“Damn you! Who shot that?” Bai’s fellow pilot fumed on the radio, ignored by the others who were still engaged or bugging out to the east and safety. Bai noted black columns of smoke on the port — the H-6s had done their work — and he saw the corvette dead in the water with several fires visible. He pulled his nose down to it and recorded the image in his HUD before reversing back. Bai then found two H-6s to join on, providing them welcome escort as they all egressed away from the boiling cauldron of Cam Ranh, and turned southeast toward their island outpost. Swollen with pride as he shepherded the lumbering bombers, Bai Quon relished his score: two air-to-air kills and a corvette. Halfway back, he realized his flight lead was not with him and spent the next twenty minutes concocting a story.
As the Chinese egressed, they left ruin behind. The Vietnamese People’s Air Force and Navy had suffered crippling blows along 600 miles of coastline in a coordinated attack no one in the region thought possible. However, it paled in comparison to the totality of what the People’s Republic had accomplished in little more than an hour. From Cam Ranh to the Mariana Islands, from the waters off Japan to outer space, the People’s Republic had given notice to the world — and especially to the United States — and in their own words: This we’ll defend.
CHAPTER 29
Standing against a brisk wind, Admiral Johnson, Wilson, and Blower surveyed the damage to Hancock’s bow Catapult 1. Aviation Boatswain’s Mates, their green shirts and float coats covered in grime, had the cat track plates open and were sifting through shards of twisted metal covered in lube oil. The situation looked grim. None of them had seen anything like this damage and knew it would be a long time before Hancock was back in action. After receiving the rundown from the Chief, Captain Leaf posed a question.
“Chief, can we cannibalize parts to get one catapult working?”
“Sir, all four tracks are damaged and off their mounts, all four shuttles are out of alignment, and all four water brakes are shot. These here pistons are cracked and the brake carriage piping is cut. And that’s just what we can see. Captain, we are looking at your least-damaged catapult, and we don’t have the technical expertise to fashion parts and do the repairs. We need alignment tools and jigs for one thing, but, even more than that, this is beyond our capability to repair. Sir, we need to go in the yards… and for a long time.”
Leaf nodded as Wilson and the Admiral clenched their jaws into depressed frowns. All knew the chief was right. Wilson glanced over this shoulder to the waist and saw sailors with an acetylene torch blazing on Cat 3 to cut away a sharp piece of deck.
Hancock was charging east, away from the threat to give itself time to assess courses of action. As a warfighting asset, Hancock could operate helicopters to provide defense against submarines and small craft. Its fixed-wing aircraft were now useless, and more than that, trapped aboard, unable to even contribute as spares or operate from shore. Aircrew and key technicians could be flown off, but only once the ship was in helicopter range of shore. At this point, the United States had no combat capable carriers in the Pacific. And with Guam burning and Japanese bases restricted, Indo-Pacific Command airpower was a mere fraction of what was needed against an entrenched enemy.
Leaving the bow, The Big Unit and Wilson walked aft, sensing the eyes of sailors on them as they tried to form a plan. They knew they were in deep trouble, and, in the past hour, had learned of not only the Guam attack but also of the bold Chinese takedown of GPS and SATCOM satellites. That was as serious a message as China could send; the damage to Hancock was a sideshow, and China had pulled their punch and placed their weapons precisely in the most vulnerable flight deck positions. Both men knew China could have delivered the weapons elsewhere on deck to cause mass casualties and destroyed aircraft. By their restraint, China mitigated the very human instinct to avenge lives lost, and the report from Guam was that casualties there were on the low side. Both knew China was counting on keeping the American public asleep as it sent a strong message to the Defense Department and America’s regional allies.
“What are you thinking, sir?” Wilson asked as he looked up at his admiral.
“Holy shit… we’re in trouble… now what? Okay, with that off my chest, I’m thinking that the nearest yard is Yokosuka, which is a day-and-a half away, at best. Degraded comms, degraded weapons. Not sure how bad the satellite constellations have been damaged… getting the cats fixed and replacement personnel out to John Adams could be part of a strategic pause Admiral Clark is considering now, not that he chose it. Once we go below, I’m contacting him with this latest. How about you?”
“We’ll have to crane the jets off, and we’re still almost 2,000 miles from the fight, and our parts and bombs and bullets are here. Surely the Chinese have agents in Yokosuka watching every move.”
They both watched the Romeo lift from its spot and hover left and away from the working party on Cat 3 as it began its patrol. Wilson knew it was a good time to broach the subject before The Big Unit contacted Hawaii.
“Sir, what if we could fly the jets off without catapults?”
Johnson jerked his head toward Wilson and was surprised to see he was serious.
“Fly them off, with a deck run? Like Jimmy Doolittle?”
“Sir, let me talk with our test-pilot-in-residence Olive Teel. Let’s see what’s possible. We’ll run it by Blower…. Who knows? Air Wing Fifteen may be able to fight here and now.”
“Your parts, bombs, and bullets are still here, as are your maintainers.”
“INDOPACOM needs E-2s and Growlers in the fight, sir, and there’s always a need for fighters. I’ll have an option for you in an hour.”
As they approached the island hatch, a sailor held the door open for them. “Very well, Flip, make it two hours and get it right.” Just then Weed came up the ladder and stopped them.
“Admiral, we just got a report. The Chinese attacked Vietnam and Subic Bay, Subic with DF-21s and Vietnam with fighters and bombers all along their coast. Most of Vietnam’s fighters are destroyed.”
They absorbed the meaning of Weed’s report, and after a moment The Big Unit muttered, “Holy shit.”
After two raps on Wilson’s stateroom door, Olive opened it and poked her head inside. “Reporting as ordered, sir.”
Seated at the table, Wilson and Weed were studying an aeronautical chart that covered Japan and the Northern Marianas. “Olive, please come in and have a seat, and we don’t have much time,” Wilson said as he motioned to an open chair. Olive, expressionless, took her seat and waited.
“Olive, can we deck run the air wing off the ship?” Wilson asked her. Like Wilson, Weed was not smiling. They were serious.
She considered his question. Hancock’s flight deck was just under 1,100 feet long, and the ship could generate 30 knots of wind over the deck even on a flat calm day.
“I think we can, sir.”
“How?”
“Light-load the jets, reduce drag. Crank the ship up to a 35-knot wind over the deck. Run from abeam the LSO platform to the bow in burner; that’s over 1,000 feet.”
Pressing for more info, Wilson continued. “In this scenario, how much fuel in the jets do you consider a light load?”