But they were better than the ones for Sean Murphy and the Tampa.
Pacino reached into the duffel bag on his bunk and pulled out a black zippered briefcase. He unzipped the case and withdrew a bundle of papers. The first was a large-area plot of the western Pacific and the east coast of China. The ship’s track was laid out in straight black lines, each turn marked by a letter.
South from Yokosuka to Point Alpha, southwest to Point Bravo, the dive point Alpha-Prime in between.
At Point Bravo the track turned northwest to the Yellow Sea opposite the southern tip of Korea, where at Point Charlie it extended north into the Korea Bay.
The track turned steadily west at Points Delta and Echo, where it headed due west to the Lushun/Penglai Gap, the entrance to the Go Hai Bay. After jogging northward of Point Foxtrot and Golf, the track continued west to Point Hotel at Tianjin on the western coast of the bay.
“As you can see, we’re headed for Point Hotel off the Chinese coast at Tianjin in the Go Hai Bay. Our ETA at Point Hotel is seventeen hundred zulu time Sunday. That will be zero one hundred local time, nicely in the middle of the night.”
The next paper was a large blowup of an overhead photograph, either a satellite view or a shot from an RF-117A Stealth. It showed the concrete pier at Xingang with the American submarine secured between two surface warships, the pier side ship tied to the pier, another warship astern of the submarine, a fourth ahead of it. The submarine looked wounded, her paint blown off in large patches, her sail damaged, the hatches on deck guarded by several men wielding weapons. Pacino spread the photo out on the table and let the men look at it.
“This is the Tampa, now under the control of the Chinese Communists at the P.L.A Northern Fleet piers at Xingang. As you’ve all guessed by now, our mission is to get the Tampa and her crew out of the bay in one piece.”
Pacino told the men that the Tampa crew were likely held aboard, that the engine room was probably still steaming, and that the surface forces of Lushun would be waiting for them at the mouth of the bay, at the Lushun/Penglai Gap.
“So, gentlemen, it’s your turn. How the hell do we get this boat out of here?”
Morris had pulled a cigarette from his fatigue uniform pocket and was searching the room for an ash tray. Finding none, he shrugged and lit the cigarette, blowing the smoke to the ceiling. The room’s quiet ventilation system sucked the smoke away almost immediately.
Morris tapped an ash into his unused coffee mug and squinted through the smoke at Pacino.
“I say we dive under the inboard and outboard destroyers and blow them. Meanwhile we’ll sneak aboard the sub, kill the guards, turn it over to the crew and get the hell out.”
“You make it sound real simple,” Lennox said.
“What does ‘blow the destroyers’ mean? You got a couple girls from Subic in your unit?”
“Up yours,” Morris said, hands balled into fists.
“Hold it,” Pacino said, steel in his voice.
“Let’s understand each other. This is a mission to rescue the Tampa, not to play interservice rivalries. Commander Morris, you SEALs are always bitching that no one in the rest of the Navy knows or cares how to use your forces. Well, this is your chance to define the mission your way. I’m open to anything you want to try. Just don’t insult our intelligence with macho crap about ‘blowing the destroyers and taking the boat.’ How, where, why, damnit …”
Morris looked into his cup, now filling with ashes.
“Okay, Cap’n,” he said, his voice calm. “This is how it goes down. SEAL Team Seven’s first, second and third platoons are aboard. Each platoon has six enlisted men and an officer in command. You get us close to the pier and lock us out a platoon at a time.
When we’re all out, we’ll put a series of high explosive satchel charges under the keels of the inboard and outboard destroyers. First and second platoons knock out the topside guards, as quiet as possible, and board the sub. While they are taking care of the guards aboard, third platoon keeps watch to make sure no reinforcements board from the other ships or the pier.
They’ll get aboard the sub just before the charges blow. If the crew is aboard, they can get the engines going. At time zero, the charges under the surface ship keels go off. The sub is freed, it backs up and gets out of there. The rest is up to the crew.”
“Blowing up the inboard and outboard destroyers will also sink the Tampa,” Lennox said. “She’ll be dragged under by the lines to the destroyers. Once her hatches are underwater, you’ll drown every man aboard.”
“So we’ll cut the lines or detonate some C-4 explosive ropes — that would be even quicker. With the lines cut, the sub will stay afloat. Better yet, she’ll stay afloat with no gangway or connection to the pier. The only way the Chinese can get to her from the land side is by swimming, and the third platoon will take care of anyone who enters the water. Of course, the problem is a patrol boat or another destroyer coming — that could really screw things up.”
“We’ll keep the sea side clean,” Pacino said.
“What if the crew has been taken off?” Lennox asked.
“Then you’re up the old creek,” said Morris.
“So are you. You’ll be trapped in a submarine with no one to sail it. You’ll be dead meat.”
“Then maybe we’ll need to extract and lock back into this ship and get out.”
“Commander, I could take care of the destroyers with cruise missiles,” Pacino said. “You and your men could save some time and exposure and all get aboard the Tampa at once. When you’re in I put a cruise into each surface warship at the piers. Tampa only has to start up and clear the wreckage, then follow us out of the bay.”
Keebes frowned.
“The smoke and rocket-exhaust trail would give away our position and alert the Chinese that we’re there. We’d never make it out of the bay. Every ASW asset in the north and east fleets would be hunting for us. And even if they couldn’t hear us, they’d sure hear the Tampa.”
“They’ll know we’re there anyway, with the takeover of the boat—”
“For all they’d know,” Keebes pressed, “the SEALs could have parachuted in. Launching cruise missiles would eliminate all doubt about how they got in. It would be better to use torpedoes. That would get the surface ships without exposing us to detection.”
“Torpedoes are no good,” Pacino said flatly. “A small bearing-error could lead to the Tampa taking a torpedo hit from us. If we use fire from the Seawolf I think it will have to be a salvo of Javelin cruise missiles. What do you think. Commander Morris?”
“I don’t like it, Cap’n. If I place the satchel charges under the destroyers, at least then I know they’ll be put on the bottom. A cruise missile could go anywhere, get lost on the way to the target, or blast into us. Plus it tells the whole wide world you’re there, like your XO says.”
“But it would also get your forces in-hull sooner with more force. Correct?”
“Yeah. But that does me no good if those Javelins fuck up.”
“The time delays on the charges are fixed. If things go sour on the rescue I can launch the missiles at any time—”
“Not true. I have radio-controlled detonators,” Morris said.
“How would that work with the explosives underwater?” Pacino challenged. “Radio signals don’t penetrate water very well.”