As Fu once more vomited into the brass pan offered to him (not out of sympathy, only out of a desire to keep the mess on the bridge to a minimum), he noted how wrong his initial academic impression was of this operation. All sailors manned their battle stations. The bridge was buzzing with activity. Orders were shouted. Eventually Fu’s stomach was empty and, with weak knees, he noted the distinct smell of the salt air and the powerful vibrations of the ship’s turbine engines. Other than dealing with the ocean being in the navy wouldn’t have been such a bad assignment, Fu thought, not really caring that the idea was inherently foolish.
Suddenly the destroyer cut hard to starboard. Fu had to grasp his chair to keep from tumbling out of it. The horizon looked tilted at an impossible angle. Fu was certain the ship would capsize but all the officers on the bridge simply grabbed whatever handhold was nearest them and continued their work as if they were in an office on dry land.
Fu felt the destroyer slow down and a moment later he saw a French-made Dauphin helicopter take to the air, rapidly heading off the destroyer’s port beam. Fu now felt strong enough to ask a question, “What’s the helicopter doing?”
A junior officer replied, “Comrade Fu, we have launched an anti-submarine warfare helicopter. It will drop sonobuoys in an attempt to locate enemy submarines.”
The officer never looked away from his radar screen. Fu knew he had been slighted. Fu also knew he hardly turned in an admirable performance on the flagship. He decided to let the young officer’s insolence slide — this time.
“Where are we now?”
“118 degrees, 16 minutes, and 24 seconds east by 23 degrees, 46 minutes, and 37 seconds north,” the officer was playing with him. Fu waited patiently for the answer he was really looking for and was not disappointed, “We are in Weitou Bay north of the Quemoy fishing village of Shamei — about one kilometer from enemy territorial waters.”
The officer finally looked back at Special Emissary Fu Zemin with a thin smile, “Sir, if you please,” he stepped aside and showed Fu his radar screen, gesturing for Fu to rise up and take a closer look.
Fu pushed himself to his unsteady feet and walked as quickly as he could to the radar station. The officer offered Fu his chair and Fu gratefully sat down.
“See these blips sir?” The officer showed Fu five pulsing dots to the center-left of the screen.
“Yes, of course.” Fu said dismissively.
“These are Taiwanese naval vessels. And these…” the officer swept his right hand, palm outward with the back of his index finger touching the screen, to the right, “…are the ships of our task force.”
A mass of radar returns filled the screen, dwarfing the enemy’s fleet. Too bad today was not the day — we could score a tremendous victory for China.
“Has the enemy always reacted this way?” Fu inquired, knowing this was the third such exercise since April.
The officer, appreciating a good question from the political officer, responded with more respect, “Sir, the first time we sent 15 warships and 11 amphibious assault ships across Amoy Bay opposite the town of Chinmen. We elicited the reaction of the entire Quemoy naval flotilla — some nine vessels within an hour of our arrival at the territorial limits. Needless to say, we could have made it ashore before the enemy could have engaged us. Two weeks later we came at them with 12 warships and five assault ships from Amoy and another ten warships and nine assault ships that started down the coast from Fuzhou the day before. The Taiwanese bandits sent 15 ships out to meet our two-pronged ‘attack’. The ships were waiting for us at their territorial limits. We also noticed a submarine operating with their flotilla. Today, we see five ships already on station. Intelligence tells us to expect another ten to 15 ships as well as a submarine. It seems the bandits are already becoming proficient at responding to our rehearsals.”
Fu considered the information, we are throwing away our ability to achieve strategic surprise in our assault on Quemoy…
The ROC navy skipper of the Dutch-built Chien Lung-class submarine (one of two Taiwan possessed) looked at the tactical display. It showed a large PLAN flotilla charging towards Taiwan’s territorial waters just north of Quemoy’s main island. Even with his silent diesel-electric boat, the skipper knew he was vulnerable in the shallow waters. Still, with the choppy seas and the confused currents, we should be able to sink a couple of destroyers, slip through their ASW screen and sink some amphibians too. He tried to put out of his mind thought of the Western anti-submarine warfare equipment the Chinese had purchased. It was hard to be hunter and prey at the same time — to simultaneously think offensively and defensively.
“I want an accurate navigational reading, take us to periscope depth and get a GPS update for our inertial navigational system.” he commanded. If he fired the first shot in a Taiwan-China skirmish, he wanted to be sure that he had a solid basis for doing so. Just let the bastards cross the line — we’ll shove some Taiwanese steel down their throats.
“Sir!” it was the tactical officer, “the enemy has crossed into our territorial waters!”
“Calm yourself lieutenant,” the skipper’s rebuke was itself quietly assuring. “Weapons! Flood the forward torpedo tubes. Target the lead enemy destroyer on the plot.” Hsaing then shouted, “Navigation, do we have our GPS update yet?”
A voice came from behind a control station, “We’ve just got our mast up, we should get a fix within five seconds… Got it! Feeding data into the inertials now sir!”
“Tactical?” the Captain looked at his young lieutenant.
“Sir, the plot’s been refreshed. The Chinese ships are within 500 meters of boundary. They are not in our waters!”
The captain felt conflicting emotions. One part of him wanted to blast the Reds out of the ocean. The other part of him heaved a sigh of relief that his nation would not suffer today nor be threatened with loss of liberty. “Weapons, run solutions for both destroyers. Secure the torpedoes. It seems our ‘friends’ are just testing us again today.”
Not today. The officer shuddered at how close he came to starting a war. Discretion is the better part of valor…
“Our agents in Taiwan report that orders have been given to transfer a division of ROC troops to Quemoy and reinforce the island with an additional Patriot air defense battery,” Minister of the Interior Ren Baisha reported to Chairman Han Wudi.
“Any word on how Taiwan knew of our preparations?”
“Yes,” the Interior Minister smiled grimly. “The traitor will be taken care of at the appropriate time.”
“What of our Special Emissary?”
“Fu? He does well. He worries that our provocations are preparing the Taiwanese too well for the coming storm.” Minister Ren gave his assessment as an approving uncle would of his nephew.
Chairman Han smiled from behind steepled hands, “Fu is a smart and ambitious young man. He will serve China well.”
“Should we tell him about the state of the diversions we have prepared with Iraq and Korea?” Ren offered, “It might encourage him.”
Han pursed his lips, “No. No need to tell him. The adversity will build his character.”
What the hell were the Chinese doing? Donna Klein looked at the latest report of yet another Chinese naval maneuver off the coast of Quemoy. She did all she could to keep current on events in China, even though she was still assigned to the Indonesia task force. She grudgingly admitted that her assignment to the task force was becoming increasingly relevant, especially now that 20,000 PLA soldiers were in Indonesia—5,000 on Java, 8,000 on Sumatra, and 7,000 on Borneo.