He walked back to the bridge to see that members of his crew had rushed in and were evacuating the wounded from the bridge. Others had taken over the ship’s controls. He walked over to the ship’s intercom and picked up the phone with his good hand to ask for the damage report.
But before he could hear an answer, a bridge officer shouted another warning. He let the phone hanging and ran back outside to see the Changzhou a kilometer to the north firing more surface-to-air missiles from its bow launchers. The plumes lifted vertically and then arced back to the northeast…
“More missiles inbound! Brace for impact!” Bingde shouted and took cover behind the metal walls of the bridge. He kept his head above to observe and saw three more long tubes moving at supersonic speeds for the disabled Changzhou.
There was no hope for her.
But only one of the missiles was targeted at her. It slammed into the port side of the ship near the bridge superstructure, destroying the bridge and left the ship listing to the starboard into the sea. The fires reached the missile warheads on board and the bow of the ship exploded, creating a massive hole as water swept in, sinking the ship with it.
The two remaining missiles flew past the sinking Changzhou. One flew past its sinking bow and the other past its stern. The missiles each hit a container ship in the convoy and balls of fire rising into the sky before turning into pillars of smoke, but the ships were still floating…
Bingde was still dazed from what had just happened before his eyes. He noticed his hands shaking uncontrollably.
“Captain! Incoming radio message from the Indians!”
He stood up and took a deep breath. He shook his head to wipe the fear and told himself that his crew would need him. He walked over to the radio operator: “Let’s hear it.”
The operator opened the channel for the bridge crew:
“To all Chinese merchant and naval vessels in the vicinity: this is Vice-Admiral Surakshan, commander of the Indian fleet. You are now inside my kill zone. If you value your life and the life of your crew, you will listen to what I have to say. Try to escape and you will meet the same fate as your escorts. Surrender your ships now and you will live. Send out your intentions by changing course to the north at best speed. It gives me no pleasure to take civilian lives, but I will hardly hesitate if I have to. Do not challenge me on this. You have seen just seen a taste of the power I wield in the Indian Ocean. You have ten minutes to comply.”
Bingde looked around at the shattered bridge of his ship and saw that the bridge-crew was looking at him in silence, waiting for orders…
He could not surrender his ship. There was a war on right now, but there would be an after-the-war as well. If he and his crew surrendered this ship to the Indians, they would pay the price for it when they got back home. They would be tried for treason and then severely punished.
But ignoring the Indian threat meant that they would face oblivion just like the crews of the Changzhou and the Yulin. They had no defenses on board other than small arms, and the Indians weren’t looking to forcibly board these ships so those weapons did not matter. He picked up the phone and asked for the comms officer to patch him through to the other Captains of the three remaining ships…
A few minutes of discussion later he sent out his radio message back on the same channel as Surakshan and spoke in English:
“Indian navy commander, this is Captain Bingde of the Chinese merchant shipping vessel Aaa-Fu Yuankou. We are carrying civilian supplies to China and are unarmed. We must be allowed to pass unhindered. We will not surrender these ships!”
“Very well, Captain,” Surakshan replied. “I will give you and your crew exactly thirty minutes to abandon ship and get to a safe distance. After that I will hit your ships with missiles. This is your only warning!”
“Unfortunately I cannot do that, sir,” Bingde said calmly. “I repeat again: I am an unarmed merchant ship and in international waters. I will not submit my ship and my crew to your blatant hostility!”
“Captain,” Surakshan replied dispassionately, “all I can say to you is that your ten minutes started thirty seconds ago.”
The channel clicked off.
Bingde looked around and saw the fear on the faces of his bridge crew. He could not order the abandoning of this ship. But he also could not sacrifice his crew in good conscience. The Indians were going beyond the rules now on the high seas and there wasn’t much his own navy could do about it. He realized that his options were very limited. He picked up the speaker for the ship’s intercom:
“All hands, this is your Captain speaking. I order you all to abandon ship right now. I say again: abandon ship! Get as far away from the ship as you can. Go!”
He put the speaker down and looked at the bridge crew: “You all need to leave as well! Go! Now!”
“What about you, sir?” the radio-operator said. Bingde smiled.
“I belong on the bridge. I would rather meet my end here than in a labor camp somewhere. Now please leave!”
Fifteen minutes later the four remaining ships of the convoy were floating dead in the water with a dozen motor-lifeboats streaming away from them.
Bingde watched from the abandoned bridge as the small lifeboats moved away. He picked up his binoculars and walked out on the observation deck. He had tied a make-shift sling for his broken left arm in this time. He checked his watch and realized it was more than half-an-hour since his radio conversation with the Admiral. The Indian commander was giving him more time than he had promised. He held on to the railing as the first rays of sunlight illuminated the deck of the ship and the skies above became light blue.
A glorious day out on the high seas…
He just about saw the incoming missiles when they hit his ship near the stern, ripping the rails from his hands in a jerk and sent him flying into the air and into the waters below. By the time he came back up to the surface, trying to stay afloat with just one hand, he saw the hull of the Yuankou buckling and flexing after having taken high power hits from several Indian missiles. He saw large holes on the side of the ship from which black smoke was spewing out into the blue skies above. The cargo containers on the top deck broke loose under the strain and splashed into the waters. He had just enough time to look around the roiling waters to see the other three ships also on fire before one of the loose containers from the deck broke loose and fell right over him…
The smoke was still rising into the cold morning sky. Feng coughed as some of it reached his lungs as he stepped out of the staff car. Once he cleared his bout of cough, he took the protective goggles Major Li handed him. He put it on and looked around to see the aftermath of the devastating strike that had taken place here.
From where he stood near the exit of his underground command center, he could see a tower of flames in the distance from what had been the buried fuel-farm for the airbase. He could see hundreds of PLA soldiers now at the base assisting the beleaguered PLAAF personnel and civilian fire-fighters as they attempted to make the airbase operational again.