A hail of gunfire failed to stop them, and Admiral Wells felt his flagship shudder with the hit. Seconds later, he saw the Birmingham simply explode in ruin.
Fire, death, more blood in the sea, and another ship ravaged and sent to the bottom. Birmingham would die a quick death, consumed by flames, but at over 65,000 tons, Prince of Wales had weathered the blow she took. Damage was moderate, and flight operations would be inhibited, but that didn’t matter at that moment. The carrier would not have planes ready to fly again for a little over an hour, and that hour now meant everything.
The fleet still had Sea Darts in good numbers, but only 19 SAM’s of any other type that might kill a YJ-18. There were still two of the original five frigates alive, and they each had 32 Sea Ceptors that might defend against slower moving missiles. It was a critical situation that saw the fleet on the razor’s edge of oblivion. Wells knew that the only thing saving them for the moment was the fact that their enemy could no longer accurately fix their position… but that could change.
The Admiral shook his head, knowing deep down that the Royal Navy had been beaten here. It took every fighter we had to defend the fleet, he thought. They got over 50 kills on those incoming Sizzlers, and I can only imagine the havoc that would have reigned if those fallen missiles had been out there to come at us. I was lucky here to get off just losing the two frigates that went under. Prince of Wales is wounded, but still alive, yet she can only make 20 knots. We must disengage immediately, but can I find a safe port?
This is going to be a near run thing….
Part V
Rain of Arrows
“Trouble cannot be avoided, you either go looking for it or it will come looking for you.”
Chapter 13
Admiral Sun Wei had called for more air support, and four J-20’s had sucked their drop tanks dry to get out nearly 900 miles. As he had done before, he could use them to find the British ships, but the planes could not linger very long before needing to turn for home. They might also run afoul of unseen enemy fighters, as the first two brave pilots who died hours earlier. This time, no KJ-200 followed the J-20’s, as only one remained at Mombasa, and the Air Force refused to release it for operations.
In spite of his clear victory here, he now had several stark facts before him that would weigh heavily on his mind as he contemplated how to proceed. He was not worried about his SAM defenses, as his destroyers still had over 200 HQ-9B’s available. On offense, his VLS bays still held a little over 100 missiles that could reach the enemy, most being the YJ-100 now, a slow subsonic cruise missile. But he also had 40 more YJ-18’s, the missile he had tormented the British with to gain this victory.
His problem was one that many Generals and Admirals before him had faced—logistics. To make his second sortie, he had used most of the missile inventories that had been stockpiled in East Africa. He had sent a message home to inquire about replacements, but the fact was that China had little in the way of long range military air transport. Only two planes had the necessary range, the Y-9 and the new Y-20 heavy lift plane.
The Y-9 was China’s answer to the American C-130, and could carry a payload a little over 20 tons, but there were only ten built. Cruise missiles are much bigger and heavier than many realized. One YJ-18 missile had a weight of 2300 kilograms, which was 2.3 tons. So you could only put nine or ten such missiles on a single Y-9 transport plane, and it would take every plane China built to airlift enough YJ-18’s to replace those he had fired in this battle.
The new Y-20 heavy cargo lifter could do better, but the Admiral had been told those planes were not available. Only five of these had been built, and only recently delivered. The Air Force was simply not willing to risk them in the long flight over the Arabian Sea, especially since the Americans had basing rights in Oman. This meant that a strategic airlift into Mombasa would not be likely in the near future. He might badger the Air force and shake lose two or three planes, but otherwise, missile replenishment cargos would have to first go by rail through Pakistan to the big port of Karachi, and then by sea to any other destination. If they could make the hazardous journey from Karachi to Djibouti, which was 1575 miles, then they could go by rail again to Mombasa. To do any of this would take time, first to get the higher authorities to approve the missile transport operation, and then to conduct it. It was not going to happen.
The more Sun Wei considered this, the more he realized that his fleet was now playing with the hand they had been dealt before the war. While he knew he had one good attack left with his excellent destroyers, once those missiles were fired, he did not know when he would be able to sortie again in any real strength, unless he moved to Aden, where the Red Sea war supplies were stockpiled.
The British were beaten, now fleeing south at 20 knots. Their one attack with Tomahawks and a few higher speed missiles had been easily parried. His fleet was now sitting 900 miles southeast of his East African bases, and he knew that his primary mission was to control and block the sea lanes on either side of Madagascar.
This he had done, and it was clear to him, and most likely clear to the Royal Navy as well, that they could not drive him off. A fleet in being is a powerful deterrent, he thought. And I must not forget the Americans. The last satellite report showed they have a Carrier Strike Group somewhere south of Jakarta. That poses no immediate danger, being 3000 miles away at the moment, but given the strategic situation now, it is my belief that the American Navy will move first to Diego Garcia, and then into the Arabian Sea. In that instance, it is very likely that I will receive orders to move my destroyers north towards the Horn of Africa, where we would link up with our squadrons posted at Djibouti and Aden. Then we face the United States Navy, and I must have missiles for that fight.
So as much as I might wish to crush the British now with the hundred cruise missiles I still have here, this fleet must live to fight another day….
The Admiral turned to his adjutant, his mind made up.
“Order the J-20’s to orbit in place. They may return to their bases when fuel status makes this necessary. Then inform all ship Captains that we are turning for home port. This battle has been won, and we must prepare for action in the days and weeks ahead. I will address the ship’s compliment tomorrow. That is all.”
Admiral Wells had been walking slowly back and forth on the bridge of Prince of Wales, a steady pacing that was not agitated, but reflective, measured. It was then that Captain Kemp came up to report that the last F-35 radar picket had just reported the Chinese fleet had turned.
“Turned? On what heading, Captain?”
“285 degrees northwest, sir.”
He gave the Admiral a searching look, waiting. The fleet had been running south, for Wells had it in his mind to try and reach the French Port Louis on Mauritius. That island was about 450 miles east of Madagascar, and from there he could at least watch the sea lane east of that big island with some authority. But his fleet had no teeth. Missiles would have to be flown in again from Diego Garcia, mostly SAM’s to give this fleet some ability to defend itself.