The President gestured to a settee to the right of his own armchair and enquired whether the Ambassador would prefer tea, coffee, or something stronger. Katayama declined, and sat there waiting for the silence to be broken. The President cleared his throat. `Well, Mr Ambassador, what are we to make of events at Ogasawara? I can tell, just having read the Washington Post's poll of American attitudes to Japan, you have opened a hornets' nest. What do you say?'
Katayama waited for what seemed like an eternity to reply. And then he spoke. `First of all, Mr President, may I, on behalf of the Japanese government and people of Japan, extend our profound sympathies at the loss of the USS Peleliu? It was a shock to us all. Tokyo has instructed our Ambassador in Beijing to make the strongest possible representations to the Chinese government. Now I turn to answer your question. It is a matter greatly to be regretted that things have come to this. But they have, and we have to move forward, not back,' he said. `The simple fact is, Mr President, that you and your country can no longer make good your security treaty with us. This has been amply demonstrated by the events of this week. We understand that and have understood it for some time. The days of Americans fighting wars in Asia are over. You have made your sacrifices, you have safeguarded this region while we have grown strong and rich. But there comes a time in the maturity of nations when we have to bid our foster parents farewell and stand on our own two feet. We've had our growing pains. Need I remind you of New Zealand's effective pull-out from the ANZUS treaty in the early 1980s, your ejection from the Philippines in the early 1990s, and the hostility you've found in Okinawa since the mid 1990s? That your military withdrawal from Asia should coincide with the rise of China as a superpower was, as your government well knows, a matter of grave concern for us. It was a concern that was made no easier to bear with our own people by the incessant attacks successive governments have made on us in the area of trade. And all along you have said, spend more on defence. You cannot have it both ways. You cannot on the one hand require us to pay ever increasing amounts for our own defence and on the other seek to determine how we then act. That I think is what is meant by the term "imperial overreach", is it not? Japan, Mr President, has not stood still during this period. A new post-war generation has come to power. It has no memory of the Pacific War, it only has questions as to why Japan cannot look after its own affairs.
`Why are you surprised by our modest nuclear test? As I am sure you know better than I, the US government has been providing Japan with the technical know-how to build a nuclear device for well over a decade. We did not take the decision to go down the nuclear route lightly. This did not just mean building some bombs, it meant also having the capability to deliver them. And we have the capability, within a regional context, to deliver a nuclear warhead with accuracy.
`What I think you want to know is our intentions. Prime Minister Hyashi will be making an address to the nation on that matter shortly. I cannot pre-empt it but I can assure you that it holds no genuine surprises, that we look forward to continued close cooperation with the United States. But let me say this. We are in Asia; you are not. We have to deal with China as a military threat and a commercial opportunity; you just have to manage a commercial relationship. Our position is more complex as well. We have the legacy of history to overcome. Even as we speak, we have to assess this new outbreak of violence on the Korean peninsula. Here is a dangerous and unpredictable flashpoint in which people will look to Japan for leadership. All this will be the challenge of Japanese diplomacy in the coming years. As for American public opinion, we look to you to give your people the lead. Racism, an ugly word, has always been part of our relationship. Through leadership, on both sides, it can be ameliorated if not completely eradicated. We cannot run our affairs on the basis of opinion polls in newspapers.'
American satellite photographs showed no abnormal activity on the heavily fortified front line between North and South. The hills and rice paddies, covered with snow, frost, and thick ice, appeared as they always had done at this time of year. North Korean peasants worked muffled up against the sub-zero temperatures and biting winds. The food and fuel shortages had gripped their country for more than six years now since the first devastating floods. Bad times had arrived shortly after the death of Kim Il-Sung and they were not so sure about his reclusive son. They called him `the iron lord of all creatures' and `the great military strategist'. But Kim Jong-Il rarely went out among the people, nor did he offer guidance on agriculture, industry, and the Juche philosophy, as his father had. In the elite circles of Pyongyang there were stories of Kim Jong-Il in wild parties with prostitutes from Scandinavia, France, and Britain; of his drinking; of his deep depressions and uncontrollable temper. No one was sure of the true character of this enigmatic leader. But for the peasants he had certainly not been able to safeguard Korea from natural disasters. They lived on barely subsistence diets and it had been more than a year since their homes had had electricity or any fuel for heating.
Yet just underneath their fields were enough supplies to sustain whole towns, a complex of military installations which this most secretive country built to unleash its offensive against the South when the time was right. Artillery, tanks, fighter aircraft, and helicopters were hidden in tunnels and huge caves hewn out of the mountains. North Korea believed it could launch an intensive surprise attack by delivering artillery support without exposing the weapons. Short-range firepower would come from tank and mechanized units. Hundreds of amphibious vehicles would cross the Imjin River to send in troops and equipment. More than 2,000 prefabricated floating bridges were ready to replace the existing bridges which would be blown by retreating allied forces. In the late Nineties, Pyongyang had tightened its own defences with more than 15,000 antiaircraft guns, together with 500 surface-to-air missiles and a new early warning radar system to intercept intruding aircraft, while the North's 170mm cannon and 240mm rockets would pound the heart of Seoul. One of the first targets would be Seoul's 88 Freeway, which straddled the city but could be used as a runway for the South's fighter jets.
As South Korea's special forces commandos left their submarines and headed for the Northern coastline, defence officials in Seoul were drawing up plans to defend the city in the worst-case scenario of a full-frontal assault from the North.
Each of the commandos knew the base he was attacking as if it was his own. They had studied photographs and been trained in model layouts, although none had believed they would ever have to move in for real as they were now. At Ma Yangdo twenty-four men made landfall inside the base perimeter to avoid the mined terrain on the other side of the fence. Six broke away, killed the guards, and waved ten other men forward. The remainder stayed with the boats. Explosives were laid around the main buildings and the fuel and ammunition dumps. Frogmen attached mines to twelve North Korean mini-subs on delayed timers. Three Soju class fast-attack craft were also in the port: mines were attached to them as well. Within ten minutes, and without being detected, the raiding party had finished its task. The explosives were designed to terrify and destroy. They cut through the buildings, spraying out smaller devices which booby-trapped the whole area around. North Korean troops were wounded and killed by them hours after the attack. The base itself was rendered inoperative, and before pulling away from the combat area mines were laid at the entrance of the port. Two of the other attacks also went according to plan, but at Sagon-ni a North Korean guard spotted the raiding party as the men came ashore. He opened fire, killing two immediately and wounding three more. Spotlights lit up the whole base and alarms wailed as the North Koreans took up positions on rooftops with heavy machine-guns. Six commandos slipped into the water and escaped. Five others were gunned down and at least four were captured alive. A television broadcast from Pyongyang showed the bodies of the commandos, filmed as they lay on the ground in the base. The newscaster interviewed South Korean prisoners, their heads hanging and rolling from side to side in what was meant to be a guilt-racked confession. The South denied the report outright. It said the men were North Korean actors. No mention was made by either side of the successful operations against the three other naval bases.