“Right now we have five U.S. CVBGs either deep in the area or on their way. That’s essentially to protect the Indians, and make those seas safe again for the continued orderly conduct of the world’s oil and gas trade. By now, most of that’s routine and under control. However, in the early hours of this morning there was a development that I did not like. An unladen Japanese-registered tanker suddenly blew up at the north end of the Malacca Strait. I have reason to believe it was hit by a torpedo from a Chinese Kilo-Class submarine.
“I believe that Kilo was refueled at the new Chinese Navy Base in Burma on the Bassein River Delta. I further believe it’s on its way back there right now. But that’s just a sideshow.
“The real problem is China. Her intentions. The depth of her involvement in the mining of the strait, and her ambitions in the Arabian Sea, the gulf area, the Indian Ocean and in particular the Bay of Bengal….”
He paused, and no one spoke. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I am quite certain that if we do not chase China out of those oceans, we will live to regret it. Remember, they have been passive in terms of sea power for more than five hundred years, just running a coastal Navy to protect their own shores.
“But not anymore. They’re plainly in an expanionist mode, acquiring submarines, destroyers and a couple of aircraft carriers from the Russians. They’re building a new ICBM submarine platform, and they are pushing westward. That new oil refinery of theirs south of Bandar Abbas gives them an excuse to send protective warships into the Arabian Sea. And that new base in Burma has given them a home port from which they could essentially control the oil routes through the Malacca Strait. That’s all the oil routes to the west and north Pacific.”
Admiral Morgan paused again. And then he growled, “Gentlemen, these guys are not just stepping lightly on our toes. They’re running us over with a fleet of fucking rickshaws, and I’m not having it.”
Jack Smith and General Scannell both smiled, and Harcourt Travis laughed out loud. “Arnold,” he said, “you have such a way with words. You really should have considered the diplomatic service.”
Everyone in the room knew the suave Secretary of State was not entirely enamored of the President’s crusty National Security Adviser. And, some thought, the diplomat’s calm, thoughtful intellect was a very good foil for the irascible ex-nuclear submarine commander. But the Admiral’s mind was invariably superior, and he had won almost every one of their exchanges down through the years, even if he did occasionally sound like a Master Sergeant in an ugly mood.
“Hey, Harcourt, old buddy. Glad to hear you’re still sharp, because right now I want you to give me an assessment. If you wanted to chase the Chinese out of the Indian and Arabian Seas, what action would you consider taking?”
“You mean as an American?”
“Christ, no. As an Ethiopian.”
This was too much for both Jack Smith and General Scannell, who both burst out laughing. Bob MacPherson and Admiral Dixon tried to restrain themselves. And even Harcourt permitted himself a deep chuckle — restrained, of course.
“You see, Harcourt,” Arnold Morgan said, smiling, “that’s the trouble with you Foreign Service guys…you’re always looking for the extra half sentence, to give yourselves an extra few seconds to think…it’s just a habit…. Yes, Harcourt, as an American. You got it the first time.”
“Well, first of all, I’d go and pray at the tomb of my former Emperor Haile Selassie, the Lion of Judah. Then I guess I’d come right back and advise you to blow the bastards right out of the water. Is that sufficiently primitive?”
“Harcourt,” replied the Admiral, unsmiling, his bright blue eyes narrowing dangerously, “I like it.”
At which point everyone laughed some more, but it was edged with nervousness, like telling a joke before an oncoming disaster. The Navy are good at that. In World War II no U.S. ship was ever blasted by bombs or torpedoes without one of the survivors observing, “Guess you shouldn’t have joined if you can’t take a joke.”
The Admiral quickly regained his stride. “I’m talking politically…. You know our problems — the Iranian Naval base at Bandar Abbas, the new Iranian refinery, right there next to the warships, the Sino-Iranian refinery, effectively owned by the Chinese, just along the coast, and the new Chinese Naval Base and refueling docks on the Bassein River. All four of those installations represent a giant pain in the ass, not just for us, but for all nations that require oil and gas….”
Harcourt Travis nodded, an air of caution written right across his face. “Arnold,” he said, “I do not think we could just cold-bloodedly take out the Iranian base at Bandar Abbas. However covertly we moved, everyone would know it was us, and I think it would be construed as a blatant act of war. However, I think we would hold on to world opinion if we hit any warship we judged to be a threat to the free passage of shipping through the gulf.”
“Uh-huh. And how about the Iranian refinery?”
“Bad idea. If the situation in the gulf turned really ugly, we might just need the oil out of that refinery. We might even need to seize it. Let’s not destroy it, however pissed off we might be at the Ayatollahs.”
“And the new Chinese refinery?”
“That’s different. Because that refinery gives the People’s Liberation Army-Navy a reason to be operational at the western end of the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea. I’m not saying we go in and blast the place to smithereens, probably starting World War Three. But if that refinery was to…er…become disfunctional after some kind of…er…problem, well, I guess a lot of people would be pretty relieved.”
“And the base on the Bassein River?”
“That,” said Harcourt, flatly, “has gotta go.”
“Any drift on the state of mind of the Burmese government? Or Myanmar, or whatever the hell they call it?”
“Well, you know it’s a military junta, Arnie. It’s in power regardless of the results of democratic elections. And recently they appear to have become much less friendly toward the Chinese. But the Big Dragon sits right against their back door, and the Big Dragon has built roads and even railroads right through the country to the port cities on the Bay of Bengal. The Chinese have armed the Burmese military, sold them God knows how much hardware on long lines of credit. I’m afraid the Burmese are in too deep to get out. We’ll get no help from them. You want to get rid of that Chinese base, you’re on your own. But you’d have some cheerleaders in India.”
“They still pissed off about the tracking station on Great Cocos Island?”
“Very, very pissed off. The Chinese installed it with extreme cunning and furtiveness. Then they put an airstrip in there. Now they can pry deep behind India’s eastern coastline. Myanmar says the Seventy-fifth AF Radar Squadron is theirs, but everyone knows it’s Chinese. They probe straight across the Bay of Bengal and record all takeoffs from Calcutta Airport and any military airport along the coast. The Indians call them the Chinese Checkers.”
Bob MacPherson, another veteran of this Republican administration, interjected here in support of the Secretary of State. “There’s more trouble in that region than even we realize. The Chinese have spy ships all over the Bay of Bengal, and that’s thanks largely to their base on Haing Gyi Island. It would be a hell of a lot more difficult for them if it wasn’t there.”
“Trouble is,” said Harcourt, “that Burmese coastline is so damned strategic. The Cocos Islands are only just in Burmese waters, right on the Cocos Channel, the main seaway for every merchant ship bound for eastern Indian ports and Bangladesh.