Edge of War

“These ships are fuel tenders,” said the Vietnamese supreme war commander. He did not use a translator when he spoke to Zeus. “They would carry the fuel for the aircraft carriers.”

“That’s true,” said Zeus. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised at Trung’s mastery of details, and yet he was.

The general walked back to his seat and sat down. His aides began talking among themselves in Vietnamese. Zeus looked at Perry, who didn’t offer much encouragement. Zeus sensed that Perry thought it was a bad idea.

But there were no good ideas: with no air force, a navy that was a joke, a thin army — what could they really expect?

“This is not a bad idea,” said Trung in his characteristically soft voice. “But there are a number of things to be added.”

Trung paused, silent for a full minute, considering.

“If the tenders were blown up, the carriers would have to retreat,” he said. “Their aircraft would lack fuel.”

“That’s true,” said Zeus.

“So that would be a prime target.”

“Okay.”

“The main problem is how to get the force there,” said Trung.

“I’ve thought of that, too.” Zeus pointed at the image. “We have a diversion here, just close enough to the carriers’ attention. A force of commandos comes out from here and cuts across the gulf north of Buch Long Vi Island. Small, fast boats, stay away from the Chinese patrols farther north. You could make it.”

“That is over two hundred kilometers,” said one of Trung’s assistants in Vietnamese. Zeus waited for it to be translated.

“It is far,” admitted Zeus. “But from there it gets easier. Once you’re on the island, they’re not expecting you. You arrange in the harbor to make it seem as if there’s a massive attack. And we take the tankers out somehow, as General Trung suggested. The attack doesn’t have to be huge. It just has to look like a submarine attack. The Chinese will have to bring in more ASW assets. It’ll be days, if not weeks, before that happens.”

ASW stood for antisubmarine warfare. The force left behind on Hainan had mostly second- and third-tier defenses.

Zeus glanced around the room. There wasn’t a single enthusiastic face.

And why should there be? Even if the mission succeeded, it would buy the Vietnamese only a few days — three or four weeks, maybe, with Trung’s adjustment. At the same time, it would be incredibly difficult, a suicide mission in all but name.

“I believe it is worth a try,” said Trung finally. “We will go ahead.”

Zeus was surprised. But before he could say anything, Trung raised his hand and continued to speak.

“What the plan most requires is a dedicated commander, one who can not only plan it but lead it. The only person I can think of who would qualify, Major Murphy, is you.”

* * *

“I don’t even want to raise the point with the president, Zeus,” said General Perry as he, Christian, and Zeus drove back to the city. “Even if he would reverse his stand against using our troops here, I wouldn’t let you go. You’re too damn valuable.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Zeus. “I mean, thank you for saying I’m valuable. But…”

“What’s the but?”

Zeus wasn’t sure. Now that he had come up with the plan, a long shot if ever there was one, he felt obliged to defend it. And defending it meant being willing to go on the mission.

The more he thought about it, in fact, the more he thought he could make it work. Once on Hainan, he could pose as a Western businessman. Businessmen were plentiful in the autonomous economic development zone, especially in the cities. Give him one Chinese speaker and some well-trained men, and they could make the attack look realistic enough. It didn’t even have to succeed — as long as the Chinese thought there were more submarines than they’d known, and that the vessels had the capability to get past the screen, they’d be forced to regroup and rethink.

Zeus was starting to understand the Chinese military mind much better than he had before coming here. The Chinese were brilliant planners and could easily move large numbers of men. But when their initial plans broke down, the army stalled. The attack on the dam, flooding their assault path, was a prime example. An American army faced with a problem like that would have adopted a solution within hours. It might be the wrong solution — Zeus knew from his war games that most American officers would head into Laos, where mountains and high jungle would greatly complicate their advance — but they would do something. The Chinese were just sitting and waiting.

“I don’t know, General,” said Christian. “If Zeus wants to put his neck on the line, I say let him.”

“Careful, Win. Or you’ll he going with him.”

“I — have no problem with that,” stuttered Christian.

Zeus barely stifled a laugh. The asshole.

The driver brought them back to the embassy, where General Perry had to use the secure communications center to talk to Washington.

“You boys can go back to the hotel,” Perry said as he got out of the car. “Zeus?”

“Yes, General?”

“You think this idea has any chance of succeeding?”

“Sir, if it were up to me I’d lead it myself,” said Zeus. “That’s how much I believe in it.”

Perry grimaced, then closed the door.

“Man, who’s the brownnoser now?” said Christian as the car pulled away from the embassy gate.

“I wasn’t bullshitting. I would.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You forget, Win, I was in Special Forces.”

“Big fucking deal. You got your ticket punched there because you figured it was a quick path to a star on your shoulder.”

“Right.”

“Hey, you don’t have to snow me. I know the score. I know how the politics work, believe me. I pull the strings myself when I can.”

“Duh.”

“Yeah, duh.”

“You don’t know crap. You were an engineering major. What are you going to do, build roads?”

“I could build a fuckin’ road if I had to,” said Christian. “And for your information, my engineering degree is in mechanical — ”

“I’m shocked. You actually used an expletive.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you back.”

Zeus looked toward the front of the car. The driver was Vietnamese, and didn’t know much English.

A good thing, thought Zeus. He’d be looking at them like they were kindergartners.

17

Washington, D.C.

President Greene rose from, his desk in the Oval Office, took a last swig of coffee, then hurried out to the hall, Secret Service detail and aides in tow. It was nearly one. He was due in the secure communications area for another phone call from General Perry in Hanoi.

Then the real fun would begin. Lunch with Senator Grasso et al.

Dickson Theodore, his chief of staff, met him on the steps.