“Your brother-in-law Bingwen’s column,” Nung said.
“Bingwen’s near-relation to me makes no difference to the facts,” said Kao.
Nung had fought against the Army clique his entire life. He had climbed the rungs of rank despite their attempts to torpedo him. Finding it hard to control his temper, Nung asked, “Do you know why I’m commanding this mission?”
“It is obvious that you do not,” Kao said. “I know you believe yourself to be the Chairman’s pet, but I helped put you in the most miserable post I could find. Here. Who would know that the Chairman would decide on such a risky endeavor as this suicidal cross-polar—” Kao quit talking as he blinked in surprise, maybe at the boldness of his words.
“Please,” Nung said. “Tell me more. Your comments on the Chairman’s abilities tickle my ears.”
Marshal Kao straightened as he peered down at the shorter Nung. “You have your orders.”
“Yes. I’ve studied the Army plan,” Nung said. “I detected your hand everywhere. You are methodical and detailed, having us move carefully from phase to phase as we leapfrog our way to Alaska.”
“The cross-polar thrust is a matter of logistics. The pack ice and remoteness of the starting bases makes it a nightmare. It also means you lack needed numbers. But we will air-ferry you more troops and bring others from Navy submarines to reinforce you as you attack.”
“I have studied the Army plan and I find it overly cautious,” Nung said.
“Your praise makes me blush.”
General Nung looked away. Ice, darkness and cold—the marshal would have them spend weeks out on the ice. The plan as it stood was hopeless. He knew that the others couldn’t understand his brilliance. They equated manners and education with brains, and Nung lacked their polished ways. Yet he had outshone every other general in the Siberian War. Yes, he had shot slackers. He’d even gunned down a colonel. Afterward, his men had jumped whenever he gave an order. He had the iron for hard decisions just as the great Chairman Mao had possessed. He had the will and the confidence to keep going where other men halted in confusion or fright.
Nung sighed. Without facing the prim old man, he said, “Your schemes appear beautiful in the conference chamber. But they fail to take into account the fighting soldier and his lust and joy of battle.”
“I am not a butcher. That is true.”
Nung faced the Army Minister. “Did you read my proposal?”
“Yes. It was full of grammatical errors.”
“My proposal was based on a similar historical situation. A dictator named Saddam Hussein once attempted to snatch oil-rich regions.”
“I had no idea you read history.”
“Military history,” Nung said. “After Saddam’s draining war with Iran, he wished to renege on his massive debts to Kuwait and Saudi Arabia.”
“Is there a point to this?”
“Saddam invaded Kuwait and its oilfields. He used far too many soldiers for the attack and he failed to march far enough. He should have taken an elite force and kept going into northeastern Saudi Arabia. If he’d done so, he would have captured the majority of the Arab world’s oil wells. He could have threatened to blow up everything, and the world would have faced a massive oil crisis. That threat would have paralyzed America and kept them from building up a large Coalition force in Saudi Arabia. Instead, Saddam only went partway, grabbing Kuwait but leaving the Saudi oilfields intact. His timidity ended up losing him everything.”
Marshal Kao eyed him, and there was a look of surprise on the old man’s face. Kao pursed his lips. “Yes. I see your point.”
“Then you understand?”
“Understand what?” Kao asked.
They can see the past if someone points it out to them, but they can never see the application now. Why am I so farsighted and why are others so blind?
“I brought you out here on the pack ice and in the hovertank for a reason,” Nung said.
“I accepted the demonstration for a reason,” Kao said. “So we could speak without worrying about eavesdroppers or listening devices. Now tell me your point. I’m cold beyond belief and want to get to my plane so I can return to Beijing.”
“The Army plan is too complicated,” Nung said. “You have endless phases with engineer-built airstrips, thousand-mile-long ice-roads and hastily-constructed bases in the middle of the Arctic Ocean. Your suggested air-traffic will alert the Americans long before we reach the northern slope of Alaska. The enemy has recon satellites—”
“Forgive me for interrupting your dissertation,” Kao said. “But the Air Force has agreed to destroy the enemy reconnaissance satellites.”
Nung struggled to control his temper. “Such elaborate phases or steps will alert the Americans. They will airlift reinforcements to the oilfields before our planned approach reaches U.S. soil.”
“It is why you will need the build-up of supplies, planes, soldiers and snowtanks,” Kao said.
“No, no,” Nung insisted. “The plan’s very deliberateness will bring about what you most fear. We will end up fighting a war of attrition, with our main rallying points on the exposed ice. A single nuclear missile could open the ice under our feet and lose us everything.”
“Our laser-armed jets will protect you from nuclear missiles. Even now, they are being winterized so they can operate in Arctic conditions.”
“Can they protect us from a remote-guided submersible carefully maneuvered underneath us, igniting a mushroom cloud?” asked Nung.
In shock, Kao stared at Nung.
“I see you haven’t considered that,” Nung said. “It may not even take such a submersible. The laser-armed jets you’re speaking about are larger than our heavy cargo planes. It would take very special ice-runways to accommodate them for long. The planes are suitable for the continental defense of China, but I doubt their coverage in the polar Arctic.”
“There are means for thickening ice to support heavy aircraft,” Kao said.
“And the enemy submersible?” asked Nung.
“If the Americans use tactical nuclear weapons,” Kao said, “they will face heavy retaliation. They know that our strategic ballistic missile and laser defense is far superior to theirs. I do not fear their tactical nuclear weapons. What I fear is your brashness, General. If it were up to me, I would replace you. I fear that you will attempt another of your cavalry raids. The Americans are not Siberians.”
Nung seethed inside. The others called him a peasant because he didn’t paint and lacked their connections. Instead, he used his head, but they couldn’t hear him because he wasn’t a mandarin like them. He was sick of anyone telling him that Siberians weren’t Americans. They did it in an attempt to belittle his stunning armor thrust to Yakutsk.
“Men are men,” Nung said.
“Ah, that is so brilliant and so insightful. Please, repeat it so I can memorize the saying and tell it to the Chairman. I’m sure he will appreciate your aphorism.”
“Sir, this attack calls for an all-out race to the northern slope. A small force of hovertanks moving boldly and quickly can accomplish what many brigades of slower formations will never achieve. Let me grab the oilfields and mine them with explosives. I will give you victory in less than a week.”
Kao shook his head. “Hovertanks are fragile instruments. They are useless in high Arctic winds and they cannot operate on rugged ground or on slopes. What if the wind howls for a week, grounding your hovertanks? You’d run out of supplies, or we would have to airdrop you more. That would certainly alert the Americans.”
“War is a risk,” Nung said. “The bold win by accepting the risks.”
“The wise win through strategy. As the great Sun Tzu says: He wins his battles by making no mistakes.”