China Attacks

by Chuck DeVore

  The boat shuddered twice more with the last two torpedoes.

  “Sir, there’s two torpedoes in the water heading our way. Both from the same vicinity. I still hear nothing else. Pinging! One of the torpedoes is pinging for us! Pinging. We have two pinging for us!” The tactical officer was pressing the earphone so hard into his ear it looked as if he was going to crush the side of his head.

  He resisted the urge to run. To order flank speed and make the noise that would make the enemy’s task of finding him and killing him that much easier. “Helm, all stop! Cut the power and drift to the bottom. We’ll hide in the mud.”

  The tactical officer spoke, this time more calmly, “Sir, the torpedoes appear to be heading towards the decoys. Our torpedoes should start pinging soon.”

  “Any read on what fired those torpedoes?” He almost wished it was one of the Kilos.

  “No sir. We can hear nothing out there.” The tactical officer sounded sorry. “Our torpedoes are searching! I hear the pings.”

  Maybe they’d get away this time, the Captain thought. Six shots off! Or, maybe we’ve landed the first blow to connect with the enemy in a long, long time. . .

  “One of the inbounds has gone to continuous ping. It’s at 300 meters and closing!” The tactical officer was pleading with his captain, his eyes betraying fear.

  “What’s the status of our torpedoes?” The Captain wanted his quarry.

  “Still in search mode.”

  “Drop four decoys! Hard right rudder, all ahead flank! Get to periscope depth. Come on, move it!” His only hope lay in rising rapidly to the layer of warmer and fresher surface water. Perhaps then the torpedo’s sonar return would be deflected or distorted enough that they could break its lock.

  “It’s closing. 100 meters, sir.” The tactical officer was pale and quiet now, resigned to his fate.

  Well, that was a quick war. The enemy torpedo struck aft. Its explosion shattered the boat’s hull. The pressure of 150 feet of water did the rest. There were no survivors.

  * * *

  The hijacked Il-76 combi jet (passenger and cargo) had touched down at 8:00 AM. The senior controller ordered the aircraft to proceed to the end of the runway (where the hijackers would either give up or be killed by the special security police).

  The senior controller’s headache wasn’t any better. This flu was bad – might as well be at work. He felt too sick to enjoy the nice day. There was only a high cloud cover and it wasn’t supposed to rain for at least a day—or until that typhoon east of the Philippines started to affect the weather with increased humidity and scattered thunderstorms. The high was forecast at 88 degrees. Nice summer day. The pain in his skull brought him back to focus on work.

  He radioed the hijacked aircraft. No reply. He had five flights stacked up waiting for approval to land. Better send them to CKS, this may take awhile. He had no need to tell security; they were already monitoring his communications with the aircraft.

  The senior controller folded his hands behind his head and arched his back, looking out the top of the control tower window at the northern sky. He saw a flash. Simultaneously the control tower erupted in a bang as every radio spit sparks and the acrid smoke of burning wire insulation filled the air. “What the. . .? Get the fire extinguishers!”

  The tower personnel were too busy to observe the Il-76. The aircraft rippled with small puffs of smoke. Fifty to one hundred yards away, small canisters began spewing smoke. A dozen grenade launchers had been attached to the aircraft. These devices, usually bolted to armored vehicles to quickly dispense smoke grenades in combat, were being employed instead to conduct a preemptive strike on the surrounding security forces. Some canisters held tear gas, others, the same agent used at almost the same instant some 20 miles to the west at CKS International Airport.

  The leader of this commando team, a major, wanted to use non-persistent nerve agent in his assault. His request was vetoed by Beijing. First, Beijing wanted moral high ground of claiming (truthfully) that no lethal nuclear or chemical agents were used in its attack. Second, tear gas worked instantly, nerve agent took a few minutes. The commandos intended to be gone before anyone could react—they certainly didn’t have the time to be waiting around in chemical protective gear until the last policeman finished convulsing and died.

  The cargo ramp at the rear of the Il-76 rapidly lowered. The surprised security police were scrambling to get their protective masks on. Some weren’t equipped and were already choking on their own mucus, violently retching and trying to get air. The ones lucky enough to get their masks on quickly had to blink back tears and could barely see to fire on the three armored cars that came racing out of the Il-76.

  One security officer had only just arrived on the scene riding his motorcycle, an old, but reliable Yamaha. He stayed upwind from the spraying canisters and was soon shocked to see three Taiwanese LAV-150 Commando armored vehicles rolling down the aircraft’s ramp. What were these ROC Army vehicles doing in this “hijacked” aircraft? He tried to call base with the news. He didn’t know that the circuit boards in his state-of-the-art hand-held radio were destroyed by the high-altitude E-bomb attack.

  Inside the second armored car, the major was quietly confident that all would go as planned. He was sure he could complete his mission. All he had to do was lead his team from Sungshan Airport downtown only 7.8 kilometers to the Presidential Building where they would arrest the so-called President of the Republic of China on Taiwan—or kill him while trying.

  The mission would be made all the easier by the E-bomb attack, which the planners told him, would destroy the enemy’s ability to communicate. Finally, conducting the raid using Taiwanese-type vehicles (quietly purchased from the Sudan, then refurbished) would only add to the surprise and confusion. No one at all would know 39 soldiers of the PLA, dressed in ROC Army uniforms, were coming.

  The major followed the lead car just after it rammed down the airport’s cyclone fence. The nimble four-wheeled 9.8-ton armored car had a 202 hp V-8 diesel with a top speed of 55 mph—perfect for city driving. The small convoy turned onto Pingchaing Road in the light industrial district just north of the airport. It was 8:10 AM. There was only one moving car on this street. There were two other cars stalled in the middle of the street with their hoods open and their owners fretting over the engines. The major was glad most workers were already at their Saturday morning jobs.

  Free from the area of chemical attack, the commandos removed their protective masks, greatly improving their ability to see and communicate. This would also lessen public suspicion.

  The convoy turned south and ground to a halt. Traffic at the intersection was completely tangled. The light was out and there was a fender-bender between two old cars and a rusty truck. The commando team leader ordered his vehicles to push ahead on the sidewalk. Several cars were edged aside in the process. The cross street, Mintsu East Road was bumper-to-bumper. This was not in the plan!

  The lead armored car nosed its way through the stalled traffic, clearing a way. The major curiously noticed that almost every car’s driver was out and most cars had their hoods up.

  The front bumper of a new Mercedes was snagged by the armored car and torn off. The wealthy businessman who owned the car was trying to get a dial tone on a nearby public phone (his cell phone ceased working) when he saw his car being wrecked by the military. That a lowly member of the Army had the gall to damage his car! The owner bolted out of the phone booth and ran over to his car as the second armored vehicle was ready to squeeze through. The businessman was dissuaded from further complaint when the commando major pointed the roof-mounted 20mm machine gun at the Mercedes owner’s chest.

  The team edged on through the city, making far slower progress than originally anticipated. The commander knew he had only 15 minutes remaining before they’d have to put their masks back on and button-up or be themselves incapacitated by a massive chemical attack.

  Back at the airport, the junior security officer grasped the sign
ificance of the vehicles that roared out of the Il-76, breached the airport fence and disappeared into the city. He yelled at three of his colleagues who were upwind from the chemical attack. “You men! Come with me!” In the confusion, the men were relieved to follow someone who had a plan. He rapidly told them of the impending danger.

  “We need to warn the authorities as fast as possible. With three vehicles they can attack at least three facilities. Certainly, the President will be one of their targets. Who else?”

  One of the security officers reflected, “Certainly not the police station. They’re too heavily armed. What about City Hall?”

  “Yes, excellent! The President and City Hall, who else?”

  “The National Assembly?” asked another.

  The lieutenant grew impatient, “No, they’re not in session and besides, there’s too many of them to kill them all. Look, we’re wasting time now. We’re agreed that City Hall and the President’s house are the two prime targets. I’ll get on my motorcycle and drive to warn the President.” He then pointed rapidly at each of the three men, “You get to City Hall. You get up to the Army barracks at Neihu and tell them the capital is under assault. You, find a different vehicle and get to the President’s house too. Between the both of us, one of us might make it before that assassination squad does! Let’s go!”

  The lieutenant ran to his bike and kick started the engine to life. He noticed that the other three security officers were having problems getting any vehicles to start. He shouted encouragement at them as rumbled by, “Keep trying, some of them have to work!”

  The E-bomb’s powerful wave of energy acted in two general ways: first, it produced a high voltage spike which directly damaged most commercial computer devices by breaking down their delicate Metal Oxide Semiconductor components; second, the energy wave was picked up by any receiver, whether an antenna or a simple power line, and transmitted directly to any attached device. This second mode of electronic attack was similar to sending a huge bolt of lightning down every antenna and wire in the city. Not only was the power grid destroyed, but most every computer chip was fried as well. The effect on any vehicle built in the 1980s or later was devastating. Most simply quit running at the instant of the attack.

  The PLA major was getting frustrated. The streets were clogged with disabled cars, he was only halfway to his objective, and he was running out of time. It was 8:15 AM. He now had ten minutes remaining before his life was about to get much more complicated. The commandos turned south on Chengteh Road. The road was completely blocked and the sidewalks were too cluttered with vendor’s stands and people to move through. Only four kilometers to go.

  He decided to go on foot. He left a driver and vehicle commander/ machine-gunner in each LAV-150 and set out with 32 of his remaining team. At a jog they could cover at least two kilometers before the missiles rained down on key parts of the city. After that, with their masks on, he hoped they could make it to their objective before the chemical agent started to penetrate their unprotected skin.

  The major gave the sign to abandon the vehicles. He knew the crews he left behind would do everything they could to catch up to his team at the Presidential Building. On each vehicle three crew hatches opened, one on each side and one in the rear. From each armored car 11 men quietly assembled on the sidewalk, purposefully not taking up defensive positions nor looking threatening. Within 15 seconds they set off to the south at a fast jog, leaving the vehicle crews to figure out how to maneuver through the worst traffic jam in Taipei’s history.

  The lieutenant was almost to the Presidential Building. From the airport he decided to take the Chienkuo flyover south to the Jenai Road exit. He weaved expertly between the masses of broken down cars. This was a very puzzling situation and it most certainly did not bode well for the young democracy he owed allegiance to.

  The young officer pulled up to the Presidential complex and was almost shot by the ring of anxious presidential guards stationed outside the main building. “I’m a special airport security officer!” he yelled, hopping off his motorcycle and letting it tip over on the sidewalk, “The President is in danger! An assassination team from China is heading this way in armored vehicles!”

  By the time he finished his sentence, three presidential guards had tackled him, taken his pistol and pinned him painfully to the ground with their knees on his back and neck. “Please,” he rasped, “I must speak with the officer in charge!” He felt his wallet being taken from his back pocket, “Yes, check my identification. I must speak to someone in charge.”

  He was handcuffed and four guards bodily carried him into a side entrance, down a hall and into a small command post. A colonel glared at him, “Speak immediately! I don’t have time for this!”

  The lieutenant took a deep breath and tried to tell his story as quickly and convincingly as possible.

  “When did the armored vehicles leave the airport?” the colonel demanded.

  “About ten to 15 minutes ago, I guess.” the lieutenant glanced at his digital watch. “I’m not sure, my watch seems to be broken, perhaps by the fall I took outside when your guards tackled me.”

  “A reasonable precaution when dealing with an armed madman near the President’s office, don’t you think?” The colonel glared.

  The lieutenant blushed, “Yes sir. One of my fellow security officers should be arriving shortly, please don’t shoot him. Is the President safe?”

  The colonel softened, “As soon as the power failed and the phones went down we moved the President to a safe location.”

  A chilling thought hit the young security officer, “Sir, the men at the airport used tear gas on us. The cars stranded all over town suggest a full-scale attack of some kind is on. Do you think the Mainlanders could have detonated a nuclear bomb nearby? Maybe at Keelung to aid an amphibious assault? Sir, does the Presidential Building have protection against chemical attack?”

  “That is classified information Lieutenant.” The colonel’s reply was defensive.

  The commando major glanced at his wind-up watch. “Platoon, halt! Get your protective masks on! Put your gloves on too!” His men had leather gloves, not rubber ones, and no suits. When the chemical strike came he figured they’d have at most an hour of functionality before being overcome. They could do a lot of damage in an hour. With the mask over his sweating face his lungs labored to get enough oxygen to function. Each inhalation was a struggle. They trained and trained for this, even running three times a week for five kilometers in their protective masks. It still didn’t make it easy or enjoyable.

  The commandos began jogging down the street again, this time slower and to the fear and amazement of the residents of Taipei. A police officer even gestured for them to stop, but the major simply gave him a friendly wave and ran on, leaving the lawman to wonder who that masked man was.

  Two minutes after masking up, he heard something that sounded like a giant piece of fabric ripping in the sky. Moments later he saw a few canisters fall to earth trailing streamers. Each canister sprayed a fine mist. As long as his men didn’t come into direct contact with that spray, their masks should be able to protect them—or so the mission planners maintained.

  Each canister held about 225 grams of militarized d-lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD). Each rocket warhead held 1,500 canisters. One rocket filled with the tremendously potent drug could theoretically incapacitate the entire city for at least 12 hours—the Chinese fired a dozen.

  The major’s team made it to the serene beauty of New Park in the city center only four blocks from Chieh Shou Hall, the Presidential Building. Several canisters were visible in the park. Fearing the worst, pedestrians naturally tried to escape the spreading fumes. The PLA officer decided to make the assault without the support of the armored vehicles and without waiting for the effects of the agent to take hold.

  He and his men had drilled non-stop for two months on the plans of the Presidential Building. They knew exactly where the President’s command bunker was. They also f
elt fairly confident that he’d be inside. Once they captured the President they planned to take him to the roof of the building where a helicopter would whisk them away to either the harbor at Keelung or to the expanding air head at CKS International Airport, whichever was the most secure location. From there, the former leader of Taiwan would be taken to China for a show trial to convict him of treason.

  The major led his men at a greatly reduced pace. He wanted them to catch their breaths as best they could with the masks on. They each downed a half-liter of water as well by hooking up the small flexible drinking tube on their masks to a canteen so they were able to refresh themselves without risking contamination. He also wanted to begin to exercise caution as he approached the heavily protected Presidential Building. Normally, the building was protected by about 25 uniformed police and 100 military members of the Presidential Guard. He estimated that no more than 20 would be covering the external entrance of any given side, and these would, by requirement, be outside of the building. An additional 20-30 might be inside the building. He expected that at no time would he have less than one-to-one odds on the defenders. Add to that surprise, superior equipment (including the latest British body armor) and training, and the PLA commandos had a high degree of confidence they’d accomplish their mission.

  With his men now rejuvenated and ready to go, he moved out of the relatively open killing zone of the park and west onto Chiehshou Road. He sent his first squad across the car-strewn and now abandoned street and was about to send a second when a withering crossfire from the east and west cut down five of his men. Tossing smoke grenades left and right, his commandos created a curtain of concealment and weaved in and out of cars to avoid the hidden scythe of the machine guns. The smoke did little to conceal the snipers on the roofs above, however, and soon half his men were down. The remainder the men with no or only minor injuries pressed the attack across the street (the seriously wounded men were trained to die in place, keeping up as much supporting fire as possible).