Dragon Sim-13 (12 page)

FOB, Osan Air Force Base, Korea Saturday, 3 June, 0932 Zulu Saturday, 3 June, 6:32 p.m. Local

Riley and Mitchell were both unhappy with the short amount of time the team would have on the ground prior to the target hit. Twenty-four hours of surveillance was not sufficient to establish a valid pattern of guard patrols and other security measures. Despite that, Riley had expected the denial from SFOB. This whole operation was so tightly organized that he had doubted there would be any latitude built in.

Something even more important was bothering him. He grabbed Mitchell and took him out into the corridor, where they couldn't be overheard.

"What's the matter, Dave? Worried about the time line?" Riley shook his head. "Not really. It's tight, but we can do it. What's bugging me is whether this is real or not. The whole thing is kind of crazy, don't you think?"

Mitchell obviously felt the same way. "Yeah, it is strange. I've got a lot of questions about this whole setup. My primary concern, if this isn't just an exercise, is why the hell we're doing this. I mean, what's the purpose? As far as I know we aren't at war with China and they haven't done anything against the United States to warrant such an action by us."

Mitchell had keyed in on just what had been bugging Riley. The whole operation had the ring of an exercise about it. But it had a disturbing hint of reality too. The intelligence and imagery were top-notch, much better than what they normally received for training missions. The presence of the MC-130 aircraft in the hangar on the base said that it was very likely they were going to go somewhere at the end of isolation. From their meeting earlier in the day with the Talon crew, Riley and Mitchell knew that the aircrew was really planning an infiltration into China.

The air force navigator and the pilot, Lieutenant Colonel Riggins, had been happy with the choice of drop zone when Mitchell pointed it out to them. It would be easier than land for them to find. The crew of the Talon had not been told the reason the team was jumping into China; they just knew they had to get the team there. In another part of the building, in their isolation area, the aircrew was working just as hard as Team 3, plotting possible routes and examining the potential air defense threats along the way.

Riggins had told them that the Talon would fly to the target following the terrain at 250 feet above ground level and at 250 knots. (Riley had been on that type of gut-wrenching flight before, and he planned on not having anything in his stomach prior to takeoff.) One minute out from the drop zone, the plane would slow down to a safe jump speed of 125 knots and the ramp would be opened. Thirty seconds from the drop zone the plane would climb to 500 feet, which was the minimum safe jump altitude. The pilot had insisted that this was his maximum altitude, based on the radar threat in the area. At 500 feet, Riley knew that they would not even bother wearing reserve parachutes. If the main didn't deploy, the jumper wouldn't have time to pull his reserve anyway. Immediately after the last jumper was out, the plane would close the ramp, go back down to 250 feet, and head for home.

Mitchell voiced a new concern. "What about the weapons and other gear? That worries me."

They both knew that Sergeant Major Hooker had gone up to Yongsan to draw sterile equipment from the detachment's war stockage. The authorization had come direct from the SFOB. Hooker was also drawing live ammunition and explosives. They had never seen that done before.

Riley took a deep breath to clear himself of all these worries. "I don't know if this thing is real or not, Mitch. Most likely it's just an exercise, but we need to make sure everyone treats it like it's real."

Mitchell nodded his agreement to that philosophy. "Let's stay on top of everyone and make sure they do their best."

They both looked up as Hossey came down the hallway. "What are you two plotting?"

Riley held up his hands. "Nothing, sir. Just needed to clear our heads."

Hossey held out a sheet of paper. "You'll get a briefing on the helicopters, but it won't be from the pilots. They're over in Japan right now, and the powers-that-be have decided not to fly the pilots over here for security reasons. Some staff officer from the helicopter unit flying will be here at 1000 tomorrow morning."

Mitchell nodded. "Sounds good, sir."

Riley said nothing. What were the helicopters doing in Japan? As far as he knew, the target was northwest of where they were and Japan was east. Hopefully they'd find out tomorrow.

Fort Meade, Maryland Saturday, 3 June, 1254 Zulu Saturday, 3 June, 7:54 a.m. Local

Meng scrolled the message traffic on his screen in Tunnel 1 and perused it while he sipped his first cup of tea for the day. When he came across it, he printed out a copy of the concept of the operation, which had come in from the FOB only an hour ago. With that in hand, he could start the final programming for the exercise. It was simply a matter of filling in the blanks. He would take the team's plan and flowchart it against the various possibilities that could occur. The computer would rate the paths in terms of probability. Meng knew that he couldn't cover everything, but the success of the Strams program rested on its ability to present a statistically significant percentage of possibilities in a realistic manner.

Just prior to the team's departure for infiltration, Meng would control the exercise by cutting the real commo link with the FOB and substituting a simulated FOB link to the computer. The computer would then play out the team and FOB conducting the mission. When Meng switched from real to computer link, the people in Korea would have completed the exercise. Right now, Meng planned on notifying the FOB of mission completion just before the aircraft took off for infiltration. That would allow him to pick up any last-minute changes that the team or aircrew might make. The purpose of the exercise was to test the command structure at Fort Meade, not the team or aircraft in the field.

Meng took the concept with him and went back to his office in time to catch the 8:00 a.m. news. The exercise was forgotten as the TV screen caught his attention. A reporter was standing on the edge of a massive crowd near Tiananmen Square. Night had descended in China, but the Goddess of Democracy was well lit in the background.

"Early this morning, crowds estimated to be in the tens of thousands surged onto the streets of Beijing and turned back an army column attempting to reach the center of the city. Approximately two thousand troops attempted to pass along Changan Avenue, a main east-west street in Beijing, in a show of popular support. Workers joined the students in preventing passage of the soldiers.

"The incident that precipitated the troop movement occurred last night when a police van struck four bicyclists, killing two and seriously injuring the other two. Rumor has it that this was a deliberate act. When the troops attempted to pass, the largest crowd we have seen here in more than a week took to the streets. There have been reports of tear gas being fired near the Communist party headquarters, but I have seen no signs of violence here at Tiananmen Square. The rumors are that the troops were coming to seize the square back from the students."

The anchorman in Atlanta cut in.

"Jim, did you actually see the troops?"

"Yes. They were dressed in white undershirts with khaki uniform pants, and were unarmed. They didn't seem comfortable with what they were doing. When confronted by the students and workers they appeared disoriented. I saw soldiers simply sit down on the curb along the road and talk with the students, who exhorted them not to use violence since they were from the People's Army and the students were the voice of the people."

"Jim, what effect do you think this latest turn of events will have on the government?" 

"That's uncertain at this time. There is the possibility it might help the more conciliative attempts of Mister Zhao by discrediting Prime Minister Li Peng's hard-line approach to the student protest. It appears from today's actions that the army is unwilling to follow a hard-line approach."

The scene shifted back to Atlanta. 'That was Jim Thomas in Beijing. On another front the Soviet Congress accused Andrei Sakharov of slandering his homeland and . . ."

Meng turned off the set. He knew quite a bit about the Chinese Army from his research for the Dragon Sims and from his personal experience. The fact that soldiers had seemed sympathetic to the students made him feel hopeful, but Meng also knew that the leaders of the army probably didn't share this sentiment.

There was a traditional Chinese saying that if the people want the leaders to notice, then they must do something difficult. Obviously, Meng thought, the students' hunger strike had not been difficult enough.

Meng sighed and looked at the clocks on his wall that designated the time zones for various major cities in the world. It was 9 o'clock at night in Beijing. There would be no more news until tomorrow.

The picture of the woman and child drew his attention. She was dead now. He'd received word of that four years ago. The boy was now a young man—a student at the University of Beijing. In his heart Meng hoped his son was one of the protesters gathered in the square, but that same hope was overshadowed by fear. Meng closed his eyes briefly, forcing his mind to shift from the square, thousands of miles away, back to reality here, or rather this simulation of a reality that would probably never be used. He turned back to his work desks.

As Meng started working on the concept of operations, the first thing that caught his eye was the water drop zone. Meng smiled thinly— a major sign of emotion for him. The Special Forces men were very clever. He estimated that that choice dramatically increased their odds of surviving the infiltration. His initial program had indicated a 26 percent chance that the team would be compromised on infiltration, either by the aircraft being discovered or the team being caught on the drop zone. Off the top of his head, Meng figured that that was now down to probably no more than 15 percent. This whole mission was looking more feasible.

FOB, Osan Air Force Base, Korea Saturday, 3 June, 1320 Zulu Saturday, 3 June, 10:20 p.m. Local

Mitchell decided it was time for everyone to get some sleep. They'd been working nonstop all day, and sleep was important if they were going to continue to function at a high level of proficiency. He went to the podium in the front of the isolation workroom and got everyone's attention.

"Listen up. Everybody grab a chair." He waited until the team had settled in, facing him. "I want to do a little summarizing of what we got done today, and then I want everyone to rack out. Tomorrow's another day. You all have done a good job so far."

He turned to Riley. "Anything new on the tactical plan?"

Riley shook his head. "Not much has changed since we had the last team brief on the concept of operations three hours ago. We're still working on breaching the compound and taking out the security systems. Infil is as you briefed it earlier. Tomorrow I should be able to tell you how we're actually going to hit the target."

Mitchell nodded. He indicated another team member. "Pete, anything you need to tell us from your medical survey?"

Devito, the senior medic, stood up. "I've ordered the medical supplies that each man will carry. I also want everyone to leave their vest survival kits with me prior to going to bed and I'll make sure they're up to date." Devito sat down.

Mitchell moved on. "O'Shaugnesy, how's the commo going?"

"Good, sir. I've got our onetime pads and I've coordinated with the FOB on send and receive times."

Mitchell pointed at the two radios resting on the commo man's work desk. "I want you to give everyone a class tomorrow on the PSC3. I know that most of us have seen it before, but I for one could use a refresher on how to set it up and use it."

O'Shaugnesy nodded. "OK, sir. They're real easy to work. I won't need more than forty-five minutes to run you all through."

Mitchell penciled in the class on the team's isolation schedule, posted on the wall behind him. "All right. We'll do it at 1300 tomorrow." He moved on to the next specialty, which for this mission was the most important. "Dan, have you got your charges all calculated?" 

Hoffman stood up. "Yes, sir. At least the ones for the actual target— you know, blowing the wires. We're still working on some other ones we might need to breach the fence and the mine field."

"I want you to be able to give a class to everyone, late tomorrow afternoon, on how to prime and emplace those charges. Will you be able to do it by then?"

"Yes, sir. No problem."

Mitchell addressed the rest of the room. "I want everyone to be able to use the radio and rig the charges. If just one of us makes it to the target, I want that person to be able to blow it." He glanced around the room. He hated holding long meetings and he could tell that everyone was tired. "That's all I've got for tonight, unless someone has a question or something they want to add."

Riley scratched his head. "One thing I would like to know is why we're hitting this pipeline. How important is it? Maybe that will give us an idea of why we're planning to do this."

Mitchell knew a little about the pipeline's significance from his initial work as the S-3 on the Typhoon oplan, but he wanted to let someone with more knowledge answer. "Dan, you've been working on this pipeline all day. What can you tell us about it?"

Hoffman pushed his thick glasses farther up on his nose and pulled a piece of yellow scratch-pad paper from the cargo pocket of his fatigue pants. "Well, sir, I think that someone did a damn good job in picking this pipeline as a strategic target, both for economic and psychological reasons. If you wanted to pick a target out of all of China to hurt them in both those areas, I really doubt that you could come up with a better one than this. Other than maybe the locks and dams that help control the Yellow River, but that's a target that fifty A teams couldn't hit.