by Don Brown
“Ready to go back to work. Doc says he wants me to lay up here for three days. But that’s ridiculous. We’re in a war zone. This is no time for an intelligence officer to be holed up in the sick bay of a sub tender.”
“Sorry you came all the way out here just to pick me up. I feel responsible that good men died.”
Gunner nodded. “You’re right. This was a stupid mission, but that’s not your fault. That chopper was going down anyway and would have gone down even if we’d flown straight back to the Carl Vinson. You saved my life, and I owe you one. The XO told me they had called off the search, but you remained on post. If you hadn’t stayed and kept looking, I might never have been found.” He reached for her hand. “If I ever see your father again, I’m going to tell him exactly that.”
“You’re kind, sir.” She felt embarrassed and let go of his hand. “Anyway, is there anything I can do for you?”
He rolled to his right. “Ohhh!” He grimaced.
“Careful, sir.”
“Over there. On the deck to the right of the rack. Oh!”
“Please lay back, sir. Just let me know what you want.”
“They … aah … maybe the doc was right …”
“Here.” She took a pillow off another cot and brought it over to him. “Maybe this will give you some more support.” She slipped it under his head, giving him a second pillow to rest on.
“Thanks, Stephanie … Uh … over there … they put together a seabag for me. It’s right over there. It’s got my uniform they washed and dried and some other stuff I had on me from the crash. Would you move it over here under my rack? I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need that stuff sooner rather than later.”
“Certainly, Commander.” She moved the seabag under his cot.
“Thanks, Stephanie.”
“My pleasure, sir. It’s been a long day, and it seems like we both could use some shuteye. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
“I’d like that.” He smiled.
“Sir.” She nodded, then stepped back out into the passageway and started a quick walk back through the decks to her stateroom. There was something unique about this Lieutenant Commander McCormick. But what? She could not put her finger on it. Yes, he was one of the Navy’s best-known officers, but that wasn’t it.
Maybe the thing that made him unique at the moment was the fact that he was alive. And he was alive, in large part, because of her. As that realization hit her, flooding her with emotions she feared not even her professional naval officer’s poker face could mask, she quickened the pace, for she was now fighting hard to keep from losing control.
Finally, she stepped into her stateroom, kicked off her shoes, killed the lamp, and, still in full uniform, crashed onto the rack. She buried her head in the pillow to muffle her sobbing. Then, catching her breath, she gave thanks to God for the miracle of life, that Gunner McCormick was alive, and that she had been used to save him.
CHAPTER 18
Harbin SH-5 maritime bomber
People’s Liberation Naval Air Force
altitude 2,000 feet
South China Sea
250 miles east of Da Nang, Vietnam
100 miles south of Paracel Islands (Xisha Qundao)
5:14 a.m. local time
Were it not for the adrenaline flowing in Senior Lieutenant Jung Hai’s veins, the roaring hum of the four turbojet engines hanging under the wings of the SH-5 could almost lull him to sleep.
But there would be no sleep this morning.
With his hands gripping the yoke in the cockpit and his plane flying due east over open water, all eyes were fixed on the ghastly green of the pre-dawn sea below in search of a missing freighter.
“Any sign of anything yet, sir?” His crew chief had stepped into the cockpit from the back of the plane.
“Not yet. Just miles of greenish open water. But my guess is one of three things.”
“You think the Taiwanese Navy, Skipper?”
“Either that or a total engine failure or rogue wave. Take your pick, Chief.”
“Sounds logical, sir.”
“But if they sent her to the bottom, that makes our job harder. It’s hard to spot isolated floating debris from this altitude. And if they took a civilian freighter out, you can bet they would fire their antiaircraft missiles at us too. Times like this? I wish I’d become a fighter pilot. At least we would stand a better chance if we get shot at.” He looked out the left side of the plane, out to an empty expanse of water, water that was now coming to light with the imminent appearance of the rising sun. “The enemy’s down there somewhere, Chief. I can feel it.”
Bridge
USS Vicksburg
South China Sea
108 miles south of Paracel Islands (Xisha Qundao) course 094 degrees
5:28 a.m. local time
Skipper!” the radar officer shouted. “We’ve got a bogie. Unidentified aircraft. Approaching from two-seven-zero. Range ten miles! Airspeed two-five-zero! Altitude two thousand. Appears to be a heavy, sir.”
“Dang!” Captain Kruger grunted. “At that altitude and speed, likely a search plane.”
“I agree, sir,” the XO said.
“Lieutenant Morrison.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Send an IFF signal.”
“Aye, sir. Transmitting Identify-Friend-or-Foe signal now.”
“Very well. XO! On the 1MC. Sound General Quarters.”
“Aye, Captain.” The XO flipped a switch on the control panel. Bells and alarms sounded all over the ship. “General Quarters! General Quarters! General Quarters! Unidentified aircraft approaching at two-seven-zero. General Quarters! General Quarters!”
“WEPS!”
“Ready for your orders, sir!”
“Ready antiaircraft weapons. Lock onto approaching aircraft. Be prepared to fire on my command.”
“Aye, sir. Readying AA weapons, sir! Preparing to lock on. Preparing to fire on your command, sir!”
Harbin SH-5 maritime bomber
People’s Liberation Naval Air Force
altitude 2,000 feet
South China Sea
258 miles east of Da Nang, Vietnam
104 miles south of Paracel Islands (Xisha Qundao)
5:30 a.m. local time
The huge orange sun had slipped halfway above the watery horizon, like half of a bright orange pumpkin in the path of the SH-5. Squinting at the orange light of the sunrise streaming into the cockpit, Jung Hai slipped on a pair of aviator’s glasses to block the glare.
“Lieutenant! Warship below! American Ticonderoga-class!” Ensign Wo Ju, the copilot, said.
“Where?”
“Three o’clock, Lieutenant! One thousand yards off.”
Jung Hai looked out. Nothing but blue water lit by the orange morning sun.
“Lieutenant! There’s a freighter! Cutting a parallel course with the cruiser!”
“Where?”
“There!” The copilot pointed out the right cockpit window.
This time, Jung Hai saw the sleek gray lines of the Ticonderoga-class cruiser sitting low in the water. Just behind her, only a hundred yards off her port side, was the long black-hulled freighter.
“How did I miss that?” Jung Hai said. “I think we’ve found our missing freighter. But if that is in fact the Shemnong, why would she be sailing alongside an American warship?”
“Perhaps it is Taiwanese, not American.”
“Impossible,” Jung Hai said. “Only the US Navy operates Ticonderoga-class cruisers.”
“Shall we go in for a closer look?”
“Yes,” Jung Hai said. “Ensign Wo Ju, begin a circular pattern. Fly a moving circumference of five hundred yards around the ships.”
“Yes, sir,” the copilot said.
Bridge
USS Vicksburg
South China Sea
108 miles south of Paracel Islands (Xisha Qundao)
course 094 degrees
5:32 a.m. local time
Skipper!” Lieutenant Morrison shouted. “No response to our IFF transmittal. Based on radar imagery, the plane appears to be a heavy bomber. Probably PRC, not Taiwanese. It’s cutting a course toward us, sir.”
“Very well, Lieutenant. Open a radio frequency to unidentified aircraft. Lieutenant Klifton, lock on fire-control radar at my command.”
“Aye, sir,” both Morrison and Klifton said.
“Captain. Hailing frequency open.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Kruger picked up the microphone for shortwave transmissions. “To approaching aircraft. This is the captain of the American warship USS Vicksburg. State your identity and intentions. Over.”
Five seconds passed. Then another five. “Lieutenant Klifton. Light ‘em up with fire-control radar!”
“Aye, Captain. Activating fire-control radar.”
“If this bird starts acting too funny, we’re gonna take her out.”
Harbin SH-5 maritime bomber
People’s Liberation Naval Air Force
altitude 2,000 feet
South China Sea
5:33 a.m. local time
Lieutenant,” Copilot Ensign Wo Ju said. “They’ve lit us up with fire-control radar!”
“They’re gonna take us out,” Jung Hai said. He had to think. “Ensign, open an emergency frequency to Beijing. Report our coordinates, and report that we think we’ve found the Shemnong and that she’s headed zero-nine-four degrees under the escort of the American cruiser USS Vicksburg.”
“Yes, Lieutenant. Opening emergency frequency now.”
Bridge
USS Vicksburg
South China Sea
108 miles south of Paracel Islands (Xisha Qundao)
course 094 degrees
5:34 a.m. local time
Still no response, Captain,” the XO, Commander Bennett, said. Kruger depressed the transmit button again. “Attention unidentified aircraft. This is the captain of the USS Vicksburg. State your intentions now. If you refuse to answer, and if you continue to approach, you will be shot down.”
Squawking. “This is the commander of the Harbin SH-5 warplane of the People’s Liberation Army-Navy. Be advised that our intentions are peaceful. We are on a search-and-rescue mission for a missing civilian freighter, the M/V Shemnong, which is flying under the flag of the People’s Republic of China. We have no intentions of making any low-altitude flights over your ship, Captain. We have detected your weapons system’s lock-on with fire-control radar. Please be advised that your fire-control radar will not be necessary. Over.”
The radio went silent.
“What would you like me to do about the fire-control radar, sir?” the weapons officer asked.
Captain Kruger stood up and folded his arms. “Would you trust a Communist, Lieutenant?”
“Sir. No, sir.”
“Well, I know it’s been a long, hard night, but does your captain look suddenly stupid?”
“Sir. No, sir.”
“Then stay locked onto that plane until I instruct otherwise, and be prepared to fire on my command.”
Harbin SH-5 maritime bomber
People’s Liberation Naval Air Force
altitude 1,000 feet
South China Sea
5:38 a.m. local time
Make a sweeping bank out to the left and in front of the ships. No maneuvers to make it appear that we are plotting direct overflight,” the pilot, Lieutenant Jung Hai, said to his copilot, Ensign Wo Ju.
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“Then bring our altitude to five hundred feet. I want as close a look as possible without making anyone trigger-happy.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jung Hai had given Wo Ju control of the cockpit so that he could free his hands and study the two ships through his binoculars. And as his plane executed a wide loop out in front of the two ships, Jung Hai looked out from the left cockpit window. The ships were steaming straight at him, with the sleek gray cruiser about a hundred yards to the left of the wide black freighter.
“To the pilot of the PRC SH-5 maritime bomber.”
Ju Hai dropped the binoculars to respond to the radio call. “This is the PRC. Go ahead, US warship.”
“This is the captain of the USS Vicksburg. We note your intentions of avoiding low-altitude overflight of this ship. That statement is helpful and we expect you to abide by it. However, because we are operating in hostile waters involving armed conflict between the military forces of the People’s Republic of China and Taiwan, our current rules of engagement do not permit us to disengage fire-control radar from either party. Just last night, we were forced to lock our missiles on a Taiwanese warship for the same reason. As long as you maintain your stated position of avoiding direct low overflight and demonstrate no hostile intentions, we would anticipate no action other than fire-control radar.”
“Bank wide and left,” Jung Hai said to the copilot. “No closer than five hundred yards.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lieutenant Jung Hai depressed the transmit button. “US Navy warship.
This is PRC maritime bomber. Confirm again our intentions of no low-level flights over your ship. Please be advised of our intentions to maintain a circumference of no closer than five hundred yards around you. Over.”
Mild static in Jung Hai’s headset, and then, “PRC maritime bomber, this is US Navy warship. Confirm your intentions to maintain minimal five-hundred-yard distance. We will maintain fire-control radar lock until you break off. Over.”
“US Navy warship. PRC maritime bomber. Roger that.”
The plane banked farther to the left, this time out on the side next to the freighter. “Bring us in to about six hundred yards and hold there,” Jung Hai said.
“Yes, Lieutenant,” the copilot said.
Lieutenant Jung Hai picked up the digital camera with the telephoto lens and pointed it out to the left. Now he saw the black-hulled freighter churning low in the water and moving from right to left. Snap. From this distance, the lines of the ship looked identical to that of M/V Shemnong.
Snap … snap … snap …
“I think we have found our missing freighter, Ensign Wo.”
“That would appear to be the case, Lieutenant.”
The SH-5 continued its wide aerial sweep, rounding at an angle approaching five hundred yards off the stern of the two ships.
The vessels were cutting a course of zero-nine-four degrees, just south of due east. This course would take them toward the Philippines and north of Itu Aba.
The reflection of the rising sun swept across the top of the rolling swells. Jung Hai again brought the camera with its powerful telephoto lens to his eye. Propeller wash gushed behind the freighter, her engines pushing the ship through the water to the east, away from the plane.
Off to the right, more propeller wash churned behind the warship. He raised the camera, giving him a view of the cruiser’s gray stern. In the center of the stern, painted in black letters, was the word VICKSBURG.
Snap … snap …
Raising the camera again revealed the red, white, and blue of the flag of the United States of America flapping in the wind.
Snap … snap … snap …
Tilting the camera to the left showed the gulf of water between the two ships and then the stern of the freighter. Flying off the stern and flapping just as vigorously as the American flag was a red flag with a large golden star within an arc of four smaller golden stars in one corner.
The “Five-Star Red Flag” of the People’s Republic of China. Snap … snap …
He pointed the camera down below the flag, onto the black-painted stern of the ship. In the center of the stern, painted in white, was the ship’s name:
SHEMNONG
Below the name of the ship, painted in white, was the name of her home port:
QINZHOU, CHINA
“We’ve found our freighter!” Lieutenant Jung Hai exclaimed, depressing the shutter.
Snap … snap … snap … snap …
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“Ensign Wo, open a frequency to the freighter.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.” The copilot switched the front panel radio to the frequency used by civilian freighters on the high seas. “Frequency open, Lieutenant.”
“To the M/V Shemnong. This is PRC warplane. Acknowledge. Over.”
Bridge
USS Vicksburg
South China Sea
course 094 degrees
5:40 a.m. local time
Captain, the bomber is attempting radio contact with the Shemnong,” Lieutenant Morrison said.
“I hear that, Lieutenant,” Captain Kruger said. “Okay, not that I’m worried about the Shemnong talking back, since our people are over there driving her. But I’m not crazy about the idea of that plane signaling our coordinates to Beijing.”
A second passed. “Electronic jamming, Captain?”
“Absolutely, Lieutenant. Do it now.”
“Aye, sir.” Morrison flipped a series of switches on the panel at his workstation.
Harbin SH-5 maritime bomber
People’s Liberation Naval Air Force
altitude 1,000 feet
South China Sea
5:40 a.m. local time
Lieutenant! We’ve got jamming on our circuits! Powerful shortwave interference!”
“From the American warship,” the pilot, Lieutenant Jung Hai, said.
“No question, sir.” The copilot’s voice sounded nervous.
“I do not like the behavior of the American cruiser, nor do I trust its captain. Something is not right.”
“Agreed, sir,” Ensign Wo Ju said. “They may have started jamming to prevent us from broadcasting a distress signal if they open fire on us, sir.”
Jung Hai felt his stomach knotting. “Good point, Wo Ju. Break off from the American ship. Go to ten thousand feet and ten miles downrange. Let’s get out from under the umbrella of this jamming signal and radio in our coordinates. I’m sure Beijing is going to want to follow up with this.”
“Yes, sir, Lieutenant.” The copilot pulled up on the stick and increased the throttle. The SH-5 climbed, pulling away from the freighter and cruiser, and headed back to the west.
Bridge
USS Vicksburg