Two Peasants and a President

by Frederick Aldrich

  ******

  The State Department had finally succeeded in reaching an aide to the ambassador at the Chinese Embassy. Valerie Waters, the Secretary of State, had asked to speak to the ambassador himself but was told that he was indisposed at the moment, leaving her no choice but to, in diplomatic speak, ask the aide what the hell was going on. He at first feigned ignorance of what she was referring to, but with the decibel level of her voice rising steadily, he moved on to the subject they both knew was the reason for her call.

  “Madame Secretary,” he began unctuously, “aside from certain naval training exercises that were planned months in advance, I am unaware of any ship movements that should be of any concern to the United States.”

  “So, let me get this straight,” said Waters, her irritation growing, “you wish me to believe that when China’s entire northern fleet suddenly sorties into open ocean, it is nothing that should be of any concern to the United States?”

  “May I remind you,” he continued in a condescending tone he made no attempt whatsoever to conceal, “that China is on one side of the Earth and the United States is on the other. Therefore, what goes on in our waters need not concern you.”

  “I think it’s time that we discontinue this charade and you put the ambassador on the line,” Waters said curtly.

  “As I said,” Madame Secretary, “he is indisposed.”

  Then the line went dead. Waters found herself wondering how a once powerful nation had been reduced to a supplicant in the eyes of China and much of the world. That the United States Secretary of State had not even been afforded the courtesy of speaking with the ambassador was in itself an insult. But the far greater insult was that there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. The current situation was the inevitable result of the actions of a nation whose greed and mismanagement had allowed it to become subservient to another. It was hardly unique from a historical perspective, but then few politicians in America knew or cared much about history. By contrast, China always kept history in mind and, more importantly, China learned from it.

  As the president listened, it quickly became clear from his conversation with the Secretary of State that they were no closer to understanding what was going on than they had been several hours ago. During the morning press briefing, his press secretary had stood lamely claiming that as far as he knew, there was nothing terribly unusual about the activities in the Yellow Sea. His assertion was met with open skepticism bordering on revolt by a press corps that was well aware from world-wide sources that virtually China’s entire northern fleet had suddenly sortied east and south from their bases. One media outlet published a cartoon of a sky-full of intercontinental ballistic missiles headed toward the US, while the president’s press secretary explained that it was nothing to be concerned about.

  Several Republican senators, including of course Virgil Baines, had asked in interviews with various media how it was that the United States seemed so clueless as to the reason for this? The pressure was mounting on the President and, aside from ascribing the uproar to purely partisan politics, to which he resorted ever more frequently, he was left with few options. As the clock ticked closer to the meeting with the heir-apparent to the Chinese presidency, his unease mounted. That he was as facile a speaker as any US president in recent memory did not lessen his dread at having to tell the country that he had no clue what was going on.

  ******

  Captain Davis calculated that they had crossed into South Korean waters, but any solace that might be derived from that fact was purely theoretical since China would doubtless disregard any such distinction. The captain was scanning the horizon for any signs of a warship or coast guard cutter when Ping appeared behind him with a cup of tea.

  “For our hero,” she said in heavily accented English.

  “Dear lady,” he replied, “it is you who are our hero.” As Dr. Min translated, Ping smiled and as she did, the captain looked into gentle eyes reaching out from a noble soul that had risen above so much tragedy and pain to help two young Americans.

  “I’m going to do everything in my power to help you and your friends come to the United States, if that is your wish.” A wide smile answered his question.

  Zhou’s deep voice broke the spell and the captain turned to see his outstretched arm aiming at a point off the stern. He had seen a glint of sunlight reflected off something, but even with binoculars, it was hard to make out what type of ship it was. Whatever it was seemed headed in the direction of two small fishing boats they had passed earlier. What went unsaid was that if it was a naval ship, the search was getting closer.

  Holly appeared at the top of the steps with a tray filled with bowls of steaming rice topped with something unrecognizable. Everyone was hungry and no one questioned what they were eating since it was obviously what they were going to get. Holly triumphantly held up a spoon like it was treasure from the bottom of the sea. With it she proceeded to scoop what she assumed was fish and rice into her mouth. To her surprise it tasted quite good. Zhou’s grandmother, who had prepared the food, joined them carrying her bowl and chopsticks. Everyone held his bowl up in a toast to her cooking. She beamed a toothless smile.

  When they were finished, Zhou reached into a locker and held up a bottle of rice wine. His grandmother disappeared down the steps, returning with a tray of tiny glasses. The objects of one of the largest manhunts in history looked at each other for what they knew might be the last time and raised their glasses.

  The captain handed his empty glass to Zhou’s grandmother and picked up the binoculars again. Perhaps three miles away, the bow of what appeared to be a warship was aimed squarely at the Dawn Flower.

  “Trouble,” he said. It needed no translation. Zhou took the microphone off its cradle and handed it to the captain.

  “To any South Korean naval vessel, this is Captain Richard J. Davis, United States Navy Retired. I repeat: To any South Korean naval vessel, this is Captain Richard J. Davis, United States Navy Retired. We are being pursued by unknown Chinese warship attempting to return us against our wills to Tianjin. There are three Americans aboard who were kidnapped by Chinese authorities and are attempting to escape. Please acknowledge. Out.”

  Zhou then broadcast in Chinese the emergency call. Thirty seconds later he repeated the radio call and an updated position report. Then he picked up the binoculars again as the captain repeated the distress call in English. The warship was now close enough to make out its forward gun mount and the red flag atop its mast.

  The radio’s speaker crackled with a response in Chinese: Dr. Min listened, then confirmed that they were being hailed by a Chinese frigate, ordered to heave to and prepare to be boarded. Everyone aboard had agreed that they would go as far as they could and if they were overtaken and sunk, so be it. To a man (and woman) everyone on the Dawn Flower preferred death on the high seas to bullet in the neck on the dirt field outside in Hospital #77.

  The captain repeated his radio call again. The only response was the howling sound of a 100mm round as it screamed over the wheelhouse and geysered a quarter mile off the bow.

  “Mayday, Mayday,” the captain shouted into the microphone, repeating his distress call. Everyone ducked reflexively as the next round passed even closer. This time the geyser was barely two hundred yards in front of them. As the captain repeated his mayday call, his voice was drowned out by the slapping of air that could only be a helicopter. It had lifted off the frigate’s stern and was now hovering fifty yards off the starboard bow, a machine gunner sitting in the open door, his weapon trained on the Dawn Flower.

  The captain yelled to everyone but Zhou to get below decks where they would at least stand a chance of surviving what was now inevitable. He intended to continue his mayday call until he was dead. As he began to speak into the microphone one more time, he could see the machine gunner pull back the charging handle and prepare to fire. He shoved Zhou to the deck as the first rounds exploded the glass in the wheelhouse. The heavy steel-clad bullets t
ore away chunks of the wood which, along with shards of metal and glass, rained down on Zhou and the captain, now flattened on the wheelhouse floor.

  The machine gunner paused while a loud speaker announced something in Chinese that did not require translation. Then Captain Davis did something that amazed Zhou. He pulled out the 9mm pistol that had belonged to the hospital guard, got to his feet and, using a shot out window frame as a rest, carefully aimed it at the machine gunner.

  Fifty yards is a long shot for a pistol with a five inch barrel but, using a rest, it is well within the capability of a skilled shooter. More importantly, as far as the captain was concerned, it would send a message to the Chinese navy that the United States Navy would not ever surrender without a fight – Ever!!

  The absurd sight of the tall, grey-haired American aiming a pistol at him startled the machine gunner just long enough for the captain to get off three quick shots. The first was low and right and ricocheted off the open door of the helicopter, the second startled the gunner as it flew past the his head, buying the captain another second to compensate. The third tore into the right shoulder of the gunner. Enraged, he ignored the searing pain and aimed his sight squarely at the chest of American, who would continue to fire until he was cut down.

  The captain could see a smile on the face of the machine-gunner as he prepared to end the life of the impudent American, but the second of the next two rounds from the Chinese pistol found the center of his chest just above his body armor. The machine gunner looked down in disbelief at the hot blood now flowing out of the wound. In his final act, he pressed the trigger of his machine gun, but the last thing he heard was not the sound of bullets, but the scream of South Korean jets.

  The two American-made F-16’s were doing more than five hundred knots when they passed in full-afterburner on either side of the helicopter. The 32,000 pounds of back blast from the big General Electric engines picked up the helicopter like a child’s toy, cart-wheeling into the sea. Captain Davis ran out on the deck, waving as the jets made another pass, this time to make it clear to the Chinese frigate that it would be well-advised to withdraw. The frigate’s captain concurred, knowing that his frigate’s armament was no match the F-16’s missiles and cannon. He radioed his situation and came about.

  Seeing Zhou picking himself up off the deck, apparently unhurt, the captain raced downed the steps to check on the others. He found them huddled in the machinery spaces below decks, desperately frightened but unhurt. When she heard the superstructure disintegrating under the hail of machine gun bullets, Holly had been certain that her grandfather was dead. Now he was standing before her with an indescribable look on his face, like he’d just sunk the whole damn Chinese navy. She threw her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could.

  Suddenly they heard Zhou screaming in the wheelhouse. The captain told them to get their heads down as he raced back up the steps, his exhilaration melting into fear as he prepared for what he might find there. Once again, Zhou stood with arm extended, pointing to something off the bow. But when the captain’s eyes followed Zhou’s arm, what he saw was the most beautiful sight in the world: the USS Hawaii, on the surface not more than fifty yards away. Captain Sidney Ralston was on its sail holding a megaphone.

  “Captain Davis,” his amplified voice boomed, “I’m sending an inflatable to pick up you and Mr. and Mrs. Walker. We have very little time; there’s a destroyer ten klicks from here moving at high speed. I don’t have to tell you what my sub looks like on its radar right about now.”

  The captain rushed into the wheel house and yelled down into the engine room for everyone to get topside as quickly as possible. By the time everyone was on the deck, two US sailors holding life jackets were waiting on the deck, nervously glancing over their shoulder in the direction of the approaching destroyer.

  There were only three life jackets. When Holly realized what was happening, her expression changed from elation to grim determination. She stood squarely in front of her grandfather.

  “I’m not leaving without Ping!”

  Her grandfather looked her squarely in the eye: “If we don’t leave right now, young lady, we won’t ever leave. We‘ll send someone back for our friends.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not leaving without Ping. If it weren’t for her, I’d be in pieces now.”

  The Chinese standing on the deck saw the American sailors with only three life jackets. The fishing boat had its own life preservers, but the message was nevertheless clear: the Americans intended to abandon them. Disappointment etched their faces as they grimly awaited their fate. Without saying another word, the captain grabbed one of the life jackets and started to help Ping into it.

  “You two get those life jackets on,” he said to Holly and Ray, “and help me get Ping into the inflatable. We don’t have time to argue.”

  The megaphone barked an urgent warning that they were out of time. With the help of the two sailors, Ping, Holly and Ray were lowered into the inflatable and its small outboard quickly propelled them to the side of the sub. Before she disappeared through the hatch on its sail, Holly looked back at her grandfather. It had all happened so fast; she’d thought they’d all been saved but suddenly she was saying good bye. Two minutes later, the sub had slipped beneath the waves.

  There hadn’t been enough time for the sub’s crew to stow the inflatable and knowing it might well end up saving their lives, the captain dove over the side and swam toward it. It was soon tethered to the stern. Zhou was checking the controls in the wheelhouse. The throttle and radio had been shot away, but the steering gear was still intact. He ordered one crewman below to manually control the engine speed and two more to pass orders down from the bridge. Captain Davis held the binoculars to his eyes.

  “We’ve got company.”

  54

  A ship more heavily armed as the one captain Davis had once commanded was now closing at over 30 knots. Over five hundred feet in length, the size of a World War I battleship, the Type 052C destroyer was not unfamiliar to the captain, its 48 long-range surface-to-air missiles, 8 anti-ship / land attack cruise missiles, 2 - 30mm close-in weapons systems, 6 torpedo tubes and 100mm main deck gun made it the pride of the Chinese navy and a dangerous foe of the United States.

  The destroyer was clearly not looking for a fishing boat; that could be dealt with later. There was no doubt that it had seen the submarine surface and was now tracking it. By revealing himself, Captain Ralston had placed the USS Hawaii in jeopardy. The captain knew Sidney Ralston to be a careful man; they had spent considerable time together. Why had he risked his submarine to rescue three of his countrymen?

  The greater question: is China looking for a war? The Dawn Flower and the USS Hawaii were now, beyond any doubt, in South Korean waters. Could China possibly be so arrogant that they would sink a United States warship to cover up what had been going on in Tianjin Central Hospital #77. Or had they moved beyond that? Was this to be the ultimate demonstration of their power and the United States’ weakness? If they did sink the submarine, what would the American president do? What could he do?

  The limits of American power and that of the president would be on display for all the world to see if the destroyer, now clearly visible, fired its weapons. The United States had reached a point where it needed China more than China needed it. China’s mighty economy would be hurt but not crippled by American tariffs and sanctions. The American economy, at its weakest point in more than eighty years, had neither the industrial might nor the natural resources at its disposal to survive a long war with China.

  This is not 1941. The United States is not a relatively cohesive society that could be counted on to pull together to face a common threat. The ‘Melting Pot’ had fractured into competing interests, religions and values It was now questionable how many Americans actually consider themselves Americans first – or something else. Would the smart phone generation sacrifice their tablets, video games and flat screen televisions in a national emergency? Or would the
enormous stress of open military conflict with China propel the United States into chaos rather than victory?

  As Captain Davis watched five hundred feet of enemy destroyer closing on the spot where the USS Hawaii had submerged, he realized that what would happen in the next few moments could become one of the most important inflection points in modern history.

  Then he noticed something that, at least for the Dawn Flower, was a far more immediate threat. The frigate that had fled when the South Korean F- 16’s appeared was now trailing the destroyer, obviously seeking the protection of its formidable anti-aircraft defenses. No longer fearing air attack, it was free to take care of unfinished business, namely the fishing boat that had made the breakout possible.

  With the radio shot out, there would be no more mayday calls, and the South Korean coast was still little more than a smudge on the horizon. At less than one third the speed of the frigate, the fugitives’ elderly fishing boat would be overtaken in a matter of minutes.

  The air-slapping sound once again drew the captain’s attention to the Helix antisubmarine helicopter lifting off the stern of the destroyer. Armed with torpedoes and a modern version of depth charges, it is a formidable sub killer. But the Hawaii was also a highly capable submarine and if either the Helix or the destroyer loosed weapons at her, the rules of engagement specifically authorized her to return fire. Captain Davis, the only living captain on the planet to have survived such an engagement, felt the same cold chill he experienced that day in the Gulf of Mexico. Unless there was a stand down, today a ship would die. He prayed it would not be the USS Hawaii.

  The frigate veered off, the sharp silhouette of its bow clearly showing it was now headed for the Dawn Flower. Zhou’s father spoke to his son in words that by their dark tone needed no translation. The grandmother began to weep. The captain put his only fresh magazine into the pistol. He told Dr. Min to ask the police officer, who had the only other gun on board, if he was prepared to kill anyone who attempted to board the Dawn Flower. The police officer looked at the captain and nodded, but it was obvious that though he carried a gun, he had never faced one.