The Pacific Rim Collection

by Don Brown

  Just then a voice boomed over the 1MC. “Captain Garcia, Lieutenant Porter, report to the flag bridge.”

  “Attention on deck! Admiral’s on the flag bridge!” a navy lieutenant announced.

  “Carry on,” Hampton said.

  “CAG on the flag bridge,” the OOD said.

  Hampton turned and nodded to Captain Mark “Maverick” Garcia, the CAG — the Carrier Air Group Commander.

  “Admiral. Skipper,” Garcia said.

  The flag bridge door opened again. But this time, the officer entering did not rate an announcement. Lieutenant Jim Porter, the junior intelligence officer, said, “Good afternoon, Admiral.”

  “Well, it looks like we’re all here, gentlemen,” Hampton said. “Have a seat.”

  Harrison and Garcia sat on a long sofa anchored to the bulkhead. Farrow sat in a chair beside the long sofa. Hampton sat in another chair on the other side of the sofa. Porter remained standing.

  “Gentlemen, I want to know what the heck happened. We’ve just had an antiship missile crash-land on our flight deck. I have to explain this to Washington.”

  The senior officers exchanged glances, as if uncertain who should start.

  Harrison spoke up. “Admiral, as commanding officer of this ship, the burden for defending the ship is on my shoulders. So with your permission, sir, I’d like to start.”

  Hampton nodded. “Go ahead, Captain.”

  “Well, sir, the North Koreans slipped a missile through our missile-defense screen. Two missiles were fired. USS Lake Erie engaged the missiles with interceptors and took one out. The other got through.”

  “SM-3s?” Hampton asked.

  “Yes, sir. Lake Erie tried taking them out with SM-3s. Word from Captain Bennett, the CO of Lake Erie, is that one of the SM-3s failed to detonate.”

  “Mmm. I’ve never trusted the reliability of the SM-3s,” Hampton said. “Guess this proves it.”

  “Once Lake Erie informed us that the missile slipped through,” Harrison said, “we threw everything we had at it. The forward port Phalanx clipped it and blew it up, or it would have been a lot worse.”

  There was a pause.

  “What kind of a missile was it?”

  No answer.

  “Lieutenant Porter?” Hampton said. “Intel’s your department. You got anything on North Korean antiship missiles?”

  The junior intel officer twitched and cleared his throat. “Well, sir, Commander McCormick had put together a file on North Korean missiles before he left, and I brought that up in case you asked about it …” He paused and fiddled with some papers in an accordion file.

  “Dang straight I’m asking about it,” Hampton snapped. “Come on, son, I don’t have all day.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Porter said, as he pulled a memo out of the file. “Here it is.” He sounded relieved. “Commander McCormick in his memo indicates that any missiles fired from North Korea are probably either Chinese-made CSSC-3 Seersuckers or KN-01s, which are a North Korean – enhanced version of the Seersucker.”

  “What’s the range on these missiles?” Hampton said.

  “Uh …” — he read the memo — “up to 161 kilometers, or 100 miles, sir.”

  Hampton shook his head. “Captain Farrow, let’s get the chart up. I want to have a look at our current position and the position of our battle group.”

  “Aye, sir,” his chief of staff said, then nodded at the officer of the watch. “Lieutenant? Chart, please.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  A second later, the lieutenant wheeled a chart out on an easel.

  “Captain Harrison, please brief us on our current position and the position of the ships in the group.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “This chart marks the current position of the surface ships in the strike force. The carrier is represented by the star symbol in the middle. Now as you can see, we have seven ships positioned around the Truman to defend the carrier from missile and torpedo attack.

  “Our heavy cruisers Lake Erie and Hue City, the biggest of our missile-defense ships, are represented by the two deltas, out to port and starboard of the carrier. The destroyers and frigates out on the perimeter are represented by lightning bolts.

  “The ships, arrayed around the carrier in a circular position, in theory give us equal level of firepower against incoming missiles from any direction.

  “Notice our current position. We are operating in the narrowest part of the Yellow Sea. Out to the west, approximately fifty miles, is this finger of land, Cape Chengshan, in China.” The captain tapped the chart. “As you can see, the USS Hue City is operating between our current position and Cape Chengshan.

  Navy warships, positions in Yellow Sea, Korea Bay

  “Out to the east, about seventy miles, is the North Korean province of South Wanghae. We are approximately seventy miles from the westernmost tip of the province, which is here.” He tapped the chart again. “USS Lake Erie has been buffering us to the east. Lake Erie’s job was to take those missiles out. And, as you know, she took out one of them.

  “East of Lake Erie the USS Oscar Austin is moving into place to provide an additional screen against future missile attacks from Korea. Austin was south of this position when those missiles were launched and is not quite on station where we’re showing her on this chart.”

  “So we’re moving Austin into place with Lake Erie to provide additional ABM assistance, but she’s not actually in place yet?” Hampton asked.

  “Yes, sir, Admiral. That is correct. The skipper of Lake Erie radioed the skipper of Oscar Austin right after that missile got by, requesting emergency assistance, and the skipper of Oscar Austin set a course to the northeast to provide the additional missile screen. He also sent a flash message asking approval for the movement.”

  Captain Farrow, the admiral’s chief of staff, said, “We got a top-secret flash message from both captains requesting your approval for repositioning of Oscar Austin to flank Lake Erie. I hadn’t had a chance to present it to you yet because of all the chaos.”

  “Approve it,” Hampton snapped. “Maybe OA’s interceptors will work better than Lake Erie’s.”

  “Aye, sir,” Farrow said.

  “And Tony, try to make me aware of these things before, not after, the fact.”

  “Aye, sir. My apologies.”

  “Captain Harrison, continue your briefing.”

  “Aye, Admiral. As you can see, we have the British destroyer HMS Manchester covering us to the south and the Canadian frigate HMCS Charlottetown to our northwest running the point.

  “And as I mentioned, Hue City, our other heavy cruiser, is watching our western flank against anything that might come flying out of China.

  “And finally, just out to the west of Hue City, we have the guided-missile destroyer USS Carney.” He tapped the chart with a pointer.

  Silence.

  Hampton studied the chart. “Captain Garcia.” His eyes shifted to the air wing commander.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What if I ordered our entire western-posted destroyer screens out to the east of the ship?”

  The three captains stared at one another. Captain Harrison looked most worried.

  “You mean move our escort vessels now guarding our air and sea space between here and China and put them out to the east for added defense against further missile attacks from North Korea?”

  Harrison’s eyes locked on to Hampton’s. Hampton looked back at Garcia.

  “Here’s what we know,” Hampton said. “We just had one North Korean missile out of two fired get in way too close. If that Phalanx gun hadn’t taken that missile out at the last second, we’d have had the largest American catastrophe since 9/11. I don’t think Captain Harrison here has enough lifeboats for five thousand sailors. And I don’t want the largest American disaster since 9/11 on my shoulders.”

  “But, sir,” Captain Harrison interjected, “if we move all our screens to the North Korean side, that means we’re exposed i
f the Chinese launch a missile. Sir, with all due respect, I’ve read Sun Tsu’s Art of War. Chapter 6, as I recall, sir, emphasizes hitting the enemy at his point of weakness.”

  Hampton looked back at the carrier commander. “The Chinese are smarter than the North Koreans. They might attack, but I don’t think they will attack hastily. I think the North Koreans are far more likely to fire another missile at us. Maybe even a barrage of missiles.

  “Which leads me back to my original question, Captain Garcia.” He looked again at the CAG commander. “If I order part or all of the ships on our Chinese flank over to the east to guard the sea lanes on the Korean side, could your planes protect us against missile attack?”

  Captain Garcia hesitated. He appeared to be rolling his tongue around the inside of his mouth. “Well, Admiral, we can shoot down any CHICOM plane that would fire a missile at the carrier, and we can take out any land-based missile battery. Raytheon has been experimenting with some fighter-based ABM weapons. But as you know, our planes right now don’t have great shoot-down capabilities against other missiles.”

  The other captains nodded.

  “We might deter an attack on the carrier by patroling just outside their airspace, particularly if they think we might be carrying nuclear-tipped missiles,” Garcia said. “But shooting down other missiles?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s the bailiwick of our surface vessels, sir.”

  “Umph.” Hampton considered the options. “Lieutenant Porter, what’s the position of the nearest-known Chinese shore missile batteries?”

  Porter fumbled through the files again, his face sporting that scared fish-out-of-water look that Hampton had seen on the faces of junior officers throughout his thirty years in the Navy. “I … I don’t see it here, but I’m pretty sure that Commander McCormick did a memo of the positions of all Chinese missile batteries. If you’d like, sir, I will be happy to run down to the intel office and look for that memo.”

  Hampton tried suppressing his irritation. “No, Lieutenant. Not now. But get it to me as soon as we break, and make sure that Captain Garcia’s staff is briefed on the locations.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Hampton stood, prompting everyone else to stand. “Everybody, sit down,” he said as he stepped over to the chart. “I’m leaving Hue City out to our west … just in case. But I’m moving Carney, Charlottetown, and Manchester out to our eastern flank, which gives us six ships with antimissile capabilities if the North Koreans fire again.”

  The captains seemed relieved at the news that Hue City was staying put.

  “Captain Farrow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Draft operational orders to commanders of all surface ships involved to reposition the aforementioned ships as ordered. Flash. Top secret.”

  “Aye, Admiral.”

  CHAPTER 12

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  Mack Williams walked quickly down the middle of the West Colonnade, the long, half-covered open portico that connects the main residential portion of the White House with the West Wing. The open-columned walkway, a picturesque backdrop for events held in the Rose Garden, was a cold walk in late November for the president and his staff.

  At three-something in the morning, the temperature flirted with thirty-two degrees. The president, though a native Kansan, did not like freezing weather. Roused from his warm bed by two Secret Service agents, Mack had thrown on a pair of blue jeans, a white shirt, his trademark navy blue blazer, and penny loafers without socks. Now he wished he had taken time to slip on socks. As he hurried along the walkway, feeling like he was walking through a giant refrigerator, he realized he should have at least grabbed an overcoat.

  All he knew was that he was needed at an emergency meeting of the National Security Council in the Situation Room. Something on Korea. He wished now he had stayed at Camp David for the remainder of the Thanksgiving weekend. Even emergencies seemed less stressful there.

  “What’s going on, fellows?” he asked again as the agents escorted him through the cold.

  “We don’t know, Mr. President,” one of the agents said. “About Korea, as I understand it. Mr. Brubaker has all the details.”

  “Ah, yes. Mr. Brubaker has the details,” Mack said. His White House chief of staff, Arnie Brubaker, was so guarded in the flow of information that sometimes even Mack, who had picked Brubacker as his chief of staff, viewed him as a shadow president of sorts.

  The trio quick-stepped down the colonnade, the soles of their shoes clicking and echoing on the slate walkway as they hurried toward the light streaming from the entrance to the West Wing. As they approached, the door swung open.

  Out walked White House Chief of Staff Arnie Brubaker, wearing a blue pinstripe suit, perfectly pressed white shirt, and red tie.

  “It’s three in the morning, Arnie,” Mack said. “What’s up?”

  “A missile attack on the Harry Truman, sir,” Brubaker said when they stepped into the heated entrance of the West Wing.

  “What?” Mack said. “A missile attack on the carrier?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did we lose her?”

  “No, sir, but the ship suffered some significant damage.”

  “Who attacked the Truman?”

  “The North Koreans, sir. A land-based missile slipped through our missile screens. A little over an hour ago. Apparently they were retaliating because two of our Super Hornets splashed two of their MiGs, after a MiG fired on the Hornets.”

  Brubacker walked alongside the president. The two Secret Service agents followed behind them as they headed for the elevator that would take them down to the basement of the West Wing.

  “How bad is it?” Mack asked.

  The chief of staff punched the elevator button. “Pretty bad, sir. But we didn’t lose the ship. Thank God for that.”

  The doors closed and the elevator dropped down one level.

  “A direct hit?” Mack snapped. “How many men lost?”

  The elevator doors opened and the men stepped out into the hallway, right across from the Situation Room.

  “The carrier is still afloat, sir,” Brubacker said as he pushed open a door of the Situation Room.

  “Attention on deck!”

  Immediately, six high-ranking members of the armed services rose to their feet. They all held four-star rank. Two were from the Navy, two from the Marines, one from the Army, and one from the Air Force. Three civilians, all in their fifties — the vice president, the secretary of state, and secretary of defense — also stood. The lone woman in the room, who held the office of national security adviser to the president, also stood.

  “Sit down, gentlemen, ma’am,” Mack said. He looked at the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Navy Admiral Roscoe Jones, who was by law the highest-ranking military officer in the United States armed forces. “Brubaker’s details are a little sketchy. What’s going on with the Harry Truman?”

  “Mr. President, the Harry Truman took a hit from what we think is a Chinese-made missile fired from North Korea,” the Arkansas native said in a bit of a drawn-out Southern accent. “They fired two missiles at us. They apparently fired the missiles because two of our Hornets splashed two of their MiGs after one of the MiGs fired on the Hornets.

  “Our cruiser-destroyer screens shot one missile down. The other got through the screen. The Truman’s Phalanx system finally intercepted the missile in midair at the very last second. The missile exploded just before it hit the ship, but the burning wreckage of the missile landed on the forward deck of the carrier. This set off a significant fire, destroying two F-18s, that has now been brought under control.”

  “What are our losses?” the president asked.

  “The two F-18s on the cat that went up in smoke. Four confirmed dead.”

  “Umph.” Mack slammed his fist on the table as he stood and leaned forward. “Admiral, I want to know how those missiles got through our defensive
interceptors.”

  Admiral Jones looked over to the other admiral in the room. “Admiral Arthur, would you take that one?”

  Mack stared at his chief of naval operations, Admiral Chester A. Arthur VII, who was the great-grandson, several times removed, of the nation’s twenty-first president.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll take that question,” Admiral Arthur said. He slipped on a pair of black half-rimmed reading glasses, perching them halfway down his nose. “Sir, USS Lake Erie was the lead ship shielding the Truman to her east. When the missiles were spotted inbound, Lake Erie fired two SM-3 antiballistic missiles.

  “Our interceptor missiles launched successfully, sir, and by all accounts tracked the inbound missiles on target. One detonated and took out one of the Seersuckers. Unfortunately, the second SM-3 simply failed to detonate.” The admiral paused.

  “Simply failed to detonate.” Mack parroted the admiral’s words.

  “Yes, sir, afraid so,” Admiral Arthur said. “That’s the preliminary indication. Sir, the government bought a lot of SM-3s during the Obama administration because they were cheap. They didn’t meet the specs the Navy would have wanted, but the administration rammed them through anyway.”

  “All right, I know,” Mack said. “I know … Obama wasn’t much on the military. But what I want to know is why the Phalanx system on board the Lake Erie didn’t fire as a backup to the SM-3 to take the missile out.”

  Jones and Arthur looked at each other. Arthur said, “Mr. President, that’s a good question. We don’t yet know why. We’re trying to determine why the Phalanx system on Lake Erie wasn’t fired.”

  “Dang straight we need to know why,” Mack said. “And when you put that question to the skipper of the Lake Erie, his answer better be good or I’ll order him removed from command tonight and make whoever the XO is the acting CO. Are we clear on that?”

  “Perfectly clear, sir,” Jones said.

  “Mr. President?” Arthur said.

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “In defense of the skipper of the Lake Erie, sir, the Phalanx is a close-in defensive gun of last resort. It is to be used only if the interceptors have missed and an attacking missile is closing in on the ship. The Truman used Phalanx properly and it did work. It’s possible the Seersucker never got within range of the Lake Erie’s system.”