“Attacking!” was the next message, the young man’s voice not disguising the underlying excitement.
Five miles beyond them was forging in the corvette Premier-Maitre L'her, the second corvette still another ten miles further off.
The patrol boat made a magnificent sight, turning in and racing towards the surfaced Kilo at 25 knots, a great white bow wave standing out in the darkness. She had two automatic cannon, a 40mm and a 20mm, along with two 12.7mm machine guns, all were firing, and throwing out arcing lines of tracer, but speed and accuracy are not the same thing.
Crashing through waves, La Capricieuse opened fire at eight hundred metres, the gunners aim being thrown off by the action of the waves. The slowly moving and steady Kilo’s single 23mm cannon remained silent, until the range had closed to three hundred. The patrol boat was obligingly bow-on and the cannon fire ripped through her from stem to stern. None of the patrol boats guns were firing as she tore past the Bao.
On the horizon there was a flash followed by a low moan overhead. A shell burst in the sea behind them.
Dai was some five hundred yards behind the Bao when she herself finished her turn.
The patrol boat La Capricieuse had been deliberately run aground on the shore at La Pont Roches and was settling low in the water but there was no sign of movement on board.
Bao fired again, but this time there was a geyser of water erupting from just forward of her bow as she launched on the fast approaching corvette, first one and then a second RPK-7 anti-ship missile was launched from her forward torpedo tubes.
“Full ahead together.” Li ordered. “Dismount the 23mm and get it below…bow air sentry to the bridge.”
The chugging growl of the big diesels increased apace.
There was another flash on the horizon but it was followed by a far larger emission, as the first anti-ship missile flew into chaff flung out by the corvette.
The first missile detonated in the chaff cloud and then the corvette exploded. It was initially a very visual, yet silent event, until the sound of the double explosions reached them.
There was cheering from the Bao, and then Bao blew up too.
A flash, smoke and a sound that made Li cringe, followed by wreckage falling all about and into the sea.
The air sentry was just appearing at the top of the ladder, he could not have seen the explosion but he did hear it and his eyes were as wide as saucers.
“Get below!” shouted Li to the man.
“Lookouts below… clear the bridge…sound the diving alarm!”
Poseidon One Eight’s onboard systems had tracked the Exocet all the way from their bomb bay to its terminal impact.
Wary of surface-to-air missiles the Atlantique banked hard to port so as not to overfly the second submarine and instead her captain headed for the now stopped and burning corvette.
“Ready the life rafts!”
Captain Li removed the outer clothing and the ridiculous gun belt as he reached the control room, holding them out for his steward.
“He’s gone captain.” His exec said. “He was one of the landing party who were caught by the mortars.”
Li faltered momentarily, not because he had any affection for the man, but because it may have a bearing on his future actions.
The launch pads had not been put out of action by conventional methods, which had been a complete failure as far as Li could tell.
His orders in the case of the special forces mission being a failure was to stand off and nuke the ESA site from the sea.
To fail to do that was a certain death sentence for himself and every member of the crew, including family members.
“Range to the Soyuz site?”
“Thirty point eight miles, captain.”
The French aircrew were currently engaged in aiding the stricken warships survivors, but that would not last.
They had a small window in which to act and still be able to clear datum.
“Bring the boat to launch condition one, please.”
Poseidon One Eight did not notice the launch of the single weapon. It burst from the depths with its protective cocoon falling away and its short stubby wings extending.
The cruise missiles ramjet propelled it at a respectable 467mph towards it target, the Soyuz launch pad, where the 320 kiloton warheads detonation would obliterate the Ariane and Vega sites in the same blast.
Such self-sacrifice, such effort by the inshore raiding flotilla.
Four submarines and three hundred and sixty one men had set off on this mission. One submarine and seventy four men remained now.
Far quicker, at 879mph, three Mistral high velocity surface-to-air missiles left the mobile launchers of the Legions air defence section and rendered all that effort null and void, obliterating the Dai’s cruise missile before it had even crossed the coast.
CHAPTER 3
The return to the subterranean haunts that had become the homes for the President since the Washington bombing was depressing for Henry Shaw. Rubbing shoulders again with proper, down to earth troops who said it as they found it without the addition of spin had been a breath of fresh air. He already missed being with those who performed their duty as required and without catering to hidden agendas.
A not quite junior aide had met Henry on his return and managed to be respectful whilst still giving off a distinct coolness toward him. It was only to be expected; Henry would not have been surprised had a posse of MPs brought him back from Europe to face the President’s wrath.
In stark contrast to the civilian, the marine guard had been more than happy to see him back. In their eyes the Corps top Marine had gone off to the battlefield instead of staying in a hardened shelter with the army, navy and air force brass. It was a simplistic and erroneous view of the situation, which unfairly slighted the other services, but since when did a Marine ever pass up on the chance to strut that little bit more in front of the rest of the armed forces?
The President looked up when the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs entered the Situation Room, giving a perfunctory nod of welcome to Henry but his eyes held no warmth.
“Has General Carmine fully briefed you on what you missed while in Europe?”
He nodded.
“Yessir, Mister President.”
Henry took his seat and returned the greetings from CIA and FBI; apart from the service personnel at the table no one else so much as met his gaze. Terry Jones and Ben Dupre did not involve themselves in the office politics of whichever administration happened to be in power. They both knew Henry was on the Presidents’ shit list and they both knew why. They also quietly admired the Marine for the balls he had shown doing what they both believed to be only right and just.
Henry thought back to when he had last been in the presence of the President. It had only been a week ago, just seven days that had been filled with briefings and hurriedly arranged meetings before moving on, on to another headquarters or out of the way location.
Looking back on it now it seemed far, far longer.
The President cleared his throat, bringing Henry Shaw back to the present.
“General, will you now present your briefing please?”
ETO, the European Theatre of Operations, appeared on the screen set against the far wall. Henry centred the picture over the channel ports