1st Special Forces (Airborne) leaped from the landing skids and dispersed across the landing zone. Smoke plumes drifted with the wind, defining the LZ, a scar in the forest left by a recent logging operation. Super Stallions and twin-rotored Sea Knights bearing the squadron numerals and markings of the U.S. Marines and the 6th Marine Expeditionary Unit were also present, settling to the ground as soldiers unloaded heavy equipment, weapons, and vehicles from their holds. From one grounded Sea Stallion, a line of men with paint-blackened faces and camo fatigues quietly filed down the rear ramp and fell into formation. They wore floppy boonie hats like their That counterparts, and carried a variety of weapons, ranging from M-16s to Israeli Uzis to Soviet-made AKMs.
They were Marine Recon, members of the Force Recon company assigned to MEU-6. Their specialty was landing in advance of the main body of Marines during an amphibious operation in order to gain pre-landing intelligence. If Marines considered themselves the best, Marine Recon considered its people the best of the best, an elite commando unit as capable as ? they themselves would have said more capable than ? SEALS, the SAS, or Delta Force. All had been through two years of special training, making them qualified as combat swimmers, at HALO insertions, and at combat operations deep behind enemy lines. They'd been assigned to the U Feng operation because of their experience as forward air controllers, and several of them shouldered the heavy, square cases which held GLD equipment.
But their training also made them ideal for another type of mission.
'Listen up, people,' the officer in command of the unit said. Lieutenant Francis Nolan Miller spoke softly but with absolute authority. 'Team assignments stay the same. So do the operational orders. The only thing different is the initial objective. Once we have located and freed any American hostages in the target area, original mission directives are in force. Our first concern, however, is the safety of Americans being held in that camp. Questions?'
'Yeah, LT,' someone said. 'Whose screw-up was it this time?'
Miller allowed himself a tight grin. Last-minute changes to operations such as this one were detested by the troops. They never failed to make things more complicated… and more likely to go wrong. Inevitably there was always someone who didn't get the word. 'It's ours now, Wojtascek,' he said.
'It's in our laps so it's our problem. Right? Move out.'
The Marines began separating into the four-man units favored by Recon.
Miller searched the LZ until he saw a That general standing with several of his staff officers nearby. He walked up to the men and saluted. 'General Vinjit?'
'Yes, Lieutenant,' the general said in accented English. He was dressed, like the others, in camouflage fatigues. Only the star on his baseball cap showed that he was a brigade-level commander. 'Your men are ready?'
'Yes, sir. I just wanted to make sure we're straight on the plan.
You'll keep your forces back and out of sight until you hear from us.'
The general's mouth twitched impatiently. 'I and my men know our duties, Lieutenant. You see to yours.' He turned away and continued discussing the map with his staff.
'Yes, sir.' Miller returned to where his own team was waiting.
'Trouble, Lieutenant?' Gunnery Hunnicker asked.
'Nah.' He glanced back at the That officers. 'Language barrier.'
Miller had an unpleasant feeling about this last-second change in plans.
Originally, the Recon Marines were to move in close to the U Feng perimeter and serve as forward observers, first for the Hornets designated as Chickenhawk, then for the Intruders designated Thunderbird. The Marines would then step aside while Vinjit's men took the camp back from whoever had survived the air attack.
Now, though, the presence of American hostages in U Feng had changed things. The air strike was to be delayed until either the Americans were rescued, or until Lieutenant Miller reported that rescue was impossible.
Either way, the bombers would not go in until after they'd heard from the Marines.
There was so much which could go wrong. The enemy had to know that several thousand That troops were in the vicinity. If the Thais were discovered, getting those Americans out of U Feng might be impossible, and Lieutenant Miller and his men would be left dangling.
If everything went according to plan…
Of course, Miller knew better than to expect that. The only question was just what would go wrong… and when.
Hsiao knew the Thais were coming, of course. It was impossible to miss them. Their aircraft, milling about north of Chiang Mai, stood out clearly on radar, and his scouts had reported That airmobile forces gathering several kilometers to the southeast.
How best to answer the threat? Hsiao had expected the enemy to begin with a massive air strike. Once certain that the Thais were committed, he would have ordered his own interceptors airborne, sending them off to the north as if in retreat. When the RTAF pursued, they would cross the Taeng River Valley west of U Feng where he'd arrayed the majority of his hidden SAM batteries. The J-7s would then turn and fall upon the survivors. Meanwhile, his ground-attack aircraft, still based safely across the border at Mong-koi, would stoop on the ground troops, destroying their trucks, their helicopters, their weapons positions, leaving the troops easy marks for his own soldiers.
But the operation already was not going according to plan. For some reason, the That air elements had stopped short of U Feng and were circling uselessly some fifty kilometers to the south.
Did that mean they were launching a ground assault first? Possibly the That Special Forces were planning a sneak raid aimed at destroying the J-7s on the ground. That was a chilling thought. The same strategy he'd already applied against the RTAF might be turned against him.
Hsiao had heard the American adage 'Use it or lose it' and knew its meaning. The aphorism was appropriate here. He picked up a telephone.
'Get me Colonel Wu,' he said. A moment passed. 'Colonel? This is Hsiao. We are through waiting. Launch your aircraft.'
Seconds later, a siren began wailing across the compound. If the Thais did not come to him, he would go to the Thais… and Sheng li would be complete.
The first of the silver-gray Shenyang J-7s screamed into the morning sky three minutes later.
'Eagle Leader, this is Victor Four Delta.' The voice of the Hawkeye CIC officer circling over Bangkok crackled in Tombstone's ears. 'We have multiple bogies at U Feng, your bearing three-five-zero. Do you copy, over?'
'Got 'em, Mr. Magruder,' Dixie reported from the backseat. 'I make it eight bogies… correction. Make that ten bogies. Looks like they're taking off two by two.'
'Victor Four Delta, this is Eagle Leader. We have your bogies.'
'Eagle, be advised that Thunderbird is closing with bogies.
'Copy, Victor Four. We're tailing.'
The That aircraft, some sixteen of them, were already peeling out of the wheel of aircraft above Chiang Mai and streaking toward the north. Someone, Tombstone thought, should teach them some patience. Or some discipline…
But then, this was their country, invaded by an unknown enemy. Yeah, he'd be impatient too.
'Eagle Leader to Eagles,' he radioed. 'Let's go, but keep the throttles light. Follow them in.' He didn't know what those MiG drivers had planned, but it couldn't be good.
'Ninety-nine aircraft, Victor Four Delta,' the Hawkeye controller called.
'Bogies appear to be withdrawing, bearing three-three-zero. Estimate two-zero bogies, now making for the green line.'
Withdrawing? Without a fight? Tombstone considered the possibilities and grimaced beneath his helmet visor. His hours as General Hsiao's guest in Kiong Toey had taught him a thing or two about the man. He was utterly ruthless, and he was methodical. Smuggling MiGs to a captured air base, mounting a complex operation in both northern Thailand and in Bangkok…
