Sino-Vietnamese border. 1010 hrs.
The "Blitzkrieg" attack started, not with an artillery barrage as expected, by a push by Battlemaster tanks. They rolled over the borderline with Vietnam. The first resistance they encountered was a loneT-75 tank. The commander of the T-75 was a fresh-faced Lieutenant, full of courage, but naïve. He stared at the approaching Battlemasters in shocked disbelief. What? He thought belatedly. The Chinese? He did not stop to consider the repercussions of the Chinese attack on his homeland. "They will pay for this. Move into attack position!" The crew exchanged worried glances. They would surely die if they attacked such a large force. Sensing his crew's hesitation, the commander's ebony eyes glittered. "Move into attack position!" He yelled. This time the crew complied. The T-75 moved into a better position, the 80-mm cannon swivelling round to aim at the Chinese tanks. "Fire!" Ordered the Lieutenant. The cannon belched flame, echoing in the thick jungle canopy. The Chinese commander was stunned when an 80 mm shell landed in front of one of the tanks. Frantically the T-75 reloaded and fired again. This time a Battlemaster erupted into flame. The enemy T-75 was on the move again, as a stationary target in a tank battle is suicide. The Battlemaster G-84 was the next to be hit, the turret popping off like a jack in the box. But the Chinese tanks had found the range and a salvo of 85 mm shells reduced the T-75 into a heap of scrap metal. The brave Lieutenant was the first Vietnamese to be awarded a medal posthumously (after death). The Battlemasters surged on towards Viet-Tri, the Emperors close behind them.
Viet-Tri airbase, Vietnam. 1013 hrs.
The parked MiG 21 fighters sat in the early morning sun. The few MiG 23 that the airfield had sat in the hangars. The first inkling of the strike was the destruction of a MiG 21 that was just taking off. A MiG 29 "Fulcrum" swooped out of the sun and strafed the MiG 21 with its' 30 mm cannon. The Fishbed smashed into the tarmac. 8 other MiG 29's appeared to the west, and started to strafe and blast the airbase. The MiG's attacked in 3 groups of 2 and 1 group of 3. The first group attacked with their ATS missiles, aiming for the MiG 21's on the taxiway. They exploded easily. The control tower radioed off a warning before being destroyed by the second group, dropping laser- guided bombs. The maintenance building, too, was destroyed. The final group of 2 dropped more powerful "firestorm" napalm bombs on the hangars. The floggers sat in the midst of a flaming inferno. One brave pilot leapt in his fighter and manoeuvred out of the liquid flame to the taxiway. The group of three MiG 29's destroyed him, sweeping the field with cannon fire. The few remaining aircrew and soldiers on the base raced to the one SAM (Surface to Air Missile) site that the under funded airbase had. They fired a shot into the first MiG 29 that flew overhead. The MiG's wing came apart, and the fighter ploughed into the runway. The pilot had no chance of survival. The SAM site fired a final missile into a second MiG as it lined up for a strafing run. The pilot ejected safely. Seconds later the SAM site was destroyed. The Vietnamese airbase had been reduced to ruins, with only two MiG 29's downed and one pilot killed. Vietnam had been caught unawares, but was now on alert.
Xinhua ridge artillery regiment base, Xinhua ridge. 1021 hrs.
I popped my head out of cover, and fired off several shots towards the Vietnamese men, wincing as the screams of the hit and dying reached my ears. The marine next to me was hit in the face and was instantly killed. I had by now realised that the situation was hopeless. 20 men against a whole battalion? I killed another NVPA soldier as he attempted to run forward to throw a grenade. The marine covering a wounded comrade behind me was killed. I was alone. I couldn't even shoot out of cover. Suddenly, the type 29 truck that had brought us here skidded into the melee. The canvas tarp fell off the sides and six marines, armed with AK74's and rocket launchers, and opened fire. The NVPA men were cut down were they stood. The 2 soldiers with rocket launchers destroyed the first four guns; bullets to ammunition stocks destroyed the rest. "Sir!" Came a shout from the cab. It was Sergeant Xung. "Hurry! We have to get out of here, tell HQ that our artillery has been destroyed." "Cover me!" I yelled, and I launched myself out from behind the gun. The roar of the AK74's to my right, I slid into the cab. "Hit the gas!" I shouted to Xung. "Yes sir!" And the truck spun around, with the soldiers in the back still firing, we sped through the gate and away, leaving in our wake some very angry Vietnamese to count their dead.
The Vietnamese officer could feel his life slipping away. Blast the Chinese! One of his men sprinted to him. "Sir! Are you…" The soldier's voice died as he saw the wound. "L…listen to m… me." Spluttered the officer. "You…must…escape. Your duty is not yet done. The Chinese…wi…l… send troops to finish you off…" The officer's eyes dimmed as his body was racked in waves of pain. "Escape…get to Viet-Tri…help them stem the tide…" As the officer's eyes shut for the last time, he thought he could hear the voice of his fiancée, that he could feel her gentle hands. He coughed a final time, blood spraying out of his mouth and onto the ground. The medic pronounced him dead, and the N.C.O stood up. "Let us pray."