Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 06

by Fatal Terrain (v1. 1)

  In 1985, the 221st was given a new class of aircraft, its first metalwing plane: three Hanzhong Y-8 maritime patrol aircraft, a copy of the old Soviet An-12 “Cub” transport. The plane was over twenty years old then, but it represented a significant upgrading of the group’s patrol capabilities. Along with numerous observation windows, the Y-8 carried electronic radio direction finders, which could scan for radio transmissions and provide a bearing to the transmitter. With two or more bearings, the operator could fix the location of the transmitter with surprising accuracy. The Y-8 was a four-turboprop smoke-belching monster that could barely fly above 10,000 feet, but it could stay aloft for as long as twelve hours and fly in almost any kind of weather. The members of the 221st, old and young alike, loved it.

  One of the 221st’s planes was on patrol one evening over the East China Sea, north of Taipei, when the radio DF operator caught the first bearing to an unidentified aircraft. A second bearing fix established the target’s course and speed—out away from the Chinese coast, heading to the north of the island of Formosa. The operators were also able to identify the VHF radio frequency of the target and eavesdrop on their uncoded conversations—they were speaking not Mandarin Chinese, not even Taiwanese or Hakka, but English! The Y-8 crew decided to pursue the targets out as far as they could to the east to find out where they were headed.

  Several DF bearings on several frequencies told the Y-8 crew members that there was more than one target in the area—they counted six so far, all heading east-northeast—but not toward Taipei, as the crew would’ve guessed. The targets all flew well north of the northern tip of Formosa. Because there were no fighter patrols up over the Nationalist capital—the airfields had been very effectively bombed out by Chinese missile and bomber attacks—the Y-8 crew decided to fly low, only 1,000 feet above the East China Sea, and cut east, close to Taipei. That way, they could track the targets no matter which way they headed.

  Their strategy worked. The targets gradually turned south, down into the Philippine Sea, and the Chinese Y-8 crew was" able to follow them. The VHF radio transmissions became more frequent. They also started receiving VHF bearings from Formosa—near the military base at Hualien. Was that possible? Hualien had been hit and destroyed by Chinese nuclear-tipped M-9 missiles days ago—that had been confirmed. Could it be possible that the Nationalists had rebuilt the base so quickly?

  There was only one way to find out—go take a look. The Y-8 crew started to fly south along the eastern Formosa coastline. Slowly, careful to avoid any ships or clusters of lights on shore, throttled back with minimum propeller pitch to cut down on noise, they inched their way along the coast toward Hualien. Soon, the target bearings were turning... turning westbound, right in front of the Y-8! Westbound? Hualien s runways were oriented generally north-south—the coastal mountains in this area to the west rose steeply out of the sea . . .

  . . . and suddenly, the Y-8’s observers on the starboard side spotted the military base at Hualien. It was as flat as a pancake. Not much detail could be seen, but the crumbled foundations, the large pieces of debris scattered everywhere, and the fires still burning in many places told them that the base was completely unusable.

  So where in blazes were the Taiwanese targets going?

  The Y-8 crew continued southbound until the radio DF bearings started to shift toward the north. According to their charts, the high terrain in this vicinity was over 12,000 feet, just fifteen miles to the northwest, but the alluvial plain southwest of Hualien was almost ten miles wide and would allow them to stay low while turning around. They started a starboard turn over the coast, looping around back to the northeast. If they kept the town of Hualien just off the starboard wingtip, they would be clear of the transmission lines along the highway to the west and well clear of the—

  The Y-8 crew heard a sudden rushing sound, which quickly grew into an ear-shattering roar. A jet fighter had just missed them! It had flown underneath them, about 200 feet lower than the big Y-8, heading northwest! That was insane, impossible! There was nothing to the northwest except 10,000- and 11,000-foot mountains. . . .

  But then they saw the glow of light from a wide chasm cut into the rocks, and the Y-8 pilot instinctively banked to port to head toward it— as long as he could see light, there were no mountains in the way. The light grew, expanded ... and then, to the crew’s amazement, they saw sequenced flashing landing lights There was an airfield down there! It was unbelievable! Impossible! The Y-8 banked hard to port and descended— and then they could clearly see inside the huge cave, and sure enough, there was an entire airstrip inside that monstrous cave! It was a secret rebel Nationalist airfield, actually built inside the mountain!

  This was too important a discovery—they had to break radio silence. The Y-8’s communications officer immediately sent out an emergency position report on the shortwave—the UHF radio would certainly not get out this deep in the mountains. He did not listen for a reply—he just continued to transmit the position as best he could estimate, adding that they had discovered a secret rebel airfield.

  Suddenly, a flash of light and a streak of fire erupted from the north part of the cave. In the blink of an eye, the streak of fire reached out across the sky and struck the number four engine. The engine exploded in a burst of fire, shearing off seven feet of the starboard wingtip along with it. The rebels had obviously detected the Y-8 crew’s HF transmissions and had instantly homed in on them, and the base was obviously very well defended. They added that bit of information to their continuous radio reports—and now it was time to get out of there as fast as they could!

  Full power on the other three good engines, full pitch, and the Y-8 started a slow climb. The pilots were flying on a prayer now—thank the stars the Y-8 was a tough bird. Only the quick work of the copilot to shut down the engine and cut off fuel from the right wing kept them from crashing in a ball of flame. As best they could estimate, they were heading for the Mei River valley, which cut westward up through the Chung Yang Mountains. They were at 3,000 feet and climbing at 1,500 feet per minute. On either side of the valley, the mountains rose very steeply— within five miles north and south of the river, the peaks were as high as 11,000 feet! It was completely pitch-black outside. He would have to trust his compass and his navigator to keep them in the valley long enough to climb to a safe altitude. The Chung Yang range was not very wide—in twenty miles, less than six or seven minutes, they would be at the summit. Once on the western side, they could hug the mountains until they were sure they could not be tracked, then pick their way west until they could get back over the Formosa Strait, then—

  The two Sidewinder missiles fired from the pursuing Taiwanese F-16 fighter each hit and destroyed an engine, tearing them off the wings in a huge ball of fire. The Y-8 burst into flames and veered sharply right, and it hit the granite wall of the mountains seconds later.

  But the Y-8’s radio operator had made over a dozen position and contact reports in that short period of time, and almost every one of his transmissions had been received by military listening posts in mainland China.

  The secret Taiwanese underground airfield at Kai-Shan was a secret no longer.

  OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT, GOVERNMENT HOUSE,

  BEIJING, CHINA A SHORT TIME LATER

  “We have them, Comrade Admiral!” Jiang Zemin said joyously as Admiral Sun Ji Guoming was ushered into the president’s office. “General Chin has just briefed me. A secret air base! Do you believe it? A secret underground air base in eastern Formosa, just a few miles west of Hualien, cut into the mountain itself. We have its exact location.” Admiral Sun did not react to the news. “Now is your chance, Comrade Admiral. You can attack and destroy the rebel Nationalists’ remaining air forces with ease.”

  Sun bowed to President Jiang and the chief of staff, General Chin, but remained silent for several long, uncomfortable moments. Finally: “Comrade President, I request permission to be relieved of duty.”

  General Chin rolled his eyes in co
mplete exasperation. Jiang laughed and said, “Relieved of duty? You are a national treasure, comrade! And victory is within your grasp, the victory you told me we could achieve before Reunification Day! One of our maritime patrols tracked a group of rebel F-16s back to their secret lair, an underground air base near Hualien. We sent in commandos, who verified their location. We must draw up a strike plan and destroy that facility immediately!”

  “Comrade General Chin’s forces are more than capable of destroying that facility, sir,” Sun said. “You do not need me any longer. I am of no use to you now. ”

  “Why do you say such things, comrade?” Jiang asked. “Are you ill? Did you suffer some family misfortune?”

  “I am unable to continue my duties because I feel we have lost our tao, ” Sun replied solemnly.

  “What in blazes are you talking about, Sun?” Chin exploded.

  “We have lost our way, our reason for going to war in the first place,” Sun said, keeping his eyes averted. “We may achieve a victory over the rebels, but we cannot win this conflict now. The tao we follow will not lead to a true and honorable victory. ”

  “That is nonsense, comrade,” Jiang said. “You have done well. It is your right, your destiny, to deliver the final blow to the Nationalists. This is a great honor we bestow on you. You deserve it.”

  “But this cannot be my victory because it is not my tao—it is the tao of Comrade General Chin,” Sun said. “The nuclear attack on Guam was his way, his road to victory. It is not mine. I cannot lead the People’s Liberation Army forces along this path.”

  “The Paramount Leader has conferred a great honor upon you, Sun,” Chin said impatiently. “Take it. Plan a strike mission using any air, rocket, or naval assets you desire. We expect this underground airfield complex to be destroyed or occupied by the People’s Liberation Army within forty-eight hours.”

  “I humbly request to be relieved of duty,” Sun intoned.

  “Request denied, Admiral,” Chin responded. “Carry out your orders. Present a strike plan to the Paramount Leader and myself within eight hours, and prepare to execute the plan within forty-eight hours.”

  “Sir, I humbly request you to accept my resignation from your service,” Sun Ji Guoming said, bowing deeply in total obeisance. “A man cannot follow other than his own tao. Mine is lost. I am of no usefulness to you any longer.”

  “That is not true, Comrade Admiral,” Jiang said. “What are you trying to tell us?”

  “I am saying that to return to the tao that will ensure victory, we must now strive to make peace just as ferociously as we strove to destroy,” Sun said. “We must gather our forces to our center and protect it, and in doing so show the world that we are no longer a threat. We should configure all our air and naval forces for defensive operations only. We should destroy all our remaining offensive ballistic missiles, and openly pledge never again to employ thermonuclear weapons—”

  “Are you insane, Sun?” Chin Po Zihong exploded. “Stop now? Obviously the rebels are far stronger than we anticipated. We need to destroy them quickly and utterly. And we need our nuclear-deterrent forces now more than ever to ensure that the United States will not attempt a massive attack against us.”

  “Sir, Sun-tzu teaches us that if faced with superior forces, do not fight. We may feel we have gained the upper hand, but Sun-tzu’s words are a warning to us. Our forces are not superior to the United States. The American forces are massing over the horizon. I can sense it. I can feel it. They have not been destroyed. I urge the Paramount Leader to immediately contact the American president and pray—no, I urge him to beg for peace. ”

  "What?” Chin retorted angrily. “Beg? We should beg the Americans?”

  “Yes, sir,” Sun said. “Now. Immediately. Before it is too late.”

  “Admiral Sun, you are dishonoring yourself by this flagrant display of pompous indignation and insubordination,” Chin said angrily. “Your request is denied. You are ordered to prepare a strike plan against the rebel Nationalist underground airfield complex and present it, in person, to me and the president’s staff within eight hours. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Sun replied.

  Chin looked at the president, who was looking at Sun Ji Guoming as if he had grown a second head on his shoulders. With no additional comments, Chin snapped, “Then get out of here.” Sun bowed again, turned, and departed. Once Sun had left, Chin said, “All that Sun-tzu crap has addled his brain, I think.”

  “Unfortunate,” Jiang Zemin said. “He appeared to be such a promising young officer. Perhaps we should reconsider this attack plan, Comrade General?”

  “Because Sun thinks it is not his ‘way’ to do this attack?” Chin retorted. “He is upset because his plan of waiting for the Nationalists to capitulate did not work. He is upset because in the end we had to use brute strength to shove the Americans out of Asia. He thought he could do it with unorthodox methods and trickery, and his lack of vision allowed the Nationalist air force and the Americans to counterattack. We cannot allow that to happen again. We are on the threshold of a great victory over the rebels on Formosa, comrade, and this attack will break the backs of the Nationalists once and for all. Every missile, every attack plane, every bomb we have available should be used against this mountain hideout. We shall pound the Nationalists’ mountain fortress into sand!”

  “But what if the Americans do stage a counteroffensive?” Jiang asked. “Perhaps we should be watchful, gather our forces, and prepare to repel an American attack. We can deter the Americans by sheer force of numbers. Surely they will not try a nuclear attack if we ask to begin peace negotiations now. ”

  “And then where will the rebels be? Rebuilding their forces, getting more assistance from the Americans, and conducting more hit-and-run air attacks on our forces,” Chin said. “No. We should attack the rebel mountain complex immediately. If Sun will not do it, I have many more competent generals who will.”

  OVER TAIWAN, REPUBLIC OF CHINA

  SUNDAY, 29 JUNE 1997, 0319 HOURS LOCAL (SATURDAY, 28 JUNE, 1419 HOURS ET)

  The attack began with a heavy missile bombardment with conventionally armed Dong Feng-9 and -11 missiles from the mainland. Their accuracy was not great, but it didn’t need to be—because more than three hundred missiles launched from sixteen different locations, with warheads ranging from 500 pounds to more than 1,700 pounds of high explosive, peppered the area around Kai-Shan for over an hour. Every square inch of a twenty-five-square-mile area around Kai-Shan was blasted away. Along with the effect of the nearby nuclear explosions at Hualien, the area resembled the surface of the moon in very short order.

  The second phase of the attack was by a completely new weapon system: China’s Type-031 attack submarine. In the day preceding the attack, the Type-031 sub, named the Yudao, had left its port at Shanghai and had cruised without incident right up to the mouth of the Mei River, less than five miles from the cave entrance to the Kai-Shan airfield complex, and waited. At the preplanned time, the Yudao surfaced, took a final targeting fix using its Golf-band targeting radar—aiming at a tiny radar reflector placed near the cave entrance by the Chinese commandos—and began firing Yinji-6 “Hawk Attack” guided missiles at the cave. The first four Yinji-6 missiles blasted open the movable armored doors to the cave entrance, finally exposing the interior of the complex to attack. Two of the remaining four Yinji-6 missiles flew inside the cave itself, creating spectacular gushes of fire and exploding rock from within.

  The third phase of the attack was the most impressive, and was certainly the largest Asian aerial attack force since Japan’s naval air forces in World War II. Led by thirty H-6 bombers, watched by an Ilyushin-76 radar plane, and guarded by ten Sukhoi-27 and thirty Xian J-8 air- superiority interceptors, an attack force of two hundred Nanchang Q-5 fighter-bombers, each carrying two 1,000-pound bombs plus a long- range fuel tank, swept over the island of Formosa to begin the attack on Kai-Shan.

  The H-6 bombers went first. From ten miles out, the
y launched huge Hai-Ying-4 missiles at the complex. These missiles merely flew straight to a set of coordinates, and were meant to knock down or destroy any rock outcroppings that might still be obstructing the cave entrance. Although the HY-4 missiles were not designed for land attack and some did not perform well in this hastily planned role, the destruction they caused left the attack path wide open for the waves of Q-5 bombers to follow.

  As if they were doing a standard traffic pattern entry to land on Kai- Shan’s underground runway, the Q-5 fighter-bombers flew eastbound over the Chung Yang Mountains at 1,000 feet above ground until they were about ten miles offshore, then turned southbound for three miles, then north westbound, descending to 500 feet and lining up on the cave entrance. The planned procedure was a “toss” delivery, where the pilots would pull up sharply about two miles in front of the cave, then pickle off the bombs, which would fly on a ballistic path right into the cave. There could be no delay on the pull-up—the Chung Yang Mountains rose from 500 feet to nearly 10,000 feet within five miles, so there was only a six-second margin of error. The best bombardiers from all over China were picked for this important mission.

  The first flight of ten Q-5 bombers started their runs, and the plan was working better than anticipated. The lead bombers announced that pilots could fly a hundred feet higher to get a flatter toss into the cave, because parts of the ceiling of the cave had collapsed and they couldn’t arc the bombs in quite as high anymore. As the first flight of Q-5 bombers cleared the target area, the second flight started their turn inbound on the attack course . . .

  . . . just in time to hear the warning screams over the command frequency: “Warning, warning, all aircraft...” and then the loud, incessant hiss of static. Pilots all over the sky over Taiwan were switching to alternate frequencies, but all they found there, after a few seconds of trying to speak, was more static. The 11-76 Candid radar plane orbiting over Formosa might as well have been back on the ground, because no one could hear or talk with its all-important radar controllers.