Flint keyed his mike, “Dragon One One, this is Bulldog One, go ahead over.”
“Bulldog One, we got some fire in here. Looked like an SA-7 launched from a cargo ship in the harbor.”
Colonel Flint knew if anyone was hit Hill would have said so, “Did you get a look at the ship, over?”
“Wait one.” Captain Hill had expected this question. He had brought his jet to a hover and slowly increased his altitude until he could just see the ship over the nice houses on Chichin Island. The ship made no secret of its identity — a red flag with one large yellow star in the upper right corner cradled by a crescent of four yellow stars proudly snapped in the northwesterly wind. “Bulldog One. Got a positive ID on the ship. People’s Republic of China. I say again, the People’s Republic of China, over.”
Flint processed this new information. He called for his intelligence officer in other UH-1N, “Red Two Two, Red Two Two, this is Bulldog One, over.”
“Bulldog One, this is Red Two Two, over.” Major Ramirez responded quickly.
Colonel Flint smiled, he imagined Major “Rez” Ramirez holding the mike, not letting the XO touch it. “Did you copy last transmission, over?”
Ramirez paused and thought, but only for a moment, “Roger. Looks like the enemy sent a ship or two in to seize the harbor. Probably more to follow. Surprised the airport’s clear, over.”
“Recommendations, over?” Flint already had a good idea of what he wanted to do, but Rez’s advice would confirm his thoughts.
“Bad guys probably have no clue we’re here. We can secure the airport. Place LP/OPs at the north and south end of Chichin. When their reinforcements arrive we can send the Harriers out from the airport and bomb the ships as they’re entering the Harbor, over.” Rez was in top form as usual.
“What about our M1s or AT weapons, over?”
“Like a popgun against a 20,000 ton ship. Use them to secure the airport and leave the ship-busting to the Harriers, over.”
“I agree. Mercury Three, Mercury Three, Bulldog One, over.” Flint was calling his LCACs — any LCAC with a working radio.
“This is Mercury Three, over.”
“Mercury Three, I want you to land just north of Kaohsiung Talinpu. There should be beach there. You probably can’t find a place to land in the harbor, plus there’s a boat-load of bad guys in there, over.”
“Wilco.”
Flint loved the reply “wilco”—it was the ultimate in military efficiency, meaning, “I understand and will comply.”
Flint’s plan was deceptively simple. He figured he had more than 1,000 Marines and a little more than 100 pilots, aircrew and sailors. He would establish a beachhead southeast of Kaohsiung, then rapidly push north to secure the international airport. He’d take the airport with two rifle companies, two platoons of the weapons company and the tank platoon. He’d leave the remainder of his battalion to guard the beachhead and establish a rest, refit, and refuel spot for his aircrews. These Marines would also keep an eye on the southern approach into the harbor. He planned on sending his reconnaissance platoon and the four LAVs he managed to save to the north of Chichin Island where they could watch the northern approach into the harbor as well as observe Kaohsiung itself. With luck, they’d establish an LP/OP on top of the hill at Shoushan Park overlooking the city and the harbor.
“Red Three Three, Red Three Three, this is Bulldog One, over.” Flint was calling his S-3 (Operations Officer), Lieutenant Colonel Cook.
“Bulldog One, this is Red Three Three, over.”
“Red Three Three, we need a frago (fragmentary order) to seize the docks at Kaohsiung and destroy the enemy force there. After we secure the airport and the beach I want to be prepared to go into Kaohsiung Harbor and prevent the enemy from bringing in further reinforcements.”
“Roger Bulldog One, we already prepared the branch plan onboard ship. We’re ready to go, and Hammer One has already been briefed. ”
“Roger, Bulldog One, out.” Flint didn’t have time to be pleased with his staff. If they lived to tell about it, that would be reward enough for most of them.
For almost being wiped out in America’s worst naval defeat since Pearl Harbor Flint felt remarkably at ease. He and most of the combat elements of the 31st MEU were alive and capable of fighting. Sustaining any action beyond a couple of days would be a challenge without the Combat Service Support Element, but he’d deal with that problem in a day or two. In spite of the situation, Colonel Flint smiled — he had a real war to fight now.
“Dragon One One, Bulldog One, over.”
“Dragon One One here.” The Harrier pilot replied.
“Dragon One One, sink the bastards and get over to the airport ASAP, over.”
“Wilco!”
Flint could hear the excitement in the Captain Hill’s voice — he was about to run the sort of mission he was trained for with no one from Washington looking over his shoulder and telling him not to use all the tools in his kit.
The PLA commander in charge of the 3rd Infantry Regiment, 97th Infantry Division radioed his status back to headquarters on the Mainland. Both of the busy men only had time for a brief situation update. The senior colonel said, “Sir, we’ve gotten one battalion of infantry off the ship. We’re trying to eliminate some sniper fire before we bring the other battalions and the support elements off. We just fired on some enemy aircraft. We saw three of them. Our recon element has just reported the airport is not yet defended.” The colonel was reluctant to mention his main real problem: dehydration and heat prostration. While more the fault of the men who planned the mission using a cargo ship hastily converted into a troop carrier, admitting a problem was to admit poor preparation — or worse yet, be thought of accusing his commander of a mistake. Either path was a sure way to be relieved of command.
The major general responded, “You are getting behind on your timetable. I do not care about snipers. Get your men off that ship immediately! We must have the docks and the landing beaches secured within three hours. I’m not holding up the rest of the division for you!”
General Wei’s SATCOM phone chirped. Fu eyed him carefully, looking for indications. “I see… Certainly an unexpected development… Let me know the soonest you hear anything more.” Wei looked at Fu and flipped the phone shut. “Comrade Fu, it seems there has been a complication introduced into our operation. The American Marines have landed on Taiwan…”
“What?” Fu felt years of planning beginning to crumble.
“Sir, I’m sure it’s only the remnants of the force we attacked off Kaohsiung. I recall from the American order of battle that there could be no more than 2,100 Marines in the force we attacked. A little more than 2,000 dazed American Marines could hardly be considered a threat, eh?” Wei sounded his reassuring best.
Captain Mike “Mole” Hill (his nickname earned by his constant telling of mountainous tales involving his favorite subject: Captain Hill) keyed the radio to speak with his wingmen. “Snake, Dingo, I’m going to position for an attack run on that freighter. I’m going to come in from the southeast and drop my iron. Suppress the bastards for me, over.”
First Lieutenant “Snake” Gilbert responded, “Roger, Mole, we’ll keep their heads down. Hey, I’ve got 16 five hundred pounders, I want to play too!”
“Shut up and cover me!” Hill grinned behind his oxygen mask then banked his aircraft to the right and streaked off just over the wave tops, leaving the other two Harriers in a hover over the beach. About three miles away Hill pulled up and looped to the left. With his wingmen able to suppress the ship’s shoulder-fired SAM teams with rapid fire from their six-barreled 25mm guns as well as 2.75 inch rocket fire, Hill figured he could run a classic dive bomb attack on the freighter and damage it or even sink it with the six Mk 83 1,000 pound general purpose bombs he carried.