Captain Wei of East Lightning had a fixed smile on his face as he slid an enclosed helmet over his head. Today, they were going to try something new, something special for these infuriating American holdouts.
The attack had been going on for days. This was the twelfth or thirteenth wave assault. That meant…eight or nine days ago since command had launched the Blue Swan missiles. Eight, yes, it had been eight days ago and they were digging out these American holdouts.
Eight days, or a lifetime if one considered how many cowardly offenders he had gunned down. At first, he had found it difficult. And the fear in him standing at the rear of the battle-line so American soldiers could actually sight him with their sniper rifles—he had kept himself drugged ever since.
His battle-suit was the latest in combat technology. Certain White Tiger squads had them and East Lighting commissioners in the penal battalions.
He wore powered armor from head to toe. It was not science fiction armor. He had seen several Japanese movies about those. There, a soldier could jump fifty meters or run like a bullet train. He could do nothing so amazing, although what he did was spectacular enough.
The suit was mostly body armor, but of such weight that electric motors helped the wearer move. It was mostly heavy dinylon mesh with a carbide-ceramic corselet. With the helmet’s CBR filter, it protected him from chemical or biological attacks. The visor in the helmet had a HUD and targeting crosshairs. He had several computers integrated into the suit, connecting him to the HQ net and various video feeds. He had two weapons. The first was an integral 5.56mm machine gun. All he had to do was turn his head and paint the crosshairs on a target and the ballistic computer did the rest, firing from his shoulder. Sound-suppressor plugs in his ears saved his hearing. He also had an electromagnetic grenade launcher. It, too, had a ballistic computer, adjusting for range, height and wind speed. He could lob the grenade over a hiding spot, raining death on whatever coward had thought to sit out the battle.
The powered armor was amazing, prohibitively expensive, and ran off the latest batteries. That was the suit’s greatest drawback. The batteries supplied power for six hours. Then they needed recharging. With charged batteries and full magazines, however, he was a walking tank. Unfortunately, he lacked normal mobility and if his sensors failed, he became deaf to the world. It was the perfect thing for a political commissioner watching his penal soldiers from the back, ready to destroy those who lacked the zeal to continue attacking.
How the White Tiger specialists used their powered armor, Wei didn’t know or care. In his company, three East Lighting commissioners had died, either slain by Americans or enraged political offenders who had turned their weapons on their betters. That had sobered the rest of them. At first, the East Light commissioners had feared their charges. Later, after shrugging off bullets and grenade fragments, Wei and several others had felt invincible. Watching a RPG penetrate the armor of a follow commissioner had cured them of that battlefield malady. Still, they had learned how to motivate the penal soldiers to courageous acts of madness.
Now command had sent them a fresh batch of penal personnel. Some of these offenders already had combat experience. Wei had spoken with his lieutenants and first ranks. Some of the new men might be more dangerous than those they had
Last night in an abandoned 7-11, Wei had received his inspiration.
“Why are we so eager to destroy Chinese citizens?” he asked the others.
They had remained silent, watching him carefully. The words he spoke, they were nearly heretical and therefore dangerous.
Wei had reached into a pocket and removed a blue pill. He had blue pills, red ones and yellow triangles that gave him fantastic hallucinations. Those he saved for his “let-down” times after battle, after killing too many of his offenders. Incredibly, shooting them outright had been much different than killing them on the torture table. Watching men crumple from his 5.56mm bullets, he had felt like a god inflicting such divine justice. It was an awesome sensation, but later gave him the shakes and a hollow feeling in his chest. At those times, to drive the emptiness away, that is when he’d popped the yellow triangles.
“Let us do as the Mongols once did,” Wei had told the others last night.
“Do you mean Genghis Khan?” a thin lieutenant asked.
“Yes, yes,” Wei said. “Genghis Khan was the greatest soldier in history. He was invincible in battle. Remember your studies, gentlemen.”
The lieutenants, and the first ranks milling behind them, continued to look at him in wary silence.
“We are consuming soldiers at too fast a rate,” Wei said. “That is what HQ has told us. Yet they also order us to clear minefields at once, or to storm a strongpoint and take it despite what casualties we might suffer. Excuses don’t matter. Am I right?”
Two of the lieutenants nodded. The taller of them squeezed a cigarette between his fingers, the tip glowing red as smoke curled.
“Yes,” Wei said. “I am right. Therefore, we have a contradiction. Win through at all costs but save personnel while you do so. The wave attacks have been succeeding, but at a terrible cost. Now I ask you, are we not the Chinese?”
“Yes,” a lieutenant said.
“Yes,” Wei said. “We learned at the hands of the greatest conqueror in history. Genghis Khan had his handful of Mongol warriors against China’s millions. He could not afford to spend his men like water against Chinese cities. What did he do? None of you knows, eh?”
Wei had eyed them, these hardened butchers, and he had seen their curiosity. This was amazing, as several of them had been as drugged as he was.
“The plan was simple,” Wei said. “The great Khan ordered his soldiers to gather Chinese peasants and captured city dwellers. These his soldiers drove with whips before them toward the besieged city walls. Enemy archers had a terrible choice, expended needed arrows to kill their fellow citizens or let the enemy get to the walls unscathed.”
Wei had smiled at them, a smile that had shown all his teeth. He had been genuinely happy with his thought.
“Tomorrow,” Wei told them, “we will gather a horde of Americans hiding in the ruins. Women and children, it doesn’t matter to me. Warm bodies are all that counts. Then we will drive them at the American strongpoints, letting our penal soldiers mingle among them. If the American soldiers fire, they will kill their own and possibly save some of ours.”
“What if the people try to run away?”
“We kill them,” Wei said. “We mow them down.”
The others looked at him. Then they looked at each other. Finally, those highest on drugs had grinned back at Wei.
Now morning was here and HQ had given him the order. They were supposed to wave-assault the American strongpoint that was holding the outskirts of El Cajon. The enemy had been adjusting, apparently trying to reshuffle their formations to gain strength to attack the northern-most Chinese. In other words, Army Group SoCal was trying to make a breakout in order to link-up with LA.
Inside his special body armor, Captain Wei grinned. His skin tingled and he felt good. He was pumped up. The men of his penal company had gathered nearly two hundred American civilians. With bayonets, they prodded the protesting mass up the street and toward the enemy strongpoint.
Last night, American artillery had laid quick-mines. Oh yes, the Americans were ready for a wave assault. But he doubted that they were ready for this.
“I am the son of Genghis Khan,” Wei told himself. “I am the conqueror.”
With his armor purring with battery power, Wei lurched out of the 7-11. He loved the clank of his footsteps. This was so different from the torture table. This was glorious.
Within the enclosed helmet, Wei frowned. The old way in Mexico City seemed like a world ago now. Yes, it had been much more peaceful, and safe. Now he was out on the battlefield. He shuddered. He remembered Maria Valdez and her hated curse. But there was no God and therefore no curse. Wei could do as he wanted on this Earth and no one would ever judge him for it. It was good to know that. Yes, very good, otherwise he might not have been able to devise such a clever tactic as the one he was about to spring on the defenders.
“Sir, can you hear me?”
Groggily, Marshal Nung opened burning, bloodshot eyes. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. Then
