Chagda made a slight turn to the right, and seconds later two C801 missiles leaped into the sky from their canisters. The first missile’s fiery exhaust trail continued straight ahead, while the second missile’s exhaust seemed more erratic, weaving into the night sky. Hopefully it had locked onto the damned Filipinos who had the audacity to attack a Chinese task force!
But as Chow and his bridge crew stared out the forward windscreens, they saw a tremendous barrage of gunfire erupt from out near the horizon. It lasted only a few seconds, punctuated by a brilliant flash of light and a cylindrical spinning object that landed in the water and burned for several seconds before winking out. It was one of Chagda" s C801 missiles, hit by a furious barrage of gunfire that definitely wasn’t from anything like a Negros Oriental-class patrol vessel. The other C801 never turned in the direction of the gunfire and had probably self-destructed.
“What was that?” Chow shouted to his Combat bridge crew. “That wasn’t a patrol vessel out there.”
“Unknown, sir,” his officer of the deck replied. “Analyzing radar signals at this time, but nothing definite.”
“Where did those helicopters come from?” Chow shouted, puzzled and more than a bit afraid. “How did they get out here so fast without being detected? We’re over five hundred kilometers from a Philippine base.”
“They either staged their attack helicopters on barges or oil platforms, or—”
“Or there’s a ship out there large enough to land a helicopter on board,” Chow interjected. “The Philippines have only one vessel large enough to land a helicopter and load antiship weapons on board — Rizal-class corvette. But that still doesn’t explain that gunfire we saw on the horizon. What other—”
And it was then that Commander Chow realized what it was — the largest, most powerful vessel in the Philippine inventory, the PF-class destroyer escort frigate. The ex-U.S. Navy Cannon-class frigate, another World War II relic, had no fewer than twenty large-caliber radar-guided guns on board, along with two 76-millimeter guns and a four-shot Mk-141 Harpoon antiship missile launcher. That was no oil-drilling rig on Phu Qui Island — it was a major Philippine combat fleet, with at least three of its largest class of warships lying in wait.
“Signal Dragon that we believe there is at least one PS-class corvette and one, possibly two PF-class frigates in the area of Phu Qui Island,” Chow ordered. “Direct Yaan to assist Baoji, and I want the task force to turn south away from Phu Qui Island. I need Admiral Yin to signal.”
“Missile launch detected!” the Combat officer cried out. “Ku-band radar! Harpoon missile in the air!”
That was the last coherent sentence Commander Chow Ti U was to hear. He ordered electronic countermeasures, expendables, and his guns to open fire on the attacking missiles, but the electronic jamming was too strong; the Chagda did not pick up the missile until the Philippine ships ceased jamming, which was moments before the Harpoon’s active radar seeker would be programmed to activate and search for its target, about twenty seconds from impact. By that time the Harpoon missile had begun a series of random jinks, punctuated by a high, looping terminal “pop-up” maneuver, a feint that was all but impossible for the Chagda's defensive guns to follow.
The missile slammed into the Chinese patrol craft traveling close to the speed of sound, pierced the main superstructure, and drove down several decks before its four-hundred-and-eighty-pound warhead detonated.
A second Harpoon missile followed seconds later, adding to the swift destruction of Chagda by exploding in the engine room, creating a blossom of fire so huge that it created shadows on the water for five miles in all directions.
“Lost contact with Chagda, sir,” the Combat Information Center officer reported to Admiral Yin. “Last report was of a PF-class frigate and a PS-class corvette near Phu Qui Island. No other details.”
“Attack helicopters, jammers, now a possible Philippine strike fleet,” Admiral Yin muttered. He had been in his command chair in the center of the Hong Lung's small Combat Information Center, trying to piece together the situation as bits of radio messages were slowly merged with long-range radar data.
Were the Filipinos out of their minds? Yin wondered. To attack the Chinese naval forces after the events of just a few months ago wasn’t merely outrageous, it was, in Yin’s mind, idiotic. Certainly they didn’t think they had a chance at defeating a force the strength of his…
Or did they?
What did they know that he didn’t? He mulled this over for the briefest minute. He would have to play this very, very carefully.
“Bridge to Admiral Yin,” Captain Lubu’s voice reported over a loudspeaker. “We are overtaking Wenshan.”
The Hong Lung was at flank speed, which was at least six to ten knots faster than any of his flotilla’s other vessels except for two of his small Hegu-class fast attack missile craft, Fuzhou and Chukou. That would mean that Hong Lung would have no antimine or antimissile protection other than its own 37-millimeter guns and its phalanx Gatling-gun system. “Shall we pass to port or join up?”
After giving the facts — and his own fears — careful consideration, Yin radioed back: “Pull ahead of Wenshan, reduce speed to twenty until Xingyi catches up, then resume thirty laiots until within radar range of Chagda's last known position.” Xingyi was his Huangfen-class fast attack missile boat, which also carried the supersonic Fei Lung-7 antiship missile as did Hong Lung. “Have the rest of the task force extend and follow. Have Fuzhou and Chukou continue at flank speed towards Chagda's last-known position.”
Yin wasn’t about to storm into a hostile region alone, with only a few lightly armed twenty-seven-meter boats as protection — he was going to send the two small boats to “beat the bushes” and find the Filipino bastards who were doing the shooting.
“Yes, sir,” Lubu replied crisply. “Expect Xingyi to rendezvous in thirty minutes.”
“Message from patrol craft Yaan,” the CIC officer reported. “Chagda in sight and on fire. Reports from crewmen say they were hit by sea-skimming missiles. Patrol craft Baoji heavily damaged but under way, moving southwest at five knots. No contact with minesweeper Guangzou. Yaan requests permission to assist Chagda.”
“Permission granted,” Admiral Yin replied crisply. “I want a report on the Philippine vessels. Direction, speed — I want it right now.”
“Yes, sir,” the CIC acknowledged.