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Year of the Tiger's "Kelly Owen is the naval aviation officer every fellow officer would be proud to know" -- Fred Mokhtari, Professor of Political Science, Near East South Asia Center for Strategic Studies, National Defense University |
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YEAR OF THE TIGER EXCERPT |
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Chronicle of China's Repressive Actions China's Problems with Individual Rights China's Rush to Arm and Proliferation America's Rush to Defend Itself Home Author Book Excerpt History Buy Book Direct Barnes&Noble Amazon
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Download Chapter 1-3 PDF FilePART TWO OF CHAPTER ONE
She pushed the nose down, over compensating, and the aircraft symbol dropped too rapidly. The sudden change startled her. Like a beginner, she began oscillating above and below the glide slope. "Patch in Washington, too. They should all see what’s going on. Ask 'em to contact the Chinese Embassy and find out if there's a declaration of war. We've sunk eleven of their submarines and forty-six of their torpedo boats. Tell 'em we have another sub targeted inside our screen. If they don't want it destroyed, they'd better tell him to surface and surrender. Otherwise, we sink him." Through the rain, she concentrated on three critical parameters: the meatball on the left side of the ship for glide-slope, the centerline of the deck for lineup, and the angle-of-attack indicator in the upper left corner of the instrument panel for airspeed. She had to juggle these parameters to land safely. Every muscle in her body tensed as the deck sped up toward her. Instrument lights in the cockpit were duplicated on the external nose-wheel landing-gear door and clearly visible to the LSOs positioned near the ramp. Orientation of the lights told them whether she was fast, slow, or on speed. Any significant deviation would cause the LSO to trigger the red flashing lights and she would be forced to abort. Taking a deep breath, Kelly concentrated on the deck speeding toward her. Kelly reluctantly followed the yellow-shirt's signals forward, where he was going to spot her hanging over the water. She felt helpless, at the mercy of the yellow-shirt. "Damn, I hate that," she said to herself. Her nose wheel was inches from the edge of the deck. She'd be sitting out over the water as the ship rolled toward those eight-foot waves. * * *
The mushroom cloud of gasoline rapidly expanded, as it appeared to consume everything. The "hot papas," encased in their white-helmeted fireproof suits, moved in from all directions with foam. Greg didn't see how they could survive, let alone subdue the fire. This was no place for him. Turning, he took one giant step to the ladder inside Deck Control that led to the decks below. He headed for the Ready Room to get his Mae West life jacket, in case he had to abandon ship. As Greg turned the corner on the ladder, he took another big step down and caught a "white hat" squarely in the chest with his foot. "I'm sorry about your wingman," Greg said. Kelly just sipped the steaming coffee. He watched her struggle for control. The battle had obviously drained her. A treacherous recovery in foul weather. Now this. "First tour?" "Uh huh. The weather and turbulence were awful; deck tossing, and low ceiling almost down to the white caps. He didn't have enough traps or time in type to handle an instrument approach in weather like that. He was unlucky. If it had been a training exercise, we'd have been recalled before the weather got so bad." Greg groped for words to soften Kelly's grief. But no mere words could do that. "Papa," Kelly said, finally her voice tentative. "You know I'm in the promotion zone for lieutenant commander, possibly selection to command." "I heard that." Greg hoped she could hear his pride reflected in those three words. His granddaughter was already a lieutenant commander. She could go as high as she determined to go. "I'm not sure I want to consider command." What! She doesn't want command? Greg's mouth dropped. It took a moment to compose himself. "Why?" he asked. "Leadership. Papa, I don't know how to lead." "I'm not sure I'm up to this new era of leadership. Or even want to be," Kelly fumed. "How do I cope with vague accusations of ogling, leering, touching? Or how do I handle racial and ethnic slurs? Real or imagined." You're probably the best woman strike pilot, if not the best strike pilot, in the Navy. Why are you so worried about being screened for XO?" "I'm afraid I don't have the aptitude or people skills."
There was another threat they faced that night -- a steely yellow-eyed demon with long, sharp, pearly white teeth that shared the cockpit with every strike pilot. Every yappin frappy nugget had heard about the "night thing" that sucked lift off wings, turned boats backward during the landing approach, and created sinkholes at the back of the boat seconds before the plane came over the ramp for a night trap. The red battle lamps illuminated the deck and the eerie group of ballet dancers. A yellow-shirted plane handler appeared from the wisps of steam blown aft from the catapults to lead a pilot to a parking space. Kelly watched as the reddish-yellow figure swept his lighted wands wildly over his head like some wild island fire dancer. Through the night-vision goggles, Kelly and Curly had moved out of one scene from Dante's Inferno into another. They watched arcs of fire signal the pilot to fold his wings and maneuver his Hornet into a tight space among the rest of the planes. Flick the external light master switch with your left hand. Instantly the Growler was transformed from a dark-gray machine into a glowing red-and-green Christmas tree. The jet strained against the holdback fitting, restraining the two 22,000-pound GE turbofan engines roaring at full power beneath her. Now she'd find out whether the demons were pleased with her. Sheng looked out at the sunset. The whiffs of cirrostratus were ablaze with reds, oranges, and tints of purple. Vibrant greens rimmed the edge of the clouds. The intensity was so great he had to look away. When his glance returned, the sunset's blaze of color had faded to shades of purple. The sky darkened rapidly and he donned his night goggles. Kelly looked down at the empty expanse of ocean that surrounded her, then up at the brilliant display of stars and galaxies. The goggles cast a green pale over the scene. Over land was relaxing, because you always had lighted cities, towns, villages, and highways as a reference. Flying over open ocean with no landfall in sight invited night demons into the cockpit. What if I lose an engine…my instruments…in a rough sea? I'd be agoner if it weren't for two engines. Somewhere in that dark abyss of endless ocean was a carrier they had to find and land on before the fuel ran out. At some point they would have to shift their attention and put their faith into finding that four-and-a-half acres of flight deck that had long since disappeared. Imagine, Kelly thought, I've staked my life on the signal that controls that little arrow on the navigation compass. A close-in encounter was unlikely at night, but anything was possible. If it happened, she wanted to just point her head at the target and fire a Sidewinder. That possibility always gave her a rush. In an over-the-horizon attack, she knew she could count on launching an AMRAAM, no matter what direction the attack came from or what attitude the plane was in. Once she fired an AMRAAM, she could forget about it and turn her attention to the next target. Its sensors would hunt the target down without her help. * * * At thirty-five, Mike was the chief executive officer for the GE appliance manufacturing plant located near GE's large research center in Shanghai. A clean-cut, up-and-coming star in the GE empire, he was well connected among the party's fast-track young executives, not only here on the mainland but in Hong Kong and Taiwan as well, which made him a valuable ally. Wan's principal purpose, however, for cultivating him was to use him to determine how serious the U.S was about defending Taiwan. As Lenin had so aptly said, hang the capitalists with the rope they sell us. "Shi's a hardliner strategist for the party who watches political trends in Taiwan. Shi says Beijing emphasizes blood ties between Taiwan and China. He argues that Taiwan's national identity and drive for self-determination depends on socialization, not blood ties. He thinks education plays the strong roll." "I think going to war over Taiwan is a strategic mistake." Wan raised his eyebrows. "Taiwan's thrust for independence ebbs by the day. Don't you realize there's a mass migration of professionals and investors to the mainland? Where do you think all those people come from that live in Kunshan, outside of Shanghai?" Kunshan was home to 30,000 emigrants from Taiwan, with their own schools, country clubs, and villas. It was the production and research and development base for Taiwan's largest companies. Over a half-million people from Taiwan out of a population of 23 million lived and worked in China. "You're a naive fool, my friend." "The only problem we have is old China is wary of capitalist China." Old China was skeptical of this new breed of young elitists. There was no social safety net for the unemployed or for medical benefits in China, so their welfare had to be taken into account by these brash, young entrepreneurs. The challenges for the joint venture partners were immense. Officials were wary that creative destruction of old China and its inefficient state enterprises would be handled poorly and blamed on them. Labor protests and outrage erupted the same in China as it did anywhere else in the world and the old China bureaucrats feared anything that rocked their boat. Mike looked at Wan. "You remember how we talked about the two things that had to be changed to make a market economy work: state-run enterprises and state-run banks? China's done a good job of opening the state-run enterprises, but I'm afraid China has dragged its feet too long on opening state-run banks to private enterprise." Mike twirled the stem of his brandy glass. "The world banks fear that if you open your banks, they won"t be able to compete and your entire domestic banking industry will collapse." "Nonsense! We'll create the same success opening private banks as we did opening private enterprises. But it will be on our timetable." The Chinese Director of Intelligence sat in the back seat nervously tapping his fingers on the armrest. Wan was tense and upset. It was an elaborate game of chess that he played with the capitalists, full of the complexity that his analytical mind enjoyed. Lure the Westerners into business relationships that seemed rich with potential profit. Seduce them with the prospect of that great, sleeping giant known as China, and entice them with all the opportunities that a market of more than one billion consumers might provide. Then, when the capitalists had sold their souls, the taking of Taiwan would be easier. The greedy pigs would persuade Washington to look the other way when the annexation happened so that their investments would be protected. And, if things went wrong, those same capitalists could be enlisted to protect China or else risk the chance of their business dealings being made public in a messy congressional hearing. Wan sensed these Americans were extremely gullible. Don't they have any notion that China's strategy is to diminish U.S. influence and presence in the Pacific by pushing U.S. influence out of Asia, undermine U.S. alliances through maritime intimidation, and then take advantage of U.S. stretched resources from continuous conflict in the Middle East? Wan had escaped the Cultural Revolution and purges of the '70s. He had studied engineering at Beijing's prestigious Oinghua University and been selected to attend the Central Party School at the Imperial Summer Palace. Wan pointed at the newspaper on his desk. "I see you are the featured lecturer this month at the university." Tan looked surprised. "A series on comparative political systems. Comparing our unique form of Chinese fascism with other political systems." "Should elicit a good response from students." "Since scrapping the communist economic system, students want to know why we haven't embraced capitalism." "And --" "They also question management and shareholders holding government jobs at the same time." "How did you extract yourself from that conflict of interest?" "I admitted it leads to bribery and graft," Tan replied. "Then, there are always questions about why China maintains a single party dictatorship." "We have to control a large diverse society. Of course, you told them we can not tolerate Western-style freedoms and democracy." Wan reviewed the details with Tan. An announcement would be made in the UN on the following day that would be designed to be received as a Chinese appeasement. Stop hostilities while the two parties attempted to reach a peaceful resolution over Taiwan. Of course, no peaceful resolution would be reached. China would use the delay to attack Taiwan. * * * "My concerns are the same as yours
were," Kelly said. "Am I doomed by history to make the same
mistakes? I don't want a career of buildbust cycles, policy mistakes.
Coming out of WWII the U.S. was invincible. What changed? Korea? How did a
third world power nearly defeat us? Then came Vietnam, the Cold War, Gulf
War, Balkan wars, terrorist wars, and Iraq. Why have all these wars been
so indecisive?"
"MacArthur was the Supreme Allied
Commander in Japan. He saw himself as the last imperial leader of the
twentieth century. Japan was his empire. He ruled Japan and reasoned that
because Japan crushed China, he had no reason to fear a bunch of
third-world communists in China and Korea. His arrogance set the stage for
complacency, while he cleverly built up a cult of personality around
himself." * * *
Major General Wan stood patiently at the end of the conference table while the group formally greeted one another. He was tired and tense from a long meeting with the Party earlier in the day. The Director of Intelligence motioned for attention and continued in a strong voice. "Tonight's mission will be a massive saturation raid on the American Battle Group. Air Force Bombers, attack aircraft, and mobile land-based launchers armed with the new version of the Sunburn cruise missile will carry out the attack." "How many cruise missiles are we talking about?" Captain Anderson asked. "Five hundred." Ernie's reply produced instant shock. Shoulders and mouths dropped. "My God! How do we defend against a saturation raid of that magnitude?" the admiral demanded. "We don't know. We've never faced a threat like this," Ernie said sheepishly. The Chinese officers all staunchly supported saturation defense against a massive force. The concept had its roots with Sun Tzu, who had written The Art of War more than twenty-five hundred years earlier. The Chinese, and Japanese samurai as well, considered this book their bible for strategy, not only for war but also as a philosophy for warriors to live by.
When she turned onto the boat's centerline, the night demon appeared on the windshield and taunted her with its steely yellow eyes. She imagined the boat turned backward. Touches of vertigo made her feel the lift being sucked off the wings. The sky suddenly darkened. She had an impulse to squeeze on more power as she approached the fantail where the sinkhole lurked. Doggedly, she fought off the demon's bidding.
President Bush put the UN and its members on notice that the conduct of the Iraqi regime was a threat to the authority of the UN itself. If the members of the body couldn't muster the fortitude to do something about Iraq, then U.S. action was unavoidable. Bush pointed to the UN's founding after generations of deceitful dictators, broken treaties, and squandered lives. Would the UN serve the purpose of its founding or would it prove to be irrelevant? The response was yet another resolution that dispatched weapons inspectors. Diplomacy failed. With no other option left, the U.S. went to war with a small but significant coalition of "the willing." Now, the UN was meddling again, in an American initiative to stop China, the neighborhood bully, from invading one of the world's most important emerging democracies. "Damn the Security Council!" Kelly couldn't keep the venom from her voice. "Every time we take an action to defend weak countries, we’re blocked in the UN. Terrorist countries like Iran or neighborhood bullies -- like China." Her voice rose, her face flushed, and her words splattered over her grandfather. He was obviously surprised at her rage. "America's problem
is trying to determine how to perpetuate and expand its power effectively
around the world without offending 190 member countries." "At the end of the Cold War there was a period of euphoria. Then terrorists began to strike all over the globe. That galvanized the U.S. It was time to reform the post-World War II model, revise our alliances and demand reform in institutions like the UN." "What's wrong with our alliances?" Kelly asked. "They're offshoots of regimes that emerged from the collapse of colonial empires after World War I and World War II. Many of these regimes have no democratic foundations, like rule-of-law, and are governed by abusive monarchies, dictators, tyrants, warlords, and psychopaths. They're the legacy Europe left for the rest of the world to repair. Europe's wealth and resolve to help these regimes vanished long ago. The U.S. has to sort through the carcass to find constructive alliances." Kelly wanted her quality of life, as well as the rest of the crew's, to be fulfilled. If up and down the ranks their expectations were satisfied, the war-fighting machine would survive and their careers would be advanced. Was that a childish, idealistic kind of thought? "Everyone in today's world knows tedious, repetitious work destroys morale," Kelly said. "Incentives have to be infused to change the boat driver's mindset and all the rest of his community. The incentive is to cleverly reduce the manning levels and enrich the work experience." "It's a war, Jerry. And I do what I'm trained for. Just like you." "I know. I can hear
our kids explaining what our jobs are to their classmates. 'Mommy shoots
planes down, and Daddy's work is secret. If he tells us, he'd have to kill
us."' * * *
"China is a
huge disconnect," Greg said. "The reformers welcome us. The
hard-liners threaten us with nuclear destruction. Free-Traders have been
duped into complacency. There's plenty of cause for concern. China's the
last communist nuclear power and unpredictable." * * * Won wondered how the wise Sun Tzu would have viewed China's current inbred hostility caused by a rigid strategic policy and expansive world aspirations. "You Americans risk a Chinese nuclear strike if you intervene in a conflict between China and Taiwan. Do you value Taipei more than Los Angeles?" Wan had helped draft the PLA's plan for the future. The strategic goal was to build a world-class military force with modern strategic missiles and a navy capable of projecting power far beyond China's shores. A tantalizing idea that captured Wan's imagination was a plan for China to use the Panama Canal to block access to commerce and naval ships at either end of the canal. * * * NORAD's early warning satellites, looking down on the Chinese missile complexes, detected exhaust plumes from hundreds of rockets. Long-range radars on the Aegis ships identified and locked on Chinese boosters and designated them as targets for intercept. The missile ship Iwo Jima launched 255 long-range interceptor missiles from its missile tubes. The ship was capable of firing 2,400 rounds -- 1,200 each of T1 and T2 interceptors. Flight times for the Chinese missiles varied from eight to twenty minutes. The boost phase required five to seven minutes before warheads and decoys could be deployed. This window was all the time available for the interceptors to destroy the missiles in the boost phase before the warhead was deployed. "We're targeted," Pate said. At that moment the
officer-of-the-deck ordered the ship into a tight turn. Greg's hands began to tremble. He set his coffee mug down and his right eye started twitching uncontrollably. It was a historic moment, but he felt no elation. He was numbed by what had just happened… the only Battle Group equipped with a Sea Shield had foreclosed the missile threat to the world. "A Battle Group with a Sea Shield is only twenty-four hours from any country," Pate said. "Bullies will now know their missiles are useless. Cross a land border to invade a neighbor and you attract a Battle Group with a Marine Expeditionary Force." A Marine Expeditionary Force was the single most powerful fighting force in the world. With 75 percent of the world's population and infrastructure lying within three hundred miles of the littoral-coastal populations meant the Marines were within three hours of striking with their full war-fighting capability. "What country is equipped to go up against a force with a Sea Shield?" the admiral wanted to know. The door was still open for non-national terrorists. Electronic and economic warfare and a Sea Shield didn't solve the problem of weapons of mass destruction (WMD). But if you're a terrorist, a Sea Shield puts a damper on trying to put WMD on missiles. A big part of nuclear proliferation would go away if you couldn't put nukes on missiles. Homeland defense against imported WMD becomes more manageable.
Kelly took their trays and stacked them.
"See the news -- what a mess --the UN "The U.S. clashed with the UN Security Council over the role of UN peacekeepers," Greg explained. "The U.S. warned Syria and Iran again that their support for terrorists disrupts the Israeli-Palestinian peace process. They threatened to preemptively strike them with Marine Expeditionary Forces. To change the regime in Palestine, we had to first change the regime in Iraq. That attracted Saddam's loyalists and all the young al Qaeda Sunni fanatics from outside Iraq. We were up to our eyeballs with crocodiles. Israel was left alone facing the militants and Bush's Palestinian peace initiative failed. Lebanon becomes a second front allowing us to kill two birds with one stone. We stop the Islamic terrorists that hijacked the Palestinians and at the same time seal off the porous borders with Syria and Iran that supply fresh al Qaeda." "We can't win a war against terrorism. Terror is a tactic like air power." Greg groped for an analogy that would make his argument clear. "We can't enlist coalition partners with opaque abstractions. We have to convince them that Islamic radicals have distorted the Islamic belief system by hijacking Islam and taking their liberty and freedoms hostage." "Papa, what makes you so optimistic to believe Egyptians and other Arab societies won't embrace bin Ladenism or some other Islamic theocracy like Iran's Shiites?" "Bin Ladenism is a Sunni doomsday cult," Greg replied. "Like all great religions or belief systems, it's periodically hijacked by radicals like the Wahhabis." "How did foreign policy change?" "Policies adopted for deterrence during the Cold War no longer apply. Before September 11, policies were based on dealing with a rational enemy. There's nothing rational about suicide bombers." "You're too damned
optimistic." Kelly looked baffled. "Where? Not Iraq!" "In America! Even the Saudis understand that. Just watch any airliner take off from Dhahran or Jeddah headed for the U.S. Once the plane's off the ground, off come women's abayas and men's thobes and guttras. Out of bathrooms come fashion models in high heels and businessmen in thousand-dollar Brooks Brothers suits, wearing Gucci shoes. "The battle within Islam's belief system, as with the other great religions, is who has the right to use his or her interpretation of Islam to justify the right of certain people to govern. The Shiite mullahs in Iran and the Sunni imams in Saudi Arabia have hijacked Islam. The battle within the Muslim world is a battle for hearts and minds. So we have two kinds of battles going on inside Islam; one is an intellectual one for the hearts and minds of the Muslim world and the other is a transnational war by terrorist ideologues against the Western world. The strategic threat to America is bin Laden's anti-American message and al Qaeda's unifying ideology." Kelly clinched her fist and quietly pounded the table. "Europeans bellyache about our unilateral action. They want a coalition but they don't have anything to contribute. They shrink from defense spending and, when push comes to shove, expect us to do the heavy lifting. Then they demand the right to sit at the security table and veto our policy actions." Good. Kelly was finally coming to grips with what she didn't like. * * * The general grimaced as he swallowed some of the fiery alcohol from Shanxi and reflected on the consequences of what had happened. Pretend to be a pig (play dumb) in order to eat the tiger. It was Strategy Number Twenty-Seven of Sun Tzu's thirty-six strategies of war. He closed his eyes in resignation. The strategy had not worked this time. Indeed, there had been a serious miscalculation that had now caused an undesirable consequence. They had aroused the tiger. * * * The screens were now blank. No more spots or lines dancing across the grid like Pac-men, flashing and eliminating each other. This wasn't a child's game. This was war in the twenty-first century. When the spots disappeared, real people died. When the planes were safely recovered and ordnance stored at daylight, Captain Anderson would declare a "steel beach" picnic and barbecue. They would cook steak, chicken, hamburgers, and hotdogs on the flight deck. Golfers, fishers, and bands would appear. The Air Department would lower one of the aircraft elevators to the hangar deck, the ship would stop, and a swim call would be issued. Crewmembers would get the opportunity to jump the twenty-six feet from the elevator to the water. It wouldn't be unusual to have 2,000 people literally jump ship. Was the world a better place? Rogue countries considering achieving political goals with the use of force would study the outcome. They would conclude that the use of missiles was no longer an option. Terrorists would still exist and be encouraged by foolish nation-states. In the new world order the penalty bar had been substantially raised. Part One Part ThreeBuy Book Direct
Contact the Author I love to hear from readers, and I'm available for personal appearances. Contact me at stan@sowensmith.com.
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