Battlefield Taiwan

Ambush

“Could it possibly get any colder in this miserable place?” Sergeant Ian Slater said, more to himself than anyone else.

The 16^th Mechanized Brigade had crossed the Yalu River a couple of days after Christmas. They’d to fight like hell at the river as it was a natural barrier to their advance, but once the ROK forces had broken through, Sergeant Slater’s brigade had punched right through the hole they had created and gotten right into the PLA rear guard units. Within a day, they had rolled up twenty-two kilometers of the enemy line, trapping nearly 19,000 PLA soldiers and then forcing them to surrender. Once the PLA had realized they had multiple American brigades in their rear area, the entire front had collapsed, and they had withdrawn to just outside of Liaoyang, where they had finally stopped the American and ROK forces.

“Sergeant Slater, the captain is on the radio,” announced his radio operator. “He’s trying to reach you, says it’s important.” As soon as he finished speaking, he ducked his head back inside the new vehicle he had been riding in.

Taking one last pull on his cigarette, Ian filled his lungs, letting his body soak up as much nicotine as possible before exhaling it through his nose. He flicked his cigarette butt on the snow-covered ground and began to walk back to his tracked vehicle. After eight straight days of combat and racing all over the Chinese countryside and small villages and towns, his unit had been enjoying a down day a couple of miles behind the newly established frontlines. They all needed to catch some rest, rearm, and get some new replacement soldiers for the ones who had been either injured or killed.

Slater ducked his head as he stepped back into the track, and his radio man handed him the mic.

“Baker Six, this is Baker Three. How copy? Over,” he said.

As he waited, they heard several low-flying aircraft head over their position towards some unseen target. Moments later, there was a series of thunderous explosions.

“Those must have been off in the distance,” thought Sergeant Slater. “I didn’t feel any rumbling. The impacts must have been at least a mile away.”

“Baker Three, this is Baker Six. Get your platoon ready to move. We’ve been ordered to reinforce Echo Troop. I need your platoon to advance to their position. Make contact with them and then report back to me. How copy?” asked Captain Porter, a bit of urgency in his voice.

“I have to give the captain credit,” thought Slater. “For having been thrown into command of the troop three weeks ago, he’s done a halfway decent job of keeping the unit together and ensuring we didn’t get wiped out doing something stupid. Our troop losses have gone down significantly.”

Slater depressed the talk button on the mic. “That’s a good copy, Baker Six. We’ll be on the road in five mikes. Out.”

With that, he turned to the platoon frequency, ordering, “Everyone, be ready to pull out of your positions and follow my tracks in five mikes.”

Five minutes went by with little activity. Once Sergeant Slater was ready to roll out, he suddenly heard the screams of artillery flying over their heads towards the PLA positions.

“Friendly fire. Hope they smash the crap out of them before we get up there,” Slater thought.

They had just started moving their lead vehicle forward when the area around them suddenly erupted in thunderous explosions. The Chinese army was launching their own counterbattery fire, seeking out the guns that had just been firing on their troops.

“All Baker elements, move out!” Sergeant Slater yelled over the platoon net.

In seconds, their vehicle lurched forward and picked up speed, heading down the dirt path that would lead them to Echo Troop’s position. Fortunately, none of Slater’s vehicles took a direct hit as they made their way out of the artillery barrage and towards the front lines.

As they neared Echo Troop’s positions, the overwhelming percussion of heavy machine gun fire, explosions, and other sounds of war grew in intensity.

“Echo Six, this is Baker Three. We’re approaching your position. Where do you want us to deploy? Over.” Slater hoped the Echo Troop commander would respond quickly. It sounded like the front line might be getting overrun, given the volume of enemy fire.

“Baker Three, this is Echo Six. Move your vehicles to grid CH 7634 6538 and plug the hole in our lines. We have additional air support and artillery fire inbound,” the Echo Troop commander yelled back. In the background, Slater heard the 25mm main gun of the Bradley firing away at some unseen enemy.

“Geez, what the heck have we walked into?” Ian wondered.

He directed the four Bradleys in his platoon to the coordinates given to them and looked at the video display next to the vehicle commander. He saw an M1A2 Abrams battle tank burning, with the tank commander’s body half hanging out of the turret, burned and charred from the fire. Next to the tank were two Bradley vehicles, both torn apart by whatever weapon had hit them. At the berm in front of the destroyed American vehicles were a dozen infantry soldiers, doing their best to lay down suppressive fire against the Chinese infantry soldiers trying to advance towards them.

“Guide our vehicles between those burned-out tanks and tear into those enemy soldiers,” Slater directed. “Also, start looking for enemy tanks and other armored vehicles. If you spot them, take them out first. They’re the priority.”

Ian turned to look at the soldiers behind him. “When we stop, I want everyone to dismount and get yourselves positioned against the berm. Support the soldiers already there and hold the line. Is that understood?” he yelled to them.

“Yes, Sir!” they all yelled back, and they steeled their nerves as they prepared themselves to follow orders.

Slater grabbed the mic and relayed the same orders to the other three Bradleys in his platoon. Within seconds of arriving at the little hill, the enemy fire shifted from the soldiers who had been manning the berm to his four armored vehicles. Dozens and then probably hundreds of rounds started to bounce off the armor turret and body of their vehicle. The gunner in the turret swiveled the gun slightly to the right and fired off a short burst from his 25mm chain gun. He whooped and hollered, letting them know he had just wiped out half a dozen PLA soldiers who had tried to charge the hill.

“Enemy tank identified!” the track commander yelled.

“Switching to TOW!” the gunner shouted. In less than a second, they had acquired the enemy T-99 and had fired their TOW antitank missile, which leapt from the carrying tube and made its way quickly towards the enemy tank.

“Oh my God, he’s turning towards us. He’s going to shoot!” yelled the gunner.

“Hold steady. Our missile is almost there,” replied the tank commander in a much calmer voice.

“Should I even try to get out of the vehicle? I think it may be a bit too late,” Slater thought as he realized he might be about to die in a few seconds if that tank fired first.

Then, miraculously, the track commander yelled to his gunner, “Hit! We got him. Start looking for any additional tanks.”

Seeing that there was nothing Slater could do to help the guys manning the tracks, he grabbed the radio mic and tried to raise Captain Porter again. “Baker Six, this is Baker Three. How copy? Over.”

It took a minute to get a response, but Porter finally replied. “This is Baker Six, I copy. What’s your status, over?”

“Baker Six, we’ve reached the berm that is essentially the front line. We’re encountering massive numbers of enemy soldiers advancing on our position. We’ve destroyed one T-99 and believe there to be many more armored vehicles operating in this area. We’ve identified multiple friendly M1A2s destroyed. Requesting additional armor and infantry support if we’re to hold this position. How copy?” relayed Sergeant Slater.

Roughly thirty seconds went by before he heard a response. He was starting to get nervous as he waited, wondering what was going on at the other end of his call.

“Baker Three, I just received orders that the entire battalion is moving to your position. Stand by for assistance. Air support should also be inbound, so please be prepared. Out.” With that, Captain Porter signed off, and they were officially on their own until the rest of the battalion showed up. They just needed to hold the line until additional help arrived.

Since there was nothing left for Slater to do in the track, he reached over and grabbed his M4 to head out of the back. Fortunately, the snowfall had lifted; however, the temperature had dropped significantly. At last check, it was hovering around 10℉ during the day, and roughly -20℉ or even -30℉ at night. Slater trudged to the berm, where a couple of his soldiers were, and plopped himself down next to them. They were taking turns popping up to fire off three to five rounds at enemy soldiers before dropping below the crest of the hill and moving slightly to the right or left, alternating their firing positions.

Sergeant Slater stood up slightly, placing his head and rifle above the hill line and scanning the horizon for a target. What he saw scared him half to death. No more than 500 meters away from them was a wall of enemy soldiers moving towards them. A line two or three soldiers deep would run forward maybe ten meters and then drop to the ground, while another line of two or three soldiers deep would run past them for ten or twenty meters and then drop. Each line was leapfrogging each other as they advanced towards the American positions.

“Holy crap, that’s a lot of enemy soldiers,” he thought. “How in the world are we supposed to stop that?”

He aimed his rifle at the incoming horde, firing off a series of ten shots before dropping behind the ridge. Dozens of enemy rounds slammed into the earth, right where he had just been standing.

Soldiers from his platoon lined the berm, pouring as much rifle fire into the advancing enemy as possible. One of his heavy machine gunners swept his weapon back and forth, cutting many of Chinese soldiers down.

“Keep firing! Don’t stop!” Slater yelled to be heard over the roar of gunfire.

Ian popped up one more time, firing into the wave of humanity that kept charging their positions. He saw multiple enemy soldiers go down from the impact of his rounds, but they just kept coming. Slater looked back to the Bradley behind him (which was still firing its main gun into the enemy soldiers) and saw two of the vehicle crew members doing their best to get the TOW launcher reloaded. Just as it looked like they had completed that task, Slater heard a swooshing sound right over his head.

In shocked horror, Slater watched as the Bradley exploded. The two crew members who had been reloading the TOW missiles were simply blown apart, their bodies ripped into multiple pieces as they were thrown into the air.

“Tanks! Dozens of them!” shouted one of the soldiers about ten feet away from Ian.

Sergeant Slater pulled himself over the edge of the ridge and poked his head over to observe for himself. He saw a dozen T-99s heading towards them and a myriad of other infantry fighting vehicles, along with even more waves of soldiers behind them. They were still roughly 1,500 meters off, but it was enough to make his stomach churn.

Slater felt like he was going to throw up. They were already facing thousands of enemy soldiers, who were now less than 200 meters away and advancing quickly.

“Captain Porter and the rest of the company will be arriving shortly, and that will help with the enemy near us, but that won’t help us survive that second onslaught,” Ian realized.

Sergeant Slater yelled to his radio operator, “Raise the battalion! I need to let them know what we are facing!”

As he started to relay to battalion what they were seeing, two of the remaining Bradleys both fired off their TOW missiles at the incoming tanks.

“Sergeant! We have air support inbound,” said the forward air controller. “I need you to guide them in. Switch to channel six. Their call sign is Raven One.”

Slater could hear a lot of yelling in the background of the radio. “Sounds they have a lot going on there too,” Ian thought as he switched the radio preset.

“Raven One, this is Baker Three. We have troops in contact. Requesting emergency air support. How copy?” Ian yelled into the receiver to be heard over the cacophony of war happening all around him.

A second later, the pilot replied, “This is Raven One. We copy, Baker Three. Please proceed with coordinates and let us know what we’re looking for.”

Ian grabbed his notepad, which had their exact grid location written down, and relayed it to the pilots. “We have multiple human wave assaults danger close, 200 meters from our position. We also have nearly a dozen T-99s and close to two dozen assorted infantry fighting vehicles roughly 1,200 meters to our front. What type of ordnance do you have?” Slater asked.

“Baker Three, we’re a flight of four A-10s, and we have full combat load. Our first pass will be against the infantry assaulting your current position. Then we’ll move to focus on the enemy armor. Please pop yellow smoke so we can make sure we have your lines identified,” directed the pilot.

Slater looked up and yelled to several of the soldiers around him, “Start throwing your yellow smoke grenades behind us. Pass this order down the line!”

After a momentary flutter of activity, a yellow pillar of smoke appeared behind Slater and his men.

“We see the smoke. We’re coming in hot from the north,” the pilot said as their aircraft appeared out of the clouds from the north.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see an A-10 as I am right now,” Ian thought as he fought the fear that was still growing inside of him.

As the aircraft descended, the four of them leveled out in a line, slightly behind each other. Their 30mm chain guns made their unmistakable buurrrppp sound as thousands of rounds began to tear into the waves of PLA soldiers that were nearly on top of them. In seconds, hundreds, maybe even thousands of PLA soldiers were obliterated into chunks of flesh and mists of blood.

While the Warthogs were going in for their attack run, a heavy volume of tracer fire erupted from the Chinese lines, in an attempt to blot the four-attack aircraft from the sky. A couple of missiles leapt into the air, leaving ominous trails of smoke in their wake.

The A-10’s defensive systems went into effect, launching out multiple flares to distract the missiles. Two of the missiles went right for the flares and detonated harmlessly. The other missiles missed entirely, and the sweet angels of death circled around for a second pass at the enemy armor.

As the Warthogs lined up for their next attack, nearly a dozen anti-aircraft missiles were shot at them from the Chinese lines. One of the flying tanks took a direct hit to one of its engines, but the pilot still continued his attack run, relentless in his effort to provide Ian and his men as much help as possible. Fortunately for Ian, none of the other incoming missiles did anything to stop the A-10s from completing their mission.

When the Warthogs flew across the enemy lines, they released a series of hellfire missiles and cluster bombs across the entire enemy position. Explosions rocked the area. Parts of armored vehicles, tanks, and even enemy soldiers were launched into the air, and the horizon filled with smoke and flames.

Ian heard a lot of his soldiers whooping and hollering at the destruction the A-10s had just wrought. The victory would be short-lived. Seconds later, Ian saw one of the Warthogs explode into a million tiny little pieces.

As he surveyed the scene, another missile streaked in from the clouds above and landed a direct hit on one of the A-10s, blowing the right engine apart. The three remaining aircraft immediately broke formation and began spitting out additional flares and chaff canisters. Seconds later, two additional missiles flew in from high above and hit the flares.

“Baker Three, this is Raven One. We have enemy fighters engaging us now. We’re breaking off and heading for home. We’ll see what we can do to rustle up some additional help for you guys,” the pilot said, speaking loud enough to be heard over the warning sirens blaring in his cockpit.

“That’s it for these guys,” realized Slater. “They’re bugging out, and rightly so.”

“Thank you, Raven One. You just saved our lives. Stay safe and we’ll see you next time. Good luck. Out,” Ian said. They were going to need it as much as his platoon was.

As the aircraft left the area, the Chinese attack resumed, albeit with a lot fewer armor and infantry soldiers. The human wave that was about to crash against them had largely been wiped out. What remained of the infantry was content to stay where they were, firing at his men from a distance while they waited for the next wave of soldiers to join them.

“Sergeant Slater, look behind us!” yelled one of his soldiers. Ian turned around and smiled at the sight of the rest of his company, along with eight M1A2 Abrams battle tanks, heading towards them.

“The cavalry has arrived,” he thought.