“But they haven’t,” Deng said.
“Make your point.”
Deng moved his water glass before answering. “Sir, I suggest we hesitate before retaliating with nuclear weapons.”
“I will not tolerate the use of such weapons against Chinese forces,” the Chairman said.
“It is unspeakable,” Jian said.
“Why use torpedoes?” Deng asked. “There must be a reason for that. Why haven’t they fired missiles at the cross-polar assault?”
“Excuse me, sir,” the Army Minister said. “But it would prove difficult for the Americans to hit our forces on the ice with long-range missiles. Our strategic pulse-lasers protect the higher altitudes over the pack ice. With space-mirrors, we could knock down such missiles before they reached our assembly areas.”
“I see,” Deng said. “Interesting.”
“The torpedo attack shows the Americans’ desperation,” Admiral Qingshan said. “I suggest it means they have little in way of defense on the North Slope. Mr. Chairman, I suggest an immediate assault on the military bases there.”
“I appreciate your concern,” the octogenarian Army Minister said. “Yet I wonder if you desire the immediate assault in order to draw attention away from your naval brigades.”
“The ice itself is an enemy,” Qingshan said. “This torpedo attack proves that. I cannot understand why you would want your polar formations on it any longer than necessary.”
“Do not worry about them,” the Chairman said, as he glanced at Jian. “The Chinese Army will soon launch its attack on the North Slope.”
“We will light a fire under General Nung,” Jian said.
“The Americans have already lighted that fire under him,” Qingshan said dryly.
“You seem to feel the Army is tardy in its assault,” the marshal told Qingshan. “First, you must understand that crossing the pack-ice has proven harder than my planners had anticipated. It was and is a nightmare journey, with many unforeseen incidents and accidents. A few formations are almost ready for the final lunge as they gather the needed supplies. But there is a problem.”
“Yes?” Qingshan asked.
“The most dangerous zone is the last four hundred kilometers,” the marshal said. “If ground units become stalled in that area, they become easy targets for the Americans. Therefore, operational theory calls for a swift and continuous advance across the last zone. In order to achieve that, forward supply depots are needed.”
“I find it interesting that the Americans chose to destroy a depot with their nuclear torpedo instead of directly destroying a military assembly area,” Qingshan said.
“They likely don’t know the whereabouts of such an assembly area,” the marshal said.
“These military details are secondary,” the Chairman said, interrupting. “The point is: the Americans have used nuclear weapons against us. I refuse to let that go unpunished.”
“Are you suggesting we use nuclear weapons?” Deng asked.
“Yes,” the Chairman said.
Deng appeared uneasy. “May I ask where, sir?”
“Perhaps Fairbanks would do,” the Chairman said.
“They have strategic lasers protecting Fairbanks,” Qingshan said.
“We must find a place to retaliate,” the Chairman said. “I demand it.”
“Maybe we already have such a place,” Deng said, “a non-place.”
“I do not care to hear any more of your clever suggestions tonight, Deng,” the Chairman said. “I want revenge. I want the Americans to feel my anger. It is intolerable that they think China will lie supine while they launch nuclear weapons upon us.”
Deng nodded. “You carry the soul of China in your heart, sir. You are outraged, and you feel this assault upon our honor because of your special connection with the people.”
“You guide us, sir,” Jian said, trying to keep his hand in the conversation.
“Yes,” Deng said. “You guide us. Yet I wonder if in this instance the Americans haven’t handed you a gift.”
“A gift by incinerating Chinese soldiers?” the Chairman asked dangerously.
“Never that,” Deng said.
Jian yearned to attack Deng verbally, but he feared the man’s cunning. He also feared Deng’s ideas.
“Very well,” the Chairman said. “Speak your mind. Let us hear what your cleverness can concoct from American savagery.”
“That’s my point, sir,” Deng said. “Much of the world views us as aggressors.”
“We are the aggressors,” the Chairman said. “Despite our propaganda campaign, it is never wise to lie to oneself.”
“I agree,” Deng said. “Many view us as aggressors. Now the Americans have used nuclear weapons. That will lose them support. Every torpedo they fire will create a worldwide groundswell against them. It will create an outcry against nuclear weapons. We will be able to use that later.”
“People respect strength,” the Chairman said. “If the Americans destroy the polar forces, others will fear them more. How could that possibly help us?”
“From what I’ve heard here,” Deng said, “the Americans might destroy a few more supply depots, but they will be unable to reach our military forces. We wait outside the four-hundred kilometer danger-zone. Once we’re ready, we will invade and capture the North Slope.”
“What if these attacks embolden the Americans to use nuclear weapons against our fleet in the Gulf of Alaska?” the Chairman asked.
“I think there is a message in their use of a torpedo under the ice,” Deng said.
“If they use such weapons against our fleet,” Jian said, “we should use nuclear weapons in the Kenai Peninsula.”
Every member of the Ruling Committee finally glanced at him.
“I don’t agree,” Admiral Qingshan said. “We need the Kenai Peninsula intact. We would have to use nuclear weapons elsewhere.”
“I have made a resolution in my heart,” the Chairman said. “If they destroy our cross-polar formations with nuclear weapons, we shall destroy their oilfields in retaliation, crippling their economy. And I have another more devastating way to use our nuclear weapons, one that none of their strategic lasers can stop.”
“What is that, sir?” Jian asked.
The Chairman stared at him. “It is an idea I will hold in reserve at the moment. You, however, will carry on with your assigned task.” The Chairman gave him a meaningful nod.
“Yes, sir,” Jian said.
The Chairman pressed a button on his wheelchair, and Jian’s screen went blank. If left Jian staring at his cooling tea, wondering if he should signal Bojing’s plane, telling the lieutenant-general to return to Ambarchik. Should he find General Nung himself? The Chairman had given him the nod.
Jian was still wondering twenty minutes later.
-14-
Drive on Anchorage
PRCN SUNG
The Chinese supercarrier and its escorts were well out to sea. It was overcast and gray rolling waves spread in all directions.
Deep inside the mighty vessel, Admiral Ling stood before the OBS, the operational battle screen, studying the situation on the Kenai Peninsula. With his single hand, he keyed up information as the need occurred to him. As Ling ingested the data, several certainties began to become clear.
The hatch opened and Commodore Yen entered the chamber. Before approaching the admiral, Yen murmured a greeting to a keen-eyed operator.
Ling nodded as the Commodore sidled near. Then the admiral cast a suspicious glance at the operator Yen had singled out. Why would the notoriously snobbish Commodore even notice a battle-intelligence operator? Oh. Then it became clear.
“The man is an East Lightning spy?” Ling asked in a whisper.
Commodore Yen turned away from the operator, one among several in the OBS room. He moved so now his mouth was hidden from the man’s view. The tall flag officer adjusted his VR monocle as he regarded the admiral. “I thought you knew, sir,” Yen said quietly.
“
No. I had no idea.”
Yen shrugged dismissively. “They are everywhere. The chief political officer aboard ship spends much of his time recruiting naval personnel to spy on their superiors.”
“I thought the men in here were all vetted.”
Yen said nothing.
Scowling, Admiral Ling returned his attention to the OBS. “We have a limited time to crack the glass vase that is Anchorage. So far, the Americans have held fast.”
“Sir,” said Yen, surprised, “even now our naval brigades are driving the Americans back. Every time the enemy dares to make a stand, our forces smash through. If I may be so bold, sir, how can you say the Americans are holding?”
“You must see through the first level of a situation before you make such pronouncements,” chided Ling.
The Commodore seemed startled. After a moment’s thought, however, the serene look returned. “You conquered Taiwan, so I would not presume to teach you the art of war, sir.”
“No, no,” said Ling. “Do not be so shy. I am old. I am maimed. What could I possibly know?”
“I would not presume to say, sir. I suspect, however, that you have a new plan to implement.”
Admiral Ling nodded as his good eye, the dark one, became like a pool of swirling ink. There were deep eddies in that eye, a depth of character and subtlety.
“We have nine naval brigades,” Ling said, “each twice the size of any American brigade. What is more, we possess superior equipment and training, superior morale and soldiers. We have stormed onto the peninsula and now drive through it along two routes, Highways One and Nine. Highway One began at Homer. Route Nine started at Seward.”
“Seward,” said Yen, “the Vice-Admiral’s base.”
“For now, personalities don’t matter. The critical factor is our weight of numbers, nine full brigades against several American brigades. These Militiamen bolster them, but they shouldn’t make the difference.” Ling cleared his throat. “You were mistaken a moment ago when you said we ‘smash through’ those Americans daring to make a stand. To smash through implies that we have swept away the defenders so they are now chaff.” Ling shook his head. “That is far from the case. We drive against them as they defend the twin routes. Each kilometer we force them back, is a kilometer closer for them to their base of supplies. That means the closer they approach Anchorage, the easier it will be for the Americans to reinforce their sectors. What makes it worse for us is that each highway resembles a thin artery. Along the artery must pump food, fuel and ammo to our soldiers. Each of these routes snake through a terrible wildness of ever bigger and steeper mountains and denser forests.”
“You speak the truth, sir. And yet, by driving them back we are surely winning.”
“In a first phase analysis, yes, you would be absolutely correct. To win we must reach Anchorage. Hence, as we near Anchorage, we are winning. Yet until a sector along one of the arteries collapses, we are unable to thrust at Anchorage with speed in order to take it in a single swoop. Because of the two winding routes, we have only been able to hack our way to the city like an explorer hacking a path through a jungle.”
“The Americans have much fewer soldiers than we do, sir. We will win a war of attrition, a war of hacking, as you say.”
“For now that is so, yes,” said Ling. “Yet the factors are changing. The Americans are constantly air-ferrying soldiers from the mainland, from the bottom states to the fronts. Intelligence has also informed me that a large military convoy is boring through the frozen highways of the Yukon.”
“We’ve interrupted most direct air-ferrying into Anchorage,” said Yen. “We’ve slowed them.”
“First, as you’ve just said, we’ve slowed them. Yet the Americans still dare at times to rush transports into Anchorage airport. Mostly, they fly to outer bases and put the reinforcements onto trains to Anchorage and thereby to the Kenai Peninsula. I would like to throttle all air transport into the city and force the Americans to land their reinforcements and supplies all the way up at Fairbanks.”
“That would help immensely.”
Ling nodded. “It would change the mathematical equation in our favor, I agree.”
“Which is what?” asked Yen.
“There are several factors at work, you understand.”
“…I’m not sure I do, sir, at least not how you see it.”
Ling gave the Commodore a crooked grin, the only kind he could give since half his face was paralyzed. “Because of the thin arteries—the Number One and Nine Highways—massive traffic jams often bottleneck our supplies. That also makes it difficult to bring up fresh brigades or battalions to the point of battle. At the point of battle, we hack the Americans in attritional fights. Unfortunately, that costs us in Chinese blood and munitions. Yes, we have superior soldiers and tech. But the Americans fight for their homes and are on defense, which is the stronger form of warfare as they can fire from behind boulders and trees, and pop up from foxholes.”
“I still don’t understand your reason for pessimism, sir. We keep pushing them back.”
“Yes! As they trade space for time. Given enough time, they can reinforce their lost soldiers—as long as they maintain the open air corridor.”
“By the look on your face, sir, I believe you have the answer to our dilemma.”
“I have several answers,” said Ling. “They are each risky.”
“How can they entail risk as long as we have better soldiers and hardware?”
Admiral Ling reached up and pointed at a red symbol on the OBS. It was much deeper inland than any of their penetrations. It was, in fact, hundreds of kilometers inland.
“You’re pointing to their nearest ABM laser station?” asked Yen.
“Strategic ABM laser station,” said Ling. “The Americans haven’t used it yet to attack our aircraft, primarily because we’ve given them little opportunity to do so.”
Yen studied him. “Are you suggesting sending our bombers into the protected airspace? It would cost us heavily, I afraid. If we lost too many planes, it might jeopardize the safety of our carriers. Can you really risk that, sir?”
“We must risk it if we hope to cordon off Anchorage from air-supply. Once that is accomplished, we can smash anything crawling along the ground trying to reach the city. That will dry up their reinforcements, their ability to strengthen their defensive positions along Highway One and Nine. As I said before, it is a mathematical formula. If they can trade these controlled increments of space for time long enough, then their main reinforcements from British Columbia will reach Anchorage before we do. If they can, they will seal us off in the peninsula. My accelerated push will also demand better traffic control on the twin routes. We must switch the brigades facing the Americans, allowing each combat group the chance to hammer the retreating Americans in turn. That will give our blooded brigades time to rest and regroup. By all means, we must find more ways to bring our superior numbers to bear against the dwindling Americans.”
“We will, sir, especially once we reach Anchorage and then break out.”
“This ABM laser station,” said Ling, pointing at it on the OBS. “We must first destroy it.”
“With long-range missiles?” asked Yen.
“No, that’s out of the question. Even cruise missiles would fail as the site burns them out of the air with their pulse-lasers. For this attack, we must use our Ghost-bombers, our newest stealth craft.”
“Ah, yes, I see why you said risky earlier. Forgive me for my presumption, but I’m guessing you mean to use all of them.”
“Yes, of course all. It is a deep raid. If the Americans are awake and have been holding fighter reserves for just this eventuality….”
Commodore Yen nodded sagely.
“I know the political risks,” Ling said. “The rewards beckon me, however. If we destroy the strategic ABM station, it will open up all South Central Alaska’s hinterlands to our fighters.”
“I don’t disagree, sir.”
“But?” asked L
ing.
“It still leaves the Americans an air strongpoint in Anchorage. The base facilities there are powerful.”
“Absolutely true. That is why I will use a second surprise.”
“What is that, sir?”
Admiral Ling told the Commodore his plan.
As he heard the words, the Commodore’s monocle fell from his eye. The Commodore caught the expensive VR monocle before it could break on the floor, and he nodded. “You are bold, sir. Your plan truly is risky, but it is also brilliant.”
ARCTIC OCEAN
Because of badly iced wings, Lieutenant-General Bojing’s transport plane went down. He had traveled a long ways from Ambarchik Base in East Siberia. Now his transport hit the pack ice. He snapped forward, hitting his forehead against the padded seat in front of him. He heard the explosive sound of crackling ice and the tortured sound of twisted metal.
I must escape from the plane before it sinks into the freezing water.
Men shouted all around him. Bojing was dazed and kept trying to remove his restraints. Then soldiers cut his restraints and hauled him upright. The men were cruelly strong, hurting him.
“Hurry, sir!” a man shouted in his face.
Bojing stumbled down the crazily tilted aisle. Ice groaned outside and the entire plane shifted.
Men shouted, and a dazed and head-bleeding Bojing found himself shoved through a door. He crashed onto ice. His legs crumpled under him. One of his ankles flared with red-hot pain. Someone hauled him upright. He had to hop on one foot.
“Move!” roared a sergeant.
Bojing looked up as hail beat at his face. They’d tried to fly through this blizzard. Yes, yes, he was on his way to speak with General Nung. The deadly Ruling Committee Minister—Jian Shihong—had taken over Ambarchik Base. Bojing tried to clear his foggy thoughts. Men pitched supplies out of the plane.
“This way, sir!” a man shouted in his ear, making Bojing yelp. He dragged Bojing. As the soldier did, the world began to tremble and thunder roared.
It’s the ice. It’s cracking under my feet. I’m going to die.
Invasion: Alaska Page 36
