by Chuck DeVore
“We are very honored to be on a very important patriotic mission. The Americans are threatening to seize the renegade province of Taiwan and use China’s island as a launching pad of aggression against the Chinese people. We, of course, know their plans and are not helpless. We are going to frustrate the plans of America and reunite Taiwan under the rightful rule of China.” The sergeant’s voice easily carried above the sloshing water cans. The conscript thought of water, then realized that the sergeant was talking of war!
“Today we are in Taiwan in Tainan Harbor. Our mission is to secure the harbor from the American imperialists. Within 30 minutes we will leave this ship and occupy key harbor installations. We do not expect resistance from our Chinese brothers on Taiwan. Before we leave the ship we will put on our protective masks. To save the citizens of China from confusion and harm we will dispense incapacitating agent from this ship. This gas will render all who are not wearing protective masks incapable of resistance for about two hours. During this time we will be able to move about the harbor area freely and disarm and secure any police or military personnel we find.”
The private’s eyes shifted from the platoon sergeant to the clutch of canteens slowly being filled and passed out to the troops. A canteen reached him and he guzzled the water. He felt as if he would throw up, but he struggled to calm himself and settled his stomach. Ahh water. War?
“After putting on our masks and on my signal, our platoon will march down the ramp, turn left and proceed about 1,000 meters down the dockyard. There, we will occupy the Tainan Harbor Customs office building and await further instructions.”
The private’s brain was beginning to think of something other than water. We’re at war? We’re saving Taiwan from the Americans?
“One last thing, the Party has told the PLA that soldiers who distinguish themselves in this action will receive special dispensation from the government to have up to two children without penalty. In addition, all of us will receive a special 2,000 Yuan bonus (about $200) for having the honor of being here today!” There was a buzz of excitement in the hold. The men were coming to life and were looking forward to getting out of the inside of the ship—even if it meant fighting afterward.
The skipper of a ROC Navy Chien Lung-class submarine had seen this maneuver five times since last March: the PLAN amphibious assault ships would race up to the edge of Taiwan’s territorial limits near Quemoy, then retreat. Each time the forces of the PLAN would be better organized, larger, and come closer than they had before. This time promised to be no different.
He just wished they’d come across the line, just once. He knew he and his crew of the quiet Dutch-built diesel submarine could sink more than a few ships with its six torpedo tubes and the new, made-in-Taiwan, Hsiung Feng II surface-to-surface missiles.
Sinking surface shipping wasn’t his main concern—staying alive for more than ten minutes after firing his missiles and torpedoes was. In the last few years the PLAN had acquired some formidable anti-submarine warfare (ASW) systems; most worrisome were the three Russian-built Kilo class SSKs the PLAN were known to have operational with a fourth in trials. Those submarines, made with the benefit of ultra-quiet propeller blades built by computer-controlled nine-axis milling machines sold illegally by a Japanese company to the old Soviet Union some 15 years ago, were known by the nickname, “Pacific Black Hole.” Completely covered with rubber insulation material, the Kilos were capable of moving undetected into attack position. The skipper probably wouldn’t hear the enemy sub until it flooded its torpedo tubes in preparation to fire. Of course, then there were the ASW helicopters armed with sonobuoys and A-244S Whitehead torpedoes. In any event, he hoped his colleagues on the surface would manage to keep the enemy helicopters off his back. Working as a team with surface combatants, the ROCN’s Chien Lung-type sub was free to pursue enemy targets a bit more aggressively. He was absolutely confident that with the friendly naval task force overhead, his submarine could take a large toll of the enemy and live to fight again—assuming those Kilos weren’t around.
He looked at the tactical display: this time it looked as if at least 30 vessels were closing in on Hsiao Quemoy Island (one of the islands of Quemoy) from the southwest across Amoy Bay—hardly a huge invasion force. He wondered what the picture was from Weituo Bay sector to the north. He knew that his friendly rival and commander of the other Dutch boat would be steaming well out of the way, probably around the Penghu Islands. He smiled—poor bastard was missing out on all the action. If the PLAN decides to play today and I can sink a few of them, he mused, I’ll be an admiral and he’ll be serving me tea at naval headquarters.
He ordered the crew to head for deeper waters to the east and to send a coded communication of his intent to the task force above. A month ago, fleet intelligence had hinted the Communists might try soon to take Quemoy as they last did in 1958 during the Second Taiwan Straits crisis. If today was going to result in a fight, he wanted some room to maneuver.
* * *
The pilot of the Russian built Ilyushin-76 aircraft was frantic. He was screaming for clearance to land at Sungshan.
Another hijacking. The senior air traffic controller at Taipei Sungshan Airport at the northeastern edge of Taipei proper had been through this before when he worked as a junior controller at Chiang Kai-Shek (CKS) International Airport. He knew what to do, but what a rotten time for this to happen. Half of his crew was down with the flu. He was starting to feel under the weather today as well—a massive headache was coming on. And it was so early his tea hadn’t time to fully take effect.
He never understood why the Mainlanders hijacked aircraft. The Taiwan authorities always arrested the hijackers and returned them to the Mainland where they most assuredly would be executed.
The pilot pleaded with the controllers. Well, there were procedures to be followed. The senior controller called airport security and informed them of the unfortunate situation. Next, he placed all inbound aircraft on indefinite delay, ordering them to circle overhead in a holding pattern.
The aircraft would be landing in a few minutes. He saw a few security police take up their stations. Everything was in order. He gave the hijacked Il-76 from Ganzhou clearance to land.
Now, to find something for that headache.
* * *
The Chinese J-6 jet fighter belonged in a museum. Still, it was the mainstay of the People’s Liberation Army Air Force (PLAAF), accounting for over two-thirds of the more than 2,500 fighters in service. Highly maneuverable and fairly fast with a 1.45 Mach maximum speed, the J-6 boasted three 30mm cannons and two air-to-air missiles. Its wings began far forward and swept sharply back. The rudder and horizontal stabilizer were also swept back. The front of the aircraft featured a large air intake for its two Liming WP-6 afterburning turbojets. It looked almost exactly like the old Soviet-era MiG-19 from which it was a much-improved copy.
Unfortunately, the avionics were also antique; based on vacuum tubes and circuit breakers, they were slow to discover enemy aircraft and virtually blind when warning of hostile anti-air-missile launches. If flying against a primitive opponent, or with overwhelming numbers against a modern fleet, the J-6 might be able to inflict some losses; otherwise, it was a waste of pilot training and fuel on the cusp of the 21st Century.
Still, orders were orders and the pilot had a job to do. Normally assigned to the Mongolian border region at an air base on the edge of the Gobi Desert, the 1st Lieutenant was ordered to self-deploy with his squadron across thousands of kilometers of China to the southern coastal region. He hadn’t been able to enjoy the local food or women, but when they eventually let him off base, he fully intended to take advantage of his luck. Of course, he first had to survive his mission.
He climbed into his cockpit and began his preflight check. He thought of the squadron commander’s briefing 30 minutes before. The commander said this mission would be the most demanding, most exciting and most productive mission of their lives. He also said the PLA had some tricks u
p their sleeves and not to worry, everything was planned for. After all, if that wasn’t the case, why would the commander be flying with them this day?
So, today he might see combat. His engines sped up and began spinning on their own power. He inhaled deeply and wondered why his radio transmitter was disabled by the ground crews. He supposed the generals figured tactical surprise outweighed the advantage of being able to communicate with his wing-mates in combat. The flagman on the grass beside the taxiway motioned for him to proceed to the runway to await the signal for takeoff.
Soon he was airborne and cruising at 50,000 feet. He noted the time. It was 0745 hours. Within ten minutes they ought to be over the target and engaging the enemy. The sun in his eyes placed him at a tactical disadvantage, but the enemy’s advanced radar really made it irrelevant who saw whom first. The ROCAF pilots would be able to launch three or four waves of long-range missiles before he would able to see and engage them. The PLAAF would have to rely on superior numbers and attrition to destroy their foes.
The squadron commander began to descend and turn slightly to the right. The 11 aircraft followed closely on their commander’s tail. Soon they were back in the thin high altitude cloud layer—ice crystals, really. A few moments later they broke through the deck. What a beautiful sight. Far below the pilot saw the west coast of the island. There was a thin line of beach with dark green everywhere. Ahead and to the right he saw a range of mountains, almost black with vegetation and moisture and largely obscured by billowing thunderclouds. It was 0755 hours.
His radio receiver crackled to life. It was the commander, “We’ll be entering enemy airspace in ten seconds. Be alert.”
The pilot caught the inbound streaks of light out of the corner of his eye. An instant later Flight One’s wingman exploded in an angry ball of molten metal and jet fuel. The commander began speaking when Flight One leader took a missile up the tailpipe and exploded. “Stay steady men. Keep the formation together,” the colonel’s voice was oddly calm, detached. This time, the explosion wasn’t as catastrophic. As the wreckage of the damaged aircraft began to fall to the rear of the formation, the pilot could see that Flight One leader’s canopy was intact. He hoped the officer would be able to parachute to safety on land. Suddenly, the last two aircraft from Flight One were engulfed in flames and spinning down to the ocean below. Four aircraft down in the space of five seconds and the enemy was nowhere to be seen!
Despite his discipline and his nationalistic feelings about Greater China, the pilot was beginning to panic. Once again, the colonel’s voice came over his helmet radio receiver, “We’re almost there men. . .”
A burst of rude static cut the colonel’s voice off. The static was then replaced by a loud voice saying, “Pilot’s of the People’s Liberation Army Air Force, you are invading the airspace of the democratic peace-loving people’s of the Republic of Taiwan. We are your brothers. . .”
The pilot was drawn to this unexpected statement for a moment, then training took over and he reached into his cockpit control panel and switched to the first alternate frequency. He heard the reassuring voice of the colonel, “. . .firm men, steady, we’re. . .” Again static hammered the frequency. The pilot cursed the infernal interference from the renegade Taiwanese.
His missile warning light came on, and an audible signal buzzed malevolently in the cockpit. He instantly forgot about the jamming from one of Taiwan’s C-130HE Sky Jam tactical command, control and communications countermeasures aircraft—he had more pressing concerns. He again cursed the unseen enemy and the enemy’s superior equipment. This was not much of a fight, he thought; he wished he could at least see and engage his enemy once before he died.
* * *
The Communists had never defeated the Republic of China Air Force (ROCAF). The ROCAF had always maintained technical superiority and, most importantly, had always trained to a higher standard than the PLAAF. The ROC pilot, just promoted to captain last week, assured himself of this as he followed his wing commander’s moves, still feeling very weak from the worst case of the flu he ever had. Still, he felt fortunate to be in the air. Fully half of the pilots in his squadron couldn’t even make it to their aircraft when word came the PLAAF was coming across the Taiwan Strait on one of their largest practice sorties yet.
A few minutes before, they had scrambled out of the Hsinchu Air Base, some 55 kilometers west southwest of Taipei in their top-of-the-line French Mirage 2000-5s. The 2000-5 could take anything in the PLAAF inventory—except the new Russian-built Su-27s, called the J-11 by the Chinese. While lacking the speed, maneuverability, and offensive punch of the J-11/Su-27, the captain knew he had four advantages his PLAAF counterparts did not: better training, better missiles, better avionics and superior electronic counter measures (ECM). He hoped the Communist Chinese were unlikely to risk any of their 50 newly purchased Su-27s over the extremely hostile air environment that Taiwan projected.
Still, he was a little concerned when he received a report that at least 20 Su-27s were seen in the air near the Taiwanese-held Matsu Islands, just off the coast of Mainland China, headed towards Taipei. He became puzzled when HQ radioed that these aircraft had turned around and were headed back to the Mainland, leaving at least 800 of the old J-6s still inbound towards Taiwan. Of these, about half were headed for the northern part of the island, vectoring in on Taoyuan Air Base and Hsinchu Air Base. He ran the engagement math: 400 J-6s against the 18 Mirage 2000-5s from Hsinchu and about 30 F-5Es from Taoyuan. We should knock down a little over 130 aircraft on the first engagement, probably losing two or three Mirages and up to half of the F-5s. Then up to 75 F-5Es from Hualien (was that base hit by the flu too?) would get into the act. Arriving a few minutes later, they’d probably get another 100 aircraft, leaving a little over 160 for the air defenders to contend with. He knew he’d draw blood today, if the Mainlanders crossed the 12-mile mark and violated Taiwanese airspace. He just didn’t know if he’d live to tell anyone about it.
Using data fed to them from the orbiting TW-3 airborne early warning aircraft (an E-2T Hawkeye, the same AEW aircraft the Americans used on their carriers), the ROCAF squadron was ordered to fly to 51,000 feet and come about to 110 degrees to intercept the enemy from above and behind. The captain’s head’s up display (HUD) showed the target squadron at 1 o’clock, below the cloud deck about 15 miles off. He could “see” four other squadrons as well on his HUD, further to the front and below this one, courtesy of his on-board radar and the enhanced radar returns from the TW-3.
The TW-3 was a key part of Taiwan’s ability to repel a PLAAF attack. Taiwan’s AWACS capability (one of only three Asian nations to have such capability along with Japan and Singapore) greatly enhanced warning time for the ROCAF. The TW-3 could detect targets hundreds of miles away and direct fighters to intercept hostile aircraft.
Their orders were simple, as soon as the lead enemy squadron passed into Taiwanese airspace they could engage at will. The new government in Taipei had been getting tired of Beijing’s continuous provocations over the past half year. Especially irksome were Beijing’s heavy-handed maneuvers during the last presidential election in March. This time, Beijing would be the one getting a message: Taiwan was not interested in reunifying with authoritarian bully under the barrel of a gun.
The captain’s radio squawked to life, his flight commander ordered him to target the leftmost enemy flight of aircraft and fire when ready. The captain moved the weapons track to the left and highlighted four target aircraft. The Mirage’s on board radar went into targeting mode and narrowed the beam to focus on the target area. He pushed the button that sent the targeting information to the four long-range French MATRA MICA radar guided missiles. He would save the two MATRA Magic II short-range infrared missiles for the close-in fight (if one called engaging up to eight nautical miles away close-in). His thumb flipped up the safety latch on top of the stick and pressed the launch button four times. With each press, he was rewarded with a smooth whoosh as the deadly accurate miss
ile left its launch rail and streaked out towards its unseen target. He breathed a sigh of relief, maybe dogfighting with the flu wasn’t so bad after all—in any event, a little virus wasn’t about to stop him from being the first ROCAF pilot to become an ace in several decades.
* * *
Just outside the 12-mile territorial limits of Taiwan, a Chinese cruise ship was in trouble. One of five luxury passenger ships of the COSCO line based in Amoy across from Quemoy, the ship normally cruised twice weekly to Japan.
The Chinese captain had radioed a distress call. His engine room was on fire and his internal firefighting equipment was malfunctioning. He had 2,300 passengers on board, three days out of Shanghai and was requesting immediate permission to enter Taiwan’s Keelung Harbor to receive fire fighting and humanitarian assistance.
Seeing an opportunity to score some propaganda points, the Maritime Police immediately agreed, sending two tug boats, a fireboat and a 32-meter Vosper patrol boat out to render assistance.
The captain of the cruise ship had already increased his speed to the limit of his ability. His ship was now making 15 knots and would be in the harbor inside 40 minutes.
There were five large military smoke generators aft producing a thick white smoke. This was augmented by a mound of burning tires on the deck to produce black smoke. The tires were concealed by a false deck of sheet metal to prevent easy observation by aircraft of the true nature of the fire. To cap off the deception, on board, there weren’t 2,300 scared civilian passengers. Instead, 10,000 heavily armed troops of the PLA’s 37th Infantry Division assigned to the 12th Group Army from the Nanjing Military Region were crammed inside.
* * *
The exercise to take the port and airport of Kaohsiung was going so well that Colonel Flint realized he hadn’t thought about the fiasco on East Timor for at least a couple of hours. A new record, he thought sourly.
