William Weber - Turning the Tide

The main assault on the eastern side would come from John’s own squad, Alpha. Bravo and Charlie would attack the southern and western fence lines respectively. In sniper support was Reese and a soldier with the 101st named Hoffman. The crack of their rifles taking out the first tower guards would be the signal to attack.

John swept the camp perimeter with his binoculars. Beside him, Reese did the same with the scope of his Remington 700. Guards in groups of twos and threes were visible walking outside the fence. Visibility inside the camp was obstructed by the rows of barracks and other buildings. But David Newbury had mentioned a courtyard and that executions sometimes took place there, although at this point it was impossible to see what was going on. The place seemed to be quiet, which was good. Launching the assault when the prisoners were out in the open would only have complicated the operation and put American lives at risk.

Behind him, the three squads of Rough Riders kept busy checking their weapons and gear. He took that opportunity to reach into his wallet for a picture of Gregory, taken for his high-school yearbook. His hair was short and turned up slightly at the front, a reference to some pop star he’d been trying to emulate. John stared at it for a long time before tucking it away. There was still work to do.

His mind shifted to the tools of his trade. As always, John carried his S&W along with his trusty AR-15. Many of the men with him used their standard-issue M4s, mostly because that was what they knew best. A few outliers opted for AK-47s and 74s.

Then at 1942 John caught the sound of a prop plane heading toward them from the east.

He, Reese and Moss all shared a knowing look.

Bringing the walkie to his lips, John depressed the actuator and spoke. “Prepare to move out on my signal.”

The sound of the plane’s engine grew louder until the underbelly streaked overhead, cutting through the weakening light. Although it was sporting Chinese air force colors, John knew right away Billy Ray had kept his word. The Cessna barrelled toward the camp right as John gave the order for his men to break cover and crawl into position.

The Cessna came in low and fast and pulled up right as it reached the fence line. Bundles of leaflets streamed from the open back door as Billy Ray passed over the camp. It was important that he spread the papers out as far as possible. The plane would not only serve as a distraction, pulling the guards’ eyes off the perimeter, it should also suck up manpower as they scrambled to collect the falling American propaganda before it landed in the prisoners’ hands.

From their concealed position, Reese and Hoffman kept an eye on the guards in the tower, ready to warn the squads whenever they risked being seen. Alpha, Bravo and Charlie squads emerged from the woods, keeping low to the ground, but not crawling. The low crawl they would save for once they were closer to the camp. Although they weren’t visible from here, John knew Delta, Echo and Foxtrot on his right were doing the same. This was the trickiest stage of the operation, getting his men across an open field and into position for the attack without being spotted.

Their first objective was the drainage ditches a hundred yards away which ran parallel to both the eastern and southern fence lines.

“I got enemy eyes looking your way,” Reese said calmly over the walkie.

John, out front, patted the empty air by his hip, an order for his men to go prone. They dropped at once and froze.

A handful of nerve-racking seconds passed.

The Cessna was now starting to take fire and Billy Ray dumped the rest of the leaflets and tipped his wings into a sharp turn toward the east.

Come on , John thought, feeling the anxiety creeping up his legs. We don’t have time for this .

Inside the camp, the guards were already busy collecting the papers. As John had hoped, even the perimeter guards had run back in to help their comrades.

“All clear,” Reese said at last.

John gave the signal and the three squads were back on their feet, their boots clomping over uneven ground.

When they reached the drainage ditch, Bravo and Charlie dropped into it, moving south until they found the intersecting ditch. This would hopefully allow them to approach the southern and western gates without being detected.

The lack of equipment had meant only the squad leaders had a walkie and an earpiece. Once Charlie climbed out of the depression, John would move the men of Alpha to within three hundred feet. In these last few crucial moments, timing and precision would mean everything.

For now they would keep low and rely on Reese to keep an eye out for any sentries who might wander too close. A quick check in with Delta, Echo and Foxtrot informed him they were making good progress. Delta was already blocking the eastern approach to the camp. The other two were still en route to their destination.

“So far, so good,” Moss said, encouraged. In the dimming light, the black camo paint on everyone’s faces made it hard to see anything but the whites of their eyes.

John poked his head up and peered through his binoculars. The North Koreans had started a bonfire in the middle of the camp where soldiers were burning handfuls of leaflets at a time.

“How long do you think before they finish cleaning up?” Moss asked, checking his rifle for the millionth time.

“Hard to say,” John replied. Nervousness didn’t turn him into a chatterbox the same way it did Moss. Far from trying to banish the anxiety, John felt it was often the very thing which kept him fully alert and on his toes.

Then came messages from Bravo, Echo and Foxtrot. They were all in position. That only left Charlie, which wasn’t a huge surprise, since they had the most ground to cover.

John checked the time and saw that it was nearly 20:00.

Then came the sound of gunfire and everyone in Alpha perked up at once.

“Those are AKs,” Moss said, worried.

A half-second later came the sound of the American M4s answering back. John didn’t need to be told that Charlie was taking fire and possibly pinned down in open terrain. More than that, Charlie’s squad leader wasn’t radioing in, which meant he might have been wounded or killed.

John pulled out a stopwatch strung around his neck and started the countdown. If the attack on the truck depot was anything to go by, then they could expect Chinese and North Korean reinforcements from Jonesboro to show up within the next twenty minutes. Getting on the walkie to Reese, John sent his sniper a single message. “Go to work.”

John and his men stormed out of the drainage ditch to the crack of Reese’s Remington 700. The round hit the tower guard just below the throat, spraying the wooden beam behind him with blood.

A second sniper shot rang out, this time from Hoffman killing another tower guard. Alpha was now charging the eastern gate at a full run, pausing here and there to fire. From the drainage ditch, Benson, their machine gunner, laid down suppressing fire with his M249. Along with Reese’s surgical strikes, the supporting fire from his weapon would keep the enemy’s heads pinned down, allowing John and his men to reach the gate without being cut down.

Soon chaos was erupting in every direction as each squad engaged the North Korean guards. For their part, the enemy soldiers seemed to be fighting back with equal determination. A small satchel charge carried by Alpha’s explosives expert, Specialist Heller, would blow the gate open once they got close.

Two shots whistled past John’s right ear. He dropped into a prone position and made a quick scan for the threat. A guard ducking behind a wooden building poked his head out and fired again. Rounds thudded into the ground, kicking up puffs of dirt. John peered through the scope of his AR, acquired the edge of the structure the guard kept popping out from behind and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. Out came the man’s head, his facial features tense with fear. John squeezed the trigger and the soldier’s head snapped back before his body fell somewhere out of sight.