His plan was simplicity itself, the first stage of which had already been initiated. To penetrate the convoy, Lee positioned the Lijiang in the direct path of the oncoming ocean liner. A Russian Akula-and a French Rubis-class submarine were the point vessels. By scramming the Lijiang’s reactor and enveloping the boat in a state of ultra quiet they easily escaped detection. Only when the QE2 was almost right on top of them, did Lee order the reactor back on-line. The roaring noise of the passing ocean liner’s nine engines was clearly audible inside the Lijiang, with this same racket effectively masking any sound that they were soon making.
Now that the fox was safely inside the hen house, it was time to begin whittling down the opposition. Lee was hesitant to explain the strategy that he planned to employ to achieve this end, and he left Guan with a cryptic invitation to join him in the control room at 2130.
His stomach tight with anticipation, Guan passed up dinner for the first time on this patrol. Endless cups of sweet green tea provided his only sustenance, as he tried his hardest to refocus his thoughts on the guerrilla-war tactics of Mao Tsetung.
Now that 2130 was almost upon them, Guan found himself reading one of the Chairman’s verses over an dover again. It had universal application, and could even apply to their current circumstances. It read:
“When the situation is serious, the guerrillas must move with the fluidity of water and the ease of the blowing wind. Their tactics must deceive, tempt, and confuse the enemy. They must lead the enemy to believe that they will attack him from the east and north, and they must then strike him from the west and south, quick to disperse to fight again where the enemy least anticipates.”
At military school, the principles of guerrilla warfare had been continually stressed. Guan had never taken them seriously at the time, and only now realized that this strategic wisdom could be readily applied in today’s modern battlefield. The ancient saying, Sheng Tung, Chi Hsi (Up roar in the East, Strike in the West), appropriately summed up Mao’s teachings in this field, as well as those of Capt. Lee Shao-chi. Anxious now to hear how Lee planned to make good his own deception, Guan arose and took off for the control room.
The Lijiang’s passageways were vacant as he climbed up the amidships stairwell and made his way to One Deck. He continued forward, and needed barely eight steps to reach the hatchway leading to control.
Little was he prepared for the fat white candle that flickered alive on the floor of the periscope pedestal, or the rich scent of sandalwood incense that filled the compartment with an alien sweetness. The rest of the equipment-packed room was dimly lit in red, and Guan gasped upon noting that almost every sailor present was dressed in a similar white martial-arts uniform. This included their captain, who stood behind the candle, his customary red bandanna tied tightly around his forehead.
This hushed assemblage appeared to have been waiting for Guan’s presence, for no sooner did he take his place beside the fully manned firecontrol console, than Lee Shao-chi addressed them.
“Comrades, it’s time to momentarily close our eyes, and unite our spirits in joint purpose. Breathe deeply with me, emptying your lungs completely, before refilling them with the blessed essence of life.
This is the secret of the Way; practice it continuously, and no enemy need ever be feared.
“From our position of power, it’s time to become one with the enemy. We shall strike where least expected, with the fleeting shadow of our presence, our only weapon. Confusion shall ensue, causing them to blindly strike out in a rage that has no true center.
“Once we see that they are beaten back, we shall quickly separate and attack yet another strong point on the periphery of his force, like a winding mountain path. This fighting strategy is the key for one against many. Strike down the enemies in one quarter, then grasp the initiative and attack further strong points to the left and right, as if on a winding mountain path. For victory is certain when the enemy is caught up in a rhythm that confuses his spirit.”
Guan had tightly shut his eyes, and surrendered his breath to a deep, even pace. Yet with the captain’s abrupt silence, he couldn’t help but open his eyes to see what was taking place around him.
The flickering flame, a terrifying thing in a submarine, created an eerie setting for an even stronger terror, one that caused goosebumps to form on his flesh. Like a single entity, the compartment’s entire complement appeared to be breathing in unison, their eyes closed, their thoughts united in joint purpose.
Guan almost felt like a traitor for opening his eyes and disrupting the spell, and he found his glance drawn to the periscope pedestal. Here the man who orchestrated this odd underwater ritual suddenly opened his own eyes. Lee’s scarred face displayed an unearthly determination, as he cried out for all to hear.
“Comrades, it’s time to strike down the twin demons of doubt and fear!
Become like a rock, and ten thousand enemies can’t touch you! So open your eyes, and dare climb this winding mountain together, on a warrior’s pilgrimage to save our Republic.
“For the glory of Mother China, all ahead flank speed, on bearing one-two-seven!”
37
The Polk was in the drift phase of their scan, and Brad Bodzin took advantage of the excellent acoustic conditions to closely monitor their current sonar contacts. With the assistance of a pair of bulky headphones, he listened to the familiar growling roar of Sierra One’s powerful diesel engines. The QE2 remained on a northeasterly course, continuing to cut through the gathering swells above at a constant twenty-one knots.
To monitor Sierra Two, Bodzin substantially narrowed the frequency range of his scan. The Akula lay off the QE2’s port bow, easily matching its speed on a similar bearing. Design improvements, such as sophisticated sound insulation, made this Russian warship much more difficult to detect than earlier classes of Soviet submarines that were inherently noisy. It was Jaffers who had originally detected the fault in Sierra Two’s acoustic integrity. It was a constant high-pitched hum that was most likely an unwanted byproduct of a faulty propeller. Especially audible at high speed, the singing prop was readily recognizable, and the senior sonar technician turned his attention to the vessel that comprised the point formation’s southern perimeter.
The Casablanca was the smallest of the escorting submarines. It had been a struggle for the French boat to keep in position, especially when the QE2 was traveling above twenty-eight knots. Now that the Queen had slowed, the Casablanca was holding its own, though Bodzin had little trouble detecting the first signs of strain inside the French warship’s engine room. The throaty, pulsating rush of a defective reactor-coolant pump proved to be Sierra Three’s acoustic weakness, and the pride of the Marine Nationale would need a comprehensive refit to correct this problem.
The one major biological contact that they had to deal with continued singing up a storm in the waters due north of their formation. Bodzin had a great affinity for whales and other marine mammals. They were man’s cousins in the seas, and their resonant, bellowing cries had kept him company during many a boring watch. Regardless of the fact that their boisterous presence could make his job that much more difficult, Bodzin always looked at the presence of whales as a sign of good fortune.
Sierra Four proved to be the only contact that the Folk’s sensors could no longer detect. The Talent’s signature had last been picked up by a towed array sweep. That was over a half hour before, at which time the Royal Navy warship was trailing in the formation’s sound-absorbent baffles. Bodzin was well aware that the Talent was difficult enough to pick up under near ideal acoustic conditions. When masked by the QE2’s roiling wake, she would be almost impossible to find.