As fast as forty knots was, the Chinese formation could have crossed the water between the two coasts and landed its troops long before Gabby got there. Evidently, they didn’t want to, because they were still steaming in racetracks when Gabby showed up that morning.
Mitchell’s orders were simply to watch and report the movements of the Chinese formation. Loitering anywhere between forty to sixty miles off the coast, the Chinese could turn east, go to flank speed, and begin landing their troops in a few hours, anywhere from Nampo all the way up to the Chinese border. Although the eastern half of Korea was mountainous, the western coastal plain made it possible to put their troops ashore anywhere, especially in this age of helicopters and air-cushion landing craft. Mitchell was specifically charged to report immediately if the formation turned toward the Korean coast and increased speed to more than fifteen knots.
Gabby had been hurriedly fitted with an electronic intelligence collection van before she left port, and specialists were monitoring Chinese radar signals and their communications traffic down in ICC2. All comms were encoded, of course, but even the number of radio messages sent and the circuits used could be useful. In truth, they were studying how well the Chinese navy did its job. Mitchell and his crew recorded every aspect of the PLAN’s operations they could see, from launching and recovering helos to how well the Chinese ships kept position in their formation.
In the old days of the Cold War, the Soviets used to shadow American naval formations the same way. The “tattletales” were either trawlers converted to carry electronic eavesdropping equipment, or small, expendable warships. Russian doctrine was to follow the all-important NATO carrier groups, constantly reporting on their position and activities. If the transmissions ever stopped, it might be the first warning the Soviets had of a Western attack. Similarly, the first sign of a Soviet strike might be a shadowing destroyer suddenly opening fire with every weapon it had, hoping to cripple the carrier in a surprise attack.
Mitchell’s only orders were to follow and report, but one of the five Type 054A frigates was doing its best to chase him off. The frigate kept trying to “shoulder” Gabby aside. By rights, this should have been easy. Although only a little longer than Gabby, the Chinese ship had twice the mass.
Naval ships tried very hard to stay clear of each other. Even a minor ding in the hull could mean weeks or months of repairs in port, not to mention the paperwork. To shoulder another vessel, one ship would pull alongside, matching course and speed, and then slowly inch closer and closer to the other. Eventually, the ship being shouldered would have to change course or collide. It was “chicken of the sea,” although nobody ever called it that.
And there was a trick: by keeping your bow ahead of the vessel you were trying to drive off, if the two ships actually collided, the fact that the other guy’s bow struck your ship meant it was his fault — much more paperwork for him, and a propaganda victory for you. Ships attempting to shoulder another vessel always had a camera recording the action.
Mitchell didn’t cooperate, though. The formation, with nowhere particular to go, was loafing along at fifteen knots, with the US ship matching course and speed. The Chinese frigate could do twenty-seven, according to the intelligence pubs. But each time Yantai had come alongside, Mitchell had let the frigate get even with his bow and then steadily bent on more speed.
The first time, Yantai had given up after they’d reached twenty-five knots, falling back to her trailing position twenty-one hundred yards astern. After a short interval, Yantai had tried again, this time matching speed with Gabby until they reached twenty-eight and a half knots.
This was when Mitchell had really missed the bridge wing, because he would have walked out, the wind rushing over him, and studied the foreign warship, only a few dozen yards away.
The Type 054A was the newest class of frigate in the PLA Navy. The Chinese admirals must have liked them, because there were over twenty in the fleet and they were building more. Like most modern warships, she had clean lines and sloped sides, although not quite as radically as Gabby. The Type 054A was well armed for her size, with an automatic 76mm gun forward, two rotary 30mm guns aft, and two flavors of missiles — medium-range SAMs and YJ-83 antiship missiles that could reach out almost a hundred miles. Painted a pale gray, she was emblematic of the “new” Chinese navy that had appeared with the new century.
But Mitchell knew Gabby made her look like an antique. Instead of a single conventional monohull, she was a trimaran, with a center hull and two outriggers, with four waterjet propulsion units in the main hull. Ton for ton, trimarans had less of their hull in the water, which meant less drag. Her wave-piecing bow jutted out well in front of the deckhouse, which gave not only the illusion, but the reality of speed.
In fact, everything had been sacrificed to that one goal. Gabby‘s bow gun was only a 57mm, and her only other weapons were a point defense SAM, short-range Hellfire missiles, and four .50-caliber machine guns. She didn’t even carry ASW torpedoes, common on most warships. Too much weight. Besides, she didn’t have a sonar, so she wouldn’t know when to shoot one.
Racing side by side at twenty-eight — plus knots, the two ships were moving almost twice as fast as the formation, but Mitchell wouldn’t let the Chinese skipper get his bow ahead of the US ship. When he was sure that Yantai couldn’t increase her speed any more, he ordered the OOD to increase their speed to thirty-two knots, and they’d smoothly glided away from the Chinese warship.
Gabby circled back, taking station again, this time off the Chinese formation’s port beam. Mitchell had watched the frigate take up its trailing position behind them again, and imagined the conversation between her captain and the Chinese formation commander. He tried to put himself in the Chinese captain’s and the Chinese admiral’s shoes. This might look like a confrontation between ships and weapons, but it was really a contest of minds.
It must have been a short discussion, because Sontez’s report came only minutes later. “She’s launching her helicopter.”
Mitchell could see it rising from behind the frigate’s superstructure. Most warships had helicopter pads and hangars built into their stern, and used them for scouting or sub-hunting missions. Some could even carry light antiship missiles. The Type 054s carried Russian-built Kamov machines, quite handy but reminding Mitchell of an oversized light gray bug.
A helicopter might be slow compared to a jet fighter, or even most commercial aircraft, but this one was fast enough to zoom ahead of Gabby and then circle her several times.
“Probably taking pictures,” Sontez commented.
Meanwhile, Yantai had pulled alongside, matching the formation speed of fifteen knots, but didn’t seem interested in racing. Her skipper actually kept his bow back a little. He knew that bringing it even with Gabby would trigger another contest that he could not win.
“Watch him, OOD,” Mitchell cautioned.
The headset beeped. “Captain, the formation just turned east, new heading two seven five degrees true.”
“Yantai is closing!” Sontez was almost screaming.
Mitchell was ready. “All ahead flank! Hard left rudder! All hands brace for collision!” Booth hit the collision alarm and the warning sound filled his ears. The Chinese ship was probably close enough to hear it as well.