Seawolf tsf-2

by David E. Meadows

  “Bob, the colonel’s right,” Roger said, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “Doesn’t sound as if the North Koreans are posturing.”

  General Eaglefield pushed his chair back and rose. “Mr. President, with your permission, I would like to return to the Pentagon. These new developments influence our plans for the Mediterranean.” “What do you mean. General?” the president asked, concern in his voice.

  “Mr. President, we have about twenty thousand troops on the ground in South Korea. Most of them are light infantry supported with a couple of Air Force fighter squadrons. The United States purposely left those forces behind, during the drawdown, to support the South Korean government and act as a trip wire for American intervention. They can fight, but only for a limited time.” He took a deep breath. “Our forces lack the firepower, numbers, or logistics to stop a determined North Korean push into South Korea. Plus, they are on the front lines at the DMZ intermingled with the South Koreans.

  We would sustain significant casualties during the early hours of a major assault.”

  “General, we have forces in Japan. We can move them into South Korea.

  If we build up South Korea, then the North Koreans will see the resolve, settle down, and return to their normal seething turmoil within their own borders,” President Crawford said hopefully. “Where’s the nearest carrier?”

  “The nearest carrier is stationed in Yokoto, Japan. Depending on where she is, we can move her off the coast of the Korean Peninsula. As for the option of moving forces from Japan, like the Mediterranean, over the years, we have recalled our overseas forces from the Pacific. We have no ground troops in Japan or Okinawa. The nearest ones are in California.”

  “Of course, with the North Koreans, you never know what they’ll do,” Roger Maddock added. “Sensible nations do rational things. With the North Koreans, they tend to act irrational and never worry about why the world reacts as it does. It’s like dealing with an obstinate, surly teenager.”

  “Unfortunately, in this case, the obstinate, surly teenager is psychotic and has long-range missiles,” General Eaglefield added.

  “Let’s hope that a show of force will temper any ill conceived plans they may have,” the president replied. “Roger, we should be able to continue with our response in the Mediterranean. Right?”

  The secretary of defense looked to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to reply.

  “Yes, sir, but the 82nd Airborne, 101st Airborne, and mechanized infantry at Fort Stewart are also the contingency forces for a Korean conflict. We lack the active-duty forces to meet both. Our Major Regional Conflict — MRC — plans place a Korean crisis above events in the Mediterranean.”

  “Why?”

  “Sir?” General Eaglefield asked, unsure as to what the president meant.

  “Mr. President,” Bob Gilfort interjected. “In the Korean Peninsula, we are talking about direct conflict on territory occupied by an ally and, by treaty, under the defensive umbrella of America.”

  “The Med can be held with forces already in theater until the Stennis arrives,” General Eaglefield added.

  “Let me make sure I understand,” the president said. He pointed his pen at the secretary of state. “Bob, you’re telling me regardless of the fact that U.S. forces have been attacked, an American warship has been sunk, and there are American dead in Europe, that the saber-rattling by North Korea takes precedence?” He then looked at the general. “And General Eaglefield, you’re telling me that the forces we intended to send to Europe in response to Libya’s attack are the forces that we must send to Korea if we have a war there?”

  Both the secretary of state and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff nodded, as did the secretary of defense, who was drumming his pencil on the table.

  “Okay. This has the potential of a quagmire where we find ourselves doing nothing. I don’t want to do nothing. I want to do something that sends the right message to both Libya and North Korea. So, tell me what that something is going to be.” The president looked at Bob Gilfort. “Bob, what can we do politically to resolve both these crises?”

  “Mr. President, I would like to consult with my staff before offering advice. I want to ensure that every option is considered and fully vetted.”

  President Crawford looked over his bifocals at General Eaglefield.

  “Sir, I, too, need to sit down with the other chiefs and determine how we can best employ our forces. We need to send the right message to both sides of the world and at the same time make sure that those forces are capable of exercising whatever option they are called upon to do.”

  “Okay, I need results.” The president stood. This was definitely going to be a legacy-making event. Everyone rose. “I think we’ll adjourn to give everyone an opportunity to weigh the situations and come back with some ideas. I expect everyone back here by six p. m.” He looked down at the DCI. “You hear the time, Farbros?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be on time. Mr. President, I do have something. We believe that the North Koreans are being manipulated by the Chinese.”

  The president sat back down. “How and why?” His voice betrayed disbelief. “The Chinese enjoy favored-nation trade status with us. We are their largest market for the cheap goods they make.

  They wouldn’t dare jeopardize that.” Crawford shook his head. “No, I don’t think they’d jeopardize that.”

  “We don’t know the why, but several events have occurred to indicate the actions by North Korea are in response to a guarantee of increased food aid and unknown economic and military considerations by China.”

  “Why would China stir up a crisis near her own borders? It doesn’t make sense, Farbros. China is having near-record economic growth, and for the past few years has begun to exert some positive world influence.”

  “It’s still a Communist country, Mr. President, and its goal of driving Western influence from Asia and becoming a world superpower has never wavered.”

  “So? What does that mean, Farbros?”

  “Mr. President, the North Korean action is a ruse. They will not cross the DMZ in force nor will they push the envelope to the point that we’ll be compelled to counterattack.”

  “Well, they’ve already done something to encourage a counterattack.

  Regardless of what they intended, we have to respond. They crossed the DMZ when they bombed Seoul.”

  “We have a commitment to the people of South Korea,” added the secretary of state. “If we don’t respond, and Farbros is right that it is a ruse, then they could easily change their plans and turn a ruse into an actual invasion of South Korea.”

  “Yes, and we have nearly twenty thousand military men and women based in South Korea who would be in danger if the North Koreans invade,” added the secretary of defense.

  “I know. I know all that,” whined the DCI. “Even so, the Chinese military has increased its meetings with their North Korean counterparts. North Korean military observers were recently invited to the annual Chinese exercise near the Chinese-Russian border — first time in ten years. Following the exercise, the North Korean generals and their Chinese counterparts spent a week in Hong Kong in secret, closed door meetings. We believe that a Chinese sale of advanced Information Technology, along with replacement fighter aircraft for the North Koreans, have been offered in return for some yet-to-be-identified service. We believe this ruse is part of the agreement.”

  A cough at the other end of the table drew the president’s attention to the director of the National Security Agency. “General Stanhope, you have something to add?”

  “Yes, sir. We are still putting all the factors together, but we have some disjointed facts that may support Mr. Digbyjones. They also relate to the sinking of the USS Gearing and the air attacks against Souda Bay and Sigonella. Mr. President, I need to caution, sir, that this is unevaluated raw intelligence and we are still analyzing the data.”

  “Well, go ahead, General, and let me be the judge.”

  “Yes, sir. W
e detected unusual data activity between Libya and the People’s Republic of China earlier this week. Within forty-eight hours after detecting this anomaly, Libya attacked the Gearing. Another item of interest is that the unit in China that received the data was their Information Warfare unit. Two hours after the data was sent from Libya, this Chinese unit passed unknown instructions to the North Koreans. While we have yet to correlate the satellite screwups, the fact that their readings are erroneous suggests an attack against their computer algorithms — an Information Warfare unit would have that capability.”

  “You’re right, General. I think we are seeing ghosts in the pantry.”

  “But, Mr. President—” Farbros started.

  “Yes, sir, you may be right,” General Stanhope agreed. “But before I departed Fort Meade, we were seeing unexplained activity between the North Korean military headquarters and subordinate military units.”

  “Thanks, General,” President Crawford said curtly. Then he added, “And to you also, Farbros. You’re the DCI. You and General Stanhope figure out what this means. I have enough information for a major headache. I intend to go upstairs to see Mrs. Crawford and have her rub my temples. When I see you next, I want answers. We need to move fast.

  If we don’t, events will continue to dictate our actions. We’ve got a runaway stagecoach heading downhill, with no one driving. I want to grab those reins before it’s too far gone for us to steer.”

  Everyone stood again in response to the president standing.

  There was a knock on the door, immediately followed by the entry of the chairman of the Joint Chief of Staff’s executive assistant. Heads turned as the Air Force colonel hurried to General Eaglefield and handed him a message.

  General Eaglefield read the message before looking at the president.

  “What is it, General?” the president asked, raising his bushy eyebrows.

  “It’s a message from the USS Stennis, Mr. President.”

  “What does it say?” Roger Maddock asked.

  “The Stennis acknowledges the order to return to Norfolk in paragraph one of the message. In paragraph two he says—” The General looked down at the message. “It might be better if I read it, sir.”

  He cleared his throat and began to read. “

  “Unless otherwise directed, Stennis will not return to Norfolk. Ready for deployment now. I have twenty-eight fighters on board, am escorted by the destroyers USS John Rodgers and Ramage and the cruiser USS Hue City, along with the auxiliary ship Concord. Our sterns are to the west, our weapons point east, and our hearts and souls are with the officers and sailors of USS Gearing. I estimate Gibraltar in four days at flank speed. If additional fighterbombers available, am prepared to embark them.

  Otherwise I go to join the Mediterranean Fleet as armed and to avenge the Gearing.” Signed, Richard A. Holman, Commanding Officer, USS Stennis.”

  General Eaglefield handed the message back to the colonel. “Mr. President, Mr. Secretary, with your permission, I request to be excused.”

  “Where are you going?” the president asked.

  “I’m going to find some aircraft, sir, for Captain Holman. As you directed, we are returning to the Med. And I think America has just found one of the warriors to do it.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “What the hell does he want this time, Duncan?” Beau asked, pointing to the closed door. He stood with his feet slightly apart and bounced his body back and forth off the bulkhead of the passageway.

  “I have no idea, unless it’s to provide more advice.” “I hope not,” Beau said, shaking his head. “He’s a master of taking thirty minutes to pass three minutes’ worth of information. I hope he realizes we have things to do.”

  Duncan touched the folded paper in his pocket, his thoughts turning to its contents as Beau’s conversation turned to the members of the team.

  He heard HIs name a couple of times. Duncan had read and reread what his buddy Bill Hodges had sent. He needed to write a reply, but what do you say? There was little the admiral who’d shanghaied him for this job could do, even if Duncan had confidence in the two-star to do it. It was his headache, and a civil matter to boot.

  Beau punched him on the shoulder. “Captain, you listening to me? I said, did you know she boxed during college?” He reached up and ran his hand through his unruly blond hair.

  “Of course, I’m listening. Who boxed during college?”

  “Who do you think we’ve been talking about? H. J.” that’s who.”

  Duncan shook his head. “Against other women?” he asked, though his thoughts wandered to Reston. He wondered if his wife had found the dog’s body. He wished he’d had time to bury it rather than leave it in the garage stuffed in an old trunk.

  “No! In the male smokers. Said she actually won a couple because the men were hesitant to hit her, so she beat the shit out of them for being male chauvinists.” He grinned. His neon-blue eyes sparkled. “I bet there’s a red hourglass tattooed on her stomach just above the number-two barbwire pierced through her navel.”

  “Beau, I’ve got other things on my mind than your sex life. So don’t put me in an awkward position where I have to think of my pension. I’m too short, with too many things going on, to be dumping pails of cold water on you. Besides, for some ungodly reason, I like you. You’re like a pet to me, so don’t make me rub your nose in your mess. You see, I won’t endanger my pension for you — though, the way my luck’s going, my soon-to-be ex-wife will take most of it to spend on that boy toy of hers.”

  Beau touched his heart. “Duncan, how can you ever think that I would do something so outrageous; especially on a U.S. Navy ship of war. Why, it’s — it’s unthinkable! It’s pure nonsense. Besides, we haven’t been able to find an appropriate place to even discuss weapons, much less sex.” He wondered if H. J.“s nipples were pink or brown.

  “Good, then don’t. Stay on the professional level,” Duncan replied. He rubbed the hard features of his face. His index finger lightly stroked the three-inch shrapnel scar on his left cheek courtesy of Desert Storm. He needed another shave. There was no reason for Hodges to have sent him on this trip. The admiral must have a hidden agenda. Two sailors hurried past, causing the two men to step back to make way.

  “But we both know that strict professional relationships have never built the camaraderie needed for war,” Beau added after the two sailors passed.

  “True, but sex hasn’t either.”

  The door opened. Commander Mulligan, the short pudgy intelligence officer, and Commander Peter Naismith, the tall, lean, Task Force 61 operations officer, stood just inside, reminding Duncan of the old comedy team of Laurel and Hardy.

  “Come in,” said the commodore, blocking the door. He moved aside.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, but we were going over the rescue operation for those poor souls on the Gearing. The Miami continues enroute and should arrive sometime tomorrow. Meanwhile, we have the problem of the Libyans. We don’t want them rescuing our sailors. The last thing we need is another Kodak film moment of our people being marched through the streets of Tripoli like our prisoners of war during Vietnam.”

  The intelligence officer’s eyes were red and bloodshot, making Duncan think of a road map of New Jersey. An intelligence officer’s job like Commander Mulligan’s would have been boring as hell for Duncan. Lots of work, little appreciation, and if you’re wrong once, off the ship, off the staff, and out of the service. He thought of them as public affairs officers with a top-secret clearance.

  The inevitable chart was taped to the table with red lines and black overlays displaying various options for an evacuation of Algiers.

  “Duncan, something important has come up and you’re the only game in town to do it. You and your teams,” Commodore Ellison said as he moved to the other side of the table so he could face the two Navy SEALs.

  “This is top secret, eyes only. Joint Chiefs of Staff called this morning. Apparently, President Alneuf had a secret agreement with the C
IA to get him out of Algeria if he ever needed to leave in a hurry.

  Last night he apparently contacted them and called in the marker. We’ve been tasked to go in and get him. Sorry, Duncan, but as this shit job rolls downhill, you’re the one stuck with it. You’re going to have to go into Algeria and bring out President Alneuf.” He shook his head.

  “It ain’t enough we don’t have the forces to rescue our own citizens; we’ve got to go rescue a foreigner who spent most of his time giving America the finger.”

  “President Alneuf? I take it then, Commodore, we know where he is?”

  The door opened and the communications officer, Lieu tenant Junior Grade Smith, apologized for interrupting and handed the commodore a sealed message.

  “What’s this?” Commodore Ellison asked, not expecting an answer and not receiving one. He tore the envelope open and removed the message.

  “Well, well, well,” he said, looking up and smiling. “Seems the old warrior spirit is still alive and kicking in some of us old veterans.

  Dick Holman. commanding officer of the USS Stennis, has turned his carrier battle group east and is heading this way. He estimates four days until he in chops the Med.”

  “That’s good news, Commodore,” the IO added.

  Duncan nodded. “Nothing like Naval air power to shore up a NEO.”

  “Good news? It’s great news! Means that in three days, with tankers, the Stennis can be in range to provide us air support. Nothing against the Marines and their Harriers, but Harriers can’t provide the air superiority we need to control the skies.”

  “I bet you they’re scrambling back on the East Coast now to identify fighters for Holman. Do you know him, Commodore?” Pete Naismith asked.

  “Yeah, I know Dick Holman. He got passed over for flag last year.”

  Ellison patted his stomach. “Failed the body-fat measurements. The man has a reputation for speaking his mind. Rumor has it, he has something in a fit rep when he was a junior officer about being a gregarious individual with great professional potential, but prefers to resolve personal differences with physical means. He’s probably lucky to still be in the Navy, and it’s a miracle he even made captain, much less commanding officer of a carrier. That being said, I’ 11 light a candle tonight for Dick Holman.