The targeting solution for the anti-ship missiles was easier than it was for the Standard missiles. First, the Americans didn’t have to worry about altitude. Second, the anti-ship missiles had their own radars for terminal guidance and wouldn’t have to rely on the crippled Aegis system. Third, ships make a much slower target than aircraft. Even still, the Strike/Missiles officer on the Curtis Wilbur had to carefully decide how to use his six Harpoons. The Harpoon’s relatively small warhead (488 lbs compared to 1,000 lbs for the anti-ship variety of the Tomahawk) and their small number meant that each missile had to count. (In the bad old days of the Cold War, ships like the Curtis Wilbur carried a mix of land-attack cruise missiles and anti-ship cruise missiles. In the age of hyperactive gunboat diplomacy, however, every last one of the 550 anti-ship Tomahawks had been removed from the fleet — both from ships and submarines — and placed into storage. Because of the heavy use of land attack Tomahawks against Serbia in 1999, 200 anti-ship missiles were taken out of storage and were being converted into land attack models.) The Harpoon’s warhead was designed to penetrate first, then explode. It was really designed to destroy warships. Given their targets appeared to be large civilian ferries and small patrol boats, Commander Meade wished he had the larger Tomahawks to use. He ordered an attack on the ships using three Harpoons apiece. Meade knew in his current state there was no telling when his ship would be rendered ineffective.
The anti-ship missiles blasted from their canisters on solid rocket motors. The solid rocket motors rapidly accelerated the missiles then burned out, leaving the missiles running at just under the speed of sound on turbo jet engines.
Gilbert was running low on fuel when he saw the first Harpoon streak under him, hugging the waves. He knew there must have been more, but they were hard to see against the increasingly rough ocean which now had white caps. The pilot turned around and made another pass at a right angle to the ships’ path. This time he made the run at 1,000 feet. He had a perfect view of the ships about three miles off. Snake hoped their air defense systems lacked the means to reach out and touch him.
The first Harpoon acquired its target, a large ferry dragooned into service from Hong Kong. On board were 5,000 men of the 97th Infantry Division’s 2nd Regiment as well as more than 100 trucks and armored personnel carriers.
The heavily laden inland ferry was only making nine knots against the stiffening east wind and rolling seas. It had set sail at 1800 hours the night before from Shantou and was now two hours behind schedule. Its mission was to land the 2nd Regiment in Kaohsiung Harbor, if possible. If the 3rd Regiment had failed to secure the harbor on time, its alternate landing beach was the sandy area just south of the southern entrance to the harbor (north of the harbor was too steep and rocky for a landing). The shallow draft ferry with its powerful and maneuverable engines could slide up on the beach and lower a ramp, allowing its passengers a rapid exit.
The Harpoon went into its terminal dive and hit the ship in the bow. The explosion tore the bow open. This single blow would have been sufficient to sink the over-laden ship within 90 seconds, but the Harpoons weren’t smart enough to recognize a dying ship. The second missile dove into the ferry amidships and hastened its demise. Only a few civilian crewmembers survived.
The second ship was the same class of commercial ferry as the first and also from Hong Kong. Modern, sleek and efficient, it normally carried up to 200 cars and 1,500 passengers between Hong Kong Island and Kowloon. Today it was carrying the 1st Regiment of the 97th Infantry Division. Three Harpoons crashed into the ferry’s superstructure and set it afire. Fuel and ammunition soon made the ship a very unsafe place to be. The ferry carried only enough life vests and rescue boats for less than a third of the passengers. More than 3,000 soon drowned. Drifting without power, the burning ferry would finally sink about midnight, its huge plume of thick black smoke and intense flames were a half-day reminder to the war’s participants that the enemy gets a vote in the outcome of any conflict.
At 1245 hours local time in Taiwan, almost midnight in Washington, D.C., Commander Meade finally reestablished communications with PACOM (Pacific Command) in Hawaii via the INMARSAT (International Maritime Satellite) telephone. Due to blind luck, the INMARSAT was down for routine maintenance during the attack and as a result, was not damaged.
Because INMARSAT calls can be intercepted, Commander Meade didn’t want to be too open via unencrypted voice communications. The initial contact sounded like a routine naval communication. The radioman in Honolulu recognized the voice of a signal school classmate of his on board the Curtis Wilbur. He could barely contain his excitement at hearing from a fellow sailor he thought dead only minutes before.
Within a few minutes, however, Meade’s signal crewmen established a secure voice link over the SATCOM phone. The signal specialist handed Meade the phone, “Sir, I’ve got PACOM in secure mode. The link may not last as well as with military SATCOM, but it’s the best we can do.”
Meade smiled at his hard-working sailor and picked up the phone, “This is Commander Meade, captain of the USS Curtis Wilbur reporting in. I need to speak with the watch officer. We have been attacked, I say again, we have been attacked.”
At the other end of the phone, a four-star admiral let loose a sigh of relief. He had been pacing nervously for almost five hours since two in the afternoon. The news that the Belleau Wood ARG was observing what looked like a huge Chinese cross-channel air assault on Taiwan was bad enough. The ARG’s loss of comms was worse. The constant calls for information from the Pentagon and even the White House itself were nothing short of a nightmare.
The CINCPAC (Commander-in-Chief, Pacific Command), Admiral Dunbar, measured his voice as best he could as he spoke into the phone (the conversation was routed over a speaker and recorded so the staff would hear everything), “This is Admiral Dunbar. Glad to hear you’re alive. Who attacked you and what’s your status?”
Commander Meade was relieved to hear the top man himself on the line, maybe now he could get some assistance, “Sir, we have been attacked, probably by the Chinese, judging by the direction of the attack. We have lost the Belleau Wood and the Dubuque with heavy loss of life. At least 500, although we’re still trying to get accountability.”
“500 dead!” the Admiral exploded, not only seeing an historic naval catastrophe, but also seeing his career coming to a grinding halt.
“Yes sir, it could have been worse. Both my ship and the Germantown were struck by large anti-ship missiles. The defensive systems were all knocked off line by the EMP from a nuclear explosion. The missiles hit us less than 15 minutes later. If it weren’t for my crew getting one Phalanx up we probably would have been sunk…”
“Why the hell were you in the Strait? The PRC issued a navigation warning…”
Meade was shocked. Dunbar was looking for a scapegoat. Fortunately, he was missing and presumed dead. On the other hand, Meade wasn’t in the mood for heaping blame on a dead hero and colleague, even if there was an admiral on the end of the phone, “Admiral, we were in international waters. Isn’t it the Navy’s long-standing policy to ignore such short-notice advisories as illegal? Besides, there is a typhoon to the southeast and the Taiwan Strait would provide us some…”