At 10,000 feet Hill lined up for his attack run. To his left about two miles away, he could see the angry white spray of the LCACs making their way to the beach. Above them he saw the ACE’s helicopters. The freighter looked innocent, still and harmless off in the crowded harbor. Fortunately, it was one of the larger ships and appeared to be a bulk carrier as opposed to a container ship as most of the other ships were. It was easy to pick out in the harbor.
Hill keyed his mike, “I’m going in. You may fire when ready Gridley.”
Hill armed the bombs and waited until the ship was obscured by the nose of his aircraft. He nosed the Harrier down to a 45 degree angle, quickly found his target, and sped up to almost 600 mph. To the left, just behind the row of buildings on Chichin Island about a mile away from the freighter, Hill saw his two wingmen rise up and begin firing their cannons at the ship. Tracers arced across the bay into the ship’s superstructure. Hill had about seven seconds to dive, line up, and release his iron bombs about 5,000 feet above the target with the aid of his AN/ASB-19 Angle Rate Bombing Set computer. He started releasing chaff to confuse any radar guided missiles or anti-aircraft guns the enemy may have set up. Beads of sweat popped out of his face. In rapid succession Hill released his six bombs.
“Mole! Mole! SAM launch! Two, three SAMs coming at you!” Snake cried.
Not unexpected. Hill pulled back on the stick and released flares to decoy heat-seeking missiles. The laser warning tocsin sounded. Damn. “Laser warning, I have laser warning!”
Dockside, next to the emptying Chinese freighter, a specially equipped PLA anti-aircraft team had just let loose with a Starburst shoulder-fired, laser-guided SAM. Starburst, made in Northern Ireland, has been around since 1991. It wasn’t supposed to be in China, then again, there were quite a few things that managed to make their way to China, the lure of cash being what it is. The laser-guided system was nearly impossible to decoy. Immune to chaff or flares, the missile was guided to its target by a laser beam. Once the system acquired the target, the shooter simply kept the target in his sights while the system’s computer held the laser beam on the target until the missile impacted. Designed for use against helicopters or low-flying aircraft, the missile was tremendously accurate.
The missile exploded just under the engine inlet, knocking out the Rolls Royce Pegasus turbofan engine. The Harrier shook madly as Captain Hill fought to recover control. Hill’s leg felt numb. He looked down. Oh shit! The missile had torn a fragment of metal loose from the aircraft and sent it up the inside of his right calf, shredding the lower half of his leg. He no longer had rudder control (if the aircraft still had rudder control to lose). Two conventional heat seeking missiles streaked by his canopy, decoyed by the flares. The aircraft had been kicked over on its side by the explosion and subsequent aerodynamic forces. He could see the freighter below him. Hill knew he had about six seconds of flight remaining before his aircraft crashed. He reached to pull the ejection handle. A shard of metal obstructed it. Oh God. Forgive me.
Hill pushed the sluggish stick to the right and rolled his aircraft upside down. He was now diving straight onto the ship. He gritted his teeth, “Snake, I’m hit hard. Tell my wife I love her.”
The first 1,000-pound bomb hit the ship in the stern smack on top of its superstructure, penetrating two decks down before exploding. Just before the ship’s portals and hatches began to shatter and belch fire, the second bomb hit. The dry bulk carrier had five small mounds of crushed ore visible on deck, one pile for each cargo hold. Hill didn’t know it, but there was nothing but air under the piles — more specifically, air, a specially built-up interior lattice structure and about 3,500 of the 4,000 PLA conscripts that were to take Kaohsiung still inside, slowed down by heat exhaustion and confusion. The second bomb passed between the rear two piles of ore and exploded in the ship’s hold. The ship’s hull buckled outward and more than 1,000 soldiers died instantly. The third and fourth bombs hit the piles of ore on the deck and exploded in a great shower of dust, collapsing both piles into the ship’s interior. The fifth bomb hit the bow section and exploded inside the ship, just below the water line. Another 500 soldiers perished. If Hill had any doubt that his target was legitimate, he finally noticed two gangplanks extending from the ship to the dock. The first bomb explosions having cleared the soldiers off the ramps like a broom clearing ants off a sidewalk. At 1,000 feet with less than two seconds remaining in the last dive of his life, Hill toggled his 25mm cannon to life (he hoped it would work) and selected an aim point at the middle of the ship, between the second and third pile of ore.
The 22,000 pounds of mostly-fueled Harrier tore through the ship and exploded beneath the deck. In less than ten seconds of combat with the U.S. Marine Corps, the PLA lost 3,500 men from the 3rd Regiment of the 97th Infantry Division. The Marines had a long way to go to avenge the losses dealt to their Navy brethren, but they counted this a beginning.
The private was barely able to move. He and his platoon were in one of the buildings at the end of the wharf when he heard the unfamiliar whoosh of the outbound Chinese SAMs. He stiffly stood up to refill his canteen in the restroom and decided to hazard a look out the ground floor window. He noticed the diving Harrier but didn’t process its significance until the first bomb ripped at the dry bulk cargo ship he called home for the last three days. The conscript simply stood at the window, mouth agape. Finally, the blast shock wave reached the private’s building. Unfortunately for the young private, the window faced down the wharf at a 90-degree angle to the direction of the shock wave. The plate glass window shattered, shredding his face and slicing his jugular. Within five minutes, the 19-year-old was dead.
Donna Klein had been in the National Military Command Center (NMMC) once before on an orientation visit for CIA employees. The NMMC was on the second floor of the Pentagon. The third floor had been removed over the command center to provide room for large overhead displays and other equipment. The first time she saw it she was amused at how crowded it was with wires and TVs and displays. It looked nothing at all like the huge and lavishly equipped command center Hollywood portrays. She remembered that just to the right of the main door, up in a corner, was a lighted display of the DEFCON (Defense Readiness Condition) status for the various regions where America’s troops were stationed. During her first visit every location was at DEFCON 5 except the Korean Peninsula — it was at DEFCON 4 because of the hair-trigger readiness of the North Korean People’s Army to attack the South and the 37,000 U.S. troops stationed there.
After signing in at the entrance she walked through the two sets of doors and began to look to the right to check the DEFCON status. Before she could find the display (did they move it since her last visit?) she saw General Tim Taylor. She found herself looking at him for a moment, studying how he interacted with those around him—confident, but respectful.
Seeing her, General Taylor jumped out of his front row chair in the theater-like seating and called out, “Donna! I’m glad you could make it on such short notice. Do you know how hard it is to find the ‘A’ team on a Washington Friday night? Please sit down.” He gestured to the empty chair next to his, “Admiral Gordon here was about to update me on what we know so far in Asia.”