Admiral Wong looked at Fu with grudging admiration. The political officer escaped injury and like a man using the martial arts, had managed to reverse a disadvantageous position and come out ahead. “Yes, comrade Fu, perhaps we could. In the event that they do not wish to watch our operation, however, I recommend that we obtain clarification from Beijing as to what our military options would be if the Americans decide to intervene. If we wait until we have to ask in battle, their answer will be too late to help us.”
“You are correct, Admiral Wong. We will both ask the question — you through the PLA command channel and I through the Party. In any event, I suspect the leadership will direct us to ignore the Americans as irrelevant. I sincerely doubt the Americans have the stomach for confronting a major power over an issue of minor significance to them.”
“Which brings us back to the weather,” the Admiral said. “Our forecasters expect the weather to hold favorable for at least 48 hours. The typhoon’s course at present is predicted to carry it over Hainan Island, well out of the zone of our operations.”
Fu folded his hands and settled in for the rest of the briefing. So, that was that. Everything is in place and the only unpredictable factor is what the Americans will do with their tiny flotilla — is four ships the best the once-mighty U.S. Navy can do? I wonder if they know about our plans or if this is random chance?
As Colonel Flint had promised, the drills continued after they left Thailand, this time involving the whole MEU. Several dozen newly minted Marines had joined the unit during its stopover in Satihip, providing an additional reason for some serious training. In addition, the unit took delivery of new helicopters to replace those lost in Indonesia.
Entering the South China Sea, the Colonel had them “take” Cam Ranh Bay and a nearby airfield in central Vietnam. The next day he turned their attention to Subic Bay and Clark Air Force base in the Philippines. The drills had gone smoothly. The MEU was near the top of its form. They would be back in Okinawa in two and a half more days, but Colonel Flint decided to get one more training exercise in.
“The Port of Kaohsiung and the Kaohsiung International Airport,” he announced to his tired command staff. Everyone groaned. Two weeks of continuous drills had them all a little frayed around the edges. No one was more exhausted than the Colonel himself, who spent all his waking moments conducting the training exercises, and most of his rack time wondering what he could have done differently to save his Marines from dying needlessly in a far away land of no strategic import to America.
“But that’s in Taiwan,” his XO objected. “You know that the PRC is going to lodge a diplomatic protest if we approach their renegade province too closely, or launch Harriers and LCACs in their offshore waters.”
“Renegade province, my ass,” exploded Major Ramirez, who had developed a strong dislike for the politically correct XO. “The people of Taiwan have a democratic government and a free market economy. They’re everything that Communist China is not. I say screw the PRC.”
“That’s why you’ll never make colonel,” said the XO starchly.
Ramirez rose from his chair, more out of reflex than fight.
“Sit down, Rez,” Colonel Flint said mildly. “And Colonel Burl, let me worry about the diplomatic niceties.” Addressing the larger group, he continued, “The CATF (Captain of the Task Force) has agreed to put us about 15 miles offshore of Kaohsiung. You can all see from the map here that Kaohsiung is on Taiwan’s southwest coast. This means that we’ll be running the Straits all right, but there’s a typhoon building to the southeast that will provide a convenient cover for our actions.”
The XO looked as if he were about to speak. Colonel Flint fixed him with a glance, forcing Burl to begin studying his fingernails.
“This will probably be our last drill together, men,” Colonel Flint continued after a moment, speaking in measured tones. “For this reason alone I’d like it to be picture perfect. But there’s another reason I want you all to play this one for keeps. If China ever makes good on its threat to take Taiwan by force, they will try to take Kaohsiung early in the game. It’s the island’s best deepwater port, the key to bringing in enough PLA troops to take and hold the island. You Marines may one day have to go in with guns blazing.”
Lieutenant Colonel Burl just slightly rolled his eyes. Only Major Ramirez saw the slight, increasing his contempt for the XO another notch, if that was possible.
20
Dragon Strike
Donna Klein sat staring at the photograph of the COSCO bulk freighter. It was three days old. Probably taken from a ship in Shantou harbor, although the source wasn’t important. She looked at the note from the imagery analyst. It read, “Notice the top of the ship. There are piles of ore visible. Notice how the ship rides in the water, suggesting the ship is displacing less than 1/3 of its capacity.”
Their sources in Shantou had reported unusual troop movements at night for the last few nights. Same with Amoy and Fuzhou. She wondered about Chinese intentions towards Taiwan. What could they really do, anyway? They can only lift about 20,000 troops and 400 tanks into battle amphibiously. What’s going on?
Donna knew that senior leadership in Central Intelligence had been advised of an increased state of Chinese military readiness by their counterparts in Taiwan. Rumor had it that the Director himself was informed by his opposite number in Taipei that the Chinese might soon attack the offshore islands of Quemoy and Matsu. The Taiwanese were confident they could defend the islands without American assistance if the attack actually did occur.
She looked at the next photograph. This one was a black and white satellite image of an area of scattered trees. There were small white arrows pointing at six of the larger “trees.” The imagery analyst had noted, “Camouflage netting probably concealing a new tactical ballistic missile battery. Judging by the vehicle tracks leading to the netting on the lower right, this is probably a new DF-11/M-11 battery.”
Something was eating at her. Something in the conventional wisdom was wrong. She decided to call her father; this time, it would be business. She dialed, thinking intently while punching out the numbers. Rear Admiral Klein, USN (ret.), had to say, “Hello?” twice before Donna responded.
“Daddy, I have to ask you a question.”
Klein, a 68-year-old widower, immediately recognized the voice of his youngest child. Admiral Klein always delighted in a call from Donna. “Sure, sweetie, what is it?” he asked.
“Tell me again about the Second Taiwan Straits crisis. You commanded a destroyer, right? What was your chief concern, I mean, the Chinese didn’t have much of a navy at the time, did they?”
“Well, the Chinese had a fair amount of artillery and they had a huge fleet of fishing boats. We were afraid they would massively bombard Quemoy then send a swarm of infantry over on fishing boats to capture the island. They tried doing that in 1949 with 29,000 troops, but were repulsed with heavy losses. But, you know all that, why the call?”
“Daddy, did you think they would invade?”
“Not with the U.S. Navy around, I didn’t.”
Not with the U.S. Navy around. Donna’s blood ran cold. “Daddy, I have to go.” She hung up.
Admiral Klein sat back in his chair and wondered what was eating at his daughter — the call had been so short and business-like.
Communist Party advisor Fu Zemin was shocked beyond belief. He was also scared. Five military policemen had just burst into Admiral Wong’s command center and arrested the admiral, just two hours before the invasion of Quemoy was to proceed. Moments after Admiral Wong was removed from the underground bunker, the admiral’s chief-of staff was handed a message by the senior military policeman. He bowed curtly, told his staff to continue operations and then walked over to Fu.