The Elephant Game

by Andrew Watts

  “We don’t know, sir. Zhang is close with several Politburo members and military leaders that are in Jinshan’s circle. Perhaps he saw or overheard something…”

  “What could be at this camp that would be so important? General, any thoughts?”

  General Schwartz said, “Perhaps they have a weapon there? It could be chemical or biological. I honestly don’t know. But with recent events in North Korea, and Jinshan’s rise to power, I think it’s pretty crucial that we find out.”

  19

  David watched from his hotel room. He was doing pushups with the news on in the background. The news commentators were chatting about how the president was under a lot of political pressure to push China harder after the recent revelations of hostile acts against the United States.

  “Can’t say I disagree with that,” he said to an empty room. He turned over and began doing sit-ups.

  The newscaster said, “In the White House’s prereleased remarks, it looks like the president is going to address this criticism directly. He is not only going to address the missile test in North Korea, but he will also say that ‘America will not be challenged by rogue persons or rogue nations.’ To me, this is reminiscent of George W. Bush’s comments on the ‘Axis of Evil’ after September eleventh.”

  The talking heads went on for several minutes, agreeing with each other ad nauseam.

  The newscaster said, “Okay, here he comes. He’s walking out along the red carpet in the East Room. This is very symbolic. Typically, presidents only do this when they have something of monumental importance to say. A big national security policy change, for example. Okay, I’ll be quiet now as we hear the president speak.”

  The American president walked up to the podium, gripping it firmly with both hands. “My fellow Americans, I come to you tonight in the shadows of great sadness, but with the hope of a stronger and more secure future. Recent events have left us feeling anger and despair. I have been to several funerals in the past month. None of them were easy. I told the families that their sons and daughters did not die in vain. And now, I want to speak with you about how we must honor that pledge.”

  He took a sip of water. “Rogue actors and rogue nations have for too long been allowed to dictate their own destiny. But no more. We as a country saw what happens when irrational actors—such as China’s Cheng Jinshan—get hold of military capability. While rogue members of the Chinese government were responsible for these recent tragedies, there are still elements around the world that pose a threat to America’s interests and security. So, I say to these rogue actors and rogue nations tonight—be warned. To North Korea, know that America will no longer turn a blind eye to you. Be warned. If China will not act to quell the hostilities of its neighbors, then we will. And when our enemies test us, we must strike. We will not callously put our country in unnecessary danger. We will strike, before our enemies are able to act.

  “If China wants to avoid further military conflict, they must do three things. One—in response to recent Chinese aggression, the United States demands that China implement a downsizing of military forces, to be agreed to in a treaty, and that they consent to inspection by international inspectors. Two—China must immediately begin its withdrawal from the Spratley Islands and end its land grabs of non-Chinese territory around the world. Three—and this is most important—China must fully support the nuclear disarmament of North Korea.”

  The president paused and took a breath, taking stock of his surroundings. “America will be a safer place. It will be a more secure country, because of our improved relationship with China. But we will enforce peace through the strength of our great military. God bless America.”

  With that, the president turned and walked back down the red carpet.

  David was sitting up, holding his knees and sweating. That was certainly a different type of speech.

  The news show host said, “So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. The president is walking back down the red carpet of the East Room after giving his speech. It only lasted a few minutes. But the message was…well, let’s hear takes from our panel…”

  The first talking head, a white-haired man who was described as a professor at the Kennedy School, said, “Well, I must admit I am surprised at the list of demands that the president sent to China. Normally that would be done through diplomatic means…”

  “Which means it was probably political?” came the host.

  “Well, I don’t know that it was necessarily political. But the fact that he used this forum—I think that at least means that China wasn’t the only audience for this speech. The president wants the American people to know that he is responding to both North Korea and China with strength. This is a president who draws red lines and sticks to them. So, I think clearly the president wants to send a strong message around the world that the United States will not be trifled with anymore.”

  The host said, “So is the problem that it wasn’t clear where the red lines are?”

  “Perhaps. I mean, he did list off those demands for China to comply with. But aside from that, I don’t believe I know where the red lines are for North Korea.”

  “Did anyone else feel that way?”

  Another person on the panel said, “I completely agree. The tone was right. And that will silence some of the doubters and satisfy those who were calling for a stronger response to Chinese hostilities, but aside from that, it was very vague. I mean, he kept saying, ‘be warned.’ I wrote it down here, he said, ‘If our enemies proceed to test us, we will strike…’ Now, that’s a very tough statement. But you can really interpret it any way you want, can’t you? I mean, what does it mean to test us? Does that mean that North Korea can test-fire a nuclear missile into the ocean? As they have been doing? Is that testing us? Is he saying that we’re going to strike North Korea for their accidental missile breakup over Japan? Is that against this new set of rules that the president has set down?”

  “I think that may have been one of the things that he wanted to call out, yes.”

  Another panel member said, “I think that the president did a great job tonight. He was very clear, I think. Very clear. China is now on notice. North Korea, Iran, Russia. They are all now on notice. This president isn’t afraid to fight back. I think that’s what we should take away from what we saw here tonight.”

  The host said, “So where is the line drawn?”

  The champion of the president said, “We are finally drawing a line. The recent hostile acts by China will not be tolerated. And our military responded with appropriate deadly force in the Pacific, when challenged. And now everyone else who wishes to do us harm should be warned as well. I think the president did a fabulous job in communicating that. And I’m pleased to see that he listed a clear set of demands for China. They can’t just blame this on a rogue politician or businessman or whatever this Cheng Jinshan fellow is over there. Now the whole country is going to be held responsible. And I think that’s a smart move by the president. I’ll tell you what else I liked. I also liked that he tied in China and North Korea together. Because let’s face it, folks, North Korea has their nuclear technology because of China. And it’s about time that China began to police them the way they should.”

  David grabbed the remote and shut off the TV. He was halfway through another set of sit-ups when his phone let out an alert noise on his bed. David grabbed it and checked the number.

  It was a text message from Tetsuo.

  Meeting with Natesh. 30 minutes.

  20

  Major Mason sat in the auditorium with the US Air Force crew of seven other pilots and combat systems officers, all waiting to receive their mission brief. It was just two crews today. The doors were shut, as was normal. But their CO—commanding officer of the Ninth Bomb Squadron—was present, which was not normal.

  Something big was going down.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. Here is the plan for the sortie tonight.” The intelligence officer had a somber look.

  Th
e briefing took an hour. There were a lot of raised eyebrows and exchanged glances. When it was finished, the commanding officer said, “Anyone has questions, now’s the time.”

  There were a few questions about tanker positions and timing, and fighter cover. Then Major Chuck “Hightower” Mason, who was flying as pilot in command of the lead B-1B, raised his hand.

  “Sir, I’m not sure if this is my place, but do we expect any repercussions from this?”

  “Repercussions?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The commanding officer said, “I think we will need to be ready for anything, Hightower. Fly safe.”

  The room was oddly silent as they got up to depart. The pilots and combat systems officers all realized that this mission would be different. Many of them were combat veterans. They had dropped ordnance in Iraq and Afghanistan. But that airspace was definitely not the Korean peninsula. Spending hours loitering tens of thousands of feet over the mountains of Afghanistan, waiting until a forward air controller called in close air support, was one thing. There wasn’t much in the way of return fire up that high.

  North Korea was loaded with air defense assets.

  Only two crews would go on this mission. There were squadrons of B-1Bs and B-2s currently deployed to Anderson Air Force Base on Guam. But this mission would only use the B-1s. A limited strike.

  The major thought that sentiment was laughable. There was no such thing as a limited strike when it came to North Korea. They couldn’t predict what might happen after the bombs dropped. While he appreciated that his target was a good one, he questioned the wisdom of upping the ante like this. If the United States was going to attack North Korea, his opinion was that it had to be all or nothing. But he was just a major. No one had asked him.

  “You believe this shit?” His combat systems officer was the mission commander for his aircraft.

  “What about it?”

  “Come on. Don’t pretend you aren’t wondering the same thing I am. You were the one who asked the question on everyone’s mind. What comes next? After we drop these bombs.”

  “Could be something they aren’t telling us.”

  “Maybe. But I don’t think so. The B-2 guys aren’t briefing. Most of our squadron isn’t briefing.”

  “I think the generals are trying to have it both ways by just sending us in. They’re trying to blow up a little missile silo and hope North Korea doesn’t get too pissed.”

  “That’s a gamble, man. Dudes at the Pentagon must be smoking some good shit, that’s all I can say.”

  “Yeah, well. Shit, I don’t know. I just work here.”

  They walked into the base ops building in their green flight suits and jackets, their survival vests over top. They put their helmets and oxygen masks on for preflight. They took turns checking that their oxygen masks were working properly on a small gray box. Flipping switches, one at a time. The process was second nature. They did it before every flight. Fast hand movements, clicks, the swing of a needle, and on to the next guy. The sound of aircraft auxiliary power units cranking up outside on the flight line.

  The birds were already preflighted. The “Bone,” as the B-1 was called, was one of the largest and fastest bombers ever made. Originally designed as a high-speed addition to the nuclear triad, it had been brought into the world to drop nuclear weapons on the Soviet Union back during the Cold War.

  The B-1B could fly over nine hundred miles per hour and carry more than seventy-five thousand pounds of munitions. Hundreds of support personnel had been deployed to Guam to keep the giant supersonic aircraft flying.

  Hightower and his crew sat in the back of a golf cart, riding from their squadron building over to the aircraft. They were dropped off about fifty feet away. Hightower made one long walk, all the way around the Bone. It was sleek. It was aerodynamic. It was beautiful, and he loved flying it. Personally, he was glad that it no longer supported the nuclear mission. He didn’t like the idea of training for something that he hoped he would never have to do.

  Growing up outside the Houston area, Hightower had been interested in only two things during his high school days: football and girls. He hadn’t been a star in either area, although he liked to say otherwise. But he had really wanted to play Division 1 college football. He’d wanted to be on TV on Saturday. So he had written letters to every college football coach in the NCAA Division 1 field. Only one had written back. Fortunately for him, he’d performed at least well enough academically to be looked at by the US Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. They’d said that he could fly jets after graduation. He had only cared that they were a D1 football program.

  He had had no idea what he was in for.

  He thought about his first few months at the Academy all those years ago. Upperclassmen screaming at him, the high altitude of the mountain air starving him of oxygen, and the rigorous football practices and engineering classes sucking away all his energy each night. By his second year in Colorado Springs, he had hit his stride. Hightower had hit the books and made solid marks. He’d found that he was prouder of being part of the US Air Force team than of being a football player, although that was great too.

  Now, looking back on it, he knew that all that hard work was just so that he could get here. Graduating the Academy was just the start. The years of grueling flight school studies. Rigorous survival training out in the desert. Combat mission around the world. Studying and putting up with the everyday bullshit of the military.

  It was all for this.

  His one moment to stand up and answer the call. To write his sentence in a history book. He just hoped to God that the following paragraph would be a good one.

  Hightower climbed up the ten-step ladder situated underneath the aircraft cabin. It was like climbing into a spaceship, the jet was so huge. The South Pacific breeze was a steady fifteen knots off the flight line, whipping the pant legs of his green flight suit as he climbed, grabbing hold of the metal rails, his helmet bag in his gloved hand.

  Today would be routine, but different. The two combat systems officers were hopping up onto their elevated seats in the rear of the cabin. Dozens of green-lit screens and gray buttons. They were setting everything up for the mission, making sure there would be no surprises. Checking ordnance status, communications frequencies, electronic measures, and probably saying a few prayers while they were at it.

  Hightower slipped into the left pilot seat. His copilot was already sitting in the right. They began their own preflight checklists. The copilot would read what to do, and Hightower would flip the switch and confirm that it had been done.

  Before long, they had clearance from ground control and were moving the throttles forward. The plane captain in front of his nose, wearing an orange vest and ear protection, moving his arms and then signaling to brake. Brakes checked, and they taxied on until they arrived at the hold short line. Takeoff clearance from tower, and then the power of the ancient gods revealed itself—the four General Electric turbofan engines, each one capable of producing more than seventeen thousand pounds of thrust, propelled them down the runway.

  Hightower pulled back on the yoke, and they began their rapid climb out.

  “Landing gear up. Time to go bomb North Korea.”

  The mission was scheduled to take ten hours.

  Navigation was a bitch. While they always had carried charts and backed themselves up with the navigational beacons of the past, the truth was that the entire military had grown overly reliant on global positioning systems.

  GPS had been the greatest thing ever in the 1990s and 2000s. Laser-guided bombs allowed them to place munitions on the rooftop of a vehicle. GPS integration allowed them to place munitions on target without having the hassle of a laser designator involved. And GPS allowed for precise timing and navigation. It wasn’t just a matter of being in the right place. Precise navigation would mean more efficient fuel use, which would extend range, decrease refueling, and increase the non-fuel payload.

  Then the 2010s had come,
and people had begun seriously worrying about the overreliance on GPS. What about the next war? What about GPS spoofing? For less than fifty dollars, one could purchase a cheap GPS jamming device that would block the signal around a vehicle. For a few hundred dollars, a person could purchase a GPS jammer that would extend for several city blocks.

  The military planners began worrying about the need for antijammers to augment their GPS navigation and GPS-guided munitions.

  Now, flying over the Pacific at just under the speed of sound, Hightower shook his head at that tactic. They didn’t need to worry about someone jamming the GPS signal. They needed to worry about a nation-state destroying the entire GPS network.

  Which was exactly what China had done. Their cyber warriors had used—ironically—an American-made worm to hack into the GPS and military communications satellites. From there, they had been able to render many of them useless.

  “Compton, how we doing?” Compton was only a first lieutenant, the junior of their two combat systems officers on board. This was his first deployment. But he was a sharp kid. Asked good questions when appropriate, but also knew when to keep his mouth shut. He was doing a lot of the navigating for this mission and coordinating with the refueling plane.

  “Good, Hightower. Tanker should be about one hundred miles to the north.”

  “Roger.” The senior combat systems officer was giving him pointers, he knew. And probably double-checking everything he did. No room for error today.

  The KC-135 was right where it was supposed to be. None of the normal communications were made during today’s refueling. They were being covert. They used lights to signal when they were ready. The refueling probe came down from the tanker, and Hightower carefully maneuvered his large, sleek bomber into position. Aerial refueling was extremely difficult. His aircraft was blown around by strong wind gusts as well as slices of wake turbulence from the tanker. He had to make constant tiny adjustments with his yoke and throttle to get into the right position. A crewman aboard the KC-135 saw Hightower’s copilot flash his light, the signal to lower the probe the rest of the way. In it went, and thousands of pounds of jet fuel began streaming into his aircraft.