Crucible in Asia

By Clint Granger

Dave Jackson, an agent of U.S. Intelligence, returns to the Far East for confrontations in Japan, South Korea, Taiwan and mainland China - and encounters a familiar and clever adversary to peace in Asia. While fiction, the story is rooted in current geo-political realities. Only the names are changed to protect the innocent - if there are any.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479768059

Clint Granger

Clint Granger learned to fly at age sixteen. He graduated from West Point, commanded Infantry units from platoon through brigade in combat in Korea and Vietnam, earned a master’s degree in international affairs from George Washington University, was honor graduate from the Naval War College, served as Deputy Director, International Affairs in Department of the Army at the Pentagon, and as Director of the Planning Staff for the National Security Council and Deputy Assistant to the President in the White House. He lives in New Hampshire.

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Copyright © 2012 by Clint Granger.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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CONTENTS

Prologue   Across The Pacific

Chapter One   Japan

Chapter Two   The Ginza

Chapter Three   Mount Fuji

Chapter Four   Sendai

Chapter Five   Seoul

Chapter Six   The Dmz

Chapter Seven   Violence Resumed

Chapter Eight   On To Taiwan

Chapter Nine   Taipei

Chapter Ten   On To China

Chapter Eleven   Beijing

Chapter Twelve   Earthquake Zone

Chapter Thirteen   Mongolia

Chapter Fourteen   Hong Kong

Chapter Fifteen   The Mysterious Orient

Chapter Sixteen   Beijing Again

Chapter Seventeen   Chinese Insights

Chapter Eighteen   Reporting In

Chapter Nineteen   Hainan Rockets

Chapter Twenty   Ancient Beijing Again

Chapter Twenty-One   On To Mount Everest

Chapter Twenty-Two   Tibet

Chapter Twenty-Three   Railway To The Clouds

Chapter Twenty-Four   Unseen Heights

Chapter Twenty-Five   The Hunters

Chapter Twenty-Six   Hong Kong

Chapter Twenty-Seven   Shanghai

Chapter Twenty-Eight   Beijing, Once Again

Chapter Twenty-Nine   Beijing—All Together

Chapter Thirty   Probabilities

Chapter Thirty-One   Change Of Plans

Chapter Thirty-Two   Clues

Chapter Thirty-Three   Debrief And Problems

Chapter Thirty-Four   Chinese Actions

Chapter Thirty-Five   Washington Again

DEDICATED TO

SHULI

JENI, TREY, BEV AND JAY

AND ESPECIALLY TO

GEORGE, THE BLACK LABRADOR DOG

AND

SAM, THE SEALPOINT SIAMESE CAT

OTHER BOOKS BY CLINT GRANGER

For Adults

Kurdistan

Cathay

High Asia

Shalom—Peace

Crucible in Asia

For Young Adults (and those who think young)

The Wild Blue

Future History

The Second Thirty Years War

Autobiographical

Falcon 6

The Story of a Soldier

In the 20th Century

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Clint Granger has enjoyed a full and varied life, which helped contribute to his views on history and historical fiction. Growing up in the Midwest, his outlook as a youth was conditioned by World War II, although he was still sixteen when the war ended—but he had started college and learned to fly.

At seventeen he was sworn in as a cadet at West Point, graduating in 1951. He selected Infantry as his branch with the Korean War already at its height. He qualified as a paratrooper, and was off to Asia.

Joining the 45th Infantry Division on Heartbreak Ridge in Korea, he formed his all-volunteer Raiders, and then commanded a rifle company, finally ending the war on the division staff.

When the war ended, he returned to the United States, and managed to convince Infantry Branch in the Pentagon that instead of a parachute Infantry role, he should be assigned to an armored division to learn how to employ armor. While the U.S. Army did not create mechanized Infantry for another decade, he wanted to earn the fundamentals.

Assigned to the 1st Armored Division at Fort Hood, Texas, he commanded an armored rifle company for a year, and was then assigned to the division operations staff for two more years. There he learned many of the fundamentals that shaped his tactical professional thinking. At this point he also started to write for the military press, something that he continued throughout his career as a soldier, with some forty-four published articles in the U.S., Canada, Britain, France, Germany, Italy, India, Japan and even the old Soviet Union (without permission, of course).

His military education continued over the years with the Infantry Advanced Course, the Command and General Staff College, the Armed Forces Staff College (run by the Joint Chiefs of Staff), and a final year at the Naval War College, where he was the honor graduate and also managed to complete his Master’s Degree in International Affairs from The George Washington University.

His tactical experience continued with two years in Vietnam, and included command of an Infantry Battalion Task Force, composed of the 2nd Battalion, 35th Infantry, reinforced with a tank company, an armored cavalry troop, an air cavalry troop (on semi-permanent loan from the 1st Cavalry Division), and a battery of 105mm artillery.

The last assignment in Vietnam was as the G3—Operations—for Task Force Oregon, which became the Americal Division—the largest division the Army has ever fielded, with 27,000 troops in five brigades.

Finally arriving at the Pentagon, he served with the Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations in several roles, including Chief of the Politico-Military Division.

Leaving the Pentagon, he returned to Korea to command the 3rd Brigade of the 2nd Infantry Division—the only brigade in the Army still considered in combat, and holding the key U.S. sector in the DMZ, facing North Korea at Panmunjom.

Returning to Washington, he headed a special State-Defense team created to support Jordan’s King Hussein, and helped reorganize and reequip their military to block Soviet Russian endeavors.

He then became Deputy Director, International Affairs, at Department of the Army, and was instrumental in U.S. efforts in Egypt, Morocco, Saudi Arabia, Israel and other key areas. In the last Israeli defensive war he was the Army member of the Department of Defense Middle East Task Group.

From the Pentagon he moved to senior staff at the White House as deputy to Kissinger and Scowcroft, and Director of the Planning Staff for the National Security Council. The President sent him with the Chief of Staff of the Army to Vietnam, arriving in time to see the final sad fate of South Vietnam, but escaping a few days before Saigon was occupied.

Retiring from the Army, he entered the business world, creating his own company—Sierra International Associates—and eventually turning to teaching at Southern New Hampshire University. He continued to write for publication, which he had done for half a century for military magazines, but turned to books instead of magazine articles.

He is blessed with five children, as well as grandchildren, great-grandchildren—and even a great-great granddaughter. His current writing is spurred by a brilliant lady, who is also his editor and inspiration—she appears as Shuli in the story SHALOM—PEACE.

PROLOGUE

ACROSS THE PACIFIC

Once again Dave Jackson had donned his blue U.S. Air Force uniform, squared his shoulders, and marched forth to see what new and exciting adventures might develop—all courtesy of the Defense Intelligence Agency.

While pilot’s wings adorned his chest, he reflected sadly that they might as well be broken—as he had managed to smash his F-16 into the ground a few years before, and was now denied his first love of flying a high-performance jet fighter. A kind Air Force did permit him to fly a variety of lighter aircraft—but no more of his beloved fighters.

However, he reflected, much of the role of the very expensive manned fighters had been assumed by drone aircraft. There were a many variations of military drones rapidly taking over some of the tasks once conducted by expensive fighters—so perhaps he had become almost obsolete anyway—at least that was a somewhat comforting thought—although few of his contemporary pilot friends would agree.

His F-16 crash had also left him with a slight limp. He had thought that his personal world was at an end when he lay prone in a hospital bed with one leg elevated in traction and twenty-five pounds of weights tugging to restore a degree of normalcy. Then, his hospital room had been visited by an older Air Force officer—who also had a slight limp—and he had been offered a new and exciting role in the Defense Intelligence Agency. That had led to an entirely new set of adventures.

Now he wondered just what his immediate future might bring. He had parked his little red sports car, and walked to the rather nondescript building where some of his other travels had started—but what might happen next?

The building looked a trifle more run-down than he recalled from his earlier visits. It was in severe contrast to some of the other glass and steel structures that surrounded it—new buildings that looked across the Potomac from Virginia at a glittering Washington.

He pushed open the somewhat grimy glass door, and was relieved to find that at least the air conditioning seemed to be operating. Washington and adjacent northern Virginia had never enjoyed a pleasant cool summer climate, and Dave had often wondered what had really inspired the Founding Fathers to locate the city named after the first President in a swamp—but of course it was proximity to Mount Vernon. The swamp had long since become parks and grand buildings—but the weather had not changed with the centuries.

Once again he looked about an almost deserted lobby. It did not even have the conventional building directory on the wall. There was nothing that might indicate what offices might be in the building, or where any might be located. Instead there was a battered green government-issue desk with a lone figure slumped in a chair behind it. The man who gazed at him was not the young, energetic, well-groomed and tidy security man one came to expect in office buildings throughout the United States, but a grizzled individual with a drooping moustache from another era of the Old West, with a weary expression—except for his eyes.

Hi, young fella… . Glad to see you made it back OK. The eyes carefully examined the uniform. See you got promoted, since you were just a major the last time I saw you.

Yes, thank you—but it’s been about a year since the last visit, and one does get older as the calendar flies by.

Well, you may be getting older, but you still look pretty fit, and I suppose the powers-that-be have some new and interesting travels for you.

That’s what I’m here to find out… . Would you like to see my identification?

Don’t bother… . I know you and the surveillance system up there knows you… . See, look here behind my desk. The guard, rose—far more actively than might have been expected—and pointed to a green light under his scarred desk. That means the folks monitoring the cameras, metal detectors and such, have already identified you—and agreed that you are supposed to be here.

What happens if there’s no green light?

The old guard straightened suddenly, and a .357 Magnum revolver appeared in his hand like magic. You remember my old faithful piece from an earlier visit?

Yes, I certainly do!

The revolver disappeared again. Well, it’s sort of an antique compared to the fancy new pistols you see these days—but it shoots where I want, so I don’t think I’ll ever change.

I quite agree, but—as you know—I’m not carrying a weapon.

Except for your damn non-metallic knives—but we know all about them, so I wasn’t bothered when they showed up… . But enough chatter. The folks inside are waitin’ for you. He waved generally at a stainless steel door behind his desk.

Dave nodded his thanks and tossed a relaxed salute to the guard, and another to whatever cameras might be watching—then marched to the steel door. He had not even touched the surface when the door slid smoothly back without a sound He continued through the doorway without even halting. While the outside lobby may have been shabby, the room he entered was modern, well-decorated with only a minimal bureaucratic appearance, and graced by a very lovely receptionist.

Welcome back Major—no, now Lieutenant Colonel—Jackson. It’s good to see you once again… . They tell me you have been leading an exciting life—other than the time you were exiled to the basement of the Pentagon, and smothered in paper—but, aside from that little touch of grey at the temples, you look—well—good.

Thank you Miss… . Who am I seeing today?

Well, it’s just familiar people—but they are already waiting for you, so you might as well just go right in. She pressed an unseen button, and another section of wall slid back. Faithful to his training, Dave marched straight through to face whatever fate might have in store for him.

First, seated to one side, he was pleased to see a familiar red-headed comrade in arms, Julie Ritchie. She was also a lieutenant colonel, but—as she had repeatedly reminded him—his senior by at least a year. And while Dave had graduated from the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, she had graduated from West Point a year earlier—and she had said soldiering was a far superior lifework than just flying big expensive jets. She said nothing initially at this meeting, but just grinned.

At least the figure behind the desk, who rose and extended a hand, was also familiar. "Good to see you back again, Jackson. You seem to be the penny that always returns—for which we are all most thankful—I hate sending people out on some of our missions when they do not return."

"The bad penny that always returns? . . . Yes, Mr. McCullough, I do seem to be lucky most of the time."

"Better, Dave, that you remember that my name is Dick, since we are getting to be old comrades. He nodded to his right. Of course you know Julie, who fought a few battles with you until she was elevated to the heights of the White House staff. He paused, Aside from leading a rather dramatic bayonet attack, you seem to be surviving very well."

Dave flushed, thinking he would never live down the caustic comments on his impetuous action that probably should never have happened—but which did seem to impress other people as being either the height of valor—or a completely foolish thing for someone in the intelligence business to have tried.

Yes, sir—but that’s all ancient history now… . What’s in the cards that led to our meeting here and now?

"Sit down, Dave, and let’s get down to business… . Julie here has a new fact-finding mission from the Director of the Planning Staff in the National Security Council—and the President has agreed… . In fact, I think she has found you some sort of a military icon, since you finished your last little task. Now she has taken a personal interest in having you look into just how some of our allies—and others—might feel about our future relations."

Where?

Northeast Asia, sort of encompassing a circle around the two Koreas, and including both Japan and China, and possibly further south, where there has been far too much saber-rattling.

That rather sounds like I’m going to war!

"Not really—just the usual fact-finding mission."

Julie tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her laughter. You and your damned fact-finding missions—they always seem to get you in trouble.

Are you going to be my boss on this one Julie? You managed to get into more trouble than I did on our last trip together.

No, Dave… . As part of the White House staff, I’m not expendable anymore.

And I am?

Well… not really expendable, but just not quite as sensitive.

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean… Where do I go—and when?"

I would like for you to be on your way in three days—or less, if that can be managed.

Then we had better get down to work on the specifics of my mission right now.

Right, Colonel Jackson.

^^^

It was several hours by the time they were finished, and Dave had grasped what his mission actually implied—and, perhaps more important, what was only hinted. Northeast Asia was a cauldron, with a simmering nuclear-armed North Korea with new untested leadership, a strong U.S. ally in South Korea, an aggressive looking China, and a very concerned Japan. The mixture could very well prove explosive.

Very well… . I’ve got it pretty well in mind, and will leave by commercial air in three days.

Dave shook hands with McCullough, and then turned to Julie. OK, I guess it’s all your fault—but would you join the condemned man for a last non-Asiatic dinner before you launch me across the Pacific?

Only if you buy me a Martini first.

They marched out of the building together.

^^^

CHAPTER ONE

JAPAN

It was not a new experience, but Dave had forgotten just how long the flight over the Pacific could be—then decided it could be a lot worse. It had taken many weeks in sailing ships, perhaps ten days in a more modern ship, and twenty-five hours in the air in propeller-driven aircraft, not long before Dave’s time. Best, he thought, to just count his blessings while riding in a jet-powered airplane.

Looking about the aircraft—he decided that the blessings included a very attractive and shapely stewardess, who seemed to be ever helpful in refilling his coffee cup. But then he thought back on the immediate past, and remembered a very beautiful and courageous lady of the Israeli Mossad, and decided that while a common future with that red-headed bundle of energy might never come to pass, that memory was more important than the present.

He slumped back in his sea, gazing out of the window, until chimes and a flashing sign reminded the passengers to straighten their seats, fasten their seat belts, and prepare for landing.

Indeed, he reflected, Japan is, in its entirety, the tip of a rather volcanic mountain range, sitting atop the Western Pacific ring of fire where tectonic plates slide apart, and eruptions, earthquakes and tsunamis are not that uncommon. He thought briefly of the Japanese nuclear power plant disaster that had resulted from the combined onslaught of an earthquake and a tsunami—life held a great many dangers beyond those directly attributable to man.

The aircraft turned into the final approach to the Tokyo airfield. The thump of the landing gear coming down terminated his reflections on history, but he also understood that Japan was still a major player in the power equations in the Pacific. Gazing from his window, his thinking continued. American containment was perhaps better described as a forward deployed defense against a China that had completed its first aircraft carrier, with two other carriers under construction, and a huge—and rapidly becoming more sophisticated—Chinese military.

Was China considering global expansionism? Anything was always possible, and, even if not now, perhaps in the future?

Dave thought about his Chinese friends. Lee Jung had been a close friend and ally on a previous mission to Asia, and his father was a member of China’s Central Committee. Jung had also been a friend in another adventure in Central Asia, and there was a bond based on shared fighting together as close allies against a Muslim conspiracy—but was Jung’s friendship beyond his allegiance to China? No, thought Dave, not any more than my allegiance to the United States would ever be compromised by any personal relationship.

Dave considered the Chinese question further, and decided that whatever might have drawn him into his present mission, his earlier experiences with the Chinese and Taiwanese must have entered into the equation. After all, he chuckled, how many American intelligence people have been awarded a Chinese medal?

Then as the roar of the engines lessened, and the aircraft settled toward the Tokyo runway, he put aside his speculations.

^^^

The Tokyo airport was immense, and it took Dave some time to claim his baggage and pass through customs. He finally emerged into a giant reception hall, and looked about for some American presence to meet him.

His reception in Tokyo was close to the worst that Dave had ever predicted. As he entered the arrival hall, a small mob seemed to close in on him. It was a combined group, half American and half Japanese, but clearly a body with a single purpose.

One man led the pack, with an outstretched and. Hi! I’m John Norvell—also from DIA.

Another man also pressed forward. "Welcome to Japan… Judging by the reactions, you must be Dave Jackson… . In that case I’m Dain Milliman, from the Agency, and we have a pretty comprehensive group who are at least supposed to make sure you get to our embassy… . But let me first introduce Colonel Mizuho Fujisaki."

Dave prepared for a very formal introduction, even starting to make a rather semi-elaborate Japanese sort of bow, when he was startled with a broad Japanese face that just grinned, while a powerful hand offered an introduction.

Welcome to Japan! I’m Mizzy Fujisake—just think of Mount Fuji and a tasty glass of sake, and you’ll remember.

Thank you, sir—I’ll remember the name all right—but you sound almost more American than Japanese.

Oh sure… . My older brother is our ambassador in Washington, and I got sent to Texas Tech for an American-style education—and, like you, I’m just a lieutenant-colonel, so we can just hang out with no problem.

Milliman, the CIA man, backed away slightly. Now that you’ve met everyone, we ought to get you to the embassy.

Dave halted and looked around the group. "Hey, guys, I’m really underwhelmed by all this—I would feel pretty damn safe wandering around Tokyo all by myself—it’s a hell of a lot safer than Los Angeles—and I would just like to get settled in a hotel for right now."

Milliman looked a trifle hurt. We were alerted that you were under orders from the very top, and that we should look after you with great care… . Indeed, we are planning to give you a small guest suite at the embassy.

"That might make it a bit difficult for me to just talk to our Japanese friends, and that’s my mission here."

Norvell, the Tokyo-based DIA man finally tried to break the impasse. "Colonel Jackson, you know what your mission is, how you plan to do it, and probably who you want to talk to—and this is pretty damn foolish standing here in the middle of the damn airport, trying to figure out who should be baby-sitting you.

If you are agreeable, and especially since you are assigned to DIA, we will take care of you while you are here in Japan. We will welcome the CIA, the U.S. Air Force, and most certainly the Japanese—it is their country, after all—to share in all the good will.

Fujisake just grinned at the competing U.S. intelligence people. That sounds quite reasonable to me, as your host of sorts… . You pick a hotel, and we’ll be glad to do whatever might be needed to keep you safe, and to arrange all the meetings and such that you might wish.

Milliman was not quite finished. I know you want to talk to our Japanese hosts, but the American ambassador wants to talk to you.

Right now?

Well, sometime in the next few days.

"In that case, I’ll let Mizzy pick out a safe hotel… . John Norvell here can add to the Japanese security, if that’s considered necessary—and then, when the ambassador has time to chat in a couple of days, perhaps I will have learned a little bit that might interest hm… . And, of course, Dain, you can add whatever CIA people you might like to that mix.

"Right now, we are making a hell of a scene in the middle of a