![]() Ten days into this crisis, the strategy of de-escalation seemed to be failing. This excerpt appears in the February 2021 issue. And lastly, he imagined their own country and its navy possessing unfettered control of the South China Sea, a goal generations in the making. He imagined the Politburo Standing Committee brokering a deal with their Iranian allies to release the downed F-35 and its pilot as a means of placating the Americans. He imagined the surviving crew members of the John Paul Jones recounting how they had been spared by the Zheng He. Then, being in a pensive mood, Minister Chiang held forth on his vision of events as they might unfold in the coming days. ![]() Minister Chiang then complimented Lin Bao on his effectiveness as the American attaché, noting how well he'd managed the baiting of the John Paul Jones with the Wén Rui, and how American culpability in the seizure of that intelligence vessel disguised as a fishing trawler would undermine the international outcry that was certain to begin at the United Nations and then trickle from that ineffectual international organization to others that were equally ineffectual. The point here is not to start a needless war but to get the Americans to finally listen to us, to respect the sovereignty of our waters.” Who would deliver it? Who would tell the story of what happened? But by sparing a few survivors, by showing some restraint, we will be able to send our message more clearly. If the entire flotilla was destroyed, if it disappeared, the message would be lost. “He wasn't sent to sink three American warships that was not his mission. “This is what Ma Qiang doesn't understand,” he said with an amused half smile. Minister Chiang leaned back in his armchair. “Aristodemus,” said Lin Bao, “was the only Spartan who survived to tell the story.” ![]() If you buy something using links in our stories, we may earn a commission. The Spartan king, Leonidas, having no use for a blind soldier, sent Aristodemus home before the Persians slaughtered what was left of his army. The story went that in the days before the final stand of the famous Three Hundred, Aristodemus was stricken with an eye infection. He'd learned it at the Kennedy School, in a seminar pompously titled “The History of War” taught by a Hellenophile professor. He knew the story of Aristodemus, that famous Spartan who was the sole survivor of the Battle of Thermopylae. You must've learned the story of Aristodemus.” What the true purpose of that mission was hung in the air as an unanswered question, one that Lin Bao wouldn't dare ask aloud but instead asked through his silence, so that Minister Chiang continued, “Tell me, Lin Bao, you studied in the West. However, he doesn't understand the true purpose of his mission.” Minister Chiang arched an eyebrow. By sparing the John Paul Jones, he believes that I've denied him a prize. Like so many military officers, he doesn't understand nuance. But his effectiveness can also be his weakness. “Ma Qiang is an excellent commander, decisive, efficient, even cruel. Not knowing how to answer, Lin Bao pretended that he hadn't heard, which caused Minister Chiang to ruminate a bit about why he'd asked. He never imagined that someone in Minister Chiang's position would concern himself with the emotional state of a subordinate. “Do you think your friend Admiral Ma Qiang is upset with me?” How she wished they would stop taunting her, that they would stop their impudent circling, drop their ordnance, and allow her to go down with her ship. She glanced up, at the twin attack planes from the Zheng He. She did this so her crew wouldn't despair at their captain's inactivity and so that she herself wouldn't have to imagine the water slipping over the mast. She tried to occupy herself-checking and rechecking their inoperable radios, dispatching runners for updates from damage control, replotting their position on an analog chart, since anything that required a GPS had failed. ![]() As the weight of the water contorted the steel hull, it creaked mournfully, like a wounded beast, as minute by minute it came closer to buckling. Although they'd contained most of the fires on the John Paul Jones, they were taking on more water than they could pump out. This was the fate that would soon befall her and the surviving members of her crew. She'd only watched, helplessly, as each was crippled and then sunk. Hunt hadn't heard from the Levin or Chung-Hoon either. Commander Morris hadn't been seen since the second impact. Her full attention remained where it had been since the first torpedo hit the day before. Captain Sarah Hunt couldn't waste her time on speculation. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Details
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |