Chapter 1

November 7, 2013

"Jeez Mom, let me sleep longer!" Josh Warner whined as he was shaken awake. He cracked an eye open, finding only darkness. "It isn't time for school yet!"

"IT'S 0500, CORPORAL!" the tall sergeant in digital camo fatigues barked sharply, nudging the sleepy soldier with the toe of his boot.

"Sorry, Sarge," Josh responded quickly. "It's been so long since I had a good night's sleep. I forgot where I was."

"Sedro-Woolley, soldier. The attack kicks off in two hours," Sergeant Cooper answered. He added wearily, "It's been too long since any of us had a good night's sleep."

"I'll get Tyler and do a quick check of 'Homewrecker's' gun system," Josh said as he unwrapped himself from his sleeping bag.

"That's static, Corporal," the sergeant answered. "I'm going over to talk with Captain Frye at company HQ for a couple minutes. See that everything is ready in twenty."

"Will do, Sarge," Josh agreed readily as he peeled out of his sleeping bag. He shook Tyler Serna, the draftee private slumbering beside him. "Out of bed, Tyler. Sarge wants us to run diagnostics on the gun system and make sure everything is ready for this morning." Josh glanced past Tyler and saw an empty sleeping bag lying beside his friend. Zach Rice, the tank's driver, must be up and getting the big M1A1 Abrams tank ready for battle.

Josh headed outside to relieve himself. The morning was chilly, probably close to freezing, but it still felt better than it had in Canada during the cold, wet month he had spent there. That time ended abruptly two weeks ago when the Chinese broke through the I Corps line northeast of Vancouver. Josh looked east at the Cascade Mountains. The first hint of orange foretold the sun's rise. The sky was cloudless and the stars sparkled overhead. That beat the damn mist and fog he had seen further north when they held the line near Chilliwack.

Josh forced memories of the God awful retreat out of Canada and the Battle of the Border from his mind. He walked over to 'Homewrecker, ' the big M1A1 tank that was the center of his life since the war started ten months ago.

"How's our girl?" Josh asked Zach Rice as they met. Zach was checking bogey wheels and track on the left side of the tank, closest to the municipal shed where the men in their company bedded down last night.

"Everything's static, Josh," Zach reported as he ran his hand over a big gouge in the sloping front armor of the tank. A Chinese tank round had left the mark three weeks ago when the round failed to penetrate. "This is a great ride."

"That she is," Josh agreed as he climbed up on the tank and inside. Josh lit the inside of his tank with red, night vision saving light. He got to work checking the gunnery computer. He knew the routine well by now. He had completed basic training and advanced individual training at the army's armor center in Fort Benning two years ago.

Tyler Serna joined Josh in the tank turret a couple minutes later. The eighteen year old draftee watched closely as Josh ran through the gunnery system diagnostic. The Fremont, Nebraska native had been with the 'Homewrecker' crew for two and a half weeks and had a lot to learn. The army drafted Tyler two days after he graduated from high school earlier that year. He spent four months at Georgia's Fort Benning doing basic and AIT (advanced individual training) at the Armor Center.

Serna arrived at the front in Canada after Lt. Patrick Williams and Sergeant Aaron Dolan were killed by a Chinese bombing raid during night time resupply. Lt. Williams commanded 'Homewrecker' and also the First Platoon of Company C, 1st Battalion, 185th Armor. Loss of two men of the four man tank crew shook assignments up radically.

Josh switched from driving the 'Homewrecker' to being the gunner and second in command in the tank. Zach took the driver's seat, giving the new guy, Tyler Serna, the loader's job. Charlie Company's CO, Capt. Dennis Frye, assigned his company sergeant (senior enlisted man), David B. Cooper, to take command of the First Platoon. He also took Lt. Williams' place in command of 'Homewrecker.' First Sergeant Cooper was known as D. B. around the company. Sergeant Cooper's mother was horrified forty-two years ago when the hijacker, D. B. Cooper, jumped into infamy by hijacking a plane and parachuting into the Washington forests and history. She tried valiantly to keep her six month old son's name David, but the rest of the world nicknamed him D. B. The sergeant long ago accepted the nickname.

Josh liked Sergeant Cooper. He was demanding but fair. He treated the men in his platoon well and saw to their care, feeding and general welfare. Most important, he had rallied the spirits of the men after the platoon lost two of their four tanks and ten of the sixteen men in the initial fighting in Canada. That was emotionally hard in a National Guard outfit like the 41st Division's 81st Heavy Brigade Combat Team. All the members of their platoon hailed from Seattle or Olympia. Josh had trained with and known every one of those fallen comrades since he joined the guard two and a half years ago.

Josh joined up to earn a scholarship for college. His father, Robert, sold tires for a living. His mom, Laura, worked as a receptionist in a doctor's office. Josh was gifted with computers and had the grades to go to Stanford for an Information Technology degree. His family didn't have the money for tuition and Josh couldn't get enough scholarship money to swing the pricey university.

The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were winding down when he graduated from high school in 2010, so he figured it would be safe to join the National Guard. He worked for Geek Squad, fixing computers and helping people with their software while he earned enough money to get through four years at the prestigious college. Josh did his six months of active service soon after joining up at Fort Benning, Georgia at the Army's Maneuver Center (MCoE).

Josh's local armory in Olympia housed C Company, 1st Battalion, 185 Armor, so Josh ended up as a tanker even though his ASVAB (Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery) indicated he would be an excellent computer tech for the Guard. Josh did well in tanker school and got along with the other, older members of his company back in Olympia. The Guard demanded a weekend a month and two weeks each summer from their members.

Josh liked his job with Geek Squad. He'd much rather be back home in Olympia dealing with WANs, raid arrays and configuring people's hardware and software than sitting in a cold tank running diagnostics. God, how he hated the damn Chinks. They turned his comfortable world upside down ten months ago. If only it were a dream...

--oooOooo--

0615 Hours, Sedro-Woolley

Zach Rice maneuvered the Homewrecker into the end of the line of tanks departing the municipal maintenance yard where their company spent the previous night. C Company was on the tail end of the 1/185 Armor Battalion's march through Sedro-Woolley to the start line on the northwest end of town. Abrams tanks from the 1/303 Cav would follow their battalion.

Sergeant Cooper had briefed the entire platoon on the plan for the attack half an hour ago, before the big column got on the road. The 41st Division would attack due west, two brigade combat teams abreast, across the plain towards I-5 and Burlington. Their 81st Heavy BCT would take the right side of the attack. The 116th Cav BCT would attack on their left. The 41st BCT would follow in reserve, ready to assist wherever needed. The 82nd Cav Regiment would protect the flank of the attack. The 2nd Infantry Division would cross to the north side of the Skagit and be ready to reinforce the attack, if needed, or exploit the breach with an attack north to Bellingham and Deming.

Sergeant Cooper coolly talked with the other tanks in the platoon as they clanked north through the town. Josh Warner watched their progress through town on the aiming scope of his gun. Josh bit his lip nervously as they rolled forward. He had been in the thick of eight or nine battles in the past three weeks, but he still felt frightened about what was coming. He glanced over at Tyler Serna, his loader. He could see that Serna was pale and sweating, even in the red light illuminating the tank interior.

Tyler caught Josh's glance. He attempted a halfhearted smile and leaned close to Josh. "Does it always feel like you're about to shit yourself?" he whispered nervously. "I sure could use a joy stick right now."

"Huh?" Josh whispered back.

"A boom," Tyler explained. Josh gave him a blank look. "Ganja? Weed?" Josh furrowed his brow as he realized what his crewmate meant.

"You can't do pot in the army," Josh declared quietly. "The army will ship you off to someplace worse than here if they catch you lighting up."

"Worse than being in an attack at the front lines?" Tyler asked. "What's worse than here?"

"How about outside as an infantryman?" Josh replied. "I'd rather be in Homewrecker listening to bullets ping off our sides than outside cowering in the mud."

"Well ... yeah," Tyler agreed.

"Are you doing pot now?" Josh asked. "That'll get you in deep shit with the Sarge."

"No, my last time was the night before I reported for basic," Tyler responded.

"Didn't they test you for drugs when you got to basic?" Josh asked. "They washed half a dozen guys out for drug use when I did basic."

"They don't anymore," Tyler explained. "They're drafting guys now. If doing some weed could get you out of the army, they wouldn't be able to keep any draftees. They did find out about me doing weed. I had to do a lame-ass drug awareness lecture and get tested every week during basic."

"Keep the drug shit out of here," Josh cautioned. "Sarge will have a fit if he hears about you doing that stuff."

"I know," Tyler agreed. "I won't do it. I came through the so called 'Battle of the Border' and it was ... well, nothing. We never even saw any Chinese. I can't help wondering ... you know, what it's going to..." Josh was quiet for about five seconds. "It's just ... well ... all of this..."

"Scares the hell out of you," Josh said, completing Tyler's sentence. "I understand. I've been in action a dozen times in the past three weeks. It scares the hell out of me too. Don't worry. Sarge is a good commander. He'll spot the right targets for us. You keep feeding me shells and I'll blow the sons-of-bitches to hell. We WILL come through this OK."

The two sat quietly as their tank rattled north through Sedro-Woolley. D. B. Cooper had overheard most of the whispered conversation between his subordinates. Tyler's past drug use wasn't a surprise to him. He got a head's up from the S1 at the BCT to keep an eye on Tyler. Watching out for draftees with a past history of drug use was now SOP [standard operating procedure] for the army.

D. B. thought Josh handled Tyler's past drug use and worries about how he'd perform in battle well. D. B. was pleased to find the young corporal was turning into a quality soldier. They formed a bond the afternoon and night they spent helping hold off the Chinese breakthrough of the Chilliwack line. The two had worked without a loader, both helping with the task as their other duties allowed. Josh had an eye for gunnery too. He had taken out at least a dozen tanks that night. D. B. had seen instructors at Maneuver Center that didn't shoot as well as his gunner.

The column turned left onto the Cook Road out of Sedro-Woolley and headed for their start line. About two hundred yards west of the townhouse development that marked the extent of Sedro-Woolley, they followed their battalion due north to form up. The Abrams from the 1/303 Cav from their BCT were forming up on the south side of Cook Road.

The ground rumbled at 0650 hours, as the nine 155 mm batteries tasked with supporting the attack opened up on the Chinese infantry line a mile distant from the start line. Lt. Colonel Owen's "Move out!" crackled across the radio network ten minutes later. Zach Rice put Homewrecker into gear and rolled forward, maintaining alignment with the other tanks in C Company.

Josh turned back from his station, patted Tyler on the shoulder and gave him a thumbs-up. "You keep feeding me shells. We'll come out of this just fine." Tyler acknowledged the encouragement with a nauseated half smile and a nod.

The 140 Abrams rolled across the plain. D. B. Cooper swiveled his command turret aft and saw the Bradleys of his BCT and Strykers of the 116th Cav following behind the tanks, carrying their infantry support. The long line of tanks churned forward across the fields for a couple minutes, not drawing any reaction from the Chinese troops they were approaching.

"Maya Alpha-6, I have Tangoes on the hill north of me," Maya Alpha-5 reported. Maya Alpha-6 was the call sign for Alpha Company's commander. Tangoes referred to the NATO phonetics letter "T", designating targets. Maya Alpha-5 was on the far right of the 1/185 Armor's line of tanks.

"Maya Alpha-5, ident[ify] Tangoes," Capt. Frye asked. "Make sure it isn't the Cowboys [82nd Cav Regiment].

"Gook BMPs," Maya Alpha-5 answered. "Must be twenty plus."

"Roger. Vanilla or..." Maya Alpha-6 queried. The Alpha company commander wanted to know if they were the standard infantry fighting vehicles carrying 10 Chinese troopers or one of many variants armed with guns, rockets or anti-tank missiles. The answer came in a rush, but not from Maya Alpha-5.

Josh Warner found the answer too as a searing light streaked across his night vision gunnery screen. Zach Rice saw it too, out his vision slot. "Fuck!" Zach growled over the local comm channel. "Fucking missiles."

Sgt. Cooper spun his command turret around to spot the new threat. He was in time to see three American tanks explode to his north.

Multiple heat blooms blossomed in Josh's scope. "Sarge!" Josh announced. "We got ZHZ99s in front of us. Multiple incoming rounds..." Josh knew the heat signature of the Chinese main battle tanks by now.

"Here's Tango-1, tank," Sgt. Cooper announced as he swung his turret back to face the threat to their front. The target cursor appeared over one of the Chinese tanks, only its turret visible on Josh's screen. The enemy tanks must be hull down.

"We got canister in the tube, Sarge," Josh warned. The 120mm shell contained 1,100 3/8" diameter tungsten balls. It was deadly to infantry within 2,000 feet but would have no effect on armor at more than three times that range.

"FIRE!" Sgt. Cooper growled.

"Identified, 2,342 mikes," Josh announced as he locked his aiming reticle on the target Sarge indicated and adding that the targeted tank was 2,342 meters away.

"Up," Tyler confirmed. It was the loader's job to confirm that a round was in the chamber.

"On the way!" Josh said a split second later. He understood the Sarge now. It was faster to waste the canister round than to unload the round and replace it with the proper round. Josh pressed the fire button a split second later. The Homewrecker shuddered as the big cannon blasted a canister round towards the enemy.

"Tank, sabot, Serna," Sgt. Cooper ordered. This round was meant to kill tanks. Tyler manhandled the 49 pound round into the breach of their cannon.

"Identified, 2,328 mikes," Josh announced as he prepared to fire at Tango-1, the Chinese ZHZ99 tank in front of them.

"Fire!" Sgt. Cooper announced.

"On the way!" Josh pressed the button. The gun barked as it shot out the depleted uranium projectile. The sabot peeled off the uranium bolt as the projectile left the cannon. The bolt needed about a second and a half to travel across the valley. The small dense bolt punched through the thick armor of the Chinese tank, flaking and spalling slivers of metal and sending them throughout the crew section of the tank interior. The Chinese crewmen were sliced to pieces with barely time to realize they were hit.

Josh and Sgt. Cooper both saw the satisfying puff of smoke waft from the turret hatches as the round hit home.

"Cease fire," Sgt. Cooper announced before he placed his targeting reticule on another Chinese tank. "Tango-2, tank, sabot."

DDddooonnnnGGGG! The Homewrecker shuddered when a Chinese round plowed into the Chobham armor of the big M1A1. Josh glanced back at Tyler. The young man's eyes were the size of saucers. "That's the good sound," Josh mouthed to his crewmate. "Our armor held." Josh turned back to his gunnery computer. "Identified, 2,277 mikes to Tango-2."

"Fire!"

"On the way!" Josh pressed the button, sending another depleted uranium bolt at the Chinese. A second and a half later he watched the explosion as his shot hit home.

"Cease fire," Sgt. Cooper announced mechanically. "Tango-3, tank, sabot." Josh was zeroing in on the new target when their tank was rocked by a large and very close explosion. Sgt. Cooper wheeled to find Red-12 (call sign on the platoon radio net – it was also known as Maya-Charlie-12 on the battalion command net), the tank that joined their platoon two days ago, with smoke pouring out of the popped open hatches. Cooper watched as a blackened crewman tried to crawl out, only to slump over, half in and half out of the tank.

"Identified, 2,253 mikes to Tango-3," Josh announced.

"Fire!"

"On the way!" Josh answered as he hit the button. This time he didn't see the satisfying explosion of a dead Chinese tank. "2,231 mikes to Tango-3."

Sgt. Cooper didn't get time to answer. The whole crew heard the whoosh followed by the Baa-wumpf of an explosion on the back of their tank. Homewrecker rocked as the missile hit.

"Red-16, this is Red-13, over," a voiced announced of the platoon radio link. Re-d3 was the call sign for the third tank in Sgt. Cooper's 1st Platoon.

"Go ahead, Red-13," Sgt. Cooper announced. Josh and Tyler looked around their compartment. The halon fire suppression system hadn't activated. The tank hadn't been penetrated.

"You took a chink missile in the back of the turret," Red-13 reported. "Pretty big fire on your rear deck and back of your turret. Looks like your personals are going up in smoke." Abrams crews stored their sleeping bags and pads, as well as their personal gear in bins on the back of the turret, outside the armor.

"Take out Tango-3," Sgt. Cooper commanded. "Serna, give me the extinguisher."

"On the way!" Josh said as he pressed the button. "Are you sure you want to pop the hatch? It's pretty unfriendly out there."

"That fire is a big spotlight on our tank," Sgt. Cooper explained. "We've got to get it out or we'll attract the attention of every Chinese tank from here to Bellingham."

Tango-3 blew up in a spectacular fireball as Sgt. Cooper popped the commander's hatch open. Josh smelled the smoke from the fire outside. The Chinese ZHZ99's turret must have flown 50 feet in the air before crashing back down. Most likely their shot touched off the propellant in a Chinese shell.

"I've got Tango-4," Josh announced. "Tank, sabot." He knew Sgt. Cooper would want him to keep up the fire on the Chinese while the Sarge was busy putting out the fire. It was how they worked three weeks ago during the eighteen hour fight to plug the breach in the Chilliwack line. "Identified, 2,199 mikes to Tango-4. Sarge, get in. I'm ready to fire." No answer. "Sarge?"

Josh glanced back at his sergeant. Instead of standing on a rung of the ladder where he could get his head and torso outside, the sergeant's boots were on the compartment deck. His knees were buckled. Josh looked up and saw a red stain spreading down the front of his sergeant's camos.

"Tyler!" Josh barked, trying to hide his own panic. "Check the Sarge!" His intonation managed to convey his urgency to Tyler. Tyler maneuvered around to the command position.

"He ain't got no head!" Tyler wailed when he managed to get to Sgt. Cooper.

"Stay inside!" Josh ordered. "I'm firing." He rechecked the range. "2,168 mikes ... On the way!" Their cannon boomed as another bolt of depleted uranium flew across the fields to the Chinese. Josh stayed with his scope long enough to see Tango-4 disappear in a cloud of smoke.

Josh squeezed around to get to see the sergeant's condition himself. It looked like Cooper's head had taken a direct hit from the Chinese 125mm shell. Little remained of his commander above the neck. "Push Sarge's body onto the turret top," Josh commanded. "We don't have room for him in here." Josh didn't add that he knew Tyler would freeze up if he had to share the compartment with the headless corpse of their sergeant.

Josh flicked the comm switch to put himself on the platoon link. "Red-13, this is Red-11, over."

"Go ahead Red-11," Red-13 responded.

"Sarge is dead," Josh reported, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. He really wanted to scream, but it wouldn't do anyone any good.

"You sure, Red-11?" Sgt. Holder, the commander of Red-13 and now the senior sergeant in their platoon.

"He took a 125 (125mm shell) in the head," Josh answered. "Yeah ... I'm sure."

"Red-13 is now Red-16," Sgt. Holder reported over the platoon net. This confirmed that he was assuming command of the 1st platoon.

"Red-11, can you keep your unit in action?" Sgt. Holder asked Josh. "We need everybody."

"Is the fire out on our back deck?" Josh asked.

"It is, Red-11," Sgt. Holder responded.

"We're good to go then," Josh answered.

"Continue in line with the rest of the platoon," Sgt. Holder instructed. "Aztecs are taking care of the chink BMPs. Fire at will at the Tangoes in front."

"Wilco [Will comply]. Out," Josh answered into the radio. He switched back to the internal comm. "Did you get Sarge stowed up top, Tyler?"

"Yeah," Tyler answered shakily. "I got the body up top."

"Body?" Zach interjected. "What happened?"

"Sarge took a round in the head," Josh explained. "Keep in line with the rest of our platoon and continue forward."

"You got it, Josh," Zach agreed.

He scanned his gunnery screen for his next target. "Tango-5, tank, sabot!," Josh ordered. "Identified, 2,017 mikes," he called out automatically, as he was trained to do. No one was paying attention to the firing data anymore. "On the way!" The round hit home, blowing up another Chinese tank.

Josh switched over to the platoon comm link, so he could hear any orders Sgt. Holder might give. Sgt. Holder was temporarily in command of the 1st Platoon again, now that Sgt. Cooper was dead. Josh got the gist of what was happening off to his right. The Chinese missile BMPs had shot up and put most of Alpha Company (Aztecs) out of commission. Lt. Colonel Owens ordered Bravo Company to deal with the threat.

Josh took a shot at another Chinese tank. He didn't achieve the satisfying explosion but the tank ceased firing at the Americans. A second shot produced a cloud of smoke, indicating a clean kill. Josh was lining up a shot on Tango-7 when a loud Ka-CHUNK rattled the Homewrecker. The tank immediately lurched left and spun around on its left track.

"Back the right track immediately!" Josh yelled. "Get us facing the enemy again, Zach!" The Abrams' front armor could stop Chinese 125mm shells from penetrating at 2,000 meter range. The side armor wasn't as thick and could be vulnerable to hits there.

Zach managed to point the Homewrecker generally toward the west and the Chinese tanks that had been firing on them since the start of the battle.

"Red-16, this is Red-11," Josh announced into the platoon comm link. The only answer he received was a tremendous explosion off to his right that shook and rattled the Homewrecker.

"Holy shit!" someone squawked on the link. "Red-13 just took a gook missile in the ass."

"Josh, I ain't got nothing on the left track," Zach interjected.

"ID yourself, soldier," a voice demanded. Josh recognized it was Capt. Frye. "Maintain radio discipline. Who is this and what is the status of Maya Charlie-13?"

"Hernandez from Red-14, sir," Sgt. Hernandez of Red-14 reported. "Red-16 is burning like a Roman candle. The crew's KIA, sir." Josh recognized the voice of Staff Sgt. Luis Hernandez. He had been in this Guard unit for half a year, after completing his five year, active duty tour. Luis chose to join the Guard so he could enjoy the camaraderie of a unit rather than serve his remaining time in the Army Reserve. Josh and Luis had gotten to be friends in the past six months.

"You command 1st Platoon now, Red-14," Capt. Frye instructed. "What's the status of Red-11?"

"We took a hit in the left track or boogie wheel, sir," Josh responded. "We're immobilized but we can keep shooting at the Chinese."

"Good for you, soldier," Capt. Frye said. "Give us covering fire. Red-16, guide on Red-25 to your right. Conform to 2nd Platoon's actions."

"Wilco, sir," Josh responded. Luis Hernandez from Red-16 responded affirmatively too.

"Take the gunner's seat, Tyler," Josh instructed. "I need to get in the cupola and see what the hell is going on around us."

"Me?" Tyler squeaked.

"Get a grip!" Josh commanded. "Load a sabot round in the gun and get in the gunner's seat. I'll find us a good target." Tyler didn't answer but did take the gunner's seat.

Josh noted the blood coating the area around the top of command cupola. He forced down the bile trying to rise in his throat. There wasn't time now to mourn Sgt. Cooper. He needed to pull himself together and help Zach and Tyler survive.

A quick scan to his left and right showed way too many plumes of dark, inky smoke rising from the carcasses of dead American tanks. A few crewmen who made it out alive were retreating away towards town. Some of his battalion and some of the tanks from the 1/303 Cav continued advancing west. Josh forced himself to look west towards the Chinese. He found a target and placed his targeting reticule on it before announcing "Tango-8."

"Um ... Uh..." Tyler murmured.

"Pull it together," Josh demanded. "This is just like in training, Tyler."

"I ... dentified... 20 ... uh... 91 meters," Tyler managed. "Mikes ... I mean mikes." Josh felt the turret swing around as Tyler put the aiming reticule on the target. The cannon elevated slightly too.

"Fire!" Josh commanded.

"On the way!" Tyler announced. The big 120mm cannon belched and sent another depleted uranium bolt towards the Chinese.

Josh noted with satisfaction as the turret blew off the top of the tank he had targeted. "Good job, Tyler."

"I got the mother-fucker!" Tyler chortled. "I got the bastards!"

"Tango-9, tank, sabot" Josh announced, placing his targeting reticule on another Chinese ZHZ99 tank.

"Identified, 2,115 mikes," Tyler announced.

"Fire," Josh ordered.

"On the way!" The cannon boomed and sent another bolt at the Chinese. Josh didn't get to see the results of the shot. The tank they targeted belched fire and smoke. Josh swore he could see the shell coming directly at them. He flinched instinctively, even though it would give him no protection. He was dead if the shot hit his command cupola. If it hit in front or in the turret, they were safe.

DdddoooonnnnggGGG reverberated through the crew compartment. Josh looked out to find that the shell hit neither hull nor turret. Their cannon barrel was indented and the last four feet was bent down at a weird angle. The cannon tube had taken the hit for them.

"We're out of commission, guys," Josh announced. "That one bent the cannon tube." Tyler had another shell in his arms, ready to place it in their cannon. "Stow that shell back in the ammo hold and seal it up. We're not firing anymore until they get us a new track and a new tube."

"Red-16, this is Red-11," Josh announced on the command comm link.

"Go ahead, Red-11," Sgt. Hernandez responded.

"Good hunting, guys," Josh said. "Red-11 took a hit in the cannon tube. It's bent to hell. We're going to have to sit this one out."

"Roger that, Red-11," Sgt. Hernandez responded. "Hang loose and wait for tank recovery to come and get you."

"Wilco," Josh answered.

"What now, Josh?" Tyler asked. "Do we take a walk back to town or stay here?"

"I think we stay inside our tank," Josh answered. "We're too far away for the Chinese tanks to take us out. Zach, how about you lay down some smoke for us?"

"You got it," Zach agreed.

"Smoke?" Tyler asked.

"I want us to blend in with all the dead tanks," Josh explained. "Homewrecker's taken enough hits for the day. I want the Chinese to ignore us."

"Makes sense," Tyler agreed.

Josh scanned the horizon again. He noted with satisfaction that the tank that put their cannon out of commission was dead. Their turret was upside down beside the smoking tank body. He continued swinging his cupola around to the northwest. He could see a thin line of Abrams tanks a few hundred meters ahead, continuing the advance on the Chinese lines. He scanned further north. He saw maybe half a dozen Bravo Company (Inca) tanks engaging the Chinese BMPs firing missiles at their battalion. He couldn't pick out more than two runners among the Alpha Company tanks closest to the Chinese hill. Some of the Bradleys from the 1/161 Infantry were burning too.

Chapter 2 »