Liu darted away to the small sandy beach, down from the road behind piles of crushed coral. The beach was hidden from the tower and offered clear views of approaching vehicles. The rising moon bathed it in soft light, and Bai could see Liu frolicking, her squeals of delight carried on the sea breeze. A carefree Chinese girl on a frontier outpost, free in this new century that would be led by China. She skipped and splashed in the water, oblivious to approaching patrols or American fleets, calling to the seabirds, bursting with life in this beautiful new Chinese world that no one could take from them.
She would make a good wife…
“Bai! Bai Quon! Come! Dance!” He heard her call from the shoreline. A smile formed as he watched her prance about, swinging her arms. A moment’s rest… he could give up thinking about the Vietnamese and the Americans for a moment. Bai lifted his shirt over his head.
CHAPTER 34
“The Americans have carrier planes in Iwo Jima!”
Qin took a moment to digest the report from Vice Admiral Li in Zhanjiang. “How did they get there?”
“Either they were able to repair their catapults, or they used a crane. We’ve imaged over forty aircraft on the island, including their carrier-based E-2 AWACS planes. However, human intelligence from Japan says the carrier Hancock is en route to Yokosuka for repair. Correlating all sources, we believe the planes on Iwo Jima belong to this carrier.”
“At least one catapult escaped damage,” Qin said. “They must be putting in for repair. Do you have agents in Yokosuka?”
“We do, Comrade Admiral.”
“Very well, we must obtain a damage report and estimation of repair.”
“It will be done, Comrade Admiral,” Li answered.
“Fleet commander, we still have a problem. Those aircraft may be pressed into service, either by the Americans flying them to another carrier or based out of Iwo Jima, like their base at Guam.”
“Iwo Jima is a fraction of the size of Guam, Comrade Admiral. Even the Americans cannot mount a significant force from it — and the island belongs to Japan.”
“Yes, Japan, who is only too happy to help the Americans now that your submarine sank their carrier. Do not underestimate them, any of them. They have dozens of tanker aircraft and can hit us from the second chain, or Alaska, or Hawaii.”
“Comrade Admiral, Iwo Jima is over one thousand miles from the fatherland, and over sixteen hundred to our southern sea outposts. My aviation advisors tell me that, from that long a distance, they could mount only a small raid. I agree with you that the planes can augment the John Adams and their other carriers coming to the region. Another fear is dispersal to other island outposts. No, we must destroy them now while they sit at Iwo Jima, Comrade Admiral.”
“How do you propose we accomplish this?”
“Strategic Rocket Force attack, Comrade Admiral, such as with Guam and Subic.”
“Out of the question! We are not going to attack Japanese soil from outer space and deepen our hole.”
Li did not have a better plan; placing his ships outside the first chain was too much to risk. A long-range aviation strike at such a mind-boggling distance was a problem for his Naval Air Force — even for the People’s Air Force. Neither had ever accomplished such a flight, even in training.”
“Where is your nearest submarine?” Qin asked.
“The last reported position of Changzheng 8 is some five hundred miles east of the Luzon Strait. We’ve recalled him per orders.”
Qin made a face. Damn! Changzheng 8 and its maverick commander had proven their incompetence and had brought in Japan as a belligerent. He should be imprisoned, not given this great responsibility, this chance at glory!
“Turn him around! Have him close Iwo Jima at best speed. What about the fishing militia? How are they deployed?”
“They are everywhere in the near seas, Comrade Admiral, and we have several dozen inside the second island chain, including one off Iwo Jima. It lost its two drones — cause unknown — and with the loss of our satellites, communications to our far sea vessels are difficult and unreliable.”
Qin spoke in a stern voice. “We must destroy these American aircraft as soon as possible and deny Iwo Jima as a staging base. Your cruise missile submarine is our best chance. He cannot fail.”
“He won’t, Comrade Admiral.”
From his makeshift “office” under the control tower, Wilson got the message he expected from 7th fleet headquarters.
PRC FISHING VESSELS OPERATING IN YOUR VICINITY ARE HOSTILE ISR ASSETS. WITH PID ENGAGE FOR MISSION KILL.
This was it, a tasking order, and, as with most naval messages, it did not have a lot of amplifying information. Mission kill. Sinking the boats was a mission kill, but so was knocking out their sensors. How to do that? What sensors did they have, and where on the vessels were they placed? Hell, a deckhand with binoculars was a sensor. And fishing boats were all over the place; the last thing they needed was to hit a Japanese boat by mistake. The hardest part of this tasking order was going to be making the positive ID.
Could the boats defend themselves? Wilson figured they had shoulder-fired missiles and small arms, maybe a hidden 23mm gun. His pilots could identify the boats with their sensors, and the E-2 and EA-18G could help.
What to hit them with? He had some air-to-air missiles the jets took with them on their deck runs or were sling-carried by the Sierras, along with a pallet of Hellfires and four Infra-red Mavericks. The missiles did not provide much hitting power, even against a fishing boat. The internal guns in the Hornets could do better. As he contemplated the situation, there was a knock on his open door as his Ordnance Officer looked in.
“Yes, Gunner, come in.”
“CAG, we found a magazine here. The good news is we have some bombs.”
Wilson smiled, knowing whatever was coming next was going to pose a problem.
“And the bad news…?”
“They’re Mark 81s, sir… 250-pounders. They’ve got a slew of ‘em, but it looks like they’ve been sittin’ here for years; cobwebs everywhere, coated with dust. And no thermal coating, but we’ve got some bombs, if you need ‘em. The fins are already attached, and we found some mech fuses.”
“Okay, tell me we have laser guidance kits for them.”
“I can’t tell you that, sir, because we don’t. Our kits are for heavier stuff and don’t fit. And we really don’t have arming wires and clips. We can probably scrounge up some wires around here, but clips are a problem. We’ve got a few, but we didn’t think we’d need ‘em.”
Wilson saw LT Williams walk by. “Lieutenant!” he called out, and Williams poked his head inside.
“Yes, sir.”
“Lieutenant, we need some ordnance stuff. Fins, fuses, wires, guidance kits. Do you or the Japanese have any on the island?”
“And we need clips,” Gunner added.
Williams scratched his head. “I’ll check, sir, but the answer is probably no. Maybe we can print it for you.”
“Print?” Wilson asked.
“Yes, sir, we have a 3-D printer. We’ll make one as per sample, if you have one of whatever you need.”
“You guys have a 3-D printer on this rock?” Wilson said, incredulous but relieved.
“Yes, sir. Made in Japan, and it’s great to have out here. Only have one though.”
“Okay, Gunner, get with the lieutenant here and print some ordie stuff. I want to launch sorties with bombs ASAP.”