by Don Brown
“My fellow Americans and to our friends around the world. We have chosen these hallowed grounds to announce the terms of this historic agreement as a solemn reminder of the costs of war, and as a reminder that peace and life … precious life … must be preserved over war and death.
“This is a place where, in the words of President Abraham Lincoln, so many ‘have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of Freedom.’
“We have also chosen these hallowed grounds because many of the Americans buried here fought alongside the sons of China and the sons of Taiwan in liberating the Pacific from the brutal and tyrannical hand of Japanese imperialism in World War II.
“America and the two Chinas have joined hands together in the past, and there’s no reason that we should not join hands now and in the future.
“Today, we are here to announce the Honolulu Accords between the US, China, and Taiwan, signed earlier today at the governor’s palace here in Honolulu.
“The terms agreed to by the parties are these:
“China has arrested and will turn over for international prosecution members of the Qinzhou Medical Group, the group responsible for the murder of over two thousand baby girls, whose bodies we found on the freighter Shemnong.
“China will join the world in working to eliminate the practice of killing babies as a form of population control and will make the practice of selling deceased babies on the international markets illegal.
“China will allow US and UN monitors to monitor the practices within that country regarding the treatment of children.
“China will give full diplomatic status and recognition to the Republic of China located on Taiwan and will no longer insist upon a ‘One China’ policy.
“The United States will give full diplomatic recognition to Taiwan, will immediately open an embassy there, and will enter a mutual defense pact with that country.
“China will administer Itu Aba Island, and China and Taiwan will share equally in all natural gas extracted from the South China Sea within a fifty-mile radius of the island.”
Surber looked up from his notes and out at the crowd of press members, camera crews, and dignitaries. “Within the hallowed grounds of this beautiful place are the stories of those buried here, some who are known, like the great war correspondent Ernie Pyle, or Hank Hansen, one of the Marines who first raised the American flag over Iwo Jima. And there are many others whose actions are just as heroic, but whose names we will never know.
“But whether we know their names or not, we hear them today, all of them, calling from the graves and reminding us that peace is preferable to war, and that life, and especially the lives of innocent children, must be protected at all costs.
“May God bless the Republic of China, God bless the People’s Republic of China, and God bless America.”
EPILOGUE
Headquarters
United States Pacific Command
Pearl Harbor
one hour later
Decked out sharply in summer white uniforms, high-ranking naval officers, the brain trust of the United States Pacific Command, stood at parade rest under sunny skies in a warm afternoon breeze.
Behind the senior officers stood ten rows of junior officers and enlisted men, awaiting commencement of the festivities.
Twelve uniformed policemen riding motorcycles rumbled in pairs into the circular driveway in front of CINCPAC headquarters, followed by three Honolulu PD vehicles, followed by two black Suburbans with tinted windows.
The black Cadillac limousine following the second Suburban flew two flags on its hood. The flag on the right side of the hood was the flag of the United States of America. The navy blue flag on the left had on it an embroidered seal of the president of the United States.
Men in black suits and wearing dark shades jogged alongside the limousine, and when the limo rolled to a stop in front of the entrance, a Marine sergeant stepped forward and opened the back door.
“Attention on deck!” Every sailor and Marine snapped to erect attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the president of the United States.”
The US Navy band played “Ruffles and Flourishes” as the president stepped out of the limo, then transitioned into “Hail to the Chief.” A crowd of several hundred civilians greeted him with enthusiastic applause. The president exchanged salutes with the base commander and several other high-ranking officers standing near the podium that had been set up.
Before the band had finished and as the Marine honor guard cracked off its twenty-one-gun salute, the president stepped to the podium. His eyes seemed to glance at each and every sailor and Marine, and when the Navy band finished playing, he broke into a big smile.
“Admiral Gardner. Captain Eleya. Thank you for having me at Pearl Harbor today. I’ve come to express my appreciation to all of you. But before I get into my remarks, I see there’s some personal business I need to attend to.” He broke into another big smile. “I’ll be right back.”
The president stepped away from the podium and walked through the first row of officers, saying, “Excuse me, gentlemen.”
Then he barked an order to an officer in the second row. “Drop that salute and give your daddy a big hug!”
She fell into his arms, unable to contain the tears.
“How are you, Steph?”
“I’m just great, Daddy. Now … I’m great.”
“How’s the arm?”
“Still sore. They got the bullet out. And I took out the guy who shot me. You taught me well, Daddy.”
He stepped back and looked into her eyes. “That’s my girl.”
“Daddy, I want you to meet Lieutenant Commanders Gunner McCormick and Fred Jeter. Gunner led the takeover of the ship. He had the situation under control even before the SEALs arrived. And Dr. Jeter was on the Shemnong. They flew him off the Shemnong, and he performed emergency surgery to remove the bullet.”
The president looked at Gunner and Fred, standing to the left and right of Stephanie. He shook their hands. “Gentlemen, I’m grateful to both of you.”
Her tears started again, and to hide them, Stephanie threw her arms around him once more. “I’m so proud of you, Daddy. You stood for life. You did the right thing.”
He kissed her on the cheek and then the forehead.
“I love you, Steph. Welcome home.”
BACKGROUND OF THE NOVEL
THE RISE OF COMMUNISM IN CHINA
When civil war first erupted in China in the early twentieth century, more than ten years had passed since the start of the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia. In both conflicts, in Russia and in China, massive amounts of blood would be spilled by thousands over the issue of Communism.
But unlike the Bolshevik Revolution, which was quick and decisive, the civil war in China was long and drawn out. The first period of the war started in 1927 and raged for ten years to a bloody stalemate in 1937.
When war broke out with Japan in 1937, the Chinese suspended their infighting and unified to fight the Japanese in yet another war that would last for nine years.
But after World War II ended, the Chinese civil war reignited in 1946. American-backed nationalists, led by General Chiang Kai-shek, battled power-hungry Communist rebels, led by Mao Zedong and backed by the Soviet Union.
As the fighting wore on, Chiang Kai-shek lost power and Communist rebels asserted control.
On October 1, 1949, Mao Zedong declared the establishment of the Communist People’s Republic of China, with its capital at Beijing.
By December of 1949, Chiang Kai-shek, along with two million nationalist Chinese, fled to Taipei on the island of Taiwan, where they claimed legitimacy as the official government of China in exile.
Thus, the “two Chinas,” consisting of the “Republic of China” (ROC) on Taiwan and the Communist “People’s Republic of China” (PRC) in Beijing, were pitted in bloodthirsty hatred against each other, separated by a strip of water seventy-five miles wide known as the Taiwan Strait.
&nbs
p; The Taiwan Strait separates the two Chinas
The United States at first recognized Taiwan as the official government of China in exile. It would not acknowledge the Communist government in Beijing. But in 1979, the US finally recognized the People’s Republic as the official government of China.
While the US technically broke diplomatic relations with the Republic of China on Taiwan, it maintained close military and economic ties with the Taiwanese.
All this left the United States tiptoeing back and forth across a delicate diplomatic and military tightrope between the “two Chinas,” each of which it is economically dependent upon and each of which would destroy the other if they could get away with it.
By 2010, the Navy of the Communist People’s Republic of China had more ships than the United States Navy. And the US owed China trillions, having sold Treasury bonds to finance American debt.
The relationship between the “two Chinas” remains an explosive powder keg.
Acknowledgments
With special thanks to my “West Coast Editor,” Jack Miller, of La Mesa, California, a distinguished veteran of the United States Army, and who, along with his lovely wife, Linda, remains a generous benefactor of the San Diego Zoo and the Lambs Theatre of Coronado, among other worthy causes.
Also with grateful appreciation to B. T. Prince of Carmel Baptist Church, a friend, mentor, and faithful soldier in the Army of God.
STORMING THE BLACK ICE
Dedicated to the memory of Todd Allan Overgaard May 23, 1964 – June 24, 2010 504th Parachute Infantry Regiment 82nd Airborne Division United States Army “All the way!”
PROLOGUE
Belgrano II base camp
Argentine outpost
Antarctica
8:18 p.m. local time
early twenty-first century
in the reign of King Charles III of England
Belgrano Base. This is FAA C-130. We are on final approach for cargo drop. Estimated time . . . ten minutes. Stand by.”
The announcement from the aircraft, transmitted over the base camp’s loudspeakers, sent the handful of scientists and Army officers scrambling off their foldout canvas chairs and makeshift cots.
Yanking thermal gloves from drawers, they grabbed heavy jackets from lockers and tossed snow boots and flashlights to each other. The weapons officer rushed to the arms locker and began passing automatic rifles to the men.
Lieutenant Fernando Sosa zipped his thermal jacket and swung open the door of the geodesic dome. Frigid Antarctic air blasted through the cozy warmth inside the research station as Sosa stepped outside ahead of the others.
The snow had started when he arrived at base camp one week ago. And it kept snowing—until an hour ago. Out in the cold of the night, Sosa took five steps and stopped.
He gazed up at the sky. How could he not?
At the bottom of the world, the magnificent sight that spread across the heavens could stop any man in his tracks.
Greenish bands glowed against the starry sky, arcing in a broad swath across the heavens. Behind the celestial green, God had painted a tapestry of pink, mixing in light green and red, sprinkled with yellow, and a pure blue.
Aurora Australis. The Southern Lights.
The panorama triggered memories of the priest’s words from mass last month.
The heavens declare the glory of the Lord.
Photographs could serve no justice to actually witnessing the brilliant colors of Aurora Australis for the first time. If only Carolina could witness this.
They were still newlyweds, married for six months, and he hoped she would soon bear him a son. But on this top secret mission, Carolina had no clue of his whereabouts.
Blinding searchlights lit the night.
“Move . . . move!” The colonel’s command snapped him from his gaze.
Powerful white beams crisscrossed the skies.
“Keep moving!” the colonel shouted.
Through deep snow they trudged, out to an icy tundra, away from the comforting warmth of the geodesic dome.
Armed riflemen fanned into a defensive perimeter as a faint whir of aircraft propellers sounded in the distance and grew louder as the military cargo plane approached from somewhere in the night.
“Spread out!” the colonel ordered. “Rifles ready!”
“There!” The first sergeant pointed to the sky.
Sosa looked up. Crisscrossing spotlights clipped the four-engine aircraft, an Argentine Air Force C-130, passing low over the camp.
Then the plane disappeared, its roaring engines still audible in the distance, its blinking tail and wing lights vanishing last.
“Parachute! Parachute!” someone shouted.
Searchlights shifted to the left, illuminating a white parachute floating from the sky. The wooden crate at the bottom of the chute drifted back and forth in the wind, gliding at a shallow angle toward the ground. It landed in a snowbank a hundred yards downrange.
“Let’s go! Secure that position!” the colonel snapped.
Riflemen dashed through the snow toward the box as the parachute floated to the ground. Two men slipped and fell, then got back up and joined the others as they formed a tight circle around the crate.
“Are you ready, Lieutenant?” The colonel looked Sosa in the eye.
“Yes, sir,” Sosa said. “I have been training for months for this.”
“Let’s go.”
They headed out toward the drop zone, through wind so cold that Sosa’s nose and eyes ached with throbbing pain.
The ring of soldiers guarding the crate moved aside as the colonel stepped through.
Sosa followed the base commander into the armed perimeter. Off to the right two soldiers were bent over, rolling the parachute and stuffing it into a canvas bag.
“Light it up,” the colonel said.
The staff sergeant lit the night with a blinding flashlight beam.
The wooden crate, about a four-foot cube, had an ominous warning painted in Spanish:
¡Secreto superior!
¡Propiedad de la Fuerzas Armadas de la Republica Argentina ¡Advertencia!
¡Pegarán un tiro a cualquiera que no tenga autoridad para abrir!
Which in English translated into:
Top Secret!
Property of the Armed Forces of the Argentine Republic Warning!
Anyone who opens without authority will be shot!
CHAPTER 1
Moanalua Road
Honolulu
Oahu, Hawaii
The silver Beamer hugged the curve along Moanalua Road, racing under the bright, warm sunshine and deep blue skies of an early Hawaiian afternoon. The driver slowed when the sea of brake lights flashed up ahead in front of the entrance of St. Timothy’s Episcopal Church on the right. He cursed under his breath, then checked his watch.
His problem—bad timing.
Pearl Ridge Elementary School over to the left was letting out, attracting a sea of open-top convertibles and snub-nosed vans jammed in a long line at the entrance of the school, backing up traffic for a quarter of a mile. Even without the traffic jam, getting to Commander Pete Miranda’s appointment with the admiral would be a tight squeeze.
“Why didn’t I take the H1?” He hit the brakes, coming to a stop in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Pete checked the time, then let out an expletive. “I need some air.” He pushed the button on the dash to open the retractable top of the brand-new BMW 650i. “I fork out all this cash for this expensive little baby, and all I do is sit in traffic jams. Drive in circles. Island’s only forty miles long and thirty miles wide.”
As the retractable top opened and glorious Hawaiian sunshine saturated the driver’s side of the Beamer, the answer to his question appeared in the flesh—a blonde in a spaghetti-strap yellow sundress in a Chrysler Sebring convertible.
The poor damsel in distress!
Stuck in line on the left shoulder of the road, crawling at a snail’s pace even slower than Pete’s lane. Her blond hair danced in t
he breeze off her tanned shoulders. And as her left hand clasped the steering wheel at the twelve o’clock position, the noticeable absence of a ring!
“My, my!” Pete let up on the brakes and rolled even with the Sebring.
She glanced in his direction, and their eyes locked in a millisecond of an electrifying instant. She flashed a magnetic smile.
“Now I remember why I bought this car.” He shot her a teasing salute and returned the smile. “Request permission to come aboard?”
“What?” She mouthed the single word in a smiling, bashful fashion, raising her left eyebrow in a curious manner and sporting a look of pleasure about the coincidence that had brought their convertibles side by side in a traffic jam made in heaven.
“Me Clark! You Christie!” he shouted.
She laughed. “I love that old movie.”
“You liked Vacation? Me too!”
She giggled and, with a swift movement of her hand, pushed a lock of blond hair out of her face. “I loved it!”
“Now me like traffic jams!”
“You’re bad!” She smiled.
And then . . . his iPhone rang.
COMSUBPAC. The admiral’s office.
Pete swiped his thumb across the iPhone. “Commander Miranda.”
“Sir, this is Master Chief Kelly at SUBPAC.”
“How can I help you, Master Chief?”
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but the admiral wants you here five minutes early.”
Pete looked down at the digital clock. 1350 hours. Then he glanced over at the Beamer’s navigation screen: 3.8 miles to SUBPAC HQ. ETA 10 minutes.
So much for trading phone numbers with the red-hot soccer mom.
“Gotta get around this traffic.” Pete hit his turn signal, blew a kiss to the blonde, and turned right on Moanalua Loop, heading south toward Pearl Harbor. If he could get lucky with some green lights . . .