The Pacific Rim Collection

by Don Brown

  The skipper of USS Stark, Captain Glenn Brindle, had believed there was no danger to his ship, rationalizing that an Iraqi warplane, which had been seen, would not dare fire on an American warship. In 1987, that seemed to be a reasonable assumption. That was three years before the first Persian Gulf War broke out, before Sadaam Hussein invaded Kuwait, and before the first George Bush, speaking about that Iraqi invasion, declared, “This will not stand.”

  That miscalculation left the Stark defenseless in the attack. Two missiles were fired by the plane from twenty-two and fifteen miles away that weren’t detected until seconds before the first hit the ship, giving the Stark no time to respond. Only a miracle kept the Stark from sinking. But the loss of American life was significant.

  A captain is responsible for the protection of his ship and the safety of his crew.

  What if the Kee Lung tried a quick strike to take out the Vicksburg and blame it on the Chinese?

  What if this delay in response was an opportunity for the Kee Lung to bring her guns down on the Vicksburg? What if the next message from the Kee Lung was a lethal salvo from her cannon? Or an anti-ship missile?

  In an even fight on the high seas, Vicksburg would win, hands down. But even David felled Goliath with a lucky shot to the head.

  Vicksburg was at General Quarters, her crew ready for combat at a moment’s notice. But her guns were not trained on a specific target.

  “Weapons Officer.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Target both Mark 45 cannons right at the Kee Lung. Aim one on the bridge and one on the rear magazine rack. Order the gun crews to be ready to fire at my direction.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Presidential Palace

  Zhongzheng District

  Taipei City, Republic of China (Taiwan)

  approaching midnight

  From a distance, to an American visiting the island of Formosa for the first time, the ornate Renaissance-baroque building located at the heart of Taipei City’s bustling Zhongzheng District, the Presidential Palace of the Republic of China, might bear an odd resemblance to the main Smithsonian building located on the National Mall in Washington, DC. Both buildings feature an old tower rising into the air at the center of the building.

  Both towers are of similar height, about 200 feet high. Both buildings are flanked by horizontal wings stretching to left and to right from the central tower.

  When bright spotlights flood the Presidential Palace in the evening, an American familiar with Washington, when approaching the palace from Chongqing South Road, might think that the palace and the Smithsonian were built from the same blueprints.

  But in daylight, the sun reveals that the Presidential Palace, once known as the Governor General’s Palace and also as the Presidential Office Building, is larger and more ornate than the Smithsonian in Washington, its wings spreading twice as far on each side of the 196-foot central tower. The Japanese designed and built the building, with an ornate baroque flair, over a seven-year period, from 1912 to 1919, at a time when Japan still exercised colonial rule over Taiwan. Taiwan renamed it the “Presidential Palace” in 1950, when Chiang Kai-shek became president in exile of China and made his headquarters there.

  Unlike the Zhongnanhai Compound in Beijing, which is surrounded by secrecy and by walls, here in Taipei City’s vibrant Zhongzheng District, there were no secrets about where the president of the republic lives and works. Anyone could drive straight up Chongqing South Road almost to the gates of the Presidential Palace, within a few feet of the president’s workspace. Such was the difference between a constitutional republic and a Communist dictatorship.

  Although the Presidential Palace in Taipei City normally was far more open and visible than the secret buildings behind the walls of Zhongnanhai, for the last three nights, the streets and grounds surrounding the palace had been a virtual armed camp.

  War fever now swept this island nation, which is about the size of Maryland and Delaware combined—245 miles long and 89 miles at its widest point. The attack on Itu Aba had become the most dangerous crisis threatening Taiwan since the Chinese Civil War, when in 1950 the ROC government was forced off the mainland and relocated on Taiwan.

  President Lu Yen-hsun, as commander in chief of the armed forces of the Republic of China on Taiwan, was preparing for a possible invasion by Communist forces from the mainland. He had raised the military readiness to the highest alert level.

  For Lu and for a number of senior members in the Legislative Yuan—the ROC Parliament—and for most of the nationalist Chinese living on Taiwan, the Communist government in Beijing, by attacking sovereign ROC territory on Itu Aba, had committed an act of war. Taiwan’s main newspaper, the Taipei Times, called the attack “Taiwan’s Pearl Harbor” and, in an obvious attempt to garner British sympathies, likened it to Argentina’s attack against the British-controlled Falkland Islands.

  Taiwan’s war cabinet, a term used by Lu to refer to the group, was meeting for the third consecutive night in emergency session in the long ornate cabinet conference room. An hour ago, Taiwan had received a back-channel communiqué from the United States notifying it, as a “courtesy,” of America’s intentions to seize the PRC freighter Shemnong.

  The president was refereeing a sharp disagreement between his minister of national defense, Shen Tao-Ming, and his minister of foreign affairs, Mark Huang, on the proposed response to America’s request or, as Shen called it, the Americans’ “demand” for the Shemnong.

  Exhausted, Lu turned his back on his colleagues and looked out on the flashing collage of white, red, and green lights, of lit skyscrapers, of bustling Taipei traffic even this late, just before midnight. He squinted, hoping that the blur of lights would breathe vitality into his tired eyes. So far, no luck.

  Defense Minister Shen said, “Mister President, that freighter carries arms headed for Itu Aba that would prove deadly when we try to retake the island. Our Navy has its hands full worrying about the Communist aircraft carrier. We cannot risk those weapons falling into the hands of the Communists. We must maintain control of the freighter ourselves.”

  “I disagree!” In the reflection of the glass, Lu saw the minister of foreign affairs throw up his hands. “Mister President, it is important, in a crisis like this, to maintain close diplomatic ties with the Americans.”

  “Diplomatic ties?” the defense minister said. “May I remind my colleague that the Americans do not even maintain an embassy here in Taipei. Even Belize and Nicaragua have embassies here. But not America! They don’t wish to offend the Communists in Beijing.”

  Defense Minister Shen had touched on a sensitive area. America’s decision to move its embassy from Taipei to Beijing in the 1970s remained a hot-button issue.

  The president turned around just as Foreign Minister Mark Huang shot back with, “And you can also remember, Minister, that the same Americans sold our Air Force those F-16 fighter jets and sold our Navy those Oliver Hazard Perry – class frigates that keep the Communists from crossing the Taiwan Strait! In fact, the very ship that captured the freighter Shemnong, the Kee Lung, was sold to our Navy by the United States Navy!”

  “Colleague,” the defense minister said, “no one disputes that America was helpful in the past. But beginning in 2008, they became progressively unreliable with their allies. After helping Britain in the Falklands War in the 1980s, in 2011 they reversed themselves and joined the Organization of American States, the OAS, in opposing the British for their occupation of the Falklands. President Obama even removed a bust of Churchill from the White House, yet another slap to the British. In 2011, they agreed to give the Russians sensitive information about British Trident nuclear submarines without the Brits’ knowledge or permission. Twice they stabbed their best ally in the back. And they’ve tried ramming a Palestinian state right down Israel’s throat, on sovereign Israeli territory. And Israel was their most loyal ally in the Middle East. Can we trust them that these weapons will not wind up in the hands of PR
C forces?”

  The president scratched his chin. His defense minister did have a point. Vice President Feng Zongren and General Lien Chan, two of the other three participants in this midnight meeting, sat at opposite ends of the long table, exchanging glances and taking notes on legal pads.

  The fifth and final participant in the meeting, Admiral Wong Lu-Chen, commander in chief of the ROC Navy, sat at the other end of the table in summer dress white uniform, not saying anything, but nodding his head in agreement with the comments of his immediate boss, the minister of defense.

  President Lu raised a finger, just as Foreign Minister Huang flashed a contorted expression to signal that he had another word for the group. The president hesitated. “Minister Huang? You have something else to add?”

  “Yes, Mister President.” This time, Huang spoke in softer tones.

  “Gentlemen, my colleague the defense minister makes some points on which we can all agree. First, it would be disastrous for the armaments on board the Shemnong to fall into the hands of the Communists on Itu Aba. Surely, more of our Marines would die trying to retake the island if that happens.

  “Second, it is true that the US administration took some diplomatic positions that seemed contrary to the best interests of Great Britain and Israel, as the defense minister suggests. But I would remind everyone that these aberrations occurred under a different administration. There is no reason to believe that President Surber would take a similar approach by turning his back on American allies. I say we let the Americans have the Shemnong.”

  All eyes shifted back to the president. Except the defense minister, who was grimacing and shaking his head. “Defense Minister, is there anything you wish to add?” the president said.

  The defense minister stood up. “It is true that the US shift in position on Britain occurred in the Obama administration, as the foreign minister said. However, the shift against Israel started under George W. Bush, and both Obama and Bush were pushing this Palestinian state idea on America’s closest ally in the region.

  “Now,” he said, “they’re stepping in and demanding that we turn over this freighter full of weapons that were to be used against us. I don’t trust them to keep the weapons out of PRC hands. What happens if the PRC threatens to dump all those American Treasury bonds they’ve bought? And they could. Think of the financial crisis that would create. Does anyone think that Douglas Surber would not buckle under that type of pressure?”

  The president realized they were no closer to a decision on the Shemnong than they were when they started. “Very well, Defense Minister Shen. The foreign minister has made his recommendation.” Lu glanced over at Mark Huang, then back at Shen. “What recommendations would you have for me, Defense Minister Shen?”

  Shen sat down. “The first recommendation I have, Mister President,” he continued in a softer tone, “is that we protect the Kee Lung and give her the ability to defend herself.”

  “Of course the Kee Lung has the authorization to defend herself.” The president felt defensive, as if the defense minister had taken an underhanded shot at his performance as commander in chief. “She’s been ordered, on my orders as a matter of fact, to sink any PRC vessel that threatens her. My orders also are for the Kee Lung and all ROC warships in the region to intercept PRC warships and supply ships headed to Itu Aba. But you already know this. If you are insinuating that I have not issued adequate orders as commander in chief for our fleet to protect itself, just let me say that I am not happy about such an insinuation.”

  The defense minister nodded. “I meant no disrespect by the comment, nor do I in any way call into question your orders to the fleet. But I wasn’t talking about the ability to defend herself from the PRC. Of course she has that ability.”

  The president scratched the back of his head. “You leave me confused, Minister. Do you believe the Vietnamese may attempt to take advantage of the situation and get involved? Perhaps while we are distracted with the Chinese, Vietnam may try to seize ROC territory in the Spratlys?”

  Shen shook his head. “Sir, I meant that we should give Kee Lung the authority to defend herself against the Americans.”

  “The Americans?” the foreign affairs minister shouted. “Minister, are you suggesting that the Americans might be a threat to ROC naval forces operating in the area?”

  “Hmph,” Shen snorted. “Remember this, my friend. The US Navy has sent one of its most powerful cruisers, the USS Vicksburg, to seize the Shemnong. But it was our warship, the Kee Lung, that captured the Shemnong. If we decide that we do not wish to turn over the Shemnong as the Americans have demanded, then you can bet that the Vicksburg is not going to play a simple little game of patty-cake.”

  Nods of agreement from Vice President Feng, General Lien, and Admiral Wong. The consensus appeared to be four against one, with the vice president, the two high-ranking military officers, and the defense minister pitted against the diplomat.

  The president looked at the head nodders. “I take it you all think the Americans would actually attack our ship?” His eyes bored into the chief of staff. “General?”

  “Permission to speak frankly, Mister President?”

  “Of course, General.”

  “I agree with the defense minister. This could be a dangerous situation for the Kee Lung.” He exchanged glances with the admiral. “That is, sir, unless you accede to the Americans’ demands, at which point, our worries would shift from having the Americans attack our ship, to having those weapons fall into Communist hands to be used against our Marines retaking the island. I share the defense minister’s concerns that while Douglas Surber may mean well, he may succumb to economic blackmail by the Communists if they threaten to unload bonds.”

  President Lu looked at Admiral Wong. “Admiral, the Kee Lung is under your command. Do you believe that she is in danger, not just from the PLA Navy but also from the US Navy?”

  The admiral nodded. “Mister President, as a flag officer of the ROC Navy, I must always put myself in the position of my opponent. That is what we do during war games as we conduct military exercises to anticipate the moves of our opponents.” The admiral stopped for a moment. “As you know, like most of us here, I also have a background with the Americans, having studied as a foreign officer for one year at their Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island. I have studied their wartime commanders, their naval commanders, and I know their doctrine. They are diplomatic on one hand, yet forceful on the other.

  “Do I believe their captain has been instructed to take out the Kee Lung if we do not cooperate?” He paused. “Absolutely. Therefore, Mister President, if your orders are to resist turning over the Shemnong, and I would urge you to resist turning her over, then I recommend, reluctantly, that we must order the captain of the Kee Lung to take out the Vicksburg.”

  “Admiral!” the foreign minister snapped.

  “Foreign minister, sir,” Admiral Wong replied, “I am certain that this order has already been given to the captain of the Vicksburg. If we do not act, we will either lose the Kee Lung and her crew or more Marines will die if the Americans turn those weapons over to the PRC forces. And remember, sir, with respect, the Americans are interested in the dead babies on board that ship. They aren’t interested in the weapons. And why should they care who controls the Spratlys? The Spratlys are important to us. They are not important to the Americans and not part of America’s strategic interest. Not when the PRC could pull the plug on bonds it has bought to finance America’s debt.” He paused and looked at everyone in the room, then said, “That is my recommendation, Mister President.”

  The Taiwanese president looked around the table and felt the hot stares boring into his soul. The time for discussion was over. The weight of the office had settled on his shoulders. Never had he felt so lonely.

  He rose again, hoping, somehow, to delay the moment of decision, for this was a decision that could forever change Taiwan’s relationship with the country that had supported it most for all of its years,
the United States of America.

  Lu again walked to the window and looked out at the Taipei skyline.

  In the years since the nationalist government had come in exile from the mainland, the vibrant Taiwanese capital had flourished, earning the proud nickname “Skyscraper City.”

  Off in the distance, amidst a seabed of spotlights and street lights and window lights and streaking white car lights rushing along wide boulevards, the crown jewel of free Chinese engineering, the skyscraper known as “Taipei 101,” loomed as a tower of proud independence into the star-spangled midnight sky.

  Reaching upward over 1,600 feet into the heavens, Taipei 101 claimed the title of the “world’s tallest building” for a six-year period from 2004 to 2010, when it was eclipsed by the immediately bankrupt 2,700-foot monstrosity in Dubai known as Burj Khalifa.

  Still, Taipei 101 loomed higher than anything either in the People’s Republic or the United States, a thought which, in a strange way, reassured the president that his small country had the wherewithal to go toe-to-toe with either of these two military giants in this escalating crisis in the South China Sea.

  Still, it seemed odd and almost surreal that in such a modern age, Taiwan, which, along with South Korea, Singapore, and Hong Kong, had been branded one of the “Four Asian Tigers” for her highly developed economic prowess, was now poised on the verge of war.

  Lu turned and faced his immediate underlings.

  “Gentlemen, this crisis was thrust upon us. We did not ask for it. But if we do nothing and allow Itu Aba to remain in Communist hands, then all of our careers are over.” He glanced at his minister of defense and saw heads nodding in agreement. “All of us, gentlemen”—he shook his fist in the air—”we are the heirs to the dream of restoring the great Republic of China to her true territorial home on the mainland. We are the sons of Chiang Kai-shek, and the dream will either live with us or it will die, here … with us.” Lu paused. “As for me, I will not allow myself to become Taiwan’s Neville Chamberlain.”