The mission would be made all the easier by the E-bomb attack, which the planners told him, would destroy the enemy’s ability to communicate. Finally, conducting the raid using Taiwanese-type vehicles (quietly purchased from the Sudan, then refurbished) would only add to the surprise and confusion. No one at all would know 39 soldiers of the PLA, dressed in ROC Army uniforms, were coming.
The major followed the lead car just after it rammed down the airport’s cyclone fence. The nimble four-wheeled 9.8-ton armored car had a 202 hp V-8 diesel with a top speed of 55 mph — perfect for city driving. The small convoy turned onto Pingchaing Road in the light industrial district just north of the airport. It was 8:10 AM. There was only one moving car on this street. There were two other cars stalled in the middle of the street with their hoods open and their owners fretting over the engines. The major was glad most workers were already at their Saturday morning jobs.
Free from the area of chemical attack, the commandos removed their protective masks, greatly improving their ability to see and communicate. This would also lessen public suspicion.
The convoy turned south and ground to a halt. Traffic at the intersection was completely tangled. The light was out and there was a fender-bender between two old cars and a rusty truck. The commando team leader ordered his vehicles to push ahead on the sidewalk. Several cars were edged aside in the process. The cross street, Mintsu East Road was bumper-to-bumper. This was not in the plan!
The lead armored car nosed its way through the stalled traffic, clearing a way. The major curiously noticed that almost every car’s driver was out and most cars had their hoods up.
The front bumper of a new Mercedes was snagged by the armored car and torn off. The wealthy businessman who owned the car was trying to get a dial tone on a nearby public phone (his cell phone ceased working) when he saw his car being wrecked by the military. That a lowly member of the Army had the gall to damage his car! The owner bolted out of the phone booth and ran over to his car as the second armored vehicle was ready to squeeze through. The businessman was dissuaded from further complaint when the commando major pointed the roof-mounted 20mm machine gun at the Mercedes owner’s chest.
The team edged on through the city, making far slower progress than originally anticipated. The commander knew he had only 15 minutes remaining before they’d have to put their masks back on and button-up or be themselves incapacitated by a massive chemical attack.
Back at the airport, the junior security officer grasped the significance of the vehicles that roared out of the Il-76, breached the airport fence and disappeared into the city. He yelled at three of his colleagues who were upwind from the chemical attack. “You men! Come with me!” In the confusion, the men were relieved to follow someone who had a plan. He rapidly told them of the impending danger.
“We need to warn the authorities as fast as possible. With three vehicles they can attack at least three facilities. Certainly, the President will be one of their targets. Who else?”
One of the security officers reflected, “Certainly not the police station. They’re too heavily armed. What about City Hall?”
“Yes, excellent! The President and City Hall, who else?”
“The National Assembly?” asked another.
The lieutenant grew impatient, “No, they’re not in session and besides, there’s too many of them to kill them all. Look, we’re wasting time now. We’re agreed that City Hall and the President’s house are the two prime targets. I’ll get on my motorcycle and drive to warn the President.” He then pointed rapidly at each of the three men, “You get to City Hall. You get up to the Army barracks at Neihu and tell them the capital is under assault. You, find a different vehicle and get to the President’s house too. Between the both of us, one of us might make it before that assassination squad does! Let’s go!”
The lieutenant ran to his bike and kick started the engine to life. He noticed that the other three security officers were having problems getting any vehicles to start. He shouted encouragement at them as rumbled by, “Keep trying, some of them have to work!”
The E-bomb’s powerful wave of energy acted in two general ways: first, it produced a high voltage spike which directly damaged most commercial computer devices by breaking down their delicate Metal Oxide Semiconductor components; second, the energy wave was picked up by any receiver, whether an antenna or a simple power line, and transmitted directly to any attached device. This second mode of electronic attack was similar to sending a huge bolt of lightning down every antenna and wire in the city. Not only was the power grid destroyed, but most every computer chip was fried as well. The effect on any vehicle built in the 1980s or later was devastating. Most simply quit running at the instant of the attack.
The PLA major was getting frustrated. The streets were clogged with disabled cars, he was only halfway to his objective, and he was running out of time. It was 8:15 AM. He now had ten minutes remaining before his life was about to get much more complicated. The commandos turned south on Chengteh Road. The road was completely blocked and the sidewalks were too cluttered with vendor’s stands and people to move through. Only four kilometers to go.
He decided to go on foot. He left a driver and vehicle commander/ machine-gunner in each LAV-150 and set out with 32 of his remaining team. At a jog they could cover at least two kilometers before the missiles rained down on key parts of the city. After that, with their masks on, he hoped they could make it to their objective before the chemical agent started to penetrate their unprotected skin.
The major gave the sign to abandon the vehicles. He knew the crews he left behind would do everything they could to catch up to his team at the Presidential Building. On each vehicle three crew hatches opened, one on each side and one in the rear. From each armored car 11 men quietly assembled on the sidewalk, purposefully not taking up defensive positions nor looking threatening. Within 15 seconds they set off to the south at a fast jog, leaving the vehicle crews to figure out how to maneuver through the worst traffic jam in Taipei’s history.
The lieutenant was almost to the Presidential Building. From the airport he decided to take the Chienkuo flyover south to the Jenai Road exit. He weaved expertly between the masses of broken down cars. This was a very puzzling situation and it most certainly did not bode well for the young democracy he owed allegiance to.
The young officer pulled up to the Presidential complex and was almost shot by the ring of anxious presidential guards stationed outside the main building. “I’m a special airport security officer!” he yelled, hopping off his motorcycle and letting it tip over on the sidewalk, “The President is in danger! An assassination team from China is heading this way in armored vehicles!”
By the time he finished his sentence, three presidential guards had tackled him, taken his pistol and pinned him painfully to the ground with their knees on his back and neck. “Please,” he rasped, “I must speak with the officer in charge!” He felt his wallet being taken from his back pocket, “Yes, check my identification. I must speak to someone in charge.”
He was handcuffed and four guards bodily carried him into a side entrance, down a hall and into a small command post. A colonel glared at him, “Speak immediately! I don’t have time for this!”
The lieutenant took a deep breath and tried to tell his story as quickly and convincingly as possible.
“When did the armored vehicles leave the airport?” the colonel demanded.
“About ten to 15 minutes ago, I guess.” the lieutenant glanced at his digital watch. “I’m not sure, my watch seems to be broken, perhaps by the fall I took outside when your guards tackled me.”