When Admiral Arthur Louis Manning IV, Commander of the USS Ford Carrier Strike Group, was finished reading, he handed the orders to the captain. He read the first few paragraphs and said, “You have got to be shitting me.” He kept reading and then looked up.
Admiral Manning said to his son, “What these orders tell us to do… there is only one reason for that.”
Chase nodded.
“Why the hell are they sortieing all our military assets to the Middle East and having us do this?” Captain Stewart said. “If they’re worried about China, why don’t they strengthen the Pacific theater?”
The admiral raised an eyebrow. “Why, indeed?” He stood up and walked to the back corner of the room, looking out a porthole that revealed the flight deck.
Chase said, “CINCLANT wants me to reiterate that this is for your eyes only. No one on your staffs can know about these orders right now — not until authorized.”
His father snorted.
The aircraft carrier captain said, “That’s ridiculous. Now how the hell are we supposed to get aircraft, parts, and supplies on board? It’s our staff that’s gotta do all the work and planning to make this happen.” He held up the papers. “This won’t happen unless we tell our staffs what to do.”
“Yes, sir, I understand that you’ll need to communicate what to do. The request is that you don’t inform them why, until it becomes absolutely necessary.”
“Chase?” His father spoke gently.
“Yes?”
“How many people know about this?”
“I asked the same question.”
“And?”
“Fewer than one hundred. It has the highest level of classification.”
“I see.” The admiral walked over to the couch and sat back down. “I’m going to speculate here. There could be two reasons for secrecy of that magnitude. One, they want plausible deniability. That just doesn’t fit here. We’re talking about taking protective action, not about launching a strike.”
“Not yet,” said the captain. “But those orders say to be prepared to—”
“Yes. But still — they aren’t keeping this a secret because they’re afraid of the public finding out. That’s my point.”
The captain said, “Why, then?”
“Because they don’t trust the normal channels of communication.” The admiral stopped. He looked at Chase and said, “Why on earth are you delivering this to me?”
Chase smiled. “General Schwartz is working at the CIA. I’m on Task Force SILVERSMITH with him. He made the connection and thought that my going here might be appropriate. Yours is not my only stop.”
The admiral nodded.
The captain said, “We’re going to have to break a lot of rules to get this done.”
“Yes we are,” said the admiral.
“And we’re going to have some coconspirators. Who’s gonna tell the USS Michael Monsoor and the F-35 guys about the plan?” He looked at Chase.
“Sir, I briefed the Michael Monsoor’s skipper yesterday. They’ll be at the rendezvous in a few days. And as soon as we’re done here, I’ll be headed to Eglin Air Force Base and then to Yuma to round up the F-35 support. Most units already have an activation order, but they don’t have all the information. I’m to provide that on a need-to-know basis to the unit commanders.”
The admiral shook his head. “Look at you. Secret agent man. You try to get out of the Navy, and the CIA throws you back at us.”
Chase smiled. “Sir, do you have any further questions about your orders?”
His father smiled. “No, son. That will be all. Come on, I’ll walk you back down to the flight deck.”
A few days later, Admiral Manning stood on the admiral’s bridge, watching a flight of four F-35Cs conduct the break overhead. One by one, each aircraft banked hard left, then came around and landed on the carrier.
It had been a whirlwind few days, and there were many more to come. The USS Ford had pulled back into Norfolk for a day. Thousands of personnel immediately had come aboard from the air wing and spent hours furiously unloading parts and supplies.
Families — and the ship’s personnel — were told that it was a last-minute additional training mission. But the admiral suspected that many of them knew better. Modern carrier strike group movements were planned years in advance. To conjure one up out of thin air — in a week’s time — was unprecedented.
Two days later, the USS Ford joined up with her surface ships. Two destroyers, including the latest of the Zumwalt class, the USS Michael Monsoor. A supply ship, two littoral combat ships, and a Los Angeles — class submarine. Although only a select few knew that the submarine was tagging along.
“Afternoon, Admiral.” Captain Stewart was all smiles. He loved getting aircraft aboard. That was what this ship was meant to do. He was tired of all the training and certification the Ford had been doing.
“Hello, Chuck. Anything new?”
“Sir, I triple-checked the Panama Canal for you. I am now one hundred percent sure that even with the widening they just did, we still can’t fit through. We’re gonna have to go the long way.”
The admiral shook his head. “Unbelievable. The United States made the damn canal, and we’re the only navy in the world that makes ships that are so big that they can’t fit through it. How long will it take to get to the other side?”
“Sir, the trip around South America will take several weeks.”
“How many?”
“Well, the Ford can do it in two. But we’ve got to wait up for the slowest ships in company.”
“I’m familiar… how many weeks, Chuck?”
“We think we can do it in three weeks at seventeen knots. We’ll have to plan for about four replenishments at sea during that time.”
“I know I don’t have to tell you this, but just in case there is any confusion — we aren’t stopping in port.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve made that clear to the navigator.”
“Alright. Thanks, Chuck.”
“Yes, sir. Oh, and the supply officer told me to tell you that we’re having steaks tonight.”
The admiral smiled. “Well, now you’ve done it. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry on board will know that something awful is about to happen if we give them steak.”
“Yes, sir.” The carrier captain smiled and left the space.
Admiral Manning resumed watching the jets land. The F-35s had all been retrieved. Now it was time for the Growlers. A pair of F-18s zoomed overhead, the first one entering the break… followed shortly by the second.
He could see an Arleigh Burke — class destroyer several miles away, pitching and rolling in the sea. A Seahawk helicopter was landing on her. The admiral sighed as he thought about his daughter. She was right where they were headed. He prayed that this all turned out to be nothing.
8
The Chinese president, general secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China, and chairman of the Central Military Commission, was not having a good day. He placed his elbows on his large oak desk, closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples.
“Would you like some more tea, sir?” the stewardess asked.
The Chinese president waved the woman away without looking up. “No. Please give us privacy. No calls or visitors.”
It was just the two of them — the president and his most trusted member of the Politburo, who was also one of the few members of his National Security Commission.
The Chinese president said, “You must understand the sensitivity of this matter. If it appears in any way that there is dissent among the party… that I am not in complete control of the military or intelligence community… then that would not bode well for us.”