“Yeah, well, tell that to them. We need all the close air support you can give us.”
“Colonel, I’ve got an asset a few klicks from your position, but we’re on strict orders to patrol our current location.”
“Forget your orders, Major. The enemy is here. If you do as you’re told, you’ll be signing the death warrant for thousands of American troops. We’re at the junction of Interstate 81 and 26. Our armor’s been knocked out, so was our artillery, so whatever you see rolling on the ground belongs to the bad guys.”
John didn’t get a response.
The lieutenant from the 101st crawled up next to them, along with a medic, who took over.
“Are they sending anyone?” he asked, trying to mask the desperation in his voice.
“Doesn’t look like it,” John replied. “They’ve got orders to patrol an empty stretch of highway further east. I just don’t understand it.”
With Moss being cared for, John and the other unwounded soldiers made their way back to an intact corner of the building. The Russian tanks and IFV’s were now drawing into two parallel columns, firing back at the Americans in both directions. AT-4 rockets streaked down from rooftops as well as the top of the embankment on both sides. A few vehicles were hit and exploded into violent balls of flame. Others were protected by their reactive armor and riddled the AT-4 teams with devastating fire.
A brave group of Russian troops stormed up the embankment, scaling its steep slope and engaging the Americans on the other side. John and the others fired down on them, drawing the attention of the armored column stretched along the highway. Heavy shells from the BTR’s 30mm cannon ripped into their position and John ducked down, feeling the pebbles from the industrial roof hurled into his back and sides from the explosions.
A second later the BTR exploded in a yellow and orange burst of flame, followed by the T-90 right next to it. Soon the highway was awash with explosions that forced John’s head back down for cover. It was only when he saw the Russian infantry melt under Gatling gun fire from the sky that he began to understand. Major Donaldson had sent an AC-130 Gunship, essentially a Hercules transport plane bristling with weapons. A 30mm Bushmaster 2 cannon, 105mm M102 Howitzer and ten AGM-176 Griffin air-to-surface missiles were only some of what the aircraft could bring to bear.
Overhead, it circled the battlefield, raining death upon the enemy with pinpoint precision. A company of Russian infantry that tried to take shelter under the overpass were obliterated by two shells from the Howitzer. The trail of fire flowed west along the entire Russian column. Soon the few support vehicles that were left turned and fled back north.
From there John took a deep breath and ordered his remaining troops to clear any remaining enemy troops from the suburbs.
“Major Donaldson gives you his best,” the pilot said over John’s walkie.
“Tell him when this is all over, I’m buying each one of you a beer.”
The pilot laughed. “Roger that.”
John scanned the air and saw the AC-130 head west, presumably back to base. He was about to give the order to move all the wounded into a makeshift triage area when Reese came over the walkie.
“I hope you’re sitting down, Colonel.”
“Reese, I’m glad to hear you’re still alive.”
“Not for long. I’ve got a line of Russian armor as far as the eye can see heading our way.”
Chapter 59
John felt his entire world drop out from under him. “What?”
“Those Russkies who hit us just now, well, they musta been the forward tip of a much larger force.” Reese paused and John could tell he was fishing in his pocket for what was likely his final cigarette. “Should we order a retreat?”
“How long do we have?”
“Hard to say. Maybe ten minutes before first contact.”
He thought of Gregory and Brandon. Were they all right? His duties as a father and his duties as a commander pulled him in two competing directions.
A moment later Reese was back on the radio. “Colonel, I got a second massive formation heading in from the east.”
The game was up. The Chinese were trying to break out of the American encirclement. Now it seemed it was John and his men’s turn to be crushed between two irresistible hammer blows.
An orderly retreat was out of the question. The only hope for any of them at this point was to disperse and melt into the surrounding area. With any luck, at least some of them would make it back to Oneida. Or whatever would be left of it.
“Wait a minute,” Reese said. “You may wanna hold that order.”
“What do you see?”
“Those aren’t the Chinese coming from the east. Those are our boys.”
John found a better vantage point and scanned through his binoculars. But Reese was only partially right. What was approaching was the tip of the NATO spear. John swung to the left and saw that the Russian force was now about five miles away.
The sound of approaching aircraft filled the air. Flying low to the ground, a dozen A-10 Warthogs roared over them and John plugged his ears from the deafening noise. Close behind them was a group of Apache gunships. Thick clouds of black smoke soon appeared as the Russian column was torn to shreds. The carnage went on right up until the long line of NATO armored vehicles reached the interstate junction John and his men had been ordered to hold. He gave Moss a final check before he climbed down to greet them.
Many of the fighters who’d been defending the strip came out from cover, staggering toward the approaching troops as though part of a mirage. Many of the soldiers had bloody bandages wrapped over their heads or arms. Others had improvised, using pieces torn from their uniforms to stem a bleeding wound.
To the north, loud detonations continued as the Russian vehicles were devastated by American airpower.
John turned to the lieutenant. “Find out if my sons are all right, will you?” He didn’t want to stumble onto what was left of them if the unthinkable had happened.
The lieutenant ran off just as a Humvee rolled up along the shoulder of the highway and pulled to a stop. Beside it, the long row of tanks and fighting vehicles continued to roll past, among them M1A2s, the British Challenger 2 and German Leopard 2.
The Humvee door swung open and an older officer in fatigues stepped out. John spotted five stars running down the center of his uniform and the name on his chest: Dempsey.
John and the others stiffened and saluted.
Cool and collected, Dempsey returned the gesture. “Where’s General Brooks?”
John’s eyes fell. “He didn’t make it, sir. Neither did Colonel Higgs.”
The general shook his head, scanning over John’s shoulder to the sound of exploding enemy armor. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear that. I won’t lie to you, Colonel, things were touch and go for a while back there. At first the Chinese refused to fully commit to the attack. Our center line must have been pushed back thirty miles before they were all in. If any of those Russian reinforcements had shown up, it would have tipped the scale in the enemy’s favor. We owe you all a debt of gratitude.”
Just then John’s walkie came to life. “Colonel, the Russians are retreating.”
Everyone present cheered, hugging each other, some shaking their weapons above their heads.
Hearing Reese’s message must have made something click in the general’s head. “Colonel Mack?” Dempsey asked, surprised.
“Yes, sir.”
“I expected you to be taller.”
John and the others around him smiled. “If I may,” John replied, “I expected you to be younger.”
Now they both laughed.
The armored column slowed to allow Brandon, Gregory and the lieutenant who found them to cross the highway. When he saw them, John fell on his knees and hugged them both.