“Concur, Marshal, and that relieves us from taking action against the other pilot involved. Zhong Wei Hu was following his leader and, at those speeds with close separation, he had to keep his eyes on the airplane next to him and nothing else. When the lead pilot landed, he gave his superiors an account that I do not believe is entirely accurate. Now, with this video, we face national shame… if we accept the American account. I am told this pilot has fighting spirit. We’ll need him in the coming days, and we save ourselves embarrassment and poor morale by supporting his story. We can deal with the investigation into Hu’s death later.”
“His father demands it.”
“We will not forget, Comrade Marshal.” Dong then changed the subject. “Do you have tracks on the major American forces?”
Qin was grateful to move on to an easier topic; fighting the Americans.
“We have knowledge of most. Their carrier John Adams remains in Guam, but the Americans will send crews in weeks to make it combat ready. They have another carrier in the Indian Ocean, USS Les Aspin, and it is moving toward Malacca where we can easily track it and where it will be at its most vulnerable. Two carriers left San Diego, and we know where one is, USS Sam Nunn, bound for Hawaii. The other is USS Hancock, and we do not have a track on it. Our fishing fleet and militia are pulling back to home waters, and the farthest east we have boats are north of Midway and around Christmas Island. We are going to hold them at the second island chain to form a picket line. The carriers must cross the chain to engage us, and we’ll be able to harass them with our submarines and militia. At any rate, we’ll be able to detect and track the missing carrier.”
“Where do you think it is, Comrade Admiral?”
“Somewhere in the North Pacific, and it has gone silent. I expect we’ll find it in the next 72 hours.”
“And their bombers?”
“Imaged at Guam and Diego Garcia; our spies will alert us to their launch. Even so, from those bases, our near seas are easily within their reach. They could base some in Australia, with more in Hawaii and Alaska. Their tactical aircraft are in Japan and Guam, as are their aerial tankers — their Achilles heel.”
Dong considered the disposition of forces, his and the Americans. Ship-to-ship and airplane-to-airplane, he was outmatched, and the world knew if the Americans were allowed to consolidate forces on a frontier, they could not be resisted. His only hope was to land the first blow. The Party did not want war with the United States, but the vital shipping lifeline from Malacca through the Southern Sea to Hong Kong and Shanghai had to be controlled. Now, more than national honor was at stake. The oil lifeline actually began in Hormuz, and Dong knew Qin’s Indian Ocean forces were no match for the Americans who enjoyed air supremacy there.
“Comrade Admiral, how much warning can you give—? No, how much warning can you guarantee, before the Americans can attack? Our strategy depends on it.”
Qin swallowed hard as he considered Marshal Dong’s request. Who knew with the Americans? They were unpredictable and wily without their amazing spectrum of capabilities. With what they had, the Americans could stumble into victory through sheer force. Qin knew, however, the PLA had hidden cards to play.
“Comrade Marshal, I believe the American carrier Hancock will be detected crossing the second island chain in 72 hours, and chances are, our fishing militia or our high-altitude, long-endurance, unmanned aircraft will find it before it does. Once this carrier is inside the second chain, I believe the Americans will be able to strike all along our frontier seas — from the Senkakus to the Spratly Islands — and, within days, will have two more carriers in position to attack. They’ll have a fourth carrier operational when they fly crews to Guam. Such unencumbered naval and air power will eventually sever our sea lines of communication from Malacca and up the first island chain. And with Vietnam on our flank, we will have a difficult problem.”
“So you predict an attack in 72 hours?”
“They could, but if I had to bet, I’d say 96 hours from now, Comrade Marshal. If I may, I’m ordering my forces to keep clear of any American or allied units they encounter. Same for the militia. We do not want to spook them into action before we are in place.”
“I see. Thank you, Comrade Admiral. I will forward your report. Prepare your forces for combat. You’ll have specific orders soon, perhaps by the end of today.”
“Yes, sir, Comrade Marshal.”
Later that afternoon, at sites in Hunan and Sichuan provinces, linesmen in giant subterranean hangars pulled the tarps off strange looking machines. Technicians hooked up electrical power and ran diagnostic system tests as others lugged fuel hoses to prepare the machines for action. Sharp-eyed sergeants with detailed checklists supervised the preparation with strict attention to detail.
That night, control tower personnel at bases connected to the secret hangars were ordered out of the tower. Minutes later, three secret aircraft, unmanned and never before employed, took off from the bases. With their navigation lights extinguished, each was programmed to fly assigned sectors to search for, find, and track the Americans along the second island chain.
Part II
No one starts a war — or rather, no one in his senses ought to do so
— without first being clear in his mind what he intends to achieve by
that war and how he intends to conduct it.
CHAPTER 18
Turning south on the narrow taxiway of Midway’s Sand Island, Lieutenant Commander Jerry Zavitz looked over his left shoulder. The C-2 Greyhound was taxiing out of its parking spot to follow him. He keyed the ICS and said, “He’s rolling,” to his copilot, Lieutenant Bill Smith.
Under the lead of Zavitz, flying a brand-new E-2D Hawkeye, the two aircraft were going to join up overhead the runway and turn north. Ahead of them was a 1,000-mile transit over the open Pacific to a point they expected Hancock would be at the appointed time. If she wasn’t, they would be forced, at night, to continue on to Adak, over another 400 miles of cold Pacific waters and land at the unfamiliar island base, hard against an Aleutian mountain and surrounded by other mountains. Fuel planning was critical, and they had a narrow window to find the ship and get aboard, all under strict emissions control and radio silence.
Pilots Zavitz and Smith were hand-picked by their CO for this mission, and they had flown their Hummer from Pt. Mugu, California, across 2,000 miles of ocean to Hawaii. After a night short on rest, they had continued to Midway for another fitful night’s sleep in the island’s spartan transient quarters. Midway had a population of 100 people, maybe, and more than 100,000 screeching seabirds. In the tube behind the two pilots were three Naval Flight Officers who operated the dome that scanned miles and miles of ocean. They could not use it today, so the “moles” in back could do little more than monitor the navigation.
The C-2 pilots were also hand-picked for the mission. Lieutenant Commander Ed Toth was a veteran E-2 pilot with hundreds of carrier landings. The Greyhound he was now flying was considered by some to be a delivery truck with a tailhook, and his squadron sent their A-team for this varsity mission. Next to Toth was Lieutenant John “Chewy” Chu, an experienced COD pilot, and in back was their loadmaster, Aviation Electrician Second Class Maggie Battistini. She was a veteran loadmaster, and it helped she was only five feet tall and 100 pounds. In their maximum takeoff weight airplane, every pound counted.