“Comrade Admiral Qin, Marshal Dong is calling for you,” his orderly informed him.
Qin moved to his desk and picked up the receiver to his secure phone. “Please stand by, Comrade Admiral,” Dong’s assistant said. Seconds later, Qin heard Dong’s familiar voice.
“Comrade Admiral Qin, I bring you greetings. I trust you and the People’s Liberation Army Navy are well.”
“Greetings, Comrade Marshal Dong. The People’s Navy is at peak readiness and strength in the service of the People’s Republic.”
“I know this to be true…. Qin, the Americans are moving forces to our near seas en masse, and their politicians are stoking the fires of war.”
“We are ready, Comrade Marshal.”
“The Chairman himself has communicated with their President who demands our forces stand down and return to base and insists we remove our military capability from our possessions in the Southern Sea.”
“Never, Comrade Marshal.”
“What do you know of their force dispositions?”
Qin glanced at his chart and took a breath.
“The carrier that was in Hong Kong is now in Guam, but because we hold half its crew, we do not think it to be mission ready. They are moving another carrier from the Persian Gulf toward Malacca, and that will take them a week. Two carriers from their installation in California left port, but one, Sam Nunn, returned. The other, Hancock, is someplace in the Pacific.”
“Can you find it?”
“We are trying, Comrade Marshal, but we are not too concerned now. Even at full power, the ship cannot reach the second island chain for over a week, and we’ll be able to detect and track them once it passes through one of several chokepoints.”
“What about their Air Force?”
“Alaska, Hawaii, Guam, several bases in Japan, the Philippines… all are filling up with bombers and fighters. Our agents have accurate counts, and most of the bombers are in Guam, including eight B-52s, six B-1s and two B-2s. Their main base in Alaska has almost as many.”
Dong considered Qin’s assessment. “Have you ever experienced a B-52 raid?” he asked.
“No, Comrade Marshal.” Qin waited for a story he had heard before.
“My father was in Hanoi at the end of the American War. He soiled his pants from the thunderous bomb concussions all around him. He saw one bomber, on fire the length of its wingspan, fall from the sky. And they came night after night. The hair of one young soldier he met changed from black to white after such a raid. The Vietnamese were ready to capitulate, but Nixon stopped in time.”
“Heroes to our glorious communist legacy, Comrade Marshal. We hope they will one day return to the Chinese fold.”
“Indeed… we cannot allow the Americans to visit such destruction on our people. Survival of the Party is at stake.”
“They will have to get by me, Comrade Marshal.”
“Yes, and the Chairman has authorized help from our rocket forces. We are preparing to take out their satellite constellations, and in two more days, our forces will be ready. I want you, Comrade Admiral Qin, to give me a signal when the Americans are most vulnerable, so we can strike with coordination. Once we take down their satellite eyes and ears, you will be given permission to attack their carrier.”
Qin listened to the Marshal’s words. War with the United States was imminent.
“We will blind them first, and not one American heart will be harmed. Without their satellites, we’ll have a fair chance of victory if they escalate. Losing their satellites will be a final warning of the People’s resolve.
“And if they continue… then you, Comrade Admiral, will write the first chapter in the People’s Republic century of dominance.”
CHAPTER 14
“What is it?”
Bai Quon, patience lost, glared at the flustered Hu Sheng. Though only four years older than his wingman, Bai’s dark eyes bore in on Hu as would those of a stern father disciplining a disobedient son. He shook the enemy airplane photograph in front of Hu to get him to respond. Even a guess, at this point, would be progress. As the two pilots passed the time in the flight line alert shack, fifty meters from two loaded and fueled J-11s, Bai ensured the time would be spent training versus lying around reading novels or looking at the empty water across the runway.
“Ah… Super Hornet!”
“No! We’ve been over this! See how the leading edge of the wing blends into the fuselage!”
Hu looked closer at the planform image of the Hornet. Confusion covered his face, and an exasperated Bai was tired of spoon-feeding this excuse of a fighter pilot who was an embarrassment to the PLA(NAF).
“It is long and narrow,” Bai growled, “and juts out in front of the cockpit. The Super Hornet extension is fatter and stops next to the cockpit.”
“I can tell the difference by the intakes, Bai Quon, which are large and rectangular on the Super Hornet. In this image I cannot see the intakes!”
Bai exploded.
“Unless the American — or Australian — is a clueless imbecile, he will be turning into you at the merge to gain angles! He will not ‘show you’ his intakes until he shoots you!”
“Hardly, Bai Quon! Our forward-quarter missiles will have already downed the enemy, and my wingman will maneuver to defend the People’s J-11.” Bai had to laugh at Hu’s outburst.
“Yes! Things will always go perfectly, Hu Sheng! Why even practice for a visual turning fight? Just radio to the Americans on the emergency frequency: ‘Do you know my father is a high Party official?’ At once they will burst into flames, and you can save the People’s missiles!”
Hu, tired of the interrogation and at his limit, breathed through his nose as he stared down his tormentor. He would ask for another flight lead, and, with his connections, expected to get his wish.
“What model of Hornet is this, Comrade Hu?”
Hu glanced at the image again. He saw it had two seats.
“F-18B,” he said.
Bai smiled and shook his head. Hopeless, he thought.
“Look AGAIN! What markings do you see?”
“What’s the difference? They’re American!”
“The difference, Comrade Hu, is that the Americans do not fly the ‘B-variant’ on their front-line units. Their naval infantry and the traitorous Malaysians fly the F-18 Delta. Where are the American naval infantry bases that fly the F-18D?”
“Okinawa and Iwakuni, Japan.” Hu muttered.
“A correct answer! Let me celebrate by ending this wasted training session, but not before I tell you that if you do not increase your knowledge of the threat air forces that surround us here in the Southern Sea, you will—”
The loud klaxon startled them both, and they jumped toward their parachute harnesses hung on pegs by the door. Through the windows they saw linesmen running to the jets, and Bai assessed the weather conditions and winds. We’ll be taking off to the south, he thought. The high, scattered clouds and noonday sun indicated that weather would be no factor. In terse language, he briefed Hu as they struggled with their harnesses.