Two Peasants and a President (58 page)

It was
a capable warship, to be sure, and
he
would not have been ho
n
ored with such a position had he not completed his training
and years of se
r
vice
with distinction.  But watching the fantails of the two great destroyers recede as they sped north was disconcerting, though he would never allow his subordinates to see it on his face.  He reminded himself that the Vietnamese frigates had been unable to prevent the submarine-launched YJ-82 anti-ship missi
le from slamming into the
container ship and sinking her.  And he ca
r
ried aboard the YJ-83, a missile with the capabilities of the YJ-82, but with considerably more speed. 

There was one other thing:
Captain
Geng
Huichang
had never killed anyone.  When he’d thought about it in the past, it had always been in the context of defending his country, something he knew he would do without hesitation.  But the convoy was hundreds of miles off the Chinese coast and even though his government had decided that almost a million and a half square miles of ocean bordering several
other
nations was its sovereign te
r
ritory, it didn’t make sense.  It reminded him of the actions of another nation in another time. 

In the 1930’s, Japan had invaded China on a pretext, the way most i
n
vasions begin.  What followed was bombing, rape, pillage, and murder on a grand scale, simply because Japan wanted something they didn’t have and decided to take it.  China suffered horribly, by its own account sustaining 35 million dead.  When WWII ended, there were still over 1 million Japanese
soldiers in China.  Captain
Geng
had thought about that many times and had come to the conclusion that China had no more right to the South China Sea than Japan had to China.  They simply wanted it.

Now he stood on the command
bridge of a powerful warship.  In minutes he would give an order that would result in the deaths of many men.  He could no longer put the reality of those deaths in the back of his mind
simply
because it was to have been
Admiral
Wu leading the taskforce
who
would
give
the order
to open fire
.  The admiral was steaming north
.  Now
he was in charge.  He had been ordered to attack a convoy and kill men who had harmed neither him nor his nation. 

Is this how all wars start,
he thought,
with men like me who are told to kill and do not have the courage to say no?  If I refuse to obey the order to murder, I will be relieved of my command and someone else will issue the order.  I will be shot and my family will suffer. My little son doesn’t even know what war is and yet by refusing to kill now, I would not affect the outcome out there on the water and I would destroy him as surely as I am about t
o destroy men I have never
met.  Is it always so?  Are we doomed to kill simply b
e
cause we are all too cowardly to say no?

“Captain, we are
within range of the convoy,” announced his first o
f
ficer.  “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to hand me the microphone, Lieutenant,”
Geng
answered.  The lieutenant watched his eyes as he handed him the microphone.  The captain did not return his gaze.  He stared out over the ocean as he lifted the microphone to his lips.

“Attention ships of the Vietnamese Navy and the merchant ship you are escorting.  The is the captain of the Frigate
Yulin
of the People‘s Republi
c of China.  You are
in Chinese wa
ters and are hereby ordered to prepare for boarding and inspection
.  Do you copy?”

“Chinese naval vessel, this is Vietnamese Frigate
Dinh
Tien
Hoang.  As you well know, we are in international waters and will proceed accor
d
ingly.”

Yes, you are right, my Vietnamese captain
, thought
Geng
. 
You have done no wrong and yet you are about to die for the egos of old men who will never even know your name. 

“Attention frigate
Dinh
Tien
Hoang.  This is your final warning. 
Heave to
or
you will
be fired upon.”

“We are prepared, Chinese dogs,” came the reply. 

Captain
Geng
Huichang
turned to his fire control officer.

“Prepare to fire two missiles from
Yulin
targeting lead Vietnamese warship and two from
Yuxi
targeting the second.”

“I have lock, captain,” announced the fire control officer.

“Fire!”

******

S
omething hit her shoulder from behind.  A woman had bumped into her, then glanced back with a look that said:
Watch out fool! 
It happened again and she realized that she was just s
tanding there, blocking traffic
.  Before she had always been moving with the flow, going somewhere like everyone else. 
Now she felt
somehow
out of place – in front of
her own apartment building. 

No one seemed to notice her, at least as long as she stayed out of the way.  Everyone was rushing by, just as they always did, none stopping to stare.  She was starting to feel calm again, as if there was nothing to be afraid of, as if what she had seen was only a dream.  Perhaps it was.  Maybe she
had
dreamed it.
But the image of the woman seated at the desk – and her words – would not fade.

A police car p
ut an abrupt end to that
.  It was nearing the spot where she stood, its
occupants looking her way.  Ming
wanted to flee, but to where?
It was in her apartment where she had listened to the sedition; it no longer promised refuge. 
She had almost turned to run down an alley when som
e
thing inexplicable happened.  A boy of perhaps fifteen emerged from the passersby and threw something at the police car, or rather in front of it.  Then he pivoted and ran. 

The officer behind the wheel twisted his head around and shouted as he hit the brakes.  There was a pop, followed by a hissing sound.  He cursed and banged the steering wheel with the heel of his hand before getting out and walking around the front of the car.  The left front tire was already sinking.  He picked up a small object and looked at it.  It appeared to be made of sharpened nails, bent and welded together so that a sharp point is always up.  He cursed again as he picked up several more in front of the car. 

Then a young woman stepped off the curb and handed him a folded paper, much as one might extend an invitation.  She stood smiling as he opened it. 

Please do not be angry.  We wish only that you pause to reflect that we are all Chinese - citizens with aspirations, hopes, families, precious children and revered elders.  Like people everywhere, we desire to be free to express ourselves and to choose our leaders.  We invite you to join us in peaceful change toward democracy for all. 

The officer was neither persuaded nor amused and he grabbed her wrist
and snapped a handcuff around it.  Spinning her around harshly, he cuffed her other hand behind her and shoved her roughly into the back seat.  Her smile was unchanged. 

“You are under arrest for crimes against the People’s Republic,” he said mechanically. 

Then he climbed back into the front seat and grabbed the microphone to call for backup in case there were other miscreants about and for prisoner transport.  Another car less than a quarter mile away responded, announcing that he would be there in approximately five minutes. 

A young couple approached the police car and, pointing out that she had done nothing wrong, asked that she be released.  The police officer r
e
sponded that he had more handcuffs for them too, but they did not back away.  Then an old man shuffled over to the officer and volunteered to take her place.  Soon there were more than a dozen people gathered around the car, all peacefully beseeching the officers to join them.  

Now becoming nervous and agitated, the officer called the other car to find out what was holding them up.  It was clear from the look on his face that the answer he received unsettled him.  It was then that he drew his sidearm.  The crowd surrounding him backed away but only a couple of meters.  Then they began to chant:

“Peace be to you, our friends.  Do not be afraid.  We desire only that you join us in our quest for democracy.”

The officer vacillated between fear and confusion as the crowd r
e
peated their chant but did not approach him.  The other car had informed him that they had a flat tire and could not assist him.  What worried him even more was that they had also called for backup and received a similar answer.  Clearly he was stranded in the midst of a brewing insurrection.  Briefly he flirted with the idea of shooting two or three in the crowd to instill fear, but the crowd was growing
and he was afraid to anger them.
F
or now at least they continued to chant peacefully. 

Lee Ming stood transfixed, not believing her eyes.  The voice in the message had predicted this:

You will find other citizens already there who will instruct you in how to first contain the police and army and then convince them that they are us and we are them
. 

She took a few hesitant steps, then started walking, wondering how she will know who is with this . . . this movement.  Everyone knows the police have spies everywhere and she feared she might go marching up to someone only to have handcuffs slapped on her wrists.  She had walked several blocks when she caught the eye of another young lady, perhaps three or four years
older than she.  Not knowing what to do, she demurred.  The slender young woman approached her and said:

“Tell me, how has your day been?”

“Confusing,” Ming replied hesitantly, looking into the gentle eyes of the person in front of her.  “I was listening to music, then all of a sudden . . .”

“Your music was
replaced
by a message,” interrupted the young woman. 

“Yes, but how did you know?” 

“Don’t worry about that.  Walk with me and I will explain to you what is happening.  What is your name?”  The two turned and set off down the street, noticing a motorcycle policeman with a flat tire and a group of people gathered around him.  

“I am
Nuan
,” the young woman said.  “The hidden video file you watched is not just a warning; it is a call to freedom.  It is a rallying cry for millions of Chinese who are unemployed due to President Li’s reckless a
c
tions, hiding underground for fear of capture or just yearning for a time when citizens can speak freely without being beaten or imprisoned.  It is an awakening designed, by sheer force of numbers, to force China’s repressive government to bring democracy and a say in the affairs of government to its people.  It is also a desperate and dangerous gambit by those who hope to prove that a movement which was brutally crushed in Tiananmen Square can somehow prevail now.” 

“The organizers’ hopes rest on two tenuous assumptions: one, that Li’s outrageous actions both domestically and abroad have pushed the average Chinese citizen over the edge in terms of opposition to him; two, that current ubiquitous video technology will manage to broadcast any crackdown that Li might launch so widely as to force him to capitulate.  The organizers are not naïve, nor are they stupid.  They are aware that many Chinese have good jobs and are willing to overlook corruption and the brutality of the police in order to
continue to enjoy their
comforts.  They also realize that while video technology in 1989 was far from what it is today, there were photos and videos of that horrible event that made it into the world press and, in spite of that, the tanks still rolled over the demonstrators.” 

“Darkness has descended over our nation and its people, Ming, and today a ne
w life for you and for China is dawning
.  But it is not without peril.  Do you want to become a part of that?” 

Ming searched
Nuan’s
eyes, looking for any hint of deceit or treachery.  They were like clear pools, tranquil reservoirs of kindness and understanding.

“Tell me what to do,” she replied. 

“Very well.  First we must contain the police and the army to the
greatest extent possible.  By hindering their movement, we limit their ability to organize against us.  Furthermore, by isolating them we gain the oppo
r
tunity to speak to them on a human level and persuade them to join us and put down their weapons.  To do this we use caltrops, simple ancient devices first us
ed to puncture horses hooves to
stop their charges.  Now we employ them to puncture tires and prevent movement.  Here, take these.”  She reached into a small bag she carried with her a produced a handful which she handed to Ming.