Two Peasants and a President (5 page)

“What have you got?” 

“We have a large contact closing on a group of fishing boats, Sir,” answered the lieutenant.  “It looks like it may be the Chinese frigate that has been harassing our fisherman.”

“Any communications yet, Lieutenant?”

“No, Sir.”

“Close to within three thousand yards of those fishing boats,” the captain said.  “Let’s see what our Chinese friend is up to.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Captain Santos was a career naval officer who had witnessed unima
g
ined changes in his years at sea.  Thirty years ago, when he was a midshi
p
man, a typical patrol might include an encounter with smugglers attempting to make a transit to a quiet cove where they could unload.  On rare occasions he might be required to assist in interdiction of pirates.   But in those days no one dreamed that China would one day claim as its own
,
waters nearly 1200 miles from its mainland.  Now, with their large and powerful surface fleet, it appeared they might soon enforce that
preposterous
claim.

“Oh, and Lieutenant,” the captain said in a tone that could not conceal his concern: “
C
ontact headquarters and advise them that we may have a situation.”

Aboard one of a small fleet of fishing boats that were plying their trade barely seventy miles off the coast of
Palawan
, the largest island in the sout
h
ern Philippines, the radio crackled. 

“Attention Philippine fishing vessel!  You have illegally entered w
a
ters belonging to the People’s Republic of China.  You are ordered to wit
h
draw immediately!” 

To these hardy fishermen, the presence of a Chinese warship so close to their country was both an insult and a cause for concern.  Their fathers and grandfathers had fished these waters for generations and not since Japan i
n
vaded the Philippines in WWII had peaceful fishermen been harassed like this.  International law was clearly on their side, but the international co
m
munity had thus far spoken only with words while the Chinese navy had spoken with guns.  In one such incident in the
Spratlys
, more than seventy Vietnamese sailors were killed south of
Chingua
Reef.  Only last week a
Chinese fishing vessel rammed into a
PetroVietnam
ship’s survey cables.

Felipe
Deserio
, whose brother’s fishing boat had witnessed a Chinese 100mm shell throw up a geyser of water barely 200 meters off its bow, had turned and fled.  That was in February.  Now his brother’s family was e
x
periencing the results of diminished catches, and although his brother would not say it, his eyes betrayed his feelings, feelings that some in his village thought it cowardly to back down, and had said so behind his back.

Felipe and his fellow fishermen had discussed this eventuality amongst themselves many times.  Some had said it was better to be alive and hungry than to join the fish, while others felt that if no one stood up to the Chinese, their demands would only escalate.  Some of the younger fishermen had spoken with bravado that it was better to resist than retreat with your tail between your legs.  When he had asked them how they planned to resist, their silence betrayed the fact that knives and nets are a pathetic defense against naval guns and missiles. 

Glancing down at his elderly radar scope, Felipe thought he detected another large blip, this one to the east and closing.  As he peered intently into the scope, the possibility that it might be a Philippine naval vessel crept into his thoughts.  But he suppressed the tiny kernel of hope that he felt germ
i
nating in his chest.  The Philippine navy is a navy in name only.  Its official name in
Filipino
is
Hukbong
Dagat
ng
Pilipinas
, literally, ‘Sea Force of the Philippines
.’
 
What force?
he thought.

With only two truly capable ships in its ‘navy
,’
it is little more than an insect on the hide of the elephant that is the People’s Republic of China. 

Aboard BRP Rajah
Humabon
, the communications officer handed the message from headquarters to Captain Santos.

“You are to shadow the Chinese frigate, but do not engage
–re
peat, do not engage.”  Santos smiled ruefully. 
Engage with what?
he thought to himself.  His elderly craft had nothing more powerful than older model 3” guns and would simply provide target practice for the modern Chinese ships which had anti-ship missiles in addition to their radar-guided guns. 

“Lieutenant Cruz, maintain heading to the nearest fishing vessel.”  The captain then toggled the switch that would allow the bridge to hear all co
m
munications on the current frequency.  He was greeted by a loud burst of static, followed by a voice that was clearly coming from the Chinese warship.

“Philippine warship; you are entering waters of the People’s Republic of China.  You are instructed to come about 180 degrees and withdraw.  Do you copy?”  The fact that the Chinese warship was so arrogant as to not even bother to identify itself in the accepted manner was not lost on captain Santos. 

With a resolve tinged with trepidation, the captain replied:  “Chinese
warship, this is BRP Rajah
Humabon
of the Philippine Navy.  We are cu
r
rently in international waters.”  Toggling off his microphone, he turned to his communications officer and said:  “Contact headquarters.  Advise them that we are being hailed and have been ordered to withdraw.”  The look on the face of the communications officer clearly betrayed the fear that he struggled to conceal.

“Philippine warship, I repeat, you have entered waters of the People’s Republic of China.  You are ordered to come about 180 degrees and wit
h
draw.  Do you copy?”

His anger rising, the Philippine captain swallowed bile as he stifled the urge to tell the Chinese voice to go to hell.  “Unidentified Chinese warship, this is BRP Rajah
Humabon
(PF-11) of the Philippine Navy.  I repeat, we are currently in international waters.”

Two minutes later, the scream of a 100mm shell followed by a geyser of seawater two hundred yards in front of the Philippine vessel announced the reply of the Chinese warship.

“Communications!” said the captain, careful not to betray fear in front of his officers.  “Notify headquarters that they have fired across our bow!” 

******

Admiral Francisco
Victoriano
had hurriedly dressed when the first call had reached Jose
Andrada
Naval Station in Manila.  He was pulling into the parking lot when news that the Chinese frigate had opened fire reached the base.  The officer of the watch turned when he heard the admiral’s heavy footsteps behind him.

“Admiral,” he said.  “The Chinese have fired a second shot across Captain Santos’ bow, Sir!”

“Get him on the radio, Lieutenant,”
ordered
the admiral.

“I can’t, Sir,” replied the lieutenant.

“Why the hell not?” bellowed the admiral.

“Because he doesn’t answer, Sir.”

6

March 10
th
 
2013 –
08
00 –
Seahorse S
hoal –
Spratly Islands
–
So.
China Sea

The search had begun before dawn when the Philippine Navy’s most recent acquisition, the former US Coast Guard Cutter Hamilton, now named Gregorio del
Pilar
(PF-15) left
Cavite
Naval Base.  Ironically, though her young sailors had never seen combat in the South China Sea, their cutter had, having served off the coast of Viet Nam.

There was little conversation on the bridge as the cutter neared the last known position of the Rajah
Humabon
.  Not only was her fate foremost in the minds of all aboard, but China’s role in what had happened and their next moves ensured tension throughout the ship.  A naval patrol plane had r
e
ported that a Chinese frigate was approximately 150 kilometers north of Seahorse Shoal, which would put its guns far out of range but possibly not its missiles, though no one knew for sure since the Chinese had been updating their weapons systems at an alarming rate. 

Captain Antonio Vega was scanning the waters with binoculars when he noticed the sunlight glinting off something floating about 500 yards off the
starboard
bow.

“Helmsman, come right five degrees,” he ordered.

The object turned out to be a floating cooler, likely not from the Rajah
Humabon
, but what he saw next most assuredly was.  A uniform-clad corpse bobbed forlornly on a nearby swell. 

7

March 11
th
2013  –
  0730  –  White House  –
Washington DC

The president was half way through his morning briefing when an aide entered the room and handed him a written message, which he scanned, then read aloud.

Early on the morning of March 10
th
, Philippine time, a Philippine naval vessel, the Rajah
Humabon
, was challenged, it is thought, by a Chinese fri
g
ate.  The Philippine ship radioed that two shots had been fired across its bow.  Subsequently,
Cavite
Naval Base lost contact with the vessel.  A search has turned up bodies and wreckage presumably from the Rajah
Humabon
.

“Damn
!” the president muttered.  He looked downward in thought for a moment, then turned to his aide.  “Are we certain the Chinese actually sank the Philippine vessel?” he asked.

“Not at this time, Mr. President.”

The president glanced over at Thomas Benedict, CIA Director, who simply shook his head, signif
ying that this was the first he’
d heard.  He then turned to the Secretary of Defense, Melvin Larimer:  “Any thoughts?”

“Mr. President, last year alone the Chinese captured 17 Vietnamese fishing boats with some 210 fishermen while they were fishing off the coast of Viet Nam.  In December Japan's coastguard arrested the captain of a Chinese fishing boat fishing there illegally.  The captain claims he was rammed by a Japanese coast guard vessel.  I could quote a number of other incidents, but the bottom line is that China’s foreign minister has stated plainly that the e
n
tire South China Sea belongs to China and they appear to be systematically provoking confrontations to show that there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

“Frankly, Mr. President,” interjected James Langley, his national s
e
curity advisor, “there
isn’t
a damn thing we can do about it.  This is as much about poking us in the eye as it is about asserting territorial claims.  While they’ve been busy building a blue water navy, we’ve been busy paying for it by buying their products and then borrowing our money back from them.”

The president shot him a glance that made it clear he was irked
.  He was fully engaged in increasing the scope and power of the federal gover
n
ment to an unprecedented level
and didn’t like being reminded of global r
e
alities, especially when they concerned the source of much of the money he was using for his expansion. 
R
ather than adapt to reality, he seemed dete
r
mined to instead bend reality to his views.  He was a typical ideologue, a
r
rogant and self-important, a person whose paternal and condescending view of the world led him to make dangerous miscalculations.  

Not since Woodrow Wilson had a US president seen as his mission the establishment of ‘world governance
,
’ a top down sys
tem in which the ‘elite’ decide
what is best for the rest.  As with Communism, the elite are chosen by each other, conveniently eliminating the archaic and risky custom of holding elections. 
The Speaker of the House, from his own party, had gone so far as to say in front of the cameras: “Elections really aren’t very important.” 
The election that had propelled him into his current position had served its pu
r
pose, and now he was devising a way to wean his flock away from the idea that they needed to concern themselves with the workings of ‘their’
g
over
n
ment.  Just one more successful election and he would have ample opport
u
nity to consolid
ate his power and complete his
transformation.