by Don Brown
“Tiger Three. Shi Lang Control. Have the Americans locked on or engaged in any hostile action?”
“Shi Lang Control. Tiger Three. That’s a negative. Anticipate hostilities could be imminent.”
Pang looked up to his left. One of the Seahawks had made a wide loop and was now flying alongside one of the troop helicopters. To the right, the other Seahawk had performed an identical maneuver, and the two American attack choppers were now flanking the three Chinese choppers, an air armada of five all flying toward the freighter and the American warship.
Pang now questioned the wisdom of his superiors. Did they think the Americans were simply going to let them fly in, lower the Marines, and take the Shemnong back? Perhaps the mission plan had been miscalculated.
“Tiger Three. Shi Lang Control.”
“Tiger Three. Go ahead, Shi Lang,” Pang said.
“Tiger Three. Scrambling two J-11 fighters. ETA less than fifteen minutes. Proceed with mission as ordered. Take no provocative actions unless the Americans show signs of belligerency.”
“Shi Lang Control. Tiger Three. Roger that. Proceeding with mission as ordered. Awaiting J-11 fighter jet air cover.”
US Navy SH-60R Seahawk helicopter (codename Seahawk One) en route between USS Vicksburg and unidentified aircraft over the South China Sea
Vicksburg Control. Seahawk One,” Lieutenant Getman said.
“Seahawk One. Vicksburg. Go ahead.”
“Sir, we have visual on three PRC helos. We count one Z-10 attack helicopter and two MI-17 troop transport choppers. We’re flanking all three choppers now, and they’re flying a course straight for you.”
Three seconds passed. “Roger that, Lieutenant. Which one’s the attack bird?”
“Vicksburg Control. Seahawk One. The Z-10 is flying in the middle, with the troop transports flanking it. We’re flanking the outside troop transport choppers.”
“Seahawk One. Roger that,” Captain Kruger said. “We note primary target is in the middle of the formation. I’d advise you and Seahawk Two to spread your distance a bit. If we have to take a shot at the Z-10, I’d hate to have you flying through that fallout.”
“Seahawk One. Roger that.”
“Seahawk Two. Roger that, Skipper. Moving out another thousand yards.”
Z-10 attack helicopter (codename Tiger Three)
People’s Liberation Naval Air Force
altitude 1,000 feet
South China Sea
Ensign Xu,” Pang Wenjun said to his copilot, “what is our ETA to target?”
“ETA to target is five minutes, sir.”
“Fabulous,” Pang mumbled. “We will arrive a full ten minutes before fighter cover arrives.”
“Sir! The American helicopters are moving away. Perhaps they have become disinterested.”
Pang looked out to both the left and the right. Both American choppers were executing “peel away” maneuvers, opening up the distance between them and the MI-17s. “I doubt they are disinterested, Ensign.” He checked his heads-up display. Four minutes to target. “I do not have a good feeling about this.”
CHAPTER 21
Bridge
USS Vicksburg
South China Sea
Preparing to execute course change, sir,” the navigator for the USS Vicksburg announced.
“Belay that order,” Captain Kruger said. “Hold off course change pending further instructions. Maintain current course, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, sir,” the navigator said.
“No point in having those choppers radio our course change back to the carrier.”
“Good point, sir,” the XO said.
“Lieutenant Morrison.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Open a frequency to those Chinese helicopters.”
“Yes, sir.” The communications officer punched several buttons at his work station. “Opening frequency now, Captain. Transmit at your pleasure, sir.”
Kruger depressed the transmit button. “To the helicopters from the People’s Republic of China approaching from the west. This is the captain of the USS Vicksburg. You are instructed to turn away from any flight path that brings you in the vicinity of the USS Vicksburg. Your failure to do so will be considered a hostile act. You have one minute to comply. Over.” He lowered the microphone. “Mark the time for ninety seconds, Mr. Morrison.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Kruger glanced at the sweeping second hand on the clock mounted on the bulkhead. Then it hit him: He might be the man who would fire the first shot in World War III. All those years of twentieth-century naval doctrine that focused on the former Soviet Union as the military opponent, and now there was a new Raging Dragon on the block.
“WEPS. Prepare to lock on and take out those choppers on my order. Target the Z-10 in the middle first.”
“Aye, Captain,” the weapons officer said.
With that order, a war fever swept the bridge.
“But Captain.” The XO’s voice displayed a tinge of fear.
“Yes, XO.”
“Sir, are we at least going to issue a warning before we fire on them?” Commander Bennett asked.
“I just issued them a warning, XO.”
“But, sir, you told them to turn back. You did not tell them that we were going to fire on them.”
“XO …” Kruger paused. He was fuming that his own XO would question him in front of his men. He had to maintain his cool. “XO, I just warned them that if they continue to proceed in this direction for more than one more minute, that would be considered a hostile act. Now the good news for them is that I’m giving them a little bit more than a minute. But if I tell them specifically that I’m getting ready to fire on them, then they just might decide to fire on us first. And that Z-10 helicopter is carrying some rockets under its belly that could make life unpleasant if one of ‘em exploded in the middle of this bridge. I have lives that I’m responsible for, and I’m not going to make the same mistake that Captain Brindle did on the Stark by waiting too long. My decision is not up for a vote.” He paused. “Any other questions, XO?”
“No, sir. My apologies, sir.”
“Time, Mister Morrison.”
“Forty-five seconds, sir.”
“WEPS, prepare to lock and fire.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Z-10 attack helicopter (codename Tiger Three)
People’s Liberation Naval Air Force
altitude 1,000 feet
South China Sea
Lieutenant Pang Wenjun flipped the switch arming the three TL-10 “Sky Dragon” anti-ship missiles hanging under his chopper. The Sky Dragons were equipped with airborne radar based on the “launch and forget” guidance system.
If the missiles did not sink the Vicksburg, they would inflict tons of damage and kill a lot of American sailors.
Pang rested his thumb on the “fire” button. He was now in a dangerous game of chicken with the American captain as to who would launch missiles first—or if either would launch any.
“Lieutenant! Freighter and American vessel are in sight!”
Pang looked up. Two ships, steaming side by side, were way out in front of the choppers, cutting a path to the east through the glistening sun-sparkled water. The freighter was off to the left, and American cruiser was to her right, cutting a wake about half as wide as the wake of the freighter. At that moment, Pang again remembered that the brother of the president of the People’s Republic was aboard the freighter.
CHAPTER 22
Bridge
USS Vicksburg
South China Sea
Weapons officer! Fire missiles!”
“Firing missiles! Aye, sir!”
Captain Kruger watched his weapons officer depress the fire-control button. Vicksburg’s SPG-62 fire-control radar locked onto the targets, and he heard a clear whoosh sound. Two RIM-66 medium-range surface-to-air missiles, each fifteen feet in length, carrying blast fragmentation warheads, streaked into the sky.
This wou
ld be a point-blank shot.
Z-10 attack helicopter (codename Tiger Three)
People’s Liberation Naval Air Force
altitude 1,000 feet
South China Sea
Beep … beep … beep … beep …
“Missiles in the air!” the copilot screamed.
Pang looked down in time to see the flashing red missile-warning light.
“Evasive maneuvers!” he screamed and yanked the control stick to the left.
The white-hot blast and explosion would be the last things he ever heard, saw, and felt.
CHAPTER 23
Bridge
USS Vicksburg
South China Sea
Bull’s-eye, Captain!” the weapons officer said. “Both missiles on target! We got the Z-10 and one of the troop transport choppers, sir!”
Aft television monitors recording the attack showed the remnants of two white fireballs streaking down into the sea.
“Third chopper is turning around, Captain,” the radar officer said.
“Can’t say as I blame ‘em,” Kruger said. “WEPS! Initiate electronic jamming! I don’t want this reported yet.”
“Initiating jamming. Aye, Captain,” the weapons officer said.
“Skipper! Two more bogies inbound! Based on speed and range, looks like fighters, sir!”
“Initiate IFF! Get more missiles on the rack! Prepare to fire on my order!”
“Aye, aye, Captain!”
MI-17 troop transport helicopter (codename Hedgehog Two)
People’s Liberation Naval Air Force
altitude 1,000 feet
South China Sea
Senior Lieutenant Liao Guo, at the controls of the MI-17 troop transport chopper carrying fifteen armed PRC Marines, pulled hard left on the control stick, turning the helicopter back toward the southwest, away from the American warship.
He punched the emergency transmit button that would activate a frequency wired to the home ship.
“Shi Lang! Hedgehog Two! We’re under attack! Two choppers down! Repeat. We’re under attack!”
Static. Nothing.
Liao switched to air-to-air frequencies for the approaching J-11 fighter jets.
“Leopard Cat! Hedgehog Two! We’re under attack! Two choppers down! Tiger Three and Hedgehog One have been shot down. PRC helicopters are under attack! Repeat! We are under attack!”
No response. Only high-frequency interference. The Americans, he realized, were about to put a surface-to-air missile up his rear end! His only prayer was to fly low, just over the surface of the water, get as far away as he could, and hope that the built-in radar on the American missile could not find him.
“Hang on!” he called out to the Marines in the cargo bay, and then it hit him that he had lost his best friend in the world, Lieutenant Pang Wenjun. But he could not think of that now. He was running on instinct—survival instinct—for himself, for his copilot, and for the fifteen Marines in the back of his chopper.
Liao pushed hard on the control stick. The chopper responded, racing down toward the water.
J-11 fighter jet (codename Leopard Cat Leader)
People’s Liberation Naval Air Force
altitude 2,000 feet
course 091 degrees
South China Sea
Senior Lieutenant Qui Jian, strapped into the cockpit of the J-11 fighter streaking across the skies above the South China Sea to the east at supersonic speed, glanced at the jet’s radar screen. Something seemed amiss. Could it be a computer malfunction? A software problem? A blown circuit?
He flipped on the radio circuit, opening a broadcast channel to the other J-11 jet on this mission, flying one hundred yards off his right wing.
“Leopard Cat Two. Leopard Cat Leader. I’ve lost our three choppers off my radar screen. Do you still have them on yours?”
“Leopard Cat Leader. Leopard Cat Two. That’s a negative, sir. Two of them disappeared off my screen thirty seconds ago. The third appeared to be executing a turn away from the target destination, and then it disappeared off the screen.”
“Leopard Cat Two,” Qui said, “have you received any radio transmissions from any of the choppers?”
Static. “That is a negative, sir.”
“Very well,” Qui said. Something was wrong. This wasn’t a radar problem.
“Leopard Cat Leader! I’m receiving an IFF from the American warship.”
Qui looked at his heads-up display. “I’m getting one too. Stand by while I alert the Shi Lang!”
He switched the frequency to contact the aircraft carrier.
“Shi Lang Control. Leopard Cat Leader.”
“Leopard Cat Leader! Shi Lang. Go ahead.”
“Shi Lang. Be advised that all three helicopters have disappeared from our radar. Choppers were on final approach to target. Also, we’ve just received an IFF ping from the American warship. I believe this is a hostile situation. Please advise.”
Bridge
USS Vicksburg
South China Sea
Skipper!” the weapons officer said. “Third chopper is descending.
Looks like they’re trying to drop off our radar. Do you want me to take ‘em out or let ‘em go?”
The bridge was now a swirl of activity. In the midst of it was Captain Leonard Kruger, who knew how imperative it is for the captain of a warship to make the correct decisions, without error, and to do so in a manner that advances his mission, protects the lives of his crew, and protects the interests of the United States of America.
The decision regarding the third PRC helicopter was one such predicament.
“Any change in course for that third helicopter?”
“No, sir, Captain. Still headed two-seven-zero degrees. Due west. Away from our position, sir.”
Kruger’s mind raced for the correct decision. On the one hand, the chopper had turned away, as it was ordered to do. And, as a troop transport chopper, it posed no direct military threat to the Vicksburg.
On the other hand, that chopper would soon be out of the range of the Vicksburg’s ability to jam it. Once that happened, it would alert the carrier that the Vicksburg has just splashed two of the three choppers and would provide the exact location of the attack.
Kruger was confident in his ability to defend his ship against a plane or two—although even that was a very dangerous proposition. But if the captain of the Shi Lang launched his whole air wing against the Vicksburg, it would be ball game over.
If he took the third chopper out, that would raise the level of international tensions already certain to be red hot between the US and China. Plus, he might need every surface-to-air missile in his arsenal if Shi Lang sent more planes his way, and he knew in his gut that the two jets headed his way right now were Chinese.
“Let the chopper go, Lieutenant. I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna need every spare missile before this is over.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” the weapons officer said.
“Captain!” the radar officer said. “IFF verifies those jets are not ours and don’t belong to any of our allies.”
“Same bearing and speed, Lieutenant?”
“Aye, sir. Still bearing straight down on our position.”
“Sir,” the XO said, “should we open a channel to warn them to turn back like we did with the helicopters?”
“Let me think about that, XO.”
Kruger had maybe ten seconds to make a decision. The notion of warning an opponent before firing had always been a part of a chivalrous American military tradition. Truman had warning leaflets dropped over Japan before the Enola Gay bombed Hiroshima. And before that, the Potsdam Declaration had promised Japan prompt and utter destruction if it did not surrender.
But since 1945, in an age of smart bombs and guided missiles, war strategy had been modified by technological necessity. The disastrous lessons of the USS Stark, alongside the lessons of HMS Ardent, HMS Antelope, and HMS Sheffield, had been beaten into the heads of every American captain. In an
age of missile warfare on the high seas, sometimes, to survive, one had to fire first and ask questions later. But firing first, especially against the world’s fastest-rising military power, could mean war.
“No time for warnings,” Kruger announced. “Lock onto those jets and fire two missiles now! One for each plane. Then fire two more. Let me know when we’ve locked onto targets.”
“Aye, Captain. Locking on now,” the weapons officer said.
“But Captain,” the XO said.
“We can’t afford to miss, XO. We’ve got to take out those jets before they take us out.”
“I’ve got a lock, Captain! Missiles ready. Fire at your command, sir!”
“Fire missiles!”
“Firing missiles! Aye, Captain!”
Vicksburg rocked, and they all heard a clear whoosh.
Two more RIM-66 medium-range surface-to-air missiles streaked out into the sky, racing at supersonic speeds to the west.
“Fire missiles three and four!”
“Firing missiles! Aye, sir!”
Another whoosh.
Kruger folded his arms and watched the closed-circuit television images of four surface-to-air missiles streaking off to the west in the morning sky. He could only wait and pray that those missiles hit their targets before the targets could launch any missiles of their own.
J-11 fighter jet (codename Leopard Cat Leader)
People’s Liberation Naval Air Force
altitude 1,600 feet
course 091 degrees
South China Sea
Beep … beep … beep … beep …
“Missile in the air! Make that two missiles!”
Senior Lieutenant Qui Jian looked down at the flashing red missile-alarm light, just as Lieutenant Long Xiang, the pilot of the other J-11, screamed over the air-to-air frequency: “Make that three missiles inbound! Now four!”
“Long Xiang!” Qui said. “Fire and break!”