barrier. A few vehicles that saw their roadblock approached them cautiously, apparently not aware at first that they were American soldiers and not Indonesian units, and asked what the roadblock was being set up for.

When Slater looked over and saw two of his soldiers having a very animated conversation with one of the drivers, he signaled for their lone translator to come with him to investigate what was going on. As they approached the vehicle, where the argument was growing louder, Lieutenant Slater saw more and more vehicles were approaching the checkpoint.

“This isn’t good,” he thought.

“What’s the problem, Specialist Tailor?” Slater asked. “Just tell them to turn around and go back where they came from.”

Tailor sighed audibly. “I tried that, Sir. He doesn’t want to listen, and I can’t speak whatever language it is they speak here,” the soldier said, clearly frustrated with what was going on.

Shaking his head, Lieutenant Slater walked up to the vehicle with the translator. At this point, the driver looked like he suddenly had an epiphany and said in broken English. “You American soldiers?”

Slater snorted and pointed at the American flag patch on his uniform. He turned to his translator. “Tell this guy that, yes, we are American soldiers. He needs to turn around and go back to wherever he came from. He cannot travel down this road.”

The translator and the driver conversed rapidly in their native tongue. The driver was clearly furious that he could not continue down the road, but eventually, he turned around and left. This scenario played out a few more times before the rest of the drivers figured out they could not drive down this road and turned their vehicles around.

Four hours later, after they’d turned away a lot of angry drivers, a column of Australian tanks and other armored vehicles traveled down the road toward them. They slowed briefly, and then passed through their checkpoint, continuing down the road that would eventually lead them to the capital city of Jakarta. It was hoped that if the ANZACs and Americans could land forces quickly on Java, they could make a mad dash for the capital and potentially capture the government during the ensuing confusion.

An hour after the first column of armored vehicles passed their positions, a second armored column followed the first, and then a long supply convoy followed them. Ten hours into the landings, the vehicles for Alpha Company, Third Battalion, 81st Infantry Brigade finally arrived, and they were able to hand over their roadblock position to a military police unit while they did their best to try and catch up to the ANZAC forces that should by now be encircling the capital. It was hoped they could convince the government to surrender the city, rather than forcing them to have to fight it out. By surrounding the city quickly, they could prevent any local military units from reinforcing it or coming to the aide of the government. The key to this operation was speed.

Lieutenant Slater was sitting in the back of the Stryker vehicle as they raced down Highway-1 to Jakarta. “Lieutenant, you think we’re going to see any action when we get to Jakarta?” asked one of the young privates. He fiddled with one of the ammo cans, grabbing an extra hundred-round belt for his M249 machine gun. The kid was young, but he was built like an ox — a true corn-fed farm boy from Kansas.

“Private Anderson, if everything goes well, we won’t have to fire a shot, and the enemy will surrender,” he replied to the obvious dismay of the young soldiers surrounding him.

Slater had to remember that these young guys had just graduated from basic training, and they hadn’t experienced the horrors of combat yet. “To be young and naïve like that again…” he thought glumly.

His radio crackled. “Alpha Four Six, this is Alpha Six,” said Captain Wilkes. “The Aussies ran into some enemy units near the outskirts of Jakarta. They’re moving now to encircle the city. We’ve been directed to head straight into the city. I’m sending you the grid. You’re the lead platoon for the company, and we’re guiding the battalion into the city. Stay frosty and lead the way.”

“Copy that Alpha Six,” Slater responded. “We’ll keep you apprised as we enter the city.”

“So, where are we heading, Sergeant?” Lieutenant Slater asked Staff Sergeant Nassem, his platoon sergeant, who was busy entering the coordinates into their navigation system. They were only an hour away from the outskirts of the city at this point.

Nassem let out a soft whistle. “You aren’t going to believe this, LT. We’re going straight for the president. The coordinates they sent take us right to Istana Merdeka, adjacent to Merdeka Square. It’s basically the Indonesian version of the White House,” he replied. The men in the back of the vehicle went through a series of emotions from excited to terrified and everything in between.

Slater knew they’d be driving into a firestorm. He immediately switched his radio frequency over to the platoon net to let everyone know what was going on.

“Listen up, Bulldogs,” he announced. “The captain just sent us the coordinates for our next objective. Our battalion has been given the task of securing the presidential palace and capturing as much of the government as possible. That means we’re going to be driving right into the heart of the city and will most likely meet resistance from the security forces assigned to protect the president and other members of the government.”

He paused for a second, wanting to let some of that information sink in. “All drivers, you need to stay frosty on this. Speed is the key to our success. I need you to do whatever you have to in order to keep us moving. We’re going to hit a lot of traffic and a lot of panicked civilians. Drive on the sidewalks, medians, opposite lanes of traffic if you have to, but do not stop. We cannot allow ourselves to get stuck and not be able to move, or worse, get trapped. If you have to run over a few cars to keep us moving or push them out of the way, then do it.”

A few of the men in his Stryker started to look a bit nervous as they overheard these instructions. It was going to be a bumpy ride.

“When we get close to the residence, I want the lead vehicle to breach the gate or walls or whatever you have to, but drive straight up to the entrance of the building,” Slater continued. “Once we’re there, whichever squad it is that makes it there, you need to secure the area. The next two squads to show up are going to breach the building, and we’ll move as quickly as possible to find the president and round up prisoners. We can do this. Out.”

“Thank God for frequency-hopping radios,” thought Lieutenant Slater. That would have made a very long transmission. Slater laughed to himself about how he’d just broken every radio protocol he’d ever been taught. Brushing that thought aside, he knew it was imperative his men knew what to do, and if breaking the norms saved a few of his guys from getting killed, then forget protocol. “I’m the guy in charge of this platoon, and I’ll run it as I see fit,” he thought, standing up straighter.

Ten minutes later as they neared the outer ring road of the city, they caught their first glimpses of combat. Several Indonesian armored personnel carriers were burning wrecks on the side of the highway. There were also a number of dead enemy soldiers strewn about the area, as well as at least one Australian armored vehicles burning along the road. When their platoon got closer to the first major ring road, they saw a couple of Australian tanks and infantrymen fighting it out with a small contingent of enemy soldiers.

Seeing the blockage forming, Sergeant Nassem got Lieutenant Slater’s attention. “Sir, we’re about to hit a major bottleneck, and it looks like the Australians haven’t fully cleared it of enemy soldiers yet. I have an idea that might work to get us around it. Before I joined the Army, I spent a year here in Jakarta as part of a study abroad program. There’s another road we can take that’s a bit more off the beaten path, but it’ll get us to Merdeka Square a lot quicker than trying to fight it out on the major roads, which will surely be roadblocked,” he informed him.

The two talked for a couple of moments and looked at a couple of maps of the city and their Blue Force Tracker before deciding on what to do. Once they had outlined the new route they would take, they entered the path into the navigation computer and sent the proposal to Captain Wilkes and the battalion CO. Meanwhile, the rest of the battalion at this point had all caught up to them as they waited on the highway for the Australian tanks to clear them a path. The enemy had apparently set up a number of antitank missiles and other vehicles to slow the Australians down. Two Aussie tanks had been destroyed along with a few other armored vehicles while they tried to clear a path.

Fifteen minutes after proposing their plan, the battalion CO came over the radio. “Lead the way,” he ordered. “We’ll follow you.”

Smiling, Slater slapped his sergeant on the shoulder. “Good job, Nassem. Now if you just spoke the language better…,” he said jokingly. Despite having spent a year there, his skills in Indonesian and Javanese were quite rudimentary. Nassem had told him that he had spent too much time during his study abroad program chasing skirts and partying with classmates. Slater had wondered how much fun those parties really could have been, given the country’s strict rules about alcohol consumption.

In minutes, their column had found an off-ramp. They snaked their way through a number of now-empty city streets. A lot of the locals had either decided to hunker down in whatever building they were already in or were moving on foot. Any military-looking vehicles moving around on the streets were being engaged by Allied attack helicopters or drones.

When they turned down Menteng Raya Street, they hit the first major obstacle of traffic. The road heading toward Merdeka Square was packed with cars, buses and other vehicles overloaded with people trying to flee the fighting. When Slater’s six eight-wheeled Strykers turned onto the road, mass panic by the civilians began to ensue. Most of these people had never seen an American infantry fighting vehicle.

Seeing the traffic problem, Sergeant Nassem told the driver, “Veer over into the opposite lane of traffic. It’s practically empty. People are trying to flee the Allied troops, not drive into them.”

As Slater’s platoon veered over to the opposite side of the road, the rest of the company and battalion followed them. They continued moving along unhindered until they got within eyesight of Merdeka Square. Once there, an enemy armored vehicle suddenly appeared and fired a slew of machine-gun rounds at them. A couple dozen enemy soldiers also emerged and fired at them as well.

The gunner manning the 30mm autocannon didn’t need to wait to be told to fire back, and immediately sent a dozen depleted uranium rounds into the enemy armored vehicle, which summarily blew it up. The rest of the soldiers in Slater’s Stryker, who were already standing up through the troop hatches, opened fire on the enemy soldiers as their vehicle continued to race toward them. Not stopping, their vehicle zipped right past the now-burning enemy vehicle and the enemy soldiers still firing away at them and their comrades.

Busting out onto Merdeka Square ring road, they gunned the engines and raced across the square toward the presidential building and the other government buildings. Slater stood up and held a set of field glasses to his eyes to try and get a better look; of course, that was challenging to do considering how fast they were racing across the square, but he spotted a couple of very expensive-looking vehicles near the entrance, with a lot of people running all over the place. Sensing that this might be the president trying to make a break for it, he ordered the gunner, “Send a few dozen rounds at those vehicles at the entrance. I want you to destroy them.”

“You’re not getting away if I can help it,” thought Slater.

In a matter of minutes, they were at the gates of the building, next to the vehicles that were probably meant to whisk the president and his staff away. They weren’t going anywhere — they had all been engulfed by flames. Bulldozing their way through the front gate, Slater’s group of six Strykers drove right up to the front of the building before they finally stopped. They all jumped out of their vehicles. Slater’s first squad engaged the remaining security personnel outside the building, while the other three squads busted their way through the front door of the government edifice. As they ran into the entrance, two of his men were gunned down by a slew of gunfire from the security guards inside.

“Hold up, guys!” yelled Lieutenant Slater. “Toss some grenades in the room, and then we’ll charge in.”

Sergeant Nassem grabbed two grenades from his chest rig and handed one to the soldier standing next to him. They both pulled the pins on the grenades, counted two seconds and then threw them in.

Boom! Boom!

“Now!” yelled Slater as Sergeant Nassem led his squad into the room. Confusion reigned as many machine guns started firing and voices in both English and Indonesian were shouting to be heard above the din of battle. Seconds after Nassem’s squad entered the room, the next squad went in to support them. In less than two minutes, they had cleared the first room and fanned out inside this massive building.

Lieutenant Slater told Nassem and his squad, “Follow me to the roof. We might by chance catch the president trying to escape using a helicopter.”

Before they moved, he ordered the other two squads to begin clearing the rooms and rounding up prisoners. As Slater started to head to the stairwell, he spotted Captain Wilkes entering the building from the corner of his eye.

“Good, the rest of the company is here,” he thought. “That’s a lot more soldiers to add to the mix.”

Huffing and puffing by the time they got to the top landing of the stairwell that would open up to the roof, they paused to catch their breath and then tossed a couple of grenades through the door. Seconds after the explosions, they ran through the opening onto the roof, expecting to be surrounded by security guards. Instead, there was no one up there at all. They had just blown up the air conditioning units.

Once he realized there was no danger, Lieutenant Slater plopped down on the ground. “Hmm… I guess they either got out another way, or the president had been evacuated before we got here,” he said to the soldiers around him, who likewise had sat down on the ground to rest for a second and catch their breath. Lugging eighty pounds of body armor and weapons and a CamelBak up four flights of stairs while fighting your way through an enormous government building was extremely physically exhausting.

After a moment of rest, Slater recovered enough to come up with a new plan. “OK, guys, let’s head back down and help the rest of the platoon and company clear the building and round up prisoners.”

Before walking down though, Slater took a quick look across the city from the top of the building. He could see black pillars of smoke rising from many areas of the metropolis. He could also hear tons of machine-gun fire and see dozens of red and green tracers bouncing off buildings and armored vehicles, adding to the chaotic scene unfolding all around them. He glanced to the side and saw that most of the other men were likewise transfixed by the scene.

“As much as I want to stand here and look at everything going on, we all need to get back downstairs,” Slater said, breaking his own trance. “We still have a job to do, guys.”

It took them another hour to round up all the people from within the building. They herded them all into a couple of large rooms and then slowly identified who was who and moved the high-value individuals to a few separate rooms the battalion intelligence folks had set up to question them.

Many of the new prisoners were clearly stunned to see American and Australian soldiers standing in the presidential building. They couldn’t fathom how this could have happened so quickly, or how their military had so epically failed them.

During the mad dash to capture Jakarta, the US, Australian and New Zealand forces managed to catch the bulk of the government by surprise with the swiftness of their landing at Cirebon. From the time they landed and secured the port and beachhead to the time they advanced on Jakarta, only roughly nineteen hours had elapsed. The Indonesian Army had been confident the Allies would wait to advance on the city until they had offloaded all their armored units and other forces, and they had figured they would have at least two full days to get the city prepared to meet the invaders. They were caught completely by surprise by how fast the Allies just rushed units straight from the port to the capital.

The lightning dash netted the Allies the Vice President of Indonesia, the Indonesian Minister of Defense, the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the majority of the cabinet. The president had been able to escape and had made it to Malaysia before being flown away to China, where he’d attempt to set up a government in exile. With the capture of the majority of the government officials, the Vice President, who was considered the leader of the country by the majority of the people, ordered the Minister of Defense to order the surrender of Indonesian forces to the Allies. There was no reason to lose any more civilians or soldiers to a war that, for them, was already lost.