It was then that Nguyen’s eyes caught a glimpse of something else in the water. He leaned over the railing. There it is, what is ...
The emotions of the night flooded over him as recognition came. He felt detached, alone. His country’s ensign, just visible, rippling beneath the surface of the oil-stained water. Hate filled his soul.
* * *
Nguyen’s trance was broken by the sound of footsteps. A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present.
“Commander, I hate to intrude, but we have unfinished work.”
“We do indeed,” Nguyen replied in a flat voice. He cast a final glance at the dark waters and turned toward the headquarters building silently repeating a vow to his old shipmates:
I will be patient and bide my time, but I will have my revenge. Honor will always be yours, my fallen comrades. Though your bodies rest forever beneath the restless waves, I witnessed your souls ascend to the heavens on an ethereal cloud. I will assume your mantel of bravery and continue the struggle so, I too, may honorably join you and our ancestors.
Chapter 7
THE STATE DEPARTMENT
WASHINGTON, D.C.
08:25 MONDAY 10 FEBRUARY
Adrian Clarke timed his arrival to provide a few minutes of preparation before the start of the morning brief. The Assistant Secretary of State for East Asia and Pacific Affairs, he would take the lead in crafting State’s response to the recent Sino-Philippine confrontation in the South China Sea.
A career diplomat in his 26th year, he knew how to turn such unforeseen events to an American advantage. He was also one of the few at State who appreciated the significance of the Spratly Islands.
Despite his familiarity with the area, he too had been caught off-guard by the confrontation between the Chinese and the Filipinos. No indication had crossed his desk of the confrontation and he wondered what, if anything, the Pentagon knew.
He’d been in continuous contact with the Embassy in Manila since the incident, and had communicated the official American position to the Ambassador:
‘The United States did not view the dispute between the Chinese and Philippines as something warranting direct American intervention under the mandates of the American/Philippine Mutual Defense Treaty.’
Clarke snapped closed the latches of his briefcase. If it were only that simple.
With that admission, he rose to acknowledge the arrival of the Secretary of State, the honorable Richard Valardi. “Good morning, Mr. Secretary.”
Valardi nodded a curt reply and strode five measured steps to the head of the table. He took his seat and scanned the highlighted sentences of his briefing book. Without bothering to look up, he began. “What do we have on the Spratlys?”
“It’s quiet at the moment, sir.”
“Well, I suppose that’s a start.”
“I’d like to begin by summarizing the latest messages from the embassy.”
“Proceed.”
“In his weekly address from Malacanang Palace, President Montalvo said his government views the actions taken by elements identified with the People’s Liberation Army as inconsistent with international law and the spirit and intent of the 1992 Manila ASEAN Declaration.”
Valardi popped the lid off his fountain pen, a sure indication he wasn’t happy.
Clark ignored the gesture. “Montalvo went on to say he has received assurances from the civil authorities in Beijing there would be no need for mediation by a third country.
“Or intervention by a third country,” Valardi said. “My read is Zhu is looking for a way out. He’s implicated the PLA. By throwing Xiao under the bus, he’s provided Montalvo an opening to negotiate the release of the fishermen.”
“The Chinese are pushing for more.”
“Yes, sir. We know they’re constructing a series of strategic outposts that will soon dominate our sea lanes of communication. And this brings us to the present developments in the Spratlys. The embassy confirmed yesterday’s reports on ABC. General Medeiros issued a statement saying his forces are conducting sea and air surveillance to deter any further illegal activity.”
Valardi snorted. “I doubt the Chinese navy feels particularly intimidated.”
“No, sir. Manila understands military intervention is not a viable option. Montalvo is looking to counter Beijing by seeking to leverage regional and maritime security issues.”
Valardi looked up from his notes. “Judging from their reaction, the Chinese were surprised by his response. They’ve proposed exploratory talks.”
“Beijing’s buying time. They’re trying to assure the ASEAN countries they have no intention of escalating tensions in the region and are willing to discuss a peaceful resolution of the dispute with the Filipinos.”
“While the Chinese are making these pronouncements, our intelligence reports the PLAN is readying a task force to deploy to the Spratlys,” Valardi said.
“Their offer to open exploratory talks is most considerate,” Valardi continued. “They’re the ones stirring things up. The National Security Advisor and I are of the same opinion. The Chinese incursion into the Spratlys has as much to do with domestic politics as it does foreign policy. Zhu and his supporters have their hands full jostling with General Xiao for political dominance.”
“Yes, sir. We must frame the execution of our policy for the Spratlys within the context of the PRC’s involvement in Taiwanese affairs.”
Valaridi’s voice rose in anger. “Taiwan? What in hell do the Nationalists have to do with this?”
Clarke cursed under his breath. He should have known Valardi would be irritated if presented too many variables. “Taiwan is the unknown in the equation, sir. Any move on the Nationalists’ part to take advantage of the current crisis will not be tolerated by Beijing. Xiao will jump on this crisis to strengthen his power base.”
“Do we have any indication the Nationalists are contemplating any such action?”
“No, sir.”
“What are you saying, then?”
“We should not challenge Beijing by bringing Taiwan into any deliberations pertaining to this latest Sino-Philippine confrontation.”
Valardi leaned forward. “I have no intention of doing so. Are you suggesting we should avoid direct involvement in the present dispute between Beijing and Manila?”
“Yes, sir. My recommendation is to echo Montalvo’s statements and encourage both parties to work toward a collaborative settlement while providing what support we can to Manila.”
“And Zhu?”
“It’s crucial we avoid placing him in an untenable position vis-à-vis the PLA and their change in senior leadership this fall.”
“What else?”
“We need to respond to the overtures from the Philippine and Vietnamese governments to expand our commercial and military ties.”
“The end point?”
“Strengthen our overall position.”
“What assurances can you provide?”
“None. We have to balance our approach. A zero-sum calculation in our relationship with China is a non-starter. Neither of us can be in a position if one of us succeeds, the other must fail.”
“I’m not convinced we should assume a passive posture in this affair. Beijing’s intent is clear. They want to create a Sino-centric Asian block and drive us out. But, that said, we may not have much of a choice, Valardi said. “Beijing has no incentive to stop, unless––”
“I’m not suggesting we assume a passive posture, sir.”
“Fair enough.” Valardi checked his watch and pushed away from the table. “I will present my recommendations to the President.”
Chapter 8
HEADQUARTERS, U.S. PACIFIC FLEET
HAWAII
07:30 MONDAY 10 FEBRUARY
Mike Rohrbaugh wrote the date at the top right-hand corner of his green ledger: 10 February. There was nothing auspicious about the date, but this day, like so many others he’d encountered over the years could hold the unexpected. He comple
ted his page by drawing a vertical row of small boxes on the left-hand margin. He would place a check mark in each of these after he had addressed each task.
Next to his first box he wrote, ‘Power of Attorney.’
With things heating up in the South China Sea, he had to be prepared to deploy at a moment’s notice even if there was zero probability of being given orders for a mission. Even so, he figured it would be prudent to verify his Power of Attorney.
He rested his pen on the ledger and sorted through the open questions concerning the recent events in the Spratlys, then wrote ‘M. Lynne—ABC’ by the second box.
She was the variable in his contingency planning. He’d read her reports pertaining to Pagasa Atoll. The events she described were accurate. How she managed to get on that island remained an unknown. And how much did she know about the U.S. actions to counter the Chinese?”
He didn’t trust reporters and suspected she wasn’t divulging everything she knew. And that could cost lives. He stowed the thought and moved down to the third box: AFP.
He flipped open the routing folder that held the weekend’s message traffic. The first thing that caught his mind’s eye was actually something he didn’t see. There wasn’t anything new from the Philippine military.
Blowing up those channel markers at First Thomas Shoal wouldn’t exactly go down as one of military history’s most audacious acts, but for the Filipinos it was mighty significant. So, what were they up to? He made a note to ask the Ops boss during morning report.
Next up? Box four: PLAN. There was precedent for the PLAN taking offensive action in the region. Sin Cowe Island in ’88 and the Parcel group in ’74 were cases in point that went unchallenged by the international community. The Intel on their warships being readied at their South Sea Fleet base on Hainan Island was solid and meant trouble. All the Chinese needed was a pretext.
So, what where the Chinese going to do? Worst-case scenario; mount a pre-emptive strike on the Philippine garrison on Pagasa Atoll–and entangle U.S. forces in the process.
Best case? The PLAN ships remained in port while the diplomats worked a solution. Rohrbaugh grunted. Given the recent history in the region, the odds of that outcome were low.
Rohrbaugh’s thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Mackenzie. “Morning, Mac. What kind of deal did you get on your wheels?”
“Four Michelin XLT’s. Two-twenty including mounting. The hardest part of the whole evolution was finding the damn phone number for the Exchange’s new tire shop.”
Rohrbaugh smiled at the memory of Mac swearing his way through the military phone directory. “Yup, another mystery of life. We can build a carrier, but not design a functional phone book. Pull up a chair.”
“What’s up?”
“Working the variables. The Filipino military isn’t saying anything, but the Chinese are on the move. Got a whole flotilla including amphibs readying to get underway. Since we don’t know the intent of either the Chinese or the AFP, we’re going to be reacting to events if things turn south.”
“You think something can be worked?”
“If you mean a diplomatic solution, I wouldn’t hold my breath. The message board has a paragraph about the Chinese harassing the Vietnamese north of the Bach Ho oil rigs. Got pretty intense, but nobody was hurt.”
“What do you think the odds are that field is the next flashpoint?”
Rohrbaugh thought a moment, and wrote, “Bach Ho oil rigs’ next to block five. “I’d give them at better than one in four. Of course, those could change depending on the Vietnamese.”
“I don’t like it,” Mac replied before changing the subject. “Anything new on those PLAN bases?”
“Yeah, they’re feeling a bit feisty.”
Mac pulled on his chin. “You think the Chinese are considering neutralizing the AFP base on Pagasa?”
“It’d make sense.”
“Take them out before we could get our forces to the area and leave us holding the pieces.”
“That’s crossed my mind. If I were the Chinese, I’d have that option on the table.”
“It’s anybody’s guess at this point,” Mac said.
“One thing for sure, we can’t permit those anti-ship missile sites to go operational.”
“Could we stage a team to create a little mischief?”
“That’d be my call,” Rohrbaugh answered. “But those decisions are way above my pay grade. A key piece would be linking with a sub for the insertion. That’s best done out of Pearl or Guam to simplify our planning factors.”
“Think we should run the idea up the flagpole?”
“Wouldn’t hurt, but let’s wait until we run a few details to ground.”
Rohrbaugh stood. “I’m off to morning report. Maybe I’ll learn something.”
Chapter 9
THE WHITE HOUSE CABINET ROOM
14:03 TUESDAY 11 FEBRUARY
Stuart’s arrival was heralded by a small armada of aides bursting through the door ahead of him. He paused at the threshold and caught the eye of his National Security Advisor, Justin Brown.
Brown was an intense man who never approached anything in half-measures. A man of extraordinary intellect, he earned his Ph.D. at the Harvard School of International Relations, and joined the State Department before retiring to a prestigious chair at Stanford University. Stuart had lured him from his academic post with an offer to become a member of his cabinet.
“Good afternoon, Mr. President.”
“Ready to launch?”
“Yes, sir.”
Stuart acknowledged the naval officer standing beside Brown. “I trust the Joint Chiefs are keeping the Ship of State afloat?”
“We’ve had fair seas, but there’s turbulent air ahead, Mr. President.”
Stuart sized up the officer’s response. During the first Gulf War, then-Commander Robert Mahan Lawson commanded the Clansmen of VA-46 flying close combat missions in the kill boxes of Iraq. Lawson understood the nature of war and, like other combat veterans, would do everything within his power to avoid conflict.
The two men also shared a common bond. Both were naval aviators. The Chairman taught Stuart how to fly at the Naval Air Station in Pensacola, Florida. Lawson had been an instructor pilot and Stuart, a newly commissioned Ensign.
“Stay the course, Bob.”
Lawson was the latest of a long lineage of Naval officers to serve his country and he enjoyed Stuart’s complete trust. His middle name was taken from a distant relative, Alfred Thayer Mahan whose writings over a century ago foretold of an inevitable confrontation with China in his treatise titled ‘The Problem of Asia.’ Lawson had reviewed the work in preparation for today’s meeting. He’d highlighted a quote from the renowned theorist Sun Tzu: ‘Every battle is won before it is fought.’
Stuart took his seat and pulled out a note pad. “We have a full plate this afternoon gentlemen, so let’s get going. Bryce, what’s your estimate of Beijing’s intentions?”
Bryce Gilmore, the Director of National Intelligence, was the zealous guardian of the nation’s secrets and the grand inquisitor of its enemies, one Stuart could count on not to hold his punches.
“Xiao has recovered from his surprise at the audacity of the Filipinos’ response. The PLAN’s readying a flotilla at their Hainan Island base and will be ready to deploy within several days.”
“What are we looking at?”
“Besides the combatants, surveillance identified combat support personnel and construction equipment staged on the pier. These assets suggest intent to accelerate development of their various outposts in the Spratlys. That said, we have a bigger problem.”
Stuart’s jaw tightened. “Let’s have it.”
“The AFP has located the detained fishermen.”
“And?”
“They’re planning a rescue attempt.”
“When?”
“Within the next twenty-four hours.”
“Bob, what does the Navy have in the region?”
/> “The Lincoln Strike Group. They’ll be transiting the Strait of Malacca Friday.”
“Bryce, does the National Reconnaissance Office have coverage?”
“We’ll need to reposition one of the birds. I’ll work with Sheldon.”
Stuart studied the faces of the DNI and Secretary of Defense, aware of the acrimony that would bubble to the surface between the two. “Sheldon? You on board?”
He’d nominated Sheldon Payne to be part of the administration because of his reputation of designing and implementing the strategies required to execute large corporate mergers. His intent was to provide a new direction at the Pentagon. Payne’s six years of military service, including a tour in Vietnam as an Army infantry platoon commander, helped cement him in the position. His basic operating premise in international affairs and their link to the foreign policy of the United States was that America’s policy should be guided by the pursuit of the country’s national interests and not misdirected by the application of abstract moral principles. A ‘foreign policy realist’ were the kindest words his detractors could find to describe him.
“We’ll coordinate NRO’s and NSA’s input.”
Stuart read Valardi’s fretful look. “What’s your take, Richard?”
“I can’t see what Beijing would gain by deploying their fleet and escalating tensions. There’s a disconnect. Zhu has extended diplomatic feelers to discuss a resolution.”
“Perhaps Xiao got wind of the AFP’s intent and they’re working both angles,” Stuart said.
“Let’s hope Montalvo doesn’t miscalculate,” Brown said. “We can’t afford to get drawn into a confrontation with Beijing.”
“Mr. President?”
“Yes, Richard?”
“I should meet with the Philippine ambassador. They cannot be allowed to use force to free their fishermen before all diplomatic efforts have been exhausted.”
“Set it up.”
Valardi looked over his shoulder to catch the eye of his senior staffer and gave him a nod.
Flash Point Page 5
