Able Sentry

by John Schettler

  “You argued this when we spoke last month,” said Zhang. “Yet I could not agree. I had Zhendong on my mind. That carrier had to be saved, if possible, and Wu Jinlong preserved it. Yet now I see how Admiral Sun Wei is fighting as much for time as anything else. One thing in his situation is quite clear. Without the support of land based air power, he could not hold his position long. In the South China Sea we will now have two carriers operational, but we must do everything possible to augment their strength with land based aircraft.”

  “But where do we base them if we move on Singapore again?” asked Wu Jinlong. “The field on Riau Island is too small, and easily interdicted by their Tomahawk missile strikes.”

  “We have sent more SAM batteries to defend it,” said Zhang. “That will allow you to cruise off that island and utilize additional fighter cover. We have also sent Army Engineer battalions to repair the damage and keep that field operational. Operating there, your YJ-100’s can close the lower portion of the Strait of Malacca.”

  “I thought our intention was to open it,” said Zheng Bao.

  “In the long run, yes, but unless we control the Indian Ocean, nothing comes to the Strait of Malacca bound for China. That has been made clear thus far. And gentlemen, we will not win control of the Indian Ocean. That is also clear.”

  “This war was a great mistake,” said Zheng Bao, and Wu Jinlong raised an eyebrow at that. It was rare for even a highly placed officer to speak his real mind.

  Zhang Wendan scratched his chin. “Such sentiments will be called defeatism. Yet you are not alone in thinking this. Frankly, we should have waited until the 2030 building cycle was complete. We would have had ten more Type 055’s and two more carriers. And if we had waited until 2050, imagine the strength we would have at our disposal.”

  “Now we will spend all those years simply rebuilding new ships to replace those we have lost. Do you realize that we have only put one American ship out of operation, and we have not sunk even one of their ships!” The frustration of Zheng Bao was quite evident.

  “Admiral Sun Wei reports that one of our submarines hit another American destroyer.”

  “Indeed? Well, that makes two. How many ships did you say we have lost?”

  “Sun Wei has done quite well against the British. He sunk eleven Royal Navy ships. And Wu Jinlong here has done equally well. He sunk thirteen British ships, and six more from Singapore. Our YJ-18 proved to be a very formidable weapon.”

  “Wonderful,” said Zheng Bao. “It’s fortunate that the Soviets designed it, and were kind enough to leave stores at Haishenwai so that we could reverse engineer it. Forgive me, but please understand my frustration. To have any chance of winning, we must sink American ships, not just those of the Royal Navy. And I note that this Admiral Wells has redeemed himself by securing the Gulf of Aden. Suez has been reopened, and we have lost all our positions in Africa.”

  “Those bases remain under our control.”

  “Yet they are worth nothing to us now. We cannot project power from any of them. They are merely decorations on our String of Pearls.”

  Chapter 30

  “Your words are harsh,” said Zhang Wendan, “but I know you to be a realist, Zheng Bao. Still I caution you—not everyone will tolerate such sentiments. You must be careful with such words.”

  “You know I will fight to the end, but to what end? What are we trying to accomplish? We wanted the Ryukyus to secure the First Island Chain and humble the Japanese, and so we have them. Now the enemy counters our move by striking at all our overseas bases. They are battling to sever all our maritime lines of communication to China. So yes, Wu Jinlong can sit west of Riau Island for seven moons, but unless Admiral Sun Wei defeats the Americans, unless we preserve our positions on Sri Lanka, then it is all for naught.”

  “Which brings us to the great gambit I will now propose,” said Zhang. “Earlier I argued we could not dare to enter the Strait of Malacca, for we would essentially be cut off and have no choice other than to enter the Andaman Sea and Bay of Bengal. Those would be difficult seas to fight in, for lack of air cover. But what if we had the cooperation of Thailand? What if we could base our fighters here, at Surat Thani. That base covers the wider mouth of the Malacca Strait, and what if Wu Jinlong were to take his fleet through the Strait to the Andaman Sea?”

  “Why?” said Zheng, still seeing no light at the end of the tunnel.

  “A moment ago you pointed out the necessity of preserving our bases in Sri Lanka. Hambantoa is no longer operational, but we still have Colombo, and China Bay. If Wu Jinlong maneuvers as I suggest now, then he can move from the Andaman Sea to Sri Lanka.”

  “Then who guards the South China Sea?”

  “Deng Zhilong is not pressed in the East China Sea. He will send Admiral Kai Yong with a flotilla to support the South China Sea. We have adequate strength, and neither the Americans or Japanese show any signs of challenging us in those seas.”

  “Then you are proposing and expeditionary operation—to Sri Lanka?” Wu Jinlong was quite surprised. “How would the fleet refuel? That is over 2000 miles from Riau Island.”

  “We have oilers here,” said Zhand Wendan, “at Phuket and Kandang. And yes, we have the basing rights at Surat Thani on the long monkey’s tail of Thailand. ”

  “Astounding,” said Wu Jinlong, for there was no other way he might react to such a proposal. “Am I to take the fleet flagship?”

  “That has yet to be decided,” said Zhang.

  “Yet to be decided… I see the rest of the General Staff is not of the same mind on this. They see it for what it surely is—a desperate gambit, and I must agree. Such a move would be reckless, and strategically unsound. Once I transit the narrows off Singapore and move up the Malacca Strait, the Americans will slam the door shup behind me. They will mine the strait, and infest that area with submarines. I would never get my ships back to the South China Sea again. To undertake such a mission would be sheer madness, and we would lose the entire fleet, trapping it in the Indian Ocean along with Admiral Sun Wei.”

  “Yet if it were to succeed, we not only preserve our position in Sri Lanka, but also operate to relieve the pressure on Admiral Sun Wei in the Gulf of Oman. He could even sortie to link up with you, and double our strength in one massive fleet.”

  Wu Jinlong was not convinced. “If we move through the Strait of Malacca, then what will the Americans do? They will either follow us, or simply move south through the Sunda Strait and then up the west coast of Sumatra.” He pointed at the map. “By the time I reach the Andaman Sea, they would be here, in the waters between Sri Lanka and the northwest tip of Sumatra.”

  “All true,” said Zhang Wendan. “But we must fight them somewhere. We either sit off Riau Island and duel with them as before, or we make this bold move to secure our interests in the Indian Ocean and fight them there. It is the same battle, but the stakes get higher for us if we should win”

  “Or lose,” said Wu Jinlong. “Do you realize we could lose the entire fleet?”

  “You will not let that happen.”

  “No, I certainly will not. If you persist in this thinking, then I must resign my commission.”

  Zheng Bao looked at the Admiral, seeing he was dead serious. Zhang Wendan folded his hands on the desktop. “We simply must have a victory,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Wu Jinlong, “and against the Americans. But if you sent my fleet through the Singapore strait, this war will surely be lost, along with all those ships. The South Seas fleet would then be so weakened that we could lose control there as well. So before you press me further on this, let me propose an alternative. Let us strike where they least expect it now. Look at the latest intelligence reports. Their Washington Carrier Strike Group is far to the north at Japan. Their Enterprise is waiting for us in the west Java Sea. They are widely separated, so this offers us an opportunity.”

  “What opportunity?”

  Wu Jinlong smiled. “All this time, the Americans have been busy building
their own little string of Pearls. They already had Guam, and now they are establishing bases on Yap and Palau, so I say this… leave sufficient forces at Cam Ranh Bay to be able to defend entry to the south China Sea, and protect our base at Ranai. Then, instead of throwing good money after bad with this move into the Strait of Malacca, we move instead into the Celebs Sea.”

  “For what purpose?

  “Why are the Americans building these forward bases? Because they were thrown out of the Philippines, where we now have very good relations, and opportunities for more basing rights. Those American bases are stepping stones to the south China Sea, and I will tell you what they will do when the war comes to that theater—and it will, as soon as this business in the Middle East runs its course. They will look at moving into the southern Philippines—Mindanao, and since they cannot negotiate for bases there, they will simply seize them. So we must get there first.”

  “Get where?” asked Zhang Wendan.

  “Here, Davao, with an excellent harbor and large airfield. And here, Karakelong Island. There is a fine airfield on its southern tip, and it is a great barrier island for defending entry to the Celebes Sea. We have already seen them use those waters to operate against our bases at Miri, and Ranai. They will do so again, unless we defend that sea, and that we must. To strike south at Singapore is useless. To strike east through the Celebs Sea offers many advantages. We not only operate to control those waters, and deny them to the enemy, but we extend our defensive perimeter to the second island chain. From there, we can pose a direct threat to these new American bases on Palau and Yap, and even Guam is threatened by such a move.”

  “With great difficulty,” said Zheng Bao. “If the Dong Feng system is made available in good numbers, then we might get a lucky hit on their Anderson AFB. We have had little luck against moving targets like their carriers.”

  “I understand,” said Zhang. “Many were already fired at the American carriers from Northern Pakistan, yet none scored hits. But we have other means. Yes?”

  “Other means?” said Wu Jinlong. “Well, to use our most effective missile, the YJ-18, I must get inside 290 miles. The Americans stay 315 to 325 miles away from us, as a matter of policy, or so it seems. Every time I attempt to close the range, they simply ease away, and they are too fast for us to catch them. So that leaves me nothing but the YJ-100, which we only carry on the few Type 055 heavy destroyers we have left. It is not enough to saturate their formidable SAM defenses, not to mention the fact that they can also use their air wing defensively. This is why we have not sunk any American ships, Admiral. We do not have an offensive strong enough to break their shield.”

  “Then how could we strengthen our attack?”

  “Only the air force might help,” said Wu Jinlong. “Yet that needs land bases close enough to the enemy to allow for strikes. Admiral Sun Wei had nearly 100 strike planes in Pakistan, but very few could get close enough to the Americans to make any difference. What we need is real standoff strike capability if we are ever to attack these American bases—we need the War Gods.”

  There was silence in the room for a moment, for they all knew what Wu Jinlong was asking. The War Gods were China’s aging but still viable fleet of long range H-6 strategic bombers, another design copied from the Soviets. 120 were still in service with the Air Force and another 30 with the Navy. Wu Jinlong expected this request would certainly be denied, because those bombers were a tightly controlled resource, reserved for home defense and any battle involving the control of the East and South China Seas.

  “How many?” said Zhang Wendan, a determined look on his face, suddenly very interested in this new plan.

  Now Wu Jinlong realized that this was, indeed, a desperate time for the nation, which is why they sought to relieve the forces trapped in the Arabian Sea. The General Staff must have discussed it, and argued it for hours before it would be on the lips of Zhang Wendan in this meeting. They are serious, he thought, and I was summoned here to give my opinion as the operational commander who would have to carry this mission out. Now I have given it, and more. They know that if we merely sit on defense, we will be slowly hammered into submission, so now there will be no restraints. They are reaching, taking enormous risks, and my neck will be on the chopping block if I do this mission to the Strait of Malacca. I have proposed a viable alternative, and now I will tell them what I would really need.

  “At least 30 bombers,” he said. “For real power, 60. At Davao, no less than 24 J-20’s with all equipment necessary to operate them at long range. 48 would be better, and I want as many JH-7B strike fighters there as possible, with the YJ-12 and land attack cruise missiles.”

  “Anything else?” Asked Zhang Wendan, so Wu Jinlong stated the obvious.

  “Taifeng,” he said flatly. “Loaded with J-31’s. The fleet flagship is absolutely essential on such a mission. Why let it sit in the South China Sea? Do we not have thousands of fighters on bases that can cover those waters? So if the General Staff wants to dream up these mad operations, then let them really put on their armor and fight. I have proposed a real strategic alternative that takes the fight to the Americans—not a rescue mission to the Arabian Sea that will surely fail. We must risk everything—all or nothing.” He rested his case, folding his arms.

  * * *

  That night, the Admirals would dine again together, sitting around a large round table with many staff officers. Eight cold dishes were brought out first, the number chosen for good luck. During the coming Lunar New Year holidays, it was also customary for people to exchange small red envelopes inlaid with ornate drawings in gold foil. Money was generally inside them, but in this case, Admiral Zhang Wendan had one of his aides write characters on parchment paper.

  “Admiral,” he said after toasting Wu Jinlong. “I invite you to look under your plate before we fill it with all this good food.”

  Surprised, Wu Jinlong lifted his plate to find a red envelope, and opening it, he drew out the first paper with the characters written for the words “War Gods.” On the back was a number, 36. He raised his eyebrows, reaching for the next piece of parchment. The Characters read “Mighty Dragon,” and the number on the back was the bold number 60. The third paper read “Flying Leopard” the name of the JH-7B, and its number was 36. Considering that China had only built a total of 120 of those aircraft, the JH-7B strike plane, that was generous.

  “I am honored,” said Wu Jinlong. He was receiving 60 of 300 J-20’s remaining in the entire Air Force, and 36 of the 120 H-6 Bombers.

  “Of course there will also be support from other aircraft, the J-10’s and even a few of a new model, the J-11. And here is one that would not fit in your envelope.” Zhang Wendan reached into his dress white coat pocket, and pulled out another piece of parchment. This one read Dong Feng, East Wind, and the number was 12. “For Guam,” he said. The General Staff has approved your plan.”

  “That is very good news,” said Wu Jinlong. “The Air Force has been very generous,” said Wu Jinlong. “And the Navy?”

  “Actually, most of the bombers were ours,” said Zhang. “But if you ask about Taifeng, I can tell you the ship is yours, with a full complement of all necessary aircraft. To make matters even better, the ship you saw safely back to a friendly port will also accompany you, Zhendong. It is ready for operations again. The crewmen are calling the ship the Black Cat, for it has had its hull blackened by enemy fire twice now, and seems to have many lives.”

  The Admirals dined, all smiles, and there was no further talk of numbers or strategy, but as he ate, Wu Jinlong could feel the weight growing on his shoulders. This is a bold operation, he knew. The Navy fears the imminent loss of our entire Indian Ocean Fleet, but that cannot be helped. So the General Staff is willing to risk a considerable portion of the South Seas Fleet, my 25 ships, and two of our last four carriers, in my plan to extend our defensive perimeter and reduce these new American bases. That was very wise.

  After dinner, he and Zhang Wendan spoke alone, and the serious
ness of this operation was made evident.

  “We cannot afford another costly defeat,” said Zhang. “If you move east, the Americans will have to take measures to oppose you, and that might take some pressure of Sun Wei, and buy us valuable time in the Arabian Sea.”

  “The opening moves of this game will be the most difficult,” said Wu Jinlong. “I must use a little deception… offer them a pawn as a gambit, and convince them that I am operating as before, against Singapore. I will then bull my way into the Celebs Sea instead, and race to the waters off Davao. That port must be used as our primary fleet support base. We will have to strike all their bases on Palau and Yap. I will use the Flying Leopards for that, and any support the Vietnamese can offer. They have an excellent land attack cruise missile. If I succeed, the American carrier in the Java Sea will have to move to oppose me, either through the Makassar Strait or by moving into the Banda Sea”

  “You can refuel at Davao,” said Zhang Wendan. It has already been negotiated, along with basing rights for the J-20’s. We have oilers waiting for you there, well hidden among the commercial ships in that harbor.”

  “Good,” said Wu Jinlong. “And those 36 War Gods will smile upon me.”

  “Correct.”

  “What is this operation to be called?” asked Wu Jinlong.

  “Sea Eagle. I used all my influence with the General Staff to get them to change their minds. Your plan is much to be preferred. So fight, Wu Jinlong… Fight hard. Shin-ko la! Give us the victory we so desperately need.”

  Part XI

  The Aberration

  “Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.”

  ― Albert Einstein

  Chapter 31

  Kirov and Kursk had cruised with the New Jersey group for some time, and then winked farewell with the ship’s lamps as the Americans slipped away, up through the long Malacca Strait, bound for Sri Lanka. As for Karpov, he would linger in the Java Sea, after a lengthy port of call at Jakarta. That was good shore leave for the crew, but his restless soul wanted to move to the sound of the guns, or in this case, the missiles.