In a constant effort to provide a smooth and safe flight, the pilots closely monitored the airspeed and rate of descent as they prepared to execute the ILS approach.
Hand-flying the airplane, the seasoned transport-aircraft commander kept the electronic localizer and glide slope "nailed" from the outer marker to the point where he saw the approach lights, then began the transition to the landing attitude.
The gleaming presidential Boeing 747-200B emerged from the ragged overcast and made a typically smooth Air Force One landing and rollout. The bird colonel occupying the left seat in the cockpit exited the wet runway and slowly taxied the jet toward the ramp space designated for the most famous plane in the free world.
In the combination conference and family dining room, the President sat with his senior staffers, including his Chief of Staff, the Secretaries of State and Defense, the National Security Advisor, the top deputy of the National Security Council, and the Chairman of the Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board, who happened to be a former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The conversation had been spirited and to the point during the last half of the flight.
Although a large delegation of dignitaries and well-wishers had assembled on the parking ramp to greet the Commander in Chief of the United States, the President and his senior advisers were in no hurry to leave the warmth and comfort of the blue and white jumbo jet.
The President hunched over the table and stared at his Defense Secretary. "Bryce, I think it's time to take off the gloves and stand our ground. We now have confirmation that Kitty Hawk was torpedoed, and the Joint Chiefs suspect that Bremerton may have suffered the same fate."
Mellongard, who looked abnormally pale, shrugged. "What do you suggest, sir?"
"Goddammit, you're the defense expert!" the President flared. "You've been in constant contact with the Chairman and the Joint Chiefs, and we have spent the past two and a half hours discussing the issues — from Kitty Hawk to the missing submarine. I want a recommendation from you, for Christ's sake!"
A few seconds passed while Mellongard considered reminding the President that it was he who was responsible for the logjam in the crowded strait and the ensuing military tragedies that had occurred. The volatile situation in the Strait of Malacca was exactly the set of circumstances Mellongard had worked so diligently to avoid.
"Sir, I think we need to proceed cautiously, and consider withdrawing the rest of our forces from the strait before the situation becomes more—"
"Admiral," the President suddenly blurted to his Chairman of the Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board, "even though you aren't the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs anymore, you're a military expert and former submariner. I'd like a straight opinion from you."
"Yes, sir," the Admiral responded while he avoided glancing at the Defense Secretary.
"In your estimation," the President said evenly, "what happened to our submarine?"
The Admiral furrowed his brow and put on his eyeglasses, then looked at his notes for a second.
"Mr. President, I'm convinced the boat — or what's left of it — is lying on the bottom of the strait."
A hush settled over the conference room before the President finally spoke.
"Explain to us how you arrived at your conclusion." "First, the strait isn't deep enough to crush the hull, so we can eliminate that possibility."
The President nodded.
"Secondly, if they experienced a major emergency, the Captain would have surfaced and made contact with the Kitty Hawk battle group and COMSUBPAC at Pearl Harbor."
"What if it was a catastrophic emergency," the President suggested, "like being hit by a torpedo?"
The retired Admiral leaned back and mulled the question for a moment. "If, for whatever reason, the submarine was damaged to the point it couldn't surface, the crew could send up a radio buoy, along with other means of pinpointing their position and situation."
"Don't they have a way of escaping from the sub?" Bud Tidwell asked.
The Admiral turned to the Secretary of State. "Yes, sir. If the boat is resting in reasonably shallow water, they could use the escape trunk."
The President leaned on the conference table and stared at the Admiral for a few seconds. "Since we don't know the location of the sub, we don't know the depth of the water."
"Unfortunately, that's true, sir."
The Admiral moved his coffee cup to the side and looked at the President. "That's what leads me to believe the boat and all hands perished from some catastrophic incident, which could have been a torpedo. What really happened is only speculation at this point, and we may never know the truth."
A female Marine lieutenant colonel quietly eased through the entrance to the compartment and leaned near Bryce Mellongard's ear, then retraced her steps and closed the door.
All eyes focused on the Defense Secretary.
Mellongard sagged and then wanly looked up at the brooding President. "Kitty Hawk is sinking and the Captain has ordered his crew to abandon ship."
The President gave him a blank stare while the magnitude of the unfolding disaster became more clear. He was appalled at the loss of the supercarrier, and his personal self-defense mechanism took over to protect his mounting anxiety.
"Bryce," the President said with his jaw clenched, "I want another carrier in the strait as soon as possible, and I want an all-out ASW effort. Understand?"
Mellongard, stinging from the embarrassment of being treated like he was willfully neglecting his responsibilities, became cold and caustic.
"Mr. President," SECDEF said with unusual conviction, "I would strongly advise against further military involvement in the strait."
The President's hoarse voice cut through the air like a razor-sharp sword. "Secretary Mellongard, the subject is not open for discussion."
Mellongard's eyes widened and his face turned dark red as he faced the possibility of being relieved from his position. He had to keep his mouth shut and comply if he wanted to salvage his political future.
"Yes, sir," he said as steadily as possible.
"The next incident" — the President pointed his index finger for emphasis—"whether it's labeled accidental or not, is to be met with swift and decisive retaliation."
Mellongard returned the President's glare. "I will see to it, you can rest assured."
"If our ASW people," the President went on, "detect anything foreign under the water, I want it sunk. I want a thorough and ongoing submarine hunt."
"I fully understand," Mellongard replied as boldly as possible, then thought about the best way to cover his ass if things didn't go well. I'll use a leak to let the press know I was against the President's actions in the strait. We're headed for a shooting war…"
"We've lost a carrier and a submarine," the President said firmly, "and I'm not going to stand by and see our military credibility go in the tank."
He looked at the rest of his staff, then turned back to Mellongard. "Not when I'm getting ready to confront the Japanese about their growing military strength."
Windblown after the helicopter ride from Kitty Hawk, Rear Admiral Isaac Landesman stood on the bridge of the Aegis guided-missile cruiser and watched the last of the sailors and officers depart the blazing carrier.
Captain Carl Witowski, who remained onboard the huge flattop until he was assured that all hands had left the ship, was the last man to leave the doomed carrier.
Only a small area of the flight deck near the bow was visible to Landesman. The rest of the listing ship was burning furiously and the stern was beginning to settle lower and lower in the water. The once mighty carrier would soon be relegated to a watery grave.
Landesman followed the flight of the helicopter carrying "links" Witowski and reflected on the incidents that had led to the order to abandon ship. Who fired the two torpedoes? And why? If none of the ASW equipment detected the torpedoes, they must have been stealth technology. And the Iranians don't have that capability…