William Weber - Turning the Tide

General Brooks was in the radio room when John arrived, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

“I could have you court-martialed, Colonel,” he shouted. “We’re on the threshold of the biggest operation of the war and you go off disobeying a direct order.”

John bowed his head. “I brought sixty more American troops as well as weapons and ammunition from Jamestown.”

“I’m sure you did, but that doesn’t change a thing. I should put Moss in charge of your outfit and keep you here under house arrest.”

“If I didn’t bring Brandon home, General, it wouldn’t only have killed his mother and sister, it would have killed Gregory and likely the morale of many more. The Marines never leave a man behind and neither should we. There’s no excuse for disobeying a direct order and I’ll accept my punishment.”

“All right, John. You’re lucky I need you. I don’t care that this attack plan is your brain child, if you push me again, I won’t hesitate.”

“Understood.”

The two men stood staring at one another.

Henry was on the radio and looked back, concerned.

“Did Phoenix send the Chinese the message?” John asked.

Brooks nodded. “A few hours ago.”

“Any new troop developments?”

“Not yet.”

“If they attack without warning, we might not make it in time to keep the pressure on,” John said.

“Yes, but when do battles ever go according to plan? Getting there may be the least of our worries. We’ll have the unknown and Murphy’s law to contend with.” Brooks glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand. “General Dempsey thinks you’re some kind of Ulysses S. Grant. Frankly, I think you’re overrated and more importantly, I don’t think we have nearly enough men and materiel. There’s over a million Chinese troops strung along that mountain range and maybe five thousand of us. I’m worried it’s gonna be a bloodbath.”

A signal came in then and Henry pressed the headphones close to his ears. A moment he turned back, his face ashen. “The Chinese have begun their attack.”

Diane and Emma were in the kitchen preparing lunch when John arrived and explained the situation.

“But who’s going to stay behind to defend Oneida?” his wife asked.

“The garrison will be more smoke and mirrors than actual men. We’ll set up machine-gun nests at key strong points, but most of the able-bodied men and women who know how to use a rifle will be marching east sometime within the next hour.”

“If you hadn’t suggested this plan in the first place,” Diane scolded him, “none of you would be leaving.”

The urge to crack a smile nearly got the better of him. “If you had a nickel for every time I told you you were right you’d be a rich woman. This plan is the best chance we have of saving American lives. General Dempsey was about to order a full-frontal attack on dug-in Chinese positions. The carnage would have been unbelievable.”

“Yes, but do you need to risk your own life, John?”

“I don’t want you to die, Dad,” Emma said.

“Neither do I, believe me,” he said, touching the back of his daughter’s head. “But how can I possibly ask my men to charge into battle if I’m not willing to stand beside them? Our faith has carried us this far. Don’t let it waver now when we need it the most.”

They caught the sound of footsteps heading tentatively down the corridor toward them. Soon a figure appeared in the doorway, one Diane and Emma didn’t recognize at first. Brandon dropped his duffel bag at his feet and smiled weakly and that was when Emma fainted.

John held his daughter in his arms while Diane fanned her with cool air.

“I didn’t mean to,” Brandon said sheepishly.

“She’s been hoping for this day for so long,” John told him. “If Justin Speeber had walked through the door, she wouldn’t have been more surprised.”

“It’s Justin Bieber, Dad,” Emma said, coming to. “And I don’t listen to him anymore.”

John helped his daughter to her feet. “Hey, what do I know?”

She held onto the table as she stared at Brandon and poked him with her finger.

Diane snickered. “Yes, he’s real.”

“And I suggest you hug him quickly before he goes,” John told her.

Emma looked physically wounded by the suggestion.

“I’m sorry, honey. We need everyone with combat experience we can scrape together.”

“But, Dad, he just got back.”

“I’ll give you two a moment,” John said. He turned to Brandon. “Be at the rendezvous point in thirty minutes.”

Brandon nodded as Emma’s eyes filled with hot tears. The thought of torturing her in this way was heartbreaking, but there was no other way around it. The boy would never admit it to Emma, but he wanted desperately to be part of the American counterattack. John only prayed he’d come home to her in one piece.

As promised, within the hour, the column left Oneida. Nearly six thousand strong, the force consisted of the scattered units from the 101st, 278th, and the 3rd Infantry Division as well as members of the town militia. The decision was made that they would move as a group. The tanks and Bradleys were split evenly between the front and the rear. At the back were the Humvees, many of them towing the 155mm artillery that had served them so well during the Chinese assault on the town. Over the last few weeks they’d managed to scrounge up enough fuel for the vehicles to enable a one-way trip to Colonial Heights. Finding a ride home afterward was something they would need to figure out when the time came.

Up toward the front of the group were John and his Rough Riders. Since many of them were on horseback, they could scout ahead and keep an eye out for Chinese roadblocks or ambushes.

The noticeable lack of such contact was not sitting well with any of them. They’d expected a running battle as they broke through the ring of Chinese forces on the way to their objective. Instead, it felt more like they were on a Sunday stroll east along Interstate 81.

Moss and two others came riding up alongside John.

“We just came across a Chinese anti-tank battery set up as part of the siege of Oneida.”

“Did you come under fire?” John asked.

“The gun wasn’t real. It was just a few logs lashed together and spray-painted green.”

“Was the paint fresh?”

“It looked it,” Moss said.

“The Chinese must have pulled men off the siege in the night to help bolster their offensive.”

“You look worried.”

“I only hope the Chinese attack doesn’t somehow manage to break through. If they’re gathering soldiers off a high-profile threat like Oneida, there’s no telling how many of the enemy our boys in the mountains will be facing.” The thought brought him back to tales he’d heard from the Korean War where US GIs described hordes of Chinese troops swarming over the hills like hungry locusts.

Every once in a while they would stop in order to establish radio contact with General Dempsey’s headquarters for a status report. The general himself was far too busy to speak with Henry or Rodriguez, but as John feared, one of his aides described a Chinese assault far more ferocious than any of them had expected. Over the last few weeks, each side had been sizing each other up like punch-drunk boxers. Crossing the Mississippi had been one thing, but dislodging a stubborn defender from hilltop positions was something else entirely.

It was only as they reached the edge of Colonial Heights, Tennessee that they came under fire. A platoon of Chinese soldiers were dug in along the interstate. Machine-gun nests with intersecting fields of fire would pose a problem for any approaching infantry. Immediately the armor moved up to eliminate the threat. The M1A2’s power 120mm cannon shook the ground as it pounded the enemy positions from more than a mile away. After that the Bradleys moved in, a squad of infantry in each vehicle. They opened up with their 25mm M242 chain guns, tearing into the remaining strong points with lethal accuracy. Soon, the Chinese unit climbed out of their foxholes and ran for their lives.