Author: admin

79th Infantry Brigade Combat Team (California National Guard)

Temecula, CA

They set their ambush where I-15 crossed over Rainbow Valley Boulevard.  The 15 crossed over the surface street via a large cement bridge.  Once the bridge was blown, the Chinese armor units would be forced to take the much smaller Old Highway 395.  The old highway was only two lanes wide and had a large bluff on the right side.  Perfect for hiding missile teams and their vulnerable HMMWVs.  As a guard unit, the 79^th, was most commonly involved in civil disturbance or disaster relief work.  They were not armed with tanks or armored infantry fighting vehicles.  They had plenty of TOW missiles, however.  The venerable missile had been liberally deployed into guard units and the 79^th had a dedicated anti-armor company.

“Bear One One, Bear Two Two.”

Colonel Banguey picked up a tactical radio.  “Go for Bear One One.”

“Sir, we have multiple Chinese tanks coming up the 15.  I count twenty so far.  Looks like a full battalion, support vehicles, the works.”

“Copy.  Are they moving into civilian areas at all?”

“No sir.  They seem to be securing the freeway as they go.  IFVs blocking all the onramps and offramps as they go.”

“Copy, keep me posted.”  The entire area was devoid of civilian traffic anyway.  The army had ordered all civilians to evacuate north two days before which had caused a massive traffic jam.  It had taken almost two days to get the majority of civilians clear.  There were plenty of civilans trapped behind enemy lines in San Diego.  Banguey had no idea where his own family was.  Something he made an effort not to think about.

“Roger that.”

Banguey turned to the soldiers behind him.  “Launch two switchblades.”  The Switchblade 300 had entered service very late in the Afghanistan conflict and had quickly proven to be a soldier’s best friend.  The “loitering munition” allowed a single soldier to launch a weapon that could surveil a target, attack it or abort the attack if there were friendlies in the area.  While the 300 series the 79^th was carrying wouldn’t take out a tank, it would easily destroy a lightly-armored vehicle like a SAM launcher or radar.  The plan was to use the drones to scout out the Chinese armor column and then attack the radars supporting their SAMs.  Ideally, this would make the air support they expected more effective.

“Any word on air support?”

“Working on it, sir.  They are currently engaged supporting the 221^st up in Palm Springs right now.”

“Dammit, where are the regulars?  Are we going to fight this war completely on our own?”

There was no answer to this question.

With an angry shake of his head, he looked over the operator screen from one of the Switchblades.  The Chinese forces were coming close to the bridge they had wired with explosives.  “Bear Three Two, Bear One One.”

“Go for Bear Three Two.”

“Blow the bridge on my mark.”

“Ready.”

Banguey waited.  He let the scouts pass across.  There were three tanks approaching the bridge.  Wait for it.  Wait.  “NOW.”

“Fire in the hole!”

The rumbling BOOM of the explosion reached his position a few seconds later.  The screen just showed a cloud of dust for a few seconds.  When it cleared, he could see two tanks inside the hole where the bridge had been.  Another was sitting flipped over on the freeway.  “Good effect.  Retreat to your fallback.”

“Bear Three Two, moving.”

Watching the Chinese react to the ambush was impressive.  They quickly assessed the situation, deployed troops to check for more explosives and established an alternate route via Old Highway 395 within ten minutes.  All during this exercise, the troops of the 79^th stayed hidden in their prepared positions.  The goal was to slow them down.  There was no way that the 79^th would win a straight up fight, but they could slow them down to a crawl and that’s what Banguey intended to do.

Several Chinese IFVs joined up and led the column down the old highway.  “Bear Three Three, Bear One One.”

“Go for Bear Three Three.”

“Coming your way.  Shoot and scoot.”

“Yes, sir.  Shooting and scooting.”

The HMMWV-mounted TOW weapons streaked down onto the column which had been forced into a narrow line due to the steep bluff beside the highway.  Fifteen missiles were fired in the initial barrage.  Twelve of them hit their targets.  Most of the crews made it to their fallback position safely.  The Chinese tanks instantly opened fire on the hillside where the missile crews had been stationed.  The hillside erupted in gouts of rock, soil, dirt and smoke which billowed into the blue California sky.

Again, the Chinese column stopped.  Again, the Americans waited under cover.  Ironically, almost every member of the brigade had been on the other side of asymmetric warfare like this.  They had been sniped at, blown up and otherwise harassed in Afghanistan and some had even served in Iraq.  The insurgents mostly used IEDs, not guided missiles, but the concept was the same.  They hadn’t intended to learn these tactics for themselves, but they knew exactly what a small force could do to slow down larger force.  They were using these hard-won lessons now.

Banguey turned to Command Sergeant Major Selston.  “Any word on getting a JTAC up here?”  Joint Terminal Attack Controller (JTAC) was the term the US military used for ground controllers who were trained to call in air strikes. 

“No sir, no joy with command.  Comms are still fouled up, no SatCom at all.”

Banguey watched the overhead imagery as the Chinese once again got organized.  He picked up a tactical radio.  “Moke Two One, Bear One One – Fire mission, grid four six one seven, anti-tank mines in advance of column.  Direction one nine zero zero.”

The tinny voice of the artillery battery came back over the radio.  “Moke Two One copies.  Fire mission, anti-tank mines.”

A few moments passed.  “Shot out.”

Everyone in the hastily assembled command bunker heard the ripping linen sound of 155mm rounds passing overhead.  “Splash.”

“Rounds on target, end of mission.”

“End of mission, out.”

While not commonly used by the US Army, artillery-dispersed mines are one of the most effective ways to slow down an advancing armor column.  The mines were deadly to any tracked vehicle and could not be simply ignored by the oncoming troops.  They could be cleared, but that took time.

Banguey returned to the radio.  “Bear Four One, Bear One One.”

“Go for Bear Four One.”

“Say status.”

“I have sixty, say again six zero, armored units visible from my position.  I have good overwatch and I am ready to illuminate.”

“Confirm six zero.  Commence illumination.  Hit the lead tanks of the formation, slow them down.”

“Target illuminated.”

While the 79^th didn’t have many of them, it did have a supply of M712 Copperhead guided munitions.  Using a laser designator, the troops stationed above Banguey illuminated specific vehicles to give these specialized shells a very precise fix on their targets.

“Moke Two One, Bear One One – Fire mission, grid four six two eight, Copperhead strike on tracked vehicles.  Direction one nine zero zero.”

“Moke Two One copies.  Fire mission, copperhead, target tracked vehicles.”

And so it went.  Several tanks exploded as the Copperhead rounds penetrated the thin armor on their turrets and cooked off the ammunition inside.  Banguey was feeling pretty good about his position until the aircraft arrived.  “INCOMING!! DOWN! DOWN! DOWN!”

144th Fighter Wing (California Air National Guard)

Flight Level 40, Cajon Pass, CA

After finally breaking radar lock from the Chinese SAMs, Colonel Paulson was beginning to relax a little when he heard the urgent calls for support from the 79^th Brigade.  He consulted the map strapped to his thigh.  That’s only fifty miles away.  He looked to his right, his wingman was right there where he was supposed to be as Paulson led the wing down through the narrow Cajon pass.  The top of the pass was about 3,700 feet.  Their current altitude of 4,000 feet was only three hundred feet from the rapidly rising I-15 as it passed through the San Bernadino mountains.  It was only the relatively mountainous terrain that had saved them from the Chinese SAMs still lurking just to the south and west.  He was headed away from the 79^th.  That would be quickly remedied.

“Phat One One to wing.  New target, we have troops in contact, Grid Two Six Five.  Spread four formation.  Pick your targets until you are Winchester, then RTB.”

The quick radio call was a risk, but he had no other way to inform the wing about his plans.  With a gesture to his wingman, he flipped his F-15C straight up and punched the burners again.   Continuing to pull back on the stick, he did a full 180 vertically and then flipped the plane over again with a quick aileron roll.  As he gained altitude, his radar showed him the contacts.  From their radar signature, they looked like J-10s which were similar to the USAF F-16 and had a similar job.

He targeted the closest two and squeezed off his last two AIM-120D missiles.  He didn’t have time to admire the flight of the missiles because his threat receivers started going nuts.  radar transmitters were going on all over the I-10 and I-15 corridors.  One had locked onto him.  “SAM SAM SAM.  SAM LAUNCH, six o’clock.”

He swore to himself and once again dived for the safety of the narrow mountain canyons.  His wingman wasn’t so lucky.

221st Cavalry Regiment (Nevada National Guard)

Cabazon, CA

Lieutenant Colonel Aliston studied the maps intently.  He was in a relatively good defensive position here, but also extremely exposed with essentially no backup available to him and no reloads.  He had plenty of fuel thanks to the multiple truck stops along I-10 in the area.  He had taken the simple expedient of ordering all diesel pumps shut down and had declared martial law to enforce the order.  They had fuel to spare.  They also had the entire command team set up inside the massive parking structure of the Morongo Casino, hiding them from aerial surveillance.  The casino was completely empty of civilians.  Aliston’s first act had been to declare martial law and close down all civilian businesses in the area.  So, they had a secure base and civilians were out of immediate danger.  What they didn’t have was air cover.

“Sir, I have the 144^th on the horn.”

Finally.  “Wildhorse, actual”

“Phat, actual.”

“Phat, I need overhead, and I need it quick.”

“Sir, we moved to F-15 Charlies last year.”

“Dammit, we are about to be in a world of hurt down here.”

“Understood, we have one squadron of F-16s down at March, we will get them spooled up for you but we’ve also got the 79^th down on I-15 asking for help also.”

“Don’t we have an Air Battle Manager assigned?”

“Not yet.”

“Kick your command in the ass, son.  We are going to have troops dying here.”

“Yes, sir.”

The chaos caused by the meltdown of US military communications satellites and related systems was going from serious to deadly.  Without the ability to coordinate their forces, there was no way to fight a combined arms engagement.  Each unit was functionally operating on their own, which was not how they were supposed to fight.  The US military fought as a unit, each team supporting every other team.  A calvary regiment like this one wasn’t supposed to be able to defend itself from airborne threats.  It relied on the Air Force to do that.

“Ziffren!  Do we have those scouts in place?”

“Yes sir, I have a squad up on top of San Jacinto.  They took the tram up.  I told them to keep the cars locked down, so they don’t get visitors.”

“Good thinking.  I want regular reports.”

“Yes, sir.”

Walking over to where the HMMWVs were kept, he signaled to his driver.  “Take me down to the defensive line, I want to see those revetments.”  Unlike his time in Afghanistan, there were plenty of locals who were willing to help.  When the call had gone out for earth-moving equipment, two dozen front-end loaders had shown up in less than an hour. One from a guy purporting to run a local dinosaur museum. Aliston had spotted a hand-painted sign on the side of the freeway reading “ROBOTDINOSAURMUSEUM” in red lettering with no spaces. The dinosaur guy and the other volunteers had spent the entire day moving sand around the desert.  Each of the eighteen tanks under his command had four different protected revetments dug out on areas of higher ground.  This would allow them to command the entire twenty kilometers of the pass.  Until the ammunition ran out.  Aliston didn’t think much past that.  He knew what “at all costs” orders meant.  Even when out of ammunition, the tanks would not retreat.  His entire unit would die to the last man, if needed.  Enough of that—work to do.  He chose to think about I Corps and the wealth of ammunition and reinforcements that they would bring.

It took him several hours, but he was eventually able to inspect each M1 team and most of the Bradleys.  The plan was to place the M1s out front with the Bradleys behind providing missile support from relatively long range.  The M1s could survive close contact with the enemy so they would be in the fore.  Bradleys would be sniping.  While the 120mm L4 smoothbore on the M1 had about the same two-mile range as the TOW missile on the Bradley, the TOW was a guided weapon and tended to be more accurate at long range.  Within 2,000 yards, the M1 firing M829A4 armor-piercing fin-stabilized discarding sabot (APFSDS) rounds was deadly even against the most modern tank.  The Javelin missile teams in the hills would hold off to avoid giving away their position until the situation was dire enough to merit their support.  Although their range was only about four kilometers, the varied terrain allowed him to spread the teams out and get very good coverage.  They would also be attacking from above which gave them another advantage.

Taking the elevator up to the top of the Morongo Casino Tower, he worried about artillery.  He would be a sitting duck on top of the astoundingly ugly casino tower but it was literally the tallest thing for miles around.  Without overhead imagery, he needed to see what was going on and the top of the tower was his best bet.  Walking out onto the roof, he felt amazingly exposed.  Nothing for it.  He carefully scanned the positions he could see from here.  None of the vehicles were visible.  All of them had been carefully concealed from overhead surveillance.  They had seen several drones flying around and had assumed they must be enemy surveillance drones.

The tactical radio crackled.  “Enemy armor sighted.  Moving up I-10.  Type 96 tanks, type 4 IFVs, assorted support vehicles.  Estimate brigade strength.  Light scouting elements ahead of the main column about a mile.”

“Are they detouring into the populated areas at all?”

“No sir, they look to be securing the freeway.  I see IFVs at each onramp, blocking access.”  There was a pause.  “They look more like MPs than troops, sir.  Personal weapons, machine gun on the IFV.  No missile tubes I can see.”

“And the main column?”

“Packing heavy.  At least fifty tanks and as many IFVs.  Looks like two companies of artillery, they look like those French CESARs, so PLC-181s?”  The Chinese had been phasing out towed artillery in favor of self-propelled guns like the PLC-181 which was a 155mm self-propelled gun.  Bad news for the defending Americans.

“All teams, plan Bravo.  Say again Bravo.  ROE Alpha in effect.”

Aliston let them come ahead.  The Americans were hugely outnumbered.  The longer they could avoid a Chinese artillery barrage, the better.  So, he waited.  And waited.  After he had plenty of time to consider all the bad life choices that had led him to this point, he finally saw the first scouts coming down I-10.  “Enemy in sight.  Hold fire.”  Still, he waited.  They had carefully plotted their optimal ranges from each pre-set firing position.  The mobile artillery units were in the middle of the column.  He wasn’t going to get them all, but he wanted the first barrage to take out as many of the mobile guns as possible.  Artillery was still king of the battlefield.  Those guns needed to be taken out or this battle would be short and bloody.  “On my mark, target the mobile guns.”  Just a few more seconds.  Now.  “Alpha, open fire.”

Even though he was over a mile away from the nearest M1, he could see and hear the mighty 120-millimeter cannons opening up.  Huge tongues of flame shot from each tank as one by one the computer targeting system calculated the precise firing angle.  Firing at soft targets like mobile guns, they were using High Explosive (HE) rounds.  Each one made an impressive explosion and another wave of sound as they hit their targets.  Within a minute, the Chinese tanks were firing back, mostly striking the berms the M1s were hiding behind, but several shots ricocheted off of the thick Chobham frontal armor of the tough American tanks.  “Bravo, engage those tanks.”  At this command, the Bradleys started volleying off their TOW missiles.  Each one would “shoot and scoot”, knowing that Chinese counter-battery fire was sure to come.  Within seconds, the Chinese tanks started taking losses.  Then the Chinese missile carrying IFVs engaged.  Missiles criss-crossed the small valley turning the desert into a killing ground.  The Chinese were taking losses, but not enough to stop them.  The lead elements were coming dangerously close to the prepared positions of the M1s.

“Alpha, shift to alternate revetments.”  With that, the sixteen surviving M1 tanks reversed hard and moved to their backup position.  The turbine-powered M1 could move astoundingly fast for such a large vehicle.  One of the tanks was caught between positions and hit with a round fired from one of the lead Chinese tanks.  “Charley company, open fire.”

Finally, the Javelin teams hidden on the hillsides started to fire.  Again, they had carefully sighted their positions and only fired on units within 2,000 meters of the lead M1 positions.  Within 30 seconds, there were no operational Chinese vehicles in that kill zone. Just when Aliston felt like he might survive the engagement, the call he had been dreading came in.  “Choppers!  Enemy helos coming up the valley.”

“All units, shift your positions and take cover.  Enemy air coming in.”  He turned to the two stinger-equipped soldiers behind him.  They only had a dozen missiles total.  “Make those shots count.”

With a deep booming stutter, the six Chinese Z-10 helicopters came around from behind San Jacinto mountain and made their way towards the Americans.  “Hold your fire.  Wait until you have a clean shot.”  He held his hand up.  “Wait…..  wait…  FIRE!”  With a high-pitched whooshing sound the two missiles streaked out, towards the enemy helicopters.  One missile hit, one missed.  As the soldiers hurriedly reloaded, the helicopters turned towards the tower, tilting forward to maximize their speed.  “They’ve seen us!”  Both two-man teams prepared another launcher, the lead shooter for each taking aim.  A pregnant moment passed as the launchers acquired.  With another whoosh, two more missiles streaked out, each striking a helicopter.

By then, the building was in range of the remaining three helicopters.  Two helicopters fired two missiles each at the rooftop.  “INCOMING!  DOWN!  DOWN!  DOWN!”

144th Fighter Wing (California Air National Guard)

Flight Level 30, Redlands, CA

Colonel Paulson listened with growing concern to the ever more urgent calls from the 221^st.  The last two days had been nothing but frustration for him and the other members of the wing.  With communications fractured and normal procedures not working, the wing was largely on their own.  This was not how they were supposed to fight.  They were supposed to be tightly integrated into a larger joint command with a specific officer assigned to direct the overall air battle.  In the chaos after the space-based bombardment and the jamming still affecting communications, normal procedures had been thrown out the window.  He had talked directly to the commander of the 221^st and had decided on his own to commit his wing to support the beleaguered defenders.

Unfortunately, what they really needed was a Wild Weasel mission and none of his aircraft were currently configured for that mission.  His F-15C could detect the enemy radars searching for his wing just across a line of hills from his current position.  He was only at 3,000 feet but he planned to go much lower.  Ground level here was about 1,300 feet.  As he got lower, the altimeter wouldn’t matter.  He would see the rock that killed him just before impact.

The plan was for the squadron of F-15Cs he was leading to come in low and fast, take out any aircraft in the area and then allow the F-16s following to do a ground-attack run.  They were equipped with cluster bombs and only limited IR guided air to air missiles.  Of course, that meant that the F-15s would be completely exposed to any SAM fire that managed to target them in the short time they would be over the target.  Paulson reached down and armed his six AIM-120D missiles.  Looking over, he gave his wingman a thumbs up which was returned.  No radio traffic helped increase the odds that they would arrive without prior notice to the Chinese.

Pushing his throttles to the stops, he engaged the afterburners and pushed the stick down.  In seconds he passed Mach 1, flying at 200 feet Above Ground Level (AGL) over I-10.  Easing the stick back slightly, he crested the Yucaipa Grade at less than 50 feet—he could read the road sign indicating the exit for Yucaipa boulevard.  He was completely focused on the task.  Any slight mistake on his part would be instantly fatal.  This kind of low and fast approach was normally an attack-aircraft pattern, but they all practiced low-level tactics at places like Jedi Transition out in the desert of California.

Screaming over Cherry Valley at over 900 miles an hour, he quickly came up on the final rolling green hill masking him from the Chinese division.  Reefing his fighter into a punishing 9G turn, he grunted with effort as he turned again to parallel I-10.  He could easily see the casino that the 221^st was using as a command post.  It was a gigantic ugly spire in the middle of nowhere.  Just as the building came into view, he saw several explosions rip the top of the building off.  “Shit!”  Just as quickly, his radar detected aircraft just beyond the building.  He quickly rippled off two AIM-120Ds and he could see from the corner of his eye his wingman do the same.  They had no time to set up a proper attack, they were coming in way too hot.  Exactly what he had been trained not to do under any circumstances.  Before he could take stock of the situation he was past the casino, flying below the top of the building.  Coming out of his turn, he could look down Coachella Valley towards Palm Springs.  He could easily see Chinese tanks rolling down I-10, but there was nothing he could do about that.

Suddenly, his radar threat receiver went off, a dire tone that told him he was in extreme danger.  Down on the deck like this, he had very little room to maneuver so he chose to just head straight towards the radar.  Close the distance fast, before they can react.  Almost as an afterthought he fired off a couple hundred rounds from his onboard cannon.  He had no idea if he was hitting anything.  His radar picked up Chinese aircraft off in the distance.  They were only about ten miles away but his AIM-120Ds were hampered by his low altitude.  He waited a few seconds for the range to reduce.  In seconds, he was over the Chinese column, and past them, still on full afterburner.  If anything, he was even lower.  He had to pull up a few feet to dodge the overpasses across the freeway then went back down once past.  He was taking insane risks, but speed and low level were his only chance.  Coming to the end of the Coachella Valley, he again pulled into a high G turn, but to the left.  Turning the corner, San Jacinto Mountain masked him from the enemy SAM launchers and his threat receiver muted down.  Total time exposed to Chinese SAM coverage: three minutes.  He was sweating like he had run a marathon.

“Phat One One to Phat Two One.  Watch yourself, those SAMs are alerted to your presence.  They are lined up on I-10, align your attack to the freeway.”  Pulling up hard, he targeted the two Chinese planes he could see on his radar, fired off two more AIM-120Ds and quickly dropped down again into the valley behind Joshua Tree National Park.  Four missiles expended, he and his wingman were completely untouched.

The follow-on squadron of F-16s were not so lucky.  Half of them were shot down but they managed to drop an even dozen cluster bombs right onto the Chinese SAMs.   Paulson had no way of knowing, but his mission was a success.  All the attacking helicopters had been downed by the F-15s and the Chinese fighter aircraft had abandoned their planned attack on the American position, at least for the moment.