“You turd!”
“You’ve been looking in your mirror, you asshole!”
This edifying exchange was not unusual. It merely signified that yet another day of “debate” had begun in the democratic life of the Li-fa Yuan, Taiwan’s legislature, between the Nationalist and Democratic Progressive parties. The subject of discussion was whether or not Taipei would contribute any of its well-equipped and superbly trained armed services to the U.N. force under the command of General Douglas Freeman. Taiwan, as the congressman, Shen, from Kaohsiung in the south put it, was caught between a “rock and a hard place” about what to do in the conflict between the U.N. — in effect, the United States — and China. If Taiwan did not contribute to the joint U.N. force, Congressman Shen pointed out, then Washington would be angry, but if Taiwan did furnish troops and materiel to the U.N. force, then Beijing would be furious. Indeed, Beijing had already cautioned Taiwan about getting involved on the American side. “Remember,” the Communist Chinese had warned them, “after the war you’ll still be there and we’ll still be here — only a hundred and sixty kilometers away. We can wait. Fen-shen-suei-ku—we will break your bones.”
A member of the Nationalist opposition party rose and suggested that if the government was too “gutless” to throw Taiwan’s hand in with the Americans, who, during the hard times of the fifties, had contributed enormous amounts of aid as well as putting the U.S. Seventh Fleet between Taiwan and mainland China to thwart a Communist invasion, then the very least Taiwan could do was contribute money to the U.N. cause.
“Like Japan!” a Nationalist party member charged, springing to his feet. “As gutless as Japan in the Iraqi War. War by checkbook!”
“You talk of war by checkbook! You, the ardent followers of Chiang Kai-shek!”
The joke was a pun on the English phrase “Cash My Check,” the name Harry Truman had given to Chiang Kai-shek. That such an aside could be made in the Li-fa Yuan, no matter that several legislators wanted to punch Mr. Shen in the nose for making it, was a measure of just how far — or, for the Nationalists, just how low — Taiwan had come in its surge to a multiparty democratic system.
“We’ll break your bones!” shouted another legislator in warning that there was a dire risk of war with the mainland should Taiwan assist the U.S. or the U.N. In any case, another warned, the Americans wouldn’t want a war on two fronts— Vietnam and Taiwan.
“On three fronts,” another legislator said. “Don’t forget the Spratlys — Beijing certainly hasn’t.”
In addition to risking war with the mainland, Taipei had another serious matter on its mind, namely the fact that because Taipei had prohibited direct offshore investment in the mainland economy, which would constitute a de facto recognition of Beijing, the only way in which Taipei businessmen could do business with the burgeoning entrepreneurs of the mainland was to either become petty smugglers or, if they were big investors, to funnel their money through middlemen in Hong Kong, such as Jonas Breem, within his South Asia Industries Group.
When the Taiwanese noninterventionist decision reached the White House, there was disappointment on the part of the President, but not surprise. Americans had not had to live under the guns of the PLA for almost half a century. However, among the Joint Chiefs of Staff there was resentment in view of the fact that U.S. forces and billions in foreign aid had helped Taiwan develop into one of the powerhouses of Asia with one of the highest levels, if not the highest level, of personal income per year. CIA chief David Noyer helped put the situation in perspective when he advised those present at the morning intelligence briefing that despite Taiwan’s official refusal to become involved in the U.N. stand against the People’s Republic of China, the Republic of China could still be helpful in maintaining and, where possible, activating its covert network on the mainland and in the South China Sea.
“Submarines?” the President inquired. “They only have four, and none of them are nuclear.”
The Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Reese, was impressed by the President’s recall of Taiwan’s status in the military balance of power.
“No, not subs,” Noyer said, “though I’ve no doubt they could prove useful in helping us with guarding our Japan-Vietnam convoys, and Beijing’d have no physical proof of their intervention. But what I mean, Mr. President, is their clandestine operations on the mainland — saboteurs. If they could help sabotage the Ningming-Lang Son railway in the south, we could sever the head of their logistics line.”
“For how long?” Ellman asked.
“Depends on what kind of job the Taiwanese agents can do. However long it is, it’ll help Freeman’s force.”
“Fine,” the President said. “But what if the Taiwanese are captured and talk?”
Noyer shrugged. “Beijing’s hardly going to go to war with Taiwan over that. Besides which, Taiwan’s agents on the mainland are mostly mainland Chinese. For most of them it’s not a matter of ideology — it’s just another way of making money.”
“Like the smuggling,” the President said, “that goes on between Fujian province on the mainland and Taiwan.”
Ellman suppressed a grin. The President was showing off. Fair enough — it wasn’t a bad idea now and then to let the Joint Chiefs and Noyer know that he knew more than he told them in his briefing papers. “And besides,” the President continued, “there’s already a tremendous amount of jealousy in China between the north and the more prosperous south. The northerners are seen as snobs in power, while the south is prone to much more capitalistic-type economic drives. And there’s one hell of a lot of resentment by the minority groups and the non-Mandarin-speaking groups against the north.”
All right, Ellman thought, that’s enough — we read the State Department memos too.
Even so, Noyer appreciated the President making the point. It was surprising how few congressmen fully appreciated the fact that there were serious divisions within China, which, if handled adroitly by agencies such as the CIA, could help the fight against the PLA.
The President turned to Noyer. “Have we enough operatives of our own in China?”
“No, sir. That’s why it would be good to have some liaison with Taipei on this.”
“We already have liaison with them,” CNO Reese cut in. “Unofficially, of course.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Noyer replied. “But I mean at the highest levels.”
“Such as?” the President inquired.
Noyer decided to press a little. In the firm it was called covering-your ass. “I mean, sir, that if we had the chief executive’s authorization to negotiate a deal with Taipei.”
The President was doodling on his desk’s leather-bordered blotter. “All right,” he replied. “You have the chief executive’s go-ahead, Dave, but I caution you that if it’s screwed up in any way, no one in this room’ll remember anything about authorization.” He looked at Ellman and the Joint Chiefs. “Is that understood?” They nodded their assent.
“We’ll be discreet,” Noyer put in. “I have just the person in—”
“No!” the President cut in. “I don’t want to know whether it’s animal, vegetable, or mineral. Nothing! Nada!”
They all smiled in agreement. They were the President’s men.
“Of course,” the President added, his tone much lighter now that the serious decision had been made to help foment trouble in South China — or anywhere else along General Wei’s and General Wang’s supply line—”knowing you, Dave, you’ll probably have one of their goddamn pirates representing us.”
There was hearty laughter except, Ellman noticed, from David Noyer, who merely smiled politely. “The main thing,” the President said, grasping Noyer affectionately on the shoulder, “is that we help Freeman. Until he gets up to proper strength over there with men and materiel, he’ll need all the assistance we can give him.”
It was the understatement of the year.