The bulk of the Japanese helicopter force had reacted to the Marine landings on either side of Manila Bay, allowing Buck’s battalion to seize the critical airfield at Subic Bay. They needed to secure the area quickly, call the C-17s circling in the sky, and prepare to defend against a heavy counterattack.
As quick as it had begun, the battalion’s first battle had tapered off. Casualties had been heavy on the airfield, as Japanese AH-X 30mm chain guns had formed a curtain of steel, killing Buck and at least thirty others. The light infantrymen had to contend with the forty wounded first, though.
With Buck dead, a young major fresh out of the Army Command and General Staff College was commanding the battalion. He spoke to the attack helicopter battalion commander, asking him to expand the security zone to the south so that the circling C-17s could land and discharge the combat troops waiting at the back ramps, rifles in hand, faces painted, adrenaline pumping, ready to go at it and kill the bastards that had once again forced them to fight and try to steady the tumbling play blocks of world power.
The C-17s came screaming in from above, landing almost atop one another. They received some small-arms fire from isolated pockets of Japanese soldiers not yet quelled. The Apaches fired Hydra rockets and let loose with 30mm chain guns on the enemy, driving them from Subic Bay Naval Base.
Two U.S. F-117 stealth bombers flew low across the water, like bats hunting insects, and dropped precision-guided munitions into each of the cargo ships that had off-loaded the Japanese weapons. Black smoke billowed high into the night, black on black, dimming the Manila City lights from Zachary’s vantage point.
His troops watched the display of combined arms warfare in awe. Naval gunfire began to pound the remaining Japanese vehicles positioned along the pier where the ammunition had been stacked — and from where Ayala had attacked.
“I guess this is what they meant when they said we were the main effort, huh, sir?” asked Slick, who had listened in on the battalion operations order earlier that afternoon.
Zachary didn’t answer. He watched as he saw an F-16 explode in the sky with a bright fury that momentarily lit the entire engagement area to include the ever-resilient white Quonset huts. Like a star cluster, pieces of the jet sprinkled down, seeming lighter and less dangerous than they really were, and fizzled in the water just off the pier.
Was it theirs or ours?
Who knew? Only the pilots fighting in the skies and the AWACS airplane reading squawk signals and directing traffic.
Curiously, it occurred to Zachary that it was his company that had made all of this possible. Without his guys, America’s course would have been much different. Then of course, there was Chuck Ramsey and his team to think about. And his brother, Matt.
Must get them both. Matt, where can you be? Are you safe? Chuck, has the Black Hawk found you?
Chapter 83
Zachary watched as Major Kooseman briefed the operations order. Kooseman had done well for being thrust into command during a raging battle. The tall major spoke nonchalantly about their next mission, a sharp contrast to the befuddlement of Colonel Buck, Zachary thought, then realized Buck was dead and squelched the thought.
“Right now, guys,” Kooseman said, “we’ve got two Ranger battalions hiding in the jungle, pinned down by an armored division. Over two hundred tanks.”
The group of captains, the commanders, collectively rolled their eyes and tightened their sphincters, waiting for the word that they were going to join the fray. The previous night’s battle had given most of the soldiers in the battalion their first taste of war. Many were already battle-stress casualties, having watched Japanese helicopters fire 30mm chain guns, mowing down their buddies, killing them. Only B Company’s precision fire had saved them by destroying many of the deadly attack helicopters.
The battle still raged on the perimeter. Naval gunfire popped in the offing, M1 tanks fired as if they were making headway, jets screamed overhead, helicopters came and went continuously, and, of course, the supply planes landed through it all.
They sat on the crusty, dried lava from Mount Pinatubo, amidst all the noise, just to the north of the white Quonset huts. The battalion was arrayed in the center as the brigade reserve, with the other two battalions securing the main avenues of approach into the naval base. Planes were landing every five minutes with support troops and supplies, trying to develop sufficient combat power to sustain extended operations.
Water was an issue, and it came rolling off the C-17s by the truckload. The heat had soared to over 115 degrees. The intelligence officer, Chip McCranum, had briefed that the heat was here to stay, with no relief in sight. As Zachary listened, he was reminded of George Carlin’s “Hippy-Dippy Weatherman”: ”During the night, dark, very dark. But when the sun comes up, light, very light.”
Tell me something I don’t know for a change.
Kooseman stood again, rising from the white dust and brushing his army combat uniform. Wisps of white dirt exploded off his pants. He squinted as the sun tried to reach inside his eyelids and fry his pupils.
“Tomorrow morning at 0400, we attack to seize the prison at Cabanatuan.” He made circling motions with his hands on the map that was positioned on an easel. “Our actions will be in concert with the Rangers, who will move from the jungles in the east as a feint to make contact with the enemy, draw their fire, allowing us to attack from the west.”
He continued to describe the mission. Zachary’s ears perked up when he heard his company men-tioned.
“B Company will attack to secure the road that joins Cabanatuan and Fort Magsaysay,” he said, pointing to a small line on the map that represented the three-mile road. “Zachary, your unit will establish blocking positions preventing enemy reinforcement either way.”
“Got it,” Zachary said, making a note to get with Kooseman later. He hated when other commanders interrupted the order with their parochial questions, and he had vowed never to do it.
“A Company and C Company, you’ll be coming with me into the prison of Cabanatuan. We will attack to seize the prison from enemy control, then our mission will revert to one of protecting the Filipinos. D Company, you’ll be in reserve, but I want you right behind us as we land and move in to attack the prison. Once we land, I expect that the Japanese will divert some forces from Magsaysay, where they have two battalions, and try to counterattack into Cabanatuan. Zachary, you’ve got to stop those guys.”
“Got it.”
Three battalions of tanks against a light infantry brigade. Zachary shook his head. Those zoomies better get out of the O-Club and fly then, dammit.
A hot wind blew across the hardstand, circling into a miniature funnel, picking up twigs and grass and disappearing. Zachary looked skyward, thinking that the entire operation depended on aircraft. They were using helicopters to air-assault into the objective area, and they needed attack helicopters and Air Force fighters to destroy the tanks.
Zachary squinted into the noonday sun, wondering if the air support would be able to do anything more than get them there.
Chapter 84
“Japs, can you believe it?” Sturgeon said to Matt and Barefoot, crouched low in the dirt behind a cluster of thick mahogany trees. The consensus was no, they could not believe it. With Japanese soldiers swarming around them, they had little time to discuss the matter. Are they friendly or enemy? Should we give ourselves up? Is this a joint operation with the United States and Japan trying to put down the rebellion? Even though Matt had theorized on that very occurrence, he was shocked at its reality.