Path of the Storm

by Douglas Reeman

  Suddenly Rickover was fully alert and anxious. This had never happened before. Jago always left a full statement for his sergeant, and always kept a Chinese officer in the bunker to Stand by the radio in case of emergency.

  Rickover began to throw on his green fatigues and then, quietening himself with an effort, he strapped on his pistol and equipment as if for patrol. Feeling rather self-conscious he jammed his helmet on his head and regarded himself thoughtfully in his mirror. He looked as if he was going to war. With a brief grin he picked up his carbine and torch and stepped out into the corridor.

  Blinded by heavy rain he groped his way across the open square and into the gate office where he found Seltzer and two soldiers sitting quietly by the door. They stared at the giant American with his rain-splattered clothes and heavy helmet, but Rickover said shortly, ‘Now, what goes on?’ The corporal looked frightened, and Rickover noticed for the first time that he was unarmed, although the other two soldiers carried carbines as usual.

  Seltzer seemed at a loss. ‘All gone,’ he said weakly.

  Rickover looked through the door and listened to the wind. In the anchorage there would be waves a mile high in spite of the shelter. It was a pity it was too dark to see anything, ‘Where’s the colonel?’

  ‘Please, I don’t know, Sergeant!’

  Rickover did not turn but watched the others reflected in the black glass of the window. There was only a small oil lamp but he could see the way that Seltzer was shaking. Jesus, what was going on? It was then that Seltzer moved. Small, fat and not very bright by Rickover’s standards, but his loyalty was no longer in doubt. With one terrified gasp he sprang past the big marine, wrenching the carbine from his loose grasp in one frantic movement. The hut exploded with sharp cracks as he jerked the trigger, and as Rickover staggered wildly in the blue smoke he saw one of the soldiers throw up his arms, his face blossoming into an obscene scarlet flower. But the second soldier was firing too, and the hut became a madhouse of barking guns and the fierce ricochet of bullets.

  Rickover pulled out his heavy pistol, aware that the firing had stopped and that he was somehow unhurt. He dropped on one knee beside the fat corporal who was clutching his thigh and whimpering like a child. As he looked up he seemed to drag upon a last reserve of courage.

  ‘Get out, Sergeant! Run now or they will kill you!’ His voice rose to a desperate scream. ‘They told me to call you down here! They knew I was loyal to you! They were going to kill both of us!’ Tears rolled down his biscuit-coloured face. ‘They did not think you would come from your bed armed and ready!’

  Rickover slipped the pistol into his holster and retrieved his carbine, then peered through the swirling smoke at the two dead soldiers. With a chill he recognised both of them. Two of the regular troops from Jago’s carefully trained force, Gently he asked, ‘What has happened?’

  Seltzer closed his eyes. ‘Mutiny! It is a revolt to take over island. They say that the islanders are rebelling against the army!’

  Rickover pulled the man’s arm up around his neck and tugged him to his feet, gritting his teeth against the man’s short cries of agony. ‘Is there a jeep outside?’ He did not wait for an answer but half dragging the writhing corporal he kicked the door aside and battled into the rain and wind towards the vehicle shed beside the main gate, which to his horror he saw was open and deserted.

  There was a jeep, just one, and with something like a prayer Rickover heaved the wounded man into the back and goaded the engine into life. He felt the clang of metal against the side of the game little vehicle, but concentrated upon the curving road and the wind-torn buildings beyond. He tried to sort out what he knew, but half expected that in a moment he would come awake from a nightmare.

  A rebellion, a mutiny, call it what you like, it was too terrible to contemplate. Where the hell was Jago? What would he do if there was no radio? It was over a week before another ship arrived, and by then … he cursed wildly as two running figures scattered across the dim headlamps, soldiers or townspeople, he neither knew nor cared. If Jago was a prisoner or even killed, there was only Yi-Fang. He would know what to do. Over his arm he yelled, ‘Where’s your goddamned major, Seltzer?’

  He had to strain his ear to hear the corporal’s pain-racked reply. ‘He with rebels. He bad man, Sergeant.’

  Rickover stopped the jeep on the side of the road and rested his head on the wheel. What was the point of running? Where to, and with what purpose? Wearily he asked, ‘Jesus, has the whole garrison gone over?’

  ‘Not know, Sergeant. Not know.’ Seltzer’s face was shining with rain but he did not seem to notice it. ‘It all happen in one hour. First, officers go away, and then I am disarmed by my own men.’ A touch of anger crept into his tone. ‘But I not let them kill you!’

  ‘Yeh, sure.’ Rickover patted his arm encouragingly. ‘I must get you fixed up.’ He stared round through the sheeting rain. ‘Where the goddamn hell shall we go?’

  Seltzer clutched his sleeve. ‘Take coast road. Make for west side. All quiet there!’ He moaned. ‘Yi-Fang is at prison camp. He has big lot of guerrillas there.’

  Rickover steered the jeep back on to the uneven road, his mind shocked and reeling. Holy cow, it was getting worse every minute! If Yi-Fang was behind all this he must be off his head! The prison camp was said to be full of suspected terrorists and commie sympathisers, and if that lot got loose it would be the end of Payenhau!

  He could feel the fury knotting in his stomach like icy fingers, and he realised that he was driving almost blindly through the storm with his foot hard on the floor. So Gunnar had been right about the half of it, and now he was gone. Having realised the hopelessness of his position Rickover felt suddenly more relaxed, even lightheaded. He tightened his grip on the wheel and swung the jeep up on to the high coast road, the blown sand and pebbles rattling on his helmet with the rain. ‘Come on, boy! Let’s get at the bastards!’

  It was happening. It was impossible, yet it was for real. Like all those other places where soldiers and marines had been killed and trapped by outmoded beliefs and stillborn ideals.

  He thought of Jago and what he must be thinking if he was still alive. The headlights cut across an upturned cart and another jeep which appeared to have dug its nose into the bank at the roadside. In the few brief seconds before he jammed on the brakes and threw himself sideways from the seat with his carbine already cocked, Rickover saw the dim outline of several heads and the faint gleam of a levelled rifle.

  Then to his intense surprise he heard Jago’s voice cutting through the rain like a saw. ‘Hell, Sergeant, I thought you’d never get here.’

  * * *

  The cave, such as it was, appeared more like a deep cleft in the hillside which made no allowance for the continuous and heavy rain, and Rickover began to wonder if it had been a good thing to meet up with Jago again. Worse still, Jago was wounded in the leg, and now sat, apparently unconscious of the rain, with his bandaged and splinted limb jutting in front of him like a white tusk. Piece by piece Rickover had managed to join together the sequence of events, and the result was not encouraging. As far as he could make out, Rickover understood that Yi-Fang had joined with the islanders in declaring some state of independence from all military occupation by the Nationalist government, the Americans, and anyone else. Guard posts had been overcome, telephone lines cut, and arms and ammunition handed round to trusted parties. Overnight, under cover of the typhoon, a complete takeover had been arranged.

  Jago had apparently been in consultation with Colonel Tem-Chuan when it had all started. He was reluctant to talk much about it, but it was obvious that but for the help of a small handful of loyal, or baffled, Chinese troops Jago would now be lying dead with the others. Instead he had shot his way out of the place and rallied his small force across the coast road to await developments.

  It was quite inconceivable how such a thing could have happened. Yi-Fang had never shown any liking for the islanders, and the old headman in particular. H
e was a pure militarist, with prior loyalty directed to his leaders in Taiwan, or so it had appeared. Now he was probably in virtual control of the island, whichever way you looked at it. If the islanders declared their old independence, what, after all, could anyone do about it? Rickover had often heard Jago speak of the remote possibility of some sort of rebellion, but he had always considered it improbable in the face of his well-trained force of troops. Rickover pulled up his collar and grimaced. Well-trained force!

  Through the gloom he could see Jago’s quick, irritable movements as he waved away the attentions of one of the men. He seemed quite incapable of accepting the new situation. Even now he was barking orders at the crouched figures, some of whom were probably already planning to desert as soon as they were sure what was happening.

  Jago said sharply, ‘Well, Sergeant, what the hell are you moping about?’

  ‘I was just wondering what we should do next.’ Rickover was glad the colonel could not see his eyes.

  ‘Do? Do?’ Jago bobbed his head angrily. ‘We’ll counter-attack and knock hell out of the bastards, that’s what!’ He chuckled. ‘They’ll soon get the message when they know we’re ready for ’em!’

  Rickover tried again: ‘But, Colonel, there’s only us left. If there are any other troops loyal to us they’ll be too scared to show themselves.’

  Jago snorted, ‘Rubbish!’

  Rickover stood up, suddenly weary of the officer’s stubbornness. ‘You’re deluding yourself, sir. The island’s cracked wide open, and right now we’ve got to think of some way to stay alive! Did you know Yi-Fang’s gone to the prison camp to release the Reds there?’ He raised his voice, no longer caring. ‘Well, didn’t you? And don’t you realise that all this means one thing as far as I can see? Yi-Fang’s been a commie all this time and we just didn’t realise it! He’s been stirring up the locals into believing that they’re due for independence, and when they agree to back him,’ he clicked his fingers, ‘bingo! He steps in and takes over the whole works!’

  Jago sounded scathing. ‘Even allowing for your being partly correct, what would be the point of that?’

  ‘I’m only a goddamn sergeant, sir, but even I can see that! We’ve allowed him a free hand. We’ve trained and armed his men, and never once questioned him . He’s been here for ages, he’s had plenty of time to fill his inner prison camp with every guerrilla and agent he wanted. Each refugee ship must have carried a whole crop of them. He just kept them in that camp, safe and snug, and then shipped out the others to Taiwan! It’s so simple it makes you spew!’

  Jago said in a quieter tone, ‘And we let him build an airstrip with convict labour!’

  Rickover grunted. ‘We did. So even if a proportion of your men had stayed loyal, Yi-Fang’s boys could have held their airstrip in the middle of their own camp until help arrived!’

  Jago tried to struggle up. ‘Jesus H. Christ! We’ve got to do something!’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do, Colonel. Not a goddamn thing!’ Brutally Rickover added, ‘So Gunnar was right, after all, it seems!’

  ‘You shut your mouth! I’m not finished yet!’

  ‘We soon will be though. A handful of scared Chinks and a few wounded men, what the hell is that meant to be?’ Rickover spat on the wet ground. ‘How the West was won!’

  Jago strained against the streaming clay. ‘For God’s sake stow it! Yi-Fang wouldn’t let me down! Not after all I’ve done for him!’

  Rickover turned away, suddenly dispirited and beaten. ‘Yeh, that’s right, Colonel, he’s a Democrat through an’ through!’

  Jago seemed to have forgotten him. ‘Now let’s see. We’ve got to retake the citadel, or at least the bunker, and get the radio going. We can call up a strike force and square these buggers up in no time at all.’ He chuckled in the darkness. ‘It’ll be a feather in our caps then!’

  Rickover squatted wretchedly on an ammunition case. Jago was off his head, either because of his wound or because of the unbelievable collapse of his little kingdom. Whatever the reason, the end was the same.

  ‘If only Gunnar had stayed,’ Rickover was voicing his thoughts aloud, ‘we could have done something then.’

  Jago’s voice was scalding with sarcasm. ‘Him? He’s a do-nothing guy if ever I saw one! Talk, talk, talk, that doesn’t win goddamn wars!’

  Rickover banged his carbine savagely. And what’ll you do, you big bastard? he thought. Stay here and be killed, I guess, if only to cover up your stupid mishandling of the whole flaming mess!

  He leaned over Seltzer’s inert shape. ‘How are you doin’?’

  The corporal nodded vaguely. ‘Okay, Sergeant.’ Then in a strangely determined voice: ‘You wrong, Sergeant, most troops loyal. They just get confused, you unnerstan’?’

  Rickover ignored Jago’s mutterings and stared emptily at the rain and the fast-moving clouds. If I were the admiral, what would I do? Just supposing I knew what was going on, that is. He smiled bitterly. It was obvious really. Just send a nuclear sub and blast Payenhau to fragments!

  Jago said reasonably: ‘Still, Sergeant, I think yours is quite a good bit of supposition. Just supposing, as I said, that you are right, our people would be in a jam if Yi-Fang was a traitor and took over the island in the name of the islanders.’

  Humour him. ‘Why, sir?’ Rickover stifled a yawn.

  ‘Well, if we had to retake the island by force, real force, the whole goddamn world would know about it. And after the Dominican affair, Viet Nam and all the rest, the pinkies and the yellow-bellies’d soon be howling for blood! They’d say we were crushing the free peoples of Payenhau just to make a U.S. base. Trouble is, those sort of maniacs never look too deeply to see who’s really behind it.’

  Rickover breathed out slowly. ‘Yeh, a smart angle.’ It was too. And with perfect timing. Before supporting ships could arrive, and within hours of Hibiscus leaving, Yi-Fang had moved, and fast. How Yi-Fang and his cronies must have laughed at Jago behind his back. If the commandant had been another man it might still have been saved. But there was only Jago, and he had failed.

  Jago added suddenly: ‘But that is not the way I see it, no sir! As soon as it’s light I intend to counter-attack and contain this situation myself, have you got that? One good slam in the belly and we’ll roll ’em over like tenpins!’

  Rickover smiled in spite of his tortured thoughts. ‘Sure we will, Colonel. You, me and poor old Seltzer, we’ll take on the whole commie army if you say so!’

  But when there was no reply Rickover turned to see that the colonel had apparently fainted from loss of blood.

  That, at least, would give a little peace before the final storm, he thought.

  15

  Attack

  ROBERT MADDOX JERKED open the wheelhouse door and stepped carefully outside on to the open wing. Although it was dark his eyes slowly became accustomed to the familiar shapes around him, and he found time to marvel at the sea change which had cast its spell over the whole ship. The bridge and superstructure seemed to give off a sort of phosphorescent glow, like some strange iced cake, and he saw that every inch of the steel plating was covered with a layer of plastered salt, stiff and petrified, as if it had always been so. But the greatest change of all was the sea itself. Still choppy and heaving with sullen anger, it was a poor imitation of the typhoon which had smashed them down, battered at their frail defences, and then left baffled and frustrated by their ceaseless efforts to stay alive. The surging, deafening anger was spent until another time, and it was hard to imagine that the storm still existed in another place, a giant, berserk vortex which even now was probably rolling some puny ship on to its beam ends, or smashing blindly against the last barrier of the Chinese mainland.

  Soon the first hint of red-gold would peep over the edge of the world, would show what had happened and display their strength and weakness once again. The fatigue and the fear had left him drained and cold, and he knew that even if he were able to take the time, he could not sleep. Not like the capt
ain. Gunnar was sleeping now, for the first time since Maddox could remember.

  The storm had showed little sign of relenting, yet Gunnar had somehow tested its power, had sensed its parting. Quite suddenly, and without warning, he had remarked to the wheelhouse in his quiet, compelling voice: ‘We’re through. The ship has done us proudly!’ Then without fuss or further comment he had handed over the con and retired to his bunk.

  Maddox swayed unsteadily as a final broken roller wallowed against the hull and hissed around the foot of the stack. A foot scraped on the open ladder, and Maddox saw with surprise that it was Malinski.

  The small engineer took off his cap and let his wiry hair ruffle in the stiff breeze. ‘It’s nice to be able to stand up straight again,’ he said. A match scraped and Maddox saw the man’s worn face illuminated above a glowing pipe bowl, and sensed the familiar tang of Malinski’s rank tobacco. He added: ‘I was in a can running out of Pearl some years back and we went head-smack into a beauty of a typhoon. It rolled the sticks out of us, an’ we lost ten men overboard in the first five minutes. Christ knows how we stayed afloat, but we did.’ He sucked contentedly on his pipe. ‘It sure is one hell of a challenge for any skipper.’

  Maddox thought bitterly of Gunnar’s parting words: ‘The ship has done us proudly.’ That too was somehow typical of the man. A sort of old-world way of putting things which seemed to symbolise the endless line of seafaring men who had borne his name before him. It might have been the captain of a four-piper in the First World War, or of a square-rigged frigate. But he praised the ship for survival. Not himself. Maddox bit his lip, knowing that the truth pointed well away from that. Had he been left in command as Gunnar had threatened, the ship would have handled differently, of that he was quite sure.

  ‘I wonder what’s in store for us now?’ He spoke in a half whisper, and Malinski cocked his head in surprise.

  ‘Oh, I expect we’ll just give that marine colonel a touch of colic.’ The pipe bubbled cheerfully. ‘And then start back for Taiwan once more!’