Upon a Winter's Morn

US Army Photo

The air was bitter cold, Corporal Bill Winston figured it had to be ten below zero, but it was quiet, another ten inches of snow had dropped during the night before the temperature plummeted as the storm had moved on.

"Hey, Heather, we clear?" Winston hissed at the soldier to his front.

Sergeant Heather Jefferson turned around and hissed back, "Shut the f**k up Bill, can't ya see I'm hunting commies up here? Be vewy, vewy quiet."

Winston grinned then signaled the rest of the fire team to move up and out to the flank. With a low whistle, he let his squad leader know that her team was in position.

Junior Sergeant Feng Yaozhu was crossing the compound, it was time to relieve the sentries in the watch towers. He was frozen. The heat in the barracks was just enough to keep the water from freezing. There was nothing in the pipes, the plumbing had broken down weeks ago.

They had water in buckets around the sole wood-burning stove in each barracks. The stoves had been "liberated" from some of the homes in town. The homes had been empty, many of the occupants had been arrested and sent to a re-education camp near Albany. Some had been executed as terrorists, especially those caught in the act of sabotage. They had lost a number of vehicles to simple things like sugar in the fuel tanks.

Feng had never experienced cold and snow like this region experienced, his home in southern China was nothing like this. He couldn't wait to leave this place. He was starting to doubt the reasons he had been given for being sent here. He had been told that the UN had requested their presence, "voting irregularities" had been the reason he had been given.

From what Feng had heard, most of those irregularities had been perpetrated by the current ruling party.

Staff Sergeant Willis Jenkins was nearly invisible in his snow suit. He was positioned on a small hill some three hundred yards from the Chinese compound. He had watched the one Chinese soldier cross the compound and go into one of the barracks. The man had emerged a few minutes later with what Jenkins had to assume were the men meant to replace the sentries in the watch towers situated around the perimeter. Those men were more focused on being relieved than watching their assigned sectors.

He had watched the man through his scope, guy kinda looked like Jackie Chan, Jenkins had thought. He was a big fan of Jackie's movies, too bad that he was too old to do his own stunts anymore. Oh well, better concentrate on the job at hand, otherwise his lieutenant would chew him a new one.

He heard the whistling sound at that moment, right about on time Jenkins thought. He could see that the Chinese heard it too, they were rushing to take cover. At that moment he fired, "Sorry Jackie," he thought to himself, "dude ain't you, just looks like you."

Feng felt like he had been punched in the chest. He fell heavily to the ground, desperately trying to catch his breath, for the moment he had no idea that he'd been shot. Two of his men rushed over to him to drag him to cover. He wanted to wave them off, "Take cover you fools," he thought to himself as the first mortar rounds began to impact in and around the compound. He couldn't speak, he could only gasp.

A nearby explosion deafened him and killed or wounded the two men who had been trying to help him. He tried to roll over onto his belly, he was helpless on his back. Though he managed it, the pain was intense, it was only then did he realize that he'd been shot. "Probably a sniper out on that small hill across that field," he thought. Then he thought no more.

Jenkins was waiting, waiting for an officer to show himself. The mortar rounds had stopped but the men who had taken cover were still keeping their heads down. It appeared that no one suspected that he was out here. He figured he had one more shot, then he'd make himself scarce.

"There you are," he whispered under his breath as a man came out of the office block. He was carrying a rifle, looked like a QBZ-95, from the greatcoat and the boots, Jenkins pegged him as an officer. Putting the crosshairs on him, he squeezed the trigger.

Captain Jiang Guo gasped as the frigid air hit his lungs. The weather here reminded him of his time on the lines facing the Russians in the north of China. He thought that it was a lot colder along the Amur River, but this was still uncomfortably cold. He looked around the compound, the incoming mortar rounds had ceased, he could see a few men down in the open. No doubt they had been unable to take cover in time.

"Lieutenant Wei Bao! Get our personnel carriers started up, I need men to come with me on a patrol. We need to get out there and run these criminals down! Let's go, move i..."

Jiang dropped to his knees as the sniper round took the top of his head off, his sergeant, coming out of the door behind him, also went down. The round which had killed Jiang, had hit him in the throat.

Sergeant Heather Jefferson led her squad into the ruins of the compound. There were dead and dying men everywhere. Two of the buildings were enveloped in flames.

Though the Chinese had managed to get two of their APCs started, they had both been taken out by two of the Guard unit's remaining Javelins. One APC was still burning in a ditch near the compound's main gate, two of its occupants draped out of partially open hatches.

"Hey, you folks need to wait until we clear the area!" Jefferson yelled over at a group of people from town who had entered the compound, they were stripping dead soldiers of their weapons and ammunition. They were also finishing off those Chinese who were wounded but still alive.

"Hey!" she shouted again.

"Let 'em be Sarge. They've been living with these assholes' boots on their throats for months now. They deserve some payback." Private Hakim McDonald said.

"Yup, and payback's a bitch." His buddy Denton Adams chimed in.

Bob Woodson rode into town in Major Morrison's Humvee. It saddened him to see how run down the place was. As the vehicle rolled to a stop, the Major turned to Woodson and said, "You sure you want to stay here? The Chinese might send in reinforcements in the spring."

"I'll be okay Sir." As he said that he nodded to a couple of men nearby. "Not sure if we'll stick around until spring."

Morrison noticed that both men carried what looked like M-16s, probably the civilian version of that venerable weapon. "Friends of yours?"

"Yes Sir, First New York Volunteers."

As Woodson dismounted, Morrison said, "Thanks for the intel on these clowns."

Woodson grinned and said, "Thanks for killin' 'em for us."