You have now seen a demonstration of the long arm of the People’s Republic, and the People’s Liberation Army is deployed to repel any attempt to wrest control of what is ours. We do not seek war, but, after this warning and show of our precise application of force on your island fortress and ships at sea, you must know that your country cannot win a conflict without a cost in blood that is incalculable. The loss in economic treasure alone will surely affect every American.
As military men, it is our responsibility to persuade and advise our civilian masters as to proper strategy, courses of action that prevent unneeded bloodshed and lead to peaceful outcomes. Both of our countries depend on the sea for our livelihoods, and a war between us will leave the world economy in ruins. Your people are tired of conflicts so far from your shores…we both know a majority of Americans could not find Guam on a map or name the ocean it sits in.
My Dear Admiral Clark, I have been your guest and have high regard for you and your family. I beseech you to persuade your President and Secretary to call off your mobilization and return your precious sons and daughters to their homes and families so they will not die a horrible death in a sinking ship or burning airplane for a cause they have no hope of winning. My sons and daughters will die, too, and they are no less precious to me and the People’s Republic… but we will fight for our near seas and not allow our trade routes to be held hostage by any foreign power. You have not yet seen the full fury of the People’s Liberation Army, Navy, Air Force and Rocket Forces. Do not act in a way that forces us to employ that force against you and your regional allies.
With my deep respect and gravest hope,
Dong Li
Party Vice Chairman, People’s Liberation Army
Clark frowned as he folded the message. “Hmmm. McAuliffe at Bastogne comes to mind, but I think I want to say more than ‘Nuts.’”
“Why don’t you, sir?” Casher asked him.
Clark smiled, but it faded as he thought of the gravity of Dong’s message. He was warning him: Don’t do it, Cactus.
From his hilltop office, larger than most Hawaiian homes, Clark could gaze through the floor-to-ceiling windows upon Pearl Harbor and Hickam. The waterfront was empty, with only a single DDG standing out to sea in the channel, what Clark knew was a straggler steaming to catch up with the rest of the fleet bound for the SCS. Beyond West Loch was the Ewa Plain and the Wai’anae Range. He thought of his aide tour 20 years earlier and let his eyes roam to his condo building in Pearl City. He remembered the sugar cane burns in Waipahu and weekend drives with Louise to the North Shore. Carefree days….
“Admiral, would you like me to draft a response?” Casher said, interrupting his thoughts.
Clark stroked his chin as he watched a 747 turn to final. “Tell Dong I read his message, and that he hasn’t seen anything from us yet. Then tell the IT guys what happened on our classified net, and that they have five minutes to fix it.”
CHAPTER 31
With the olive drab color of Mount Suribachi filling his view, Wilson rolled to the end of Runway 25 at Iwo Jima and turned off left onto the taxiway with a low-fuel caution on his display. Seconds before touchdown, he saw two Japanese F-15s and a Marine KC-130 in front of the tower. Otherwise, the strip was deserted. He wondered if the Marine aircrew was in Base Ops and how fast they could get airborne.
Seeing a Hornet on final and a distant speck to the east, Wilson opened the canopy and taxied fast down the parallel taxiway. A “Follow Me” truck left the tower to guide him to a parking spot, and Wilson goosed the throttles in an effort to get to the apron in a hurry. Enjoying the warm air, he opened his Koch fittings and unstrapped as his oxygen mask dangling to one side.
Mother’s jet rolled out and slowed on Runway 25 with his speed brake extended. He made it. Scanning the sky, Wilson picked up two more specks beyond a Hornet on final approach at a mile. He also searched the horizon for the Sierra that had launched 30 minutes prior, a helo he hoped was already here.
The truck, seeing the Hornet barrel down on him at a higher than normal taxi speed, turned around and led the jet back to the parking ramp. Wilson saw a linesman there, and on the control tower steps a group of people waiting for him. Among them, he spotted a Caucasian face in a Navy working uniform.
On signal from the linesman, he turned into the parking spot and shut down, securing the battery and unhooking his O2 mask cord. The linesman lowered the ladder, and Wilson hoisted himself out on to the LEX and down the ladder to introduce himself as the group approached. Over his shoulder, Wilson saw that more specks had become visible in the east. He then heard a thumping sound.
Wilson saw his Sierra, flown by the squadron CO Steve Maynard, whip around the tower and pedal turn left, holding the nose high as it slowed. The Japanese welcome party stopped in sudden uncertainty as they saw open doors with gunners behind automatic weapons. Wilson noted the looks of confusion on their faces.
The tail wheel touched down, and, once the mains were on deck, eight troubleshooters and ordnancemen in full flight-deck uniforms jumped out of booth doors and fanned out to park the taxiing jets in queue. The helo roared back into the air, and, as the sound faded, Wilson approached the man he recognized from the preflight brief photo as the Officer in Charge. Wilson, still in full flight gear, bowed at his waist, a move the Japanese officer matched. Wilson then extended his hand.
“Major Furokawa, I am Captain James Wilson from USS Hancock. Thank you for hosting us, and I have a letter from Admiral Johnson requesting your assistance.”
“Welcome to Iwo To, Captain Wilson,” Furokawa greeted him as the others walked up. “I must inquire how long will you stay? My government requests you fuel your aircraft and leave as soon as possible.” Wilson noted the Navy man was a lieutenant, an Aviation Maintenance Officer by his insignia.
“Hello CAG, Leland Williams, I’m the Air Wing Five Officer-in-Charge here. We’ll fuel you up and get some food for your guys. How many are you bringing?”
Wilson shook his hand, realizing that the word had not come down to this isolated rock. “Major, lieutenant, we were attacked by the Chinese and just deck ran these jets off the ship. We’re here for a while, and we expect the whole air wing.”
The Japanese major listened, but Williams was stunned. “The whole wing, sir? And how did you get them off the ship? With deck runs?”
“Yep, expect about 50 fixed-wing, and we are flying helos with external loads and personnel. Expect a couple of Ospreys to help, and I would not be surprised to see C-17s arrive with all kinds of gear. We are going to operate Air Wing Fifteen here for the foreseeable future.”
With Hornets taxiing into the parking area every few minutes, the screaming whine of jet engines at idle rose in volume. The group watched more aircraft approach the isolated island, and, as Wilson had predicted, one of them was a large “trash-hauler” that, at a distance, appeared to be a C-17. Another helicopter arrived, this one with an external load of Hornet tanks and pylons and who-knew-what in the cabin.
“We cannot handle all these airplanes at once!” Furokawa exclaimed. He had not expected this when notified of the American request for assistance from Tokyo.