Stan twisted around. He watched the next tank enter the water. Even though starlight gave him some visibility, he slipped his night vision goggles over his eyes. As his Lee crept upstream against the current, Stan witnessed tank after tank taking the plunge, following him.
The fifteenth Lee sank, though. Stan watched in horror. The tank commander floated out of the hatch. Then masses of bubbles rose from the tank as river water gushed in. Why had the vehicle sunk?
“Get the other crewmembers out of there!” Stan shouted. They did, but they lost the Lee for now. Hopefully, Army engineers could drag the vehicle out later. For this mission, it was as good as destroyed.
Soon, nearly eighty American light tanks and IFVs with their accompanying soldiers floated upstream along the Songhua. Stan had stained his face black. He’d ordered every tank commander to do likewise. They stood in their hatches just as he did in his. Now they floated past the enemy, hoping no one spotted them. It was an awful feeling to trust to stealth and do the unthinkable. One person spotting them could ruin the entire plan and ensure their destruction.
As Stan watched from the turret hatch, he recalled James Wolfe in 1759 at Quebec City. The British and French fought for control of Canada back then. Wolfe had entered the Saint Lawrence River, floating upstream just as he did against the Chinese. Well, Wolfe had traveled in oceanic ships of the line, wooden sailing vessels. With 9,000 troops in his fleet, Wolfe spent two months before Quebec, looking for a way to land unopposed in order to defeat French General Montcalm. The enemy had 14,000 soldiers and some Indians to defend the almost impregnable fortress, standing high above the river. The British Admiral Saunders feared that his wooden ships might be caught in winter ice. As the weather turned cold, he finally threatened to leave. Wolfe had been distraught. He yearned for victory. Then some scouts found a footpath winding up steep cliffs just north of the city. On a night expedition, Wolfe sent one battalion of provincial rangers up the footpath, followed by four regular battalions. That had been 12 September 1759. By dawn, Wolfe’s 4800 soldiers were in battle line in front of Quebec City, on a piece of ground called the Plain of Abraham.
General Montcalm attacked the British at once with 4500 soldiers, although he lacked cannons. The governor of Quebec refused to remove them from the seawalls. Both Wolfe and Montcalm died in the battle on the Plain of Abraham, but the British victory broke the back of French Canadian resistance. Quebec City surrendered on September 18.
Stan wondered if he could pull a Plains of Abraham victory here in Heilongjiang Province, Manchuria. If he won, would he have to pay for it with his life? He hoped not. Shifting into a more comfortable position in the turret hatch, he continued to watch the river and its banks through his night-vision goggles.
In the dark, Jake Higgins prowled a cold battlefield. The fight had taken place several hours ago at dusk. Chinese IFVs and machine-gun armed jeeps had tried to ambush a fuel truck convoy.
The enemy nailed two fuel tankers and killed a dozen American GIs. The rest of the convoy had sped away north along G1011, while arriving Cherokees hovered at a distance, using chain guns and Hellfire IIs to take out the enemy.
Jake slowly rotated, scanning all around. With night-vision goggles, he studied bushes on a slope, thin trees to the left of that and waving grass near the highway. The surviving ambushers had hightailed it to who knew where. Would they come back, or would others try to sneak up on them again? Chinese guerilla tactics had begun to worry some people, including Jake. China was an awful big country and the Americans were the invaders this time.
“Wonder where the Chinese hid their vehicles before they struck,” Chet said.
“Yeah,” Jake said.
Both of them wore body armor and lugged fifty-pound packs. They weren’t going to be here long, so they kept carrying. Jake and Chet had learned the hard way that you didn’t want to be separated from your stuff for very long. Supplies like ammo, food and fuel were becoming hard to get sometimes. It’s why they were out here tonight.
“See anything?” Jake shouted at Grant.
“Nope,” Grant said. He was closer to the bushes, and he was bigger and taller than either Jake or Chet. “It’s as quiet as the grave,” Grant added.
“Yeah, that’s funny,” Chet said.
“Thought a genius like you might like it,” Grant said.
“Okay,” Jake said. He squatted and pulled the quick-release strap, letting his pack thump onto the soil. He wanted to move fast if he had to. Aiming his rifle at a crashed IFV tilted on its side, he shot a round at it. The bullet pinged off metal, creating a spark and a loud ricochet sound.
“Hey!” Chet said. “What the heck are you doing?”
Jake studied the graveyard of vehicles, searching for a sign of the enemy, anyone willing to shoot back, hidden like a sniper in a downed vehicle.
“If someone is hiding in a wreck,” Jake said, “they’re not too jumpy.”
“I am,” Chet said. “I almost lobbed a grenade ’cause of your trick. Next time, tell me what you’re doing.”
“I wonder if we should toss a grenade in each,” Grant said, walking to them. “They’re going to start booby-trapping the things soon.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Jake said. “If you ask me, it’s clear.”
“I agree,” Chet said.
“I’ll go ask the lieutenant,” Grant said.
Their squad searched the graveyard of vehicles. The rest of the platoon had spread out off road, searching for Chinese.
Jake returned to his pack and plopped down beside it. Chet sat nearby. Both infantrymen kept hold of their assault rifles.
“We haven’t even reached Harbin yet,” Jake said.
“So what?”
“Do you know how far it is to Beijing?”
“Sure don’t,” Chet said.
“This is just Manchuria. Including our part of Siberia and Mongolia, it’s as big as the eastern half of the United States.”
“Okay. So?”
“How long do you think it will take us to conquer China?” Jake asked.
“As long as it takes,” Chet said. He dug out his smartphone and used his thumb to upload saved porn. Soon, he was engrossed in his pics.
Jake kept vigilant. The way things were going, they were going to need a lot more soldiers to finish the job. He remembered Denver. What if they had to start going house to house in a giant city? Harbin could easily swallow the entire American Expeditionary Force. This was going to get bloody and nasty. He could feel it in his gut.
Jake raised his head. He heard trucks approaching. The lieutenant must have given the all clear. Grant strode toward them. The man didn’t shout. He would have if the lieutenant had given the order to move out. Likely, they would stay here for a little longer, just in case any Chinese showed up.
Five minutes later, the first American fuel tanker truck slowly backed toward the nearest wrecked enemy vehicle.
“Guard duty,” the lieutenant radioed into Jake’s ear-link.
“Time to get up,” Jake told Chet.
Putting away his porn-phone, Chet grunted as he pulled on his pack. Jake did the same thing. Soon, with Grant, they moved to a bushy knoll, taking up station.
Meanwhile, truck personnel equipped with hoses and hand-cranked fuel pumps began to scavenge for diesel among the Chinese wrecks. First, a team tested the fuel in an enemy vehicle. It didn’t seem likely, but the Chinese might have sabotaged it. Afterward, personnel shoved a hose down the gas tank and began to crank.
One man kept spitting as he pumped. Then Jake realized the soldier was eating sunflower seeds.
The reason for the pumps was simple. It was easier to go vulture for fuel than to hope more arrived from the distant depots fast enough. If this fuel tanker found enough diesel, it could return to forward bases and top off more Jeffersons or IFVs.