“The hovers will likely knock them down with antishell defenses.”
“Not if we fire in truly dense volleys and use a little artillery. Let’s get started. I want half the tanks lined up on shore.”
One hundred Jeffersons roared into life. Now, perhaps, they showed their true nimbleness. Soon, the shoreline glittered with American tanks. The cannons lifted for long-range fire, and the newest penetrators thundered from the 175mm cannons. At the same time, artillery shells pounded them.
The XO proved right about one thing. The Chinese hovers put up a solid defensive barrage of 25mm autocannon fire with computer-directed heavy machine guns. Many American rounds never reached the hovers. The shells were knocked down or deflected before they could test hover armor. Some did reach the enemy craft, however. The light armor proved inefficient against the sabot rounds, and Chinese vehicles blasted apart or flipped over and began to sink.
“Keep pouring it on,” Stan said.
“We’re not going to have enough ammo left to deal with the Chinese tanks,” the XO said. “Our supply—”
“Let me worry about that,” Stan said. “Sink those hovers. Those are the real danger to our supply lines. This is a crazy place to use them. Let’s make them pay for their mistake.”
The Chinese lost over half their hovers before the fast machines began curving back, retreating.
“Now’s where we demolish them,” Stan said. “Their defensive fire will be much less because they have fewer machines.”
“Our rounds are dwindling fast, General.”
“We’re killing the hovers now!” Stan shouted.
General Higgins proved correct: only one in five hovers made it back to their side. He used some artillery to try to get those, and killed a few more. Altogether, it proved a stunning victory.
“Those infantry divisions are close,” the XO radioed.
“Exactly,” Stan said.
Stan Higgins had an idea. He didn’t believe the two infantry divisions would have much antitank weaponry, but mainly small arms. The next hour showed the Chinese how deadly the Jefferson tanks were against infantry. The American MBTs massed and attacked.
With their beehive flechettes and antipersonnel rounds, the Jeffersons murdered thousands of Chinese soldiers. Finally, the enemy broke and ran. Once again, his calculated decision proved correct.
“Unleash the artillery on them,” Stan said. “Let’s finish this.”
“Don’t you have any mercy?” the XO asked.
“Not here, not today,” Stan said. “They invaded us first. I mean to finish this war with an American strategic victory.”
“By the way,” the XO said, “we’re low on antitank rounds.”
“Well take the risk and remain here to deal death.”
The artillery rained on the retreating Chinese infantry. The Jeffersons together with the artillery decimated them. The waiting division of Type 99 tanks kept Stan from capturing the survivors, though. If this had been the first blitzkrieg phase of the invasion, those tanks wouldn’t have been waiting there as a final enemy reserve.
That’s the difference, Stan told himself. We’re still demolishing them. But we’re unable to exploit our victories to maximum advantage.
If they were going to conquer China, they had to find a way to return to capturing tens of thousands of enemy personnel after each victory.
Once again, Jake’s battalion found itself cooperating with tanks. It was July 13 and the weather had turned unbearably hot. They attempted to clear the G1 Highway as the US army group surged toward Changchun.
Enemy soldiers from Xing’s Twelfth Army blocked the advance, defending in a forest to the southeast of Biangangxiang.
Since early this morning, Jake had been in the line of battle, waiting for the tanks to finish their job before the company attacked.
Jake had kept his eyes open. As a former Behemoth leader, he appreciated the current tank tactics. Once the armor arrived at the enemy position, the squadrons spread out fanwise, outflanking and encircling the Chinese. With a pincer movement, the tanks slowly closed up again. In this way, they forced the enemy into a progressively smaller area.
At that point, the infantry went over to the attack, methodically clearing the enemy zone…
In front of Jake were the woods and a few broken-down shacks from which came the violent banging of RPGs.
The company captain shouted at them, giving each lieutenant his objective. Wans’ platoon would attack the nearest huts as the others hit the forest.
Jake ran half bent, with the rest of his squad behind him. Wans deployed them in an arc, and everyone went forward without too much difficulty.
The other platoons had already reached the tree line. Incendiary grenades started fires as branches and thousands of leaves began to blaze.
The Chinese in the woods blasted away as if they had great mounds of ammunition at their disposal.
Then shells screeched, slamming against the ground and exploding with a sickening din. It felt as if giants dug their spades into the ground and threw dirt and clods everywhere.
“Are those from our guns or the Chinese?” Chet shouted from the ground.
Whoever owned them, fragments of shell hit seven Americans. This time, the body armor proved ineffective.
More shells plowed the ground. Mud rained down on Jake’s helmet, tossed up by the explosions. His face was buried in the earth.
“Get up!” Grant shouted. He’d lost an ear and blood covered the side of his face. “We can’t stay here.”
Jake knew he right. He scrambled to his feet. So did Chet. They sprinted through the belt of death, flattening themselves every twenty feet. More Americans lay dead on the soil, cut to pieces by jagged shrapnel.
One wounded man missing his legs crawled for the rear ranks. He shouted hoarsely for a medic.
Jake got up again, running. He and Chet reached the first houses. Their assault guns chattered. Incendiary grenades flew. The roofs burst into flames.
Chinese dashed out, yelling. One of them burned nicely. The soldier rolled on the ground, screaming in agony.
Red rage washed over Jake. He fired into the Chinese. So did others, including Chet and Grant. Jake reloaded, fired and reloaded once more. Everyone hurled grenades into the huts. Roofs collapsed and sparks billowed.
Through the smoke, Jake spied green shadows. Some of the enemy tried to escape through the woods.
He knelt, sighted and fired magazine after magazine. Each time a shadow flew onto the ground bought a grim sense of satisfaction to him.
The rest of the day turned into a hug mopping up operation. Jake, Chet and Grant swept the thickets and clearings, hunting with everyone else for Chinese soldiers. Many emerged with their hands on their heads. Battalion sent them off to waiting trucks. The Chinese would swell the numbers of growing POW camps.
From Military History: Past to Present, by Vance Holbrook:
2042, June 9-July 15. The Approach to Changchun. The Russian 9th Army Group spread out through the Gobi Desert to reach the Khingan Mountain Range. Russian and German antiair units thickened, providing air cover while the logisticians laid down roads to aid the beginning of a vast movement of supply near the southern Khingan Mountains. During this time, the Manchurian-based Russian and American army groups strode toward Changchun. Both the defenders and attackers lacked their former air assets, as constant warfare destroyed the expensive fighters, bombers and drones.
At this point, Hong finally unleashed the overseas units, having transferred them back to China. At the same time, Russian and American commanders appealed home for more of everything. The Allies advanced almost everywhere without halt, paying in blood but more in wear and tear. The offensive tip of their armies had weakened considerably since the beginning of the invasion. Too many units now garrisoned hostile cities or guarded the supply routes. The only Chinese victory came in the Changbai Mountains. The Russian assault out of Vladivostok halted before they could reach the Tumen River Valley. Marshal Timoshenko finally admitted defeat and retreated toward Vladivostok.