by Andrew Watts
“General?” His chief of staff was softly calling his name, pulling him from his thoughts.
He glowered at the colonel. “What is it?”
“Did you want to include this slide? We redid it from this morning.”
General Chen had lit into his staffers for not having updated positions on the carrier group outside Japan. Now it showed the two newest Chinese aircraft carriers, a few hundred kilometers to the east of Tokyo.
“What are they still doing there?”
“Sir?”
“The Northern Fleet. What are their orders right now? What are they doing?”
“Sir, they are headed toward Hawaii.”
“Well, why aren’t they farther along?”
The colonel turned to the slide, and then to the other staff officers sitting behind him. One of them shook his head. “I believe that their orders are to arrive at the same time as the Southern Fleet, sir. Because the distance is much shorter for the Northern Fleet, they are traveling at a slower speed.”
The colonel looked back at his superior, bracing for another storm of spittle and screams.
“How far is Hawaii? How many days’ travel?”
“About two weeks, sir. Ten days if they exceed their fuel consumption limitations,” said one of the staff members.
“You said that the USS Ford was spotted near Midway Atoll?”
“Yes sir. Our reconnaissance satellite sent imagery this morning, before it was destroyed by American antisatellite weapons.”
The satellites were being shot down as quickly as they went up. It was a wonder that it had sent anything at all.
“And what of Midway? Do they have reinforcements there yet?” The Americans were reportedly sending reinforcements to several of the small Pacific islands. Some type of special defensive perimeter was being set up.
The colonel again looked back at his staffers. The TV screen changed to an image of Midway Atoll. The tiny island barely surrounded the perpendicular runways. Construction vehicles sat on one of the runways. A scattering of vegetation and buildings covered the rest of the island, red circles with simplified Chinese inscriptions next to them, reading “Surface-to-Air Missiles” and “Air Defense Radar.” One large construction site said, “Unknown Tower Antennae.”
“It appears that the defenses have been set up, sir. But we still expect many more reinforcements to be brought in, as only a few aircraft are currently stationed there.”
“How far is Midway from the carrier positions?”
“Perhaps seven days, sir.”
General Chen grunted. He took another sip of tea and let his eyes stare off into the distance. His staff officers looked at each other, wondering if he was still with them.
“Continue…”
His men went on, but the general wasn’t really listening. His mind was turning over an idea.
That evening, Chairman Cheng Jinshan and the other leaders gathered for their nightly roundtable. Military intelligence experts updated them on the progress of the war. Then came the conversations between the leadership team and Jinshan. These were the moments where strategy was decided. Where decisions were made on which targets to attack, and how.
As chairman of the Central Military Commission, Cheng Jinshan was the de facto leader of the military. But each of the members at this table jockeyed for position and influence. Several were politicians, members of the Standing Committee—the most powerful members of the National People’s Congress. These men were infatuated with the idea that the war would be won at sea, with a brand-new technology. They didn’t see that it was actually General Chen’s job to make many of these military decisions. He saw the way they looked at him. As if he was their intellectual inferior.
One of the military intelligence briefers said, “The Jiaolong Battle Group has been resupplied and is now headed north. In two weeks’ time, she will reach Hawaii.”
Jinshan said, “What is the level of military readiness at Hawaii and the lesser island installations?”
The minister of state security said, “We have conflicting reports, sir. It is possible that some of our sources inside America have been compromised. We are looking into this. But our best estimate is that the American military is strengthening there. Many of their aircraft were evacuated from Guam and now reside at those airfields.”
“That concerns me.”
The head of the MSS replied, “I assure you, sir, we are doing everything that we can do to verify the accuracy of our human intelligence.”
Jinshan frowned. “We attempt to deceive them, and they attempt to deceive us. But seeing for oneself is better than hearing from many others.” Jinshan turned to the military intelligence officer who had been conducting the presentation. “Thank you for your report. Please allow us time to converse.”
The briefers left the room and shut the door. Now it was time for General Chen to make his move. He leaned forward over the table, holding his head high. “Chairman Jinshan. I have evaluated the latest intelligence and find the current plans to be insufficient. Waiting for the Southern Fleet to arrive will take too long. During that time, Americans will continue to strengthen their military forces there. It also gives them time to find potential weaknesses in our Jiaolong-class ships…”
Admiral Zhang, head of the PLA Navy, frowned. “Weaknesses?”
General Chen ignored him. “I propose a preliminary strike on the American fleet before the Southern Fleet arrives.”
Jinshan seemed unusually tired today, General Chen thought. Jinshan’s eyes went to the side of the room. General Chen followed his gaze and saw her sitting there in the corner. What was she doing here?
Chen continued. “I recommend that we use our Northern Fleet and strike the Americans near Midway. We have two carriers to their one. We shall hit them with speed, surprise, and overwhelming force. It will be a decisive victory. Then our path to Hawaii will be clear.”
Admiral Zhang said, “With respect, General, the Jiaolong-class ship is unrivaled, and its new technology gives us a clear advantage.”
General Chen’s face darkened. “And like any military hardware, its novelty decays by the day.”
A lively argument commenced, with several passive-aggressive jabs thrown at General Chen. He would remember each offense, and strike back when the time was right.
Jinshan stood, holding himself up with the table. The arguments ceased. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” Jinshan’s eyes were closed, a grimace of discomfort on his face. One of his bodyguards was at his side, holding his arm.
Li rose from her chair. Lena, he corrected himself. She went to Jinshan’s other side and took that arm, escorting him to the door.
A slow, silent march. Each of Jinshan’s footfalls was inspected carefully by the leaders at the table, their eyes filled with worry and thought. Had Jinshan’s health deteriorated this quickly? General Chen knew Jinshan was ill. Had Chen been so preoccupied with war planning and palace intrigue that he had overlooked just how bad Jinshan had gotten?
If there was a change at the top, it would be swift. Chen looked at the other faces around the table. Each of these men was a political predator. General Chen didn’t see this as an undesirable trait. Men like him lived in the jungle. It was a way of life. Here they were, hungry cannibals on a desert island, studying each other for the first sign of weakness.
The door shut as Jinshan left the room. The members of the leadership team looked shocked.
His personal aide, looking nervous, said, “The chairman has retired for the evening. He requests that you continue without him.”
It appeared that sign of weakness had come.
The arguing commenced immediately. Little was decided. After a while, the group adjourned and went their separate ways. Each leader meeting with his staff behind closed doors, plotting his next moves.
General Chen once again sat behind his desk. His plan to attack Midway was a very good idea, surely. Jinshan had heard the beginnings of the plan. And he hadn’t verbally disapprove
d. Chen’s men were silently waiting for him to speak. He licked his lips and cracked his knuckles. Winning this war, and seizing the ultimate leadership position, would require audacity.
Chen was normally more cautious, only moving when he was sure that he would win. But if he didn’t establish himself as Jinshan’s successor, someone else would. He couldn’t have one of those politicians running his war machine into the ground. After all, he was the highest-ranking military officer in all of China. It was his prerogative whether he should move his forces. He didn’t need permission. And his plan was brilliant.
General Chen looked up at his staff officers. “Draw up orders to direct the Shangdong Carrier Battle Group to steam towards Midway at best speed. Summon Admiral Zhang and have him come see me immediately. He will need to be made aware and design an effective strategy.” Chen would need to make promises to Admiral Zhang. He too had seen Jinshan limping away. Perhaps Zhang could fill Chen’s own shoes.
“Sir, what are your intentions?”
“I intend to take Midway before the Liaoning Battle Group arrives at Hawaii. Tell them that they have five days to reach Midway. The Americans will be surprised by the swiftness of this attack. This will ensure our victory in the Pacific.” And my part in it.
“Yes, General.”
“However, for operational security reasons, we must keep this plan to only a few members of the military circle. I don’t even want these orders in our leadership team meetings. We have all heard the rumors about possible intelligence leaks.”
The colonel fidgeted in his seat. “Sir…do you not think it wise to—”
“Do not argue, Colonel. Execute.”
Lena stood over Jinshan’s bed. His personal doctor had just given him another dose of medication. It would help with the nausea and stomach pain.
Jinshan waved away the doctor and his assistant. They left the room, and Lena was alone with her mentor.
“Did you see their faces?”
“Yes.” Jinshan was referring to the lean and hungry looks on the military officers and Politburo members as he hobbled out of the room unexpectedly. She thought about pretending not to notice, but that wouldn’t serve him well. He needed an honest assessment, however cold it might be.
Her expression was stone. “They will be tempted now.”
“I agree with you.” He gestured to the bedside chair, and she took a seat.
“What would you have me do? Remove and replace any that show signs of disloyalty?”
He scoffed. “That will not solve my true problem. Nothing can do that. I am running out of time, Lena.”
She was surprised to feel her eyes moisten. More uncharacteristic behavior. She noted it and moved on. “Then tell me how to help.”
“Whatever you might think of General Chen”—she was grateful that Jinshan didn’t refer to the man as her father—“he raises a good point about the Jiaolong-class technology. Eventually, the Americans will find a way to defeat it. Just like every weapon ever invented. War creates a renaissance of sorts. The greatest minds in the world suddenly become much more interested in weaponry when their survival depends on it. The subsequent technology race is focused on lethal innovations. Poison gas. Jet propulsion. Nuclear arms. Scientists that were busy with lesser things realize that they have the power to shape history, if they put their minds towards the destruction of rival militaries.”
Lena said, “Do you really believe the Americans have a plan to defeat the Jiaolong technology already?”
“I am certain that they are working on it.”
She realized that he was getting intelligence reports that no one else was.
Jinshan said, “We know there are weaknesses to the system. Will they discover them and come up with a counter before we take the Pacific? Or before we win the war? That I do not know.”
“What do our spies say?”
“They say many things. But we cannot trust our overseas human assets as well as we could a few weeks ago. Before the war began, I was much more confident. Now…”
“What can I do?”
He grimaced again, holding his stomach as a spasm of pain wracked his body.
“Would you like me to get the doctor?”
His face was damp with sweat. “No. The pain is subsiding.”
“I should get a medical attendant.”
He took her elbow. “Lena, there is an operative in the United States. Only two people, including myself, know his identity. This operative is able to get us near-real-time military positions and readiness data in the Pacific. This information will be of the highest quality.”
Lena raised one eyebrow.
“This operative just sent us information that shows how the Americans plan to defend Hawaii. We don’t know if the American plans will work. But if we are able to get updated status on these plans prior to our attack…our conquest of the Pacific shall succeed.”
“What must I do?”
“I need someone that I trust to travel to America and verify that the information is really coming from our agent, and that our agent is not under duress. I trust only you with this task, Lena.”
“I am honored by this confidence, Chairman. I will go to America and fulfill my duty, as you request.”
Jinshan nodded, a look of pride on his face. “The operative in question is a member of the US Navy’s Office of Naval Intelligence. Their organization, like many of the US military and intelligence community, has been decentralized as part of a security procedure. We have a team of military special forces soldiers inside the US. The South Sword Team. After the war began, we had to change our procedure for getting his reports. The South Sword Team is able to recover the information, but they cannot make contact themselves. They will assist you in locating the operative and providing you with security. The minister of state security is the other who knows of this agent. He can tell you the procedures for making contact. He can also provide you with travel arrangements.”
“I understand.”
“We will conduct our attack on Hawaii based on the information this operative provides. If his information indicates that taking Hawaii is not possible, we will take an alternate course of action with our fleet. This is an essential mission, Lena. It may determine the course of the war.”
A knock at the door, and then the minister of state security entered. Jinshan explained his orders while Lena stood in wait. When Jinshan was finished, he dismissed them both, saying, “I must rest now. Good luck, Lena.”
The head of the MSS left the meeting with Jinshan and was escorted out of the bunker to an awaiting helicopter. From there, he was ferried back to Beijing, where he was driven to the MSS headquarters.
As he usually did after high-level meetings, he met with his secretary to document everything. She took handwritten notes as he recounted each and every discussion. The notes were then locked up in his personal safe, where he could refer to them later if needed. The senior intelligence officer was, at this level, a politician. He needed to cover himself if the knives ever came out. In such a case, he could have his secretary turn his notes into memos that documented the past interactions.
What the head of the MSS was not aware of was that his secretary’s eyeglasses contained an audio and video recording device. Every word of the conversation—both written and spoken—was stored within the temples of the glasses. Later that night, she uploaded the data into her communications device and sent a burst transmission towards a receiver on the roof of a nearby apartment building.
That device logged the receipt and sent an alert message via a short-range omnidirectional beacon to the CIA officer who had recently entered the country, posing as a Japanese national.
Tetsuo downloaded the message and fired it off through his own communications device a few hours later. This transmission was received by a very small and stealthy Air Force drone, one of several on a rotating schedule. These drones had been preprogrammed to fly over Beijing at exactly the same time each day. In order to protect itself from
electronic attack, the drone wasn’t able to receive or transmit information in flight except for precisely timed windows, designed for operators to send their data.
So it wasn’t until it landed at Elmendorf Air Force Base ten hours later that Susan Collinsworth and David Manning learned that Lena Chou was headed to meet with a highly placed mole inside the US command center at Raven Rock.
26
USS Ford
Admiral Manning sat on a metal folding chair among hundreds of the ship’s crew in the anchor windlass space. The room was oddly shaped. The forward-most bulkhead was sharply angled because it was so close to the bow. Bright white daylight shone in from portholes spaced throughout the room. Giant white metal beams ran along the ceiling. The flooring was a blue-and-gray perforated mat. It reminded the admiral of a gym floor, except for the bare sections where thick white bollards sprouted up from the deck. On either side of the space were two colossal black anchor chains that ran down the length of the room and disappeared into separate holes in the floor. Each link of the fourteen-hundred-foot-long chain weighed over 130 pounds. It connected to a thirty-thousand-pound anchor.
On a ship at sea, most rooms had multiple uses, and this one was no exception. Sunday morning Catholic service was being held. The faces of the churchgoers were solemn. Most of the crew had just learned that Guam had fallen to the Chinese. The American forces there, including the surface action group, had been defeated, and the remaining forces on Guam were ordered to surrender. Tens of thousands of servicemembers would become prisoners of war. Chinese military aircraft were now flying in reinforcements to the island.
The misplaced exuberance that many of the Ford’s youthful warriors had displayed in previous days had given way to what Admiral Manning had learned from history books: victory was never guaranteed.
American military superiority, however much it had been ingrained in our minds as an unwavering fact and a great source of national pride, was no more assured than the dominance of the empires of old—all of which, at one time or another, had fallen.
