Battlefield Taiwan

Battle of the Hill

Sergeant Lin yawned as he stretched his arms and shoulders. His body felt sore from the physical work of turning this hilltop and ridge area into the stronghold it had become. After stretching his aching muscles, he bent down and picked up his body armor, sliding it on over his head. Lin tightened up the vest a bit, making sure it fit nice and snug against his body.

It was 0600 hours and time to get the day started. With a lot of help from the engineers, his unit had turned Hill 137 into a formidable fortress. They had also built a series of bunkers over the past ten days to help ride out any potential enemy bombardments the mainlanders might try to throw at them.

Lin shrugged. “I really hope the politicians are able to sort things out,” he thought. “We need more time to prepare if we’re really going to go to war.”

While outwardly, he would never show any emotion except strength and resolve in front of his soldiers and officers, inwardly, he was just as nervous and uncertain about the future as everyone else.

Sergeant Lin pulled a pack of Pall Mall cigarettes out of one of the pockets on his body armor. He slapped the pack a couple of times against his hand, pulled a cigarette out and lit it. Lin held it to his lips and took a long pull, lifting his head slightly to face the sky and then slowly releasing the smoke. The nicotine began to calm his nerves.

“I just hope my family will be Ok if war does break out,” he thought.

He looked over to the mess tent and saw the line was starting to form.

“I better get some food,” he realized. “Today is going to be another long day of work while we put all the finishing touches on our fortifications.”

As the line steadily moved along, Lin was given his breakfast, and he found a seat near several of the junior sergeants. Lin had just taken his first bite when the first siren blared. Everyone paused mid-bite as the wailing sound pierced the morning air. The noise echoed and grew in volume, spreading across the nearby cities and destroying the solemn silence of the morning.

Lin jumped to his feet and shouted, “Everyone to the bunkers, now!”

The soldiers immediately grabbed the weapons that had been sitting on the ground next to their chairs, leaving their breakfasts where they were. They all raced to the underground bunkers that had essentially just been completed the day before. The engineers had just finished placing a couple feet of dirt on the roofs, and they had all spent the better part of the previous day moving crates of additional ammunition and other supplies into the bunkers before turning in for bed.

While the soldiers rushed into the bunkers, a couple of men chose to remain in the reinforced machine gun positions to spot for possible enemy ships. These men would alert the others to leave the bunker and man their battle stations when the time came.

In less than three minutes, the rest of the 200 soldiers stationed on Hill 137 had reached the four designated bunkers. Each bunker could hold around 50 men and acted as the supply depot for the portion of the defensive line and fortress it was near.

The soldiers in the bunker with Sergeant Lin looked to him with scared looks on their faces, almost pleading for him to tell them that this was just some sort of drill and not the real thing. Lin, for his part, tried to look strong and stoic. Inwardly, he was both excited and scared. He had spent his whole life in the army up to this point training for this very scenario.

Just as he was about to say something to try and calm everyone’s nerves, the first missile landed on their little hill. The bunker shook violently. Everyone looked up at the ceiling, unsure if it would hold. The ground shook again, violently, then again and again. The thunderous booms of explosions filled the air.

Sergeant Lin looked at the faces of his men, most of whom were casting glances at the ceiling between each violent shake of the earth. Where before he had seen fear in their eyes, he now saw anger and a determined resolve to do their jobs and defend their country. At that moment, he felt immensely proud of his soldiers. Their training was now starting to replace the fear and trepidation they had once felt with grit and a force of will.

The bombardment lasted for nearly three hours, though the intensity ebbed and flowed. At times, they thought it had ended when five minutes would go by and they heard nothing, but then a few more rockets or missiles would land nearby and remind them that the mainlanders had not forgotten about them.

Suddenly, the field phone sitting near Sergeant Lin rang. He looked at it in surprise, almost having forgotten that it was there. Then he remembered that he needed to pick it up.

“This is Sergeant Lin,” he said formally, unsure of who was calling them.

“This is Corporal Cho in Bunker Three. Bunker Four is reporting enemy landing craft in sight and said they are going to engage them with their anti-ship missiles.”

Lin thought for a moment. “The mainlanders must have skipped Kinmen Island altogether if they are landing here so quickly,” he realized.

He acknowledged the soldier’s message and hung up. Everyone in the bunker was now staring at him, waiting to learn what had just transpired. Lin smiled and stood, which made everyone else stand as well.

“Bunker Four is starting to engage communist landing craft. The mainlanders will be here shortly. I want everyone to man their battle stations and prepare to repel this dastardly invasion of our homeland. Remember, our families and country are depending on us to hold our ground. Let’s go show them what we’re made of!” he shouted.

Sergeant Lin led the way out of the bunker, through the network of trenches to their fighting positions. His company had two heavy machine gun positions and two antitank bunkers to defend, with one of the antitank bunkers also acting as the command center. Just behind their position were a couple of trucks, which had several anti-ship missiles on them. A couple of soldiers in two of his bunkers had laser designators, which would help guide the missiles to their intended targets.

As he arrived in the command bunker, he saw the captain there, along with the couple of radio operators that would help to coordinate the defense of the hill. The command bunker would essentially direct the various bunkers’ fields of fire, depending on where the heaviest concentration of enemy soldiers was.

One of the soldiers in the bunker was using the laser designators to paint one of the large Yuting III-class land ship tanks that could carry multiple amphibious assault crafts and hovercraft ashore. The ship was still several miles off the coast, but clearly taking up position to begin disgorging their troops. While the soldier was lasing the target, an anti-ship missile flew over their bunker and raced out to sea, skimming just above the water at nearly Mach speed. It took only a few seconds for the missile to travel the distance and plow into the rear of the LST, just above the waterline.

For a brief moment, nothing seemed to happen as the missile’s semi-armor-piercing tip punctured the hull of the LST and plowed deeper inside. Then the warhead exploded, sending flame and shrapnel out the hole it had just punched through. The LST shook violently from the explosion and listed heavily to the side, with the rear of the ship filling up quickly with water. Only two ZBD2000 amphibious armored fighting vehicles made it out of the ship before its entire rear half slipped beneath the waves.

Any sense of victory was blunted when the smoke began to clear in the ocean before them, and they saw dozens of LSTs of all sizes had moved into position, along with a number of smaller patrol boats and corvettes.

The soldier who had lased the first LST and sunk it quickly moved his targeting laser to the next ship and began the process all over again. He would continue to work with the missile trucks, guiding anti-ship missiles into the LSTs until either they ran out of missiles or the trucks themselves were destroyed.

While the ocean was now starting to fill up with ZBD2000s and hovercrafts heading towards the shore, the antitank bunkers fired their guided missiles at the armored vehicles quickly approaching. Each of these vehicles typically carried eight soldiers, so taking them out at sea would save them a lot of trouble.

Sergeant Lin called over to one of the antitank bunkers. “Hey, we need to focus on those hovercrafts! Just one of them can carry as many as two hundred soldiers. If we don’t take them out, it won’t be long before a few thousand soldiers arrive on the beach. We can focus on the ZBDs when they make landfall.”

Lin knew they had armor support units being held in reserve; their captain would call upon them once the enemy tanks landed. The infantry, though, could cause them all kinds of problems if they established a foothold.

Just as the soldiers were responding to the changing orders, Lin’s bunker shook violently from an explosion. One of the patrol boats had darted in closer to the shore and had fired a round from its turret at them, and it had nearly succeeded in landing the round right through the gun slits in the bunker. There was no time to dwell on the near-death they had all just experienced; everyone shook off the effects of the explosion and went back to the business of repelling the invasion.

It didn’t take long before the first wave of amphibious vehicles made it to the shore and began to speed up the beach, trying to rush up the highway and reach the base of their little fortress on Hill 137. Fortunately for Lin and his men, as the vehicles moved up the beach, the series of mines that the engineers had planted began to explode, ripping the ZBDs and light tanks apart with no effort.

Lin looked to his right. A hovercraft glided right up on the beach, dropping its front ramp. In seconds, dozens upon dozens of soldiers rushed forward, firing their weapons in the direction of his men. As quickly as the hovercraft had arrived and unloaded its human cargo, it moved back to sea to pick up another load to bring to the beach.

“It’s already starting to happen,” thought Sergeant Lin with dread. “The very thing I feared — the human wave of communist amphibious vehicle and hovercrafts will overrun us with more troops than we could ever possibly kill.”

One of the soldiers who had been manning a T74 machine gun died violently as his head exploded. He had been hit by a heavy-caliber bullet, leaving his machine gun silent at a critical moment.

Lin immediately rushed to the soldier and grabbed the machine gun, placing the butt of it firmly in his shoulder. He proceeded to let loose a controlled burst at a group of People’s Liberation Army soldiers who were charging one of the gun bunkers less than two hundred meters away from him.

He turned to one of the privates nearby and yelled, “Ammo! Keep me stocked with ammo!”

The private immediately grabbed one of the crates next to the dead soldier and pulled out several 100-round belts. He attached one of the belts to the current one Sergeant Lin was burning through, so he wouldn’t have to stop and reload.

Lin nodded to the private, which was the only thanks he had the time to give out. Then he pointed to the gun before making his next request. “Pour some water on the barrel. Keep pouring water on the barrel and keep the belts linked, OK?”

The young soldier nodded and grabbed one of the nearby water bottles, emptying it over the barrel of the gun, which was starting to steam and smoke from the heat of the constant use.

Sergeant Lin heard the captain yelling on the radio for artillery support and additional reinforcements.

“Good, he’s calling in the artillery. We just might be able to stop this first wave,” he thought.

Sergeant Lin spotted another hovercraft coming in quickly, almost directly in front of his machine gun, so he turned and aimed right for the landing ramps, waiting for them to drop so he could begin the process of mowing down the enemy soldiers that would emerge. The private next him had just linked another belt to the one he was currently using and poured another bottle of water over the barrel, since Lin had stopped shooting for a few seconds. They desperately needed to change the barrel, but there just wasn’t time. They needed to keep firing if they had any hope of survival.

Just as the hovercraft was moving onto the beach, an explosion hit the front of their bunker, knocking nearly everyone inside to the floor. Sergeant Lin smacked the ground hard. Something hit him, searing his left arm. He shook off the effects of the explosion and immediately climbed back to the machine gun. He didn’t even take a moment to look around the bunker to see if anyone else had been injured or killed.

He trained the machine gun back to the hovercraft just in time to see the front ramp drop. He immediately squeezed the trigger, pouring dozens of controlled bursts right into the nearly 200 PLA soldiers charging off the hovercraft. Lin just kept firing and firing until the barrel of his machine gun was glowing red and he ran out of ammo.

The sergeant turned to yell at the private to load more ammo and pour additional water on the barrel, only to see the private had bled out on the floor behind him from a shrapnel wound to his neck. Then he surveyed the rest of the bunker and realized he was the only one left alive.

Lin moved away from the machine gun as dozens of bullets peppered the face of his bunker. He grabbed the radio the captain had just been using and called to one of the other bunkers. “I need you to send a few soldiers over here. Everyone else at this bunker was killed, including the captain.”

The voice on the other end acknowledged his request. As Lin waited for additional soldiers to arrive, he grabbed a different radio and called for the quick-reaction force to be rushed forward, along with the tanks that were being held in reserve.

He heard a voice yelling over one of the other radio handsets, so he rushed over and grabbed the receiver. “This is Sergeant Lin, Bunker One, go ahead with your message,” he said in as calm a voice as he could muster. The incessant pounding of gunfire, explosions and men shouting was overwhelming. Just then, eight of his soldiers rushed into the bunker, pausing only long enough to survey the carnage of dead bodies on the floor.

“Change the barrels on the machine guns and get them operational!” he yelled at them before turning his attention back to the radio.

“Sergeant Lin, I was just talking to your captain. I was letting him know that nearly half of our artillery guns have been destroyed. We are just now shifting our fire to your sector. We are sending the first wave of six rounds right now. Please let us know if we need to adjust fire or just keep firing on the current positions,” the voice on the other end of the radio demanded.

“Yes, send the artillery,” Lin acknowledged. “I will radio back once I have seen them impact to let you know where to adjust fire,” he responded before placing the handset down on the crate near the other handsets and walking towards one of the gun slits.

His soldiers had gotten the two main machine guns working again and were already tearing into the PLA soldiers on the beach and the ones rushing across the highway to the base of their hill. Once the enemy soldiers made it to the base of the hill, it was up to the soldiers manning the various trenches and fighting positions to deal with them. The bunkers could really only focus on the beach and provide covering fire in support of each other’s positions.

Surveying the beach before him, Sergeant Lin grabbed his rifle and took careful aim at the soldiers trying to advance up the hill near one of their trench lines. His rifle barked with each carefully aimed shot. Each time, an enemy soldier collapsed.

He had fired off maybe five rounds when he heard the whistling sound of artillery coming in. Boom, boom, boom! Geysers of water, dirt, and sand sprouted into the air from the impacts of the 155mm high-explosive rounds. Dozens of PLA soldiers were thrown into the air from the concussions of the blasts. The six rounds had met their marks. Now Sergeant Lin had to ensure they kept coming.

He ran to the back of the bunker and grabbed the handset to the artillery. “Those rounds hit right on the money. Fire for effect, six rounds HE if you can. The PLA is starting to overrun our positions and we need that artillery,” he yelled over the concussions of gunfire and explosions going on all around him.

“Copy that, the rounds are on the way. Once these rounds are complete, we have to shift fire to the next sector. You’ll be on your own for a little while,” the voice from the artillery battalion responded.

“This is it,” Lin thought. “We won’t get another fire mission. The communist navy is going to hunt down these guns that have been punishing their troops on the beach.” His life began to flash before his eyes.

It took a little less than five minutes before the artillery barrage began to land throughout the beach, killing hundreds of PLA soldiers in the process of landing, along with those still trying to make it across the highway to the base of Hill 137.

Just as Sergeant Lin had hope that the enemy might actually be on the ropes, the bunker not more than 200 meters away from them exploded in spectacular fashion.

Lin surveyed the scene and spotted a Xian JH-7 fighter bomber flying low and fast across their bunkers and trench lines. Several oblong objects tumbled through the air towards them.

“Incoming! Everyone, drop to the ground!” Sergeant Lin yelled.

Seconds later, a thunderous explosion ripped through the air. Searing heat rushed across the hill as flames of napalm began to expand. The jellied liquid was thrown across the trench line and bunkers of Hill 137, marking everything it touched with devastation. Fortunately for Sergeant Lin and the soldiers next to him, the dangerous fuel did not fly through the gun slits of their bunker as it had one of the others. However, nearly the entire trench line had been saturated with the napalm.

Dozens of his soldiers screamed in agonizing pain as the material stuck to their clothes and burned through to their skin, then melted through their flesh to their bones, killing them in one of the most horrifying ways imaginable.

“Get back to the guns! Keep firing at the enemy. We have to keep them from overrunning our positions!” Sergeant Lin yelled, trying to get his soldiers to focus on the task at hand and not the burning carnage of their comrades. There was nothing they could do for them anyway; they needed to hold out long enough for their reinforcements to arrive and throw the invaders back into the ocean.

With several of their machine gun bunkers down and most of the soldiers in the trench line killed, the PLA ground forces were steadily advancing to the base of Hill 137 and working their way through the concertina wire Lin’s men had placed at various intervals to slow them down. Light and medium tanks were also starting to land at the beach.

The level of resistance they could provide had dwindled significantly since that fighter bomber had paid them a visit. Sergeant Lin grabbed one of the radio handsets and tried to raise their brigade headquarters. On the first couple of tries, he was unsuccessful. Once he was able to get through to someone, the colonel on the other end seemed very surprised that Hill 137 was still holding the line.

“All of the other beach strongpoints in your sector have fallen,” he explained. “What is left of the brigade is falling back to their secondary position.”

“Can you send additional reinforcements?” Lin asked. “We can continue to hold the hill if we get immediate support.”

There was a pause. The colonel was probably conferring with his counterparts on the other end. “Have what is left of your company fall back to the secondary position and rejoin the brigade. We have prepared additional fortifications, but we need all the soldiers we can get to man them.”

“Acknowledged,” Lin replied.

He set about doing his best to get word to the remaining soldiers to fall back. Once he had fired off the green flare and contacted the bunkers that were still able to answer his radio calls, he and four of the remaining soldiers in his bunker ran for their lives.

As they ran through the trench towards the back of the hill, they saw the charred bodies of their comrades, twisted, contorted, and still smoldering. The smell of burnt flesh hung in the air as the remaining survivors did their best to escape. One of the soldiers, who had been doing his best to keep up with Sergeant Lin, suddenly stopped and began to throw up from the sights and smells that were overwhelming him. After emptying the contents of his stomach, he shook off the horror and resumed running after his comrades.

When they reached the bottom of the hill, they found nearly two dozen other survivors, and collectively they moved as quickly as their feet would take them to the secondary position, roughly three kilometers away on another ridgeline. For the time being, their fight was over. They had done their duty to the best of their ability and had paid dearly for it. They had started the day with 220 soldiers. Now they were down to just twenty-eight.