Judy’s initial thoughts turned towards Orson Wells’ War of the Worlds broadcast, but she grudgingly realized this was reality — reality that might demand action very quickly. “Kids! Get your shoes on, fast. Mommy’s going to get some food and clothes, we’re going for a long ride in the car.”
The two youngest children shouted in unison, “Hooray!”
Judy turned away from the screen just as one of ABC’s national anchors broke in to say that the strange pods had been sighted north of Seattle, Washington, west of Portland, Oregon, in San Jose, California, in downtown Los Angeles, and just across the border from San Diego in Tijuana, Mexico.
Sally, the nine-year-old, had been moody since her father went away on active duty. She’d been watching the news and asked plaintively, “What are we going to do, Mommy?”
“Get out of town and go to a safe place.”
The Chinese terror rocket had accomplished its mission. In only one hour the entire calculus of the American effort to support Taiwan changed — just as it had changed the previous day when the defiant images of Lieutenant Colonel Alexander’s tank flashed across living room televisions. China correctly predicted that America would not retaliate against an “accidental” commercial rocket launch. Moreover, their war games correctly surmised the U.S. non-response once the rocket was understood to have a politico-military purpose. How could America strike back against a rocket carrying reentry vehicles stuffed with propaganda leaflets and harmless (if theatrical) purple smoke? (Even if the rocket’s Smart Dispenser carrier crashed down on the Hollywood Hills and ignited a brush fire — no one was killed after all.)
The genius of the Chinese assault was that it struck at the core of the American center of gravity — the people. Once Americans realized they were vulnerable to Chinese attack and that the Chinese meant to take Taiwan, even if it meant nuclear confrontation with America, American support for continuing the fight vanished. Even if the politicians and generals wanted to stay in the fight, they couldn’t. By sending a missile slashing down the West Coast, the Chinese concretely illustrated America’s complete helplessness in the face of nuclear attack. The threat of nuclear annihilation was no longer an abstract concept. America’s will to resist wilted. China would have its way with Taiwan and sometime in the future — maybe six months, maybe a year, maybe five years — China and America would either come to blows or America would acknowledge China’s place as the world’s leading superpower. A superpower far more willing to spill blood to achieve its aims than the tired, worn out, and once-proud nation called America.
The Chinese knew they had America on the run and now they aimed to ram home their advantage before the wily Americans could think their way out of the box they’d been slammed into. The Vice Premier for Foreign Affairs himself, Mo Waijiao, called Fu Zemin and relayed to him the good news. He instructed Fu to immediately call the Americans to the “negotiating” table and demand the unconditional surrender of U.S. forces on Taiwan. If the Americans agreed, the television footage of the august event would be broadcast all over the world. Within a day Japan, South Korea, Australia and any other nation of a mind to resist China’s rightful demands would be falling all over themselves to make friends with China. China would resume its place as Asia’s hegemon and obedient vassals instead of enemies soon would surround it.
The United States Senate had the House’s declaration of war resolution for all of half an hour when news of the West Coast terror rocket came in. The senior senator from the state of California immediately moved to table the resolution. A somber and uncharacteristically quiet Senate agreed to her motion on a vote of 84 to ten with two voting present. The declaration of war was dead.
Millions of people in Los Angeles — and in Seattle, Portland, San Francisco and San Diego where leaflets had fallen as well — came to the same decision at the same time: get away from the targeted urban areas. The news media didn’t make the situation any better. Stunning visual images coupled with grave “experts” predicting the imminent possibility of nuclear war sparked the largest, quickest exodus in the history of humanity.
In Los Angeles and Orange counties and inland, almost five million people got into three million vehicles and added to the tail end of the usual evening rush hour. Many more would soon follow as they saw images of their neighbors leaving town. The Los Angeles Basin experienced its worst traffic jam ever. Within half an hour gridlock set in with all routes leading out of the area packed with panicking people, listening to their radios and trying to out-smart and out-drive their fellow citizens.
Judy, her three children, and the family dog left the house in only 15 minutes. Judy packed a few gallons of water, some food, sunscreen, and a pistol (which she knew how to use better than her husband did — the legacy of fear from a nearly successful rape in a college parking lot many years before). Thankfully, the family always kept an earthquake survival kit. That, and Dan’s saved up old MREs that he always brought back from the field, gave the family enough food to last a week. Judy’s gas tank was mercifully full.
Judy drove east, taking the new toll road out of Tustin over the low-lying mountains that define the border between Orange County and Riverside County. She knew that if she could get out in front of the masses and stay out in front she’d be able to clear the knot of people who would inevitably try to flee the city.
For almost 15 minutes she made good time. Then the toll road hit the eastbound 91 Freeway. The freeway was choked (actually only slightly worse than for a usual evening rush hour — the freeway was far more congested a few miles to the west). At an average speed of ten miles per hour Judy calculated she’d make the Cajon Pass on the 15 Freeway in about six to seven hours — sometime after midnight. She prayed that’d be quick enough to clear the clot of city dwellers fleeing east from Los Angeles.
Judy knew not where the other drivers were heading, but she intended to go to Ft. Irwin, some 45 miles northeast of Barstow in the middle of the Mojave Desert. She remembered from a discussion she and Dan had during the last couple of years of the Cold War that Ft. Irwin was to be the rallying point for military personnel and their families in the event of a nuclear war or other catastrophic national emergency. She knew the military installation had other advantages in their present situation as well — it was remote, few people knew about it, and it would be safe from the chaos that would likely result from millions of displaced persons trying to survive in the wilderness.
29
Counterattack
On Saturday, Taiwan’s armed forces were shocked and pummeled into paralysis. On Sunday, reeling from the fast hitting Chinese blows, Taiwan struggled to call up its reserves and assess the situation. They knew PLA forces had already isolated Taipei by Sunday morning and, no doubt, would seek to tighten the ring around their capital. By Monday, the Taiwanese army was beginning to fill out its ranks with reservists and returning active duty soldiers who were finally overcoming their mystifying bout with the flu. Monday’s action was dedicated to mopping up the last of the PLA resistance in Kaohsiung and cordoning off the PLA beachheads in Tainan and Taichung. Taiwan’s light infantry reserve divisions were well suited for this task when reinforced with some artillery. By Monday evening, a rough parity existed around Tainan where the 15th and 16th Light Infantry Divisions (Reserve) had boxed in the Mainlanders. South of Taichung about 80 miles south of Taipei, the Taiwanese 14th Light Division (Reserve) blocked any southward PLA movement while rendering Taichung’s commercial airport and seaport unusable with artillery fire.