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‘What the hell have I gotten myself into here.’

Years earlier, when he was fresh out of high school and yearning to escape the drudgery of life in small-town western Texas, Matt Garrett couldn’t have imagined – not even for a minute – that he’d find himself in the opening salvos of the inevitable clash of civilizations, one that was on the brink of collapse (the USA) and the other (China) waiting to fill the role of the world’s foremost superpower.

It was the same story repeated throughout history; a declining power feels threatened by a rising power, thus leading to the outbreak of war. It was a phenomenon known as the ‘Thucydides Trap’. Athens and Sparta. Great Britain and Germany in the years leading to World War I. And now the US and China, with a brutal third world on the agenda for the foreseeable future, a global conflict that many believed would never occur, but, like a thief in the night, snuck in and caused upended not only the world economy but also the global world order run by the US which had been in place since the end of World War II.  

Deep in the pit of his stomach, Garrett had a feeling that the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) ground, air, and naval forces would descend upon Taiwan. The invasion from mainland China was more devastating than originally thought, with both Taiwanese and American forces suffering heavy losses in the struggle to prevent the invasion of what Beijing saw as a renegade province, one that had to be reigned in at all costs.

When all hell began to break loose, the six-member recon team whom Garrett commanded – a tiny spoke in the massive wheels of the 3rd Marine Reconnaissance Battalion based out of Camp Schwab, Okinawa – received reports of American losses in a surprise attack on the base in overwhelming fashion: several aircraft carriers, as well as Arleigh Burke-class US Navy destroyers, perished in the initial onslaught. It was doubtful that US ground forces would make much of a difference entering Taiwan after, to use an old country expression, the horse had gotten out after the barn door was closed, but Garrett didn’t get paid to question orders, merely ensure that they were fulfilled.

The first time Garrett found himself in a tropical forest was during jungle warfare training in Panama. It went without saying, that jungles were not his favorite environment to work in.

Tiger head Hornets whose sting could kill you, or at the very least, send you into anaphylactic shock. Centipedes and bugs the size of the kitchen table back in the old family homestead in West Texas, just outside of Odessa. And snakes. Snakes so dangerous they made the rattlesnakes in his old stomping grounds seem like tame family pets by comparison. But these creatures, created by God, were not the most alarming threat – and certainly not the reason why he was risking his life humping the boonies of this remote region of Taiwan.

The lingering question regarding how the US and its allies would fare in a global conflict against the massive combined military forces of China, Russia, North Korea, and Iran, had for the past few years weighed heavily on the minds of both the American people as well as the President, who, although wanting to put on a brave front, was not completely convinced that the US armed forces, who had been experiencing a steady decline in morale as well as recruitment, would emerge as the victor.

While the US had been fighting largely insurgencies since the end of the Korean War – guerrilla forces and terrorists in developing nations who used hit-and-run tactics – fighting the largest armed force on the planet was another ballgame entirely.

The PLA had certainly been overly aggressive in its approach to invading Taiwan. Immediately upon reaching the island nation’s shores – and after wiping out most of the defending naval and air forces – it was divided into sections that ran in one long corridor from Kaohsiung right up to Taipei. The capital had been the first domino to fall.

The energy-sapping humidity only added to the hair-raising situation. United States marines were truly a special breed. Not only did they not fear death (at least not officially), but they also lived for danger. And should the team find themselves in a life-or-death situation on the spur of the moment, leaping into firing positions while wearing 90-120-pound rucksacks was second nature to them, as they lived on the proverbial tip of the spear – at least for most of their waking hours.

Garrett couldn’t think of a better group of guys to fight alongside than his team. First, there was Jamieson, that geeky kid from New Jersey who served as point man and knew exactly what to look for when it came to spotting improvised explosive devices (IEDs) or enemy patrols. Then there was Kyle Sanderson, a mild-mannered radio operator from the working-class streets of south Chicago who was as reliable as he was courageous.

Although Christianson was the Recon team’s designated slack man, the short though incredibly stocky former high school wrestler was anything but slack. The way he carried their equipment with ease, the man was truly a human machine – an unstoppable one at that.

Last, but certainly not least, were the team’s assistant leader and assistant radio operator, Rossi, and Palmer.

The southern portion of Taiwan was dotted with PLA bases and outposts, some tiny with garrisons of no more than 20 men, little more than impromptu battle stations assembled by units that had either traveled through the jungle by vehicle or parachuted in.

Having spent his share of time in impenetrable jungles, Garnett had an instinct for figuring out the best way through this type of terrain. Southern Taiwan – compared to the northern half of the country – was more remote and more rural in nature.

Garrett speculated that the roughshod base being carved out of the forest would eventually become an airfield. Sanderson crouched low beside the team leader. The small contingent of PLA troops scurried about as though they were ants working in a colony.

The Recon squad took as many mental notes as they could. With any luck, these hostile invaders would be put out to pasture before their numbers could swell. Unfortunately, what the Chinese lacked in fighting experience, they more than made up for in their sheer numbers. Add to that the sad reality that the American war machine was nowhere nearly as resilient as it had once been, another sign of the empire’s decline.

Gather information and intelligence. Do not engage with the enemy unless you’re absolutely forced to. Garrett speculated just what the outcome of this mission would be. Upon closer examination, he confirmed that this piece of real estate in the middle of the steaming jungles of southern Taiwan was indeed accessible by road. Was that the sound of approaching vehicles?

The marines stayed entrenched in their positions. Perhaps this was nothing, as the party was not necessarily about to get a whole lot wilder. Then again, the entire situation – given its volatility – had the potential to change on a dime.

A quartet of grunts departed the jeeps, followed by two officers. Garrett wondered how these men and women felt inside about invading a sovereign nation and kickstarting World War Three. Perhaps (at least not all of them) were not the evil villains they were made out to be, but merely believed what they were doing was right and for the greater good of their motherland. After all, when you’ve been fed a steady diet of propaganda your entire life, and don’t know any better, was it really your fault if you went along with your country’s plan for world domination?

Putting all of that aside, these people were enemies of the United States, and had threatened to fire nuclear weapons at the American homeland as well as other allied nations. Therefore, in the eyes of this veteran marine, they were to be feared and shown no mercy.

He had no qualms about sending one or more of these commies to the afterlife. Unfortunately, if push came to shove, the proverbial shitstorm raining all manner of hellfire down on the Asia Pacific region would be even more devastating than it already was, if what was somehow even possible.

The highest-ranking officer, whom Garrett believed was a major, inspected the work being done by his subordinates.

As the soldiers went about doing their duty, a few got a bit too close for comfort to the fringes of the cleared patch of land.

Confident that the recon team had collected enough information, Garrett signaled for them to move back into the jungle to the LZ (landing zone) five miles away where a helicopter would pick them up and whisk them out of this extremely dangerous area.

The men lined up loosely in their usual formation, with Jamieson doing what he did best. The retreat started smoothly until suddenly, a PLA patrol changed direction. Intuition taking over, Jamieson came to a standstill. He listened as if his life depended on it. For about two brief seconds, the Chinese troops, as if they weren’t expecting any enemy movement out here, appeared stunned at the presence of the Americans.

Then the moment Garrett had been dreading but nervously anticipating came to pass.

The Chinese attacked willfully, confident in the fact that dozens or even hundreds of their comrades were nearby. The Americans didn’t have such a luxury, and even if friendly attack helicopters or fighter aircraft were able to get into the danger zone, they too risked being shot down.

One of the disadvantages of being the team’s designated point man was that they were often the first to be killed in an ambush or surprise encounter such as the one they were about to be dragged through. Jamieson wasn’t fast enough and paid for his inactions with rounds to the head and chest.

One thing was certain in this world of grave uncertainty; you couldn’t go wrong with the M4A1 rifle. This rifle – part of the M4 series of rifles which were carbine variants of the famed M16 series – was the standard weapon for Force Recon. Garrett was glad that this particular model didn’t have the substandard burst setting and allowed the user to go full auto.

The marines fell back, scrambling to get into firing positions in which to entrench themselves. No sooner had the team fallen back when Palmer and Rossi bagged two PLA troops.

While the firefight raged, Sanderson made a frantic call to base. Just as Garrett had suspected would happen, the eight-member PLA patrol soon grew by three dozen. Concentrated bursts of gunfire went back and forth through the thick rainforest. The screams of another PLA soldier being struck down were soon interrupted by Sanderson’s field radio exploding.

“Either that was done intentionally, or somebody just got really lucky,” Garrett said.

Sanderson fell back in shock. Even for a man such as himself who had experienced almost every aspect of battle, having his field radio torn apart by enemy bullets was a first.

“First Sergeant, we’re going to have back up here within a matter of minutes,” Sanderson said through gritted teeth. The field radio wasn’t the only part of him that had been injured. At first, he had noticed being so preoccupied with keeping those communist pricks from advancing on their position.

Garrett immediately noticed the gaping gunshot wounds on his teammate’s upper thigh and groin area. He put his rifle down and set about doing what was necessary to keep the wise-cracking though lovable and loyal old-stock Irish American from bleeding to death. 

Palmer, Rossi, and Christianson moved in closer to protect the rest of their team. Garrett worked feverishly to get Sanderson patched up. The Chinese soldiers were nothing short of relentless in their quest to rid the island they’d just claimed as part of the People’s Republic of China of Allied forces.

Sorry, but that just wasn’t going to happen on his watch.

Sanderson grimaced in pain as the team leader wrapped a tourniquet around the thigh wound.

“You’re gonna be all right, Kyle,” he said. “If you can survive growing up in the tough neighborhoods of South Chicago, you can survive anything.”

“I'll hold you to that, First Sergeant,” Sanderson said a bit weakly.