Sudden Threat (49 page)

That and the fact that Takishi had a fresh division.

“Quit messing around with those light forces, let the bastards have the prisoners, and come to Manila,” Nugama had told him. “I need you now!”

But that had been two hours ago. It had taken Takishi that long just to organize his units for movement at two in the morning. He had decided to leave the prisoners locked in the buildings to rot. Nearly six thousand Filipinos wailing, screaming, and crying. He had a headache. He had slammed the door to the big building and locked it, drowning out the collective sounds of agony and pain. It was as if the country had been screaming in unison, shouting,
“Enough.”

Takishi spoke through the small microphone attached to his combat-vehicle crewman’s helmet and told his driver to lead the column to the east. They would button up their hatches and destroy the light infantry soldiers and blow down the road to Manila to defeat the Marines.
No problem.

His tank creaked along the cement road, crushing week-old rice that had been laid out to dry in the searing sun. The sun would rise in an hour, meaning he needed to make as much ground as possible before then. Somehow he felt safer in the darkness. Like pulling the bedspread over your head when you’re scared, it seemed protective to him.

He sat inside the buttoned-down hatch and watched the world pass through the high-definition thermal sight. Slewing the turret left and right with the commander’s override, he made out low ground to either side of the road.

“Be careful,” he said to Private Muriami, his young driver. The driver slowed, then Takishi said, “Not that careful,” realizing he needed to make time and fight the worthless light infantry, the least of his worries. They had an opportunity to deal the Americans a crushing blow.

He slewed the turret to the left as he passed through the Fort Magsaysay gate, then fully behind him, and watched with pride as all two hundred tanks of his task force were lined up, crawling slowly along the dirt road that met with the main avenue. He had left behind two infantry battalions and sixty fighting vehicles to hold off the Rangers while the tanks moved toward Manila. He had given the brigade commander instructions to maintain light contact, like a feint, while they discreetly slipped away from the Rangers until they had cleared Cabanatuan. Then he could move his two battalions along the same route, eventually effecting linkup.

As he watched, he saw a group of AH-X helicopters lift slowly off the airfield and take up positions on both flanks of his column, hovering like drone bees around the queen. He told Muriami to pick up the pace, and like an arrow, he slung the entire column to the east.

CHAPTER 87

“How many do you count, Slick?” Zachary asked, as they crouched low in the water.

“From the first one, I see about fifty, then there’s a bunch of hills. Sounds like there’s a helluva lot more,” Slick said with a nervous edge on his voice. They could hear the tanks whining, tracks squeaking on the cement.

“No shit.” Then turning to Kurtz, Zach said, “Mike, spread your guys out along these dikes. Put your men with AT4s closer to the road, about two hundred meters. Keep your other Javelin guys back about six hundred meters—about where we are now. We’ll let Taylor and the boys knock out about the first twenty tanks, then the whole column will be stuck right here with nowhere to go.”

“Got it, sir,” Kurtz said, anxious to enact the plan. The tanks were rapidly approaching and he needed some time to brief his men. He would not have that time, though. He would only be able to tell his men where to go and when to shoot. Sometimes, that’s all it took.

Zachary had called Major Kooseman for backup attack-helicopter support, but received only a “wait, out” from the major, who was busy orchestrating the fight in Cabanatuan. “There may be no fight if you don’t get me those birds,” Zachary had told him, “I’ve got tanks heading in your direction.”

“Bravo six, this is Red six, over.”

Zachary responded to Taylor’s call.

“I’ve got two civilians in my AO. They’re Americans. Might be two of the hostages we heard about. One’s wounded pretty badly in the leg. What should I do with them?” Taylor asked.

So far, he had successfully put the issue of his brother on the back burner. He had been cognizant of it, but had forced himself to deal with the matters at hand. Taylor’s call had served to rotate the turnstile, as if his mind could only handle the array of events one at a time. First, the war, then his brother, next the war, then his brother. He envisioned an usher taking tickets as the thoughts strolled through the stile. Brother, war, brother, war, and so on.

Kneeling in the stinking mud and water, he called back to Taylor.

“I’ll call a medevac for them. Have
two
troops move them to checkpoint three-one for pick up.”

It was the only right thing to do. He imagined that there were two brothers back in the United States somewhere who were glad he had called the medevac for the two men.

“You okay, sir?” Slick asked, sensing his com-mander disconnect from the increasingly pressing events.

Zachary turned and looked at the young soldier, patted him on the back, and said, “Let’s kill some bad guys.”

The tanks passed to his front, only six hundred meters away. It was nerve-racking, watching them from such a short distance. Would one of his soldiers screw the plan and fire too soon, or too late? It was a distinct possibility, given the haphazard pace of events.

“They look just like M1s, sir,” Slick said.

“More like the German Leopard 2, Slick. Almost an exact copy,” Zachary said, releasing some nervous tension. He rested his M4 on his dry knee as he lay back against a muddy dike.

He saw the first missile strike the second tank, causing a brief fireball that lit the immediate sur-roundings. Successive missiles scored hits as well, stopping the column so that roughly thirty tanks, two companies, were beyond the rice paddies.

That’s too many
, Zachary thought to himself. But he waited. Maybe they could still do it.

Takishi slewed the
turret to the right, wishing they would quickly get off the dike that was the road separating two large paddy fields.
This place will be good for factories one day
, he thought, as his tank finally passed beyond the rice paddies.

He slewed the turret back to the left, enjoying the ride.
Okay, where are these guys?
He had reports from his logistical units in Cabanatuan that they were under heavy fire from what seemed like a battalion of light infantry.
Are you kidding me? A battalion?

“Muriami, let’s go find these people and get to Manila,” Takishi said as Muriami raced the jet engine, slamming Takishi’s ribs into the steel seat back.

The other tank commanders followed suit, glad they were able to move faster, no longer impeded by the sudden drop on either side.

When he noticed some hot black spots burning in his thermal sight, he slewed the turret even with the road to gain perspective, then back again at the rising ground.

There they are!

“Gunner, high explosive, enemy personnel in the woods,” Takishi said, mimicking the precision of a skilled soldier.

The loader slammed one round into the massive breech while the gunner took control and lased to the target. His signal came back quickly, indicating he was a mere four hundred meters away.

“Acquired,” the young sergeant announced with cold acumen. He could have been on a Sunday drive for all he cared.

Takishi said, “Fire when ready,” only to override the gunner when he saw the missiles screaming toward his column of tanks.

The gunner’s shot flew errant, cutting a white hole into the black night, landing almost a mile away without doing any damage.

Zachary watched in
disbelief as the first tank continued to roam free on the hardpan. Taylor’s men had fired two volleys of Javelin missiles and three sets of AT4s. He thought he counted fifteen enemy vehicles burning. They burned a brilliant orange hue that quickly mixed with the black smoke of melting rubber.

But that’s only half.
Zachary was growing increasingly concerned. He did not want Kurtz to shoot his wad on the thirty or so tanks lined up to his front if Taylor needed the help.

The Japanese tanks that could turn off the road raced for the wooded knoll, offering only frontal shots, the worst kind, for Taylor’s gunners and randomly spitting machine-gun fire into the edge of the forest. It was almost too late for Zachary to have Kurtz’s men do anything about the advance.

Zachary checked and achieved a small measure of reassurance when he saw five tanks burning bumper to bumper at the junction in the road where the rice paddies gave way to hardstand.

No way they’re getting around that.

“Bravo six, this is Red six, we’re taking heavy fire, over!” came Taylor’s nervous voice, almost seeming to squeak in a high pitch. He thought he could hear the bullets whipping past Taylor over the microphone.

“Roger—”

“Break, break,” Barker said, loudly, short-circuiting the commander. “This is Blue six. I’m on your flank now. Engaging. Out.”

Zachary watched as six missiles arched through the sky, and found targets, stopping the tanks in their tracks.

That leaves nine.

Another volley, this time AT4s disabled two more tanks.

Seven.

Zachary watched as some of the tanks stacked on the road tried to turn off and support the attack. They were unsuccessful, mostly dipping over the edge of the concrete road, then rolling into the deep mud, and sticking, unable to move forward or back. One tank turned its tread until it chewed the concrete, made partial purchase in the mud, then flipped, pinning down and ultimately drowning the tank commander, who had opened his hatch to guide the effort.

Some of the other tanks, though, turned their turrets and began to support the attack with small-arms fire and main gun blasts. Finally, his tactical patience had reached its limit.

“White, this is Bravo. Do it.”

“Roger,” Kurtz responded.

Kurtz’s men rose from the swampy bog like Francis Marion’s American Revolution cavalry, water and mud and rice stems streaming and hanging off their bodies. They fired volley after volley of antitank weapons, nearly depleting the company’s entire stock, including the plus up from the ammunition pile at Subic.

The return fire was unexpectedly heavy, splashing into the mud, spraying water in all directions.

There they were again. Those damned heli-copters, firing 30mm chain guns at his men.

Zachary radioed Major Kooseman and asked again about the attack helicopters, “We need support now, sir,” he told him.

“Helos are five minutes out,” Kooseman told him.

Five minutes? This thing’ll be history in five minutes.

Zachary watched as another volley from Barker’s platoon cut the attacking force down to three tanks.

“Bravo, this is Red, we’re out of tank-killing systems, over,” Taylor said, sounding disgusted.

“This is Blue. Likewise,” Barker said, piggy-backing on Taylor’s bad news.

Zachary dropped his hand into his lap after saying, “Roger, continue to fight, attack helicopters on the way.”

He felt the first draft of the cool wind lift a matted hair off his forehead as he heard a helicopter in the background. Could it be? No, it was not. Only the medevac for the two civilians.

A raindrop touched his nose. At first, he thought an enemy round had kicked water into his face, but distinguished the coolness of the liquid and looked skyward. Lifting his goggles from his face, he saw heavy clouds racing across the creeping grayness of the morning like a Yankee clipper cutting through stormy seas. Then he looked at the stack of enemy tanks, some burning, some firing, some cocked crazily over the lip of the road.
What a perfect target.

Defenseless tanks were lined up single file on the road with only a few enemy helicopters swarming for protection. The beauty of it was that the Japanese self-propelled artillery was stacked on the road as well. For the moment, they were safe from any indirect fire, but still in great danger from the enemy helicopters bobbing up and down behind the tree line near Fort Magsaysay.

The rain came with an unexpected suddenness. Cool and heavy, the drops felt larger than normal. The wind blew sideways, making the rain feel like tiny darts against Zachary’s face. It felt both hot and cold at the same time. Zachary prayed for the aberration to go away, hoping it was a simple thunderstorm. The wind gusted, spitting cold water in his face out of defiance, reporting that things were only going to get worse.

The intensity of the rain increased, pelting down in sheets.

CHAPTER 88

Greene County, Virginia

Other than being totally humiliated and having her car destroyed, Meredith’s worst injury was the gash on her head from Stone’s fireplace. She had crawled from the wreckage, running and not looking back, fearing that either Stone was chasing her or that her car was about to catch fire and explode.

The car, while totaled, did not burn, and thankfully she had been wearing her seat belt. She had spent one night in the Georgetown hospital, then rented a car so she could go to the one safe place she believed was still available to her.

She spoke to her assistant, Mark, over the phone from the Garrett house in Stanardsville. She told him that she would be reporting back to work in a few days, that she had an accident and needed to recover.

“Yeah, the SecDef personally came down here looking for you,” Mark said.

I bet he did.

“Really, did he say anything?”

“Not really. Just said he was doing ‘battlefield circulation,’ otherwise known as management by walking around. He asked where you were, then split. He looked kinda nervous.”