Calls upon the Federation of Malaysia, the United States of America, the Sultanate of Brunei, member States of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations, and all other concerned States to begin intensive negotiations for the peaceful resolution of their differences,
Decides to meet again as necessary to consider further steps to ensure compliance with this resolution.
The resolution carried, with fourteen for, one against (Indonesia), and two abstentions (China, Japan). If China had vetoed the resolution, Malaysia's annexation of Brunei would have been a done deal, and the fragile "New World Order" could like it or lump it. Diplomatic pressure cut no mustard with the Chinese Communists. But in the days before the vote, chief executives of the major Western and Japanese banks and oil companies had called their Chinese contacts with a simple, back-channel message. If the takeover of Brunei went unchallenged, there would be no credits for any offshore oil development in the South China Sea, regardless of territorial claims by any power in the region. The Communist Chinese may have been true believers in Marxism-Leninism, but they weren't stupid.
Aboard USS Bon Homme Richard (LHD-6), PHIBRON 11, September 12th, 2008
Channel 6 of the Fleet Broadcast Satellite Net was carrying CNN, and the staff of the ARG had gathered in the wardroom at this absurd hour to watch the live feed from UN Headquarters halfway around the globe. The betting was about even. Half the officers figured Malaysia would back down, given the lesson that had been taught to Iraq some fifteen years earlier. Half expected immediate orders from CINCPAC to begin planning for the liberation of Brunei.
Colleen Taskins had not made Colonel in the Marine Corps by hoping for the best. She was the first female MEU (SOC) commander in the history of the Corps. She fully expected the worst, and she was about to get it on her first command cruise. The 31st MEU (SOC) and PHIBRON 11 had no orders yet to retake Brunei, but good commanders anticipate events, and she was trying to do that now. She gathered her staff for a late-night planning session. When the orders came down the chop chain from CINCPAC, her Marines and sailors would be ready.
American Embassy, Manila, the Philippines, September 14th, 2008
Crown Prince Omar Bolkiah and the colonel of the 7th Gurkhas were seated in the embassy conference room, being briefed on the plan for the liberation of Brunei from Malaysia. The young man thought it odd that others would talk so clinically in front of him about fighting for his country and his people. But Colonel Rai had counseled the young Prince that this was the way of soldiers. Although the Americans were talking about his country as if it were a chessboard, they had every intention of giving it back. This, the colonel said, was exactly what they had done back in 1991 for the A1 Sabah family in Kuwait, and they would do it now for him.
On the large-screen projector appeared a series of viewgraphs, with smaller insert screens in the corners for each of the major participants in the briefing. One of them was dedicated to the impassive face of the Crown Prince, while the others showed the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the CinC Pacific Forces, and the commander of the 31st MEU (SOC), Colonel Taskins. The Prince wondered about entrusting his country to this pixie-faced woman, but she seemed to know her business, and the others on the screen were showing her respect.
The Americans called the forthcoming operation Tropic Fury. He wondered how this one would be remembered-as a triumphant liberation, like Desert Storm, or an abysmal failure like Eagle Claw, the raid to rescue American hostages in Iran. But Tropic Fury looked like it had a chance. Colonel Rai called it a "rock soup" approach, which meant that they would start with very little and try to feed more into the effort if the initial assault worked. He was amazed that the Americans seemed to have thought about this kind of problem so thoroughly, and then remembered how they had been humiliated in the 1970s. The Americans' ability to enforce their will was based upon long experience in such affairs, and he promised himself that he would learn more than a new tennis swing from his time here in Manila.
White House Briefing Room, Washington, D.C., September 15th, 2008
"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States!"
The press room was jammed to capacity for a major policy announcement on what was becoming known as the South China Sea Crisis. Along with the usual Presidential media personnel were the Secretaries of State and Defense with an easel full of briefing charts. The TV lights were running hot when the President arrived, and he moved quickly into his presentation. After a short introduction reviewing events of the last few days, he got to the point.
"…therefore, the United States, in conjunction with the United Nations, is declaring a complete military and economic embargo of Malaysia. The Government of Malaysia has until midnight tonight, Eastern Daylight Time, to clear all air and maritime traffic to and from Brunei, or the U.S. will use force to enforce the embargo. In addition, Malaysia has just five days to withdrawal from the territory of Brunei and allow the return of the Sultan, or measures will be taken to evict them. This is the only warning that will be given, and there will be no negotiations. We have not created this situation. Malaysia has. Now let them solve it, or we will do it for them. That completes my statement. The Secretaries of State and Defense will now field any questions you might have. Good day, ladies and gentlemen."
He turned and headed offstage to cries of, "Mr. President???" from a hundred reporters.
USS Bon Homme Richard (LHD-6), Somewhere in the South China Sea, 1100 hours, September 16th, 2008
"Jeez, it's like a whole city of oil tanks. How are we supposed to fight in that?" the Lieutenant said. From the piers of Kuala Belait to the wellheads and pumping stations of Seria, 20 mi/32 km east, the coastal strip was a continuous landscape of immensely valuable and extremely flammable petroleum facilities, punctuated by the flames of a few flare stacks, in fields where it was too much trouble to collect the natural gas for liquefaction.
"With these, Lieutenant," Major Bill Hansen said, tossing a small but surprisingly heavy, round flat bag on the table.
"Excuse me, sir. My Marines are going into combat against guys who have live ammo, and we're supposed to shoot back with beanbags?"
"Non-lethal projectiles, Lieutenant. They're called Flexible Batons, and don't underestimate these things — they'll knock down a horse at twenty paces. And we're going to use these in the shotguns and grenade launchers until we're at least five hundred yards inland from the oil facilities."
The kid was too young to remember the fires of Kuwait. The Major had been there, and he never wanted to see anything like that hellish landscape of smoke and flame again. He patiently explained the rules of engagement for fighting in an oil field. The lieutenant would lead his company through the basics of combat-shotgun refresher training in the morning.
"Anyhow, we don't think you'll be going up against real soldiers in your LZ," the major said. "The oil company security guards are basically rent-a-cops, and we're trying to convince Shell to pull them out in any case."
"Well, sir, I've met some pretty bad-ass rent-a-cops."
"I'm sure you have, Lieutenant. I'm sure you have…." The kid had grown up on the mean streets in South LA. He had probably been shoplifting from liquor stores at an age when the major was learning to tie knots in the Cub Scouts. Now he was a Marine, one of his Marines. He was pleased to have such a man under his command.