‘Just how bad are their supply problems? Your man there said they were low on ammunition.’
‘We’ve been dropping in supplies around the clock. Our stocks of parachutes are running low, but there’s a shipment due in from Belgium today that should get us by. We just don’t have the lift to get them much more. We can change the mix. Less food, water and medicine and more ammo — that sort of thing. But there’s just not much more that we can do. They’re fighting for their lives down there, sir. It’s up to them now.’
‘Do we have any contingency plans?’ Gordon asked. ‘If the Chinese break through?’
The delay was longer than usual. ‘They go on fighting for as long as they can. Take to the hills and split into smaller and smaller groups.’
‘What would their chances be?’
Again, a delay. ‘Some of the Rangers might fare pretty well. It’s no knock on the men of the 101st to say this, because they’re some of the finest soldiers in the world. But they’re not trained for the same kind of fighting. For evasion and survival behind enemy lines. Plus they’re mainly positioned in the lowlands down in that valley. They’re the hard plug the Chinese are trying to push through. Most of them won’t even get the chance to climb out of the valley. The Rangers, on the other hand, are dug in on the valley’s outer slopes or are patrolling the surrounding countryside — calling in airstrikes.’
‘General Clark, what effect would loss of control of that valley have on the war?’ Gordon felt compelled to ask.
Clark sighed. ‘Not a good one, Mr President. The Chinese could move some major part of the Jinan Army Group up the railroad that runs through that valley. Our forces in China would have to assume the strategic defensive all along the front.’
‘Could we resume the advance some time later?’
‘Not without major reinforcements, Mr President. At least one heavy corps — another hundred thousand men when you include associated supply and support personnel.’
Gordon frowned. Congress and the American people would never go for that. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but is there any chance if the Chinese retake the valley that those remaining men could still shut the railroad down? Harass the Chinese sufficiently from the surrounding hills that they couldn’t safely move trucks to the north?’
‘For a day or two max, Mr President. After that, it’d be too much to expect from them. We’d have no way to resupply them, and their stocks are already low. They’d be out of ammo very quickly. And it would soon be the Chinese who were dug into those hills, not the other way around.’
It all came down to that valley, Gordon realized. Just as he’d been briefed that it would. That and the timing of the ice flow were the two great risks of the operation. Nature had cooperated nicely. An entire Chinese army was stranded on the north bank of the Amur.
‘How about the relief column heading down from the Amur toward the valley?’ Gordon asked.
The audible puff from Clark’s lungs sounded like a roar of air over the telephone. ‘We’re pushing them pretty hard as it is, Mr President.’
‘Well, push them harder.’
‘There are problems with that, Mr President. Their main hold-up is that the roads are clogged with several million Chinese refugees heading south. The only way to clear the roads, sir… Well, I don’t think that would be legal… or moral.’
‘All right. Just keep me informed, General Clark, about anything you hear. No matter how small. I want reports every hour — every half hour — whenever you’ve got anything at all.’
‘Yes, sir. Oh, you might be interested in some videotape that we confiscated. It was shot by that NBC News crew that’s down there in the valley. They flew it out on a medevac chopper, and the censors pulled it because it showed too much. I’ll have it sent to you via military satellite if you’d like.’
‘Yes, do that. I’ll wait up. I’d like to see what it looks like down there.’
A digital clock counted the time down to the start of the recording, but the screen in the underground Situation Room was otherwise black. Gordon sat in slacks and shirt at a conference table with the head of the White House Military Office.
The picture burst onto the screen first, followed a moment later by the stupendous noise of battle. The camera lay on its side as bullets audibly whizzed by. The scene quickly cut to a different image. It was a wobbly picture of a female reporter. She now wore a helmet and bulletproof vest and sat on the ground beside the banked shoulder of a railroad. The railroad, Gordon realized. The air was filled with smoke and the sound of fighting.
‘Got it?’ she asked the cameraman.
‘Go,’ came his overly loud reply.
The reporter cleared her throat and looked at her notes. When she straightened, she looked directly into the lens and began. ‘The fighting in the Tangyuan Valley last night took a dramatic turn for the worse. I’m reporting to you now from the rail line and dirt road that are at the center of the two armies’ confrontation. Up until midnight last night…’ A huge explosion of indeterminate nature interrupted the report. The camera shook and the woman flinched and ducked her head. The camera steadied. Behind the reporter, a towering black ball of smoke rose into the air above the trees. ‘Up until midnight last night, the Chinese had fought and died in huge numbers but made progress measured only in meters. But as the clock struck twelve on an otherwise calm winter evening, the roar of the guns once again filled this deep canyon. This time, however, the guns were Chinese and they were mounted on tanks. The surprise armored attack broke through line after line despite withering anti-tank fire. Missile launchers were fired down from the hills at almost point-blank range. At one point during the dark early-morning hours the hulks of over a hundred vehicles burned furiously in the valley. But still the Chinese tanks came, and hugging tight behind the shields of their armor were masses of dismounted infantry. With each line overrun, the Chinese gulped up significant stretches of this dusty highway. When the sun came up — instead of being driven back by Americans dug in the hillsides above them — the Chinese came back with still more force.’
In the background you could see American soldiers approach. They ran single file along the side of the tracks toward the camera — bent over at the waist to take shelter from the railroad’s embankment.
The female reporter turned just as a soldier skidded to a stop. With one hand he held the brim of his helmet. With the other, a rifle. ‘You’re gonna have to pick up and move, ma’am,’ the out-of-breath man said.
‘What’s the situation on the ground, lieutenant?’ the reporter asked as the camera took in the long line of men behind him. The others all lay in the dirt with their weapons and faces pointed toward the rear.
‘You don’t understand. I mean move now. On the double.’
There was an unartful splice of the tape. They had climbed to higher elevation and were taping the battlefield from behind some rocks. Smoke obscured much of the scene. The woman began.
‘We’ve moved now up into the hills where it’s safer. Shortly after we left the rail line, British Tornado bombers dropped canisters of napalm onto the onrushing Chinese forces. The heat was so intense we could feel it even through our winter clothes. Despite the certain devastation wrought by the sticky, flaming petroleum, the Chinese now hold that stretch of road and are surging ahead with suicidal fervor.’
The camera zoomed in through a break in the smoke. You could clearly see Chinese soldiers with their guns blazing as they rushed forward. Behind them was the skyrocketing fireworks from a tank whose turret was missing. Flashing through the air above was a missile trailing thin, silvery wires.