Dragon Sim-13

5

At the first report of trouble in Tiananmen Square, Meng had left word not to be disturbed and locked the door to his office. Now he sat mesmerized as the disjointed pictures from the few Western camera crews that had braved the events of the previous night in China's capital rolled across the screen. The anchorman was making the most he could of the little information he had.

"Thousands of Chinese Army troops supported by armored vehicles stormed Tiananmen Square early this morning Beijing time. Initial reports indicate that dozens were killed and hundreds wounded as troops opened fire with automatic weapons.

"Exact reports on the number killed are sketchy. The Associated Press reported that the state-run radio put the death toll in the thousands and denounced the crackdown. Shortly after that, the station changed announcers and began broadcasting reports supporting the Communist government. Our man in Beijing, Jim Thomas, is presently on the telephone. Hello, Jim. Can you hear me?"

"I can barely make you out, Tom."

"What can you tell us regarding the number of people killed in this crackdown?"

" 'Crackdown' is a mild word for it, Tom. I think massacre would be more appropriate. It's difficult to get even a good estimate because there is still firing going on in the square and along Changan Avenue, where most of the killing has taken place. Soldiers are firing at anything that moves, so naturally most of us are reluctant to move out and about. I have been on the phone to local hospitals and they give me reports of at least sixty-eight corpses being received. Students I've talked with who were present in Tiananmen Square when the shooting began claim that at least five hundred were killed.

'The official news program now claims that more than one thousand police officers and troops have been injured and some killed. The report also says that an undisclosed number of civilians were killed but did not give any more detail. This was after an initial report of thousands killed."

"Can you tell us how all this began?"

"Well, it's difficult to say, Tom. It probably started yesterday afternoon about 2:15 local time when protesters overturned and set fire to several army vehicles that were attempting to move along Changan Avenue toward Tiananmen Square from the west. Troops retaliated by firing tear gas and beating protesters. Then, around 4:00 in the afternoon, a group of protesters threw stones at the Great Hall of the People. This may or may not have driven those in power to try to move more troops in. At about 6:00 another convoy was stopped trying to come into the square from the east. For the next six hours it was unclear what was happening, but it was obvious that the military was preparing for some sort of large-scale move. At midnight, there were the first reports of shots being fired. Then, at 12:30 this morning, troops entered the square from all directions. These troops were not the same ones who had tried on Saturday to enter the square. These were troops from the provinces who the government apparently felt would not hesitate to follow orders — and, as events have turned out, rightly so. Another change was that these soldiers came in armed with AK-47 assault rifles loaded with live ammunition. Once the firing began, the situation turned to chaos. I can still hear shots being fired as we speak."

"Thank you, Jim. We'll be keeping in touch with Jim Thomas to give you the latest information as the situation sorts itself out over there.

"The initial reaction from the United States government has been one of caution. President Bush made a brief statement from his retreat in Maine, where he is spending the weekend."

The scene shifted to President Bush at his house in Kennebunkport.

"I deeply deplore the decision to use force against peaceful demonstrators and the consequent loss of life. We have been urging and continue to urge nonviolence, restraint, and dialogue. Tragically, another course has been chosen. Again, I urge a return to nonviolent means for dealing with the current situation."

"That was the president—"

Meng turned off the volume on his set using the remote control. He was disgusted with Bush's comments. He didn't want to hear any more. He stared as the station replayed the few video clips they had. Meng stood up and talked to the TV. "What does 'nonviolent means' entail, Mister Bush? Against tanks and bullets? It is too late for that. The Old Men have spoken and they will not listen to your prattling."

He slumped back into his chair. Staring at the pictures of bloody bodies being carried from the square by other students, Meng felt rage burn through his veins. A flickering shot of a lifeless body being tossed onto the back of a hand-held cart caused Meng to leap out of his chair and run to the TV. The scene shifted to a view of tanks rolling across the square, but the slack face of the young man being put in the back of the cart was fused in Meng's mind. It was the face he had been looking for on every broadcast since this whole crisis began.

Mitchell opened an eye as he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. "Hey, bud. Get up. The shit has hit the fan across the water in China."

He leaned up on an elbow and focused in on Riley. "What do you mean?"

"The government cracked down on those students in Tiananmen Square. There are reports of hundreds having been killed."

Mitchell processed that slowly. "Anything from Hossey or the SFOB on whether this changes the mission?"

Riley shook his head. "Not a peep. I'm having Lalli write up a message asking that question, plus a request for information on how much this has affected their army. I sure don't like the idea of going into a country in the middle of a rebellion if that's what this turns into."

Mitchell found his glasses and put them on. "It's a hell of a coincidence that we're planning this mission during all this."

Riley agreed. "I think we need to crank down another turn on the guys and make sure they really have their shit together for this mission. I still haven't seen anything on a training offset area. Maybe somebody in Washington knows something we don't about China."

Meng sat in his usual position in the back of the room as General Olson and his staff held their meeting. With the rational part of his mind he listened in. They were trying to decide whether the events in Tiananmen Square would have any effect on this mission. Meng himself was not concerned. The operational area was far enough away from Beijing, or for that matter any other big city, that it would not make any difference. He did not plan on making any changes to his program. If anything, he would estimate that it improved the team's chances of infiltration because the Chinese military was sure to be in some degree of disarray. There was a good chance of troops being moved from the Shenyang Military Region, where the target was, down to Beijing, reducing the enemy threat for the mission. There was also less possibility of the Combat Talon being picked up on the way in, since the Chinese military would have its eyes focused inward.

Meng's first run-through using the team's proposed concept of operation had yielded a surprising 58 percent chance of success with no losses or discovery. Meng thought that number quite high, considering how deep the target area was in China and the difficulties in infiltration and exfiltration. That success percentage included destruction of the pipeline for the indicated period of seven days. Meng thought, on the whole, that the percentage of risk was quite acceptable for such a high-profit target.

Meng was somewhat surprised that his mind could still function on

the task at hand while his emotions tore at him. His son was dead— the son he had never told the Americans about when he'd come to them in Hong Kong twenty-three years ago. If he had told the intelligence officer that he had family back in China, they would never have accepted him. He would have been sent back. This lie was the foundation upon which Meng's freedom and career had been built.

Even having the picture on his desk had been risky. He'd always been afraid that someone would ask who they were and he would have had to lie. It seemed such a trivial thing now that they were both dead. He would no longer have to lie.

Riley was working on the tactical plan for the actual assault when Hossey entered the isolation area and signaled to both Mitchell and him.

"I've got the staff officer from the aviation unit that will be flying the exfil birds. He's in the operations center, and I don't want to bring him in here because he has no need to know your mission. He's got what he needs to answer your questions."

Hossey led the way to the op center, where an army captain wearing a flight suit and a green beret was waiting. Riley was immediately annoyed. The least the idiot could have done was to wear a nondis-tinctive uniform, Riley thought. Between the Talon being rolled into a hangar on post and this guy showing up, any North Korean spies— who were surely watching the air base — were probably curious about what was happening. Security and espionage were two very serious subjects between the two Koreas.

Hossey didn't bother with introductions. There was no need for the pilot to know who they were. Riley could see the velcro on the man's flight suit where he had removed his patches. Despite that, Riley had no doubt that the man was from the 1st Special Forces Group aviation detachment — the yellow flash on his beret signaled that. God save me from pilots who think they're hot stuff, Riley thought. Even though this pilot isn't Special Forces qualified, he gets to wear the Green Beret because he is assigned to a Special Forces group. A Green Beret aviator must be the ultimate in cool at the o club bar, Riley mused bitterly.

Rambo and Top Gun combined. But this wasn't an o club bar, and it was obvious that the aviator didn't know the first thing about mission security.

"Afternoon, gentlemen. The colonel tells me you have some questions about the mission my men are supposed to fly for you."

Mitchell let Riley take the lead. "Sir, I don't have a warm fuzzy feeling about this exfiltration. Can you tell us who the pilots are going to be?"

"We're going to be using four of my own. Men with extensive flying experience. Both primary pilots have more than a thousand hours of blade time in the Blackhawk."

"Are we going to be able to meet with them for coordination prior to infiltration?" Riley asked.

"I'm afraid not. The aircraft are already in place at the forward launch site at Misawa Air Force Base in Japan. If you need to give them any information, I'll relay it. You've got the frequencies, call signs, and recognition signals. We've got your pickup zones, both primary and alternate. What more do you need?"

"Well," Mitchell intervened, "we haven't had much luck with helicopters. We'd just feel a little more comfortable if we could talk to the pilots."

"What's the problem? Maybe I can answer it for you."

Mitchell pointed at the chart in the man's hand. "The first question we have is that from Misawa to the target area and back is a little long for a UH-60 to be flying. I know you all have thought of that, but we'd like to know what the plan is."

The captain unrolled his chart and laid it on the table. The four of them gathered around it. "The operational range of the UH-60 is two hundred and sixty nautical miles on internal fuel. We're going to put four external tanks on the outside of the birds on pylons above the cargo bay. These will increase the range to a total of one thousand and ninety nautical miles. A straight shot from Misawa to your pickup zone is eight hundred and fifty-one nautical miles. As you've noted, the aircraft aren't going to be able to do the round-trip without refueling.

"Additionally, they're not going to be flying straight in and out. We've planned a low-level route over land, avoiding the known radar, that we figure will add around fifty to a hundred miles each way. To accommodate that, on the way in they'll refuel off the U.S. Navy frigate Rathburne, which will be located here at checkpoint 2, in international waters in the Sea of Japan. Topping off there will give them enough fuel to make the trip from the Rathburne to your pickup zone and back. On the return trip they'll refuel again on the Rathburne and fly you back here to Osan. We're also ready to fly on a twenty-four-hour weather delay if the primary exfil day doesn't go."

The captain rubbed his chin. "The only tricky part is going to be the weight. With four full external tanks, a Blackhawk can't lift any cargo. We figure that the aircraft will have burned enough weight in fuel by the time they get to your pickup zone to just be able to put six men with no equipment aboard each bird. Even then it's going to be real close to the weight limits."

Riley interrupted him. "What if only one bird makes it? Are you telling me I'm going to have to leave half my team behind?"

"That's the way it is, Sergeant. With that much fuel the helicopter can lift only so much weight. You could fit all twelve of your people on board with no problem, but the bird wouldn't lift. It's a trade-off we've had to make."

Captain Mitchell and Riley were not at all happy. Mitchell stood up. "What you're telling me is that there's no backup. How many aircraft do you have over at Misawa?"

"Just the two."

Captain Mitchell wasn't satisfied. He knew from his wife's stories that helicopters were terribly prone to being down for maintenance. "What if one breaks down? There's no latitude here for any problems."

"That's not my decision." The captain didn't seem too concerned. "We've got only the two anyway. There are no more." The aviator smiled at them. "What's the big deal? We haven't even gotten the offset mission yet. Maybe the training area will be closer and we won't have to put on so much fuel; then we'll be able to put all twelve of you on one bird."

Hossey jumped in with both feet before Riley or Mitchell could. "Captain, you have a problem, and that problem is your attitude. As far as I know this mission is real, and your men will be flying to that pickup zone in China. If you're thinking this is a game, you've got your head up your ass, and you'd better pull it out."

The captain quickly realized he had made a mistake. "Yes, sir. I want to assure you that both birds are up now and I can damn near guarantee that they'll be up for this mission. They were test flown last night and both worked fine. We're not going to crank them again until it's time to go."

Mitchell wasn't buying it. "Why can't you get other army or air force helicopters to back you up?"

"Like I said, both birds will lift. Based on the enemy threat, we feel we can't get more than two birds into the airspace anyway. Putting more aircraft on the mission will just increase the chances of being detected."

Hossey decided to intervene. "All right. I'll contact the SFOB at Meade and ask for helicopter backup, but I doubt that we'll get it at this late notice." He turned to the aviator. "I hope you tell your men to take this seriously. Until we find out different, this whole mission is to be treated like the real thing."

"Yes, sir."

Mitchell and Riley were still not satisfied, but they knew they were hitting a stone wall. Maybe Hossey's request would get some action through the SFOB. Otherwise they'd have to go with what they had.

The news that a navy ship was now involved further increased the reality of the situation, Riley thought. The SFOB was sure pulling a lot of strings.

Down the hall from the Special Forces isolation area, the aircrew was laboring over charts and wading through the intelligence they'd been fed by the SFOB.

Major Kent, the Talon's electronics warfare officer, was concerned primarily with the electronic threat that the aircraft would face. In his opinion, from an aviation viewpoint, the target was in an extremely difficult location to reach. The routes in and out were fraught with numerous problems.

Kent had quickly ruled out going over the Korean demilitarized zone (DMZ) and flying the length of North Korea. The DMZ was one of the hottest spots in the world and was heavily guarded. Despite the Talon's capabilities, Kent knew that their odds were poor of making it over the DMZ without being detected.

That meant they had to make an end run either east or west. Both were about equidistant from Osan. Kent looked at a classified map that listed the various radar and air defense installations in the area. It was obvious that the western route, up over the Yellow Sea, was the more heavily guarded, both by the North Koreans along their west coast and by the Chinese.

Kent studied the eastern route over the Sea of Japan. It looked good except for one major problem — China didn't have a seacoast there. To go in, the Talon would have to cross a strip of land that belonged to either Russia or North Korea. Kent shook his head. Vladivostok was a major Russian port. Although Kent felt that they could avoid its ground air defense radar system, he was concerned about the possibility of Russian ships in the Sea of Japan.

Next he studied the North Korean radar array. Then he examined reports on the alert status of the North Korean and Russian air forces. His conclusion: The scale tilted toward the North Koreans being the greatest threat to alert and launch. Kent decided to make the primary route a shore crossing over Russia rather than North Korea.

Kent lifted his gaze from the maps and leaned back in his chair. Time to put it all on the overlays. He got up and headed over to the navigator to start working on their route options.

Mitchell felt it had been a profitable day. The team had gotten a lot accomplished and was ready to try its first practice run of the briefback. He took his place in front of the team and quickly looked through his notes.

"All right. Listen up. Before we start this practice there are a couple of things I want you to remember about both the briefback and this mission. The primary thing is to treat the mission like it's real. For all we know, right now it is. Every plan you come up with, every little thing you say you're going to do, you damn well better be able to do it."

He swung his gaze to O'Shaugnesy. "If you say you're going to blow the radios in case of compromise, you'd better have requested thermite grenades from the engineers to do just that. Since the sergeant major is giving us the real shit for this mission, I'd also better see a thermite grenade with your radio's name on it among the gear you're packing."

Mitchell took in the entire room. "Saying something during a briefback that you don't really mean or couldn't really do is one of the worst mistakes any of us can make. So when you all listen to each other in this practice, I want you to sharpshoot. If I brief that I'm going to wear yellow underwear with purple stripes, someone better ask to see it."

"No thanks," Riley laughed. The team sergeant turned serious. "Let me add something to what the captain is saying. I know I beat you guys to death on this, but remember first and foremost we're a team. If a fellow team member gets up there in the real briefback before the colonel and says something stupid or answers a question wrong, I don't want to see anybody correcting or contradicting him. To take the captain's analogy a step further, if I brief that every member of the team is going to wear yellow underwear with purple stripes, I'd better see eleven heads sitting here nodding, saying, 'Yes, sir, that's what we're going to be wearing.' "

Riley looked around the room. "We're a team. We stick together no matter what."