The Australian military establishment had understood that their budgets would be slashed and their power base eroded commensurably. They believed that the country would slip back thirty years in terms of its capacity to defend itself, with a government in power that didn't believe in the existence of any real threat to the Australian people reportedly now sitting to the north of the country they now governed.
“Prime Minister,” the Chairman commenced, “the information indicates the weapons originated from Cuban sources and are of Russian manufacture. We cannot at this time be sure of the size of their armories. However indications are that they have been stockpiling for some considerable time. ”
The speaker looked around the office knowing that he had delivered a considerable shock to those present. What they did not realize was that a select number of highly-cleared Intelligence masters had prior knowledge of the information only now released to the assembled group. The intelligence chiefs had agreed that as they apparently could no longer determine just who could access the highly classified material, then they would initiate their own system of controls by retaining the information on a âDirector's Eyes-Only' basis to maintain its integrity. Those in the room who had knowledge of this tactic were pleased, as it had obviously worked.
“Furthermore, we have unconfirmed reports there have been small numbers of Cuban observers identified around the town of Dili,” the Chairman added.
“Cubans?” the Prime Minister gasped, shocked at the incredible news. “Cubans?” he repeated shaking his head disbelievingly, “have you all gone stark raving fucking mad?” almost choking with the invective.
“We can't confirm the sighting, however we believe that as the weapons probably originated from Castro's own arsenal there is little doubt he would have sent advisers and other technicians along with the equipment. ”
“What sort of weapons do they have?” the Prime Minister asked, reluctantly, expecting the worst.
The General stared directly at the nation's leader. Pausing to achieve the maximum impact, he slowly shook his head and spoke authoritatively.
“The FRETILIN and other armed groups will have the latest in rifles and small arms. The general consensus is that they will have a considerable supply of AK-47s, anti-personnel mines and, unfortunately, maybe even some small missile capability. ”
Those present who had not been privileged with this information prior to the General's announcement, were stunned. For moments no one moved. The politicians remained speechless, mouths agape, staring wide-eyed at the Military Commander who had, in one brief moment, delivered the most incredible statement they'd ever heard. Even by these Members of Parliament.
“AK-47s? Missiles?” the Prime Minister commenced his question, stammering, “wh. . . what type of weapons are they?”
The General again sighed, faced with the senior politician's ignorance.
“The AK-47 is a Soviet assault rifle used widely throughout the Communist world. The rifle is both semi-automatic and fully automatic, with a cyclic firing rate of six hundred rounds per minute. The weapon has been around for some time and the Cubans have stockpiles large enough to support armies of insurrections in at least half a dozen separate theatres.
“It's what the North Vietnamese regulars have been using against our boys,” he added.
The room was filled with more silence.
“And the missiles?” the leader asked quietly, dragging the words out slowly.
“We don't know. ”
“What?” the Prime Minister bellowed, “what do you mean we don't know? For Christ's sake man, surely we must have some information?”
“If the Yanks have this information off their satellites then they have not, as yet, been forthcoming in providing the data nor permitting our access to the material. ”
“Jesus bloody Christ! Missiles!” the politician exploded again, slumping back into his heavy leather chair.
“The bastards!” he shouted, jumping back to his feet, “the dirty stinking bastards!”
The assembly watched their leader, surprised at his apparent loss of control over the situation. It was totally out of character. Several minutes passed and, regaining his composure, he looked back at the military men whom he now also despised for wrecking what had been a reasonable week in office.
“What is the estimated range of these missiles that we do not know whether they do or do not have?” he demanded sarcastically.
“If they have taken delivery say, of a Russian Guideline series surface-to-air missile then these could deliver a devastating effect to aircraft within range. The Russians have been modifying this missile and you may remember its effectiveness during the Six Day War when the Egyptians used it successfully against the Israeli Air Force. These birds can fly at three and a half times the speed of sound and will hit a target up to sixty thousand feet,” he answered, almost proud to be a member of the world's military machine that could manufacture and deploy such sophisticated weaponry.
The General stopped to ensure that this was all sinking in as it was imperative that these civilians understood the ramifications of what was to follow.
“But these Guidelines are not our real problem.” He now had the attention of every person in attendance.
“The major danger, gentlemen, is the distinct possibility of our own Cuban-styled missile crisis!”
Slowly all eyes turned towards the large man seated behind the Victorian desk. He was ashen and sat motionless except for the slight shaking movement of his greying head. The Prime Minister, as were those around him, was in a complete state of shock.
“My God!” he exclaimed softly.
“How?” he inquired, in a soft almost inaudible whisper.
“Gentlemen. We are all aware of the crisis precipitated by the Russian deployment of the Russian IRBMs in Cuba in 1962. These missiles were of the Sandal series which have a strike range capability of some one thousand two hundred miles.” The General rose and approached the wall on which now hung a map of South East Asia down to the Commonwealth of Australia. He pointed at Timor and, removing his ball-pen, drew a circle around the island.
“Gentlemen, this is the potential strike range of the Sandal missile. Let's hope that they will not be able to deploy these or any other IRBMs for, as you can see, such a strike range puts most of Northern Australia, New Guinea, the Philippines and, of course, Jakarta and half of Indonesia, well within the targetable range of these missiles. ”
Several of the Cabinet Ministers had now approached the map and were examining it in disbelief.
“Good grief!” the Minister for External Affairs exclaimed, astonished at the revelations he had just heard, “they could wipe out Darwin and maybe even Perth!”
“And probably Cairns, Alice Springs, the three secret American installations, also Port Hedland and Mount Isa,” added the Cabinet Secretary.
This announcement brought the Minister seated across the room immediately to his feet.
“Are you sure? Mount Isa?” his lip trembling as he darted across the room to determine for himself that his own electoral seat could be obliterated by one of these incredible monsters.
“There is no doubt, gentlemen,” the General continued, “should the Independence Movement succeed, with the obvious political ties they have already established, we should all assume the worst. There could quite possibly be a small independent Communist nation sitting just off Australia with the capacity to throw nuclear warheads into our and everybody else's backyard in the region. ”
Immediately the room lost all semblance of decorum and broke into shouts and cries of panic.
“Gentlemen!” the Prime Minister called. “Gentlemen, let's have some order, please, this is not the Floor of the House! Settle down. Now!” he demanded.
The nation's leaders returned to their seats. They all stared numbly at each other; several of their number had lowered their heads and closed their eyes, as if they had already been struck by some alien force.
“We cannot allow a hint of this situation to reach the press or the public. Attorney-General, please advise all present of the gravity of permitting such a leak to occur. ”
The Attorney-General rose slowly and stood visibly unhappy with the task of warning his own colleagues of the penalties of the Official Secrets Act.
“As the Prime Minister wishes,” he commenced. “I should request that we all maintain complete communication silence regarding these developments and, as the subject has been classified with the highest grading, the penalty of any such breach could earn the responsible party up to thirty years in prison. ”
“I really don't consider this at all necessary, Prime Minister. If anything, it is a little insulting to suggest that any of us present would consider such irresponsible action,” intervened the piqued Chief of Navy Staff.
“Nevertheless, that's the way it will be, gentlemen, and you will be informed as to where and when a further general discussion will be called to address the crisis,” the leader announced. “General, I wish for you to remain, along with the Attorney-General, and Mr Anderson.”
The room all but emptied within a minute.
Anderson
observed the nation's leader drumming the desk with his pudgy and oversized fingers. Alone with the three men he had instructed to remain, the Prime Minister observed each of them, in turn, determining in his own mind that only his elected political associate could really be trusted completely.
“General, what is the suggested course of action, or remedy to resolve this situation?”
Anderson
observed the Senior Army Officer as he considered the question. The man was almost as large as the Prime Minister. Both men had reached the pinnacle of their careers and, as is the case with most powerful men, each considered the other to be inferior and of lesser achievement. The General's obvious meteoric rise had been a result not just of his war service record and outstanding capabilities, but also his family's close association with the previous political moguls who ruled the Australian classes uninterrupted through the Fifties, Sixties, and early Seventies.
“My opinion is that we should encourage the United Nations to occupy the former colony immediately with troops for at least five years until such time as the people are able to govern themselves and convince the island's regional neighbours that its amenable to some non-aligned movement. Failing that, Prime Minister, either we go in ourselves, or we orchestrate for the Indonesians to enter the colony as it is, after all, just the other half of an island already occupied by their country. ”
The politician turned to Anderson.
“Would you agree?”
Anderson
had already discussed the possible scenarios with the Army General. Although they were basically in agreement as to what action should be taken, they were very conscious that the politician with whom they were dealing was astute and could easily detect any possible collusion on their part.
“Sir,” he commenced, “the obvious dangers of yet another independent state coming into being in the region oblige us to seek a course of action which will not just offer a short term remedy but also enhance Australia's own position with its Asian neighbours. ”
The statesmen slowly began drumming on his desk.
“The Indonesians will not tolerate an independent East Timor and we should avoid, at all costs, any confrontation with them over this issue. In fact,” he continued “we should encourage them to enter the arena guaranteeing our political and, if necessary, our military support in this crisis. ”
“How will the Indonesians react?” he asked.
“Historically, the Indonesians believe that the whole archipelago belongs under one flag. Their action in West Irian has proven that political stance. I believe that they will jump at the opportunity to acquire East Timor as part of their country. ”
“General?”
“They certainly have the fire power to march in and wrap up the FRETILIN quickly. The danger is that the Cubans may have already firmly entrenched themselves and this would then become a United Nations issue which, eventually, could result in the creation of an independent country with substantial Communist backing. ”
“Then you are both in agreement. The Indonesians should be approached immediately and advised of our position?”
Both men looked at each other and nodded their approval of such a gambit.
“General, the Indonesians would be receptive to someone of your stature approaching them with such a proposal. I feel that you should contact their ambassador immediately who, if I'm not mistaken, is also a retired officer of senior rank. ”
The General's eyebrows rose quizzically.
“Also retired, Prime Minister?” he asked.
A semblance of a smile appeared on his lips. It was not the smile of mirth but one of sarcasm. He had nothing to be pleased about.
“Prematurely put, General. I'm sorry. ”
“Thank you Prime Minister,” the career officer responded without any sign of warmth. He despised these socialist politicians. “I will contact their Ambassador immediately and advise you of the outcome. ”