Now Stan received news that his scouts had found heavy Chinese formations barring the pass to Jiamusi.
No. As he listened to the radio, Stan realized it was worse than that. The cavalry was thirty kilometers in front of 10th Armored Division. Chinese Type 99 tanks and BMPs had pinned down the scouts.
Shaking his head, Stan knew that in the midst of an offensive operation he didn’t want his reconnaissance elements tied down in a decisive engagement. The scouts were beyond the reach of his artillery except for the MLRS.
Stan considered using them, but soon realized the scouts didn’t have a good enough target fix on the enemy. He didn’t want to waste the MLRS on a deep and questionable strike. Maybe the Chinese were planning a big surprise. He wanted to keep his aces in the hole for now.
One thing was very interesting: the enemy’s use of the Type 99 tank. It was also known as the ZTZ-99. A third generation MBT, it was old news like America’s M1s. Had China shipped most of the tri-turreted and Marauder tanks to North America?
The Type 99 was eleven meters long, three and half meters wide and 2.37 meters high. With an autoloader, it had a three-man crew. For its time in the early 2000s, it had been a good tank. It carried a small 125mm smoothbore tank gun along with 12.7mm machine guns. On good terrain, it could travel fifty miles per hour.
China hadn’t used any Type 99s in North America. Clearly, they planned to use them in defense of the homeland. The question was: how many enemy tanks and BMPs were out there? Did the Chinese want to buy themselves time or was this a trick?
Stan made a fast decision. This was the earliest phase of the assault. The Type 99 had good night vision, but probably not as good as he had with the Cherokees. The US and the Russians air forces had hunted for Chinese drones and jets, chasing them from the battlefield. Did he dare to attempt a quick helicopter strike deep in the pass now? It would be a risk. Just because the Chinese used old tanks didn’t mean they would have lousy antiair defenses.
I have to do this. We have to hit them hard and never let up. Otherwise, we might as well have stayed home.
Stan decided to use one battalion of Cherokees. That meant eighteen tank killers, organized into three six-ship companies. Each two-man crew consisted of a copilot-gunner in the front seat, and a pilot who sat behind and slightly above his CPG.
Each Cherokee had three weapons systems at its disposal, high-tech, accurate and very lethal. The deadliest was the Hellfire II missile. Laser guided, it would murder the Type 99 tank if it reached the target. The next system was the 2.75-inch rocket. Those could destroy anything but MBTs. Whenever possible a gunner used the rockets to save the Hellfire IIs for the heavy tanks. The last system was the 30mm chain gun, used primarily for defensive purposes.
These days, a Cherokee in combat usually hovered fifty feet above the ground as it deployed Hellfire IIs or the 2.75-inch rockets at armored targets. The attack helos stayed three thousand to nine thousand meters away from its victims. That was well beyond the range most people could see anything with the naked eye.
Stan gave the orders and followed in his observation ship.
The Cherokees were tri-jet assisted for intense speed, but they wouldn’t call on this capability unless enemy fighters showed up or the Chinese had up-to-date antiair platforms. Each gunship was fully loaded, armed with eight Hellfire IIs and thirty-six Hydra-80s, as they called the 2.75-inch rockets.
Stan watched with satisfaction. Each company of six ships flew in a “staggered right” formation. That meant each Cherokee moved in echelon, with each following craft staying one hundred feet to the right rear of its leader. These last few weeks, Stan had learned more about attack helos than he ever expected to. For instance, with each extra knot of airspeed the pilot tried to add one foot above ground. At fifty knots, a little faster than fifty miles per hour, the ship flew at an altitude of fifty feet.
“Sir,” the captain of B Company said. “This is a target-rich environment.”
Stan could see the large number of enemy hot spots on his screen. So far, no Chinese drones or fighters had appeared.
“Move in front of the scouts,” Stan ordered. “And make doubly certain there are no friendlies ahead of them.”
“Yes, sir,” the B Company captain said.
Hanging back in his observation helo, Stan listened in on the radio conversations and watched the Cherokees fly over the scout vehicles.
“Not so far forward,” Stan said.
Soon, the Cherokees inched back until they were a little less than one hundred meters ahead of the scouts.
The Cherokee battalion changed formation as each company came on line. That formation meant they flew side by side with one hundred to one hundred and fifty meters between each attack helo. They all hovered in place, sixty feet above ground.
Stan busily studied his screen. “What do you think?” he asked his intel chief, Major Bob Frazer.
“A brigade at least, General.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Stan said. “This must be one hundred and twenty Type 99 tanks.”
“I’m counting one hundred and thirty-five 99s, plus fifty BMPs.”
The day had started clear. Now rain fell and clouds hid the stars. That didn’t bother the Cherokee night-vision equipment or Stan’s thermal sights either.
The pass was large. The enemy brigade blocked the main highway. Some of those 99s looked as if the Chinese had dug in. The enemy wouldn’t simply throw a brigade away of old but useful tanks, would he?
Stan was nervous. He was used to keeping his feet on the ground. But he was a general now. He had to use every tool at his disposal. That meant he needed to know each tool’s usefulness.
Tonight, be gained a better understanding of the Cherokees.
The helo gunners launched the first Hellfire IIs, the longest-ranged weapons. The missiles stretched through the night, coming down in the rain on top of the Type 99 tanks. Their armor was weakest from above.
“Yes,” Stan said under this breath. He watched the Hellfire IIs hit. Seeing this on the TV screen—hot spots light up—failed to impart the blood, guts and screaming going on over there.
Stan hunched forward. He saw new, smaller hot spots. For a second, he didn’t realize what he witnessed. Then it came to him. Those were Chinese crews jumping out of their vehicles and running away.
“They’re moving the tanks,” the B Company captain said.
Stan saw that. The enemy either couldn’t or didn’t want to challenge the awesome firepower unleashed from above against them.
“Forward one thousand meters,” Stan said.
B Company advanced one thousand meters straight ahead. A and C Companies made flanking moves. All the while, Hellfire IIs and Hydra-80s turned tanks and BMPs into burning infernos.
Then a red line appeared on Stan’s TV screen. It flashed from the enemy position, an IF laser. The beam struck a Cherokee, and the helo dropped hard, hitting the earth and exploding with brilliant flames.
The laser flashed again, and a second Cherokee disintegrated.
Stan swore under his breath.
The tac-laser platform never got off a third shot. Two Hellfire IIs found it, destroying the antiair element.
Stan wasn’t sure if he should order the battalion to break off. The US scout vehicles already roared for home. Okay. That was good.
No. This is our first offensive. We have to sweep into Manchuria. I need my Jeffersons and I need them now.
They were on their way. If the Chinese wanted to hold this pass, they were going to need more armor and tac-lasers, or antiair missiles, at least.