USS Towers Box Set

by Jeff Edwards

  “We’ve done some initial assessments of the potential consequences if the Three Gorges Dam should suffer catastrophic failure,” Brenthoven said. “Our analysts estimate that the death toll in China could go as high as 350 million. It’s also likely that three of China’s most prosperous cities will be completely wiped out, crippling the Chinese economy for several decades.”

  “I haven’t seen any such projections,” the ambassador said, “but that sounds like a bit of an exaggeration to me.”

  “We don’t think so,” Brenthoven said. “In fact, our early calculations may actually turn out to be optimistic.”

  Ambassador Shankar said nothing. All of this really was a surprise to her. She had no idea how much of it—if any—might be true.

  Brenthoven closed his little notebook and slipped it back into his pocket. “Madam Ambassador, if this attack on the Three Gorges Dam takes place, we believe there’s a very strong chance that the People’s Republic of China will retaliate with a major nuclear strike.”

  “That’s absurd!” the ambassador said.

  “We don’t think so,” Brenthoven said. “If you hit the PRC that hard, we think they’ll strike back even harder.”

  The ambassador found her own eyes travelling around her office. “We shouldn’t talk about this here,” she said. “We should move this discussion to the bubble.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Gregory Brenthoven said. “Why don’t we do that?”

  CHAPTER 25

  USS TOWERS (DDG-103)

  BAY OF BENGAL

  FRIDAY; 28 NOVEMBER

  1924 hours (7:24 PM)

  TIME ZONE +6 ‘FOXTROT’

  The Tactical Action Officer, Lieutenant Ben Lambert, kept an eye on the giant Aegis display screens that dominated the central section of Combat Information Center. On the tactical display, four unknown-aircraft symbols were moving rapidly toward the perimeter of the USS Midway’s defensive ring of surface ships.

  Lambert pressed the electronic soft-key that patched his comm headset into the ship’s telephone system, and he punched the three-digit phone number for the captain’s stateroom. “Captain, this is the TAO. Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we’ve got four Bogies inbound from the west. No modes, no codes, and no IFF.”

  “Thank you,” Captain Bowie said. “I’m on my way. Do me a favor, and give Commander Silva a call. I’m sure she’ll want to be in on this.”

  “Will do, sir,” the TAO said.

  * * *

  Less than three minutes later, Captain Bowie and Commander Silva were standing behind the TAO, looking over his shoulder at the tactical display.

  “Whose tracks are we seeing, here?” Bowie asked.

  USS Towers was running quiet and dark—taking full advantage of her cutting-edge stealth capabilities to hide from the sensors of other ships and aircraft. The odd angles of the destroyer’s hull and superstructure had been meticulously calculated to deflect incoming radar, robbing potential enemies of the return signals needed to detect and track the ship. This advanced geometry design was enhanced by the radar absorbent polymerized carbon fiber tiles and phototropic camouflage that covered the majority of the ship’s exposed surfaces.

  Coupled with acoustic masking and thermal suppression systems, these technologies did an astoundingly effective job of concealing a 9,800 ton warship on the open sea. But no amount of crafty engineering could disguise the transmissions of the ship’s own radar systems. If the Towers energized her radars, they would light up the electromagnetic spectrum like the proverbial Christmas tree. Any chance of concealment would be instantly gone.

  The only way to achieve effective stealth was to shut down all radars and transmitters, and depend on sensor feeds from other U.S. Navy assets in the area.

  That’s what the Towers was doing now, sliding quietly through the night, guided only by tactical data inputs from the ships and aircraft in the USS Midway strike group.

  “These tracks are coming in from Hawkeye,” the TAO said.

  ‘Hawkeye,’ referred to one of the E-2D Airborne Early Warning planes providing long-range radar surveillance coverage for the aircraft carrier and the air wing.

  Commander Silva nodded. “Doesn’t look like they’re going to overfly us directly,” she said.

  The TAO checked his console for amplified target motion data on the four unknown aircraft. “Good eye, ma’am. The Bogies won’t overfly us. Unless their flight profile changes, they’ll CPA us about ten miles to the north, in roughly eight minutes.”

  “They’re going after the Midway,” Silva said.

  “Looks that way to me,” the TAO said. “They’re flying low and fast, with their radars shut down. I think they’re trying to give our carrier a little goose.”

  “That sounds like a pretty fair assessment,” said Captain Bowie.

  His eyes stayed fixed on the four aircraft symbols. “If I had to guess, I’d say we’re looking at J-15s from the Chinese carrier group. Two flights of two.”

  “Could be,” the TAO said. “Do we let them pass, or do we challenge?”

  “We could let them go,” Bowie said. “That Hawkeye has got them nailed. Our Bogies will have F-18s crawling all over them before they get close to the carrier.”

  “True,” the TAO said. There was a wistful note in his voice, as though he’d been hoping for something a bit more exciting out of his first real-world encounter with a potential air threat.

  Bowie smiled. “On the other hand, our current EMCON status is self-imposed. We’re running dark and quiet for the practice, not because we have orders to maintain emission control.”

  The TAO grinned. “Think we should rattle their cage, sir?”

  The captain returned his grin. “Why not? No fire control radars. It’s okay to spook these guys, but let’s not give them an excuse to shoot.”

  The TAO keyed his mike. “All Stations—TAO, now set Modified EMCON Delta. Unrestricted emissions except for fire control, effective immediately. Maximum safe power levels. I say again, all transmitters on line immediately at maximum safe power levels. Break. Air—TAO, I want a high-power SPY sweep of sector two-niner-zero to three-five-zero.”

  The AN/SPY-1D(V)2 phased-array radar was the backbone of the ship’s Aegis integrated sensor and weapons suite. With a power output of over four million watts, SPY could confuse or even damage the sensitive avionics in most aircraft.

  The TAO was still grinning. Those Chinese pilots were about to get the surprise of their lives. One second, they’re sneaking along in the dark, hugging the waves and trying to be invisible. Everything is nice and quiet—no sign of anything at all between them and their objective. The next second, bam! A U.S. Navy destroyer right in their faces, pumping out four megawatts of microwave power, making their warning buzzers scream and their instruments go haywire.

  The Air Supervisor’s voice came over the net. “TAO—Air. SPY is on line and transmitting. Full power sweep of sector two-niner-zero to three-five-zero in progress.”

  “And here we go…” the TAO said.

  On the Aegis tactical display, the four unknown aircraft symbols swung hard to the left, sheering away from the Towers and the Midway.

  A half-second later, the Air Supervisor’s voice came over the net again. “TAO—Air, Bogies are bugging out. Looks like they’re running home to the barn.”

  The TAO keyed up. “Roger, Air. Keep an eye on them anyway. We don’t want them sneaking back around to return the surprise.”

  “That was easy,” Commander Silva said.

  The Tactical Action Officer nodded. “Just a friendly gesture, to let our Chinese buddies know that the United States Navy is in the neighborhood. Sort of like the Welcome Wagon.”

  Silva shook her head. “We were early,” she said. “We should have waited, and done that next month.”

  The TAO looked at her. “I’m not sure what you mean, Commander…”

  “Thanksgiving is over,” Silva said. “And we just gave those guys their Christmas goose
a whole month ahead of time.”

  The TAO grinned again. “I think they’ll forgive us, ma’am.”

  “I hope you’re right about that,” Captain Bowie said. “I hope you’re right.”

  CHAPTER 26

  FINAL TRAJECTORY:

  A DEVELOPMENTAL HISTORY OF THE CRUISE MISSILE

  (Excerpted from working notes presented to the National Institute for Strategic Analysis. Reprinted by permission of the author, David M. Hardy, PhD.)

  With the V-1 rocket, the Luftwaffe’s flying bomb effort made a complete break from the propeller-driven airframes and remote control systems of previous designs. The new German weapon was a self-controlling robot, utilizing automatic onboard guidance mechanisms in place of a remote human operator. The new design eliminated propeller-driven engines, in favor of a rudimentary (but effective) pulse jet engine that was little more than a tube-shaped fuel combustion chamber.

  The weapon was formally designated as the Fiesler Fi-103, but the Nazi propaganda corps began referring to it as the Vergeltungswaffe Einz (Vengeance Weapon 1), a title that was quickly shortened to V-1 in common usage.

  Unlike prior generations of drones and aerial torpedoes, the V-1 did not resemble conventional aircraft of the day. Its sheet-steel fuselage was streamlined and severely tapered, giving it a profile similar to a throwing dart. The weapon’s abrupt cruciform wings were skinned with plywood, to reduce weight and minimize cost, and the narrow stovepipe engine at its tail was like nothing before seen outside of the fictional stories of Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon.

  Indeed, the entire look of the V-1 was more like something out of a space opera adventure story than real life. But the V-1 was not a figment of creative fantasy. It was very real, and it was lethal.

  Until that point, three decades of effort and expense had yielded only a few hundred unmanned flying weapons. Not one of those programs had met with more than marginal success under actual wartime conditions. By contrast, the Nazis manufactured nearly 30,000 V-1 rockets, thousands of which were used in combat, with brutal effectiveness.

  German V-1 Rocket and Launch Rail

  (Photo courtesy of Peter Garwood, of the Balloon Barrage Reunion Club)

  With an operational range of about 155 miles, the V-1 could not fly directly from Germany to England. The Luftwaffe compensated for this shortcoming by building 96 launch sites in occupied Northern France, well within range of London.

  The first V-1 attack was launched on June 13, 1944, one week after the Allied D-Day invasion of Europe. The rocket reached the end of its flight path, and dropped out of the sky near a railway bridge in the East End of London. Eight civilians were killed in the blast.

  A handful of additional V-1 attacks were launched over the next day and a half, before the first serious barrage began. Between the afternoon of June 15th and midnight of June 16th, the German Flakregiment 155 launched 244 V-1s toward London. Approximately 90 of these failed to cross into British territory, due to problems during (or shortly after) launch. Roughly 50 impacted in uninhabited areas south of the target city, and another 22 were shot down by British antiaircraft fire. The remaining 73 weapons struck targets in London, causing significant structural damage and killing hundreds of people, most of whom were civilians.

  The strange throbbing cadence of the V-1’s pulse jet engine reminded many witnesses of the buzzing of an insect. This characteristic droning sound led to diminutive nicknames like doodlebug, and buzz bomb. But—odd noises and funny nicknames aside—there was nothing comical about the V-1 weapon itself. The people of England would soon come to associate the insectoid buzzing sound with destruction, and death.

  Controlled by a gyro-magnetic autopilot, a vane anemometer to calculate elapsed distance, and a weighted pendulum mechanism for attitude adjustment, the V-1 guidance system lacked the precision to strike small targets. Its simple guidance system was accurate enough to strike a city-sized target, and that was good enough to satisfy the tactical employment needs of the Luftwaffe.

  According to a report written by American General Clayton Bissell, Germany launched an estimated 8,025 V-1s at targets in England during a single nine-week period in 1944. More than a million houses and other buildings were damaged or destroyed, and tens of thousands of people were killed.

  Although England was the primary target of the program, the Belgian city of Antwerp was hammered by nearly 2,500 V-1 attacks.

  In March of 1945, the last V-1 launch sites in France were overrun by the advancing Allied armies, just five and a half weeks before the collapse and surrender of the Nazi Third Reich. Hitler’s infamous Vengeance Weapon #1 would no longer darken the skies over England or Belgium. The deadly reign of the buzz-bomb was over, but its legacy was only beginning.

  Captured German V-1 sites, including hundreds of unfired weapons, fell into the hands of the United States, France, and the Soviet Union. All three countries began reverse-engineering the V-1 design, and producing their own versions of the robotic flying weapon.

  Many military historians now consider the German V-1 rocket to be the first true cruise missile. There are points of argument to support this assertion, and (perhaps) an equal number which challenge it. Regardless of the accuracy of the label, it’s obvious that the V-1 program became a catalyst for the future development of cruise missile technology.

  The concept had been proven with brutal effectiveness. An unmanned aerial weapon could locate and strike a distant city, with no human intervention whatsoever. In the years following the Second World War, research and development teams all over the planet rushed to duplicate—and then exceed—the Nazis’ success with the V-1.

  The age of the cruise missile had arrived. The future of warfare would be changed forever.

  CHAPTER 27

  WHITE HOUSE

  WASHINGTON, DC

  FRIDAY; 28 NOVEMBER

  8:30 PM EST

  President Wainright shook the Indian Ambassador’s hand, and gestured for her to take a seat in one of the nine wingback chairs that formed the meeting area of the Oval Office. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Madam Ambassador. I apologize for the late hour.”

  Ambassador Shankar took the offered seat and smiled pleasantly. “Please do not trouble yourself, Mr. President. It is my duty and my pleasure to answer your summons, whenever it may come.”

  The president took his traditional position at the head of the circle of chairs, his back to the famous presidential desk—crafted from the timbers of the nineteenth-century British sailing barque, HMS Resolute.

  The ambassador’s chair was to his right, and the chair to his left was taken by National Security Advisor Gregory Brenthoven.

  “I appreciate your indulgence,” the president said. He made a loop in the air with one finger to encompass the nearly empty circle of chairs. “As you can see, we are dispensing with the usual trappings of protocol, in the interests of both speed and privacy.”

  The customary staff of diplomats and advisors was missing. Ordinarily, a direct meeting between the president and a foreign ambassador would include his chief of staff, the Secretary of State, the Assistant Secretary of State for Southeast Asian Affairs, the National Security Advisor, and a scribe from the National Security Council. Except for the National Security Advisor, everyone on that list was now absent.

  “I understand,” the ambassador said. If she was uncomfortable with the departure from established White House protocol, she didn’t show it. And this was a departure. Apart from the lack of the usual participants, it was rare for the president to meet directly with an ambassador, and even more unusual for such a meeting to occur in the Oval Office.

  Ambassadors almost always dealt with representatives of the State Department, and the meetings would typically take place in the Roosevelt Room, or—if the ambassador happened to be in ill favor—the West Wing Lobby. For Ambassador Shankar, the current meeting was contrary to all expectations: face-to-face with the president, in the Oval Office, with no diplomatic support te
am.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” the president said. “I hope you will forgive me if I skip past the polite small talk, and go directly to the matter at hand.”

  “Of course,” said the ambassador.

  “Good,” the president said. “Because I would like to know whether or not your country intends to carry out an attack on the Three Gorges Dam.”

  He nodded toward Brenthoven. “It’s my understanding that Greg… that is to say my National Security Advisor… has relayed our concerns to you regarding the potential consequences of such an attack. Have you had an opportunity to discuss this issue with your government?”

  “I have been fully briefed on my government’s intentions in this matter,” the ambassador said. “Officially, there is no plan to attack the Three Gorges Dam.”

  “What about unofficially?” the president asked.

  “The unofficial answer, I’m afraid,” said the ambassador, “is somewhat different. Unofficially, I have been authorized to inform you—in strictest confidence—that the destruction of the Three Gorges Dam is considered a valid and necessary military option, if hostilities with the People’s Republic of China continue to escalate.”

  President Wainwright rubbed the back of his neck. “I see. Your government is aware that China will almost certainly regard such an attack as a direct strategic assault against their critical national infrastructure? And is your government also aware that such a devastating blow will likely result in nuclear reprisals?”

  “My government has been advised of your concerns,” the Indian Ambassador said. “But we do not agree with your assessment of the PRC’s response. My government does not believe that the Chinese politburo will resort to nuclear retaliation.”