by Larry Bond
* * *
Simonis paced back and forth in his office. The clock read 1525. North Dakota had tied up over twenty minutes ago—Commander Mitchell was late. The driver the CSO had sent down to the pier called back in a panic: North Dakota’s skipper insisted on walking to squadron headquarters. Both Jacobs and Walker found it amusing, and understandable. Even Simonis begrudgingly admitted that a good leg-stretching walk after a stressful patrol was therapeutic, but he had little patience for such self-indulgences. He’d lost a boat assigned to his squadron, and he desperately wanted to know more of the details, the ones that weren’t included in North Dakota’s initial report.
Except for the clock’s ticking, and Simonis’s occasional grumble, the office was quiet. The commodore was in no mood for casual conversation and Jacobs and Walker knew better than to try and start one. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the yeoman knocked at the door.
“Commodore, Commander Mitchell is here.”
“Send him in,” Simonis demanded.
Jerry stepped smartly into the office and proceeded directly to Simonis. Stopping just short of the commodore, he came to attention and reported. “Commanding Officer, USS North Dakota reporting as ordered, sir.”
Simonis appeared to approve of the formal greeting. Nodding, he extended his hand. “Welcome home, Captain,” he said.
“Thank you, sir,” Jerry replied as he grasped the commodore’s hand.
“I trust you remember my chief staff officer and operations officer,” said Simonis, gesturing first to Jacobs, then Walker.
“Of course.” Jerry reached over and shook their hands.
Simonis then motioned toward the conference table. “Be seated, gentlemen.”
As soon as Jerry sat down, he opened the locked pouch and pulled out an annotated chart, a bound report, and a DVD. Unfolding the chart, he positioned it so that Simonis could see it clearly.
“Before we start,” interrupted Jacobs, “would you like some coffee, Captain?”
“No … no, thank you. I think I’ve had my annual allowance already,” Jerry responded hesitantly.
The commodore held up the discussion briefly while he looked the chart over. After a short examination, he looked up at Jerry and said, “Walk me through the engagement, Captain.”
“Yes, sir.”
For the next half hour, Jerry went step by step through the encounter, beginning with the initial acquisition of Santa Fe. Walker grimaced when he saw the unbelievably long detection range, and Jerry commented that the excessive noise from Santa Fe’s main propulsion shaft not only enabled the Chinese to find her, but almost certainly degraded her spherical array. When combined with the strong layer, it was understandable how Halsey could have missed the approaching ships.
Simonis grunted, and gestured for Jerry to continue. Turning to the page in his report with a video freeze frame from the Sea Tern UAV, Jerry showed the commodore the cable for the towed array streaming from the Luyang I destroyer, and emphasized that the prosecution was done passively. Only the Ka-28 Helix went active, and then probably only to verify Santa Fe’s position before dropping the rocket torpedo. That statement got a noticeable reaction from the commodore, as well as Jacobs and Walker. The Chinese had not demonstrated such sophisticated tactics before; the war was forcing them to learn quickly.
Jerry then walked Simonis and his staff officers through the Chinese attacks. When he got to the point where he described Halsey’s evasive maneuvers, Simonis roared indignantly, “Halsey turned the wrong way! What was he thinking!?” Walker’s face turned red with anger, but he remained silent.
“I thought that at first myself,” Jerry quickly interjected. “But my team found this in the post-engagement analysis. Look at the geometry, Commodore.” Jerry turned to a blown-up section of the chart in his report and pointed to the Helix’s position. “See here. The Helix dropped the APR-2E on Santa Fe’s port side. Warren did exactly what he had been trained to do. He turned away and launched countermeasures.”
“The helo was herding him?” Simonis asked incredulously.
“That, or the Chinese were just plain lucky,” answered Jerry. “Either way Warren reacted in accordance with doctrine, and it drove him straight into the two warships, here. Each ship launched a Yu-7, staggered so they wouldn’t interfere with each other. Warren intercepted one, but missed the other. That weapon hit Santa Fe. I think any one of us would have been hard-pressed to successfully handle three homing weapons in such a short span of time.”
Simonis slowly leaned back into his chair, suddenly quiet. Jerry’s description of the event had hit his preconceived notions hard—he had much to consider. Jacobs saw his boss’s reaction and knew Simonis was done, but the CSO had one question.
“Captain, the chart shows that you command-enabled your weapon, why?”
Jerry nodded. “Yes, I did. I was trying to scare the warships off. But they either didn’t hear the seeker’s transmissions or didn’t understand what it meant.” He looked down at the table briefly, then added, “I … I didn’t know what else I could do.”
At that point the discussion abruptly ended, the office becoming suddenly silent. Jerry looked at the three Squadron Fifteen officers and realized it was over. Pushing the chart, report, and DVD toward the operations officer, he said, “Commander Walker, this is for your reconstruction analysis team. The DVD contains digital copies of my ship’s sensor, fire control, and event logs, the UAV download, and my report with the annotated chart. I’d appreciate it if you’d send a copy back to my parent squadron, SUBRON Three. I know Captain Corina would like to see them.”
“Certainly, Captain. I’ll have the files e-mailed over the secure network.”
“Thank you,” replied Jerry.
“Gentlemen.” Simonis spoke as he rose. “If there is nothing else, I’d like to speak to Commander Mitchell alone, please.”
Jacobs and Walker quickly collected their notes and the patrol report, and after shaking Jerry’s hand again, headed for the door. As Walker was about to exit, Simonis called out to him, “Rich, shut the door please. Thank you.” The click of the doorknob latch seemed particularly loud.
Simonis marched over to the carafe on a side table and refilled his mug. Grabbing a second cup, he poured one for Jerry. “How do you take your coffee, Captain?”
“Uh, black, sir,” said Jerry, a little confused. He was sure the commodore had heard him decline earlier. “I’m not an advocate of highly adulterated coffee.”
“Excellent!” responded Simonis, pleased. “Somehow I knew you weren’t a mocha cappuccino latte kind of guy.”
Jerry smiled slightly. “I think that’s three different drinks, Commodore.”
“Whatever,” shrugged Simonis. “All I know is that you can’t taste the coffee with so much milk, chocolate, or other crap mixed in.” He placed the steaming cup in front of Jerry, raised his, and said, “Cheers.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“How’s your crew holding up?” asked Simonis casually, taking his seat.
“Hmmm,” Jerry uttered, sipping his coffee. “They seem to be doing okay. None of them were exactly thrilled watching Santa Fe being attacked and sunk. Some are taking it harder than others.”
“And how are you taking it?”
Jerry’s cup stopped just short of his mouth, and he slowly lowered it to the table. “I, uh … I guess I would put myself in the harder than others category.”
“I suspected as much,” grunted Simonis. “You implied in your initial message that perhaps you could have done more to help Santa Fe, and just a few moments ago you reinforced that impression. You’ve had three days to study the logs and the after-action report, weren’t you able to find anything?”
Embarrassed, Jerry shook his head no.
“Really?” replied Simonis with a condescending tone. “You disappoint me, Captain. I thought you were smarter than that.”
Rage suddenly filled Jerry; his stomach churned and his jaw drew up tight. Fightin
g to keep himself in check, he looked at Simonis with intense anger. Through clenched teeth, he was just barely able to choke out the words, “And what should I have found, Commodore?”
Simonis leaned forward, his gaze equally intense, his voice just as stern. “That you were not in control of the situation, Captain.”
Stunned by Simonis’s statement, Jerry found himself unable to speak. The young captain’s blank expression told the commodore that his first volley had hit home. He had Mitchell’s undivided attention.
Simonis quickly rose again, pacing as he spoke. “In one of my previous assignments, I was the head of tactics development at DEVRON Twelve. For two years, I reviewed every event reconstruction from boats on both coasts. By the time I left, I could dismantle an after-action report in a couple of hours, three tops. I can say with reasonable confidence that after reading your initial message and hearing your brief, there was absolutely nothing more you could have done to help Halsey. Furthermore, there were a number of bad decisions that you didn’t make that potentially could have cost me two boats. And your attack on the Luyang I was well executed. All in all, Captain, I’m quite impressed with your performance.”
Jerry was awestruck; his anger washed away as fast as it had formed. He heard Simonis’s words, but he had trouble wrestling with their meaning. It was not what he expected.
“But, sir … I failed to get Santa Fe home. I left them all behind,” Jerry croaked, his voice heavy with emotion.
Simonis stopped and looked at Jerry. “Captain, get it through your thick skull, there was nothing you could have done that would have changed the final outcome. Given the circumstances, there was no way you were going to pull that rabbit out of the hat. I know it sucks, but this was a no-win situation.”
“But, sir…”
“But nothing!” exclaimed Simonis firmly. “I know about your ties to the SEAL community. They are damn fine warriors, and they have a right to be proud of the fact that they bring everyone home. But Jerry, we don’t have that kind of luxury.”
Simonis then raised his right arm and made a large sweeping motion toward the Pacific. “We lost fifty-two submarines out there during World War Two, and you can add Scorpion and Thresher to that tally. In almost every case, we lost entire crews, every single last man! And, we lost them permanently! There’s a reason why we say they are on eternal patrol. In our line of work, Jerry, if a boat goes down, everyone on board is left behind. That’s just the way it is.”
Swallowing heavily, and fighting back the tears, Jerry nodded stiffly. Simonis was right, but that wasn’t much comfort at the moment. A boat had been lost, colleagues, fellow submariners were dead, all because of the misfortunes of war. And then there were the Chinese sailors on the destroyer he had torpedoed; most of them probably died as well. Ironically, there were no indications the Chinese ships knew it was an American sub they were attacking. Life seemed so damned unfair at times.
As the emotional turmoil settled down, Jerry was finally able to talk. “I hear you, sir. I don’t like it. But I understand, now.”
“Good,” replied Simonis, satisfied. “I need you firing on all cylinders. This war is getting worse by the day, and if the rumor mill is correct, we’ll soon be in the thick of it. I’ll need every boat to be operating at one hundred percent, and that includes their skippers.”
Jerry pushed himself away from the table and stood. He needed to get back to his boat. He had to get her ready for war. Extending his hand, he responded confidently, “Understood, sir. North Dakota will be ready to set sail, whenever you give the order.”
“Very good, Captain. That’s all I can realistically expect.”
“Thank you for the coffee, sir, it was really good. So was the advice,” Jerry added sheepishly.
“You’re welcome, Jerry. Just let my staff know what your boat needs, and I’ll see to it that you get it ASAP.”
A slight smile popped on Jerry’s face. “If I know my XO, sir, your staff already has all the requisitions. Good afternoon, Commodore.”
12 September 2016
1700 Local Time
August 1st Building, Ministry of National Defense Compound
Beijing, People’s Republic of China
General Xi Ping walked wearily into the CMC conference room. It had been a long two days, and judging by the way the war was progressing, the days were likely to get even longer. He saw President Chen and General Su sitting at the conference table; each was reading one of the myriad of daily reports. Xi signaled an aide to bring him coffee, and an army major rushed a cup over to him. The general gulped the contents down quickly and returned the cup to the aide. Fortified with caffeine, Xi approached the two senior members of the Central Military Commission.
“Good afternoon, President Chen, General Su,” he greeted.
Chen looked up; his serious expression immediately became one of surprise, then concern. “General! Please forgive me, but you look dreadful!”
Xi chuckled lightly. “That’s because I feel dreadful, Comrade President.”
“I take it you have the final analysis of the third missile attack?” Su asked impatiently. They were all fatigued, thought the chief of the General Staff. And if Xi had to work extra-long hours to support final victory, well, that was the price of his promotion.
“Yes, General Su,” Xi answered testily. “And it’s as we feared. The Littoral Alliance nations are jamming the Beidou navigation system signals over their territories. The accuracy of our ballistic missiles was severely degraded. We missed most of the targets of interest in the last attack.”
“But how?!” Chen demanded. “General Hu assured us that the satellite navigation systems on all our missiles were highly resistant to jamming!”
“He was partially correct, sir,” Xi explained. “The receivers are upward-looking and are very resistant to jammers on the ground. Unfortunately, the Littoral Alliance has put the jammers in high-altitude, long-endurance UAVs. The receivers on our missiles looked right at them and accepted the more powerful, flawed signals as valid. It threw the missiles far off course.”
“Wonderful!” replied Su sarcastically. “So now instead of hitting important military and economic targets, our missiles are destroying hospitals, schools, and civilian residences—with photographs posted instantly on the Internet for the whole world to see!” Su’s face became crimson with anger. “Do you have any idea as to the magnitude of the propaganda bonanza we’ve handed the Littoral Alliance!?”
Xi became equally angry and stood his ground. “I believe, General, I explicitly briefed this commission that we would have two or three attacks before the Littoral Alliance would probably deploy countermeasures. General Hu disagreed, and you, sir, accepted his argument!”
“Generals!” shouted Chen Dao. “Fighting amongst ourselves will not help us win this war!”
Vice Chairmen Tian and Li, and General Shi, heard the president’s raised voice and immediately came over to the conference table. Su was silent, but obviously fuming. President Chen looked at Xi. “Do you have any recommendations on how to counter the jamming?”
“I have some ideas, but I need to discuss them with General Wang,” Xi responded. “Until then, I would recommend delaying any further large-scale ballistic missile attacks. Our inventory is now limited and we must husband our remaining resources.”
“I agree with General Xi,” said Tian. “We may have to look at using more missiles to support our attacks on Vietnamese defensive positions. We lost fourteen aircraft this morning during the saturation attack on their line at Cao-bang. Our bombers delivered their ordnance and were suddenly pounced on by low-flying fighters. We were ultimately successful in smashing through the Vietnamese defenses, but the losses in the air and on the ground were higher than we expected. We’ll have to reinforce both the air regiments and group armies with our reserves.”
Chen was perplexed. “How did the Vietnamese muster the necessary forces to oppose the strike? I thought we had command of the air over the
front?”
“It would appear that a squadron or two of Indian Flankers have deployed to Vietnam, Comrade President,” a chagrined Li volunteered. “General Xi’s people suggested this was a possibility. But I discounted it as a foolish notion given India’s massive assault on Pakistan.” Li faced Xi and bowed. “Please accept my apology, Ping.”
Xi silently bowed in return.
“President Chen,” interrupted General Shi, the head of the political department, “while I agree we need to exercise caution in conducting future missile strikes, we can’t afford to lose the momentum we’ve achieved. Militarily speaking, the situation has turned to our advantage. We’ve plunged nearly fifty kilometers into Vietnam across the entire border in only three days. We’ve largely gained air and surface dominance in the seas around China, and Admiral Wei reports that he has confirmed the sinking of three enemy submarines. And, of course, we’ve inflicted considerable damage to our enemy through ballistic missile strikes. However, as positive as these indicators are, our position is far more tenuous from an economic and political perspective.
“According to General Ye in the logistics department, we’ve lost approximately fifteen percent of our tanker fleet, and about twenty percent of our refining capacity. We’ve sustained less damage to our storage and production facilities, but it is still noteworthy. And, of course, we have been completely cut off from any external sources of petroleum. Even if the war were to end right now, the long-term damage to our economy will be considerable, but ultimately recoverable.
“Current estimates point to a five-to-ten-year period required to regain our pre-war gross domestic product. However, the longer this war continues, the more damage our economy will suffer and the longer that recovery period becomes. Some of the analyses suggest there is a tipping point where economic collapse becomes likely, and that we are closer to that point than we think.