China Attacks

by Chuck DeVore

  The Air Force general wrapped up by explaining where the bathrooms were and how to find a phone. He also apologized that pagers didn’t work in this area due to extra electronic shielding put in place for security concerns. Donna was used to that. She only carried a pager outside of CIA headquarters. She glanced around the room and noticed that everyone was busy delving into their briefing books. She opened hers.

  TOP SECRET, NOFORN

  Scenario 1199 PRC/ROC

  PRC Premier Briefing Packet

  GOALS: You are the Chairman’s right hand. You must control the government and bring all resources to bear as necessary to support the Chairman’s policy of reunifying Taiwan with China through whatever means possible. You serve as the Chairman’s crucial eyes and ears in determining support for his policies among the various government ministries and among the people.

  ASSETS: All non-military, non-Communist Party advisors in this simulation work for you and will provide you with whatever information or advice you require.

  The remainder of the packet provided additional background information and rules for the scenario. She even noticed a paragraph on the Premier’s political modus operandi from a briefing she wrote a few months ago. Good source material, she grinned to herself.

  Donna heard someone clear his throat. It was Cliff Dowling. “All right team, let’s get this exercise moving. First, I want to reconfigure the seating arrangements. As President of China, I think I’ve the power to do that.” Someone in the room chuckled and Dowling cracked a smile, “I’m going to sit at the end of the table, opposite the camera. Ms. Klein, I’d like you to sit on my right. I want Colonel Lake to my left. Dr. Wendell and Mr. Ye, please sit to Ms. Klein’s right. The rest of you, if you’re a military advisor or minor military role-player, please sit on Colonel Lake’s side of the table. Everyone else, take any available seat. Take a ten minute break and then sit in your proper places.” The room erupted with the noise of chairs scraping on linoleum tile floor and shuffling papers.

  Dowling approached Donna with his outstretched hand. He was a bit on the tall side, about six foot to Donna’s five foot four. He had thin brown hair, fairly closely cropped (probably blends in better in the Pentagon, Donna mused). His eyes were brown, the edges weathered, as if he’d been on one too many tough overseas assignments. “Thanks for coming, Donna, you come highly recommended. What do you think so far?”

  “Well, sir, I’m looking forward to this, but frankly I’m a little concerned.”

  Dowling, now a little on guard, said, “Oh?”

  “Yes sir. I mean, I’ve only been at the CIA four years and you have me playing the premier of China in a simulation? I hope it’s not the only game in town—so to speak.”

  “I see. Well, as I’m sure you can appreciate, these simulations take quite a bit of time and money to prepare and run, not to mention the personnel diverted from their day-to-day tasks,” Dowling was just the slightest bit stiff. Donna was momentarily regretful of her comment—just momentarily though—when she ran the show, things would be different. “In any event, you should take it as a career enhancing opportunity that you were chosen for this exercise. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Dowling turned to go down the hall before his break time expired.

  Donna looked for Colonel Lake. She found him talking with a captain from the Navy and another colonel. “. . . so this time I want to kick some serious ass, let’s get imaginative, bend the rules till they break. I want to grab those bastards in the blue and green cells by the balls and. . .” the naval officer cleared his throat and looked over Colonel Lake’s shoulder at Donna with a slight grin and a hint of embarrassment. Colonel Lake tried to recover, “. . . and show them how the game is played.”

  Donna smiled and addressed the Colonel, “You really shouldn’t mix your metaphors in front of the Premier. It could get you demoted to the position of outpost commander in the Gobi Desert.”

  “Oh, hello. Ms. Klein, is it?” Colonel Lake thought his oldest daughter wasn’t much younger than this CIA analyst. Still, she’s got something to contribute or she wouldn’t be here, he thought. He decided to try to make an ally of her. “I was just discussing with my comrades here how we are going to bring the capitalist pigs to their knees.” Lake emphasized his southern accent on the word “comrade” so that it stood out like a relic from the Cold War. Clearly, this was an officer who took no prisoners.

  “So, you’ve done this before?” Donna asked, feeling somewhat more secure in knowing there were some veteran simulation players around. At least the Pentagon appeared to be trying to stay one step ahead of the latest crisis—which was more than could be said for the CIA lately.

  “Yes, twice now, but only with Pentagon personnel. Got my. . . fanny kicked twice by the U.S. Navy both times just as my invasion of Taiwan got underway. This will be my first interagency war game. It should be interesting to get another perspective in here instead of just us professional warriors fighting it out.”

  Donna was beginning to like this officer. He enjoyed his work too. She winked, “You’ll have to tell me about your failed efforts at bringing that renegade capitalist province back into line.”

  Colonel Lake grinned, “Why, Ms. Klein, I’d be happy to tell you about my glorious failures upon the field of battle.”

  Cliff Dowling strode back into the simulation room and buttonholed Mr. Ye. The others began searching for their seats.

  Dowling set his face and sized up his audience, “Well, let’s get going,” he paused, eyes resting on Dr. Wendell for a moment, “I know some of you don’t believe the People’s Republic of China would ever try to conquer the Republic of China on Taiwan. If that’s your opinion, that’s fine. Keep it to yourself during this simulation. Our goal is to try our level best to achieve our aim, knowing what we know about the capabilities and weaknesses of the PRC. Ms. Klein, I want you to explore the possibilities of a federal reunification with Taiwan where they would maintain their local government and armed forces, but speak with one voice with the PRC on foreign affairs. Dr. Wendell, I want you to recommend ways to prevent U.S. or Japanese interference should we decide to use the military option. I also want you to explore how we might more reliably integrate North Korea’s capabilities into our plans. Mr. Ye, I want you to examine how our economy might be impacted by an economic embargo led by America. Also develop some timelines—tell me how long could we hold out, what would be our alternate sources of supply, etc. I also need a read on the unemployment picture, should our goods be boycotted by the West. Colonel Lake, I want you to draw up three options: first, using the PLA to intimidate Taiwan into agreeing to a federal union and not declaring their full independence; second, launching an all-out invasion to conquer Taiwan; and third, launching a full-scale invasion of Taiwan as a prelude to a sustained campaign to conquer Asia.” Dowling’s voice grew more authoritative with every sentence until, by the time he was giving instructions to his military chief, one could imagine him as the leader of a nation of 1.3 billion people.

  “I want your recommendations briefed to me per the following schedule: Ms. Klein, from 3:30 to 3:35. Dr. Wendell, from 3:35 to 3:45. Mr. Ye, from 3:45 to 3:55. Colonel Lake, from 3:55 to 4:10, give me five minutes on each option. I expect that each briefing will stick to schedule. At the end of the briefings I will take a vote from my four key players on which option to take, then I will make my decision and set the proper preparations in motion for our blue and green team colleagues to react to tomorrow. If you have any questions, please see me.”

  Donna looked across the table to Colonel Lake. It was obvious that the Colonel wasn’t much interested in option one. He wanted to flex his muscles.

  Dr. Wendell spoke softly, leaning to his left so that his shoulder brushed up against Donna’s “It looks like you’ve got the only realistic assignment. I can’t believe the Chinese would throw away all the economic progress they’ve made in the last 20 years just to conquer a tiny island with no resources.”

  Donna didn’t li
ke the man from State’s attitude. She replied tersely, “No one believed that Argentina would invade the Falkland Islands in 1982 either. Sometimes nations do things for reasons beyond their checkbook.” Dr. Wendell snorted softly.

  Donna went to work. She found a lieutenant colonel who was playing the role of a PRC Taiwan expert. He was recently back from a tour in Taipei as a defense attaché to what was in fact, if not in name, the American embassy in Taiwan. (It was called the American Institute in Taiwan to avoid offending Beijing.) Donna took the opportunity to gain some first-hand knowledge of the Taiwanese political scene from someone other than a CIA employee. What she found made her realize that her assigned task was virtually hopeless. The Taiwanese simply enjoyed their freedom too much to risk any sort of a political union with the Mainland that could take their freedom away. Further, the indigenous Taiwanese were becoming increasingly powerful; representing about 84% of the population, they had more pro-independence leanings than the Mainland Chinese and their descendants who came over with General Chiang Kai-shek in 1949. (Ironically, the Communists funded pro-independence movements in Taiwan through the 1960s and 70s when the Nationalist government in Taiwan still held designs of one day leading all of China.)

  With the lieutenant colonel’s assistance, Donna crafted a five minute briefing that concluded any political reunification with Taiwan could only come if the Communist Party loosened its grip on power, allowed dissent, and, completely unthinkable, allowed a multi-party republic with a strong, independent rule of law. In other words, reunification would only be possible through the death of the Communist Party as it now existed. Donna could only wonder at the fate of a Chinese Premier who made that recommendation to the President and Communist Party Chairman.

  She read the briefing twice in her head, timing it to four minutes and forty-five seconds. Perfect. She looked up and noticed there was no clock on the wall. She glanced at her wristwatch, her one anomaly in her otherwise conservative dress, it was a old stainless steel and plastic Swatch watch with glow-in-the-dark hands and numbers, a collectable she paid over $150 for. Noon. Lunch time. Just as she thought it, two carts were wheeled in, one with chilled sodas and a few milks in a large iced bowl and one with sandwiches and fruit. Not the Ritz, but timely and, by the looks of it, wholesome. She grabbed a tuna fish sandwich and a Pepsi (she had a caffeine deficit to make-up, that was the room’s one shortcoming—no coffeepot—she’d have to have a talk with the simulation coordinator).

  She noticed that most of the military officers were eating standing up, talking earnestly with one another while most of the civilians were eating at the table, reading through their papers. Interesting, why is that, she wondered? She sat with her food and did what she did best: analyzed. Hmmm. Well, most of the military personnel work at the Pentagon and many probably know each other. Talking together would make sense. Good networking. Common experiences, etc. Most of the civilians are probably from other agencies. Ye was from Commerce. The good doctor, from State with others, perhaps. No doubt there was the guy from Energy, a nuclear weapons analyst probably. She saw a slightly familiar face in a suit across the table. The nametag on the table in front of the man was knocked down. CIA? She spoke up, “Donna Klein, CIA.”

  The forty-something man looked up. He was between mouthfuls. “O’Donnell, CIA.” He returned to his sandwich. But just as he tucked his head down to take a large bite of pastrami, Donna could see his blue eyes smile at her from under his bushy red eyebrows.

  “Does everyone from the CIA think they’re super-spies or something? What are you doing here? Hal, is it?”

  Hal O’Donnell took a large burning, fizzing drag of his Seven Up to down the huge bite of meat and bread he swallowed, “Why yes, Ms. Klein, how perceptive of you. I’m flattered you remembered my name. Do you remember what I do?” At the last comment he twice wriggled his eyebrows, making them look for all in the world like small rodents.

  For some reason, the memory of Hal’s specialty popped into Donna’s head. Then she knew why; Hal taught a two-hour course to a group of freshmen analysts on the psychology of leaders. “You’re a psychologist,” she said firmly.

  “Bingo, you win the cigar!” Hal exclaimed, revealing tobacco and coffee stained teeth. “I’m here to make sure all you warmongers don’t choose a course of action that results in certain death for those who made the decision.”

  “I see,” Donna retorted, “How do you figure in the Asian concept of face and dishonor?”

  Hal looked mockingly serious, “Veeery carefully.” His face then changed again to semi-serious, “Just think of me as the devil’s advocate or the reality check—if you choose an everyone-dies, Armageddon scenario, it won’t be easy with me around nagging you!”

  Donna chuckled. “Nice to meet you again. Behave yourself or I’ll have you executed so I can harvest your organs to finance my next junket to Paris!”

  “Yes, Comrade Premier,” Hal said impishly.

  Colonel Lake walked up behind Hal just as he finished. “Comrade Premier, do you want me to fix this for you?” He said menacingly.

  “No comrade people’s general, you may let him keep his kidneys for another day,” Donna turned serious in a heartbeat, “But Colonel Lake, I am very interested to hear more about your two previous simulations. Please take a seat and fill me in. By the way,” she added as an afterthought, “Isn’t it uncomfortable to eat standing up?”

  The colonel grinned. His jaw was very square and she noticed that his nose was a bit askew. You couldn’t tell from the profile but it was obvious this man had his nose broken at least once. “I guess you get used to eating standing up when all you have to sit on is sharp, hot rocks with scorpions lurking underneath. It’s an Army thing.” He walked around the end of the table and took Cliff Dowling’s empty chair—Cliff had vanished as soon as lunch arrived. “What do you do for the Company?”

  Donna thought briefly of using the old standby: if I told you I’d have to kill you—but thought better of it. It was time to get serious. “I work the China section as a political intelligence analyst in the Office of Asian Pacific and Latin American Affairs with the Directorate of Intelligence. And you?”

  The colonel looked sadly contemplative, “I work for the Office of Secretary of Defense, Plans and Operations. I’m really a tanker who must have offended some god of war somewhere who decided to punish me by ending my career in the dreaded five sided building.”

  “So tell me about your last two failed attempts at attacking Taiwan.”

  “It was simple, really. I mobilized my forces. Crossed the straits. And was unceremoniously sunk by the U.S. fleet. The few troops that made it across dry were rounded up by day two. I was humiliated.” The Colonel gave a look of mock hurt.

  “I see. How did it happen that the U.S. fleet was there in force, did the PLA employ strategic deception?”

  The Colonel nodded appreciatively, then said with quiet strength, “The game wasn’t that sophisticated. It was mainly seen as a force-on-force exercise to see if the U.S. Navy could still control the Taiwan Strait, protect Taiwan, and do so with acceptable casualties.”

  “And?”

  “And they did so quite well. On the second scenario one of my Russian-built Kilo class attack subs actually got into position to torpedo a carrier but they declared EndEx before the skipper could pull the trigger.”

  “So they ended the exercise on you before you could exact some revenge? It sounds like the simulation was more tactical than this one.”

  “Yes. It was run in double real time. We squeezed in two days for every one day and ran it for five days. Didn’t sleep much but I had a blast. Best time I’ve had, uh, since I was exiled to the Pentagon.” (the Colonel was going to say, “Best time I’ve had with my clothes on since. . .” but his sexual harassment training kicked in and he squelched it.)

  “Did you use NBC?” Donna used the military acronym for Nuclear, Biological and Chemical.

  “Hell no, we weren’t allowed to incorporate
it into our game.” Colonel Lake frowned, “I heard that the folks that wrote the scenario were overruled by some Sched Cs in the SECDEF’s office. The little weasels thought the butchers of Tiananmen wouldn’t slime their capitalist brothers across the straits—or that it wasn’t politically correct to think so, anyway.”

  Donna picked up the reference to “Sched C”, it stood for Schedule C employee, an employee exempted from civil service job protections by dint of the fact they were political appointees who worked in the government at the will of the President. They weren’t high enough up the food chain to be confirmed by the Senate, but they formed the political backbone of any administration. Donna remembered that each administration could appoint about 1,100 Schedule Cs. They had a few at the CIA, not too many though—most political hacks from this administration couldn’t get a CIA clearance. The reference to “slime” meant getting hit with chemical agents as she recalled from a CIA military analyst who had previously served in the Army before getting out and letting the GI Bill pay for his masters degree. “How would you do things differently Colonel?”

  “I’d remove America from the way, either by deception or by intimidation. Then I’d use every asset at my disposal to make the invasion as swift and violent as possible. The quicker I could crush the opposition, the less chance for things to go wrong. Of course, there’s one small problem. . .”