He went into a hatch on the starboard side and climbed three ladders to the O-3 level. His stateroom was nearby and, once inside and in his chair, he felt the tension drain out. He looked at the PLAT screen and tried not to think about what lay ahead.
On the PLAT, all was quiet as the camera remained focused on the folded-rotor Sierra at the top of the angle. Beyond the deck edge was familiar blackness, and he felt the ship roll in the heavy swells. Mullet had earned his pay out there, as did the E-2 and C-2 aircrews. Hours ago in the Lookout ready room, The Big Unit had pinned Air Medals on the crews for their accomplishment. Olive too received a medal. While appreciative, she shrugged it off as another day at the office.
Wilson now had his new AADM and HAVE REEL wonder weapons; they would give his fighters an added defense on Day One. When would that day occur? Three days? Four? What did Cactus Clark have in store for them? Wilson knew tomorrow — no, today—Hancock would receive a tasking order and download imagery and special procedures his aviators would use to plan their first strike.
They were still thousands of miles from the Chinese mainland, and thousands more from the Spratlys.
Wilson knew he and his aircrew would have to fight their way into the South China Sea. But what would the Chinese throw at them? PLA(N) submarines could be lying in wait along — or even outside — the second island chain, where they could expect H-6 bombers and the fearsome DF-21 screaming down on them from the ionosphere. If they survived that, PRC surface ships and naval fighters with supersonic sea-skimming cruise missiles were next, under an extensive air umbrella of capable 4th generation fighters like the J-10, J-11 and Su-30. And diesel boats and more H-6s and hundreds of thousands of “innocent” Chinese fishing vessels that dotted the ocean with encrypted and linked radios to act as tattletales and report any non-PRC unit they came across. All the EMCON in the world couldn’t defend them from an alert lookout with binoculars who was trained in ship and aircraft recognition. Once in the SCS, long-range and deadly SAMs from numerous islands could reach out and touch Wilson and his formations of strikers before any American sensor could detect their launch points. He thought of his aircrew, kids only a few years removed from flight school in Pensacola. Much would be asked of them in the coming days. Were they ready? Was he?
Are we really going to do this? Wilson and The Big Unit, even Admiral Clark in INDOPACOM had to think combat was imminent and had to have a plan to execute when the order came. Will we suffer heavy losses? And what are “heavy losses” in the new 21st century way of war? Is only one downed aircraft unacceptable? Are American citizens prepared to accept reports of multiple and daily aircraft losses? Will we lose a ship? My ship?
Still restless, he pulled some stationery paper from a drawer and a pen from his flight suit pocket.
Dear Mary,
It’s after midnight on the 21st, and we are a day ahead of you, now in the Eastern Hemisphere. We flew yesterday, and the guys did great.
We got a report from Lemoore. Congratulations to Derrick! All we heard was the score of the game, but I hope he had a good one. How about Brit — popular sister of the football hero? A fun time in their lives, and I regret missing it.
How are you doing? I’ve missed you and think of you daily. We get reports of what is going on in the world — yes, we know more than most about what is going on ahead of us — but I think you pretty much know what I know. How are the spouses doing? Please let them know their loved ones here are doing an outstanding job. They are ready for anything Washington asks of us.
We must be ready for combat, and we are. We might be playing a game of strategic chicken, but I wouldn’t mind if someone backs down. That said — with the loss of life on the cruiser and on the patrol plane you probably heard about — I doubt it will be us. My best-case scenario is that China sees us coming and raises their hands as if to say “Don’t shoot.” My sense is that they won’t, that they consider the islands they created in international waters as their sovereign territory and will fight for them as we would fight for Catalina. Not a completely valid analogy, but it’s late and the best I can come up with now.
They will have to abandon those islands for this to end. They won’t, unless we make them. Unless I make them.
As we talked before I left, we are under no illusions that this will be easy or go the way we may wish it to. I’m willing to fight now so Derrick and Brittany and their generation, won’t have to step up against a much stronger and entrenched enemy. In my mind, China did not want this fight, but they’ve got it. Guess I answered my own question; no one is going to back down. No one can.
If we go into combat now, it is better than waiting for combat later, and, if we fight, I’m sure you’ll know within minutes after it happens. Our forces are superior in quantity and quality. I’m confident in three things: the crew of this ship, Randy Johnson’s leadership, and myself, even as an old guy of almost 47! (Randy asked me to tell you hello next time I wrote.)
We have some stuff. I guess China does, too, and we may see it. However, we are defending freedom, and I’m willing to defend it.
Wilson read over his words, his intuition telling him that parents throughout time had thought the same about their own children, many of whom had followed their parents’ footsteps into wars in other places. If ordnance was expended from Hancock in anger, the carrier could expect to see some coming back at her in return. The prospect of casualties in the coming weeks was more likely than not. Where would Derrick and Brittany have to fight one day? The next words he wrote shocked him as they came off his pen.
I think this will be my last deployment. Don’t worry; that’s not a dark premonition. While I’ve thought about hanging it up before, I just think it’s time. Maybe one more shore tour back east. It’s never easy, but I know that you and the kids suck it up and salute come what may. I’m sorry for the times my career has ripped you all away from places and friends you’ve loved.
I intend to give this letter to the next pilot going to the beach, wherever that “beach” is, so it can be mailed. Know you like getting a letter once in a while. As I have for over 20 years. I love and miss you. We’re okay out here, we are ready and confident. We can pray, too, let’s all pray. You’ve always inspired me to do well. I’ll email and call first chance we get. Love to the kids, so proud of them.
Love always,
James
Wilson reread the letter — not too melodramatic, but enough to show Mary his inner thoughts. He kept much back. No need for her to know what a DF-21 or supersonic cruise missile could do to Hancock and the human beings inside. However, Mary knew this was going to be a heavyweight fight the likes of which the United States had not fought since the Second World War.
Wilson noted the flight deck still quiet on the PLAT monitor and checked the time: 0115. Past the cold front, the ship carried nothing more than a gentle roll. He wondered if the E-2 and C-2 crews — and Olive — were still awake from the adrenalin produced by their pitching-deck traps. He was ready for sleep and needed it before his day would start anew with a briefing in flag plot in less than six hours. Cactus Clark and his staff would no doubt have orders for Hancock—and Wilson — to carry out.