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Henderson Field
Midway Island Atoll
14 February
1040 Local Time
MSgt Graves could hear the rattle of a diesel engine rapidly approaching as he reached the cluster of barracks. It had only been a half mile, but the forty-five-year-old felt like he had just run a half-marathon.
Major Davis had told them to spread out as the six men reached the tree line. Graves assumed it was from the survival training he had received as a pilot, but it made sense. It was harder to catch six people hiding individually than one group.
Graves rounded the corner of the white two-story building and leaned against the wall. He peered around it to see the black Humvee stop and armed men emerge. Graves quietly focused on his breathing, trying to calm himself as the adrenaline surged through his veins. He knew he had to keep moving. The men after him didn’t seem to be interested in holding a civil conversation.
As he continued moving around the house, Graves found a door. He tried it, hoping to get inside and hide. Locked. Graves looked back as the men continued toward the houses. They appeared to be walking in formation with their rifles up and ready as they moved through the high grass. Definitely not amateurs.
Seeing his opportunity, Graves took off running to the next cluster of houses across the dirt path. He needed to make it to the Officer in Charge house where they had been staying. It contained the satellite communications equipment that could be used to radio for help.
As he made it to the building marked CHOKEDEE HOUSE, he heard screaming and gunshots. The register of the weapons sent nearby birds flying before he heard two more rounds. He prayed they weren’t his friends, but he feared the worst.
Graves found another door, but it too was locked, so he inched his way around the corner of the building as more gunshots rang out. His adrenaline was spiked. He was starting to get tunnel vision as his heart rate increased.
Sprinting to the next house, Graves looked over his shoulder to see two armed men approaching. As he reached the wall, he heard rounds zip by as they peppered the wall in front of him. He instinctively ducked, nearly falling over himself as he tried to keep running. He reached the corner of the building and turned, stumbling to the ground as he took cover behind the building.
He heard another scream and more shots fired as he tried to catch his breath. Keep moving. He knew they wouldn’t stop. He could see the Officer in Charge house from his position. It was across a dirt path. There was nothing but open space between him and calling for help. The men were still rapidly approaching his position. He had to make a run for it.
His legs were burning and his side hurt. He ran as fast as he could, suddenly wishing he had taken the Air Force’s mile and a half Physical Fitness Test more seriously as he struggled to breathe. His boots felt like twenty-pound weights strapped to his legs. Just make it to the door, he told himself.
As he reached the front yard of the white house, he heard more gunfire. He ducked in anticipation of rounds flying in his direction. Instead, he heard another scream. This time he recognized the voice. It was that of his pilot, Major Davis. He shook off the concern, focusing only on survival.
He reached the unlocked door and flung it open, still running as he reached the living area. As he passed the seating area around the fireplace, he found the phone still sitting on the desk between the two chairs. The living area looked more like a lobby of a hotel than a house. A wooden sign marked MIDWAY HOUSE hung over the fireplace that was surrounded by furniture with floral designs. Graves picked up the phone and entered the number to the Command Post at Misawa Air Force Base. It was the number most likely to get help and the only number he had memorized on the base.
The phone made a beeping noise, seemed to ring once, and then the line went dead. Graves heard more gunfire outside and ducked down as he hit redial to try again. This time, the phone made no attempt to dial out. The line was dead.
Graves tried a third time to no avail. Realizing that it was somehow out of service, Graves sprinted toward the stairs. He could hear voices outside and the sound of the diesel engine approaching. He raced up the two flights of stairs and entered his bedroom, closing the door gently behind him. Panicked, Graves entered the closet and curled up in the farthest corner after closing the door. All he had left to do was hide and pray they didn’t find him.
* * *
“My name is Major Aaron Davis, and I am the senior ranking officer here,” the man in the green flight suit said as he held up his hands.
Xiang stood in front of the man as his men stood on either side of the American major. They had found him hiding under a wooden picnic table near one of the white houses.
“How many men do you have here?” Xiang asked calmly in heavily accented English.
“It’s just me and a few others,” Davis replied.
“You are lying,” Xiang replied.
“Please,” Davis said. His face was pale and his hands were shaking as he tried to keep them up.
“How many more are there?” Xiang asked again.
“Six,” Davis said. “But they’re not a threat to you! They’re just maintainers trying to fix my jet. I’m the one you want.”
“Thank you,” Xiang said as he raised his sidearm.
“Please! No!” Davis yelled out before he was silenced by Xiang’s H&K USP9 handgun.
“Xiang, report,” Fang said in Chinese over the handheld radio.
“All but one have been accounted for, sir,” Xiang replied. “We are tracking him now.”
There was a brief pause on the radio before Fang replied, “Do not kill him. Bring him to me.”
“Alive, sir?” Xiang said, confused by the change in orders.
“Alive!” Fang barked.
“Yes, sir,” Xiang replied sharply. Fang was not a man to be tested. Xiang had seen many men die at Fang’s hands over minor indiscretions. His temper was a weakness in Xiang’s eyes.
Xiang holstered his sidearm and motioned for his men to regroup. They joined the two men that had been chasing the final American at the edge of the cluster of houses. They spread out in a V-formation as they quickly crossed the dirt road toward the isolated Officer in Charge house.
As they reached the white house among the scattered trees, Xiang raised his hand and motioned for the two men on his right to take up an echelon right formation. His team stacked up on the open doorway. After a silent countdown, Xiang entered, immediately turning left as the men behind him each entered covering opposite directions.
With silent efficiency, the team cleared the downstairs area. Satisfied no one was there, Xiang ordered one of his men to cover the downstairs area as the rest of the team slowly made their way up the stairway with their rifles up and ready.
As they arrived in the upstairs area, they found three closed bedroom doors. The two trail men covered the narrow hallway as Xiang and the man behind him prepared to enter the nearest room. After a silent countdown, Xiang quietly pushed open the door and entered, immediately peeling off to the right as the second man followed and went left.
They searched the open closet and beneath the bed. The room was clear. Xiang walked back to the doorway and tapped the man covering left on the shoulder. He replied with a thumbs up, indicating the hallway was clear. The team moved forward toward the second door.
This time, the two men that were covering the hallway entered the second room as Xiang and the other man covered the hallway. Xiang watched the hallway for any signs of movement as the two men worked quickly to clear the second bedroom. Every man on the team had years of training. There wasn’t a single person in their mission to Midway that Xiang didn’t consider to be elite.
Moments after the two men entered, Xiang felt a tap on his shoulder and replied by raising his thumb. The two men exited the room and Xiang moved to the last bedroom. The American must be here, he thought as he prepared to enter the room.
After another silent countdown, Xiang shoved open the door and entered the room quickly. This time, two of the men followed behind him. After clearing left and right, Xiang found a closed closet door. He motioned to his men to cover with their rifles as he prepared to push it open.
Standing to the side of the mirrored door, Xiang nodded at his men and then slid the door open before readying his own rifle. The two men covering the door moved forward and checked the closet. Except for a few pillows and blankets stacked to the side, it was empty.
Xiang returned his focus to the room. He had to have been in here. He searched for a clue. Fang would not be happy to know that an American was loose on the island during their operation.
And then he found it. As he walked toward the nightstand, Xiang noticed the window. It was unlatched and not completely closed. He pushed it open and looked out, finding a ledge that the American could have easily jumped to before descending to the adjacent shed’s roof.
Xiang motioned for his men to follow as he raced out the room and down the stairs. The hunt was on.