Taking Command

There were two more half-hearted probes during the daylight hours. There were more enemy bodies in evidence than Bill would have expected. More disconcerting was evidence of movement on their flanks. Their rear quadrant, thanks to terrain, was the only direction from which an attack was unlikely if not impossible on any scale that would pose a serious threat. They had expected all along to be attacked on three fronts or at the very least, a 180 degree front.

The attack on the second night was a full scale assault or at least a probe in force on a wide front. The attack included indirect fire weapons---mortars---but of such low intensity that it could be assumed that they enemy was not well supplied with such ordinance. A significant number of enemy soldiers got within a few meters of the forward lines but all paid the price for their efforts. They took their first casualties that night. Three dead, three seriously wounded and a dozen ambulatory. It cast a pall over the command and sowed the seeds of doubt.

Major Wallace rallied his leaders and ensured their heads were back in the game. He sent each of them out to check their lines, redistribute needed supplies and reassert a spirit of confidence and competence. The Marines successfully took out two mortar tubes and indirect fire---which always kills and wounds the most in battle---became a non-issue.

The third night involved a basic infantry charge in astounding numbers reminiscent of the Chinese pouring across the border into North Korea during the Korean War. The detonation of the buried fuel bladders killed or maimed hundreds but still the attack continued. Daylight would show that some of the enemy died within a few feet of the friendly lines and at more than one location the unit soldiers had to fall back to fighting positions behind them. There were more wounded friendlies and two more KIAs.

The attack raged for hours and threatened to overwhelm them. Without air support or heavy artillery, Major Wallace himself was beginning to lose his resolve. His radio crackled with the voice of hope.

"I've got a full load of assorted munitions and my orders are that it belongs to you. Mark your perimeters and give me a box to drop it in."

The edges of the base were marked with special transponders which the B1 bomber thousands of feet overhead would use to determine the extent of the friendly lines. Bill transmitted the coordinates of the box he wanted annihilated.

"That's danger-close, old buddy. This stuff is precise but not that precise."

"Drop it East-West so you don't end up skipping one in on us. There's a low berm between us and the box. Anyplace else but the box I gave you and it isn't going to do us much good. Give us the heads up and we'll get our heads down."

"You got it, friend....bombs away...two minutes to impact...thirty seconds...duck!"

The tens of thousands of pounds of high explosive ordinance dropped in a strip and set with proximity fuses to explode over the target and not on impact had the desired effect. Hundreds of enemy combatants were killed instantly. Their disorientation allowed the aviation unit's security platoon and the Marines to execute a counter attack and kill the remaining enemy between the camp's outer perimeter and the target box. A cheer rang up within the camp. Bill was grateful for the morale boost but knew that the battle was not over.

"Any more of you guys up there?" he asked their savior.

"Tomorrow night we'll get you another load—don't know exactly when but we won't forget about you."

They didn't have any more surprises for the enemy other than a few rows of claymore mines and some booby traps. They'd used up all of their most impressive stuff repulsing the attack. Fighting positions were reinforced, ammunition was redistributed and people slept in their fighting holes in shifts. Bill had been confident that they could make it through two nights; counting the first probe they were coming up on their fourth. He met with his Marine LT.

"Major, we've taken out their observation posts and we nailed 'em pretty good last night. There are several hundred vehicles massed about three clicks (kilometers) North. My gut says they're forming up for one final hurrah."

"What are we talking about---a cavalry charge? Haven't these people ever heard of General Custer at the Little Big horn?"

"We've seen this before, sir. They'll mount up in a bizarre assortment of vehicles and just try to drive into the camp. It's suicidal but they don't seem to care. I recovered a half a dozen shoulder launched TOW (Tube launched, Optically tracked, Wire guided) missiles from the log pad but that's only going to take out a handful. There are probably fifty LAWs (Light Anti-tank Weapon) we could distribute but they're not worth much beyond seventy-five meters---if that with an untrained operator."

"Wait! Did you tell me that you took out their observers? They can't see what's going on down here?"

"Roger that....but they'll be replaced."

"I want to set out another line of fighting holes fifty meters in front of where we are now. Don't waste a lot of time digging. Sand bag 'em with the bags of smokeless powder we prepared. Wire 'em up with whatever you can find. There are enough AKs(AK47 Assault rifle the preferred weapon of third world armies) out there to stick a couple over the top of each one. Maybe it will at least ruin their breakfast."

"I like the way you think, Major."

The next member of his command to speak to him was his maintenance officer.

"I got it working sir---the mini-gun...it works. I've got it on a seven ton with every damn box of linked 7.62 I could lay my hands on. Where do you want us to deploy, sir?"

One more surprise in their bag of tricks...would it be enough?

Soon after nightfall the "mechanized" assault by the tenacious enemy commenced. The fifty cals hammered away at the speeding vehicles but the onslaught seemed unabated. The TOWs were deployed with excellent, albeit meager results. The LAWs took their toll and still the vehicles kept coming.

The enemy dismounted, taking cover in the newly created false fighting positions and were quickly incinerated when the rapidly burning powder was touched off. A B1 returned as promised and laid down another strip of death and destruction but by that time there were already enemy trucks inside the wire moving relentlessly toward the friendly fighting positions.

The enemy had ignored the presence of the seemingly disabled seven ton truck on their flank which was perfectly positioned to lay down a field of enfilade fire. Major Wallace gave the order to commit his last surprise. His brave young maintenance officer advanced on the trucks, tearing them to pieces with a blistering stream of hot death spewing from the six barrel weapon at 2,000 rounds per minute. She herself was at the wheel; when the young woman manning the gun went down, she climbed up on the back of the truck and took over for her fallen warrior. A member of the security platoon rushed to the cab and took the wheel.

The enlisted woman behind the wheel was killed and the young Captain manning the machine gun critically wounded but not before turning the tide. A counter attack was organized; the remaining trucks were routed and their occupants slain. There were now twelve dead, fourteen seriously wounded and untold walking wounded. As day broke, Major William Wallace surveyed the death and destruction before him. He could see easily a thousand bodies and hundred of burning or burned out vehicles.

He had been able to determine from radio chatter that similar attacks were in progress throughout the war zone. This had been the enemy's Tet offensive, as in Vietnam in 1968. Just as then, it had been a final, last ditch effort---and it had failed.

They had no more surprises and were even beginning to run low on critical supplies. The enemy had fallen back...to regroup and attack again? No one could be certain.

***

The cavalry finally came later that morning, better late than never, in the form of a mechanized task force augmented with a howitzer battery from one of the nearest supported combat units. As Major Wallace walked out to greet them, he was surprised to find himself face to face with an old friend with two stars on his lapel.

"Last I checked, General, this looks like a Lieutenant Colonel's billet at best. Where the hell you been, sir?"

"Had a few battles of our own to fight. What's your status?"

"Twelve KIA, fourteen critical but stable WIA and I have no idea how many walking wounded."

"I've got a surgical team with me. Point them in the right direction." Wallace did so.

"Enemy KIA?"

"We haven't had time to count. A thousand---thousands? Hard to say."

"Jesus Christ! There were attacks all over the country---all repulsed decisively. It would seem you and your people were of special interest. How'd your folks do?"

"Damn good, sir...damn good. Fought their asses off...every last one of 'em. I couldn't be more proud."

"Stand down then, Major, the task force will secure your perimeter. Let your people get cleaned up, fed and get some shut eye. Is that imposing figure over there who I think it is? What the hell is..."

"Long story, General, but she's one damned handy person to have around when the shit hits the fan...one hell of a soldier. Seems she loves to make things go boom."

"Do tell."

"If it's okay with you, sir, I like to get my soldiers together and say a few words."

"Carry on, Major. I wasn't sure what I'd find here this morning. It would appear you gave me another one of your miracles. I owe you, Bill."

"I'd have to give all the credit to my officers, NCOs and men and women. I'd be proud to serve with each and every one of them anytime and anywhere. All I did was..."

"Lead 'em?"

"I suppose, sir...give them the opportunity to show what they're made of?"

"That's what leaders do, Bill...I'm not telling you anything you don't know. Go attend to your soldiers, Major."

***

"Folks I guess this would be a good time to conjure up a famous quote from my name sake; the only one that comes to mind is, 'Every man dies. Not every man---or woman---really lives.' From this day forward I assure every one of you that life will be just a little sweeter...a little more precious. Many read history---few have the honor of living it.

"The accounts of this unit's exploits---its courage and mettle---will become warrior lore for years to come. You are all insanely brave...you're all heroes...valiant warriors. As we mourn our dead and care for our wounded, as we recall the gallantry of our fallen comrades...as we view the horrific carnage which is all around us, hold your heads high and just for an instant, smile and enjoy the sweet taste of victory, for only the chosen few ever have that unique opportunity and no one can ever take it away from you.

"I am proud to have served with you...proud to have led you...proud to have known you. I salute you now as courageous and tenacious warriors---the best of the best...the proud children of a proud, free land."

The general leaned over and whispered to the colonel. "I think I'll pass on following that act---how about you?"

"I couldn't agree more, General. Tell me, sir...is he a descendent of..."

"If not in blood line, certainly in spirit...has been as long as I've known him."

"What's he do? I mean, what's his civilian job?" asked the reporter from the major metropolitan newspaper.

"He's a school teacher. He teaches high school history."

"Remarkable!"

"That he is...that he is."

Edited by Techsan