“Can you sink an American warship?” Dong asked him.
Qin answered without hesitation. “Yes, Comrade Marshal.”
“Will America give up this fight if they lose a warship?”
“If they lose a big one, I believe they will.” Qin was taking a gamble.
“Then sink a big ship, Admiral. Because of the nature of this battle, the Party would do well to entrust its conduct to a commander familiar with the sea and with the enemy’s capabilities on it. You are now the Commander of the People’s Forces facing the United States and its allies out to the second island chain, to include conventional rocket force strikes against Guam, but not Japan. You are authorized to strike enemy and allied merchant shipping in our territorial seas, and to hit American naval forces in an aggressive manner where you find them. Once we complete this call, I will inform Air Force and Rocket Force commanders that — effective immediately — they are to support your assignments. Sink a big ship, Comrade Admiral, and restore harmony to our near seas.”
Qin’s eyes widened as the import of Dong’s words sunk in. The People’s Forces. All of them.
“Marshal Dong, please convey to the Chairman that the People’s Forces will not fail in this task.”
“May you succeed through harmony and plentiful good luck, Commander.”
CHAPTER 41
Both Beijing and Washington sensed a break in the fighting, and both scrambled to position their forces; offensive thrust for the Americans and siege defense for the PRC. Qin and his staff flew to Zhanjiang to better grasp the battle rhythm, and, from Hawaii, Admiral Clark gave guidance to McGill and his commanders. Without satellite comms and reconnaissance, both sides were feeling their way, and semaphore, Morse code, radio teletype, signal flags, and landlines were now accepted methods of communication. Line-of-sight radio and data link still existed, but it was as if each force was searching in the same dark room with a flashlight, unable to see the other’s beam.
Almost all of Asia and most of the developed world paid attention to developments in the Western Pacific. Japan and South Korea were most vulnerable to SCS trade disruption, but two could play at this game; China’s oil tanker “road” in the Indian Ocean was at risk to American attack. “Neutral” Liberian, Panamanian, and Marshall Islands-flagged ships still plied the Strait of Malacca, but the Chinese knew who owned these flag-of-convenience vessels. Ships piled up off the Singapore bottleneck. Some owners were unwilling to send them north into the SCS, but others, with prices of all commodities now climbing at an alarming rate, sent them with claims of neutrality and hedged their bets with routes along the Palawan Passage. Surely China would not escalate and restrict the very free trade on which they had built their economy.
With store shelves already stocked, holiday shoppers in the West did not feel the economic pinch from curtailed Pacific trade, despite the steady price creep of computer components, LCD screens, and finished plastic products of every type. Hundreds of thousands of Chinese and American citizens continued to live, work, and learn in each other’s nation as their governments waged war in the Western Pacific, a war both countries expected would be fought with gray ships and airplanes.
On another front, a war of words was waged on diplomatic and media battlefields, with daily condemnation of American belligerence by networks worldwide and daily questioning of American resolve, capability, and even moral rights by many outlets. This front wore on high-ranking military officers like Clark, who had to defend wild allegations and unfounded rumor, but not on those tasked to fight, like the sailors, Marines, and pilots on Hancock.
As the carrier ploughed south, Qin wasted no time. After midnight, a Type 055 Renhai cruiser, north of Scarborough Shoal, set upon Asia Emerald, a Marshallese-flagged LNG tanker bound for Seoul. In a shot that served as weapons test, crew training, and diplomatic messaging, the destroyer fired a YJ-18 at the 950-foot vessel from ten miles away. The missile was still accelerating past Mach 3 when it struck the ship broadside above the waterline at the fourth of five giant LNG tanks.
At the instant the tank was breached, liquid at -260 degrees F came in contact with the atmosphere and turned into gas. The cataclysmic explosion lifted Asia Emerald into the air and broke her amidships. The explosion holed the adjacent third and fifth tanks; Tank 5 exploded in similar fashion and killed all aboard. Night became day as GoPro and IR cameras on the cruiser and nearby fishing militia vessels recorded the scene. Massive flames billowed from the third tank as natural gas formed a growing sea of flame that extended hundreds of yards around Asia Emerald. The tanker’s stern section disappeared after the initial blasts, but the bow remained afloat for 20 minutes and burned like a blowtorch before cooking off Tank 2 in another massive fireball. The glow illuminated the sky and created a bluish dome that was observed by witnesses on Luzon, Taiwan, and even Guangzhou. Eighty miles north of Yawu Cay, Chinese commandos on a Coast Guard corvette boarded a 750-foot Liberian LNG carrier bound for Japan and captured it, steering it to Banyon Island where Chinese mariners would relieve them for the final journey to Hong Kong.
As dawn approached, a submerged Yuan-class diesel boat identified its quarry as a Liberian-flagged car carrier heading south to Singapore and bound for Melbourne. The Chinese submarine put two torpedoes into the 60,000-ton ship’s port quarter, knocking out steering and propulsion. The ship soon developed a heavy port list, and the 22-man crew abandoned ship in one lifeboat. As the sun rose over the South China Sea, the MV Regulus Leader rolled on her left side before she lifted her nose into the air, taking 5,500 factory fresh automobiles to their final delivery destination. The video images beamed around the world were breathtaking, and the underlying message was unmistakable: We can cause great pain and are willing to do so.
INDOPACOM was losing the media war, and Clark knew it.
As dawn broke to a blazing red sky, aircraft from Iwo Jima arrived aboard Hancock, still running hard to the south. Ospreys and MH-60s arrived with their cabins full of sailors, but there was no rest for them as they went straight to their work centers. They had to help prep Hanna’s aircraft for combat — today.
An hour earlier, six jets — including two Growlers—had been catapulted off the darkened bow, loaded with Mavericks, rockets, and laser-guided bombs. Two Romeos with torpedoes and two Sierras carrying Hellfire and rockets had also launched, and all ten aircraft had fanned out ahead of Hancock to scout what was in front of them on their track. Farallon and Maug, two islands in the Northern Marianas chain, were of particular interest. One E-2 was also airborne, call sign Lookout.
Weed and his wingman Killer, flying Super Hornets from the VFA-156 Sharks, had responsibility for this sector. They joined overhead the ship in silence and climbed high toward the glow to the southeast. After forty minutes, they came upon Farallon and searched around the volcanic cone for any vessels. There were none.
As the sun rose, they cruised toward uninhabited Maug Island, which was the remaining rim of a sunken volcano. En route they saw three fishing vessels. Identifying them would be a challenge.
The EA-18G, call sign Montana, would help. Via data link they sent targeting info to Weed’s flight. The three vessels were ahead of their flight path and spread out over a few miles. At a safe distance, Weed took images of each with his targeting FLIR and sent them to Lookout who then forwarded them to the ship. Weed and Killer kept their knots up as they studied the fishing boats which appeared to be innocent. Out here, one could never be sure.