The mood in the Situation Room was somber. CNN had just broadcast to the world images of an American tank utterly destroying several Chinese armored vehicles. The speed and violence of the action was overwhelming. The room was silent. When the phone rang, several people, including the President, jumped. Someone handed the phone to Lindley, whispering in the key advisor’s ear as he did so.
“Mr. President, it’s Han Wudi, the President of China on the line. He has an interpreter.” The President nodded to Lindley and pointed at the speaker box.
Someone turned down the TV. CNN had lost the live signal from Taiwan and was now playing the recent military footage over again.
An angry Chinese voice came over the speaker box. Donna listened carefully, understanding every word. The Chairman of the Communist Party of the People’s Republic of China was talking down to the leader of the free world. This is not a good sign, Donna thought.
The translator began, “I demand that American forces illegally on sovereign Chinese soil immediately surrender. Anything less is unacceptable. Do you understand?”
The President was silent. His gaze shifted from the speaker box to the war scenes on TV. The M1, Old Glory snapping in the breeze above the tank, dispatched another enemy tank in the third repeat of the 90-second segment.
More angry words spat forth from the box. Donna’s eyebrows arched. Chairman Han was in a rage. The translator enthusiastically intoned, “China demands the immediate unconditional surrender of American forces illegally interfering in our domestic affairs. You will pay a stiff price for continued resistance!”
The President heard his Chinese counterpart. As the savvy leader of a democratic republic, he knew that he faced a far greater menace than an incensed Chinese dictator: the American public. Were he to order a surrender now after the images on CNN of the American tank victoriously destroying Chinese armor, he’d be run out of office and his hand-picked successor defeated at the polls in half a year. “Mr. President,” he said slowly to the Chinese leader, “Let me get back to you on that.” And very deliberately, he hung up the phone.
Bob Lindley’s eyes were as round as saucers.
Donna smiled approvingly from behind her clasped hands.
Ten minutes later the first focus group results came in followed quickly by the White House polling unit’s InstaPoll numbers: the American people strongly supported military action against China by 73 % to 19 % with 8 % undecided. Donna shook her head. I wonder what the numbers would have been if the American tank was destroyed on the first shot?
Lieutenant Colonel Dan Alexander did a quick 360-degree scan using the TIS on three-power. He scanned again using his eyes from under the safety of the commander’s hatch. Nothing was visible except the burning hulks of his enemy. “Jones, cross-level some ammo ASAP! I’m going to have a quick look around.”
Alexander pulled his hatch down to the locking position then swung it open on its thick hinge.
The loader immediately got to work taking rounds from the ammo compartment behind the gunner (where they were very hard to get to in combat) and transferring them to the compartment he just took the six rounds from a couple of minutes before.
Alexander hopped off the tank and swept his gaze from building to building, looking for any of his Task Force Grizzly soldiers. He saw the news reporter’s small satellite communications unit with its stubby omnidirectional antenna still on the ground near his tank. The tanker saw a patch of color next to a Boeing 737 landing gear assembly—there they are. He walked towards a small jet aircraft that was parked on the taxiway about 50 meters away. “You guys all right?”
Edward Wong stepped out from behind the jet’s landing gear, “Yes. I believe we are. Is it safe?”
Alexander seemed strangely calmed by the recent action, “No, I expect we just destroyed their forward security element. In a few minutes I would expect many, many more — and artillery. You should find overhead cover right now. You won’t last two seconds out here when the artillery starts falling.”
“Thank you. We will seek shelter. What will you do?”
“Keep fighting, stay alive. I have nowhere else to go. Any help or evacuation will come through this airport.” Alexander paused, “Are you still filming?”
“Yes, we are remoting our signal to the commo box. My cameraman says we just reestablished our connection, although I still can’t hear CNN headquarters.” The reporter, realizing he had fallen out of character during the fighting straightened himself and said, “This is Edward Wong with CNN. You have just seen an amazing sight as the American Army here in Taiwan destroyed about ten enemy tanks in less than two minutes. You can see the tanks burning brightly in the background.”
Seeing the reporter had recovered enough of his senses to function, Alexander waved and said, “God bless America! I love you honey!” He turned and walked back to Traveller. He wished he could have known for sure that the signal was getting out. He constantly scanned the north and east sides of the airport. Alexander knew his troops were probably safe. He told everyone except the scouts to stay inside and cover the tank’s rear, keeping any infantry off the more vulnerable backside of the tank. He heard one of his Humvees rev up. A second later it appeared from under an overhang next to the passenger terminal and sped up to him. “Everyone okay?” Alexander yelled.
“Hoo-Wah!” First Lieutenant Robby Mundell, the scout platoon leader, grunted cheerfully. He was a recent addition to the California Army National Guard from the great state of Texas. He worked for the federal government as a DEA agent when he wasn’t practicing being a soldier on the weekends (his job transferred him out to California half a year ago). “Sir, you done opened up a Texas-sized can of whoop-ass on the enemy bastards!”
Alexander laughed, then smacked the young officer playfully on the side of his helmet.
“Hey, sir, look what someone gave us in the terminal.” The lieutenant held up a pair of small brightly colored plastic two-way radios, “They’re a pair of those little Motorola radios like we used during AT (Annual Training). They work fine. I bet we could communicate a mile or two away with these!”
Alexander smiled and shook his head approvingly at the scout platoon leader, “Looks like you’re in business again, trooper.” He reached out and took one of the radios. “Mundell, take your skinny ass out there and check on your other vehicle, I saw them pop a star cluster at first contact. Once you find them, go reestablish contact with the enemy and report back. Don’t be a hero — we aren’t getting any replacements anytime soon. Take some of the MPs with you. I expect that we’ll see about a company of tanks and a battalion of ‘mech’ backed up by some self-propelled artillery in about five to ten minutes. I hope that will be all the enemy brings with them. We don’t have any more ammo other than what we have on board. If more come and we run dry, I want you to take charge of the advance party and move out to Yangminshan Park as we previously planned.”
Mundell was suddenly serious, “Yes sir. That was really good shootin’ you did.” He turned to his driver, “Let’s go!”
Alexander watched the three scouts roar off in their Humvee — the lieutenant, his driver, and the .50 caliber machine gunner suspended from a webbed seat of nylon secured to the roll cage.
Back at the White House the Situation Room was filled with silent men and one woman. Most had conflicting emotions. On one hand, the Americans did very well against the Chinese on national, no international television — on the other hand, the Americans did well against the Chinese. This presented the White House with a huge problem. The Chinese wanted the Americans out of the way. They wanted free reign in Taiwan.