by James Rosone
A day went by before they sent her a message telling her the mission was a go. On New Year’s Day at precisely 0230 hours, she needed to make sure the system was taken offline. Once that was done, she was to do her best to stay out of harm’s way until the Marines were able to secure the ship.
As she walked into the CIC that morning, Lieutenant Junior Grade Miles smiled warmly. “Trying to get an early start on your shift, Aikman?” he asked.
Lieutenant JG Miles had a crush on Tiffany, and she knew it. She’d been flirting with him constantly the last week once the plan for her to disable the ship’s fire control systems had been hatched, especially since she knew Miles worked the graveyard shift in the CIC. Normally, the CIC would be staffed by a dozen or more folks on a twenty-four-hour basis, but with only twenty percent of the crew present on the ship, it was down to just Lieutenant Miles and two other enlisted personnel during the graveyard shift.
“Chief Yonker asked me to do my calibration during the graveyard shift so it wouldn’t interrupt their operations. For some reason, he figured tonight would be a good night, so here I am,” she said coyly with a wink.
Miles blushed slightly at the attention. “Well, I’ll have to thank the chief in the morning for giving us some company. It can be rather rough in here on the night shift.”
“Doesn’t anyone else come in here?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. She walked toward the computer terminals she needed to work on, just like she had any number of times before.
“Yeah, one of the guys from the mess deck usually brings us some coffee and a snack every couple of hours. I think he does that more because he’s bored than trying to keep us awake. We sometimes listen to the local radio station or catch an episode of The Daily Show,” Miles replied.
“Oh, The Daily Show,” she said with a smile. “I love that show. Hey, if it’s on, can you tune the TV to it while I work on doing my checks?” she asked, hoping to distract him while she disabled the fire control systems.
“Yeah. LT, turn it on for us,” one of the enlisted guys responded. “There isn’t anything going on. CFB Esquimalt would let us know if something was amiss.”
Smiling, Miles stood up and walked over to the one TV monitor that would typically have ship announcements or AFN on. He fiddled with it for a second before he found the channel with the late-night shows on it. While he was doing that, Tiffany moved behind one of the control panels to begin running her system checks. She unscrewed the back of the panel to get to the circuit boards.
Poking her head around the panel with a penlight clenched between her teeth, she announced, “I have to turn the fire control system off for just a moment to run this circuit board through a quick systems check. OK?”
“No worries, Aikman. I just told the Esquimalt we’re going offline for a systems check for the next ten minutes,” said one of the petty officers. Then, looking to the LT for support, he said, “You do need to make sure you’re done by then, though.”
Still looking at the late-night show, Miles asked, “Do you think you’ll be done in ten minutes, or will you need more time?”
Looking down at her watch, she saw it was only three minutes until showtime. She smiled as she responded, “No, that should be fine, LT. I should probably be done in a few minutes.”
The guys then turned their attention to the TV. With the defensive systems now down, it was just a matter of waiting for the cavalry to arrive and rescue her from this madness.
*******
Bridge of the Nimitz
The duty officer was standing watch with two other enlisted sailors, doing his best to stay awake. Being anchored off the shore with a minimal crew, the sailors were both tired from the long hours and extremely bored from not doing anything.
“We need some fresh coffee,” grumbled one of the petty officers as he rubbed his eyes. He reached over and grabbed the ship’s internal phone and dialed some numbers. “Galley, Bridge. Can we get some coffee and sandwiches brought up here?” he asked.
There was a short pause, and then he announced, “Coffee and sandwiches in ten mikes, guys!” with a smile and thumbs-up.
Just as they were finally starting to perk up, the darkness of the night was broken by a series of bright flashes and thunderous explosions coming from the rear of the ship and then near the front of the launch deck.
“Holy hell! What was that?” shouted the duty officer as he ran to the port side of the ship to get a better look at what was happening.
Pointing at the flames from the vicinity of the two catapults near the front of the ship, one of the petty officers yelled, “I think that was our CIWS blowing up!”
“Sound general quarters. We’re under attack!” the duty officer shouted. He speedily donned his flak vest and helmet. The sailors immediately ran through their various checks just like any other drill; only this time, it wasn’t a test.
The sound of semiautomatic and automatic gunfire broke the silence of the night, intermixed with excited shouts for help and cries of alarm.
*******
USS Nimitz
Combat Information Center
Just as Aikman was about to freak out that things had gone awry and she’d have to turn the fire control systems back on, she heard a thunderous explosion through the metal skin of the ship.
“What the hell was that?” LT Miles asked.
Before anyone could say anything, the general quarters Klaxon sounded, letting them know they were under attack.
One of the petty officers shouted at Tiffany, “We need the system turned back on now!”
“Aw, crap! Hang on, I have to stop the diagnostic and get the circuit board reattached,” she shouted.
One of the petty officers opened the outer door to try and see what was going on. Another used one of their exterior cameras to survey the scene. “Oh my God! Someone blew up our CIWS guns near the front of the ship!” he shouted.
The lieutenant and the other petty officer raced to catch a glimpse of the scene while Tiffany continued to fiddle with the system. When they had their backs turned to her, she stopped what she was doing and made a dash for the other door that led out of the CIC.
She had just closed the door when she briefly heard one of the guys yell out, “Stop!”
In that instant, she knew she needed to get away as hastily as possible. She ran to the next ladder well and did her best to slide down it at a rapid clip. When she hit the bottom, she turned and repeated the process down another level. Then she ran at a breakneck pace down the hallway to put as much distance between her and anyone trying to follow her as possible.
As she sprinted, Tiffany saw one of the men’s bathrooms coming up. She opened the door and dashed inside. Luckily it was empty, and she rushed over to the stalls. She found one at the end and snuck in. Then she locked the door and lifted her feet up, so if anyone looked at the floor, they wouldn’t see her feet. She said a little prayer that her disappearing act would work until the Marines landed and seized the ship.
*******
500 Feet from the Nimitz
The CH-53E Super Stallion banked hard to the left as a string of tracer rounds flew where it had just been. The left side gunner fired a burst of fifty-caliber rounds right back at the attackers, trying to silence them while the pilot deftly maneuvered them in for a fast and hard landing on the carrier deck.
“Here we come!” shouted one of the crew chiefs. The Marines in the back of the bay readied themselves to get out of the chopper.
Ding, ding, ding.
Rounds hit the helicopter as the pilot pulled up on the stick, bleeding off the last remnants of their speed before slamming her down hard on the deck of the carrier. Within a fraction of a second of touching down, the Marines piled out of the helicopter with their rifles raised, looking for targets to engage.
Sergeant Strawman yelled, “Take that machine gun out!” Then he directed his fire to an enemy soldier who had appeared out of nowhere up on the control tower’s flying bridge, holding a light machin
e gun. The enemy gunner was shooting into one of the helicopters as it tried to gain more altitude and move off the flight deck to make room for another to land.
The Super Stallion had gotten about ten feet off the ground and was moving to the side of the flight deck when one of its engines suddenly blew out flames and then began to smoke profusely. The helicopter slid sideways as the enemy machine gunner proceeded to walk his bullets from the engine compartment in the top of the aircraft to the crew compartment. A few seconds later, the helicopter tipped all the way over to the side and crashed into the water, right next to the carrier.
Several of the other Marines lit the enemy soldier’s position up with their own rifles, until one of the H-1 Super Cobras swooped in and raked several decks of the control tower with its 20mm machine gun. Its brass casings fell on the Marines below as they sprinted to the doors that would allow them access to the control tower and the rest of the ship.
Sergeant Strawman rushed up to the door at the base of the control tower with his squad. They stacked up against the wall as one of the Marines readied a flashbang. Strawman nodded, and the Marine pulled the pin while one of his squadmates pulled the door open just enough for him to throw it in.
Several bullets slammed into the door just as they closed it, presumably from soldiers waiting on the other side. When they heard the flashbang explode, one of the Marines pulled the door open, and the first man jumped inside, his rifle at the ready. That first Marine was instantly hit by a barrage of bullets from the waiting attackers. His body fell backward into the second man right behind him. His friend bounced his falling body off him to his right and fired a quick burst at the hostile who had just killed his friend. The enemy soldier clutched at his chest as he fell.
The Marines advanced rapidly into the room. As soon as that first room was cleared, the Marines filtered into the rest of the control tower. They fanned out and made their way to the upper decks as well as down below decks, where the real fight would begin. As more enemy soldiers sought to fight the Marines in the tight confines of the corridors of the carrier, the Marines alternated between using flashbangs and riot grenades. They wanted to avoid using fragmentation grenades as they’d cause a lot more internal damage to the ship.
*******
Lieutenant Grace Harper was the Combat Information Center Officer, or CICO, for Carrier Early Warning Squadron 116, the “Sun Kings.” Her comrades often pronounced her job title as “sicko,” which seemed kind of appropriate since it was her job to manage the air battle of the flight group. Of course, her supervisor, Commander Grady, the Aircraft Control Officer, made sure she knew what she was doing. For Harper, this was only her second time being the sicko for a major operation. During their last deployment to the Arabian Gulf, Commander Grady had eased her into the sicko role as he sought to get her properly trained up to take his place one day as the lead officer in the back of “the bus,” as they commonly referred to their E-2D Hawkeye.
“Remember to stay sharp, Harper,” Commander Grady instructed. “When those helicopters move in on the Nimitz, you can bet the Canadian base and those Chinese ships may get involved. We’ve also got those Chinese fighters over in sector eight you’ll need to watch.” He sat in a nearby chair, staying close to her in case things really went to crap on this mission.
Harper nodded. “Thank you, sir. I’ve got this, though.”
Smiling, Grady turned back to look at his own radar screen.
“The Marines are going in now,” she commented. They watched as the first wave of Super Stallions swooped in on the carrier. Two pairs of Super Cobra attack helicopters were escorting them.
A few minutes went by as the attack got underway. Then she spotted some activity emanating from the Canadian naval base. A pair of ships started heading towards the carrier. She immediately hit the radio preset button that was set up to allow her to communicate with the gunships to warn them.
“Sun King to Viper Leader. You have two inbound Canadian gunboats. You are cleared to disable the boats and destroy them if necessary,” she said in her cool, calm voice as she had been taught many times before.
“Viper Leader to Sun King. That’s a good copy. We’re moving to interdict the hostiles now,” came the reply from the helicopter flight leader.
While she was talking, she saw that the two Chinese naval ships in the area had turned to head towards the Nimitz and appeared to be moving at an increased speed.
Seconds later, the two blips that represented the Canadian patrol boats disappeared. She was about to call the viper flight to find out what had happened when they radioed back, telling her that the gunboats had fired on them, so they had taken them out.
Before she could reply, the Chinese ships turned on their targeting radar and had a lock on the Marine helicopters. Moments later, several surface-to-air missiles were fired from both Chinese vessels at the group of Marine gunships and the transport ships ferrying the second wave of Marines to the carrier.
“Oh, it’s on now!” called out Commander Grady. He hastily made contact with the F/A-18s that were loitering not far away, armed with a series of Harpoon anti-ship missiles in case this very scenario played out. Grady ordered them to engage the Chinese warships.
While he was busy handling the Hornets’ attack run, Harper noticed that the two Chinese J-11s had turned towards the Super Hornets and fired off a series of their own missiles at the American planes.
Harper made contact with the Growlers on station. “Sun King to Cougar Six, start jamming the J-11s and the Chinese ships with your electronics package.”
“Cougar Six to Sun King, that’s a good copy,” they called back.
Next, she called out to their F-35 squadron on standby in case the Hornets needed some air cover.
In the span of thirty seconds, all hell broke loose in the skies along the border between the US and Canada. The F-35s ghosted in undetected and took out the Chinese fighters before they even knew what had happened to them. The Hornets hit the Chinese warships with multiple Harpoons, though the Chinese anti-missile systems did manage to shoot down half of the Harpoons fired at them.
“I’m seeing a flight of Canadian fighters taking off from CFB Comox,” Harper called out to Commander Grady.
“Got it. I’m going to try and hail them directly and advise them to stay away from this area. What’s happening with the Hornets? Did they make it?”
Harper had almost forgotten about the missiles that had been fired at the Hornets. She saw several enemy missiles still streaking towards them. The F/A-18s were dispensing flares and other countermeasures as they sought to get away from the incoming threats. Just as she thought they were going to get away, one of the aircraft appeared to have been hit. The pilot sent out a quick mayday, telling them he was going to bail out. The other three Hornets appeared to have escaped with the help from the Growlers and their own electronic countermeasure pods.
“It looks like one is down. We need to get a SAR unit to fetch him,” Harper called out. “Um…it looks like the second wave of Marine helicopters are landing. Oh, wait—it looks like one of them must have been hit by that volley of SAMs the Chinese frigates had fired at them. The third wave of Marines is turning around to head back to US territory.”
“I’ve got a SAR unit dispatched to get our downed pilot,” Commander Grady announced. “I just spoke with the commander of VFA-154 at Whidbey Station. He said he’s scrambling the rest of his squadron armed with Harpoons to go finish those Chinese warships off.”
“Oh crap! That Chinese ship, the Wuhan, is firing another batch of SA-N-12 surface-to-air missiles at our helicopters,” Harper practically shouted in panic. Those were the same missiles that had already shot down two of the Super Cobras and one of the Super Stallions.
“Sun King Actual to Cougar Six. We have inbound SAMs from the Wuhan heading to attack our helicopters. You need to jam those missiles, or our Marines are going to get smoked!” barked Commander Grady angrily. The Growlers were supposed to be suppressing
their targeting radars so they couldn’t attack the air assault teams—clearly that hadn’t happened.
Lieutenant Harper watched one of the Cougar elements, which must have lit his afterburners so he could swoop down to get right behind the enemy missiles. The aircraft did its best to get as close as possible to the enemy missiles and try to blind them with its electronic trickery before they could hit another four helicopters of the assault force. The other two Cougar aircraft began to fly in a tighter circular pattern around the two damaged Chinese warships so the strength of their jammers would be more effective.
It took only a couple of minutes for the Chinese missiles to close the distance on the helicopters. The choppers fired off some flares in hopes that the missiles would get confused and go after the distractions instead. The Growler that had swooped in behind them also did his best to jam the specific radar frequencies the missiles operated on.
Harper crossed her fingers, hoping the Growler could help to blind them before they hit their targets. As she watched her screen intently, three of the missiles sailed right over the helicopters, missing them entirely. The final missile hit one of the flares and exploded behind the helicopters.
Harper breathed a sigh of relief. “Splash all four SAMs. Our helicopters made it,” she said over the crew net.
“Knights Actual to Sun King Actual. I’ve got six angry Hornets. Are we still cleared hot to sink these Chinese warships?” asked the commander in charge of the attack squadron.
Commander Grady jumped on the net before Lieutenant Harper had a chance to say anything. “Yes. You are cleared hot to sink ’em. They just fired another volley of four SAMs at our helicopters. We need that threat neutralized yesterday!” he practically barked over the radio.