Shattered Trident

by Larry Bond

  “General Wen, I agree the Vietnamese possess some knowledge of our plan,” replied Wei. “But their actions also reveal their belief that the absence of Liaoning will force us to abandon or postpone them. If we make any observable changes to the forces or schedule we’ve already released on the upcoming exercise, it will alert the Vietnamese that we are on to them. It’s very likely that there is a spy in our midst, who we must assume will see any changes in the units’ orders and report it. Other than increasing our security measures, I don’t think it is prudent to do anything.”

  “Of course there is a spy!” snapped Su as he stood abruptly. “My security personnel are already conducting a thorough review of everyone who has had access to the campaign plan.” The general’s stern gaze made it clear that included everyone present.

  Su paused, his head hanging low as he took a deep breath to calm himself. His colleagues just didn’t understand the source of his frustration. They didn’t see the larger threat.

  “I am not particularly worried about Vietnam’s response to our impending military operation. They do not have the combat power to seriously challenge us. If they try, we can defeat them. Yes, we might sustain higher losses, but the final outcome is not in question. The greater issue, the more important question is, have they shared this information with any other nation? In particular, the United States.”

  Only silence greeted General Su’s unpleasant question. If the United States knew of their plans, and chose to intervene, the outcome of the operation would not be in China’s favor. Every member of the CMC knew America was still militarily exhausted and economically weakened, but no one was willing to assume America would just sit idly by while China forcibly annexed the disputed islands. Their plan was to present the United States with a fait accompli, and then dare them to act.

  President Chen finally broke the awkward quiet. “General, do you have any indications the Americans are aware of our plan?”

  “No, sir,” he replied while stiffly shaking his head. “My intelligence department has been working closely with the Ministry of State Security’s Second Bureau, and there is no evidence at this time that the Americans have a clue as to what we are doing.”

  “But you fear they will?” asked Wen.

  “Yes, Minister, that is my greatest fear.” Su stood upright and straightened his uniform jacket. “Comrades, there is an old saying: ‘When two tigers fight, one is killed and one is crippled.’ If the United States joins the fight, it will not end well for us, even if we are victorious.”

  General Wen smiled. He was an aficionado of ancient Chinese wisdom, and believed it was just as applicable in today’s high-tech world as it was centuries past.

  “You were always the blunt one, Yide,” chuckled Wen. “However, your concerns are not without merit. What do you recommend?”

  “Sir, if we no longer have stealth working in our favor, then speed is the next best thing. We must move before Vietnam has a chance to react. I recommend we advance our timetable by three weeks, and begin the invasion of phase one objectives on August 31st.”

  “Three weeks!” protested Wang, astounded. “There is no way we can get the air defense platform in position and operational that soon. We were cutting it close to begin with.”

  “I’m aware of this, General,” Su sympathized. “But it is my belief that the Vietnamese will use the platform’s departure as a warning indicator. They either know or at least suspect its purpose. They will be watching Guangzhou shipyard for any change in its status. The longer we delay its departure, the more relaxed our adversary will be. We have to make them believe they have been successful, that the operation has been postponed.”

  Wang’s irritation was not soothed by Su’s explanation. “That platform is crucial to establishing an integrated air defense around Nanzai and Taiping Islands. Those islands have the largest airstrips in the entire Nansha chain and controlling that airspace is absolutely essential to our success!”

  “There will be far less resistance if we don’t telegraph our intentions to the Vietnamese!” Su shot back. “The navy’s air-defense destroyers can temporarily fill the role of the platform. We can also fly in additional surface-to-air missile systems once the islands are secured.”

  Wei reached over and placed his hand on the PLAAF commander’s shoulder. They weren’t going to win this argument, not with the minister of defense and the chief of staff in lockstep agreement. It was best to acknowledge the order and get to work on the changes needed to make the improvisations work.

  Wen cleared his throat. “Comrade President, I recommend you approve Admiral Wei and General Wang’s changes, as well as General Su’s suggestion to advance the overall timetable.”

  Chen answered formally, “Thank you, General Wen. The recommended changes are approved.”

  Wen bowed politely, and turned toward his comrades. “I want all changes to the operational orders on my desk in two days. Do not make any large-scale unit movements. Do it in a piecemeal fashion. We must use extreme caution and deny the Vietnamese any signs that we are adapting to their strategy. Any final comments or questions?”

  “Just one,” replied Su. “Keep the knowledge of these changes, as well as the recovered mine, to your immediate staff and your senior political commissars. No messages, no e-mails until further notice. I know this places an additional burden on you and your people, but we must protect this vital information. If you absolutely need someone to help with the planning, contact my office and we’ll get that individual cleared.”

  “Anything else?” Wen asked. No one spoke. “Very well, gentlemen, you have your orders. Carry them out.”

  19 August 2016

  The White House

  Washington, D.C.

  Joanna Patterson leaned on the conference table in the situation room, her eyes darting back and forth from North Dakota’s message to an annotated chart of the South China Sea. Her right hand groped along the desktop for her morning coffee. Finding the cup with her mocha latte, she took a sip as she read the next section of Commander Mitchell’s report. Commander Mitchell. She was still having a tough time wrapping her brain around that concept. Wasn’t he just a junior lieutenant only a few years ago? Now he was the commanding officer of his own submarine. Was she really that old?

  She’d made the mistake of voicing this question to her husband soon after their return from Jerry’s change of command ceremony. His response was a completely deadpan and wholly unsympathetic, “Well, yeah.” She threw something at him, as she recalled.

  Looking at the narrative, she tried to imagine being there as the Chinese sub got into position. The shock when Jerry realized that the Chinese had actually blown the Vietnamese merchant out of the water. This had to be tied to the Liaoning incident; there was really no other possibility. She shook her head; the timing of these events couldn’t be worse. A potential crisis with another superpower just as the president’s reelection campaign was struggling to fend off his Republican adversary’s attacks.

  The major foreign policy success of exposing the failed Iranian nuclear program had long been forgotten. The continuing poor economic situation now held center stage. Unfortunately, many of the problems and issues affecting the stubbornly lackluster U.S. economy were offshore, in other countries, outside the president’s control. Still, the aftershocks from those countries reached the United States, causing pain and hardship. And since professional politics is a “what have you done for me lately” kind of game, the president’s approval rating had taken a plunge.

  A knock at the door pulled her from her musings. A navy lieutenant stood there, half leaning into the doorway. “Dr. Patterson, the national security advisor wants to talk to you. Line two, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Andy,” Joanna replied. She walked quickly over to the phone, picked up the receiver, and hit the blinking button. “Yes, Ray.”

  “Joanna, grab your material on the Vietnamese merchant sinking and get up here. I managed to weasel a few minutes on the pres
ident’s schedule from Milt Alvarez, but we need to be in the Oval Office in ten minutes.”

  “I’m leaving now,” she exclaimed. Joanna tossed the receiver back onto the cradle, then rushed over and gathered her purse, notebook, Jerry’s message, the chart, and background information. Running for the elevator, she wondered why she bothered to wear heels.

  Dr. Ray Kirkpatrick, the national security advisor, waited for her by the security checkpoint. As she stopped to show her badge, Kirkpatrick stepped up. “Let me take some of that, Joanna.”

  “Thanks. I got up here as fast as I could.”

  “That you did. And we still have a moment or two to spare.”

  “Good! Let me run a brush through my hair. I must look like a mess,” Joanna remarked as she dumped the rest of her material into her boss’s arms.

  “Actually, I would say only slightly unkempt,” joked Kirkpatrick. Patterson’s annoyed look caused him to chuckle. Then he said more seriously, “Remember, the navy had a piece on the sinking in this morning’s read book, so the president has a good background on North Dakota’s report. What he hasn’t heard is your theory on the linkage with the Liaoning mining.”

  “Got it. Anything else?” asked Joanna.

  “Be brief. Milt is not amused that I bulled our way in this morning.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  No sooner had she spoken, the door to the Oval Office opened and a tight-lipped Milton Alvarez emerged. “Dr. Kirkpatrick, Dr. Patterson, the president will see you now.”

  Joanna smiled as she walked past Alvarez’s stern glare. Kirkpatrick was right; he was not a happy camper.

  “Ray, Joanna, please come in!” exclaimed an excited President Ken Myles. Pointing toward the couch he added, “Please, sit down.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Kirkpatrick as he motioned for Patterson to sit next to him. “I promised Milt we’d be expeditious, but Joanna has been working on a theory that I believe you need to hear.”

  A series of high-pitched electronic beeps signaled to everyone present that Alvarez had started a stopwatch.

  “Oh for God’s sake, Milt! Give it a rest,” Myles groaned.

  “Mr. President, I’m just trying…”

  “Yes, yes, I know. The almighty schedule!” Myles’s voice may have been sharp, but there was a twinkle in his eye. Looking back at Patterson, he said. “Go ahead, please.”

  “Mr. President, the article in today’s read book provided a synopsis of the sinking of the Vietnamese merchant ship Vinaship Sea, by a Chinese submarine.”

  “Yes, it seems that our favorite submariner has found himself in the thick of it once again,” replied Myles, smiling.

  It was well known within the White House that Joanna and her husband, Senator Lowell Hardy, had a special fondness for a certain Jerry Mitchell that dated back to their serving together on USS Memphis.

  Momentarily distracted, Joanna cleared her throat and continued, “This latest incident is just one of a series of events that have been part of an escalating trend over the last two years.”

  “To say the least,” remarked the president. As an expert on Asian affairs, he’d watched the deteriorating situation in the South China Sea closely. The rhetoric and level of harassment between the disputing parties had been bad, going as far back as the 1990s. However, the number of incidents had increased dramatically following the collision of a Vietnamese warship with a Chinese fishing vessel in December 2014. The Chinese claimed it was an intentional ramming, while the Vietnamese countered that the Chinese vessel was fishing illegally within the Vietnamese Exclusive Economic Zone and was evading pursuit.

  This was followed by the CCP’s public declaration the following March, that the Spratly, or Nansha, Islands had become a core national interest to China, elevating the dispute to the same political level as Taiwanese independence. This red flag had generated immense concern from every nation in the region.

  “It was no surprise when the PLAN announced that this year’s major multi-fleet exercise would be in the South China Sea area, or that it included their new carrier Liaoning,” Patterson continued. “We expected a very big exercise. In fact, it’s been over twenty years since we’ve seen an exercise of this magnitude.

  “Nine days ago, as Liaoning was departing Yalong Bay to take part in final air group training, she suffered an unknown engineering casualty and was returned to her berth. The official press release was vague, and offered no details. However, preliminary analysis of COMINT and imagery data strongly suggests she detonated a mine.”

  Myles’s eyes popped wide open. “A mine? In Chinese waters?”

  “Yes, sir. There was a reference to a ‘large plume’ of water, and imagery shows she has a distinct starboard list. This suggests significant flooding. Subsequent COMINT hits contained allusions to ‘distorted lines’ and ‘bent fans’ that almost certainly refer to the propulsion shafts and propellers. All of which point toward a mine; most likely a large bottom influence mine, laid by a submarine.”

  “But who, and why?” Myles demanded.

  Joanna shot a quick glance toward Kirkpatrick, who motioned for her to go on. “I can only come up with one possible suspect—Vietnam.”

  “Vietnam!?” exclaimed Myles. “That’s absurd, Joanna! Why would they intentionally antagonize China?”

  “Vietnam has a budding submarine force with three modified Kilo-class submarines. The Russian export package included advanced bottom influence mines.”

  “What about India?” countered Myles. “Or South Korea, or Taiwan? All those navies have subs with a mining capability.” The president looked over at Kirkpatrick, who nodded, confirming the fact. “And they all have significant disputes with China.”

  “I checked on submarine deployments throughout the region. We have good information on South Korea, Japan, and Taiwan, because they are U.S. allies. Nothing matches there. India’s nuclear subs are accounted for, and their diesel subs don’t have the endurance. We can’t confirm the movements of the Vietnamese Kilos, particularly when the distance between their homeport and Yalong Bay is so short. When you add the deliberate sinking of a Vietnamese merchant ship, which was acting suspiciously, by a Chinese submarine, it all but clinches it.” Joanna sat back and watched the president as he got up and started pacing.

  He walked quickly, clearly agitated by the possibility. “That still doesn’t answer why,” Myles reminded her.

  “I don’t know, sir,” Joanna admitted. “I suspect the Vietnamese were worried about the upcoming exercise in some way. Liaoning was going to be the flagship, after all. These two events, the mining and the sinking, happened too close to each other to be a coincidence.”

  Myles paced about in silence, worry clearly visible on his face. After about thirty seconds, he turned abruptly toward Kirkpatrick. “What do you think, Ray?”

  “Sir, I recommend that you increase surveillance in the region. We don’t know enough about what’s behind this, and that makes me nervous. You’ll need more eyes if we are going to get adequate warning, and more data so we can react properly.”

  Kirkpatrick handed Myles a sheet of paper. “I recommend moving some satellites, revising the deployments of our reconnaissance aircraft in the area, and increasing the number of submarines. The South China Sea is too big for just two subs. We can brief the squadron commodore and the commanding officers by video-teleconference, and then deploy the remaining Squadron Fifteen submarines. This will give you a total of four boats on station.”

  “Very good, Ray. We’ll go with your recommendation, but with a slight twist.”

  “Sir?” asked Kirkpatrick, confused.

  “Have the two boats already in the South China Sea head for Guam. I want the commanding officers to be briefed personally.”

  Surprised, Kirkpatrick was about to protest when the president cut him short. “I know there’s a risk with this decision, Ray. But if Joanna is right, we have time to coordinate this properly. Besides, I’ve become sensitive to having a submarine expo
sed for long periods of time doing a VTC at sea. Only this time, it’s two subs in a potentially hostile environment. I want those commanding officers to have all the time they need to ask questions. Besides, sending someone out will reinforce the seriousness of the situation. Pull them back and have Joanna go out and brief them.”

  “Me, sir?” Patterson was surprised by the president’s order, but she quickly composed herself. “I mean … yes, sir.”

  “It’s okay, Joanna, I know it’s a bit of a surprise. I have to send one of you, but I can’t send Ray. Sending the national security advisor out to Guam would draw far too much attention; you’re less conspicuous. Give those captains everything you can and emphasize our need for more information. Get them out there and probe, but for God’s sake tell them to be careful. If people are getting ready to shoot at each other, our subs should not be in the way.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll leave immediately.”

  “Give the commanding officers my personal best wishes for a safe and successful mission, and while you’re out there, pass on my regards to Commander Mitchell.”

  3

  THE SUMMONS

  22 August 2016

  USS North Dakota

  Apra Harbor, Guam

  It was an absolutely glorious bright summer day. Jerry basked in the warm sun as North Dakota cleared the entrance to Apra Harbor at Guam Island. He noted with satisfaction that Lieutenant Junior Grade Quela Lymburn had “split the uprights,” passing the channel marker buoys right down the middle. One of three female officers in his wardroom, “Q,” as she was dubbed, was one of his best ship handlers. His XO said she was a natural and strongly recommend she conn the boat in, as the passage to Guam’s inner harbor was even narrower than the channel out of Pearl Harbor. So while Q and the harbor pilot shared the confined space of the cockpit, Jerry and the lookouts enjoyed the more luxurious accommodations of the flying bridge.