Part 118, Chapter 1966
Chapter One Thousand Nine Hundred Sixty-Six
6th March 1970
Yangtze River, Hubei Province, China
With the arrival of Spring, the forces under the command of Sun Li-gen had launched a general offensive north with the aim of taking Zhengzhou. The orders of the HMS Darner were that they were to assist them where they could. What that looked like was conducting fire support for the bridgehead at Wuhan and as Smythe knew full well, that meant the other side was close enough to shoot back. He heard the shriek the high velocity shell, a series dull thuds, finally the large splash of the shell hitting the water a couple hundred yards past the Darner and exploding. The gunnery tower, where Smythe presently was, and the bridge were the only things actually armored above the waterline, with splinter shields provided for the crew served weapons. So, the shell had passed through the main deck of the Darner, the sheet metal and plywood bulkheads hardly slowing it down. With luck, nothing of importance or any of the men had got caught in the path of that thing.
“That sounded like a PAK 40” Hastings said over the intercom.
One of the annoying things about the Sublieutenant was his ability to state the obvious. The Germans had built tens of thousands of the 75mm anti-tank guns and after the war had sold them widely. They remained very potent weapons even if they had grown obsolescent in their original role.
“Will the gunners get some smoke between us and him before he realizes the nature of his mistake” Smythe heard Courtenay calmly order the gunners of the thumper guns who started firing smoke grenades at the riverbank. The mistake he had referred to was in regards the type of shell that had just been fired at the Darner, if it had been high-explosive… “If you could please engage the enemy Mister Smythe.”
It was something that Smythe didn’t need to be told twice. He gave a nod to the ship’s Gunnery Officer who used the director to guide shells from the four-inch guns at the area he thought the fire was coming from as Smythe observed the falling shells with his binoculars. The thumpers got into the act, lobbing grenades into anything they suspected were enemy positions. He saw what he thought was a burst of fire from one of the Bofors guns and knew he would have to chew out the gun captain who had fired it. The Bofors crews were supposed to be keeping an eye out for the helicopters and attack aircraft who could really ruin their day.
Another volley fired from the four-inch guns and Smythe saw a secondary explosion that had the telltales of an artillery piece and ammunition limber brewing up. That was one threat eliminated. With that, Smythe resumed the work of scanning the land above the river for additional threats.
Los Angeles, California
It was early in the morning. Ritchie figured that the sunrise would be a pale glow on the eastern horizon if it were visible, the bright glow of the city lights reflecting off the clouds made that impossible. Presently, it was about as quiet as it ever got in the Central Division and this being the Financial District the streets were mostly empty. He had spotted janitorial crews taking a smoke break outside their buildings a few times. With the shift, and week, being nearly over Wilkinson was clearly driving them around in a patrol pattern of the sort that was referred to as search and avoid in the Army.
The last four nights had been a blur as he had worked Skid Row and Chinatown. Mostly that had involved breaking up fights, dealing with mean drunks or vagrants. Tactics in hand to hand fighting that he had been trained to use by the Army that had never been used, that had changed in a hurry as he had a knife pulled on him on the second day. Wilkinson seemed pleased after he had watched Ritchie slam the man into a concrete wall, the knife left on the sidewalk as its owner was complaining about Ritchie having dislocated his shoulder. “That’s what you get for being stupid” Wilkinson said as he went through the man’s pockets. They had swiftly discovered the reason for the man’s actions, a large amount of cash on his person. While that wasn’t illegal per say, it was not something that one would want to be carrying in that neighborhood at that time of night. If the man had a legitimate reason to have it then it would be returned, if not then it would be a self-correcting problem. When Wilkinson told Ritchie that the money needed to be vouchered and put in evidence, he said that they had no way of knowing if it was a set up. That had been a clear warning to Ritchie about what could happen to sticky fingers.
That incident had also prompted an action that Ritchie was sure Wilkinson wouldn’t be as pleased with. Getting stabbed for his trouble was a real possibility and he figured that it would be smart to be proactive. He remembered the flak vest that he still had as a part of his kit that had been a gift of sorts from the Liaison Officer back when he had been working with the German Special Forces in that Greek mess. According to the Germans, that vest could stop a knife as well as bullets and shrapnel. Kristina had said at the time, she had done it because she was a Medic and for her it was about saving lives. Security be damned. He knew that she had become a Doctor since then and probably still believed the same thing. So, he had written her a letter asking if she knew who the manufacturer was and if it would be possible for him to buy one in a civilian capacity outside of Germany. He figured that it was probably stupid, and that Kristina probably had a million better things to do. He wasn’t expecting a response.
It was then that Dispatch alerted them that an Officer had requested backup. Wilkinson had thrown the car into a sharp U-turn and floored the accelerator peddle as Ritchie called in to Dispatch that they were responding. As they flew down the streets, lights and siren on, he had to admit that there were some parts of this job that were fun.
6th March 1970
Yangtze River, Hubei Province, China
With the arrival of Spring, the forces under the command of Sun Li-gen had launched a general offensive north with the aim of taking Zhengzhou. The orders of the HMS Darner were that they were to assist them where they could. What that looked like was conducting fire support for the bridgehead at Wuhan and as Smythe knew full well, that meant the other side was close enough to shoot back. He heard the shriek the high velocity shell, a series dull thuds, finally the large splash of the shell hitting the water a couple hundred yards past the Darner and exploding. The gunnery tower, where Smythe presently was, and the bridge were the only things actually armored above the waterline, with splinter shields provided for the crew served weapons. So, the shell had passed through the main deck of the Darner, the sheet metal and plywood bulkheads hardly slowing it down. With luck, nothing of importance or any of the men had got caught in the path of that thing.
“That sounded like a PAK 40” Hastings said over the intercom.
One of the annoying things about the Sublieutenant was his ability to state the obvious. The Germans had built tens of thousands of the 75mm anti-tank guns and after the war had sold them widely. They remained very potent weapons even if they had grown obsolescent in their original role.
“Will the gunners get some smoke between us and him before he realizes the nature of his mistake” Smythe heard Courtenay calmly order the gunners of the thumper guns who started firing smoke grenades at the riverbank. The mistake he had referred to was in regards the type of shell that had just been fired at the Darner, if it had been high-explosive… “If you could please engage the enemy Mister Smythe.”
It was something that Smythe didn’t need to be told twice. He gave a nod to the ship’s Gunnery Officer who used the director to guide shells from the four-inch guns at the area he thought the fire was coming from as Smythe observed the falling shells with his binoculars. The thumpers got into the act, lobbing grenades into anything they suspected were enemy positions. He saw what he thought was a burst of fire from one of the Bofors guns and knew he would have to chew out the gun captain who had fired it. The Bofors crews were supposed to be keeping an eye out for the helicopters and attack aircraft who could really ruin their day.
Another volley fired from the four-inch guns and Smythe saw a secondary explosion that had the telltales of an artillery piece and ammunition limber brewing up. That was one threat eliminated. With that, Smythe resumed the work of scanning the land above the river for additional threats.
Los Angeles, California
It was early in the morning. Ritchie figured that the sunrise would be a pale glow on the eastern horizon if it were visible, the bright glow of the city lights reflecting off the clouds made that impossible. Presently, it was about as quiet as it ever got in the Central Division and this being the Financial District the streets were mostly empty. He had spotted janitorial crews taking a smoke break outside their buildings a few times. With the shift, and week, being nearly over Wilkinson was clearly driving them around in a patrol pattern of the sort that was referred to as search and avoid in the Army.
The last four nights had been a blur as he had worked Skid Row and Chinatown. Mostly that had involved breaking up fights, dealing with mean drunks or vagrants. Tactics in hand to hand fighting that he had been trained to use by the Army that had never been used, that had changed in a hurry as he had a knife pulled on him on the second day. Wilkinson seemed pleased after he had watched Ritchie slam the man into a concrete wall, the knife left on the sidewalk as its owner was complaining about Ritchie having dislocated his shoulder. “That’s what you get for being stupid” Wilkinson said as he went through the man’s pockets. They had swiftly discovered the reason for the man’s actions, a large amount of cash on his person. While that wasn’t illegal per say, it was not something that one would want to be carrying in that neighborhood at that time of night. If the man had a legitimate reason to have it then it would be returned, if not then it would be a self-correcting problem. When Wilkinson told Ritchie that the money needed to be vouchered and put in evidence, he said that they had no way of knowing if it was a set up. That had been a clear warning to Ritchie about what could happen to sticky fingers.
That incident had also prompted an action that Ritchie was sure Wilkinson wouldn’t be as pleased with. Getting stabbed for his trouble was a real possibility and he figured that it would be smart to be proactive. He remembered the flak vest that he still had as a part of his kit that had been a gift of sorts from the Liaison Officer back when he had been working with the German Special Forces in that Greek mess. According to the Germans, that vest could stop a knife as well as bullets and shrapnel. Kristina had said at the time, she had done it because she was a Medic and for her it was about saving lives. Security be damned. He knew that she had become a Doctor since then and probably still believed the same thing. So, he had written her a letter asking if she knew who the manufacturer was and if it would be possible for him to buy one in a civilian capacity outside of Germany. He figured that it was probably stupid, and that Kristina probably had a million better things to do. He wasn’t expecting a response.
It was then that Dispatch alerted them that an Officer had requested backup. Wilkinson had thrown the car into a sharp U-turn and floored the accelerator peddle as Ritchie called in to Dispatch that they were responding. As they flew down the streets, lights and siren on, he had to admit that there were some parts of this job that were fun.
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