by Chuck DeVore
Admiral Hai could barely contain his contempt for this line of reasoning, “The U.S. and Russia defeated the Axis powers. Russia is on our side now. We could practically buy Russia tomorrow—we already own half their politicians. Besides, Japan only moved to capture Indonesian oil fields after America instituted an oil embargo on Japan. The Japanese reacted to an American initiative. What would happen to us if we allowed the Americans to seize the initiative and cut off our oil?”
Defense Minister Han snorted, “This is madness! You’re proposing war with America. We’re not ready yet, I tell you!” Han glared at the room. His gaze assiduously avoided Chairman Han and Premier Wang.
There was a brief silence as the group absorbed this. “No one is proposing going to war against the U.S.,” Premier Wang said finally. “We are merely discussing Fu Zemin’s proposal to recover our own sovereign territory, the renegade province of Taiwan.”
Hearing his name mentioned by the Premier, Fu jumped back into the conversation.
“The time to act is now,” he said, eyes flashing with confidence. “The United States is beginning to wake up to the ‘China threat’, even though our diplomatic establishment ridicules the idea every time it is aired. Our military buildup is too massive to hide from U.S. spy satellites much longer. The next American President will remedy the deficiencies of the present one. Look at the Reagan military build-up following the Carter years. The next President will think about reinforcing the Pacific. We must preempt that. We can then offer peace to the new American President from a position of strength. He will be glad to accept peace in exchange for our hegemony over Asia.”
The Vice Chairman of the Military Affairs Commission nodded vigorously. “We at the Military Affairs Commission are particularly concerned about America’s successful anti-ballistic missile tests. There is already talk of putting up defensive shields over Japan, Korea, and Taiwan. How much leverage will our missiles give us over the reactionaries then? If we wait too long we may fritter away our advantages.”
“And don’t forget about the growing militarism in Japan,” interjected General Lu Zhandui, commander of the PLA army forces. “The dwarf bandits have never apologized to us for their atrocities in World War II. They’ve started flying that son-of-a-turtle’s-egg rising sun flag again, that hated symbol of Japanese imperialism. Mark my words, the day will come when Japan arms itself with nuclear weapons, and with 400 tons of plutonium on hand from their civilian nuclear industry they could build a lot of bombs.”
At this, Admiral Hai spoke up again. “Worse yet, Japan’s new defense treaty with the U.S. invites the U.S. Navy to patrol our shores.”
“China is vulnerable to a hostile power possessing a more powerful navy,” Defense Minister Han cautioned. “What if the U.S. Navy blockades China in retaliation for invading Taiwan?”
Admiral Hai’s voice cut through the air. “Give me Taiwan and the South China Sea and I will guarantee the safety of Chinese shipping down to Indonesia. Our new destroyers and cruisers are the equal of America’s in almost every way.”
“They should be,” Vice Chairman Li said in mock whisper. “We stole the plans.”
Admiral Hai permitted himself a brief smile at Li’s remark before continuing, “The keels of many more warships are being laid as we speak. We already have the third largest merchant marine fleet in the world. The addition of Taiwan’s fleet will put us in second place. Meanwhile, the U.S. Navy continues to shrink.”
“You speak bravely, Admiral Hai, but may I be permitted to inquire, how well can an unarmed keel fight?” the Defense Minister fixed his gaze on his jingoistic admiral.
“Even so,” Premier Wang asserted, “An American blockade would be an act of war against China. Do any of you really think that America, under its current President, would dare to attack China? Unlike Iraq or Yugoslavia, we can hit back. America is brave when it can bully. Their bravery will turn to prudence against China.”
The meeting broke up into small groups, some arguing in favor of, others against, Fu’s proposal. Fu noted with some concern that Chairman Han did not express an opinion either way. He did his best. He advocated action and tried to break the more than half-century impasse with the Nationalists on Taiwan. His proposal and with it, his career, were now in the hands of the leadership. Fu found himself staring at the cold majesty of the dragon.
The meetings in the Dragon Room continued the second day, but the moon doors had been closed to Fu and the other aides. These sessions were for principals only. Fu spent his day on a nearby terrace, discussing with the aides who had gathered there the details of his plan. He was somewhat reassured by their reaction. Most approved of his plan and believed that the leaders would adopt it. But would they?
It was the morning of the third day. Fu was back in his seat alongside the other aides in the Dragon Room, eager to learn the outcome of the closed deliberations of the previous day. Chairman Han politely called the meeting to order.
“Our country’s history is one of national greatness,” he began quietly. “For most of our 5,000 years the Chinese Empire was second to none. It had the greatest land area, the largest population, the most productive economy, the most powerful army, and the most advanced technology of any power on earth. The West likes to brag about the Roman Empire, but our Han dynasty two millennia ago was twice as large, three times as populous, and had four times as many men under arms. And where are the Romans today? Gone. Swept away by history. Yet China lives on. Europe is broken up into petty states. What is ‘great’ about the country that calls itself Great Britain? It is smaller in size and population than many of our provinces. Calling it ‘Little Britain’ would be more appropriate.” A wave of laughter went through the room. Chairman Han smiled. He continued, “Germany? The Third Reich was their last attempt at greatness. Hitler said it would last 1,000 years—it lasted less than 20 and at its greatest extent, it barely equaled for about one year our current landmass. France? A mere shadow of its former greatness.”
Chairman Han has a nice smile, but he has iron teeth, Fu thought. Many Big Noses in the West continued to underestimate this man. They called him a transitional figure, until he outlasted their own leaders. They questioned his political astuteness, without realizing that he had survived political struggles far fiercer than their own. They were disarmed by his kindly demeanor, his horn-rimmed glasses that gave him an avuncular look, without realizing the iron will and ruthlessness that lay within. Few Chinese made the same mistake.
“Only 200 years ago, China dominated half the world. Half the world!” Han repeated, stretching out his arms for emphasis. “The Great Emperor Qian Long held sway over a vast territory. It stretched from the Russian Far East west across southern Siberia to Lake Baikal and into contemporary Kazakhstan. It reached southeastward along the Himalayas to the Indian Ocean, and then eastward across Laos and northern Vietnam. Tribute came from Korea, Tibet, Nepal, Burma, Thailand, and Indochina. Japan did not dare to offend us. We were universally admired for our culture. We were everywhere feared for our military might. We enjoyed hegemony.
“Then came the Big Noses.” An unpleasant look crossed Chairman Han’s face. “They imposed opium on our people, sapping their will. They took our best ports for themselves, and turned China into a semi-colony. In their treaty ports they treated us like dogs. No, worse than dogs. I’m from Shanghai. As a child my grandfather told me about a park in Shanghai’s foreign concession which Chinese were forbidden to enter. A sign hung at its entrance. ‘No dogs or Chinese allowed,’ it read. Dogs were put ahead of Chinese! We were barred from our own soil!
“China’s fall from greatness is a matter of shame for all living Chinese. This loss of face cannot be wiped away by merely allowing China to take its place among the so-called ‘family of nations’. The rectification of China’s historic grievances requires not merely diplomatic equality—we enjoy this already—but strategic dominance. The world needs a hegemon. Fate decreed that the hegemon of the nineteenth century would be
‘Little Britain’. Fate decreed that the hegemon of the twentieth century would be the United States. And fate shall decree that the hegemon of the twenty-first century and beyond shall be China!
“We have built up our country out of the ruins of Western devastation. Economically, and yes, militarily. Thanks to the efforts of Premier Wang and Vice Premier Su, we have made it through the Asian economic crisis while maintaining near double digit growth. We have heard about our military advances, thanks to the excellent work of Vice Chairman Li and the PLA Chiefs-of-Staff.”
Fu noted the absence of Defense Minister Han’s name.
His voice began to swell in volume. “The Americans speak of Manifest Destiny. I am here to tell you that China has a manifest destiny of its own. It is destined to recover its traditional place in the world. We will be once again the Middle Kingdom, the kingdom at the center of the earth. We will once again be tianxia, the ruler of all under heaven!”
Chairman Han shouted the last sentence, and the group rewarded him with thunderous applause. Fu’s chest swelled with pride—both nationalistic and personal.
“The lowering of the Union Jack in Hong Kong is a start,” Chairman Han continued, his voice quieter now. “This has redeemed China’s painful humiliation at the hands of the British in the Opium Wars. The Japanese were crushed in World War Two. The collapse of the Soviet Union has brought the Central Asian republics closer to us once again. All of this is good.
“But there is one country that has not been punished by history. One country which struts about the world stage. One country which bombs our embassies. Which sends its warships up and down our coasts. Which keeps China divided from its island province. Which keeps troops in our tributary states. This country’s arrogance knows no bounds.
“I am sure that you all recall when I invited the American President to Beijing University for a joint press conference. But do you remember what he did? He lectured me about human rights. In my own country. In our national university. He lectured me, the Chairman of the Chinese Communist Party, the President of the People’s Republic of China!
“At that moment, all China was insulted.” Chairman Han’s face went red with the remembrance. “I smiled at him through clenched teeth. Inwardly, I was furious. How dare he insult me in front of my people, I thought.
“Everywhere we look, we are hemmed in by the Americans. They have usurped the role of world hegemon, and threaten world peace. They promote a cold war mentality, now directed at us. They are expanding NATO eastward to check our ambitions in Central Asia. They are the principal prop of the Japanese. They are expanding the U.S.-Japan alliance westward to check our rightful ambitions in the Pacific. They threaten and invade smaller countries, in order to bring them to heel. They use international economic organizations to control the flow of trade and investments in their favor.
“It is time for this to stop!” His voice rose once again to a crescendo. “It is time for the U.S. to get out of Asia! It is time for the Seventh Fleet to leave our territorial waters. It is time for the American occupying troops to leave South Korea and allow the reunification of China’s traditional ally under a pro-Beijing regime. It is time for Taiwan to rejoin the motherland!”
Once again the room exploded into applause. Fu found himself leaning forward in his seat in expectation, certain now that Chairman Han was going to announce that the invasion plan—his invasion plan—was going forward.
The Chairman looked at him, and seemed to smile. “This is the Year of the Dragon,” he said quietly. “The leadership of the CCP, after extended debate, has unanimously decided to undertake Operation Dragon Strike. As a first step in the recovery of Taiwan, we will take Quemoy in a combined air, naval, and amphibious assault. The fall of Quemoy will force Taiwan into a political accommodation. Once Taiwan starts down that path, of course, it will eventually become ours.”
The Chairman continued to speak, but Fu was no longer listening. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. The attack would be limited to Quemoy! Taiwan itself would be spared! Quemoy! A miserable little island only five miles long and three miles wide. The Chairman continued to speak but Fu was no longer listening.
“Half measures will never work,” he blurted out. “You just buy time for the U.S. to bring its great strength to bear.” Fu was struggling—unsuccessfully—to keep the anger and disappointment out of his voice. “The shock of losing Quemoy will lead the U.S. to arm Taiwan with the most modern weapons. A ballistic missile defense system will be deployed. U.S. warships will again patrol the Taiwan Straits. Taiwan will be lost for a generation.”
His voice trailed off as he realized what he had done. He had just interrupted, no, contradicted, the Chairman of the Chinese Communist Party in open session. What had he been thinking? He stood up quickly and bowed.
“Please forgive my impertinence, Chairman Han,” he managed to mumble, then turned quickly and practically ran out of the room.
The secret conclave had ended that same afternoon. And with it my career, thought Fu Zemin morosely as he watched from the window of his bieshu as China’s senior leaders departed one by one in their chauffeur-driven Mercedes Benzes.
He had just begun to pack his travel bags when a knock came at the door. He recognized his visitor as a member of Chairman Han’s personal staff. “The Chairman would like to have dinner with you tonight,” his visitor said, smiling.
Fu felt his heart leap within his breast. He could barely contain his excitement for the two hours’ wait until dinner was to begin.
The Minister of the Interior, Ren Baisha, was alone with Chairman Han and Premier Wang. Ren looked grim, “If the Nationalist troops on Quemoy go on alert in the next few days, we will know that word of this meeting has reached them. It will confirm our conjecture that their spies have penetrated the upper echelons of the People’s Government.”
“Yes, but who?” Chairman Han said thoughtfully. “How much in the way of foreign investments does the Defense Minister have?”
“Our investigation turned up approximately 350 million. That’s U.S. Dollars, not our own currency,” the Interior Minister replied. “There may be more. The Swiss banks are particularly tight-lipped.”
“Ahh . . .” murmured the premier, who had trouble conceiving of such a number. His own private investments, assembled from the hundreds of bribes that had come his way, totaled just a fraction of that.
“Why so much?” Chairman Han queried.
“When you forced the PLA to divest its holdings a couple of years ago Han Fubai made sure he was first in line to grab a small chunk of each spun off company,” the Interior Minister replied. “Han sells everything from diesel generators to AK-47s overseas. His biggest market is the United States. The Defense Minister’s annual income is something in the neighborhood of 30 million dollars. . . .”
The three of them silently contemplated that figure for a few minutes.
“The most interesting thing that we uncovered was a stake in several major Taiwan corporations,” Ren continued. “Han Fubai is heavily invested on the island. There are frequent communications between his son, who is his business representative in Hong Kong, and certain individuals in Taiwan.”
Chairman Han arched his eyebrows. “So you think . . .”
“The Minister of Defense was adamantly opposed to the invasion plan that Fu Zemin put forward,” Ren reminded him. “This may be more than just a desire to protect his business empire. Han Fubai may be a defeatist, or he may be a . . .” Ren paused so his listeners could fill in the blank.
“What about Su Zhongqiang?” Chairman Han queried. “He also opposed our plans.”
“Old Su is no traitor,” Premier Wang answered. “ ‘War is bad for business, Fuguo,’ he told me. ‘After the Tiananmen incident, foreign investment dried up for a couple of years.’ But then they came back, I pointed out, more eager than ever to build their factories here.”
“I talked to him also,” Minister Ren added. “I told him that our little action
against Quemoy would be over in a matter of days. The capitalists need China’s cheap labor and huge market too much to boycott us. He just shook his head and complained about the shock to the economy.”
“We don’t need a defeatist like him,” Chairman Han said decisively. “Fuguo, I suggest you offer him an honorable retirement.” Premier Wang nodded silently.
“Is there anyone else who’s wavering?” Han asked already knowing the answer.
“Everyone else is with us,” Ren assured his comrades.
Fu Zemin was escorted to the Chairman’s quarters. The Chairman greeted him like an old friend, asking him to take the place of honor directly across from him at the table. “You know Minister Ren and Premier Wang, of course,” the Chairman said, introducing the two others at the table.
The servers, young women selected for their grace and beauty, began to noiselessly bring delicacies to the table.
“Try some of this Dry Roasted Chicken,” the Chairman suggested, delicately picking up one of the choicest pieces with his chopsticks and placing it on Fu’s plate.
“You’re too polite,” Fu responded nervously, embarrassed by the Chairman’s attentions. “I’ll help myself.” He popped the piece into his mouth immediately to show his appreciation. It felt like his mouth had been invaded by a torchlight procession. The Chairman, being from Shanghai, liked his food hot, Fu recalled too late. He could scarcely stop his eyes from watering.
“Little too hot, eh?” the Chairman chuckled. “You know my cook buys everything locally for me when we travel, everything except the hot peppers. Wherever we go he brings along a case of Hunan peppers, the hottest in China. Without them the food would be tasteless.”
Minister Ren and Premier Wang smiled knowingly.
