by David Poyer
He continued, to outline the history of U.S.-China relations and their breakdown. Mindy winked past him at Blair, as if to say I wrote that. Blair wasn’t impressed, except with a statement that U.S. policy toward that country had all too often been dictated by political and commercial considerations rather than any long-term strategy. All too fucking true … After some minutes, Talmadge got to the point. “Today’s hearing will consider the proposed Authorization for the Use of Military Force against the People’s Republic of China. Are there any other opening statements by the members?… No?… Our first witness will be the national security adviser, Dr. Edward Szerenci.”
Blair sat back, studying her old opponent. Szerenci wore a dark gray suit and a pale blue tie. A flag pin. The same heavy dark horn-rims. Since he was seated, you couldn’t really see how short he was. Glancing back, he caught her eye and inclined his head, a half-smile playing around thin lips. Her nod in return was just as scant.
As usual, he spoke without notes. “Senator Talmadge, ranking member, Senators, I believe—and I saw it during both parties’ chairmanships—that this committee makes the greatest contribution to our foreign policy when it addresses issues in a strong, bipartisan fashion. The chairman has made that point too, but I want to underline it. This is one of the moments in history when a united approach is absolutely critical.
“As you know, the president is committed to engaging with all of your colleagues in the House and Senate regarding an authorization for use of military force against recent aggressive moves of the People’s Republic against India, against Japan, against Vietnam, the Philippines, and now, against Taiwan.”
Blair made just an occasional note for the next few minutes, fully listening again only when she sensed he was winding up.
“I recognize all the work you’ve already done on this challenging issue. As I said, it’s essential that this committee leads the Congress and the country into concerted action. This confrontation will not be over quickly. As the president said during his televised speech. We very much desire approval of this AUMF as a vehicle for further chamber action. I do note Chairman Talmadge has suggested that a one-year reauthorization be included. We’re willing to support that, but with the reservation that we’ll likely have to ask for an extension. I make that point now so there are no misunderstandings later.
“To sum up, Mr. Chairman, members, I ask for your approval with the strongest vote possible. Both our allies and our enemies will read messages into that vote—in connection with our campaign, and that of our coalition partners, to defeat a powerful and expansionist enemy of the sort we haven’t encountered since the Cold War.
“Thank you. I’ll be happy to answer any questions.”
Talmadge shuffled papers as several of the members pitched softballs. When they were done, he asked Szerenci to stay, in case there was further discussion. Then he called a senior fellow from the Brookings Institution, who presented a backgrounder on Zhang Zurong.
A third witness, from State, outlined the administration’s alliance building against the coalition of what he rather colorlessly called the Opposed Powers: China, Northern Myanmar, North Korea, Iran, and Pakistan.
She was closing her notebook, thinking about bailing, when Talmadge leaned into the mike. “Our next witness will be the honorable Dr. Blair Titus, former staff chair of this committee, more recently an undersecretary of defense from the De Bari administration, and currently a senior fellow at SAIC. Dr. Titus?”
The only open seat up front was next to Szerenci. He offered his hand. She hesitated, then took it. But didn’t bother smiling.
Talmadge rumbled, “Dr. Titus, I understand you’ve been studying possible countermoves, and our strategic position vis-à-vis these Axis Powers.” Mindy leaned forward and touched his shoulder. “Sorry … ‘Opposed’ Powers. Or whatever we’re calling them. I’d like your estimate of our ability to hold our positions in the Pacific, and if we take losses, how we should regain the initiative.”
She glanced back at the cameras, making sure they were off. “Mr. Chairman, thank you for inviting me to speak. However, I was not expecting to be called. I have no prepared remarks.”
“That’s all right. I called you because you’ve usually got good sense about these things.”
She fiddled with her notes, playing for time. Even in closed session, there were things she just didn’t want to say. Outline plans for allied counterstrokes, when the issue on Taiwan was still in doubt? She finally murmured, “I can only say that we are being forced to make a definitive choice, for surrender or all-out conventional war. Zhang has breached the peace with the invasion of Taiwan. We’re not formally pledged to intervene, but this is a bigger question than the wording of treaties.
“This aggression threatens the core interests of the United States. If Taiwan falls, South Korea’s encircled and Japan’s essentially neutralized. We stand to lose everything we fought World War II for: a stable Pacific, trading relationships, democratic allies. Right now, our position does not augur well. But I understand PaCom and the Joint Chiefs are formulating plans for downstream operations. Of course, these depend on Senate passage of this resolution.”
A pat on her shoulder. “Well said,” Szerenci whispered. She shot him a jaundiced look.
“Well, Dr. Titus, here is my question.” The senior member from the other party, Senator McKane. “In my experience, it’s easier to embark on a conflict than to end one. Certain members are drawing a parallel here with our war with Japan. But that was a different time, a different enemy. This may call for a different response.”
“That’s true, Senator. Quite true,” Blair said. “Very wise remark.”
“Well, what’s your response? Can we win?”
She took a moment to choose the best words. “I have no crystal ball. And I hesitate to go on record as predicting the outcome of any conflict. But I believe the United States has the power to emerge victorious. At least if we define our objectives properly.
“The question will be whether we have the resolve to continue if faced, as we may well be, with painful reverses. I agree with both the chairman and Dr. Szerenci that this is not a partisan issue. It’s a test of our ability to stand with our allies in a time of death and sacrifice. A test of our will to maintain an international order based on law, not force.
“But, given that, are we ready to make sacrifices on the scale of World War II? There are those who claim this isn’t the same country it was then. That we’re too used to peace. All I can say is, for once, I agree with Dr. Szerenci. We need to stand firm against aggression, no matter the cost.”
No one asked her anything more. Several of the members seemed to be holding side discussions. At last Talmadge leaned to the mike again. “Our next witness will be General Ricardo Vincenzo, United States Air Force, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. General, have you prepared opening remarks?”
Vincenzo had. Halfway through them he hesitated, then drew a breath.
“This is highly classified. We can’t reveal how we obtained this information. But General Zhang has ordered the rapid deployment of a new class of ICBM. The DF-41 is a surprise. In terms of throw weight, accuracy, and number of independently maneuverable warheads, it is superior to the heaviest missiles we have available. We’d heard rumors about its development, but had no indication it was this far along.”
Talmadge said gravely, “This is indeed serious news, General. Do we have hard numbers?”
“We estimate at least fifty MIRVed ICBMs are being activated. All, presumably, targeted against major cities in the continental United States.”
Szerenci held up a hand. Talmadge nodded. “If you will, Mr. Chairman. This accords perfectly with the premier’s ultimatum of a few days ago. One: No American ally will be attacked unless it attacks China, or refuses to provide passage. Two: U.S. forces capable of delivering nuclear weapons will be dealt with ‘by any means necessary.’ Three: Any aggression against Chinese soil will be answered by a similar level
of destruction visited on the American homeland.
“This underscores a point I’ve made in other venues: their breakout in nuclear delivery systems is quickly placing us in an inferior position. Until now, I thought this was some years out. Now it’s happening sooner. Therefore, our goal must not be simply to restore the status quo. It must be to cap and, if possible, eliminate the Red Chinese nuclear deterrent. If we must take risks, better now than later. When we may be fighting from a position of disadvantage.”
A stir on the dais; a murmuring. Talmadge tapped the gavel. They quieted. “Thank you, Doctor. General, any further remarks?”
Vincenzo said, “Our mobilization is proceeding. We’ll bring a request to the Hill shortly for activation of the selective service system. We may be handicapped, though, by the recent data corruption discovered in their files. This may be a lengthy war. It’s a long way out to the western Pacific, and we can no longer call on the shipping capacity we had in World War II.”
The hearing wore on. The deputy director of the CIA. A Taiwan expert from Georgetown University. At last Talmadge called for a vote. One by one, the senators, in portentous tones, voiced their decisions.
It came out 11 to 2, with one member abstaining, to forward the force-authorization resolution to the Senate the next morning.
Looking exhausted, Talmadge declared the session closed. He lifted his head, seeming to search the audience for Blair. But she was already slipping out.
She had a debate to get ready for.
* * *
“THIS election is going to revolve around national security, Blair.” Jessica looked anxious, frazzled, skinnier than when they’d first met. “He’s going to scare them. Tell them their sons, and probably their daughters, are going to die in the Pacific. So we reassure them. Tell ’em nothing bad will happen. We’ll win in a few weeks. It’s under control.”
Her campaign manager trotted alongside, talking on and on about what to say and what not to. Blair finally interrupted: “Did anyone from the party get in touch? About that funding Bankey promised?”
“I left four calls. No one’s returned them. By the way, you look fantastic. Love that suit. Powerful. Remember, everything’s going to be fine in the Pacific. Your dad said—”
“Not now,” Blair muttered as the backstage door swung open and her makeup guy waved from a portable desk.
When she walked out onto the stage, smoothing her hair over the damaged ear, the auditorium looked much smaller than the hearing room in the Hart. But the audience was larger. In fact, standing room only. To the side waited a panel of students. They’d discuss the debate as soon as it was over. The local radio stations were carrying it live. Her opponent had wanted four meetings, but she’d cut it down to this one, citing her commitments in Washington. Which might or might not work against her. “Too busy to care about local issues”—that would be how he’d spin it. If he was smart.
She focused on her earnest-looking, dark-haired, awkwardly spindly opponent as they met in the middle of the stage, shook hands, and retreated to opposite sides. Gregory Beiderbaum owned a car dealership in Cheltenham. His family had sold Fords for generations. He’d been a state representative, then a state senator.
She won the toss and spoke first. In her opening statement, she made sure to mention Beiderbaum’s coming out of the closet two years before, the first openly gay state senator in Maryland history. How courageous she found it. She smiled down at his husband, Fyodor, who was sitting in the front row. She kept it polite, outlining her experience at the Congressional Research Service, on the Senate staff, and in the Department of Defense, and pointing out that she’d just come from testifying about the war-powers resolution.
To her astonishment, Beiderbaum came out of the chute hungry for blood. His opening remarks painted her as a tool of the defense establishment. “Why does ‘the Honorable’ Blair Titus—a title given her by the De Bari administration—care so much about what happens on a faraway island in Asia? One reason. It happens in every war: our freedoms erode, government prying and control increase. The national debt’s skyrocketing. Those of you who depend on Medicare and Social Security, prepare to lose benefits. And those in our radio and TV audience, who’ve worked hard and accumulated investments: you see what’s happening to their value.”
He wheeled, and pointed at her. “This is nothing to the suffering Blair Titus will bring us. She talks about her family’s history. Back to the slaveholders of the Civil War. But she’s not even a Maryland resident anymore; she lives in Arlington.” Beiderbaum licked his lips, glanced at his notes, beamed an earnest smile into the cameras. “Now let’s talk about her husband. A ‘Navy hero,’ her office says. But, really, a left-wing agitator in his younger days, according to my good friend Congresswoman Sandy Treherne. More recently, he cravenly backed down from a confrontation with the Chinese in the Indian Ocean. And now he’s dragging us into war, just like in the Tonkin Gulf. He recklessly risks his men’s lives, the same cavalier way his wife—who distances herself by not taking his name—will endanger your children. She has, by the way, none of her own.”
His voice rose; he pounded the podium with a clenched fist. “Blair just told you, with her own lips, who she is. The consummate Washington insider. The Senate. The Department of Defense. Oh yes. Oh, yes. Her motto: Tax, spend, and herd other people’s children to the slaughter, against the hordes of Asia.
“I call on the voters of this district, from both parties, to reject war. If you don’t like me, write another name in on your ballot. But if you value the lives of your children, the value of your investments, and above all, your God-given freedoms, do not vote for Blair Titus.”
A storm of applause, with many leaping up to cheer. Offstage, Kirschorn was pumping a fist at her, then clawing like an enraged raccoon: rip his guts out. Blair forced herself to breathe slowly. Concentrate. Attack, in her turn? Attack what? The guy had no national-level experience. Which was, of course, why he was shifting ground on her. Politics. In what other profession would being completely ignorant be presented as an advantage?
She could go personal. He wanted to compare families? He’d left three school-age kids behind when he’d abandoned his wife. After screwing her out of 160 acres of a trailer park that had been in her family for decades.
But if she took that route, she’d be portrayed as attacking his lifestyle choice. And lose one of her own bases of support. Check.
Instead, facing the by-now-hostile faces below her, she spoke calmly, to the issues. She defended the administration, which felt deeply wrong, given her party. “I can’t disagree that this war is being forced on us. We can’t give the president a blank check. But neither can we walk away from our allies. That would be the beginning of our fall.
“We have to walk a middle path. It will be long. It may be harder than we like. The good news is that unemployment figures are down. Our manufacturing base is beginning to respond. Government spending, historically, is a stimulus to the economy.”
But even as she explained logically and reasonably what they had to do, she saw it in their expressions. The rage. The naked fear. America was taking on a war no one wanted. Someone had to pay.
It looked as if that someone was going to be her.
23
Yongxing Island
TEDDY came to only gradually. Someone was kicking him in the side, again and again. He submerged back into the darkness. He could still see the hurting up there, like a diver under ice. It was there, but it didn’t really reach him. Not down here.
But the darkness rejected him. Buoyed him up, as if he wasn’t yet heavy enough to stay, toward a jagged icy surface he didn’t want to approach, but couldn’t avoid.
He pried open swollen eyes to see a concrete floor. Close up, it was anything but flat. Wavy and bumpy, with hills and rugged valleys. Was he an ant? That hole would give him some cover. He tried to drag himself toward it, but his swollen body was too massive.
Black boots came into his field of view.
Someone was yelling. The high voice was singsong. He didn’t understand it. Ants didn’t understand words. But he was starting to doubt his antness. Especially when the boot swung again, and his kidneys lanced. He barked and tried to roll away. But his hands were cuffed behind him. Knife-edged metal dug into his wrists.
More kicking, more screaming. Then one of them must have figured out, about his bad leg. Probably because he shrieked whenever the guy jumped on it. So, naturally, he was jumping on it again, yelling each time, grinding it into the concrete at that exact wrong angle. Teddy squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tendons tearing out. Kiss all that surgery, physical therapy, good-bye. The gray concrete dissolved. He was blacking out again.
Until violent hands grabbed his arms and legs, yanked him off the deck, and rammed him into a chair. He blinked gritty eyelids, trying to focus. Glaring light. Brown concrete walls. Asians in grayish camo. Hard looking, and extremely pissed off, from the way they slapped him and backhanded elbows into his face.
Oberg let his head sag as it rushed back. The mission. The Package. Echo cut up and cut off. Crewing the machine gun. “Harch made it?” he muttered, realizing his lips were swollen too. What had happened to Knobby, Moogie, Mud Cat, the wounded? Had they made it out? And what about the MIA from Echo One, back at the causeway?
Then he shut up. These guys wouldn’t tell him. Nothing they were going to tell him would be the truth. Something was wrong in his side. His leg was all fucked up. And his head reeled. The room spun like a chopper with an RPG in the tail rotor. Loose teeth, too. Blood pooling in his throat. They must’ve been beating on him for a while already. Too bad he’d been out, couldn’t enjoy it.
But he couldn’t say that. Or anything like that. Not out loud.
He was going to have to watch that mouth of his, that was for sure.