STROH. I WON'T TALK TO THE PRESIDENT ABOUT MAKING AN EXCEPTION TO USE U.S. AIRPOWER TO RESCUE YOUR TEAM INSIDE CHINA. HE MADE THE POINT CLEAR. NO CONFRONTATION WITH CHINA, AND NO USE OF U.S. ARMS AGAINST CHINA'S LAND MASS OR HER PEOPLE FOR ANY REASON WHATSOEVER. THE ANSWER IS NO. YOU MENTIONED THE TAIWANESE AIR FORCE. SUGGEST YOU PURSUE THAT ROUTE. WE KNOW THAT TIME IS ESSENTIAL. TRY TAIPEI WITH YOUR PROPOSAL. AS YOU SAID, IT'S THEIR NECKS WE'RE SAVING. OUT.
Don Stroh read the message again. He'd been staring at it for ten minutes. What the hell. He'd have to call on every favor he ever built up in Taiwan when he was stationed there for three years.
First he used the cellular ability of the electronics on board the carrier and called the top Agency man in Taipei. Tom Morton was not pleased to be roused out of bed before noon. Tom knew about the invasion plans for Taiwan, and had talked with the President of Taiwan, Lee Teng-hui. Both of them were up to date on the invasion plans and the U.S. attempt to thwart them.
"Tom, it's done. The invasion is stopped cold. Now we need some help to get our team out of China."
"How in hell can I help do that?"
"Talk to Lee. We need some Taiwan air support and a chopper pickup for our thirteen SEALS. They've been in freights in there for the last ten hours."
"Whoa. You want Lee to attack Mother China with his jets to save the skin of thirteen men? He'd laugh at you. Thirteen men are nothing. He has millions of men."
"That's your job, Tom. Convince him that these thirteen men have saved his island more than ten million dead and a sure takeover by China. Show him that he would have been dead by now of poison gas if these SEALS hadn't attacked the missile sites, the bombers, the destroyers, even the atomic center up north. He damn well owes these men."
"Oh, damn. I hate it when you get logical and emotional. I'll call and try to get to see him this morning. No promise."
"Too late to do a rescue today. We'll try to get them out to the coast tonight. We'd need his jets for close ground support and maybe some choppers to go in and get the men after dark. We don't know where they'll be by that time. They might even make it to the strait where our people can pick them up. You've got to try."
"I'll try, I'll try."
"So wake up and make some phone calls. It could take a day to set up everything. We only have about fourteen hours."
Don Stroh hung up the phone. He was sweating. He hated it when he did that. He used to sweat every time he did something wrong or made a mistake. Now he sweated when he got excited or emotional about some issue or project. He hated that too.
He sent another message, this one to Langley about his move to get to the Taiwanese Air Force to help. He hoped it worked.
He sent a short-burst message to Murdock telling him what he was working on. No way to know if Murdock got the message or not. He might have left the SATCOM on receive only, maybe not. Murdock had probably turned off the radio. Damn.
"Chief, call me immediately if you get any transmissions from Murdock or from Tom Morton," Stroh told the enlisted man in charge of the radio room.
Stroh waited. It was nearly two hours before Morton called back. Both ends of the conversation were encrypted, then turned back into regular speech.
"You trying to get me killed, Stroh? I brought up the idea of using a pair of jet fighters and a chopper to go in and rescue the guys who saved their whole damn country, and President Lee blew his stack. He said that would be risking war with China. I pointed out that China had already declared war on Taiwan, had actively tried to murder ten million of his people. He threw me out of the place. Had his guards lift me up and carry me out to the fucking street."
"Lee is a show-off. Go right back in there and remind him of the plans he's seen for the invasion of Taiwan. Remind him that sixteen U.S. Navy SEALS have saved his fucking ass. Then tell him he owes us this much. Three aircraft against ten million of his people? Sounds like a damn good business deal to me. Get back in there and make him understand."
Morton swore for two minutes, then gave up. "Okay, okay. I'll give it another try. I can't promise anything. I did give him golf lessons for two months. Every fucking morning. Maybe I can play on that somehow. You never know what's going to work with these goddamned presidents."
Don Stroh told him good-bye and hung up the hand set. Stroh paced the commo room. He stared at the radios and all the communications gear. None of it did him any good unless it talked to him. He had been thinking about asking the U.S. President to call Lee Teng-hui. Chat with him President-to-President.
Stroh pounded his fist into his palm. Nothing to lose.
Give it a try.
He sent an encrypted message through directly to the President requesting an urgent talk about the Taiwan situation. He had no way of knowing if the President would respond or not. He checked the time. It was 930 A.M. in Taiwan. D.C. was thirteen hours behind them. That would make it 830 P.m. yesterday in the Capital. At least it wasn't the middle of the night.
Now all he had to do was sit around and hope that the President thought this incident important enough to call him back about it.
30
Sunday, May 17
0935 hours
On board the USS Intrepid
Taiwan Strait
Don Stroh sat in the communications room of the giant carrier and held his head in his hands. He had sent the message directly to the President at 0930. It was logged. How long should he wait hoping there might be an answer? An hour? Two hours? Six hours? He heard one of the machines chattering. Something was always chirping away in the commo room. Someone tapped his shoulder. He looked up. "Mr. Stroh. A message for you, from the White House." Stroh leaped up and knocked over the chair he sat in. "No shit?"
"Honest, Sir. Right over here."
It was coming off the encrypting machine. Stroh read the print out.
PRESIDENT VITALLY CONCERNED ABOUT THE THIRTEEN SEALS IN CHINA. HE'S TALKING WITH HIS ADVISORS. MAKE YOURSELF AVAILABLE AT 1000 HOURS YOUR TIME FOR DIRECT TALK WITH THE PRESIDENT. STANDING BY.
Stroh looked at the sailor, who had a big grin. "That's it?"
"No, sir. The President himself will talk to you on a handset directly at ten hundred. That's about twenty-two minutes from now, sir."
"Yes, yes. Thanks." Stroh looked at a pad and ballpoint pen on the desk. He righted the chair and sat and put down in order what had happened, where the SEALS were, and what could be done if the Taiwanese Air Force would do it, if the Taiwan President ordered them to. He thought he was ready. He had met the U.S. President twice, but he was sure the man wouldn't remember him. Damn, what else should he be doing? He didn't know. He felt drained, used up, as limp as yesterday's washcloth.
He'd close his eyes for just a minute. He leaned back in the chair and tried to relax. Just for a minute he'd rest his eyes and then he'd go over his list for the President.
Someone touched his shoulder again.
"Mr. Stroh. Mr. Stroh. The President is on the line for YOU."
Stroh came out of the chair, barely avoiding a tip-over, and went to the console the sailor directed him to.
He picked up the handset. "Yes, Mr. President, this is Don Stroh."
"Mr. Stroh. Good to talk with you again. How did your wife do in that art exhibit she was having? Sorry I didn't get there. Maybe next time. Now about those SEALS."
"We have thirteen inside China, sir. Right now they are about four to five miles from the coast east and south of Amoy. They have singlehandedly prevented the invasion of Taiwan by the Chinese. I understand you have prohibited any U.S. air-power to go to these men's aid."
"Yes, that would provoke an incident that could be far reaching. We just can't risk that if there's any other way."
"There may be, Mr. President. What about the Taiwanese Air Force? We helped build it, supplied them for years. Our men have just prevented up to ten million deaths on the island. I'd say they owe us. Could you call the President of Taiwan and ask him to help us? We'd need two jets for nighttime close gr
ound support and maybe a chopper for an extraction of the thirteen men."
There was a moment of silence. Don Stroh's eyes went wide as he waited. "Yes, that seems like a fair request. What time is it there?"
"Just after ten A.M. sir."
"I've talked with Lee Teng-hui before. Yes, I'll get right on it. I'll call you back one way or the other. Yes, Stroh, good idea. They owe us, and we owe those SEALS to get them out of there. They've done a tremendous deed for Taiwan. I'm going to make sure that Lee appreciates that. You stand by, Stroh. I'll be back in touch with you."
"Will do, Mr. President. Thank you."
They signed off, and Stroh leaned back in the chair and mopped sweat off his forehead. The sailor came up.
"Mr. Stroh. We have a printout of that conversation if you need one for your files."
"Yes, thank you. He's going to call the Taiwan President. Isn't that great?"
Stroh thought of something else then. The President had remembered him. He'd asked about Barbara's art exhibit. He did remember. What a man. That does it, Stroh decided. If the man ran for President again, he had the Stroh family vote.
Saturday, May 16
2118 hours
Oval Office, White House
Washington, D.C.
William Hawthorne, President of the United States, picked up the red phone in his office, his face a little on the grim side. "Mr. President, Hawthorne here. It's good to talk to you again."
"President Hawthorne, I am pleased to speak with you and to thank you and your countrymen for their invaluable aid to Taiwan." President Lee was proud of his command of English and never used a translator with the Americans.
"Good, good, Mr. President. Since we talked two days ago, the threat to Taiwan has been beaten back and, we think, eliminated. We have one small problem."
"What's that, Mr. President?"
"The small band of fighters that has prevented this attack and invasion of Taiwan is still in Mainland China and in extreme danger. We need the help of some of your military aircraft to aid them."
"Us attack China? That, sir, is not possible. We are a small beetle here beside a giant who can squash us any time it chooses. We can do nothing to irritate the beast.
"Mr. President. These thirteen men have saved the island of Taiwan. They have saved the lives of up to ten million of your people. They have prevented massive destruction of your armed forces and the deaths of most of your military personnel. We think that you owe these men a great deal."
"That may be true, but to send our warplanes into China… it could provoke all kinds of retaliation."
"If it were done at night, China wouldn't know what aircraft they were. They would have no way of determining who had entered their airspace. You have been violated. It is perfectly natural for you to respond in kind."
"Yes, I understand your thinking, Mr. President. Is there a time factor?"
"Our men are safe for the daylight hours. It's morning there, as I understand it. By nightfall we would hope that there could be some rescue attempt or at least some jets for close ground support to help these SEALS stay alive."
"Mr. President, I will talk with my cabinet and my military leaders. I will convey your viewpoint and your suggestion. I must have agreement here before I can do anything. I will let you know what my people decide within eight hours."
"Thank you, Mr. President. We have done all we could to help continue the existence of Taiwan. We hope that now you can repay that assistance with some aid of your own so we can rescue these thirteen heroes now trapped in Mainland China."
"Yes, Mr. President. I understand. Thank you and goodbye."
The U.S. President put down the handset and frowned. He had no idea which way President Lee Teng-hui would go. He was a politician, a skilled one, and he would act in accord with what was best for his career and then best for Taiwan. It was a toss-up. The President rubbed his hand over his face.
One of his aides came in reminding him about a reception he was due to attend. He sighed and stood. He wondered if those thirteen SEALS in China would be dying while he smiled and made polite conversation at some damned reception. He wished that he knew one way or the other.
31
Sunday, May 17
0824 hours
Old mine tunnel
Near Amoy, China
Murdock had sat at the mouth of the mine tunnel and watched day come to China. It was the first time he'd seen it — and, he hoped, the last. He stared out through the concealment of the brush in front of the opening. He could see what he figured was five miles to the east. There was no sign of the Taiwan Strait. How far were they from the water?
He wished he could push aside the ground mist and some haze as the day brightened. Some of it would burn off or blow away. Maybe then he could see the strait shimmering to the east.
Now he concentrated on the mission at hand. He had his men safe for the time being. He had spotted no military traffic below. Jaybird up in the lookout had seen nothing to alarm them. Only one truck had been spotted, and it had appeared to be a farm vehicle of some kind. It had driven into the valley about three miles out and stopped at a pair of low buildings.
Murdock wished he had a 20-power scope. Usually a SEAL had little use for one, but right now in this ground war phase of the mission, a long-range scope would be handy. As he watched, he saw a three-truck convoy roll from the left side of his view into the middle of the valley and stop. He could see figures leaving the trucks. They seemed to be talking about something. Then they all got back in the rigs and drove away past the rest of the valley and out of sight to the north.
The SEALS' luck was holding so far. All they needed was another ten hours of good fortune and they could head for the beach.
Two hours later, Murdock called Jaybird.
"Nothing doing, Skipper. All quiet out in front."
"Good. I'm sending Red up to replace you. Time for some shut-eye for you. He'll be up directly. Nothing new on the big radio so we don't know about any help coming."
Red woke up when Murdock shook his shoulder. He came awake at once ready for action. No warmup required.
"Yeah?"
"Take the lookout from Jaybird. I'll show you where it is. Keep your Motorola on and your eyes open. If we get any visitors who look like they will overrun this spot, get your ass back down here without being seen."
Red nodded and headed up the hill to where Murdock pointed.
Jaybird came back, waved at Murdock, and sacked out. Murdock called Dewitt over.
"You had any sleep?"
"Some."
"Good. My turn. If I'm out more than three hours, wake me. If any troops head this way, give me a yell. I'm due for a nap." Dewitt said he'd handle it, and went to the front to look out at the valley.
It was almost 1400 when Dewitt awoke Murdock.
"We got some company. Not sure how far they'll come this direction. Near as I can tell, there's about a hundred of them. A Chinese infantry company maybe."
Murdock came to his feet at once and went to the front of the tunnel.
At least a hundred, he decided as he watched the line of green-clad figures working slowly up the valley. They were spread thin over the mile-wide opening, but it was narrowing as they came forward. He saw four big trucks a mile behind the figures. They must be rushing men to every possible spot where the enemy could be and letting them sweep forward. Bad news.
The troops looked to be doing a good search job, poking into piles of brush and growth, checking out trees and the one building in the area below. They were still two miles away, but there was no indication they might stop their search.
"What do you think, Skipper?" Dewitt asked.
"Same as you. We wait and see how far they come. If they get here we hope to hell they don't find the opening to this tunnel. If they do we're fish in a barrel."
"But the odds are better staying in here than trying to run for it," Dewitt said.
"Agreed. We've used our skill and talents up
to this point. Now we have to sit back and see how our luck is running. We win or lose on one throw of the fucking Chinese dice."
Murdock touched his throat mike. "Red, you still there?"
"That's a Roger."
"Better get your butt down here. Try not to leave any tracks, especially around the entrance. Want to have all of our chicks in one basket here."
"I'm moving. Over a hundred of them soldiers out there. Hope we don't need to tangle with them."
Both the officers watched the Chinese move ahead slowly. They were in a long line of skirmishers. The SEALS could see now that the men had their rifles slung over their shoulders with the muzzles down. They were out on a hike.
They came closer.
Twenty minutes later they were within a half mile of the tunnel. The opening had narrowed as they came up the valley. Murdock counted again and saw no more than fifty troops. Half of them must have split off and taken the valley next to this one. Good. Fifty was a hell of a lot better than a hundred.
Red joined Murdock and Dewitt inside the tunnel.
"Red, wake everyone up and get them ready to travel," Murdock said. "All gear stowed, everything set for a firefight. Check all weapons and have them locked and loaded."
"We busting out of here, L-T?"
"If we have to. Odds aren't so bad now, maybe four to one. I want the MP-5 guys first, then the CARS, and the heavy stuff behind." Jaybird came up rubbing his eyes. "I sleep that long?"
"No, you're still dreaming. Take a look out front." Jaybird did, then leaned back in. "Less than a quarter of a mile. They gonna make us in here?"
"Hope not. If they do, we crash out of here with the MP-5s chattering and head to the side, across the slant of the hill. See those trees over there maybe eighty yards? We'll make a stand there until we can bug out."
"Bug out?" Dewitt said. "I haven't heard that term for twenty years."
"It still works." Murdock went back to the front of the tunnel and stared through the branches of their handmade blind. The Chinese were closer now. They didn't seem dedicated to their search. He could hear some bantering and laughter. Now and then a sharp command came from someone, but soon the talking started again.
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