Fourth Crisis: The Battle for Taiwan by Peter von Bleichert Page A
Authors: Peter von Bleichert
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the TELs to a silvery tent pitched
at the edge of the forest. Within this fire-resistant
enclosure, an artillery officer opened a metal suitcase and plugged the cable’s
lead into the control panel inside. With
the click of a single switch, the panel came alive with lights and power
gauges. The Chinese officer turned a
dial, and the missile trucks awakened.
Diesel engines turned over and chugged, headlights flashed
and strobed, and horns blasted repeatedly to warn the unwary. Legs extended from the TELs to lift and level
their substantial load. The missile cans
elevated until they stood on end and pointed to the few stars that still clung
to the morning sky. On his control
panel, the officer powered up the missiles, punched in target coordinates, donned
a gas mask, and inserted and turned a key. A charge ignited at the base of the first missile canister.
Rapidly expanding gas puffed the big ballistic missile up
and out, ‘cold-launching’ it clear, and the main engine ignited with a loud bang. A cyclone whipped the command tent, and a
crackling bawl reverberated through the forests of Shaoguan as the ballistic
missile climbed out. Then the second
East Wind popped out and thundered skyward on its tail of fire. It powered through willowy high-altitude
clouds. Other missiles departed adjacent
launch sites, and the deadly flock headed up and over the ocean.
◊◊◊◊
The tropical paradise of Okinawa rose from the sea floor to
form part of the Ryukyu island chain that stretched from Japan to Taiwan. Wiped clean of vegetation in the WWII battle
called the ‘Typhoon of Steel,’ the island had since healed and was again verdant,
though troubled memories lingered like a bad dream, and the ghosts of over
150,000 American and Japanese men remained forever restless. Sprawling Kadena Air Force Base served as the
nucleus of American Pacific airpower in that theater.
Kadena sat next to the Okinawan town whose name it shared. Salient among its hardened aircraft shelters
and runways was the base’s control tower. At its top and behind tinted glass sat and stood American airmen who
scrutinized intermittent radar tracks on their screens.
“Unknown,” a young tech read what his computer told him.
“Got to be seabirds or something. Maybe wave tops?” the supervisor suggested. However, he ordered an airborne patrol to
check it out.
Two American F-15 Eagles peeled off and dove at the gleaming
East China Sea. Mottled shades of grey,
their twin engines opened up and spat fire, pushing the heavy fighters supersonic.
Kadena’s tower controller anxiously watched the Eagles race
across his screen, toward the unidentified contacts. He quickly calculated distance and speed in
his head and concluded the Eagles were going to be late. Now the controller got a solid radar
reflection on the unknowns. Spinning and
clicking a control ball, he zoomed in on the radar plots.
“High-speed; Low-altitude; Solid tracks now,” he mumbled to
himself. “Has to be small airplanes…or
cruise missiles.” He decided to stop
second-guessing himself. The controller
fell back on training and called out: “Vampires. Vampires. Cruise missiles inbound.” He jumped
from his chair and smacked a big mushroom-shaped button. Outside, the base klaxon wound up to a
deafening shrill. Kadena’s
surface-to-air missiles began to sweep the horizon with their acquisition and
targeting radars. A series of networked
tractor-trailers inside one of Kadena’s old hangars housed the base’s air
defense controllers.
“MPQ-65 has lock,” a young woman said, declaring the radar had
acquired the low-flying targets. “Targets approaching minimum engagement range.” She turned and looked to her colleagues with
concern. Across the airfield, a PATRIOT—Phased-Array
Tracking Radar to Intercept On Target—missile burst from its launching
station’s
at the edge of the forest. Within this fire-resistant
enclosure, an artillery officer opened a metal suitcase and plugged the cable’s
lead into the control panel inside. With
the click of a single switch, the panel came alive with lights and power
gauges. The Chinese officer turned a
dial, and the missile trucks awakened.
Diesel engines turned over and chugged, headlights flashed
and strobed, and horns blasted repeatedly to warn the unwary. Legs extended from the TELs to lift and level
their substantial load. The missile cans
elevated until they stood on end and pointed to the few stars that still clung
to the morning sky. On his control
panel, the officer powered up the missiles, punched in target coordinates, donned
a gas mask, and inserted and turned a key. A charge ignited at the base of the first missile canister.
Rapidly expanding gas puffed the big ballistic missile up
and out, ‘cold-launching’ it clear, and the main engine ignited with a loud bang. A cyclone whipped the command tent, and a
crackling bawl reverberated through the forests of Shaoguan as the ballistic
missile climbed out. Then the second
East Wind popped out and thundered skyward on its tail of fire. It powered through willowy high-altitude
clouds. Other missiles departed adjacent
launch sites, and the deadly flock headed up and over the ocean.
◊◊◊◊
The tropical paradise of Okinawa rose from the sea floor to
form part of the Ryukyu island chain that stretched from Japan to Taiwan. Wiped clean of vegetation in the WWII battle
called the ‘Typhoon of Steel,’ the island had since healed and was again verdant,
though troubled memories lingered like a bad dream, and the ghosts of over
150,000 American and Japanese men remained forever restless. Sprawling Kadena Air Force Base served as the
nucleus of American Pacific airpower in that theater.
Kadena sat next to the Okinawan town whose name it shared. Salient among its hardened aircraft shelters
and runways was the base’s control tower. At its top and behind tinted glass sat and stood American airmen who
scrutinized intermittent radar tracks on their screens.
“Unknown,” a young tech read what his computer told him.
“Got to be seabirds or something. Maybe wave tops?” the supervisor suggested. However, he ordered an airborne patrol to
check it out.
Two American F-15 Eagles peeled off and dove at the gleaming
East China Sea. Mottled shades of grey,
their twin engines opened up and spat fire, pushing the heavy fighters supersonic.
Kadena’s tower controller anxiously watched the Eagles race
across his screen, toward the unidentified contacts. He quickly calculated distance and speed in
his head and concluded the Eagles were going to be late. Now the controller got a solid radar
reflection on the unknowns. Spinning and
clicking a control ball, he zoomed in on the radar plots.
“High-speed; Low-altitude; Solid tracks now,” he mumbled to
himself. “Has to be small airplanes…or
cruise missiles.” He decided to stop
second-guessing himself. The controller
fell back on training and called out: “Vampires. Vampires. Cruise missiles inbound.” He jumped
from his chair and smacked a big mushroom-shaped button. Outside, the base klaxon wound up to a
deafening shrill. Kadena’s
surface-to-air missiles began to sweep the horizon with their acquisition and
targeting radars. A series of networked
tractor-trailers inside one of Kadena’s old hangars housed the base’s air
defense controllers.
“MPQ-65 has lock,” a young woman said, declaring the radar had
acquired the low-flying targets. “Targets approaching minimum engagement range.” She turned and looked to her colleagues with
concern. Across the airfield, a PATRIOT—Phased-Array
Tracking Radar to Intercept On Target—missile burst from its launching
station’s
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