by Larry Bond
Smiling, Mitchell replied he’d do what he could, and returned to the bridge by way of the flight deck. At forty-one knots, the wind buffeted and tore at his clothes, but he stayed for a while, taking in the horizon, before going back inside. There was nothing to see, though. The Chinese were still too far astern.
Although they weren’t in sight, Mitchell knew the Chinese could see Gabby, both by radar from their scout helicopters and by her own radar emissions. There was no need to conceal her location. In fact, he was doing everything possible to broadcast his presence and precise location. Often warfare was about stealth and surprise. Today, Mitchell was doing his best to make sure there were no surprises.
The Fire Scout drone helicopter they’d launched earlier had taken over the trailing role. Its radar, data linked to Gabby, showed the Chinese formation still on course, at twenty-two knots. The escorting frigates and destroyers could do over thirty, but the big amphibious ships weren’t built for speed. Twenty-two was the best they could do, so that had to be the formation’s maximum speed.
The drone kept well clear. Its radar had the range to see the formation from thirty miles out, and the radar image was sharp enough to allow Mitchell to identify individual ships by class. He’d placed the drone so far out to make sure the Chinese wouldn’t think it was a threat. It was still close enough for the Chinese to shoot it out of the sky if they’d wanted to. That fact that they hadn’t was hopeful.
There was no “fog of war” in this meeting. Thanks to the Fire Scout drone, Mitchell could figure the exact moment when the Chinese formation would appear on the western horizon, just over twenty miles away.
He’d placed Gabby two miles inside Korean territorial waters, which meant the Chinese had nineteen miles to decide if they were ready to start a fight with the United States. Aircraft from the two sides had sparred over the Korean Peninsula, but that had been more chance meetings than deliberate engagements. This time, if they wanted to land their troops, they’d have to deliberately sink an American warship.
Gabby was at battle stations, which meant a total of eight people on the bridge and in ICC1. Mitchell spent most of the time while they waited in his chair. Pacing the bridge would just make everyone else nervous.
The entire crew understood their purpose, but Mitchell explained over the ship’s announcing system, “If we have to shoot, I’m going to wait until the Chinese formation’s a mile inside Korean waters. I’ll angle the ship to present a narrow aspect while keeping one of the Hellfire modules clear, and I’ll take her to maximum speed. Be prepared for sharp maneuvers. If there’s time, I’ll designate the target, but if they fire first, just concentrate everything on the nearest ship for as long as we can.” He paused for a moment, and added. “Good luck to us all, and God bless the US Navy.”
Lieutenant Sontez, the OOD for general quarters, asked, “Do you think they’ll let us get close enough to shoot?”
Mitchell laughed. “They won’t waste any missiles on us. Those destroyers each have an automatic 130mm gun forward. Effective range is thirteen miles. Since our 57’s and the Hellfires’ ranges are about half that, they have a six-mile margin. But they’ll be shooting at a fast, sharply maneuvering target.”
Petty Officer Booth added, “Skipper, I understand that we’re a speed bump, but I would like to get some hits in before we’re gone.”
Mitchell said, “Right now, the admiral running that formation is rereading his rules of engagement. We know the Chinese are willing to engage Korean units. Without us here, they’d sail right in and land their troops and raise all kinds of hell. But if we say ‘halt,’ then the admiral’s got to decide if sinking us is covered in his orders. It’s even money he’s been on the phone to his fleet commander. I just wish I could have listened in.”
Sontez reported, “Sir, the lead ship is ten miles from the line.”
“And twelve miles from us,” Mitchell responded. “Evidently they’re not ready to shoot us outright. Well, it’s time to see what they have in mind.” He picked up the microphone for the bridge-to-bridge radio. “Chinese formation, this is USS Gabrielle Giffords. State your intentions.”
There was no immediate reply. Mitchell was expecting that. He pressed the intercom. “ICC1, tell me when they are exactly five miles from the CTML.”
He could do the math. The three-minute rule meant that at twenty-two knots, they’d cover twenty-two hundred yards, just over a nautical mile. Subtracting that from ten nautical miles . . .
It kept his mind occupied, and he was only a minute off when ICC1 announced over the intercom. “Five miles, Skipper.”
He keyed the radio mike again. “Chinese formation, this is USS Gabrielle Giffords. If you enter Korean territorial waters, I will fire on you.” Mitchell repeated it, then changed frequencies, and repeated it again. Not that it wasn’t obvious.
He checked the bow gun’s display. It had an EO tracker, and it was centered on the bow of the lead destroyer. Even at several miles, it seemed to dwarf the smaller US ship.
Sontez announced, “Three miles.” After the captain acknowledged his report, the lieutenant stated flatly, “If they shoot, we’re dead. If we shoot, we’re dead.”
“A strong argument in favor of nobody shooting,” Mitchell confirmed. “But we aren’t going to let them push us around.”
“They’re at the twelve-mile limit, Captain.” Sontez’s report had a hint of resignation.
“Understood, OOD,” Mitchell replied. The resignation was echoed in Mitchell’s acknowledgment, but his orders were crystal clear. “All hands, stand by to engage the lead Chinese destroyer, bearing two three zero degrees, two eight hundred yards. Helm, come left to 225 degrees, all ahead . . .”
“Sir, they’re turning.” Even as Sontez announced the turn, Mitchell could see it on the monitor. The lead destroyer was no longer showing only its bow, but its starboard side. He used his glasses to check the other ships. They were all turning.
“Belay that order, Lieutenant! Come right to two five zero at fifteen knots. We’ll stay on our side of the line and match their speed and course.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Sontez couldn’t keep the relief out of his voice, and there were a few muted cheers from the watchstanders in ICC1 behind them. Captain Mitchell just kept the glasses raised, silently watching the Chinese do exactly what he’d bet on. They could still sink Gabby anytime they wanted, but it looked like they didn’t want to.
6 September 2015, 0400 local time
Seventh Air Force Headquarters
Osan Air Base, South Korea
“This time it was five missiles, Tony. Five!” General Randall Carter and his deputy were watching the stateside reaction to the latest North Korean missile launch. As focused as the newspeople were on the loss of life, they really hadn’t absorbed all the implications.
“It was probably every Musudan they had,” Tony commented. “It’s a big step forward, considering eight days ago, they fired one missile and missed completely.”
“It seems they finished reading the owner’s manual,” Carter replied darkly.
The flat-screen on the wall of Tony’s office showed the CNN feed. The banner across the bottom read “Breaking News: Lethal chemicals in warhead strike Guam”; the shaky image showed figures in bright yellow protective suits working with chemical detection kits. At MTV-like speed, the picture shifted to a roped-off wooded hillside, then plastic tents set up outside a hospital.
The on-screen anchor reported, “The chemical agent is still being identified, but it is some form of persistent nerve gas, which is making it very hard to decontaminate the victims. There have only been a few cases requiring treatment, though. Most victims die within minutes from asphyxiation.”
“I haven’t heard them say how big the affected area is,” Carter observed.
“Acres right now,” Tony answered. “But it’s spreading downwind. The only break we got was that one missile hit Apra Harbor dead center and landed in the water, and the other one a mile away
in a park.”
“And the battery on Guam shot two down,” Carter added. “That gives the bad guys a forty percent success rate, counting the one that broke up in flight.”
“But why the sub base at Guam?” Tony asked, secretly glad they weren’t trying to decontaminate Osan or Kunsan. “As a military target, US Navy subs aren’t their greatest threat.”
“They’re demonstrating range and striking power,” the general answered quickly. “They would have hit Pearl if they could, but two thousand miles is probably the best the Musudan could do.” It was supposedly a modified copy of a Russian SS-N-6 sub-launched ballistic missile, but nobody had hard data on its performance, it had never flown before, until now. It could carry explosive, chemical, or even nuclear warheads.
General Carter explained, “Before I came to watch the TV with you, I spoke to my counterpart in Seoul. The Korean government is going nuts, which means Washington will go nuts. Tokyo and Beijing will climb onto the bandwagon, too. And I think they’re justified. What’s left of the North Korean regime just demonstrated the ability to launch five long-range missiles simultaneously, armed with WMDs. It’s likely they have more missiles, possibly with even longer ranges, assuming the KN-08 is real, and we know the South Koreans haven’t been able to find a single nuke.”
“Do you think the Kim faction will try to bargain now?” Tony asked. “Use the threat of more attacks to make a deal?”
Carter shook his head. “Unlikely. They would have already claimed this attack as a ‘demonstration.’ There’s been nothing. Besides, the South—excuse me, the ‘United Han Republic’—would never accept it.”
“Then what’s the Kim faction’s goal?”
Carter laughed, but he wore a grim smile. “Who do you think is driving that nut wagon?”
Chapter 19 - Reality Check
6 September 2015, 11:00 a.m. local time
August 1st Building, Ministry of National Defense Compound
Beijing, People’s Republic of China
The translator had added a scrolling banner to the CNN image. The Mandarin characters carried either the dialogue or translated other relevant English text displayed on the screen.
They watched the Western broadcast in silence. “They were very fortunate it landed in a park,” the air force commander commented. His remark wasn’t directed to anyone in particular, but several of the CMC members nodded their agreement. Although only a few of the ministers could speak English, they were all still absorbing the news and understanding the implications for China.
President Wen abruptly entered the conference room and they all stood. Several latecomers followed him. Wen’s summons had been simply to meet “as soon as possible.”
Wen hurriedly gestured, and as they sat, he asked the defense minister, “Have they said anything new? How many dead?”
“It’s up to twenty-seven so far, all from exposure to a chemical agent. Some were first responders who came looking for casualties, and became victims instead.”
The Second Bureau minister reported, “My specialists say it was probably VX, a persistent nerve gas. The DPRK manufactured large quantities of it. It is colorless, odorless, and can’t be detected without specialized equipment. Inhalation causes almost immediate respiratory failure, as well as convulsions. We know they used both Sarin and VX in the fighting around Pyongyang.”
“Horrible. Pointless.” Wen shook his head sadly, stopped, and then straightened up in his chair. Addressing the entire group, he said, “With hindsight, Defense Minister Yu’s concerns now look more like predictions. Judging from your expressions, I think everyone is as horrified as I am. What’s left of the DPRK, concealed in their mountain fortress, is still very much a danger to anyone within their reach. Our army’s failure to force a river crossing earlier today only heightens the danger we face. Is the army commander still in transit?”
General Yu answered, “Yes, Comrade Chairman. In his absence, I’ve arranged a video conference with General Shi, who commanded the assault this morning.”
Wen nodded, and within moments, the CNN broadcast was replaced by a man in his early fifties with a weathered, square face in digital camouflage fatigues. He didn’t stand, but sitting straight up, said, “General Shi Yushang, commanding the Southeast Security Force.” He was inside a command vehicle, and while the video image was sharp, they had problems hearing the general over the background noise. An aide turned off several fans, and the sound quality dramatically improved.
General Shi sounded positive, although the news wasn’t good. “My units have regrouped and I can resume the attack tomorrow morning.”
“You’d been warned about the risk of chemical weapons, General. Why weren’t you properly prepared?” The chief of the Second Bureau sounded angry, but General Shi didn’t seem to notice.
“There were not enough protective suits for my entire force, and we prioritized the frontline units that were taking part in the assault, along with the combat engineers laying the bridges.”
“And instead, they concentrated on your artillery,” the defense minister concluded.
“DPRK counter-battery fire was accurate, and its effects were increased by the mix of chemical and explosive shells.” The general paused to rub his face. He looked tired, but that was to be expected. Wen knew he would have been organizing a dawn attack since the small hours. “The holdouts didn’t ignore my assault troops. They dropped just enough chemical shells there to force them to keep wearing the protective suits. And in spite of all our training and preparations, I’ve still got just as many casualties from heatstroke as I do from enemy fire.”
“And more from chemical weapons than bullets,” President Wen added. “What are your casualties?”
Shi scowled. “Approaching ten percent in the assault units, and over eighty percent in some of the artillery batteries. And I can’t just bring in new personnel. The artillery pieces themselves have to be decontaminated. New artillery units have been ordered in, but they won’t arrive until after dark at the earliest, and they’ll have to set up . . .”
Defense Minister Yu, a general himself, asked, “What kind of attack will you make this time?”
“Early tomorrow morning we will focus on a very narrow front, if the air force can help us out. I will bring up more artillery, but I’ll be firing at extreme range, which means it will be less accurate. And they’ve wrecked the pontoon bridges we did manage to lay, so I’ll have to use the reserve equipment, hence the narrow front.”
President Wen said, “Thank you, General Shi. Your service to China is an example to us all.” They cut the connection, and the president turned to the PLAAF chief of staff. “I assume you’re fulfilling his request.”
The general scowled. “We are sending him everything he’s asked for, but my specialists have their doubts. Aircraft aren’t always a good substitute for artillery, and not only do the DPRK forces have excellent antiaircraft defenses, but evidently the targets we are supposed to hit are virtually encased in concrete and rock. We will have to use penetrating precision-guided ordnance, and our stocks are not unlimited.” The general smiled. “It’s ironic that for many of these targets, the best option would be a chemical warhead.”
“But you will be able to do it,” Wen persisted.
“We will have to use war reserve stocks, but we will do it. The cost will be high, though.”
“Compared to the cost of losing even a single city to a nuclear weapon?” the defense minister asked sharply. Turning to Wen, he added, “General Shu is organizing the delivery of more equipment to General Shi, but the earliest any of it can get to him is very late today, or very early tomorrow. If everything goes smoothly.”
Wen nodded his understanding. “And in war, things rarely go smoothly. Minister Yu, I’m going to ask a question, not because I think it’s the best solution, but because we can’t afford to overlook any possibility.”
Yu answered guardedly, “Yes, Comrade Chairman.”
“Could the DPRK holdout
s and their nuclear weapons be quickly eliminated by several small nuclear weapons?” The senior officers present all looked aghast at the suggestion. Wen had expected their reaction, and quickly continued, “The area is sparsely settled, held by a group now almost universally despised, and possesses weapons of mass destruction that they have already used freely. We could make a strong case that the Northern holdouts pose a nuclear threat, not just to China but all of Asia and a good part of the Pacific.”
The president’s reasoning intrigued them. General Yu ordered the technicians, “Bring up the map of the holdouts’ area, with the known targets.” He and the air force minister left their chairs to study the screen, zooming the image until the features became blurs.
After several minutes of quiet conversation, the generals nodded in agreement, and Yu turned to face the group. “Small warheads won’t do the job. It would take at least nine large devices, with at least five hundred kiloton yields. Given the accuracy of even our newest missiles, and the hardening of the targets in that area, that gives us a virtual certainty of destroying or crippling all known targets.”
“Nine!” Wen exclaimed. “Is that because of the terrain?”
“Yes,” Yu confirmed. “The area is somewhat mountainous, and any storage bunkers are undoubtedly deeply buried in solid rock. The irregular landscape means even two nearby targets have to be attacked individually. And since we don’t have complete information on all the holdouts’ installations, any that are not specifically targeted will likely survive with little or no damage.”
The Second Bureau minister, in charge of intelligence, added, “My missile specialists are convinced that we still haven’t located their entire launch network.”
President Wen summarized, “And unless we target that installation directly, even with a nuclear weapon, we can’t be sure it will be destroyed.”
The minister nodded agreement. “My people have collected a lot of information, both from the sites we overran, and from South Korean and American news reports. The Kims went to astounding lengths to harden and hide their military installations. This is a case where conventional precision-guided ordnance will likely be as effective as a nuclear device,” he finished.