No one realized that it was Christmas Eve.
Sixty-Five
“Captain to the bridge. Captain to the bridge.”
Captain Bisping trotted up the ladder and onto the bridge less than a minute later. “What do you have, Mr. O’Leary?”
“Algonquin reports a Chinese sub coming to periscope depth ten miles off the port bow, sir.”
“Jesus Christ!” Bisping said, stepping to the far window for a look. “Make sure this ship is blacked completely out. How did a sub get so goddamn close without Algonquin hearing it?”
“It’s a Song Class, sir. Diesel-electric.”
“Shit,” Bisping said in disgust.
“Bridge, Radar,” came the voice of the radar operator. “Periscope out of the water ten miles off the port bow. She’s not moving, sir.”
“Duncan, I want a pair of Sea Kings armed and in the air yesterday—and without lights.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Mr. Brooks, find out if Algonquin is disposed to destroy that submarine. I can’t see her in this ink.”
“Sir, Algonquin advises she has loaded war-shot into her tubes, but she’s not at optimum angle for launch. She’s asking if you want her to come about.”
“Negative!” Bisping said. “I don’t want anybody doing anything to tip them off. Algonquin isn’t to even flood her tubes.”
“Aye, sir… Algonquin advises she is standing by.”
“We’re a sitting duck,” Bisping muttered. “Be sure that Algonquin advises us the second that sub moves or opens its outer tube doors.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Duncan, quietly spread the word that I want the crew ready to abandon ship,” Bisping ordered.
“Aye, Skipper.”
“We can’t even run the engines up to full power without them hearing us,” Bisping grumbled. He took the phone from the wall and called down to the engine room.
“Chief, it’s the captain. Listen, there’s a Chinese electric resting at periscope depth ten miles off our port bow. She’s got us dead-nuts with both bow anchors on the bottom. We can’t even slip the chains without tipping them off. I want you to do everything you can down there without making any goddamn noise so you’ll be ready to get those engines up and roaring in full reverse the second I give you the word. Understood?”
“I’ll have her ready to pull a hole shot, Captain.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear, Chief.” Bisping hung up the phone and grabbed the one next to it. “Radar, I want to know if that periscope moves even an inch. Understood?… Good.”
He went back to the window, making doubly sure no was smoking down on the flight deck.
“Captain, both Sea Kings report ready for takeoff.”
“Get them into air.”
“Captain! Algonquin reports the submarine is blowing ballast and coming to the surface!… And she’s opening her outer tube doors!”
“Stay those helicopters!” Bisping ordered. “That sub captain so much as hears a rotor blade and he’ll launch.”
Bisping stood trying to figure a way out of the mess. We can kill them, he thought to himself, but not before they’ve killed us.
“Maybe they don’t want to fight,” O’Leary said. “They’ve had plenty of opportunity to fire.”
“After what we did to their destroyers? I find that very hard to believe.”
Ensign Allister Miller cleared his throat. “I don’t think she knows we’re here, sir.”
Bisping turned to him in the red dim. “Explain yourself, Mr. Miller.”
“Well, sir, we’ve been resting quietly at anchor all day,” Miller replied. “Only Algonquin’s had her boilers up to steam, so she’s the one the bastards are likely homing in on. They’re probably hoping she’ll lead them to us in the dark. And they can’t go on active sonar without tipping their hand any more than we can power up or launch our choppers without tipping ours.”
“Which is why they’ve come to the surface,” Bisping said. “To use their eyes and ears. Very good, Mr. Miller. You’re a lieutenant jg now. If we get out of this without losing the ship, I’ll promote you to first.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Duncan, get Commander Reese up here on the double.”
“Aye, sir.”
Reese was the commander of the ten-man SEAL team aboard the Boxer. He was a short, hard-bodied sailor who had been in the Navy since John Paul Jones was a baby, and he was known for getting the job done under very sticky circumstances.
He stepped onto the bridge, announcing: “Commander Reese reporting as ordered, Captain.”
“Mr. Reese, has your team ever rehearsed the taking of a Chinese submarine resting quietly on the surface?”
A grin spread across the commander’s face. “Not exactly, sir. Though similar scenarios have come up in conversation once or twice.”
“So you have some ideas on how such a feat of arms might be accomplished?”
“Oh, I’ve got some very definite ideas, Captain. How close is she?”
“Ten miles at the moment, but I expect that to change as soon as this captain I’m up against begins to grow some balls.”
“If their hatch is open, Captain, I guarantee we’ll take the con. What I cannot guarantee is taking it before they fire their torpedoes.”
“What do you need?”
“We’ve got everything we need in our kit. We can power right out to the boat below the surface on electric motors.”
“This kind of darkness won’t be a problem?”
“For the Chinese, yes. Us, no. All we’ll need from Boxer is a comm link to find out whether the sub is moving. I’ll break the surface every ten minutes to check in on that.”
“How soon can you be in the water?”
“From this moment? Less than twenty.”
“How long to the sub?”
“If she stays right where she is, an hour.”
“Let me know when you’re ready to get wet, Commander.”
“Aye aye, Skipper.”
Bisping noticed the concern on Commander O’Leary’s face. “Something on your mind, Duncan?”
“No, sir.”
“If we’re torpedoed, Duncan. They’re going into the water anyhow, only without their wet suits.”
“Aye, sir.”
Forty minutes later Commander Reese carefully broke the surface of the water in total blackness to check in with the Boxer about the position of the Chinese submarine.
“Be advised, Aqualung, the target has closed to within five miles and is sitting still once again.”
“Clear,” Reese murmured, raising his infrared scope to see that the sub now lay only a couple of hundred yards ahead of them. “I have visual.”
He then slipped silently back beneath the water.
Below the surface, neither Reese nor any of his men were able to see anything that wasn’t lighted or glowing, and with the murk of ash and sediment now spoiling the seas, they weren’t even able to see that beyond ten feet or so.
He wrote a short message on a diving board in fluorescent chalk telling his men that the target now lay only a couple hundred yards ahead of them. He then wrote in a kind of shorthand that they would motor past the sub fifty yards off the port side, then circle around to approach her from the stern.
Sixty-Six
About the same time that Commander Reese and his SEAL team were first getting wet, Forrest and his flock were turning down a side street in the outskirts of Oceanside. They were still running without lights to avoid being spotted as they drew closer to the shore, all of the fighting men wearing NVDs. The snow was only inches deep in Southern California, but the snowcats ran equally well on dry land.