The Republic of China navy was reduced to a fraction of its pre-war strength. The ROC air force struggled to achieve even local air superiority for minutes at a time. The ROC high command knew that every day that went by was another day the much larger PLA would get stronger in relation to their own rapidly mobilizing forces. Further, for years Taiwan’s defense plans called for defeating the enemy at the beaches, then throwing him back into the sea with a swift counterattack before China’s numerical superiority could grind the Taiwanese to dust. If there was to be any hope of success (especially now that America appeared to be abandoning its democratic ally) it would have to come within a day or two.
The army leadership outside of Taipei (communications with the capital was still sporadic due to Chinese radio signal jamming) decided on Tuesday morning to launch a counterattack on Wednesday. The counterattack would have three phases.
During phase one, the Taiwanese units in the field south of Taipei would halt their retreat and pull themselves into well-defended perimeters, drawing supplies from the ample quantities of bunkered ammunition, fuel, and food. These forces would pound the ports of Keelung and Taichung. They would employ artillery and rocket fire to make Chiang Kai-Shek International unusable. While the PLA could still bring troops and supplies ashore on the beach to the west of CKS airport, the quantities lifted would be far less than if they had full use of Taiwan’s modern transportation facilities. From their battle positions the Taiwanese could also mount a series of aggressive reconnaissance in force actions designed to gain more information about their enemy while keeping him off balance.
Phase two of the counterattack would consist of marshaling all available mechanized infantry and armor forces for a break through at the lightly held passes 12 and 15 miles to the east of Taichung. This would have to happen on Wednesday night (using Taiwan’s superior night vision capability to advantage over the Chinese).
Moving at night (and perhaps during the day as well if the cloud cover remained low and thick) the ROC counterattack would gather momentum and strength, then culminate in phase three on Friday night with a battle to pierce the PLA’s ring around Taipei. The ROC generals hoped to draw the Mainlanders into a decisive engagement, destroy the enemy’s armored forces, then lift the siege of the capital.
The plan had no margin of error and only one armored brigade in reserve (the 4th, way down in Kaohsiung — and it would no doubt be subjected to aerial interdiction during its entire journey north). Unfortunately, it was the only plan the Taiwanese generals had that could seize the initiative from the Mainlanders and win the war. Remaining on the defensive would be prudent, but it would result in a slow and certain death for Asia’s newest democracy.
Fu Zemin read the dispatch from Beijing with unbridled glee over his morning tea. His trust in the Party leadership had never been stronger. Their bold and imaginative strike at America’s will to fight was as inspirational as it was effective. Most importantly, the mission’s success would now ensure that the struggle between China and its wayward province would remain free of outside interference. With the war going very well in the north, it would only be a matter of time before the combined forces of the PLA, the PLAAF, the PLAN and the PAP snuffed out the last of the counterrevolutionary forces on Taiwan.
Still, Fu had the more immediate concern of what to do with the American negotiators. Beijing still wanted a very public surrender — and now the price the Americans would pay for their insolence would be redoubled. Instead of being allowed to surrender their arms and leave Taiwan under an American flag, the American soldiers would now be required to surrender to a “neutral” third party: the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.
Fu moved to summon Major General Wei to his office. He would conclude the negotiations by noon and be done with it. He was about to shout for one of the junior officers to fetch Wei when he heard the unmistakable crump, crump, crump of falling artillery in the distance. He was annoyed that pockets of resistance were still so close the airport as to require the use of artillery to root them out. A deafening blast suddenly shook his world, punching the air out of his lungs and cutting the lights. The next thing Fu realized he was on his butt underneath his thick oak desk with a terrible ringing in his ears.
In the Tanshui Ho River valley a few miles south of the Shihmen Reservoir some 35 miles south southeast of CKS International, a little known ROC artillery unit rapidly ran their missile launcher back into the tunnel carved deeply into the side of the ridge. A few moments before they had launched a liquid-fueled Ching Feng missile. The missile, with a range of 70 miles, was a very weak counter to the hundreds of Chinese solid-fueled missiles across the Strait. Based loosely on the obsolete U.S. Lance short-range ballistic missile, the Taiwanese built only 20 of them in the mid-1980s, then scrapped the program under strong U.S. and Chinese opposition. While the Taiwanese built no more missiles, they did keep the ones they already had. Over time the missiles’ guidance system was improved — adding GPS terminal guidance made the missiles accurate to within 50 meters.
The ROC army was surprised that the PLA gave them such a lucrative target. All the tactical units from the five group army headquarters on down to the regimental command posts had been carefully hidden and constantly moved during the previous three days of fighting. The overall PLA headquarters for the Taiwanese operation, however, remained fixed at CKS International Airport. Buried deep within the modern concrete and steel terminal building the Chinese must have figured they were safe from anything in Taiwan’s arsenal — perhaps they were overconfident from the spotty performance of their adversaries over the last few days. In any event, the Ching Feng’s large high explosive warhead was a perfect bunker buster. If the PLA offered such a target to the Taiwanese again, they’d gladly strike at it.
Donna slept at least five hours. Some of the jet lag was shaken out of her system and she began to forage for some coffee in her room. Finding none, she decided to call room service. There was no reply. She debated walking down to the hotel restaurant.
Donna noted that mainly older men and a few women served the thinly staffed hotel. She figured they were dragooned into service from the surrounding neighborhood (accounting for the complete lack of military-age men at the hotel). The hotel was crawling with People’s Armed Police and a few junior-grade officers. Certainly all of these people are getting something to eat somewhere…
She was about to walk down to the hotel restaurant when she heard the muffled sound of artillery fire a few miles away. Mildly surprised that the Chinese put her into a room that looked down upon the airport, she carefully drew back the heavy curtain and surveyed the rainy scene. Wherever the artillery had exploded she couldn’t see. All this rain would suppress clouds of dust and smoke from the bursts anyway.
Without warning a giant explosion bloomed like a deadly orange flower from atop the passenger terminal. She jumped away from her window seconds before the shock wave hit the building. Her window shook but remained intact. She thought she could hear the sound of glass breaking elsewhere. So, the Taiwanese still have teeth. I better call home. Donna took the satellite phone from her purse then walked back to the window to get better reception. She’d figured the office would be very interested in the latest action around the airport…