Six C-301s began their final dive on the Belleau Wood from 100 feet. The first two struck center mass amidships, burrowing their way through 20 feet of hull and decking before exploding. Colonel Flint was on the flight deck preparing to board his UH-1N flying command post. The concussions of the twin explosions knocked him off his feet.
The third missile struck the bridge, instantly killing the PHIBRON 11 Commodore, Captain Bright and the captain in command of the Belleau Wood.
The fourth missile found the gaping hole created by the first two and traveled 30 feet within the ship before striking enough metal to trigger the penetrating warhead’s timer. The warhead traveled another 20 feet before detonating against the keel. Water began rushing in through a 15-foot hole in the bottom of the ship.
The fifth missile tore through the flight deck aft and wrecked the well deck’s water barrier.
Colonel Flint picked himself up and boarded his Huey chopper. Several staff officers were also on board. He saw another UH-1N airborne too. He hoped Rez and the XO made it. The skids of the helicopter lifted off the flight deck.
The last missile doomed the crippled ship. Flying through the same hole traveled and enlarged by three previous missiles, it reached two-thirds of the way through the beam of the ship before exploding, breaking the ship’s back. The front half of the ship lifted up and away from the still underway stern. Thousands of tons of water slammed against the exposed leading edge of the stern at 20 miles per hour, crushing bulkheads and flinging aside watertight hatches. The sudden deceleration swept a Harrier off the flight deck and into the sea. Within ten seconds only 20 feet of the now stopped stern was visible above the waves, its twin propellers pointing uselessly at the gray sky. More than 100 male and female sailors were dead or soon destined to be.
The last two of the first wave of 30 missiles descended on the USS Curtis Wilbur (DDG-54). The CIWS’ wall of super-dense tungsten bolts downed one. The other pushed on, decoyed slightly to the stern by the chaff. The missile struck aft, destroying the engine room and killing 26 sailors and wounding another ten.
In less than 90 seconds, the four ships of PHIBRON 11 were badly hit. The flagship was torn in two and sinking, the USS Dubuque would soon capsize, the USS Germantown sustained serious damage but still had power, and the USS Curtis Wilbur was on fire and dead in the water. The human cost was dramatic by modern American standards: 580 dead or missing, and 322 wounded. It could have been worse.
Due to Colonel Flint’s foresight and aggressive actions all but three of 31st MEU’s aircraft were in flight while every operational LCAC and assault amphibian was in the water. In all, he had 18 Sea Knights, nine Super Stallions, four Super Cobras, two Hueys, and five Harriers carrying 781 Marines, including crew, safe in the air — for the moment. In addition, he had another 65 Marines and seamen aboard five LCACs and 264 Marines inside 11 Assault Amphibians. Colonel Flint had half of his 2,200 Marines on the move, one step ahead of disaster. With hard work and Providence, he’d make landfall quickly and return to rescue as many Marines and sailors as possible.
Donna Klein was burning to speak with Jack Benson all day. He was either avoiding her or engaged in meetings. She couldn’t stand it anymore — she had time critical information and analysis to discuss.
She decided to risk a call to her old boss Mr. Scott — her boss’ boss. “No, Ms. Klein,” Mr. Scott’s secretary droned, “Mr. Scott is not available, he is in a meeting right now.” And, so it went for the remainder of the afternoon—What a Friday.
Finally, at 7:10 PM, she decided to personally visit Mr. Scott. Donna again called Mr. Scott’s office. Surprisingly, the secretary was still at her post. Donna had no patience for this. “Is Mr. Scott in his office?” she inquired, barely keeping a diplomatic tone.
“Yes, Ms. Klein…” Donna hung up and raced upstairs to the Office of the Director of Asian Pacific and Latin American Affairs.
The secretary looked alarmed to see her and moved to stop her. Donna swerved to avoid the woman’s intercept, knocked twice and threw open the door without waiting for an invitation. She was surprised to see her boss, Jack Benson, the China section chief.
“Donna…” Mr. Scott began.
“Look, I’m sorry to do this, but I’m certain…” Mr. Scott’s secretary was on the phone behind the open door.
Mr. Scott spoke, “Ms. Kesler, it’s okay,” he said to his secretary. “Donna, please close the door behind you.”
“Sir, I have to talk to you about China. I’m convinced they are preparing to invade Taiwan, probably within the next day or two!” Donna was flushed and still short of breath from her bolt up the stairs.
Benson broke in, sounding calm and reassured, “That’s why I’m here, I was just telling my boss that I believe China will try to take Quemoy in an attempt to force the issue of reunification, focus domestic attention away from the growing list of problems there, and challenge the U.S. to back away from its vague defense commitments to Taiwan. You know the Chinese just announced a temporary naval exclusion zone to block international traffic through the Taiwan Strait. We even have indications that they have shipped large quantities of fuel, food and equipment to North Korea, probably to distract us from their true objective.”
“No! That’s not it at all!” Donna paused, gathered her herself and fixed her gaze solidly at Mr. Scott, “The PRC is going to invade Taiwan proper. They’re going to do it within 48 hours, and they’re going to do it with enough force to crush resistance within days. They intend to present us with a fait accompli — there’ll be no way we can intervene in time. We’ll be faced with the choice of accepting Chinese aggression or mounting a costly assault on a prepared defense on a small island against a nation with four times as many people and the world’s second largest economy! This isn’t Serbia or Indonesia we’re talking about here. China can defeat us if she sets her mind to do so!”
Jack Benson looked angry and embarrassed. Donna had committed the ultimate sin: she went over his head to his boss with a harebrained, lunatic fringe story and tried to pass it off as real intelligence, “I’m sorry for this outburst Mr. Scott. You know the pressure Donna’s been under recently. Donna, see me in my office immediately!” Benson started to get up.
Mr. Scott said firmly, “Donna, stay right here. Jack, remember what it was like during the Cold War? Remember when the Chinese invaded Vietnam in 1979 and you were the only analyst to call it? Remember how everyone ignored you until it was already underway? Well, damn it Jack, let your analyst have her day. Donna may be politically incorrect in her suspicions of Chinese motives, but has she yet been wrong on anything important?”
Scott’s STU-IX secure phone rang. He picked it up, “Scott here.” His whole countenance dropped as he fell back into his chair. “Yes, I understand… Benson’s here right now… Klein? Of course she’s available… Yes, I understand.”