“Yes, yes, of course I have.” Fu also tried not to act impatient.
“Well the landings of the 14th Group Army in Kaohsiung are critical to our success. Even if only two regiments out of the ten we have assigned to that attack make it, they will serve to tie down a regular infantry division, a reserve infantry division, and a tank brigade. Taipei can ill-afford to miss these forces during the coming key battle. Further, we have done so well elsewhere I can now afford to release some of my reserves. The 202nd Air Mobile Division is one of two special purpose, quick reaction divisions at my disposal. Using one to ensure success in the south is a small price to pay. And, now, as you say, additional power at this juncture may force the Americans to surrender. That alone would be a strategic victory far in excess of any lives lost to achieve it.”
Fu looked impassive. He refused to endorse or oppose the decision.
“Comrade Fu,” Deng smiled like a father preparing to tell a story about his only son, “Have you heard about the new Air Mobile Divisions?”
“No general. I would assume they are like their American counterpart except that I didn’t think we yet had enough helicopters in our inventory to lift an entire division.” Fu was now curious. Deng now tightly held Fu’s interest.
“Well, comrade, let me tell you…”
It was 1600 hours. The Marines had been in Taiwan for the better part of one civilian workday. During that time, the Marines killed or captured six battalions of infantry totaling 6,000 men while their Navy teammates sunk or scattered another six battalions. Not bad for a day’s work where the highest paid among them received about $70,000 per year in pay and benefits. Colonel Flint cocked his head, I wonder what they’d have to pay the CEO of a Fortune 500 company to kill, maim or capture 6,000 men?
Flint was flying out in his UH-1N Huey command and control chopper to inspect the sunken freighter in Kaohsiung Harbor, then visit the Marine recon elements up in Shousan Park. The SEAL team’s scouting a few hours before had uncovered a fascinating new twist on the Trojan Horse theme. Flint grudgingly admired the Chinese for their inventiveness. If it wasn’t for blind luck, a PLA regiment would own the harbor right now. As it was, only a battalion made it off the ship before it was sunk—God rest Captain Hill’s soul—and that battalion, bloodied and demoralized by the sudden loss of their comrades, surrendered to a dozen surprised SEALs and a couple of bemused Whiskey Cobra gunship pilots.
Flint’s Huey swooped low over the harbor. Some movement to the left out of the overcast afternoon sky caught Flint’s attention, “What the hell is that,” Flint said to no one in particular, stabbing his finger at the western horizon out of the open side door of the helicopter.
Major Ramirez scratched the back of his neck under his fiberglass CVC helmet. Usually quick with an answer, he said, “It looks like a big flock of birds…” Rez squinted, “Is that more over there?”
Flint addressed the pilot over the mike attached to his CVC helmet. “Take us up a bit and fly closer to that,” he pointed.
Rez strained to see, then keyed his mike, “They’re not birds.”
The helicopter rose another 100 feet and edged west towards Chichin Island.
Flint was squinting too, “They’re too small and too slow to be fighters or helicopters…”
Rez’s voice cracked like a teenager’s, “Hell, they’re hang gliders. Motorized hang gliders!” Rez was amazed, not yet processing the military importance of what he was seeing.
Flint put out a net call designed to alert all Marines and even the now beached Curtis Wilbur and the Germantown to the new threat. Commander Meade beached his ship, Flint thought, he would have made a great Marine.
“Attention all Bulldog elements, all Bulldog elements. We are observing some motorized hang gliders coming in from the west. They are probably carrying light infantry. Estimated strength is two groups of ten to 15 gliders. They look like they can only carry one or two men…” Flint was about to request an acknowledgment of his transmission when he observed the low gray fog in the distance begin to resolve itself in to tiny specks. Flint keyed off the mike.
“Holy…” Ramirez muttered from behind his binoculars. He switched the intercom on and smacked Flint in the arm, “Sir, that fog bank over there is… What I mean is that…” The magnitude of what Rez was seeing prevented an easy description, “Damn it sir, it looks like the whole friggen PLA is riding in on motorized hang gliders. Can they do that?” Rez knew the question was silly and rhetorical. Rez remembered a small media report in 1999 or 2000 about the Chinese holding a military exercise in Tibet using motorized hang gliders, GPS devices and special communications equipment. He shrugged it off as a typically weird report from China. Certainly motorized hang gliders had no large-scale military utility.
Of course, that’s what the Western Allies thought in May 1940, just before German paratroopers conducted a massive vertical envelopment of Holland and executed the surprise capture of a formidable fortification in Belgium. Up to that time, the German (and Soviet Russian) preoccupation with sport parachute and glider clubs was deemed by some a healthy outlet for warrior-like impulses. Certainly, the experts thought, men dropped by parachute could do nothing more than serve as spies, scouts, or harassment forces. Having lost the last war, the Germans felt compelled to innovate. They proved the experts wrong.
After a few centuries of Western and Japanese domination, the Chinese similarly felt compelled to innovate. They knew it would be hopeless, at least in the short term, to match America and Japan dollar-for-dollar with high-tech equipment. But, if one was willing to accept something less than the state-of-the-art in the pursuit of military capabilities, then arriving at the use of motorized hang gliders in combat was a natural for the Chinese.
The Chinese recognized the utility of vertical envelopment. For years they maintained three airborne divisions (with plans to expand the force to nine), although they lacked the lift to send all three into combat at once (at least without pressing the civilian air fleet into service). Unfortunately, airborne forces could be used safely only when the enemy was not capable of downing a large number of them before they made it to the drop zone. For this reason, the Chinese became intrigued with the American concept of the airmobile division (first employed against China’s neighbor, Vietnam, in the mid-60s). Fielding enough helicopters to move an entire division, then training the division to fly and fight as a unit would be time consuming and expensive. Helicopters were also vulnerable to being shot down or bombed at their bases.
After years of thought and internal debate, the PLA decided on a third course in addition to the traditional airborne divisions. This choice was neither airborne nor strictly air mobile — they decided to create two divisions of motorized hang glider troops.
Each motorized hang glider cost the Chinese $500 to produce (the equivalent model sold for $10,000 retail in America). A few tubes of aluminum, some cable, some nylon and a motor-scooter motor and presto — a machine capable of carrying up to two soldiers 250 kilometers (150 miles) at a speed of 120 KPH (75 MPH) — fast enough to overcome the current 18 KPH headwinds in the Strait caused by the typhoon far to the south, but not fast enough to fly safely in rough weather.