Chapter 55
A solid-looking man in his fifties wearing a green flight suit covered in squadron patches stood in front of a large whiteboard in the rear corner of the cavernous, dimly lit hangar. Sitting rigidly in front of him, as if at attention, were two rows of younger men in similar clothing.
The older man was addressed by this group as the flight leader.
He was the ranking member of the Yellow Tigers, a faction that had sworn to defend Taiwan’s freedom to the end.
They were considered a terrorist group within their own country, having been responsible for intimidation, sabotage, and assassinations of several politicians whom they considered complicit with the Chinese Communist Party.
Despite their outlaw nature, they maintained a sort of mythical status among many of the island’s residents.
Guardians of the flame. Warriors of the last hope.
Some members of the government, the military, and even the civilian security forces were sympathetic to their organization.
The flight leader himself had once been a colonel in the Taiwanese air force.
The men sitting in front of him had been selected from among hundreds of recruits. They were the most intense and loyal of the Yellow Tigers.
Two pilots sat in the front row. Each of them roughly around forty years of age. The flight leader had known these men during his time in the military and had recruited them personally. They were lifelong patriots and former captains in their own right.
The rest of the group was younger. Made up of brash, idealistic men in their twenties hardened by the desire to keep their island nation free, tortured by the constant insistence from China that this singular desire would soon be destroyed.
They marked their bodies with tattoos including various symbols of freedom.
They saluted and took their name from an old flag, which sported a stylized yellow tiger prowling on a blue background, which represented the sea.
The flag had been flown during the brief existence of the Republic of Formosa before it became Taiwan.
These choices were the equivalent of burning their ships as they reached the shore.
If the Chinese ever did take the island, these markings and possessions would lead to imprisonment or execution.
It made things simple for these men. They would prevail and keep their country free or die trying, but they would never surrender.
Until recently, the group had only limited weapons, ones that would be of little use in a major battle.
But thanks to Ahab they now had something more.
A chance to strike first, to strike hard, and—if everything worked out right—a way to bring the United States into the war, by making China strike back against them.
“Can we quantify the American losses?” one of the pilots asked in response to the flight leader’s ominous proclamation.
“The initial Chinese counter will almost certainly target the American aircraft carrier and its battle group that will begin sailing through the Taiwan Strait this morning. Chinese losses will be significant, but ultimately most of the American ships will be destroyed.”
It pained the flight leader to bring death and destruction on men and women he would have otherwise considered allies.
But American resolve to defend Taiwan was faltering.
It had waned considerably over the years and at this point there was no guarantee that America would commit its most valuable assets to the battle, nor risk a Third World War to defend a tiny island on the other side of the world.
But…if American lives were lost first…If an American aircraft carrier was destroyed by the Chinese…
“Are we sure the Americans will respond in force?” one of the men asked.
Anything could go wrong, the flight leader thought, but there was no nation on earth that responded to naked aggression the way America did.
From the Alamo, to Pearl Harbor, to the events of September 11, the American reaction to a surprise attack had always been mass destruction to its enemies wherever they hid in the world.
If the Yellow Tigers met with success, that fire would be stoked to a raging inferno and pointed directly at the mainland Chinese.
“They will come with fire and brimstone,” he assured his men quietly.
“But we must make the Chinese sting them first.”
The group nodded in unison. Though it was the first they were hearing of the audacious plan, which had been kept hidden for obvious reasons, they understood it implicitly.
Stepping back to the board, the flight leader flipped it over to reveal the battle plan. A chart depicted Taiwan, the coast of mainland China, and the narrow strait in between. Target areas had been marked with coordinates beside them.
“The United States began a series of training exercises over and around our island yesterday,” he began.
“Those exercises will continue this morning and throughout the day. These war games are being handled in conjunction with our military and some units of the Japanese Self-Defense Force. In addition to the carrier battle group sailing through the Strait, there will be a hundred and twenty American aircraft in the sky. This collection of military force has obviously gained the attention of the Chinese, who are watching very closely. They will have their own aircraft flying and their own military on high alert. Into this powder keg we will toss a lit match.”
Turning to the whiteboard, he pointed to various markings. The first was a bright red line that went north from Siabat Island into the strait and then turned toward the Chinese coast.
“Ahab and Saber One will travel to this point,” he said, tapping a spot on the map.
“At the first waypoint they will shoot down an American airborne tanker, take its place by using stolen transponder codes, and begin to create confusion. The changeover won’t be seamless, and before long, the Americans will send fighters to investigate.
Saber One will eliminate the approaching jets selectively and then turn for China.
“Not all things can be accounted for,” he admitted, “but we have every reason to believe the Americans will scramble more aircraft in an attempt to intercept Saber One before it reaches Chinese airspace.
The Chinese high command will be watching this on radar.
To them it will appear as if Saber One is leading an American attack force directly for their shore.
They will send up their own fighters to meet and intercept this approaching force.
But the Chinese fighters will get no closer than the American jets did.
Saber One will sweep them from the sky, an act that will only confirm to them that the Americans are attempting a massive airborne strike.
“As radio messages demanding answers fly back and forth, Saber One will turn north toward Shanghai, where the Chinese version of Air Force One should be found approaching the city. Saber One will lock onto it and knock it out of the sky at maximum range, killing the Chinese premier and a significant number of his staff.”
“Won’t the premier’s aircraft turn back for Beijing as soon as the attack commences?” one of the men asked.
“Impossible to say,” the flight leader admitted.
“They’ll be more than two hundred and fifty miles from the combat zone as they approach—more than three times the distance any American missile can cover.
With good reason to believe they’re outside lethal range, they may proceed to the nearest military base.
Or they might wisely turn back toward Beijing.
In which case they will most likely go at high altitude and maximum speed, preferring to get as far away from the danger as quickly as possible.
In either case they will make a good target.
At thirty-five thousand feet, Saber One can hit them at a range of three hundred miles.
They will strike the premier’s aircraft down before anyone knows what has happened. ”
The men in the group nodded approvingly.
They believed the Chinese premier was planning to declare war against their country.
An invasion would follow weeks of bombing and drone attacks in which thousands of their fellow citizens, family members, and friends would be killed.
The idea of taking out the Chinese leadership before it could strike first filled them with a sense of justice.
But that was Saber One’s job. The men in this group had another task.
The flight leader explained this: “While Saber One tracks toward Shanghai, we will be in the C-141 Starlifter, denoted as Saber Two. Saber One will clear a path for us until we reach this point.” He tapped the chart a second time, indicating another waypoint that was no more than ten miles off the Chinese coast, well within their territorial airspace.
“Our target is the new military control hub on Langqi Island in Fujian. Much of the PLA’s high command will be gathered there to watch the American war games from afar.
As soon as we’re in range, the payload crew will open the aft door and begin deploying the missiles.
They’re programmed to open their wings upon attaining free fall.
They will then glide down to an altitude of three hundred feet and ignite their boosters.
Once active, they will self-guide to the targets, obliterating the command center with most of the Communist Party’s generals and admirals inside. ”
“What’s our final weapons count?” one of the crewmen asked.
“You’ll be loading twenty-one missiles,” the flight leader said. “Unfortunately, three of the weapons have failed prelaunch testing.”
“Twenty-one cruise missiles hitting one target ought to get their attention,” another crewman suggested.
The flight leader ignored the commentary and kept going.
“All of this is a means to an end. It is secondary to the main objective. We must convince the Chinese that the Americans have made this preemptive attack. You will use only American-style English during your radio communications. You have been issued falsified American military documents and identifications. You will keep them on your person and discard your own. We hope, of course, to survive and return in order to continue the fight, but if we’re shot down or captured, the ruse must be maintained until the end. ”
“What’s our escape route?” one of the pilots asked. Even those on a suicide mission needed some hope of survival.
The flight leader acknowledged the question. “Once the missiles have been launched, we will turn directly toward Kadena Air Base in Okinawa. This will confirm for the Chinese that the Americans are behind the attack.”
“The Chinese will come after us?” the pilot asked.
“They will,” the flight leader told him.
“Saber One will attempt to cover your retreat, but will itself be moving toward a position of safety. When you reach international waters, set the autopilot, arm the self-destruct switch, and bail out through the aft door. Rescue will be attempted, though it cannot be guaranteed.”
The group turned sober and quiet, contemplating the likely end of this mission.
When they’d been quiet long enough, the flight leader snapped them back to attention. “Yellow Tigers!” he shouted. “This is your moment. Freedom for Taiwan! Freedom forever!”
“Yellow Tigers!” the men shouted in unison. “Freedom forever!”
Several rounds of call-and-response followed before the quiet finally returned.
The flight leader looked at his watch. “Go make peace with whatever god you believe in,” he suggested. “Do it quickly. Saber One is nearly ready for takeoff. We’ll be following as soon as the missiles are loaded.”