Lieutenant Somchai Prachakorn looked up from the packet that had been dropped by an Avro 504 trainer a few minutes earlier. “Corporal Mongkut. Platoon Sergeant Kamon was wounded outside Angkrong. You are promoted to Sergeant and will take his place. Our platoon will form the lead element of this attack. We have a forward air controller with us. When we make contact with the Tirailleurs Tonkinois, he will call in dive bombers to support us.”
Overhead, the puttering of a low-powered aircraft engine intruded on the briefing. The Avro 504 was back, circling overhead. After a few seconds, a small package with a white streamer attached was thrown from the back seat. It landed in the middle of the camp. Mongkut ran out and brought it back to his Lieutenant, who read the contents with satisfaction.
“The Avro says, the enemy positions are where we thought; a few hundred meters down the path. They gave away their position by firing on the aircraft. Foolish of them.”
“Fortunate for us.” Mongkut had just realized he had been made a platoon sergeant.
“Very fortunate. Sergeant, Kam asked me to give you these. They are his sergeant’s stripes. He also sends a message; that if you ruin his platoon, he will beat you. Now, sew them to your uniform and move our platoon up. Oh, and recommend one of the men from your old squad for promotion to Corporal.”
The hours they had spent at the double-quick time along dirt roads were now a fond memory. The platoon was moving through scrubland; country covered with bushes and the occasional outcrop of trees. This was also snake country, infested with kraits and cobras. Fortunately they preferred not to confront humans and were doubtless moving out of the way. It was just one more problem Mongkut had to think about.
He had his sergeant’s stripes sewn to his uniform, quickly and clumsily, but still in place. Returning to his old squad, he’d felt a wrench at being parted from the men he’d served with ever since being called back to the colors. Who do I recommend as squad corporal? Din, who everybody likes? Or Pon, who is the best soldier but unpopular? Then he remembered the advice he had been given on his promotion to Corporal. We will help you along. He would consult with the other Sergeants.
He looked quickly right and left, checking that his men were spread out properly as they advanced. Over to his far left, the great ridge of hills that marked the old border still glowered down on the advancing infantry. The 11th was advancing parallel with that old border and would continue to do so until they reached the Mekong River. Then, they would fan out along it to establish the new border. No, reestablish the true border. Another glance behind showed the small truck that followed at a respectful distance.
The Tirailleurs Tonkinois battalion defending the treeline gave its position away by firing far too early. The patter of rifle fire was largely ineffective, although it did cause the advancing Thai infantry to go to ground. Mongkut heard a hammering noise; the platoon Lewis gun opened fire to cover the first step in a leapfrog advance.
“Hold positions.” Lieutenant Somchai snapped an order out. “The dive bombers are coming in. We’ll attack as soon as they’ve finished.”
The word was obviously spreading along the line. The sounds of firing died down to a few isolated shots. Mongkut got a feeling than the enemy battalion was probably congratulating itself for having stopped the attack. If so, they were in for an ugly disappointment. He could already hear the sound of aircraft engines overhead. A quick look upwards showed two flights, each of three Vought Corsair biplanes, overhead.
They peeled over into their dives. The sound that erupted was an earsplitting cacophony of sheer terror. In addition to the scream of their engines, the Corsairs had sirens mounted on their fixed undercarriages. The trick was one they had learned from their German instructors; they placed considerable emphasis on just how demoralizing it was to those on the receiving end. The wailing noise reminded Mongkut of the ghosts that inhabited an old ruined temple near where he had grown up. The volume of the shrieking howls was so great it made him want to flee. He hugged the ground and forced himself to wait for the bombing to end.
The ground shuddered as the first explosions tore into the French positions. Mongkut felt a smack on his back and looked up. Lieutenant Somchai already on his feet and running towards the ripple of explosions that marked the Tonkinois defenses. Mongkut couldn’t allow him to go alone; he rose to his feet and followed. Behind him, the rest of his platoon did the same. The unit sprinted across the ground towards where the 50-kilogram bombs were still landing. Clods of earth, sticks and fragments of metal were still flying as they closed in on their enemy.
The Tonkinois riflemen were stunned, incapable of resistance. Only a few seconds, a minute or so at most, marked the gap between the dive bombers finishing their work and the Thai infantry leaping the barriers and engaging the defenders. Miongkut saw the blue-clad Tonkinois throw down their rifles and hold up their hands in surrender. Some tried to run away. They were shot or bayoneted as they left their rifle pits. Others were on the ground, crying out for mercy as they writhed with the wounds from the bombing. Then there were those who were on the ground and would never move again. Between the dead, the wounded and the prisoners, the 4th Battalion of the Tirailleurs Tonkinois had completely collapsed as a fighting force.
“First reports in, Highness. A battalion of the First Regiment, 11th Infantry Division has engaged a battalion force of the Tirailleurs Tonkinois. The air support techniques Wing Commander Fuen devised have worked very well. The enemy battalion collapsed with only nominal resistance. They have taken over 250 prisoners and four guns. Our casualties were three dead and eleven wounded. Very little resistance in Laos. We have already captured Pakse and the battalion assigned there is spreading out along the Mekong. Ninth Infantry Division is advancing with tank support along RC157 towards Battambang. They took Poipet without any opposition but they report French skirmishing is increasing.”
“Keep those troops under control. We need the French to come forward to meet them, not retreat away from them.” Suriyothai’s voice was sharp and decisive. One regiment of the 9th Infantry was advancing along the Battambang road but it was little more that bait to draw the French Indochina Army into a catastrophic encirclement. Their job was entirely different from that of 11th Infantry. The Queen’s Cobra Division had to sweep forward as fast as possible to secure the northern flank of the advance. The Black Panther Division had to advance slowly to lure the French forward.
“The commanders know that, Highness, and are gauging their actions accordingly.” Suriyothai’s aide swallowed slightly at the near-rebuke he had delivered. On being appointed to the position, he had been warned that the one unforgivable sin was to tell the Princess what he thought she wanted to hear. What she actually wanted was the truth and nothing else.
“In the air, our pilots report destroying 17 aircraft on the ground and three in the air. The latter were all MS.406s shot down by our Hawk 75s. We lost three aircraft; all Hawk IIIs. Every aircraft we have is hard at work, either supporting the Army or hunting the French fighters. Except the dive bombers of Foong Kap Lai 72. They found a French sloop moving towards Trat. They bombed it, leaving it burning and dead in the water. We believe the French are planning bombardments of our coastal towns.”