This radio broadcast had been originally scheduled to take place twelve hours ago. Still well within the impenetrable confines of the polar icepack at this time, they had been forced to abandon their efforts and continue southward. Time was of the essence now, and with almost two thousand nautical miles still to travel, and a scant sixty hours left to reach their goal, the Lijiang could not tarry.
Admiral Liu had fortunately considered the possibility of just such a communication problem when drafting then orders In case thick ice, mechanical difficulties, or the presence of a threatening contact in the area kept them from fulfilling their original broadcast, they were free to continue on with their mission, and attempt re contacting Command every twelve hours.
Guan could imagine how tense things must be at Naval headquarters at Tsingtao. It had been seventy-one and a quarter hours since the Lijiang’s last transmission reached them. They had only just completed their nerve-racking transit of the Bering Strait; they were in the process of penetrating the Chukchi Sea; and the frozen Arctic Ocean and its foreboding polar ice cap still awaited them. So when the clock hit midnight, they cautiously surfaced to broadcast a tightly compressed, heavily coded, highfrequency satellite transmission.
Guan had been one of the fortunate few allowed up into the boat’s sail during this all too brief visit to the surface. After spending days on end trapped inside the stuffy, claustrophobic confines of the submerged submarine, he all but ignored the frigid temperatures topside. The fresh air was like a tonic, and bundled up in almost every available piece of clothing he had brought along, Guan got his first view of a desolate frozen wasteland few Chinese had ever seen before.
As luck would have it, the moonless night was crystal clear A brisk, icy breeze was blowing in from the west. Guan pulled tight his greatcoat’s woolen collar and turned his back to the howling, breathtaking gusts.
This allowed him to see the sub’s long whip antenna rise from its protective well in the sail. As his eyes followed this device projecting up into the heavens, he saw a magnificent sight that at first startled him. His initial impression was that the night sky had somehow caught on fire! From horizon to horizon, the northern lights illuminated the heavens with ghostly bands of intense, pulsating color.
Fiery reddish orange tendrils of light shot through the skies, looking much like the effluence of an erupting, cosmic volcano. Interspersed amongst these fiery fingers were bands glowing in a full spectrum of colors ranging from golden yellow, bright swirling green, deep indigo blue, and rich violet. All told, it was a humbling, awe-inspiring sight that was to deeply touch each of the sailors who were blessed with the opportunity to view it.
It took several attempts before the message informing Command of their successful transit of the Bering Strait reached Tsingtao. Their radio officer attributed this delay to the disrupting effects of the intense solar storm that was so visible in the heavens. Guan had no doubt that this was the cause of their radio difficulties, and he was pleasantly surprised when a brief, static-filled response from Command reached them a few seconds later.
The receipt of this curt transmission signaled the end of their brief surface transit. As the Lijiang was prepared to return to the protective depths, Guan took one last appreciative glimpse at the glowing, ethereal heavens before reluctantly joining his comrades below.
What took place next was no less astounding. For the past three days, the Lijiang had crossed beneath the entire frozen breadth of the Arctic Ocean, passing only a few nautical miles from that geographical point known as the North Pole. They hadn’t even stopped to pay homage to the fact that they were the first PLA Navy submarine to visit these distant, inaccessible waters but had continued on with their historic mission at flank speed, drawn by an ever approaching deadline.
Barring unexpected mechanical difficulties, it appeared that they had a decent chance of reaching their goal on time. This in itself was an incredible achievement, and Guan’s heart swelled with pride every time he contemplated the amazing platform that had safely carried them these many thousands of kilometers beneath the silent sea.
The Lijiang was surely the PRC’s greatest technological accomplishment to date. With the majority of its operational systems indigenously designed and produced inside the motherland, the fact that they were able to safely get this far without incident was certain proof that their engineers easily rivaled those of the West.
Of equal importance to this technology were the fine men who operated it. Throughout the entire passage, Guan was continuously impressed with the actions of his fellow sailors. Professionals to the core, they worked many a double watch without relief, and not a word of complaint amongst the lot of them.
In addition to their superb work values, Komsomol attendance had never been so high. Since getting rid of the troublemakers back at the Spratlys, a new spirit of comradeship could be sensed inside the Lijiang’s passageways. Guan attributed this exciting turn of events to the depth and quality of the remaining crew’s ideological values and the leadership so aptly demonstrated by their new commanding officer.
Capt. Lee Shao-chi was everything Guan had hoped for and then some.
From the moment he stepped aboard his new command, Lee took over with an iron fist and a will seemingly forged of steel. Within hours he had gained the respect of officers and enlisted men alike.
Though Guan had feared that there would be some on board who would question then-former captain’s abrupt exit, Lee readily filled the void by instilling a genuine sense of excitement and mystery. A previously agreed upon story was circulated amongst the crew, explaining away Capt. Shen Fei’s unexpected departure as all part of an intentional move by Command to guarantee their current mission’s secrecy. As far as they knew, Shen, Chief Wong, and the other dissidents had been removed from the Lijiang on orders from Admiral Liu. Since none of these unsuspecting sailors knew their real fate, the sham tale had succeeded in putting their minds at ease, with the incident involving the snagged rudder all part of a realistic exercise.
Now it was up to Guan and Lee Shao-chi to keep their suspicions to a minimum. They were able to do so with a demanding work schedule that didn’t give the men a chance to have second thoughts. Lee led the way by example, and he worked tirelessly right alongside his crewmates.
Never before had Guan seen a man so driven as their new captain. He hardly ever seemed to rest, his unlimited energy and boundless enthusiasm the byproduct of daily periods of tai chi and deep meditation.
Lee preferred a vegetarian diet, and when he did eat, it was always in moderation. Though his stays in the wardroom were generally short ones, on those rare occasions when Guan had a meal with him, he was an agreeable dining partner. Like Guan, he enjoyed classical music with his food and was prone to focus wardroom conversation on either operational concerns or ideological philosophies that he found interesting.
Lee’s reputation as a closet philosopher had preceded him. Guan found their discussions in this field most invigorating. There was no doubting that Lee admired the Chairman almost as much as Guan did. He was particularly well versed in Mao’s poetry, and could quote most of his poems by memory. Lee was also an avowed student of Sun Tzu, the fourth century b. c. master military strategist. He frequently repeated Sun Tzu’s doctrines verbatim and was particularly fond of applying them to the art of modern submarine warfare.
When it came to general philosophies of life, Guan sensed that Lee was something of a Taoist. He liked to break things down to their most basic level. He could relate his relatively simple view of life to both officers and enlisted men. In this respect, he made Guan’s job all the easier. For wherever Lee went, he brought with him a deeper insight that constantly challenged the men to think out a problem.