by Chuck DeVore
Colonel Flint was on the hook to his aviation combat element before his intelligence officer had finished speaking. “Shut down immediately and secure for nuclear attack!”
“What about the ships, sir?” Ramirez knew the difficulty of that question. A Marine convincing a naval officer to turn off his vital electronics within 60 seconds was a stretch, but he knew his colonel would have to give it a try.
Colonel Flint spoke in a machine gun staccato. “Rez, you speak to the CIC OIC. I’ll call the Captain.” His finger was already punching the Captain’s number. Precious seconds ticked away as he waited for someone to find the Captain.
“Colonel Flint here. We are about to receive a nuclear attack. We have to secure all ship’s electronics. . .”
At that instant the missile reached its apogee high in the sky over southern Taiwan. The Captain’s answer was drowned in a large crack of static, and the phone receiver in Flint’s hand went dead. The radar screen briefly flashed white and then went black. The ship’s lights wavered and went out, replaced by ghostly glow of emergency lighting. The radiomen tore off their headphones, cursing loudly and holding their ears in pain. “What in the h-e-l-l was that?” someone exclaimed.
Colonel Flint didn’t exactly know, but he had a very bad feeling. A standard nuclear weapon would have produced a noise and a shock wave, but the only sound in the Combat Information Center had been a loud electrical pop. And the ship had not been hit by a concussion, at least one he could feel. “Rez?” he said questioningly.
“It was a nuke all right,” his intelligence officer said quietly. “but, judging by where it detonated, one designed to channel all its energy into a giant electro-magnetic pulse. I’m betting that every radar and radio receiver on board has been blown out, at least those that were on.”
So the Chinese had actually used a nuke in combat. The thought made his blood run cold. The Cold War, with its bluff and bluster and brinksmanship, suddenly seemed like child’s play in comparison. Get a grip, Flint, he told himself.
“Rez, get to the Captain, tell him what happened, and that the MEU is preparing to disembark. Then assemble the A Command team and meet me on the deck. Let’s wing out of here before the Chinese draw a bead on one of these deaf, dumb, and blind sitting ducks.”
Colonel Flint was not far off the mark in his assessment. The four ships of the flotilla were blind and deaf, if not completely dumb. Every radar and radio receiver not turned off or disconnected was damaged by the massive electro-magnetic shock wave. Most of their computer systems, hardened at great cost to withstand just such an attack, survived. A fair amount of electrical wiring was burned through, however, and anything attached to an antenna was toast. The chaotic nature of the destruction would make repairs very challenging.
“Jeff, how did the birds come through the attack?” Colonel Flint was addressing his ACE commander, Lieutenant Colonel Jefferson.
Lieutenant Colonel Jefferson looked grave. “Sir, every radio receiver still connected and on during the burst is burned out – we’re still checking those we managed to take down just before the attack. Navigational gear is mostly gone too, except for the inertial systems and the compasses. The engines are functional. We had just enough time to shut down and switch off before the pulse hit us.”
“So the Harriers and the helos will fly?”
“Yes, Colonel. We have wings, but I wouldn’t want to fly at night or for long distances over water.”
“We’re only 12 miles from friendly territory, Jeff. The ROC forces know that we’re here doing exercises, and won’t fire upon us, I hope.”
“Yes, Colonel,” Lieutenant Colonel Jefferson nodded. “But what about those other guys?” He gestured west.
“I don’t intend to be here when they come back,” Colonel Flint said evenly. “Make sure at least one Harrier has a functioning radio, then launch her on a recon flight. I want the pilot to check on our pre-selected landing sites around the port and airport and report back.” He turned to go, then said over his shoulder. “And, Jeff, grab enough stores to repair the other receivers and weapons systems of the Cobras and Harriers once we get ashore.”
“Already started, sir!”
“I knew there was a reason you were the only rotor-head I loved!”
Lieutenant Colonel Jefferson flashed a broad, toothy grin and turned, yelling orders. A few seconds later the catapult whooshed, and a Harrier leapt into the sky.
Colonel Flint heard Rez’s familiar voice clearing behind him. “Sir, we’re in a pickle. All the radar and ship self-defense systems have been knocked off line. The Curtis Wilbur has some spare components for its CIWS and is trying to get one back to on line, but the amphibians are hurting. Hell, the Dubuque was down to one CIWS for lack of spare parts prior to the attack. Sir, we’re like newborn puppies out here.”
“Blind and defenseless,” Colonel Flint said under his breath. He looked at the horizon, then up at the sky. There was nothing in view except a handful of cumulus clouds, but his instincts were screaming danger again, louder than before. Gathering himself up, he turned to his command team. “Prepare to disembark the MEU. We will remain on station until the recon pilot reports back, then select our landing sites.”
“Sir,” his XO piped up, “wouldn’t that be committing U.S. ground troops for the defense of Taiwan?”
“Those are my orders,” Colonel Flint said firmly, projecting the command presence that his Marines would follow into the Gates of Hell itself. “Carry them out—now.” His subordinates leaped into action.
All but one. Lieutenant Colonel Burl quailed under Colonel Flint’s fierce gaze, but stood his ground.
“Alright, Colonel Burl,” Colonel Flint said easily. “You want an explanation. I’ll give you an explanation. We have been attacked by the Chinese in international waters. That is a de facto declaration of war.”
“But all that happened was that some radios, computers and wiring got fried,” Burl protested. “No one was killed.”
“Just because no one got killed doesn’t mean that we’re not under attack,” Colonel Flint replied. “Look, Colonel, it is not my intent to drag America into a conflict the Commander-in-Chief hasn’t yet authorized, but it’s my responsibility to ensure the safety of the Marines in my charge. I am going to take them out of harm’s way. You know as well as I do that we are completely defenseless out here. Anything could take us out.”
“You’re right, sir,” the XO admitted grudgingly. “It’s just that . . .” The first of the CH-53s lifted off, drowning out the rest of his sentence.
“I don’t have time for this right now.” The MEU commander’s voice began to escalate. “Have you become ball-less like the rest of them? Like the Joint Chiefs, like the Commander-in-Chief? Look, it’s easy to start a war when the bastards can’t shoot back very well, or when they don’t have nukes. But these guys are playing for keeps. XO, if they win, they get all the marbles—you can kiss the U.S. of A goodbye in the 21st century. Damn it, I’m not going down quietly with the ship. I’m taking my Marines and making a stand on Taiwan.”
The XO sighed and looked at his feet. Behind him another helicopter rose into the sky, then another. The catapult whooshed and yet another Harrier took flight. The LCACs were emerging from the flooded bay of the USS Germantown. “My heart tells me you’re right,” he said finally. “My head tells me that helping to start World War Three would not be a good career move.”
“I’m glad you’re with me, Colonel,” Colonel Flint said dryly. “Now go take up your post as the head of B Command.”
“Yes, sir,” the XO said, not bothering to salute.
Colonel Flint watched his Marines running for their helos. Within two minutes six CH-46 Sea Knights were orbiting the USS Dubuque while the USS Belleau Wood had five CH-53 Super Stallions and eight Sea Knights airborne. The bay doors of the USS Germantown opened, and the LCAC floated out, then cranked up their fan rotors to put some distance between themselves and the ship. The slower Assault Amphibians
then emerged, looking like awkward sea turtles bobbing up and down in the waves. These were his problem, he realized, for they could only travel five knots in calm seas. By the time these men got ashore they would be puking their guts out.
The commodore of Amphibious Squadron Eleven, Captain Bright, watched the helos head for shore, followed by the swift boats and LCAC, and the slow, clumsy, turtle-like Assault Amphibians. He heaved a sigh of relief.
* * *
American intelligence knew about the Chinese C-301, also known as the HY-3, long-range supersonic anti-ship missile. They thought it was not yet deployed and in service with the People’s Liberation Army-Navy. Unfortunately, this was not so. The Chinese tested the missile in 1997. They decided it had so much potential that they ordered 1,000 be built within 18 months with 1,000 per year built thereafter through 2004. The missile could be launched from ship or from land. It had four solid rocket boosters and two kerosene-fueled ramjet engines which together, boosted the missile to a speed of Mach 2.0 (covering the distance of a mile in about 2.5 seconds). It had a range of 150 miles and used commercially obtained GPS receivers to achieve 10-meter accuracy to a waypoint. It would cruise at about 500 feet, then dive to 100 feet just before the active-radar terminal phase began. Its 800-pound warhead was very destructive, especially to modern warships, most of which lacked armor.
Prior to launching the first wave of 300 C-301s, the Chinese computed all known locations of ROC naval shipping and input the coordinates into the missiles. With the coordinates, the missiles would fly out to a pre-set location, then begin searching for targets in the target “box.” Once a target was identified, the missile would dive in for the kill.
Normally, the fast, large and unmaneuverable missile was easy prey for CIWS (Close-In Weapon System) such as the U.S. Phalanx. In a fair fight, the Chinese planned to use saturation tactics, launching as many as 50 of the powerful missiles at a single capital ship. Of course, one of the central objects in war is not to engage in a fair fight. The E-bomb attack was expected to neutralize the ROC fleet’s advantage in advanced electronics and defensive systems. This in turn would ensure a field day for the C-301s.
At Central China Coastal Defense Headquarters in Quanzhou, about 130 miles across the Strait from Taichung, Taiwan, the PLAN admiral in charge of sweeping the seas of the enemy faced a dilemma. His targeting efforts bore much fruit. He estimated his missile strike, timed to launch only ten minutes after the E-bomb attack (giving the missile crews time to re-connect crucial electrical systems in case the E-bombs were a little more powerful or less focused than expected) would sink or seriously damage 50% of the ROC fleet. The remainder of the enemy ships were in port or underway out of range. This was exceptional. The PLAN would rapidly and easily achieve naval superiority in the Straits. Combined with the PLAAF strike on ROCAF air assets, the rebellious island would be stripped bare of its defenses and ripe for the taking.
No, the admiral’s dilemma was not due to a lack of success, it was due to too much success. His targeting efforts had also revealed the location and speed of the USS Belleau Wood task force. These four United States vessels together possessed an impressive array of defensive and offensive firepower, as well as the training and the record to prove it. The admiral hated to admit it, but he admired American naval and military prowess.
He knew there was a very strong likelihood that the American ships would at least be temporarily blinded by the E-bomb attack as they were only 20 kilometers off the coast of Taiwan—well within the projected envelop of electronic destruction. The question was whether or not to purposefully attack the Americans.
He noted the presence of a small, but important ROC naval group only five kilometers away from the Americans. If he targeted these ROC vessels, surely a stray missile or two would attack the American fleet. An accidental attack in these situations might be viewed by the Americans as an attack on purpose. This would certainly propel the Americans into the war on the side of the Taiwanese as surely as the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor sealed the destruction of the Axis powers.
Or would it? The admiral thought of the USS Stark, an American frigate “accidentally” hit by an Iraqi French-made Exocet missile in 1986 during the Iran-Iraq war. Or the USS Liberty, an American spy ship attacked by Israel in the 1967 war. In both cases, the U.S. did not respond militarily.
The thought of taking down four modern American ships was too much to resist. But, what would Beijing say? The American ships were in the Strait against the express warning of the Government of the PRC. They can’t say we didn’t warn them, can they?
The admiral gave the go ahead for a full-scale attack. They would target every naval and ROC commercial vessel in the Strait as planned. He was careful not to specify that by “naval” he meant the American naval forces too. He knew his staff well and they knew him well. He didn’t have to leave a paper trail—they understood his intent.
The Admiral smiled to himself. It would be a fine thing to give the Americans a taste of their own medicine after the brazen American attack on the Chinese Embassy in Belgrade in 1999.
He mentally tallied up his targets. His list began with Americans:
USS Belleau Wood, LHA 3, displacement: 39,400 tons
USS Dubuque, LPD 8, displacement: 17,000 tons
USS Germantown, LSD 42, displacement: 15,939 tons
USS Curtis Wilbur, DDG 54, displacement: 8,300 tons
It was 0817 hours local time. On the Chinese coast, 150 miles to the west four minutes and fifteen seconds before, the first wave of C-301 missiles were launched. The missiles leapt off their launch rails and accelerated rapidly to Mach 1.8. As the four solid rocket motors fell away, two ramjets kicked in and took the speed to Mach 2.0. The ROC ships in and around Quemoy Island were already on fire or sinking. The same fate attended to those ships near Matsu Island. The PLAN admiral had designated 30 missiles for the box containing the American ships. He ordered another 12 sent beyond the Americans to attack the three ROC Navy ships further to the east. It would all look so perfectly accidental. What could the Americans claim? If they said that the Chinese targeted them on purpose, it would mean a war that the Americans were neither materially, nor mentally prepared to wage. If the Americans backed down, the loss of face would cause their immediate expulsion from Asia—or at least their complete irrelevance.
On board the Curtis Wilbur, DDG-54, the crews were struggling mightily to get the Aegis phased array radar system back on line. The shock wave of electro-magnetic energy had overwhelmed the super sensitive radar system. It was designed to be electronically hard, but there was only so much hardening possible. Fortunately, the surface-to-air Standard Missiles had been protected within their launch canisters, but, without radar to provide warning and guidance and without a computer to calculate and control, the missiles were next to worthless. One of the Phalanx close-in weapon systems held some hope of being repaired. The little white protective system, shaped like half of a medicine capsule, had a radar under the domed part and a 20mm Gatling gun at the bottom. The aft CIWS was partially shielded from the worst effects of the pulse by the ship’s superstructure. It sustained minimal damage. Repair crews were frantically performing diagnostics on it while stringing a new power line up to it to replace the burnt-out internal wiring.
The commodore of Amphibious Squadron 11, Captain Bright, reluctantly gave his approval to Colonel Flint’s plan. He didn’t like the idea of the Marines preparing to jump ship, but he really couldn’t blame them.
On the well deck of the Germantown four LCACs screamed to life, their jet turbines lifting them off the water of the flooded well deck and into the open ocean. Each LCAC carried one M1A1 Abrams tank. On the Belleau Wood’s smaller well deck a single LCAC roared to life. It held four LAVs and 24 Marines.
While none of the ships had a functioning radio, they all still had Morse signal-lamps. With this primitive, but reliable communications method, Captain Bright marshaled his crippled fleet. If his signal-lamps failed, he coul
d send his commands with semaphores or flying pennants. He thanked God the Navy had 225-year-old traditions unencumbered by progress. He ordered the four ships to draw closer together (thankfully, they all still had full power to their shafts) to enhance any protection the single CIWS on the Curtis Wilbur might provide as soon as it got back on line.
The first missiles came like a sudden thunderstorm out of the west. Piercing sonic booms raked the U.S. ships as five missiles headed overhead to strike unseen targets to the east.
Two seconds later a seaman performing lookout duties on board the USS Germantown picked himself off the deck and looked into the distance with his binoculars. He saw four orange dots low on the horizon. They suddenly dipped and for a moment the orange dots looked like small candle flames. He screamed over the hurriedly repaired intercom, “Missiles inbound! Four missiles inbound!”
Half a second later a cloud of aluminum chaff strips ejected from the rear of the ship, attempting to decoy the missiles off. Normally, with a radar giving plenty of warning, the chaff would be fired much sooner. With only visual detection, the Mk 36 Super Rapid-Blooming Off Board Chaff System (SRBOC) was fired when the missiles were only a mile off.
One missile was decoyed, flying 50 feet off the stern before exploding in the sea. The other three dove into the ship, their 800 lb. semi-armor piercing warheads used a delayed impact fuse. One missile hit at the waterline and penetrated two decks below. The fuse failed on impact and the warhead simply lodged in the ship. The other two missiles punched their way in aft and exploded in the well deck in open air, just above where the four LCACs were resting only seconds before. The well deck’s flooding mechanism and stern door were a shambles but otherwise, the Germantown was still in good condition.