Red Tide: The Chinese Invasion of Seattle (Occupied Seattle Book 1)

by Christopher Kennedy

  Colonel Ware, a short, heavyset woman with thick-rimmed glasses, looked the part of an introspective intelligence officer. She sighed prior to giving her assessment. It’s never good when she starts that way, thought the general. “Well, sir,” began Colonel Ware, “they appear to have invaded Taiwan quite effectively. We have been watching one of their recent drills for the last week; apparently, it wasn’t a drill, it was the real thing. On the good side, we have a fairly accurate idea of their order of battle; however, that list of forces is pretty long, and almost all of it seems to have gone straight into Taiwan. The Taiwanese forces appear to be in full retreat from the southern portion of the island. We are unable to confirm any of this, though, as all of our reconnaissance satellites in the area are non-responsive.”

  The general looked confused. “What do you mean, ‘non-responsive’?”

  “We have lost communications with them,” said Colonel Ware. “We believe that they have been shot down by Chinese anti-satellite missiles.”

  “All of them?” asked the general.

  “Yes, all of them,” confirmed Colonel Ware. “Our Global Positioning Satellites and our communications satellites are also gone, which is going to severely degrade any operations we undertake in the area.”

  “So, what you’re telling me is that we really don’t have much of a clue about what is going on there, do we?”

  She shook her head. “We have, however, finally been able to get in touch with Okinawa and our other bases in the area. Even though Okinawa is outside the 200 mile exclusion area, it appears to have been pasted by Chinese ballistic and cruise missiles. The airbase was particularly hard hit.”

  She paused, shaking her head. “I just got word that the Chinese Ambassador delivered a note of apology to the president for the, quote, missile that went off target and struck Okinawa, unquote. There’s no way that the attack was an off-target missile, unless it had about 30 warheads that happened to fall off and hit individual targets. Not only that, but they would have been hard-pressed to analyze the data, agree on a response, write it and deliver it to the president in the limited amount of time since the strikes. The note of apology is nothing more than a clever public relations ploy to put us off balance and score points with the media,” she concluded. “I’m sure that Okinawa was the planned target for those strikes.”

  “Do we have any intel for Chinese operations in our area of responsibility?” asked the general.

  “No, sir,” responded Colonel Ware. “All we’ve been told is to ‘watch out for anything out of the ordinary, especially things going on in northwest Washington State.’ Sorry, sir, I know that’s not much help. I have all of my staff in here working at the moment, but the loss of power and then the internet for so long has hampered our collection and analysis efforts. I am able to tell you, sir, that the country-wide blackout that occurred simultaneously with the invasion of Taiwan has definitely been attributed to Chinese hackers, even though the Chinese are saying they had nothing to do with it. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it was intended to disrupt communications and command and control at the time that senior commanders needed to confer about what was to be done about the situation in Taiwan.”

  “Do we know what we are supposed to be watching for in northwest Washington State?” asked the Chief of Staff.

  “No sir,” replied Colonel Ware. “We weren’t told what was going on there, and I don’t think anyone knows exactly, but there have been some strange events and communications has been disrupted in the area. Apparently, all of the cell phone towers are out in the Seattle area, but no one has been able to figure out why. This disruption seemed to start at the same time as the power outage, but it seems like it’s more than that; power and communications haven’t been restored there yet, unlike in other areas, and some landline calls to people in the area reported an exercise in progress at NAS Whidbey Island, although no one knew there was one planned. The lack of communications has the senior leadership at both NORAD and the Pentagon worried; if the folks in Whidbey and Kitsap don’t hurry up and break radio silence, there are already whispers about which officers are going to lose their jobs. It’s a mess sir, and no one is sure why. Of note, we also haven’t heard anything from the Western Air Defense Sector Operations Control Center, located at McChord Field in Tacoma. They appear to be operational, but are not putting any tracks into the air defense system.”

  “General, we did notice one thing earlier about that region,” said Colonel Vincent. “The operations center said that there seemed to be an unusually high number of passenger aircraft flights from China to Seattle today. They asked one of the passing airliners why there were so many flights, and the airline pilot answered that they were a charter flight bringing automobile industry people to a conference that was being held there. We looked it up on the internet, which had come back up at that point, and confirmed that there was indeed a major trade show going on in Seattle. Still, it seems like there is more traffic than could be expected. If we were told to watch for something out of the ordinary, that’s it.”

  “All right,” said the general, “that’s at least something we can work on. I want every single airliner coming from China intercepted by a section of F-22s. If there is anything even the slightest bit out of the ordinary with any of them, I want it diverted here to Elmendorf for customs check-out. Every airliner gets intercepted, but I want the interceptors to join on the airliners from behind and stay out of sight for the time being. There’s no sense having them run to the press as soon as they get on the deck, complaining that they were intercepted for no reason. Let’s see if we can find out what these guys are up to.”

  Near Mt. Garfield, WA, 2110 Pacific Daylight Time

  “OK,” said Calvin hanging up the phone, “I’ll let you know what we find out.”

  “So, they didn’t believe you?” asked Ryan, who had been listening to one side of the conversation.

  “In a word,” said Calvin, “No.” He paused. “You saw how long it took me to believe what’s going on here, and I lived through it. Hell, I got shot down and still didn’t believe it. My air wing commander is 800 miles away, so he’s having an even harder time believing. The Chinese have taken Seattle? The thought is ludicrous to him. It’s far easier for him to believe that you were somehow mistaken about what you saw at the truck stop, and that I had an engine failure or something. After all, you are ‘some sort of hermit living in the woods with delusions of being a SEAL.’ Obviously, you’re going to take every opportunity to make yourself sound brave and heroic to the naval aviator that just landed in your midst.”

  “What did he blame the disappearance of the other two planes in your formation on, spontaneous combustion?” Ryan asked.

  “Those, he’s not so sure about. They must have flown into each other and blown up, causing my airplane to also be damaged, thus the explosion I saw. He’s willing to believe that there might be a terrorist action taking place in the area; certainly, something strange is going on at Whidbey. A full-scale invasion, though, isn’t something that he’s ready to believe.” Mimicking the CAG’s voice, he continued, “Well, you know, son, ejection is a very traumatic occurrence and, in all likelihood, you’ve sustained a concussion. I know it may seem like the world is against you at this moment, but I think that in the morning you’ll see things as they really are, once you have a clear head again. Please have someone take you to the nearest hospital, and we’ll send a helicopter up for you in the morning.”

  “He really said that? You’re imagining things because you have a concussion?” he paused. “How does your concussion make me imagine what I saw?”

  “You probably were telling me about a truck with a gun rack in the back window, and I dreamed it into an anti-aircraft artillery piece,” Calvin said. “My feverish imagination is playing tricks on me and is distorting everything you say to me. He sounded so sure of himself at one point, I almost had to pinch myself to make sure I still believed me.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at
Ryan. “I’m not concussed and being paranoid and imagining all of this, right? Actually, please tell me that I am. This would surely be a great dream to wake up from now.”

  “Sorry,” said Ryan. “I wish we were both paranoid delusionals. Unfortunately, this is real life, no matter how unbelievable it may seem. While you may have had to eject, you still seem pretty clear-headed to me, especially for an aviator.”

  “You know what’s worse?” asked Calvin, ignoring the jibe.

  “What could be worse than not believing in a war that you’re already losing?” asked Ryan.

  “They had already put together a flight to come look for us,” said Calvin, “and CAG is still going to send it up here to see if they can find any survivors from my flight. They’re going to be armed in case there is ‘some act of terrorism’ going on,” Calvin used his fingers for air quotes, “but he doesn’t plan to tell them about my ‘delusional ramblings.’ He shook his head, remembering the surface-to-air missile site that he saw being set up. “I can’t help but feel that they’re screwed. I don’t have many friends in the Kestrels, but they’re still on our side; I hope they’ll be OK. I don’t know how they did it, but the Chinese have brought in an awful lot of bad shit. In addition to the anti-aircraft systems that got my wingman, I know I saw what was either a Russian S-300 or S-400 system, or whatever they call it in China. They’re both big, truck mounted missiles that are very distinctive. The S-300 system is as good as a Patriot; the S-400 is better. If the next group comes in high, either one of those systems could swat them like flies. Vaya con dios, my brothers, vaya con dios.”

  “All right,” said Ryan, trying to change the mood, “I’ve got something I probably ought to show you before we go to bed.”

  “What’s that?” asked Calvin.

  He watched Ryan lift up a large carpet in the middle of the floor, revealing a locked trap door. He removed the lock and, lifting up the door, he said, “Something that might make our lives a little easier.” He paused, then said with a Spanish accent, “Say hello to my little friends.” Ryan walked down the steps into the darkness and then turned on a light. In the basement of his cabin, Calvin saw an armory that most survival nuts would have killed for.

  Calvin whistled lowly as he took it all in. “Damn…” The space was a 20’ x 20’ square concrete room with racks of weapons on three sides. Shelves brimming with ammunition graced the fourth side. There was a large table in the center of the room with stations for cleaning weapons and reloading ammunition on top of it and supplies for cleaning and reloading kept neatly underneath. There was even a little dehumidifier running quietly in one of the corners. Calvin began to wonder whether Ryan did have all of his marbles, or if he had indeed turned into some kind of survivalist nut-job, like his air wing commander had suggested. Looking at the room full of weapons, ‘nut-job’ no longer seemed so far-fetched. Although there weren’t quite enough weapons for a full-scale army battle, there were certainly enough for several major skirmishes. “Damn! This is…incredible. This far into the woods, how were you able to do all this? The concrete work alone would have been pretty challenging, much less getting all these racks and ordnance.”

  “Well, the best part about being a SEAL is that you’re the member of a team, and all of those guys have a variety of skills. You’re also pretty close with guys that are going to insert you into enemy territory, and even closer with the guys that are going to get you back out again. I know quite a few people that can fly helicopters, and lifting this in by helo was a LOT easier than humping it up the mountain on my back. Of course, it cost me some good whiskey, but hey, it was worth it.”

  “Um…your friends used military helicopters to bring all this stuff up here?” Calvin asked. “How did you arrange that?”

  Ryan looked a little sheepish. “Well, they usually used civilian helicopters, because using military helicopters would obviously be a misuse of taxpayer funds, wouldn’t it?” He smiled. “Sometimes, though, Special Forces need to practice backcountry operations, and troops have to be dropped off in unprepared territory. Well, my mountain is about as unprepared as it comes, so it was a perfect place for them to get some training. The fact that they left some things here when they hiked back out doesn’t mean that they left it for me, just that they didn’t need it at the time and will probably come back some time to get it. It’s prepositioned,” he said. Ryan thought for a second and then asked, “How do you suppose I got the generator out back to power the lights or give you a cold beer? That would have absolutely sucked to try to get up the mountain.”

  It was Calvin’s turn to look sheepish. “I never thought about it, I guess. I’m concussed, remember? I’m just making it up as I go.”

  “Honestly,” said Ryan, “the hardest part was getting the hole dug out. As you may have guessed, I’m not adverse to hard work, and I’ve had plenty of time on my hands. I just asked for help moving some of the heavy stuff when I needed it. I know a couple of guys in the 160th SOAR at Fort Lewis in Tacoma, and they were able to work it into their normal operations or rent a helicopter at the local airport if they needed, in order to transport it.”

  “Besides flying like an eagle,” Calvin asked, “what is a sore?”

  “The SOAR is the United States Army’s 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, also known as the ‘Night Stalkers.’ It is a helicopter squadron that provides support for the Army’s special operations forces, as well as the special operations troops from other services when needed. The 160th is headquartered at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, but has battalions scattered throughout the country; the 4th Battalion is located here in Tacoma at Joint Base Lewis-McChord. Because of the missions they fly, the aviators in the 160th SOAR are the best-qualified in the Army; getting into the fields around here is a snap for them, whether they are flying one of their heavy-lift MH-47 Chinooks, medium-lift MH-60 Black Hawks, or their light utility MH-6 Little Birds.” Ryan paused and then indicated the racks of weapons. “In any event,” he said, “how this got here is truly less important than the fact that it is here now and available for our use now that we need it. Now…knowing that you’re a flyboy and not a real combat troop, how experienced are you with rifles, shotguns, pistols and grenades?”

  “I’m pretty good with everything except the grenades,” said Calvin. “My dad was a big hunter growing up, so I’m comfortable with rifles and shotguns. I also made myself proficient on the range with my combat pistol, a Browning Hi-Power 9mm, just in case I ever got shot down behind enemy lines. Grenades, not so much.” Looking around, he noticed some gray blocks of putty on one of the sets of shelves and the stacks of metal objects next to it. Stunned, he asked, “Is that C4? Claymores, too? How many wars are you planning on fighting in the Washington woods?

  “Well, it never hurts to be prepared,” said Ryan, “and I think that current events are proving me out on that point. Besides, most of this is just stuff that I collected over my time in the Navy.” He held up a Russian made AK-47. “This rifle, for example. Its owner didn’t need it anymore, so I brought it home to take care of it. I was just doing my part for the environment and recycling it.” He set it down and picked up another rifle from the rack. “Now this is what I think will work best for you. It’s an M-16 with a M203 grenade launcher attached.” He paused, trying to look serious, then continued. “Before we go any further, I think it’s important to make you aware that it is illegal for civilians to possess grenades, so of course I don’t own any or have any in my possession.” Looking at a set of shelves in the corner, he laughed. “But, what do we have here? The top shelf has some grenades that look like they just might fit a M203 grenade launcher. I wonder how they got there?” He turned back to Calvin and asked, “Have you ever used the M203 grenade launcher?”

  “I’ve played all of the Modern Warfare video games,” said Calvin, “so I know what it is and generally how it works. I’ve never shot one in real life.”

  “That’s at least a start, anyway,” said Ryan, as he lapsed into
his best weapons instructor voice. “As a novice, you should know that the M203 is a 40mm grenade launcher, and it’s classified as a ‘Destructive Device’ under the National Firearms Act, because it is a non-sporting firearm with a bore greater than one-half inch in diameter.” He laughed. “That being said, you can actually buy a M203 launcher on eBay. They’re kind of pricey at about $2,000 apiece, plus a $200 transfer tax, but you can get them. You can also buy training ammunition for them for about $15 per cartridge, although actual high explosive 40mm grenades are a whole lot more expensive. If you can find them, you’re going to pay about $500 per cartridge, but they’re very rare. Each grenade also constitutes a destructive device on its own and must be registered, which requires an additional $200 transfer tax payment for each round. Finally, once you’ve got them, you have to comply with the governmental high explosives storage requirements. All of that is a pain in the ass, which is why I’m glad someone left some on this shelf here, so that we don’t have to go shopping for them.”

  He pretended to look a little closer. “Well, what do we have here? Looks like they left a couple of different types of high explosive, about 10 of each, some illumination rounds and some CS gas rounds. Hmm…” He pointed at the olive drab rounds as if just seeing them for the first time. “Let’s see. These olive green ones are high explosive. The ones with the gold markings are general purpose high explosive that will kill everything within about 5 meters and cause casualties to anyone within about 130 meters. That means, don’t shoot one close to you, as you are likely to get hit, too. If you can’t fire it a little way down range, don’t shoot it at all. The ones with the white markings are dual purpose. They also explode like the ones with the yellow markings and with the same kill radius, but they can also penetrate about 2 inches of steel armor. Good stuff. These illumination rounds are for making light at night, but you can also use them to signal. We probably won’t need any of these tomorrow. The last ones here with the gray aluminum body and black markings are a form of tear gas which is very effective for riot control or urban operations. While most people agree that the CS gas inside is non-lethal, let me tell you, you do not want to get it in your eyes.”