hour, his bunker would be targeted, and they’d get to see just how thick their armor protection really was.
“Five Six Alfa, this is Five Zero. We have infantry eleven hundred meters to our south. Company strength and moving north toward us.”
“Very well. Do not engage until they are within two hundred meters.” Komanov automatically doubled the shooting range at which he’d been trained to open fire. What the hell, he thought, his crews would do that in their own minds anyway. A man thinks differently when real bullets are flying.
As if to emphasize that, shells started landing on the crest immediately behind his position, close enough to make him duck down.
“So they see us?” his loader asked.
“No, they’re just barraging the next set of hills to support their infantrymen.”
“Look, look there, they’re on top of false bunker One Six,” the gunner said. Komanov shifted his glasses—
Yes, they were there, examining the old KV-2 gun turret with its vertical sides and old 155-mm gun. As he watched, a soldier hung a satchel charge on the side and backed away. Then the charge went off, destroying something that had never worked anyway. That would make some Chinese lieutenant feel good, Komanov thought. Well, Five Six Alfa would change his outlook somewhat, in another twenty or thirty minutes.
The bad part was that now he had perfect targets for his supporting artillery, and those old six-inch guns would have cut through them like a harvester’s scythe. Except the Chinese were still hitting those positions, even though the Russian fire had stopped. He called Regiment again to relay his information.
“Lieutenant,” his colonel answered, “the supporting battery has been badly hit. You are on your own. Keep me posted.”
“Yes, Comrade Colonel. Out.” He looked down at his crew. “Don’t expect supporting fire.” The weapons of World War III had just destroyed those of World War I.
“Shit,” the loader observed.
“We’ll be in the war soon, men. Be at ease. The enemy is now closer ...”
“Five hundred meters,” the gunner agreed.
Well?” General Peng asked at his post atop Rice Ridge. ”We’ve found some bunkers, but they are all unoccupied,” Colonel Wa reported. ”So far, the only fire we’ve taken has been indirect artillery, and we’ve counterbatteried that to death. The attack is going completely to plan, Comrade General.” They could see the truth of that. The bridging engineers were rolling up to the south bank of the Amur now, with folded sections of ribbon bridge atop their trucks. Over a hundred Type 90 main-battle tanks were close to the river, their turrets searching vainly for targets so that they could support the attacking infantry, but there was nothing for them to shoot at, and so the tankers, like the generals, had nothing to do but watch the engineers at work. The first bridge section went into the water, flipping open to form the first eight meters of highway across the river. Peng checked his watch. Yes, things were going about five minutes ahead of schedule, and that was good.
Post Five Zero opened up first with its 12.7-mm machine gun. The sound of it rattled across the hillside. Five Zero was thirty-five hundred meters to his east, commanded by a bright young sergeant named Ivanov. He opened up too early, Komanov thought, reaching for targets a good four hundred meters away, but there was nothing to complain about, and the heavy machine gun could easily reach that far ... yes, he could see bodies crumpling from the heavy slugs—
—then a crashing BOOM as the main gun let loose a single round, and it reached into the saddle they defended, exploding there amidst a squad or so.
“Comrade Lieutenant, can we?” his gunner asked.
“No, not yet. Patience, Sergeant,” Komanov replied, watching to the east to see how the Chinese reacted to the fire. Yes, their tactics were predictable, but sound. The lieutenant commanding them first got his men down. Then they set up a base of fire to engage the Russian position, and then they started maneuvering left and right. Aha, a section was setting up something ... something on a tripod. An antitank recoilless rifle, probably. He could have turned his gun to take it out, but Komanov didn’t want to give away his position yet.
“Five Zero, this is Five Six Alfa, there’s a Chinese recoilless setting up at your two o’clock, range eight hundred,” he warned.
“Yes, I see it!” the sergeant replied. And he had the good sense to engage it with his machine gun. In two seconds, the