The Chinese defenders in the next defensive line were now fully alerted to the danger. They too had come under fire from the men of Task Force Tennessee, but since they were not yet engaged in their front, they had much more luck cutting down the assailants who had struck them from the side. Dozens of Airborne from Task Force Tennessee were cut down in the minute that it took to finish clearing out the first defensive line, reload, and organize the assault.
This was the crucial moment. About twelve hundred men in the main assault body would have to dislodge five-thousand fully-alerted Chinese in the second defensive line. Well, perhaps not fully alerted, I thought to myself with a grin.
At that moment, grenades started popping off in the Chinese defenses in groups of three. Like the Taiwanese missiles, these grenades burst in the air, robbing the Chinese of the safety they had sought in foxholes and trenches.
“Thanks, Clay,” I muttered. The Lafayette Initiative team had sneaked behind the PLA defenses on Teatime Hill, and now they introduced mass confusion into those defenses. Every few seconds, three more grenades detonated in the Chinese defensive works, and the Lafayette team was devilishly good at seeking out officers. Though there were only three of them, they worked efficiently and quickly, pumping more explosives into the trenches and foxholes.
The Lafayette team’s attack had two purposes. First, it sowed chaos by killing officers. That was important; if we could eliminate any semblance of leadership, the enlisted men in the lines were much more likely to break and run. But even more importantly, the Lafayette team, combined with the supporting fire of Task Force Tennessee, had thoroughly confused the Chinese. I could imagine the panicked radio calls going around Chinese command circuits at that moment.
“Where the hell are they coming from?”
“How’d they get behind us?”
“My men are being hit from the west, request support!”
Now was the moment. All the tricks had been played, and they had bought us one chance, perhaps a minute-long window to smash the PLA line on Teatime Hill.
“Forward!” I shouted into the radio. Around me, the Airborne soldiers surged forward. Gunfire lanced out from the Chinese line. Many of the PLA were firing blind, the fog, rain, and smoke from grenades and the missiles obscuring the view and confusing the aim. Dozens fell nevertheless, the sheer volume of fire making up for the lack of precision with which it was directed.
The wave of Airborne soldiers surged into the smoke and fog, and everyone tried to stay close to one of their number with a thermal scope so that they wouldn’t run blindly into a Chinese foxhole and break a leg. That fate still befell a score of soldiers, who screamed and still wielded their rifles from a seated position.
Most of the Airborne soldiers made it to the Chinese lines. When they were within fifteen yards of a foxhole or trench, they could easily see the inhabitants, whom they cut down mercilessly before moving on to take another Chinese position.
In a few places, the Chinese put up heavy resistance, rebuffing one or two attempts by clots of American soldiers to take their entrenchments. Those pockets were quickly wiped out by the Lafayette men, however, as they scanned the battlefield with thermal goggles and shot grenades into hardpoints in the Chinese defenses.
For me personally, all of my cards had been played. The only other thing I could do to help the battle was participate in it. I wielded one of the precious thermal scopes and led a small knot of soldiers from foxhole to foxhole, taking out PLA defenders and then methodically making my way to the next position.
It was impossible to tell how the battle was going. We seemed to be making good progress, though I ran into fallen Airborne seemingly with every step I took. There was no cohesive plan beyond this point — each knot of Airborne soldiers was trying to keep moving, to take one foxhole after another. On the Chinese side, sheer numbers allowed the PLA to absorb our surprises. We had killed, wounded, or routed perhaps half of the five thousand Chinese left on Teatime Hill, but they still had more than twice as many fighting men as we had started out with.
We needed one more element, one more surprise. I could feel the battle balanced on a knife edge, numbers versus audacity, inertia versus momentum, China versus the United States of America.
Just then, a cry arose on the flanks of the Chinese defenses. For an instant, I panicked, thinking that PLA reinforcements had arrived far sooner than I had expected. I ran over to the left flank, needing to know what was happening. And there, through my thermal scope, I saw dark apparitions charging the Chinese defenses.
The soldiers of Task Force Tennessee had come crashing in.
Their presence was completely outside of the plan, not to mention against my orders. After they poured fire in from the sides against both defensive lines, they were supposed to turn and face outwards, where they would aim fire on any PLA reinforcements that tried to make their way to Teatime Hill in time to swing the battle. Evidently, they had sensed the tide of battle and decided that Teatime Hill was worth one more wild charge.
They were the cream of the Airborne, the very best we had. They were not commandos, not near supermen whose lives consisted of nothing but war. Many had joined because there wasn’t anywhere else for them to go, or because they just wanted the government to pay for their schooling, or out of sheer boredom at the ordinary options life had presented to them. But that day on Teatime Hill, they came down on the Chinese line like demons.
Still at least somewhat masked from the Chinese thermal scopes, they came in with almost no opposition. The PLA soldiers had their hands full with the main body of attackers, and they had almost no time to react. Many never saw the soldiers of Task Force Tennessee who took their lives. The sound of the charge started moving inward, caving in the PLA line on both ends.
I laughed so hard that I began to cry, tears welling out of my empty eye socket and soaking my eyepatch. For once, the battle didn’t turn on the efforts of a daring commander or a dashing commando, but on the ordinary men and women who wrenched victory with their own initiative.
As the sound of attackers drew nearer on all sides in the smoke and fog, PLA soldiers began running back in droves. A number fought and died, trading their lives to give their friends a chance to escape. Thousands of Chinese infantry ran, and the Airborne soldiers with thermal scopes fired on their retreating forms, killing perhaps another fifteen-hundred of the enemy after the battle had been won. The Airborne soldiers on Devil Hill poured down their fire as well, the two hills finally functioning in complement as had been originally intended when we arrived in Citadel days earlier.
There were still isolated pockets of battle continuing on Teatime Hill, and while those were being mopped up, I could hear the sound of gunfire receding away to the next hill.
I called over the radio, “All, halt! We’ve won what we came for. Stay on Teatime Hill and prepare for the counter-attack!” The last thing I wanted was for the Airborne to do the impossible, take Teatime Hill, and then lose it because we pushed on beyond our original objective to the next valley. There was no strategic significance to the next hill over. We didn’t need to hold every inch of Taiwan, just enough to prevent the Chinese from breaking through to the east coast on the main road that ran through Citadel.
Teatime Hill was back in American hands. I wanted to take time to declare the victory, to thank the men, to count our dead and ready ourselves for the next storm, but I knew what would likely come next. “All, get into the defensive lines on the northern side of the Hill. We’re going to have company.”
This next part of the battle was not quite as fully planned. I assumed that Colonel Fong would read the situation accurately. The American forces on Teatime Hill were likely at their maximum level of disarray. We had taken the Hill, but we’d be recovering our wounded, refreshing our stocks of ammunition, collapsing from adrenaline collapse. Meanwhile, there were still thousands of PLA reinforcements in the area, many of them fresh. Added to the routed soldiers, they could present a serious threat to Teatime Hill.