“…Yes,” Sims said, rubbing his temples. “That’s right. Please, continue, General.”
“Thank you, sir. Well, we’ve finally discovered one of the secrets to their continuous assaults. Before I tell you about that I want to reiterate that the Chinese switch formations constantly. They retire the fatigued formation and bring up another to continue the attack. It’s true that other armies have done this in the past. The Chinese appear to have made it an art. They are well trained in this particular maneuver.”
From an aide, Sims accepted a pill and a glass of water. He popped the pill and drank. Then he returned his attention to the General of the Joint Chiefs.
“The Chinese have been ruthless in their use of penal battalions,” Alan was saying, “accepting staggering casualties. I stand by the nearly one million enemy casualties, sir. Our soldiers have fought heroically. In any case, the Chinese also have these special infantry. That is the new thing we’ve learned, sir: the feature that makes the formations so special.” The General glanced at Anna. “Surprisingly, the CIA discovered their specialty, as it were.” Alan nodded to her.
“With your permission,” Anna said to Levin.
“You do not need his permission to speak here,” Sims said. “You already have mine.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Anna said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Levin scowl. But she couldn’t worry about that now. She cleared her throat and concentrated on Sims. “There were certain features about the special infantry that have troubled me for some time now. I checked the records and—”
“Summarize the information please, Ms. Chen,” Sims said.
“Yes sir. It appears the Chinese created the special infantry formations with the idea of accepting fifty to sixty percent casualty rates as a matter of course. Perhaps they studied General Alan’s Battle of the Somme.”
No one smiled.
“Ah…” Anna said, “I believe the Chinese have studied the problem of modern war in detail. I’m speaking about the lethality of it. They appear to have come to certain conclusions quite different to anything we would have decided. I mean, of course, the acceptance of mind-numbing losses.
“Now, as few soldiers would care to join such an organization or perform with any zeal in it, the Chinese refined the needed motivations. Normally, to stir their soldiers, militaries make appeals to glory, to patriotism or to duty in order to energize regular fighters. On the other hand, we believe the special infantry respond to post- hypnotic suggestions and drugs. The process appears to have created a suitably compliant soldier—a zombie if you will—more than willing to expend his life in pursuit of the attack.”
“What you’re saying—that’s evil,” Sims said.
“And grossly wasteful of lives,” General Alan added.
“Nevertheless,” Anna said, “the special infantry exists and we have the evidence of their actions. The Chinese have used them to break stubborn resistance and to do it
“You’re saying there is a different percentage in Southern California?”
“Yes, Mr. President. It appears to fluctuate between four to seven percent. We believe more special infantry lands from China every day. Naturally, such formations do not last long.”
“And you’re telling me that this is what happened in Palm Springs?” Sims asked.
Anna glanced at General Alan.
The slim general motioned to his aide, the major. She switched on the holo-video in the center of the table and began to explain what they viewed.
It began as a classic attack with heavy artillery fire and then T-66s on overwatch as they advanced in three- tank platoons toward the outskirts of Palm Springs. From above, Chinese UCAVs bored toward the city. American tac-lasers beamed, taking down a dreadful number, while SAMs rose to engage the aircraft. Then air-to-ground missiles fired from Chinese standoff bombers arrived. It was like many of the other battles, a furnace of destruction. Finally, the Chinese reached the urban areas.
The major used zoom, showing them Chinese ground assaults. It showed wave after wave of special infantry doggedly charging the entrenched defenders who used heavy machine guns and mortars. Thousands of enemy soldiers died, yet still they advanced, still they attacked. Meanwhile, the T-66s crept into position.
“This is horrifying,” Sims whispered. “It’s a butcher’s yard.”
Now a new tank assault began, sometimes churning over the dead bodies of special infantrymen. The weight of the attack was too much for the outnumbered defenders. The Chinese entered Palm Springs and a savage street-by-street battle for the city began as other T-66s circled the city.
“They just keep coming,” Sims said. “We’re destroying so many. How can the Chinese afford the losses?”
“That is the question,” General Alan said. “We’re killing more of them than they kill of us, but they keep pushing us back. Now the Chinese are halfway through the I-10 corridor of San Gorgonio Pass. We’re fighting every inch of the way and it’s a deathtrap for their tanks. The width of the pass is one to two miles. The Chinese are using heavy air support, massive artillery bombardments and hordes of attacking special infantry. Even so, we’re killing them at five-to-one ratios, sometimes even ten to one, but they always have more hardware, more tanks, aircraft, artillery and bodies.”
“We have to accelerate the retreat along I-15,” Sims said. “We need those soldiers.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“What do you need from me?” Sims asked.
“Sir, I believe that
“And if the Chinese capture the Bay Area?”
“We’re raising new Militia units there even now, sir, just as we’re doing in Greater Los Angeles. In the south, the Chinese have three times, maybe more, the number of soldiers we do. In the Bay Area, I believe we have more men. The Chinese might win local victories there, but I do not believe they can capture the entire Bay Area fast enough to matter, not unless they receive reinforcements.”
“Which the Chinese might very well receive if they capture the ports of San Francisco or Oakland,” Sims said.
“True. We have to decide on priorities, sir, on which situation is more pressing.”
“It will become very pressing if the Chinese land another one hundred thousand soldiers in San Francisco or two hundred thousand.”
“Our submarines are lurking there, sir, in greater number than previously. If needed, we can sacrifice them in order to destroy enemy troopships.”
The President drummed his fingers on the table as he scowled at the holo-vid. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Send all the reinforcements south to Los Angeles. The Chinese are making their play there, so that is where we have to stop them.”
The extended battle in the Californian city had turned it into a mass of rubble as far as the eye could see. Chinese artillery had pulverized Poway for days. Tanks moved like ancient dinosaurs, shoving aside concrete and twisted steel girders. Shaped-charge grenades, armor-piercing mortar rounds and heavy machine gun fire hammered at the armored creatures. Sometimes, pterodactyl-like UCAVs swooped over the grim terrain. Missiles launched from under their wings, burning red and striking with tremendous clouds of smoke. In the end, the dinosaurs always died to the small mammalian creatures that lived like rats in the rubble, popping up to shoot and scoot elsewhere.
Grime and dust coated Paul Kavanagh. He lay on pulverized gravel and concrete. He wore heavy body armor and had several small computers attached to his suit. They had been flown in special delivery. The computers fed him a constant stream of data. He fed higher command with surveillance information. Romo was nearby, crawling ahead to take out a Chinese sentry.
Paul stiffened as he heard a gurgle of sound. A moment later, one of his computers beeped quietly. Staying on his belly like a snake, Paul slithered forward, following a signal. Soon he reached Romo. The assassin lacked any body armor, but wore a camouflage suit. The corpse on the ground still grabbed at the piano-wire-like garrote that
