by Stephen Makk
“Range one mile.”
“Launch Chaff to starboard.” The chaff cloud bloomed, tempting the missile away.
A ruckus buzzing sound came from the rear of the ship as the Phalanx cannons poured a hail of lead into the missile’s path at a rate of 3,000 rounds a minute.
In the last few seconds of the missile's flight, the countermeasures deflected the missile upwards. The missile slammed into the hanger and exploded, blowing the hangar and the rear half of the ship’s superstructure away. It failed to hit its target at the waterline. The USS Kimberly Peer was ablaze and in serious trouble, but she was still afloat.
THE DAMAGE CONTROL team extinguished the small fire at the control room’s rear. Operators coughed at their consoles.
“XO, what’s the sitrep on damage?” asked Brockman.
“Aft is a wreck, half of it’s gone. We’ll struggle to get the Seahawk down, but we’ll do it. The engine room has been damaged but can be repaired in a couple of hours. We got off lightly there.”
“Bottom line. Lieutenant Commander?”
“Bottom line. Our damage control teams are on top of their game. We’re out of the fight but she’s salvable, I’d say head for the Philippine Navy base at Puerto Princesa City, Palawan Island.”
She looked down. “Casualties?”
“Thirty eight dead, fifty six injured. Some critical, sir. They need help, more than we’ve got.”
Captain Jane Brockman didn’t like it, but it had to be done.
“Ok, Thanks. Helm, come about, head southeast. We’re going to Palawan.”
THE PENTAGON.
GENERAL COTTON BROUGHT the meeting of the joint chiefs to order.
“Ladies and gentlemen, The USS Kimberly Peer. What do we do?”
Present, was the Chief of Staff of the Army General Sally Weingarten, USA.
Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Nicolaj Kamov, USN.
Commandant of the Marine Corps Bruce Nanut, USMC.
Chief of Staff of the Air Force General Neil L Cooper, USAF.
National Security Advisor, Stockhaisen.
“Right, we’re here to discuss the situation in the South China Sea,” said General Cotton.
“Can you share your thoughts?”
“Not really,” said Commandant of the Marine Corps Bruce Nanut. “I’d make a Gunnery Sargent blush.”
“We have that sub over there,” said General Cooper, “so sink the Chinese sub.”
“No,” said Admiral Kamov.
“Why?”
“Her mission is too important, she’d give herself away. No one must suspect that she’s there. She’s a ghost of the deeps right now.”
“They’ve reclaimed and expanded islands all over the South China Sea. We must be able to do something,” said Stockhaisen.
“We should keep away from Mischief, Johnson South and Fiery Cross, let our boat do her thing,” Kamov threw his hands in the air.
“Neil, can the Air Force do something?” asked General Cotton.
“We’ll need a base. Guam’s one, but we could do with something closer,” said General Cooper, “we can forget the Philippines with Duterte in power.”
“I may have a solution,” said General Sally Weingarten, “Vietnam. They’re in dispute with the Chinese over several of the islands. There’s no love lost between them. In 1988 they lost sixty four men in a skirmish with the Chinese on Johnson Reef South. I’ve got good connections over there. I can get in contact with General Le Cang in Da Nang. We’ve a chance.”
“Anybody got any objections?” asked General Cotton. A chorus of no’s came back.
“Ok Sally, do your stuff. Fly over there.”
NATHAN, THE XO, INNES and Alves sat at the table in the Wardroom.
“Ok, so that’s it,” said Nathan. “Are you fine with the Exfil plan?”
Alves nodded. “Sir.”
“Yes sir,” said Innes.
“Good, we’ll enter the channel at oh one hundred hours tomorrow, so three and a half hours’ time. Oh three hundred hours is H hour. Good luck.”
The two divers left.
“It’s gonna be tough out there, Nathan.”
“I know. Another night time swim into who knows what. At least they’ve already got a mission done together.” Nathan shook his head. “I wish I knew how deep that damn channel is.” He wondered too about company in the channel, would ships or boats use it in the night? It could get tricky. What would his old mentor Captain Franks of USS NYC have done?
Nathan walked into the control room at midnight.
“CONTROL ROOM. RIG FOR red.” The room was bathed in a dull red light, it would be easier for his eyes to adjust to the night vision display in the periscope. He’d be using the monitor screen at the Conn and night vision viewer in the scope. But, you never knew. Besides, red was what you used for night operations, it was traditional. Just before H hour, he unhooked the microphone.
“All hands, all hands. We are just outside the northern entrance to the enemy’s naval base. We’re going to try sneaking in tonight. It’s going to be very tricky and shallow, we don’t really know how deep the channel will be. Rig strictly for silent running. At the right point, we’ll deploy our divers, Chief Petty Officers Michael Innes and Hugo Alves. They’ll carry out our task tonight. We’re here to get intel from the enemy, we’re here to find out things about him he’d rather nobody know. We’ll know. The Joint Chiefs wanted someone to take a dump on Joe Chinaman’s dinner. Who did they ask for? Who’s the meanest ass in the fleet? The USS Stonewall Jackson, that’s who. They got the best. Now let’s go do it. Commander out.” He placed the microphone on its hook. “Come to periscope depth, up bubble ten.”
“Periscope depth sir.”
Nathan set the controls for a pop up and 360 sweep. He looked at the night vision display, all clear.
“Enter the lagoon, forward five knots.” After a few minutes, he tried another pop up and sweep. There, visible down the channel in the distance, were the lights of the base.
“Come to starboard, I want to face due north.” The boat turned about.
“Rig trim to ascend fore and aft, stern ballast one quarter. Reverse, speed four knots.” The boat reversed slowly into the channel with her stern raised off the bottom. She dragged her bow behind her. After two minutes he raised the periscope and looked astern, he lowered the view to look at the channel and the sea immediately behind the boat. Could they be making a disturbance in the sea?
“Looks good, XO. Come to three five five degrees.” He was trying to keep to the eastern side of the channel.
This way, backing into the channel would mean the boat would be bow low and trailing if the bottom became too shallow. It would also mean if a quick exit was required, the boat would be facing the correct way. After two minutes, he popped the scope up again.
“Come to zero degrees.” A few minutes later a dull scraping sounded through the hull. The boat had bottomed.
“That’s it XO, we’re on the bottom. I’m going to drag us along for a while with the prop.”
“Increase revs, to 50 percent.”
The XO looked at Nathan with wide eyes. He wanted to shake his head but didn’t. They should get away with it for a while at least.
After a while, he popped up the scope again. He looked at the vertical travel meter on the monitor. It hardly moved. He selected down scope, but maintained the view. The periscope was now permanently above the surface, the hull still dragged on the seafloor. Nathan gauged the distance to the base. It was 300 yards to the sea wall. A tanker, and what looked like a frigate were anchored up.
“All stop.” The revs fell away and the scraping sound stopped.
“Flood stern ballast. Open and trim vents fore and aft.” The boat came level. “XO, tell the divers we’re 300 yards out, it’s up to them now.”
INNES AND ALVES PUT on their rebreathers, helped by the two seamen. One of the seamen spun open the lower hatch, and Innes and Alves climbed up into the sail and the bug wa
s passed up to them. The lower hatch was closed and the seawater started to fill the chamber. Soon it was full, just a red light filled the chamber. The outer hatch was opened and Innes swam out. He had a surprise, he broke surface. The top of the sail was just about level with the surface. All her periscope and transmission masts were up there in fresh air. He rolled into the sea. Alves and Innes manhandled the bug over the sail’s edge. They vented buoyancy and dropped down into the channel on the starboard side of the boat.
The two divers switched on their head torches and set off to the southeast. Eventually, the channel wall appeared to their left, and they pressed on, and it wasn’t long before they saw the cable. It was still shielded here, so the bug couldn’t be deployed. Ten yards further on Alves put a hand up and stopped. It was a trip line again, no doubt leading to a spear gun. They carefully passed over it. Soon they found a diagonal line, just like the one at Mischief. They found the intersection point and crossed as low as they could.
A few yards further on, Innes stopped. What the hell? There was a row of spear guns cocked and pointing upwards, spaced about nine inches apart. They were attached to a metal strip on the seabed. How the hell were they set off? It was tempting to cross over them but they must be triggered somehow. You could end up with two harpoons in your chest.
Innes tried using his knife to lift the metal strip, it lifted but didn’t set off the spear guns. He had an idea, he tapped Alves and pointed to the left and they swam to the wall. At the channel wall the strip ended; the last gun was six inches from the side. He took his lifting bag from his leg pouch pointed to the strip and gave Alves the thumbs up. Alves gave him the ok; he understood. Soon the lifting bag was fixed to the strip. Innes added gas from the seven-litre bale out tank on his chest and the bag did its job, it lifted the strip of spear guns from near the wall. When he thought the gap was big enough, he took a bow and gestured Alves through, then passed the bug through.
Within twenty careful yards, the shielding ended. They placed the bug three yards to one side. Alves set the activator and Innes unscrewed the tap and laid the line out. Finally, they covered the bug with silt and small rocks. The two divers high fived each other and set off back the way they’d come. When they reached the strip of guns and the lifting bag, the strip was let down and the bag removed and stowed. They could leave no sign that they’d been here.
They began to head back through the 3D harpoon minefield. Innes heard it first, and knew instantly what it was. Oh, shit no.
Chapter 7
“HI PAUL, HERE’S MARIE.” Stockhaisen introduced her.
“Hi,” he shook hands with her. She was Hispanic, dark hair, elfin looks, brown eyes. Good looking, he had to admit.
“Hi Paul, I’ll tell you straight, I’m a bit nervous. The blind date thing is new to me.”
“Me too, so we’ll just have to wing it.”
“Have you been here before? Do you like Chinese food?” asked Marie.
“I’ve not been here before, no. But Chinese is fine. I was told Peekaboo picked it, it’s her birthday,” he smiled.
He’d not wanted to do this. A blind date. It was not his style, but Stockhaisen had insisted.
It had been a call he’d taken at Langley. “You’re coming to the dinner Paul, no ifs, no buts. It’ll be me and Carla, Peekaboo and this guy she’s started seeing. You and this girl that Carla knows.”
“But...”
“Don’t ‘but’ me Paul, it’s happening.”
“Mr Stockhaisen, your table is ready. If you would follow me.”
Paul followed the Chinese waitress with the swaying hips, which were clad in a long red skirt with gold symbols. The six of them sat and the first course was served.
After the meal, Stockhaisen and Paul were stood off to one side by the bar.
“Yeah, I’ll be there, the skins need this one. The Bronco’s do too, it sh....”
A Chinese waitress in a red and gold traditional costume approached them. “Mr Stockhaisen, your whiskies.” She held up a silver platter with two glasses of amber liquid on it.
“Thank you. Help yourself, Paul.”
She smiled and walked away.
“Pretty isn’t she? May something or other, that’s her name.”
Paul nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“At least we know she’s not the MSS agent.”
Paul tried to act disinterested. “Yeah.”
“The real one apparently is out of the city now, somewhere out in a house west of here. The FBI are closing in. I don’t know...”
Marie and Carla interrupted.
“Come on you two. I’ll bet you’re talking shop. Stop it and join in.” Stockhaisen rolled his eyes at Paul and walked off. Marie put her hand on Paul’s back and pushed him towards the rest of the group.
Paul was flushed with adrenaline. The FBI were closing in? Shit. Zhi Ruo, God, what are we going to do?
PAUL SAT AT HOME THAT evening with a glass of wine, he’d wanted coffee but he knew sleep was needed too.
He wrestled with the tangled web he’d woven. It was a quandary; to step up her protection he may have to tell her that he knew she was MSS. That would probably turn the tap off with the information he was getting. She didn’t know he was CIA either, she’d run a mile if she knew.
Just to add spice to the broth, and to totally put the whole thing in shit street, he had to admit it, as hard as it was to face it, he knew it was the truth.
He had fallen for her. He couldn’t lose Zhi. But, could he save her unless he did?
JOHNSON’S REEF SOUTH.
“SONAR. WE HAVE ACTIVITY at the base, prop sounds. It’s running quite fast but the ship’s not moving much. Stopped. Now in reverse. There’s a lot of echo from the bay. Stopped, now forward.”
Nathan frowned and looked at the XO.
“It’s a ship manoeuvring to come away from its birth. Something’s coming out of the base. ID, Benson?”
“There’s too much echo sir, but if you want my best guess, it’s that frigate.” He knew Benson well enough to know he was probably right. Nathan knew his upper mast works and maybe even the top of the sail was above water. The frigate wouldn’t suspect a hostile submarine in the channel. It would probably sail on by in the dark and there were two divers in the water. Then again it may spot them. To be trapped in here by an enemy frigate would be a nightmare. He hated to do it but he had to leave the divers behind.
“Forward ten knots.” He’d leave a wake, but there was no choice. USS Stonewall Jackson made her way toward the open sea, and when he judged the time was right he’d dive.
Nathan waited.
“Flood forward one half, down bubble ten, dive to periscope depth. Open and trim vents fore and aft. Make for depth.”
The boat dived below the surface. It was time to head out of the lagoon.
“Planesman, come to 30 degrees. Speed 15 knots.”
“Thirty at 15, aye sir.” After five minutes he decided it was time. He looked over at her. She was visible in the dull red light, apart from the headset, she could be plying her trade in a red light zone.
“Kaminski, I’m going to do two 360 pop ups, get a satellite position fix.”
“Aye sir.”
Nathan set the controls on his Conn station. The periscope rose above the surface, did two brief 360 scans, and withdrew below the surface.
“You get a fix?”
“Yes sir, I’m adding it to the chart now.”
He looked at the scans, they were in night vision mode. He zoomed in, and the frigate was visible behind them. He zoomed in again.
“Weaps, take a look at my view. What’s its type, and what does the dummies guide say?”
“Sir, it’s a Jiangkai II class. I’ll look up its threat profile.” It only took him a minute to find the info he needed. “MGK-335 active/passive sonar. SJG-206 towed array sonar. Armament; Yu-8 ASROC equivalent system. Yu 7 ASW torpedoes. Type 87 ASROC equivalent. Ka-28 Helix helicopter.”
Nathan frow
ned. “So, she’s a pretty heavy hitter then. Kaminski, get me a course to E1.”
She performed some calculations. “Sir, I recommend ten knots, due to reef proximity. Three minutes at 45, then four minutes at one eight zero.”
“Planesman, do it.”
“Three minutes at 45, then four minutes at one eight zero. Ten knots. Aye sir.” The planesman carried out the courses, and the boat leaned hard to the right on the course change.
“In position sir.”
“Reverse full.” Nathan waited twenty seconds. “Reverse off. Revs for three forward. Come to zero degrees. Then all stop.”
The boat was at rest, just outside the reef at the northeast corner. They were at the Exfil position; it was all up to Innes and Alves now.
INNES LISTENED TO THE prop somewhere out in the blackness. Thrum, thrum, thrum. It was getting closer. Underwater sound travels too fast for your ears to gauge the direction it was coming from. It was just out there. He’d seen the tanker and the frigate in the harbour. It sounded more like a warship than a tanker; the prop was faster.
Now, what would Commander Blake do? Innes knew how shallow it was in here. He could stay or go. Innes decided that he’d probably go, the mission came first and if the boat was discovered, that was it. But he may have stayed. He decided to make for the Exfil position but still sweep with the mini-echo locators just in case. He made a sign to Alves with crossed arms; Exfil. Alves nodded. The two men soon came across another of the blasted wire trips, they’d have to get past it first. Take your time, Innes told himself, nice and slow.