Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 06

by Fatal Terrain (v1. 1)

  The twice-orphaned carrier was not yet ready to be cut up into razor blades. In a few short weeks, repairs had been completed, and now the little ski-jump carrier Mao was once again operational. Only a few of its complete wing of twenty-four ex-Russian Sukhoi-33 supersonic fighter- bombers were on board, but it carried a full complement of antisubmarine helicopters, as well as antiaircraft and land attack weapons. Six of the P-500 Granit anti-ship missiles in the forward launch tubes had been replaced with a navalized version of the M-ll ballistic land attack missile, each with a range of over sixty kilometers. Despite its armament, however, the carrier was considered little more than an expensive Chinese plaything—perhaps something to impress the neighbors—and not a grave military threat.

  That idea, Admiral Yi thought gleefully, was going to be known as one of the biggest errors of judgment made in recent history.

  After what seemed like hours, the first officer approached his captain with a copy of an intelligence report, complete with radar, optronic, and visual profiles, several weeks old but hopefully still useful. “Received the patrol’s report, sir. It is flying a Taiwanese flag,” the first officer reported. “The vessel is a French-designed, indigenously built Kwang Hwa Ill-class frigate. One of the Nationalists’ new toys, launched just last year.”

  “Armament?”

  “Has a thirty-six-round vertical launch system with twelve Harpoon anti-ship cruise missiles, ten ASROC rocket-boosted torpedoes, and fourteen Standard antiair missiles—the Standard missiles can be used for surface attack as well. Four side-firing torpedo tubes. Sea Sparrow close- in antiaircraft and anti-missile system, 40-millimeter bow-mounted dualpurpose gun, Phalanx close-in air defense cannons fore and aft, and several 12.7-millimeter machine gun mounts.”

  “Very impressive,” Yi mused. “Strange our patrols have not detected it before. Where is it based?”

  “Unknown, sir,” the first officer replied. “Perhaps in the Nationalists’ secret underground naval base?”

  Yi did not share in the joke. The first officer referenced the current intelligence estimate—if the term “intelligence” could even be loosely applied—that the Nationalists were spending trillions of yuan on constructing huge underground military facilities so they could withstand an expected nuclear attack by the People’s Republic of China’s Liberation Army. Supposedly they had built an underground base large enough to barrack an entire division and store hundreds of tanks and armored vehicles—and had even constructed an underground airfield in the eastern mountains on Formosa big enough to launch and recover two squadrons of F-16 Fighting Falcon jet fighters. Of course, years of espionage work had uncovered no evidence of any secret underground bases. “What about its aviation fit?”

  “Large helicopter hangar, can carry two small helicopters,” the first officer continued. “Typically carries one S-70 helicopter, armed with AS- 30L laser-guided attack missiles, torpedoes, or Harpoon anti-ship missiles. The superstructure is built of composite materials and aluminum covered in radar-absorbent materials. The slanted foredeck, angled superstructure, and folding antenna arrays are supposed to be stealth devices to reduce radar signature.”

  “I would say it worked—we did not spot him until he was less than twenty kilometers out,” Yi said. He was not familiar with this class of warship, but he knew that Taiwan, one of the richest and fastest-growing nations in the world, could afford the best military hardware. Well, it may be a modern, high-tech boat, but it was no match for the Mao and its escorts. “Have Communications transmit a Flash priority message to Taiwan Operations headquarters, advising them that we are in contact with a rebel warship. Have the patrol helicopter maintain visual contact and report if—”

  Just then, the officer of the deck interrupted: “Captain, message from the Nationalist frigate Kim Men. They are ordering that we not approach Quemoy Island any farther or we will be fired upon! ”

  “They what?” Yi exploded, nearly rising out of his seat in total surprise. “They are trying to tell us where we can sail? Are they crazy?” The idea was laughable—the smallest ship in Admiral Yi’s carrier battle group was twice as big and four times more heavily armed than this Nationalist toy boat! This was obviously some kind of publicity stunt. “Put them on the phone. This is ludicrous! What... ?” The officer of the deck nodded, and Yi picked up the ship-to-ship radio handset and keyed the mike button: “Nationalist vessel Kim, this is Admiral Yi Kyu-pin, captain of the People s Republic of China Peoples Liberation Army Navy aircraft carrier Mao Zedong and commander of this task force,” he said in Mandarin Chinese. “Repeat your last message, please.”

  “Carrier Mao Zedong, this is Captain Sung Kun-hui, captain of the Republic of China Navy Quemoy Flotilla frigate Kin Men,” a voice responded in Mandarin. “You are approaching territorial waters of the Republic of China, and we demand that you remain clear.”

  “We are peaceful vessels in Chinese waters, not Nationalist waters,” Yi responded angrily, “and we will pass through this area as we please. Do not approach this task force. This is your last warning.” Yi turned to his first officer in surprise and muttered, “This is some kind of trap. I want a full long-range sweep of the area, all sensors. Look for any other ships or subs in the area. Maintain formation speed and heading.” He keyed the mike again: “Captain Sung, this is Admiral Yi. We intend to continue on to our destination, which is classified and which I am not permitted to reveal. Do not approach this task force. Over.”

  “Admiral Yi, you and your escorts are then hereby ordered to heave- to immediately,” Sung replied. “If it is necessary, we will use deadly force to stop your ships and force you to comply. Heave-to immediately. Maintaining this course towards Quemoy Tao will be seen as a hostile act.” Yi shot out of his chair, nearly dropping the ship-to-ship phone in total shock and surprise. “This bastard... he is threatening us with force? I will blast his puny little toy boat straight to hell. ” He picked up the phone and keyed the mike: “Your request is utterly foolhardy and without cause, rebel captain!” Yi sputtered into the ship-to-ship phone. “I warn you, Captain, that if I see any of your guns traverse in my direction, if I see your helicopters leave your deck or even spin up their rotors, or if you approach my task force any closer, I will order my escorts to attack without further warning. How dare you threaten warships of the People’s Republic of China on the high seas like this?”

  “And how dare you, Admiral,” Sung responded, “bring nuclear warheads into our waters?”

  Yi looked puzzled, his eyes darting back and forth across his bridge. “What did you say?” he replied. “I am not carrying any such weapons! ” “With all due respect, sir, you are a liar, Admiral Yi,” Sung radioed. “You and your ships are carrying at least six thermonuclear warheads on your M-ll ballistic missiles and SS-N-19 anti-ship missiles. You loaded the warheads while at sea via submarine and commercial traders, in violation of the United Nations Missile Technology Control Regime Treaty. The Republic of China strictly prohibits the transportation of nuclear warheads or nuclear-capable missiles into our waters. You will be detained until the warheads and missiles are confiscated. I now order you to heave-to immediately. This is your last warning. ”

  Admiral Yi was virtually beside himself, his eyes spinning—not from anger or confusion this time, but in utter disbelief, because the rebel captain’s information was maddeningly accurate: the Chinese warships were indeed carrying nuclear warheads. Three of the six M-ll land attack missiles and three of the P-500 Granit missiles, what the West called SS- N-19 “Shipwreck,” carried in the forward vertical launch tubes were armed with NK-55 thermonuclear warheads, small selectable-yield warheads powerful enough to destroy an aircraft carrier or a small city. It was impossible to tell how in hell Taiwan had found out. Security and secrecy had been painstakingly maintained throughout the transfers, and the ships never docked at any port after on-loading the warheads, so access to the ship could be carefully controlled. A spy on the ship? Improbable, but it was the only . . .


  “Admiral Yi, this is Captain Sung. You will be considered a hostile target if you do not stop. What is your response?”

  Get a hold of yourself, Yi, the captain told himself. This could be part of some elaborate ruse, some sort of propaganda ploy to embarrass the People’s Liberation Army Navy—perhaps they were only guessing about the missiles and warheads. If the media showed pictures of a lone, lightly armed Taiwanese frigate challenging the Chinese carrier battle group, it would be a monumental propaganda coup for Taiwan and its Western partners. Perhaps he only wanted a photo opportunity? Perhaps this was all a big show, some sort of act of bravado. Sung and his crew faced certain death if Yi s escort ships unleashed even one of their missiles, and even the escort Kangs twin-barreled 130-millimeter guns could shred that aluminum-hulled Nationalist toy boat in a few minutes.

  But Yi had a bad feeling about this: this was no photo opportunity or publicity ploy. The rebel warship was serious—it meant to board and search a foreign warship nearly twenty times its size! “Sound general quarters, all ships, all hands at battle stations, not an exercise,” Yi shouted. “Get the fighters up on deck and ready to launch, full air defense weapon load. Comrade Chong, report to the Combat Information Center, prepare to take charge of the engagement if they get a lucky shot off and hit the bridge. I will take the battle helm from here.”

  “They cannot be serious!” the first officer, Chong, shouted as the quartermaster sounded the general quarters bell. “They mean to engage us?”

  “If they try, it will be the shortest naval engagement in history,” Yi said angrily. “Officer of the deck, signal the task force to shift to combat formation. Bring the formation to thirty knots, give me twenty degrees to port to put our guns on the starboard side. Get Helicopter Group One on deck armed for anti-submarine warfare, and Helicopter Groups Two and Three ready for rescue duties. ” Yi knew that Taiwan had a small force of F-16 and F-5 fighter-bombers and, although they were very far away, they could do some damage if they got through the Kangs Crotale Mod- ulaire surface-to-air missile screen—they could easily overwhelm Yi s small fleet of Sukhoi-33 fighters and close-in weapon systems.

  “All stations report manned and ready,” the officer of the deck reported a few minutes later. “The group also reports all stations manned and ready for combat. Estimate five minutes before the group is in combat formation. Interceptor flight one is up on deck, ready to launch in about ten minutes.”

  “Very well,” Yi responded. “Combat, range to the rebel frigate?”

  “Range fifteen thousand meters.”

  Well within range of the frigate’s Harpoon missiles, Yi thought, but if the rebels were going to use them, they would’ve done it long ago. “Cowards,” Yi said to the captain of the Taiwanese frigate acidly. “You should have taken the shot when you had the chance—now you have no chance.” To his officer of the deck, Yi ordered, “I want a lookout to watch that frigate—if it tries to launch its helicopter or traverse that gun, I want to know about it immediately. Send a Flash priority signal to fleet headquarters; notify them that we are being threatened by an armed Taiwanese frigate that is ordering us to stop and be boarded. Advise them that we are proceeding at best speed and ask for instructions—and I want permission to engage and destroy that patrol boat if necessary.”

  THIRTY MILES NORTHWEST OF THE CHINESE

  CARRIER MAO ZEDONG THAT SAME TIME

  “That PLAN battle groups got everything lit up, crew,” defensive systems officer (DSO) Air Force First Lieutenant Emil “Emitter” Vikram reported, referring to the Chinese People’s Liberation Army Navy vessels. “Rice Screen Golf-band air search, Crotale antiair, Square Tie Type 331 anti-ship targeting, India-band Sun Visor fire control, Great Leader satellite communications, jammers across the entire spectrum—he’s broadcasting everything but AM and FM golden oldies. He’s leaking so much power out his side lobes that I can feel it in my fillings.”

  “We get the message, DSO,” retired Lieutenant General Brad Elliott, the pilot, replied. Vikram had been the youngest and one of the brightest engineers at the now-closed High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center, but he had the least amount of flight experience, so he still hadn’t learned to completely control his excitement when using the interphone. “Just give us the important news and record the rest. Co, you should be double-checking the ‘combat’ checklist. If you’re just sitting there with nothing to do, with a Chinese battle group ready to attack just twenty miles away, you’re probably missing something.”

  “Hey, I was born ready, General,” the copilot retorted, causing an exasperated scowl from the pilot. “My checklist’s complete—I’m just waiting for the fur to start flying.” Sitting across from Elliott, monitoring the four large color multifunction displays on the forward instrument panel, was his copilot, Air Force Major Nancy Cheshire. A longtime test pilot and engineer, Cheshire had spent several years at HAWC as one of Elliott’s most talented pilots and flight test engineers; she had already flown two secret strike missions in the EB-52 as part of Brad Elliott’s classified stealth raiders. When HAWC had closed, she had been assigned as one of the first female B-2 Spirit stealth bomber pilots in the U.S. Air Force—but she had readily given up that choice assignment when McLanahan and Elliott had asked to “borrow” her to fly one of Jon Masters’s Megafortress strategic escort “flying battleships.”

  This Megafortress was loaded for bear with both offensive and defensive weapons. Instead of a standard weapon pylon, each wing held a large teardrop-shaped stealthy fibersteel fairing that contained the external weapons on ejector racks. Each wing weapons fairing held six AGM-177 Wolverine stealth turbojet cruise missiles, which were tar- getable rocket-powered cruise missiles with a range of up to fifty miles, fitted with three small internal bomb bays that could carry a variety of weapons or other payloads. The Wolverine missiles on this mission carried a mix of payloads—half were configured as area jammer/decoys that could simulate a massive bomber or fighter attack and completely shut down radar screens and disrupt enemy air defense systems for miles in all directions; the other half carried cluster bomb packages so each missile could attack three targets, then dive into a fourth. Each pylon also carried four radar-guided AIM-120C AMRAAMs for bomber defense—in total, the same number of missiles as on a F-15 Eagle fighter—that could be fired at enemy targets up to thirty miles away, even behind the bomber.

  Internally, the EB-52 Megafortress was armed with twelve AGM-136 Tacit Rainbow anti-radar cruise missiles in the forward part of the bomb bay, which were small turbojet-powered missiles that would loiter over an area and automatically attack an enemy radar that activated nearby which transmitted specific threat frequencies—the missiles could orbit for up to an hour over a twenty-five-square-mile area. The aft section of the fifty-foot long bomb bay contained the bomber’s maximum offensive punch that would hopefully not be needed on this mission—a rotary launcher with eight AGM-142B Striker missiles. The Strikers were rocket-powered, supersonic bombs with a 1,000-pound high-explosive warhead that carried a satellite navigation system and TV and imaging infrared terminal guidance packages that gave them precision-kill capability; wings that unfolded after release from the bomb bay gave the Striker missile a ballistic cruising range of nearly fifty miles.

  “I show us in combat mode and ready to fight,” retired Lieutenant Colonel Patrick McLanahan, the offensive systems officer, said. McLanahan could sense the tension in the voices of everyone on board, even Brad Elliott. It had been over two years since Elliott had flown in combat, and almost a year since losing command of HAWC, and his nervousness and hyper alertness were obvious. McLanahan checked the mission status readout on his weapons display. The mission status readout was a direct satellite link with U.S. Pacific Command headquarters at Pearl Harbor, which indicated their orders continuously. Although McLanahan could override PACCOM’s orders, the active datalink was the same as a direct verbal order from U.S. Pacific Command. “Datalink mission status is CHECK fire, and my nose is co
ld. Everyone stand by.”

  McLanahan’s offensive systems suite was dominated by the SMFD, or Super Multi Function Display, a two-by-three foot screen on the forward instrument panel, from which McLanahan controlled all of his systems and weapons. Using a Macintosh-like interface, McLanahan could display any combination of flight, navigation, weapons, systems, or sensor information on that screen, and resize, stack, or move any of the windows around with ease. McLanahan controlled the SMFD in three ways: he could touch the screen with a finger to manipulate windows; he could use a trackball and pointer like a mouse; or he could issue commands to the computer by hitting a switch near his right foot and speaking to the computer. Using all three methods together allowed McLanahan to operate his systems with incredible speed and accuracy.

  Part of McLanahan’s air intelligence suite was the “God’s-eye” view of the area supplied by Jon Masters’s satellite reconnaissance systems. A string of small low-orbiting satellites developed by Sky Masters, Inc., nicknamed NIRTSats (Need It Right This Second Satellite), scanned the Formosa Strait with powerful synthetic aperture radars, then downlinked the information to the EB-52 Megafortress via satellite relays. This produced an overhead image of the area depicting all of the ships, aircraft, and landmasses on the SMFD computer monitor. McLanahan could manipulate the image in thousands of ways, zooming in and out to individual targets or back to get the “big picture” tactical situation, and he could use the real-time image to pick targets to attack.

  “The PRC vessels are redeploying their ships,” McLanahan reported. “They’re turning west, trying to get out of Taiwanese waters. Speed up to twenty knots and increasing. Smaller ships are heading forward to take the point, but that big destroyer is still in the lead.”