China Attacks

by Chuck DeVore

  Since the Communist Chinese began their latest series of provocations a few months ago, Taipei had seen fit to send another division of infantry to add to the four that were regularly stationed on the Quemoy Island group. In addition, military intelligence now had it from a reliable source that the PLA might actually try to invade within the next 48 hours!

  General Mao was absolutely confident that his troops could beat back any invader. He had the most extensive series of bunkers and fortifications with interlocking fields of fire that 50 years of preparation could imagine. He had ammunition, food and water enough to last six months. And he had right on his side. He knew he was fighting for freedom.

  He surveyed the situation map. Across the bay at Amoy he saw the 85th Infantry Division, still in the position it had traditionally occupied for the last several years. In addition, intelligence had picked up indicators that elements of two divisions from the 11th Group Army, the 71st and 73rd, had moved from their stations inland and were now in the vicinity of Amoy. These forces, combined with the Chinese forces around Fuzhou to the north, could achieve local superiority against Quemoy—assuming they were supported by the PLAAF and a massive amount of accurate artillery.

  A phone rang in the command bunker, the signalman made a note in the staff journal and handed the phone to General Mao.

  “General Mao speaking.”

  “General Mao, this is Admiral Tin, we have indications that a sizable PLAN amphibious task force is headed your way. They were heading southeast just outside our territorial waters and are now swinging to the northeast. We estimate that they’ll violate our waters in two to three minutes. We have a task force observing them but we cannot guarantee that we will sink every last ship if it comes to a fight.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No general, the force is estimated to be capable of carrying approximately 7,000 troops and 150 tanks. We are also seeing a large massing of fishing boats to your west in Amoy Bay.”

  “Thank you for the information, we’ll be ready. Tell the sailors to leave some of the Communists dry so we can have our turn too.” General Mao revealed a toothy, tea-stained grin. So, this was probably the culmination of months of Communist bluster and rehearsal. They had already practiced invading his five-mile long island four times since last February. Each time, the amphibious force got larger and closer to his beach defenses. Each time, they turned back. Now, with the report from intelligence, it looked like this might be the time.

  The general turned to his Operations Officer. “We may finally have some unpleasant company. Order the men to increase their chemical weapons protective posture to level four (this put all men not in bunkers with overpressure filtration systems into their chemical suits with gloves and masks on). Alert all personnel, I want 100% manning at all posts.” Thankfully, the mysterious flu from Taiwan hadn’t hit Quemoy, probably because an infected person hadn’t flown to the islands yet.

  The speaker box attached to tactical landline network squawked to life, “This is Counter battery Station Four, we’re picking up inbound artillery and rocket fire. Estimated impact time: 15 seconds. Impact area: island-wide. This is huge! They must be firing ten battalions on us!”

  Already, the counter battery radars had sent their data to the computers that calculated the estimated point of impact as well as the estimated location of the firing battery. If any firing battery was within range, General Mao had given standing orders to shoot back. Unfortunately, all the attacking rocket artillery was out of range. There were some tube artillery within range, though, and General Mao felt the satisfying vibrations of outgoing artillery just seconds before the incoming rounds burst on his little island.

  The artillery fell so fast and hard it sounded like the roar of a storm and an earthquake even though the bunker was buried 30 feet down. “Give me Taipei before our comm links get cut!”

  Within seconds, the signal corpsman handed him a phone. He had raised Army Command in Taipei. “This is Brigadier General Mao on Hsiao Quemoy. We are under heavy bombardment. We are returning counter battery fire. We are preparing to receive an enemy amphibious assault.”

  “Understood, stand-by, General Ming wants to. . .” In a loud crack of static, the line went dead.

  General Mao was now left alone to face what he was sure was the first Chinese landing attempt on Nationalist soil since 1949.

  21

  War

  Two Chinese M-11 missiles roared skyward from two launch sites in coastal China. One flew in the direction of northern Taiwan, the other, the southern half of the island.

  Taiwan’s missile defense network picked up the incoming missiles three minutes after launch and a few seconds later they determined the launch points and the aim points. Taiwan’s air defense officers were pleased to see that the missiles would impact into the Pacific Ocean well to the east of Taiwan. Clearly, these missiles were intended to intimidate, not damage, just like the Chinese missiles fired into the sea in March 1996. The officers ordered the Patriot surface-to-air missile batteries to a state of alert and passed word of the Chinese launch up the chain of command to the civilian authorities.

  In the space of two milliseconds, the People’s Republic of China had tied the previous record for the use of atomic weaponry in combat set by the United States in 1945. Then, as now, the nuclear bombs were used against nations that held no countervailing deterrent.

  Unlike the crude bombs used over Japan, however, these bombs were not designed to kill people, vaporize military equipment or crush buildings. These bombs, painstakingly built from plans stolen from America ten years before, were specifically designed to minimize the three traditional destructive components of atomic weapons: thermal energy, blast, and radiation. Instead, these weapons produced a highly concentrated and extremely brief pulse of electro-magnetic energy. This electro-magnetic pulse (EMP) effect didn’t even interest the original users of the A-bomb in 1945. But, in 21st Century, the effects of an EMP burst would prove devastating to a modern society, its military machine, and, most importantly, its national command authority.

  Using the highly accurate time signal from the U.S. Global Positioning System (GPS) satellites, the warheads were set to go off within milliseconds of each other at an altitude of 100 miles to deliver a crippling blow to the electronics below for a diameter of 200 miles.

  The bombs were extremely specialized, but not especially complex nuclear ordnance. Their nuclear efficiency wasn’t very high—when detonating, they left a fair amount of nuclear fuel unburned. The bombs worked on a simple principle: convert the energy of a nuclear explosion into a highly focused unidirectional cone of electromagnetic energy.

  A standard nuclear bomb is composed of a sphere of conventional explosives encircling the nuclear material. The explosives are carefully designed to rapidly compress the fissionable material into a dense critical mass to trigger a self-sustaining and explosive nuclear chain reaction.

  The nuclear-driven E-bomb was different; it had an atypical arrangement of explosive lenses encircling its fissionable material—much like an upside-down fluted glass. The explosive part of the bomb was itself surrounded by two coils of an alloy of platinum and depleted uranium. Each coil was embedded within a non-conductive composite ceramic and Kevlar epoxy case, itself within a tube of super hardened steel.

  The bomb’s detonation cycle began with a sudden electrical current surging through the coils from a capacitor. At the peak of electrical discharge and concurrent magnetic energy generated by the coils, the bomb began its detonation. Explosives at the closed end of the upside-down glass started to compress the Uranium 235, beginning a chain reaction. Within nanoseconds, the explosive ring fired downward, sending a shock wave of compression into the fissionable material just ahead of the spreading nuclear reaction. The material was held in place long enough (a few nanoseconds) by the plate at the bottom, so that it did not fly apart until it had accomplished its purpose.

  This carefully timed directional nuclear blast mult
iplied the electrical and magnetic forces in the surrounding coils 10,000 times over, creating what engineers call an explosively pumped flux compression generator. Each coil was tuned to produce a desired frequency to maximize destruction of the intended target systems. The resulting electromagnetic shock wave raced downward in a focused cone, destroying most things electrical in its path.

  The damage inflicted by the nuclear driven E-bombs was similar to the damage from a nearby lightning strike. Commercial computers, aircraft avionics, the civilian electrical grid and especially anything connected to an antenna were damaged. Interestingly, many transmitters, especially radars, continued to operate; however, without a functional radar receiver or computer to display the information, the transmitter was useless.

  To protect their own systems, the Chinese had taken simple precautions. They were highly confident the E-bombs would perform as the engineers and scientists said they would, only producing a cone of electronic destruction aimed at Taiwan. Just in case, however, military electronics were turned off just before the detonation. Batteries were disconnected from devices. Antennas were disconnected as well. Radios and computers were wrapped in aluminum foil. Submarines stayed submerged.

  Ironically, old, vacuum tube-based electronics were relatively immune to the effects of EMP. Thus, many of the older Chinese military systems were hardened to EMP by virtue of their “obsolete” design even as the newer commercial hardware they often interfaced with, such as GPS navigation modules, were not.

  To minimize any potential damage to the civilian infrastructure, the power grid for southeast China was blacked out five minutes before the detonations. The energy from the blasts was tightly focused. There was no collateral damage to Mainland China.

  A few civil aircraft, both Chinese and foreign, inadvertently fell victim as well. These were counted as regrettable and unavoidable losses of war. To be safe, key officials were kept out of aircraft near the danger zone.

  Chinese policy planners had pondered long and hard about engaging in what some thought amounted to nuclear war. They decided that the United States would not respond for three reasons—first, the E-bombs would produce no direct civilian casualties; second, Chinese ICBMs and its one nuclear missile submarine could threaten American cities; and third, there would probably be no damage to U.S. military forces, especially its space assets. Regarding the latter, the Chinese knew that most U.S. military satellites were carefully hardened against EMP. If the E-bombs focused their energy downward, with any luck, the U.S. would lose no major systems and would therefore have no grounds for complaint or immediate concern.

  Japan and South Korea would, of course, view the use of nuclear weapons with alarm, but, Chinese planners had taken this into account as well. If the U.S. could be shown to be powerless to stop a Chinese takeover of Taiwan, the strategists were confident that, within a year, East Asia would be under the protective umbrella of Chinese military might. There was simply nothing any other nation could do to stop it.

  * * *

  As suddenly as it began, the Mainlander onslaught passed. Brigadier General Mao was puzzled. He ordered the signalman to do a radio net call and assess his troops’ condition. All radios were silent; not even static. He noticed the bunker’s emergency lights were on. Not surprising, the barrage probably cut the power lines. He ordered the landlines used—he had assumed the intense barrage would have severed some of the lines. To his surprise, all of the stations reported, save one.

  The brigade intelligence officer had been working on the situation simultaneously and walked up to his commanding officer to brief him on what he knew, “Sir, I have some information.”

  “Please, major, proceed.” The general was heartened that they had absorbed the enemy’s first blow and were still functioning with military efficiency.

  “Sir, the bombardment of our positions lasted only five minutes, although, I must admit, it was a robust bombardment. Initial estimates are that ten battalions of rocket and tube artillery participated in the attack. We were able to contact Quemoy via our underwater cable link. They are fine. No bombardment. They have lost contact with our naval elements in the vicinity, however. Sir, one more thing: Quemoy HQ can’t raise Taipei on the radio. In fact, they can’t hear anything on their radios.”

  One of the signalmen, looking very nervous, interrupted, “Sirs, I believe all of our radio receiver circuits have been burned out.”

  “What?” Both the general and the major asked in unison.

  Looking more comfortable, the signalman continued, “Sirs, it’s as if all our topside antennas got hit by lightning.”

  The major’s stomach went more queasy then it did in the middle of the barrage, “General, sir, I believe I know what happened. The Communists have exploded a nuclear bomb somewhere nearby. The bomb’s electro-magnetic pulse has destroyed all non-protected electronic equipment. We have been sheltered because we are buried, but our radios have a direct electrical link with the outside world through their antennas. The land lines work because they’re buried.”

  “Send out a nuclear and chemical reconnaissance team. I want to know what happened.” Turning to his operations officer, the general said, “Colonel, keep the men on full alert for at least the next four hours, then begin a 16 hours on, eight hours off schedule for everyone. We may be here for a while.”

  * * *

  Fu Zemin could hardly believe the orders he had just read and was busy destroying with a bottle of mineral water. Taiwan itself was being invaded! Not the insignificant island of Quemoy! My recommendation was accepted! He only had seconds to wonder why he was sent here to watch over Admiral Wong and the Quemoy invasion preparations. Fu was being ordered to fly to Taiwan with elements of the 85th Infantry Division and be the Party’s official representative on the island until relieved! He could hardly believe his luck!

  He wished he could tell someone, then he thought of how he was getting to Taiwan—with elements of the 85th Infantry Division. The military. War. Danger. He remembered how he hated personal privations. How he avoided military service through his father’s Party connections. Still, how dangerous could it be if the Party chieftains were willing to send him, a highly placed and very knowledgeable Party foreign affairs advisor, to Taiwan?

  He speculated on whether the Party had accepted the rest of his memo—his recommendation to follow-up the reunification of Taiwan with a campaign to conquer East Asia before an anti-China grouping of states could contain China’s rightful ambitions.

  He smiled. He was a hero of China. He himself might even rule Asia some day.

  * * *

  The 747-400 had just touched down at Chiang Kai-Shek International Airport—just another Chinese flight from Hong Kong as far as anyone outside of the aircraft was concerned—routine business travel.

  The aircraft was taxiing towards the terminal when all its electrical systems went dead. The aircraft’s engines flamed out and it slowly came to a halt just shy of the terminal. Normally this would have greatly concerned the tower, but they had larger troubles to worry about. Just a few minutes before the understaffed tower (40% of the air traffic controllers were on sick call) received a report about a large force of Mainland jet aircraft approaching Taiwan. They were to clear the skies of civil aviation, vectoring them away from the potential areas of confrontation. As they were redirecting aircraft all of their radio equipment popped and began smoking, the terminal and approach radars went down, and the power went out. The emergency systems failed to kick in. The tower was dead.

  The controllers were flabbergasted. For a space of five seconds—an eternity in air traffic control—the tower was completely silent. The chief controller finally spoke, “Did we get a lightning strike? I didn’t hear any thunder. You there, Ju, go down the tower and check for external damage, maybe we were hit by something. Lin, call Taipei control and tell them we’re out of business. What the? Flight 557 from Hong Kong, the 747, it looks like it’s in trouble!”

  The senior controller poin
ted down to the 747 at the far end of the terminal. Steam seemed to be billowing out of its now open passenger exits.

  * * *

  Lieutenant Colonel Chu Dugen looked at his watch through his protective mask. He always hated wearing the bulky things, but they worked, and, if one trained in them enough, they weren’t much of a hindrance. The commandos used Israeli protective masks. The wide lenses offered much more peripheral vision than the old goggle-eyed Soviet-era protective masks the PLA used.

  In two more minutes, the 747 would have finished disgorging its supply of the incapacitating agent, a phenothiazine-type compound that affected its victims in a non-lethal fashion, rendering them, in most cases, unable to act upon the information their brains processed. Another two minutes after that and the first missile-delivered incapacitating agent would burst over the airport. If all went according to plan, every armed defender within five kilometers would be rendered passive for half a day or longer, giving the commandos precious time to secure CKS International for the follow-on forces.

  Another minute went by. Dugen hazarded a look out of the passenger window. He saw three airport workers pointing and laughing at the ‘steaming’ 747. Dugen smiled. The agent was taking effect. A fourth worker was simply staring into space, a large fire extinguisher at his side.

  The Chinese attackers had been ingenious in their attack planning. Rather than using only one type of incapacitating agent, the high command decided on three, each with its own advantages.

  The first type, used in areas where direct military contact was expected, such as CKS International Airport, was a compound based on phenothiazine. This drug, easy to deliver in militarily significant doses via air burst bombs or missiles, acted as a depressant on the central nervous system. The people so affected would not have their higher reasoning powers seriously impaired; they would understand their surroundings—they just wouldn’t care about what they saw. They would completely lack any motivation to resist or follow orders. This drug had another advantage: it was easily counteracted with amphetamines. This was key because, if the drug remained in the air in aerosol form or was somehow absorbed into the skin, the attackers would also be subject to its effects within a few hours. Thus, by wearing a protective mask, the attackers could remain immune from the more immediate effects of inhalation and, because the agent’s effects could be reversed, the wearing of a bulky and constraining protective suit could be avoided.