Chase whistled. “This is from a drone?”
“Correct. You’ll be able to control up to three of them at a time. They’re small quad-copters. They can give you real-time battlefield intelligence, increasing your situational awareness. Or… you can select attack mode.”
He demonstrated, commanding one of the overhead drones to attack a target twenty-five yards away. Chase and the other SEALs glanced up as they heard buzzing overhead, and then the target — a wooden post in the middle of an empty field — exploded in red smoke.
“Oh shit. This is crazy.”
They spent the next few days training on how to use the drones in combat situations.
The unit was the cream of the crop. It was professionally satisfying to be assigned to them, but also maddening to be here INCONUS while a war was going on in Central America. Every few days the unit’s intelligence officer would provide a TS-level brief on the status of the war. Today’s information was grim.
“Russian military forces are on high alert. Their strategic bombers at Engels-2 have been forward deployed to northern Russia. There are also indications that several of their submarines have increased their activity level off the US east coast. They may be providing intel to the Chinese.”
“They’re probably listening to this meeting,” quipped one of the SEALs.
Another said, “Hey, tell the Russians to send over Kournikova and Sharapova, and I’ll give them whatever they want.”
“Da, comrade,” said the first.
The intel officer rolled her eyes. “The northernmost ships in the Chinese Atlantic fleet are now east of Brazil. Their Atlantic fleet is divided into several different surface action groups and spread out over more than one thousand nautical miles. Most of their high-value units are clustered around the three Jiaolong-class nuclear battleships that are providing air defense and ASW protection to the SAGs.”
“ETA to destination?” asked the DEVGRU’s commanding officer.
“They are expected to reach Venezuela within two weeks.”
The commanding officer said, “I am assuming that’s why all of our jets are now parked at NAS Oceana and Langley AFB? In preparation for our attack on that Chinese fleet?”
“Sir, my understanding is that Norfolk is one of the logistics hubs we are using to arm and train all of our air assets in LRASM tactics. Long Range Anti-Ship Missile. Almost all Air Force attack aircraft and just about every Navy air wing aircraft that isn’t fighting in the Pacific is here, either getting maintenance or training on the use of those missiles. They should be scattered to a number of bases and carriers soon.”
The CO said, “So it sounds like there’s going to be a big naval battle in the Caribbean.”
“That would be my guess, sir.”
The CO looked between Chase and the intel officer. “Either of you two know what our target will be?”
Both shrugged. “Negative, sir.”
“Very well. Keep going.”
The intel officer continued the brief, but Chase could feel the frustration in the room. Later, when Chase and the team were checking their gear for yet another day of urban warfare exercises, a younger SEAL approached him.
“How much longer are we going to be doing this? Why aren’t we downrange, man?”
“Wish I had a good answer.” It was all he could say.
“The Chinese are moving north through Costa Rica now. This special project isn’t gonna do us much good if we’re still here training when the Chinese arrive.”
Chase could only shrug and agree. He would say the same thing to his brother later that day.
Once per week, Chase flew to Pensacola to give and receive updates at the Silversmith HQ. The mission he and the DEVGRU operators were training for was so sensitive, the Pentagon didn’t trust its system of classified electronic communications to pass along the information. Instead, Chase and the unit intelligence officer received weekly face-to-face briefs in a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility at NAS Pensacola.
It was past midnight by the time Chase drove from their base to Naval Station Norfolk, where he would catch an 0200 military airlift command flight to Pensacola. One of several small aircraft running almost around the clock between Florida, Norfolk, and DC military bases.
The drive was peaceful, even if his ears were still ringing from the live fire training earlier that day. Now he enjoyed the empty road, and a dark sky filled with stars. He rejoiced at the thought of his sister, recently freed from a POW camp. David had arranged for them to see her in Pensacola, and Chase was grateful for that gift.
His mind turned to his other unexpected gift. His son. During downtime, instincts Chase never knew he had were now overwhelming his thoughts. His saving grace was that he had so little downtime. But now, on this long drive, he decided that he would speak with David about the boy and plan a visit, when he could. Who knew when that would be…?
Oceana Boulevard connected with 264 westbound up ahead, the highway empty this time of night. He glanced to his left as he passed Naval Air Station Oceana. Even in the dark, he could make out the rows of jets parked on the flight line. More F-18s and F-35s than he’d ever seen in one place. It was amazing so many were here, considering all of the ones that must have been deployed in the Pacific, supporting the war in Central America.
He glanced between the road and the naval air base. The grounded jets’ dark silhouettes were far from the perimeter road, but there looked to be a decent amount of activity on the flight line. Dozens — no, hundreds — of tiny LED wands were moving around the jets. Chase shook his head. The maintenance personnel must be working around the clock. The Chinese didn’t care if you had time to sleep.
Sleep. Chase rubbed his eyes and looked back to the road. He was going to sleep well on his flight to Pensacola.
A white-yellow flash lit up the sky in the direction of the naval air station.
Then another. Followed by a series of thunderous booms.
Chase stopped his car on the highway shoulder and looked toward the explosions. Yellow balls of flame mushroomed fire and smoke into the sky above the airfield. Two explosions. Then four. Then they were almost continuous. A Fourth of July grand finale.
It was sickening. Fireball after fireball. Booming echoes thundering from more than a mile away.
Right in the vicinity of the aircraft.
Chase watched the explosions for more than a minute, his mouth hanging open in horror. He was about to unbuckle and get out of his car when the flashing blue lights of a military security force truck appeared behind him.
The explosions had stopped now. Three men with rifles surrounded Chase’s car, and one indicated for him to roll down his window.
“Sir, please show us your ID.”
Chase produced his military ID, and the man looked at it before handing it back. The security men were alert, shifting their scan between Chase and their surroundings.
“Sir, we’re going to need you to move along. The highway’s going to be shut down for security reasons.”
Chase nodded. He started his car, then drove away. The military vehicle remained in the middle of the road, lights flashing. Chase thought he could hear the thunder of jet afterburners as he drove away. Maybe it was the sound of a continued attack? Driving away felt wrong, but there was nothing he could do.
Chase realized he was white-knuckling the wheel. His mind was racing, thinking about the implications of losing God knows how many advanced jets. Shit, the LRASM anti-ship missiles were there too. This was going to be bad.
Only when Chase arrived at the Naval Station Norfolk airfield did he realize the full scope of the devastation. Even in the darkness, he could see the flames and smoke rising from the Navy piers. Dozens of fires were still burning. Sirens and emergency vehicle flashing lights were everywhere, and helicopters had search lights pointed over the base.