Shen leaned in next to the ear of the shao wei, equivalent to an ensign in foreign navies, so that only the young man could hear him. “Shao Wei, I want whispered commands now… I will not remind you again.”
With wide eyes the mortified Conning Officer whispered back, “Yes, sir, comrade captain.”
Shen nodded and turned to the depth meter, his thoughts on the potential action. This crew is green and this boat is old. How can we get a solution if this contact is American?
Sonar had picked up the heavy screw transients twenty minutes ago, and the geometry was in his favor. The sounds of “white” traffic were all about, and were classified as merchants and fishermen. The sonar transients on his nose were military, contacts he hoped were American. He would take a look.
The chart display showed the contact 20 miles northwest of Mavudis Island, and the line of bearing indicated it was tracking northeast. Shen figured, if it was the Americans, they would stay 12 miles off the uninhabited Philippine rock… they always followed rules… and further sweeten his intercept. This is going to work, he thought, and noted the time. It was sunset, and the bearing was 34 degrees to his right. Perfect!
As he slowed to three knots and stabilized at periscope depth, Shen remained patient. An alert lookout could see a feather ahead in this light, as could radar in calm seas. He would look for five seconds and lower the scope, his human eye and the boat’s ESM sensors gathering all the situational awareness they could.
“Up scope.”
As the periscope column rose, Shen dropped the handles and crouched to place his eyes in the viewer. He allowed the scope to pull him upright, and as the image came into focus, he muttered, “Yes!” Pink light reflected off the gray hull of an American carrier, bow-on, and tracking ten left. It was big and flat and had the distinctive tower to starboard. He did not note any aircraft flying around it.
“Mark—American Nimitz class,” Shen said and then shifted the scope to align the crosshairs on the escorting destroyer. “Mark — American Burke class.”
Shen moved in a steady left pivot as he scanned the sea around Changzheng 8, stopping here and there to identify surface traffic “Mark—auto carrier, Mark—LNG tanker.” Crewmen recorded the bearings and contact IDs, and Shen’s last mark was another Burke class DDG to the north of the carrier, this one with the twinkling lights of a helicopter nearby. Dammit!
“Down scope. Helm, left standard rudder, new course one-nine-zero.” Shen’s plan was to close and allow the Americans to thunder past, then turn and follow in their baffles. The DDG to the north, however, with its cursed helicopter, was his biggest problem.
“Make your depth 200 meters,” Shen commanded, and the watch standers repeated his command as all felt the deck tilt. Shen’s luck had held so far, and if he could get under the layer before detection, they could track the Americans in the vast Philippine Sea for hours, even days.
Now confident of the screw transients, he assessed the situation. His orders were to shadow, and by letting them pass in front, he could turn east to follow in their wake. At this speed the intercept would take an hour, and sonar could track them, and once on their quarter, he would increase revolutions to stay with them.
He had to be careful, though, as he crept south, due to the listening devices reported on the bottom. Other PLA(N) boat captains had surprised the Americans in the near seas, but he had not, had not even seen an American carrier through the periscope. And following it into the far seas…? Unprecedented. Shen had to keep his wits about him as his excited crew went about their duties with smug smiles, betraying their exuberance and youth.
The loud whoooop shocked everyone, and before their heart rates could even increase, another sounded through the hull. Active sonar!
“Comrade Captain, active sonar bearing zero-two-zero. Close range!”
Shen wanted to explode, cursing his bad luck but cursing himself more. He had stayed on the periscope too long, and the American helicopter had pounced. Dammit! How he wanted to go back and take that look again — in half the time and twice the speed.
Active pings continued to sweep past Changzheng 8, and Shen knew the Yankees had him. Dammit! Sailors on the dive plane controls, as well as his Conning Officer, took glances at him, waiting for orders. Seconds seemed like minutes as he himself tried to formulate a new plan. He had to do something.
“Right standard rudder, make revolutions for 10 knots, steady depth!”
Shen was signaling to the Americans that he knew they had him—Dammit! — and he was turning away and making noise. The hated helicopter would prosecute him for the next hour, fraying crew nerves and wounding his pride as their carrier escaped into the open. He left his tubes alone — nothing to shoot — and now wanted to be as inconspicuous and unthreatening as possible. The carrier would slip through the PLA(N)’s fingers, his fingers, and Shen hoped he would get another chance at the Americans as he tried to come up with wording for a report to Southern Fleet command.
Dammit!
CHAPTER 8
While many Americans were watching football on the clear November Sunday afternoon, CAG Wilson was “bouncing” with his fellow Air Wing Fifteen pilots.
Wilson was in the pattern circling Runway 31 at Naval Air Station Lemoore with four other Super Hornets. The pilots flying the Rhinos had their wheels down and maintained an optimum landing airspeed as they flew a racetrack pattern resembling the “day” pattern they would fly at the carrier — in two more days. After completing this warm-up of practice approach after practice approach they could log day/night landings on Hancock off SoCal to become “current” and ready for any tasking as the carrier headed west into the unknown.
On downwind Wilson thought of the preparations for deployment and, by the sound of news reports and classified briefings, for potential war with China. The Chinese had deliberately attacked Cape Esperance with a nerve agent leaving hundreds dead. An ensign deep in the bowels of the ship and a few dozen crew had survived. Incredible. “Remember the Cape Esperance” was already coined in the lexicon as TV talking heads fanned the flames of war.
In the distance Wilson could make out the dim outline of his neighborhood through the haze. From the house Mary and the kids could hear him and the others as they roared around the pattern over and over until the LSOs were satisfied. Even Wilson was evaluated by the lieutenants, and he worked hard to fly a precise pattern.
After this rock-bottom routine flying was complete, he full-stopped and, after a short taxi, shut the jet down on the flight line. He then went to his office where his staff was busy packing up files and electronic equipment to be shipped via truck to the carrier. On the TV screen, the Secretary of Defense was again briefing reporters.
We have lodged a protest — a demand, frankly — with the People’s Republic to free our sailors in Hong Kong that are being held on baseless charges — and that after China invited our ships to their port for a visit. The fact that USS John Adams is at sea in the Pacific does not change the fact that, with half her crew off the ship, China has effectively negated the combat power of our ship and significantly altered the balance of power in the region by their illegal actions. Attacking our cruiser and holding our sailors are clear acts of war, and while our government seeks a diplomatic solution to this incident, our forces are on high alert, and we are deploying the USS Hancock strike group in days to not only confront Chinese aggression but to defend and reassure friends in the region.