The last surviving Apache had run out of missiles. It reared, tipped, and banked away from the wasted enemy column. When the melee quieted, tree frogs again sang. We have our foothold, thought Taiwan’s Major General Tek. He ordered his pilot to get him back on the ground.
◊◊◊◊
A summer storm had soaked DC, blowing off the stagnant humidity that had settled over the city, and replacing it with a dry, cool, steady breeze. Jade reclined on the couch, deep in study. Richard worked at his computer desk by an open window. He thumbed through papers as he researched potential diplomatic repercussions of a strike on a Chinese base in Sri Lanka. A muted commercial flickered on the television, and the 10 o’clock news started. Richard reached for the remote and turned up the television’s volume.
News of the war led the program. Jade grunted with disapproval. The kettle whistling in the kitchen triggered Richard that it was his turn to brew the tea. He welcomed the distraction and obliged.
Richard returned with two steaming mugs and the day’s mail tucked into his armpit. Jade accepted the cup from Richard, thanking him with a kiss. He returned to his desk, sipped his tea, and pawed at the mail. Pushing aside charity solicitations, furniture catalogs, and coupon clippers, he found a letter from Immigration & Customs Enforcement. The official letter bore Jiao Zhang’s name, c/o Richard Ling. It could mean only one thing, he concluded. He spun in his chair.
“Hey, Jade?”
She quieted him with a finger to her lips, gesturing to the television and the breaking news it showed. Taiwanese citizens gathered before Taipei’s parliament building, cheering and waving little red and gold flags of the People’s Republic,.
“Look at this,” she smirked.
◊◊◊◊
The midday sun blared. Chinese paratroopers were dressed in festive outfits and baseball caps, holding back loyalist throngs that had gathered outside the Taiwanese parliament. On a small stage preened General Zhen and Ai Bao Li, vice president of the People’s Republic of China. Lined up on either side of the two Chinese officials was an apprehensive collection of Taiwanese legislators representing both the pro-unification and pro-independence parties. Of course most stood there under threat of arrest. Vice President Ai stepped to the microphone. It squealed, and the crowd quieted.
“My fellow Chinese,” the Party man paused and gestured to the bright, clear sky. “The sun has risen on a new day in China’s long and glorious history: the criminal separatist regime in Taipei has been deposed. It is, therefore, my pleasure to announce the new chief executive of the Taiwan Special Administrative Region of the People’s Republic of China, Yao Ou Pei.” Ushered by applause, whistles, and cheers from the carefully selected crowd, Taiwan’s new Communist head of government emerged and strode to the microphone.
“Thank you, my fellow citizens, thank you.” Chief Executive Yao bowed his head and waved sheepishly. “I,” his voice cracked, “address the people of a united China, the world’s greatest power, and also, our neighbors in the international community. My first directive as chief executive of Taiwan,” his voice grew stern, “is an order to all military units of the former regime to cease hostilities against liberating forces of the People’s Republic. Abandon your weapons and uniforms now. Compliance brings assurances that no further harm will befall you. Brave soldiers of Taiwan…go back to your families.” The crowd roared again and the region’s chief executive crossed his arms and smiled approvingly. Letting the applause linger, he theatrically raised a hand. The crowd calmed. “Effective immediately, Taiwan and its island territories comprise the 23rd province of the People’s Republic of China. As head of government, I shall appoint all ministers to the legislative and executive councils. Like Hong Kong, Macau, and Tibet, Taiwan will enjoy 20 years of semi-autonomy. Finally, I entreat the international community—particularly the United States of America —not to interfere with this peaceful reunification. Leave the internal affairs of China to the Chinese people. As lovers of peace, we wish to cease hostilities, and rebuild a fruitful future with our foreign friends and partners. Citizens of Taipei, citizens of Taiwan, citizens of the People’s Republic, it is indeed a glorious day. Long live China. Long live Taiwan. And long live the Communist Party.” Chief Executive Yao raised his arms to the sky. Accentuating the moment, three Vigorous Dragons shrieked overhead, trailing red and yellow smoke from their wingtips. A Chinese news crew focused their lens on the joyful tears of a woman who clutched her child and patriotically squinted skyward. General Zhen, Vice President Ai, and Chief Executive Yao smiled and shook hands.
◊◊◊◊
“Unbelievable,” Richard said, impressed by the political spectacle on his television. Jade had spotted the official-looking envelope among the junk mail. She tore into it with a manicured nail and read.
“They revoked my student visa,” Jade choked. Realizing she was about to cry, Richard grabbed her hand for comfort. “I have one week to go home,” she managed before she sobbed. Richard pulled her close and hugged her tight, feeling her slight but sturdy body tremble. Her warm tears dripped to his bare arm.
“They cannot do this to you,” he cried. “It’s unfair catching students up in international games.” She looked up to him. Her face porcelain and her eyes, moist with tears, glistening like wet coal. Richard could smell her hair; floral and clean. He would do anything for her. He pulled her closer and shot a glance deep into her soul. He kissed her like it was their last kiss. When they parted, Jade smiled, though the smile quickly disappeared, replaced by the worry that permeated her. He knew he could not be without her. He admitted to himself what he already knew.
“I love you, Jade,” he declared.
“I love you, too,” she whispered, and sighed.
“This is going to be difficult.” He held her tighter.
“More than you think. I’m pregnant.”
◊◊◊◊
Senior Master Sergeant Li and his men huddled around Hill 112’s only working radio, eating the last of their rations. Smoke from a small cooking fire vented through the shattered bunker’s ceiling as moisture dripped down twisted rebar and collected in silted pools. The change of government ceremony ended, and the radio broadcast concluded with the national anthem of the People’s Republic. A soldier snuffed the radio racket with a click. The men looked to the senior master sergeant who rubbed his injured arm. One asked if this meant the war was over. Another, if Taiwan had surrendered. Li realized he must act quickly to stem the confusion. Li scanned the apprehensive faces that awaited an answer. He stood and said:
“We have not surrendered, and we do not take orders from the Communists or their lackeys. Understood?” The response was hesitant and lukewarm. One soldier said he had not talked to his wife in a week. He had no idea how his children had fared. This caught Li unprepared and momentarily snuffed the flame that grew inside. What of my own wife and child? He wondered.
“Senior master sergeant, sir,” an airman interjected. “For all we know, we’re holding out for nothing. We’ve even lost contact with command.”
“This is exactly what the enemy wants, doubt and confusion in our ranks. We are fighting for our country and our way of life. Are you willing to roll over so easily? Are you all strawberries like the Communists say? Does your liberty mean that little to you?” While he framed his words in questions, Li wanted no rebuttal.
“I don’t want to die,” a young conscript whined. Li, exhausted, sat back down. There was a long pause. A jet—probably Chinese—roared overhead. Unknown to the men on Hill 112, several sympathetic Taiwanese officers—Communist stooges in positions of command—had succeeded in disarming and dismissing major elements of Taiwan’s army. Although the professional units did not succumb to this psychological operation, large numbers of soldiers had abandoned their positions and weapons. Li scanned the semicircle of men that surrounded him.
“How many of you wish to desert?” Li asked, with a cautionary choice of words. Several hands started to rise timidly. Li’s fir
st instinct was to grab his assault rifle and execute the traitors on the spot. He fought this instinct and, instead, said, “You are free to go.”
Several airmen and soldiers stood, disgusting Li. Without making eye contact, he insisted they leave their identification and uniforms behind. Then, in a blur, a seated soldier raised his gun. Another man screamed for him to stop, but the soldier cursed and opened up on the deserters. The bullets propelled them backward into a dark corner of the bunker. While one man still twitched, they were soon all dead. With ears ringing and head swimming, Li saw the shooter splattered with magenta polka dots. The assault rifle exhaled a twist of smoke from its bore. Li grabbed his own rifle and hit the shooter with the butt. The shooter fell backward onto a rock that knocked him unconscious. In the still air of the bunker, gun smoke lingered in dancing layers. One soldier cried. Li covered the bodies with a rain tarp, collected himself, and stood before the remaining men.
“We are soldiers of the republic. We will hold until relieved or killed. Is that understood?” The men nodded, coaxed by the firmness of Li’s voice. He pointed at the unconscious shooter. “This man is under arrest for murder, and will face a court-martial. These men are deserters, but they did not deserve to die like this. Li began to secure the unconscious shooter with handcuffs.
“Sir, the Chinese. They will be here any moment. How can we--” A sharp glance from Li cut him off.
“They’ll overrun us. Kill us all,” another man picked up where the soldier had left off.
“You are all strawberries,” Li shouted. “They should have sent your girlfriends and wives, instead.”
One soldier stood, and snapped to perfect attention.
“Senior Airman Hong Xu. I am ready for duty.”
One-by-one, the Taiwanese air stood. Each stated their rank and name, albeit some reluctantly and halfheartedly. Nonetheless, Li was inspired.
“Sir, we need food. I suggest we journey into town. We can use civilian clothes,” the senior airman proposed. Li smiled.
“We also need a radio; preferably a military one,” Li said. The waning adrenalin had left him shaky. He put his face in his hands.
◊◊◊◊
From within his air-conditioned office that overlooked Songshan airport’s tarmac, General Zhen reviewed maps and timetables. He rested a stubby digit on the map. It covered several small islands in the Strait that comprised Taiwan’s Penghu County. On the largest isle were Magong City and its small airport. By the runway was a Taiwanese Sky Sword air defense site. We must seize the airport and destroy the surface-to-air missile battery, Zhen plotted. Operation Red Dragon called for the Chengdu Military Region Special Forces Unit—The Falcons, as they were called within the People’s Liberation Army—to seize these targets. Zhen lit a cigarette, sipped some coffee, and rubbed his aching temple.
◊◊◊◊
A heat shimmer appeared on the Taiwan Strait’s horizon. This mirage obscured a grey hull. The 150-foot Chinese landing craft N7579 thumped through the moderate chop, her bow visor shielding the landing ramp from the sea. One mile southeast of the target airfield, the big craft approached the quiet Taiwanese beach and scraped ashore. N7579’s bow visor swung up and her cargo of Falcons streamed down the landing craft’s ramp.
Carrying futuristic bullpup assault rifles, and wearing blue, white and black camouflage, the Falcons waded through waist-high water and stormed the beach. They dropped to the sand at a line of barrier dunes. A strolling elderly Taiwanese couple stopped to watch the commotion, and a Chinese officer politely urged them to leave. An invader stabbed a red signal flag into the dunes, now flapping in the shore breeze.
With the Falcons ensconced on the beach, a tracked ZBD05 Sea Storm amphibious infantry fighting vehicle rolled down N7579’s ramp. Painted shades of blue, the Sea Storm clawed up the dunes, and its 30-millimeter cannon and Red Arrow anti-tank missile launcher menaced the swath of shoreline. The Sea Storm led ashore a 6x6 cargo truck carrying ammunition, food, and water. The truck sank into the gravel, but then its powerful diesel engine coaxed the truck ahead. As the truck negotiated the soft sand, N7579 reversed her powerful, ducted propellers, raised her bow ramp, and lowered her bow visor. Kicking up mud and sand from the bottom, N7579 backed away from the beach. The Falcons bound inland under cover of the infantry fighting vehicle and its cannon and missiles.
Where rough shore road met the pavement of Penghu County’s Route 204, the Chinese Sea Storm infantry fighting vehicle stopped at the airfield perimeter fence, and waited for the sprinting special forces to catch up. When the Falcons made it, the vehicle pushed down the fence, and raced onto the airfield and its rubber-streaked concrete runway. Followed by their supply truck, the Falcons made their way down the runway. They blasted and disabled a small Taiwanese helicopter, as well as a single Mirage already stripped of parts that had been abandoned in place. The Falcons dashed for the far end of the field. The speeding Sea Storm locked one of its Red Arrows on the primary target—the airfield’s Sky Sword surface-to-air missile battery—and sent the anti-tank missile on its way. The Red Arrow impacted the Sky Sword’s rectangular quad launcher and exploded the Taiwanese emplacement in an inferno of solid rocket fuel and high explosives.
The Chinese Sea Storm then rolled up and shredded the emplacement’s radar antenna with cannon fire. The Sea Storm’s hull ramp dropped and a breach team dismounted. Wearing gas masks, these Falcons burst into a small Taiwanese command trailer. Muffled gunshots and a small explosion followed, and smoke and gas vented from the trailer. A Falcon emerged. He made a fist, signaling, mission accomplished.
Then, with a sound like rocks knocked together, a firefight heated up between a Taiwanese platoon and a Chinese security detachment. Men had fallen on both sides, when the pops of gunfire subsided. The Falcons then shifted their attention to secondary objectives, including sabotaging several more aircraft and seizing airport vehicles, including fuel bowsers and cargo trucks. When the Falcons reported they had taken the abandoned terminal and the control tower, their commander, seated within the infantry fighting vehicle, transmitted an encrypted success code. Loitering over the Taiwan Strait, several Chinese airplanes received this code and turned toward their destination.
Eight minutes later, a single Candid strategic transport lined up on the captured airfield’s runway, and entered a steep descent. The heavily loaded airlifter touched down, and the pilot immediately deployed spoilers, reverse thrust, and then brakes. Struggling to slow down and not overrun the short runway, the airplane wobbled along the runway’s centerline and, with brakes smoking, the big Chinese transport stopped at the crux of concrete and grass. Using brakes on one side and engine thrust on the other, the Candid pilot skillfully spun his airplane in place, lined it up for a rapid departure, and then stopped. He ‘kneeled’ the big airplane, using its hydraulic lowering capability, as on some city buses. He then lowered its tail ramp. A machine growled inside its hold, announcing its presence.
Trailing a ribbon of black diesel smoke, a Thunder Dragon main battle tank rolled from the Candid’s interior. It clanked off toward the airfield’s small terminal, now called, ‘The Falcon’s Nest.’ A self-propelled Favorit surface-to-air missile transporter-launcher was next to emerge from the Candid. It drove carefully down the ramp and headed toward a collection of hangars. Since the Candid was highly vulnerable while on the ground, and had already deposited its clutch, the big bird hurried to leave. Four turbofans unrolled a carpet of thick smoke, and the lightened Candid rotated and climbed into the sky. Once clear, another airplane lined up on the runway and began its descent, the first of three passenger airliners tasked to ferry Chinese soldiers to the small Taiwanese island.
With only four Taiwanese army platoons and some police at hand, the mayor of Magong City ordered his police chief to lower the flag flying above City Hall. In hopes of sparing the town and its citizens from violence, a white one was raised in its stead. Torn by the decision, the mayor stepped onto his apartment’s balcony. He hear
d the pleas of his police chief again, and they echoed in his head. A low rumbling reverberated from Magong City’s airport. Two Vigorous Dragons roared overhead. These Chinese aircraft shook the old building to its foundation. Heartbroken to see Communist jets roaming freely through Taiwanese skies, the mayor began to sob.
◊◊◊◊
With overwhelming airpower at its back, Chinese naval surface groups punched through the Taiwanese naval forces. With the cream of Taiwan’s navy out of the way, Chinese amphibious operations commenced forthwith.
Painted orange by the late afternoon sun, the men and machines of China’s 1st and 2nd Marine Brigades assembled off the west coast of Taiwan. The collection of landing ships, hovercraft, and troop transports sailed for the strategic Taiwanese ports at Mailiao, site of a petroleum terminal and tank farm; and to Kaohsiung, with its vast container facility. A third amphibious prong would hit the beaches of Liuqiu, a geographically important islet off the southwest coast of Taiwan’s main island. At Kaohsiung, along with several other merchantmen similarly trapped in the Taiwanese port, the Greek bulk carrier Himitos lay at anchor.
Having watched missiles and airplanes crisscrossing overhead for two days, her captain enjoyed some momentary quiet on the bridge. Sipping a coffee and fingering a string of worry beads, he looked out over the ship’s four big deck cranes, and then out to the port’s breakwater and the Strait beyond. Squinting into the glaring sunset, the Greek spotted two inflatable raiding boats on the horizon.
A small Chinese flag whipped from the lead boat’s radio antenna. A Chinese marine surveyed the port and spoke into his radio. The rubber raiders came about. Smoke generators started up and chugged thick grey smoke that concealed the port’s entrance. The cloud lingered, and the sound of machines grew from within it. Air cushioned personnel landing craft rode inflated skirts, emerged, and sped into the harbor.
Fourth Crisis: The Battle for Taiwan Page 14