“Yes, sir,” O’Leary said with a smile. “I’ll be sure to point that out to them.”
“Please do.”
When O’Leary was gone, Bisping sat down on his bunk and took a Bible from beneath his pillow. It contained the only photos he had of his wife and three children, the only photos he would ever have. He touched his wife’s face and sat looking at her.
The temptation to jump ship and head off across the country on his own to look for them had been difficult enough to suppress the first time. Now, with the change of orders, he would be forced to endure the temptation for another indefinite period. He would, of course, never actually abandon his ship or his crew, but it was an agonizing temptation nonetheless. He told himself that Atlanta was too far to travel anyhow; he told himself that his family was long dead; and most important, he told himself it was better not to know exactly what had happened to them.
Chief Petty Officer Gordon, the senior aircraft mechanic, reported as instructed, informing Bisping that the particulate matter in the air was thin enough that it didn’t seem to have affected the turbines of the helicopters.
“Good,” Bisping said. “The precipitation must have brought a lot of it down. We’re heading back to Cali, Chief. So make sure that all of our aircraft can be ready on a moment’s notice.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Bisping announced the change of orders to his crew over the MC then laid down for a short nap. He had not been napping more than twenty minutes when the ship’s claxons began to sound.
“Captain to the bridge. Captain to the bridge.”
Bisping took the phone from the wall, getting O’Leary immediately. “What is it?”
“A pair of Lanzhou Class destroyers, Captain, steaming right at us out of the north at twenty-five knots, distance thirty-two hundred meters beyond visual range. There wasn’t anything on the scope until just now, sir. They’re coming out of a squall.”
“Turn into them!” Bisping ordered. “Scramble the F-35s and advise Algonquin that they are to take whatever action necessary to sink both vessels. I’m on my way up.”
Bisping couldn’t imagine what a pair of Chinese destroyers was doing in American waters, but twenty-five knots was very near their top speed, and both vessels carried the Hai Ying antiship missile, lethal within a range of well over a hundred miles. Boxer and Algonquin would be engaging them at less than twenty.
By the time Bisping reached the bridge, the Algonquin had already been struck once and there was a fire on his own ship’s flight deck, where a firefighting team was already in action.
“What the hell happened?”
“ The fuckers launched a full spread the second you hung up the phone, sir.”
O’Leary was watching the northern horizon through a pair of large binoculars. “Our phalanxes knocked two missiles down but we each took a hit. Algonquin took one to her bow cannon and we lost a chopper on the deck.” A phalanx was a radar-equipped weapon system based on the M-61 Vulcan Gatling gun, capable of firing its 20mm cannon at a rate of 4,500 rounds per minute, roughly seventy-five rounds per second. They were the ship’s last line of defense, and the Boxer had four of them, two mounted on the stern, one to starboard, and one to port. The Algonquin carried one on the foredeck.
“How many missiles did Algonquin get off?”
“Two, sir. I don’t see any smoke on the horizon yet but there are no more missiles inbound at this time.”
The flight officer was requesting permission to launch both of the F-35 Lightning fighters, and permission was given. As vertical/short takeoff and landing aircraft, the F-35s could take off regardless of the burning helicopter on deck.
“I don’t want any more goddamn missiles hitting my ship. Is that clear, Mr. Ryder?”
“Aye, sir!” answered the weapons officer, knowing he would be getting his ass chewed later on.
“Mr. Brooks, what’s happening aboard Algonquin? Did their missiles hit or not?”
Brooks was on the phone to their escort within seconds.
“Algonquin believes they scored a hit on each vessel, sir, and they’re about to launch another pair. There was a problem with their weapon system, but they’ve got it back up.”
A second pair of SM-2 antiship missiles were fired from the Algonquin’s deck and went streaking toward the horizon just fifty feet off the surface.
“Four more Chinese missiles inbound!” Ryder announced.
This time four Sea Sparrow antiaircraft missiles were launched from the Boxer to intercept them. Seconds later Bisping saw three explosions just off the water some 1,600 meters out.
“One got through,” Ryder announced. “Port and starboard phalanxes have a lock!”
Each phalanx fired a single two-second burst and the missile was destroyed a thousand yards out.
By then both fighter jets were closing on the Chinese destroyers, reporting that both vessels were hit and smoking. It was unclear whether they were still capable of launching missiles, but the ships were still steaming south at better than twenty knots.
Bisping took the mike from the comm officer. “Ghost Rider, this is the captain. Your orders are to sink them. Is that clear?”
“That’s affirmative, Boxer. We are beginning our attack run now…”
Both F-35s carried a pair of joint-strike missiles designed for holing enemy ships at or near the waterline. One fighter broke to the east, the other west, as they dropped to a mere two hundred feet off the water, cutting sharply back toward the Chinese destroyers to attack them full abeam. At one mile, both launched their missiles, then broke hard to the right and climbed, hitting full afterburners and firing countermeasure flares in case the Chinese tried to shoot them down. But the Chinese antiaircraft systems had been knocked out as a result of previous missile strikes.
All four antiship missiles struck home, hitting the vessels at the waterline, and soon both ships began to list, quickly going dead in the water. The F-35s made a number of strafing runs with their 25mm cannons, then returned to the Boxer. One sailor aboard the Algonquin had been lost to the missile strike, and the Boxer had lost two helicopter pilots.
“Mr. Brooks!” Bisping said.
“Yes, sir?”
“Get a message off to Pearl. Message is to read: ‘Attacked by two Chinese Lanzhou destroyers six miles out of San Diego. Sank same.’”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Let me know if they change our orders. I’m going down to the flight deck to see about our men.”
Sixty-Three
The women were gathered once again in the cafeteria, and Forrest stood before them with his usual smile. “Ladies,” he said happily. “How are we this evening?”
A quick glance told him that Lynette was not in attendance; she had been avoiding him like the plague since their last exchange.
“Fine,” many of them answered, having no idea why the hell they were being called together again so soon, and most of them dreading it.
“Do we have to eat scorpions this time?” Erin asked with a dry smile.
“Only you, E. The rest of us get caviar.”
There was some laughter and then everyone quieted down.
“As of last night, we have a brand new plan,” Forrest announced. “And you will all be happy to know that it does not involve any scorpions, mice, or any other kinds of creepy crawlies. What it does involve, though, is a great deal of risk. As you all know, Melissa has been working very hard to decipher the encrypted transmissions we have been picking up for a long time now. And I am happy and very proud to report that her diligence has finally paid off.”