Where another ship might have heeled over in the turn, Gabby just pivoted in the water and leapt forward, away from the frigate’s knife-sharp bow. Her trimaran hull gave her stability, but also worked against her. Because of Gabby‘s radically sloping sides, her hull projected farther out underwater than it did at the waterline. In other words, the frigate was a lot closer than it might look.
They all felt the shock through the ship’s structure; people not strapped into their seats were thrown to the deck. Rattled around in his chair, Mitchell watched on the starboard quarter camera as the flat of Yantai‘s bow slammed into the LCS’s stern, the frigate heeling over against Gabby‘s sloping hull.
The Chinese vessel righted herself immediately, but although the two ships were clear at the waterline, a grinding, scraping vibration lasted for several moments before the frigate fell astern. Mitchell could see a long gash in his ship’s thin aluminum hull along the water’s edge.
The intercom relayed, “Bridge, Engineering. We’ve got flooding in at least two of the after ballast tanks on the starboard side hull. One of the fuel tanks may have been ruptured as well. The flooding seems to be contained, but I’ve sent a damage control team to verify our condition. The propulsion plant is still capable of answering all bells.”
“Very well. Have the XO inspect the damage.” Mitchell acknowledged the report with relief. The damage seemed to be contained. It could have been much worse. Fortunately, the starboard outrigger took the brunt of the blow. There wasn’t a lot of equipment in there to get hurt. The diesels and gas turbines were buried deep in the center hull, and there were no screws or rudders to foul, so as long as that damaged section of hull held together, they were in good shape. He checked the pit log. Their speed was still building, now close to forty knots.
“Any problems, JOOD?”
Petty Officer Booth replied, “She’s having a little trouble staying on course, Captain. And she’s a bit sluggish in answering the helm.”
Understandable, Mitchell thought, considering the starboard outrigger had just been pierced and partially flooded. The extra weight would also slow them down.
He ordered, “Bring us to two seven five degrees,” then pressed the intercom. “ICC1, Bridge. Make sure all this is getting sent to Seventh Fleet. What’s the Chinese ETA to Korean territorial waters?”
“At twenty-two knots they’ll reach the twelve-mile line in two and a half hours. If they stay on this course they’ll be off the mouth of the Taeryong River delta. Looks like the Chinese marines are going to try landing on the southern bank. It’s on your display, Skipper.”
Mitchell checked the screen to his right. From the south bank of the Taeryong River delta it was only twenty-five kilometers to the spot where Chinese bridging had been seen on satellite imagery — on the other side of the Chongchon River.
He carefully marked a spot on the chart just outside the mouth of the delta and asked, “What’s our best course and ETA to this location?”
After a moment’s pause, a line connected the symbol showing their current position to the new destination. “Course zero four eight, two and a half hours at flank, sir.”
“Petty Officer Booth, new course zero four eight, all ahead flank.”
Mitchell used the time to personally inspect the damage to the starboard outrigger. He met his executive officer at the access hatch. The XO quickly ran down the list. The two aft ballast tanks were breached and completely flooded. Number three fuel tank was leaking, and he had already ordered the engineering officer of the watch to transfer what fuel was left to another tank. Mitchell then followed his XO to the impact site. There he saw the thin aluminum plating high above the waterline had been deformed inward, but had held. The more severe damage was below.
Sure that his ship was seaworthy, Mitchell then took the time to make a report by voice to Seventh Fleet. After that, he made the rounds — a casual inspection, but an inspection nonetheless. The only place he didn’t visit was the signals intercept van and ICC2. His security clearance wasn’t high enough. The cryptological tech in charge did report they had been rattled, but not harmed by the jolt, and he’d be very grateful if that didn’t happen anymore.
Smiling, Mitchell replied he’d do what he could, and returned to the bridge by way of the flight deck. At forty-one knots, the wind buffeted and tore at his clothes, but he stayed for a while, taking in the horizon, before going back inside. There was nothing to see, though. The Chinese were still too far astern.
Although they weren’t in sight, Mitchell knew the Chinese could see Gabby, both by radar from their scout helicopters and by her own radar emissions. There was no need to conceal her location. In fact, he was doing everything possible to broadcast his presence and precise location. Often warfare was about stealth and surprise. Today, Mitchell was doing his best to make sure there were no surprises.
The Fire Scout drone helicopter they’d launched earlier had taken over the trailing role. Its radar, data linked to Gabby, showed the Chinese formation still on course, at twenty-two knots. The escorting frigates and destroyers could do over thirty, but the big amphibious ships weren’t built for speed. Twenty-two was the best they could do, so that had to be the formation’s maximum speed.
The drone kept well clear. Its radar had the range to see the formation from thirty miles out, and the radar image was sharp enough to allow Mitchell to identify individual ships by class. He’d placed the drone so far out to make sure the Chinese wouldn’t think it was a threat. It was still close enough for the Chinese to shoot it out of the sky if they’d wanted to. That fact that they hadn’t was hopeful.
There was no “fog of war” in this meeting. Thanks to the Fire Scout drone, Mitchell could figure the exact moment when the Chinese formation would appear on the western horizon, just over twenty miles away.
He’d placed Gabby two miles inside Korean territorial waters, which meant the Chinese had nineteen miles to decide if they were ready to start a fight with the United States. Aircraft from the two sides had sparred over the Korean Peninsula, but that had been more chance meetings than deliberate engagements. This time, if they wanted to land their troops, they’d have to deliberately sink an American warship.
Gabby was at battle stations, which meant a total of eight people on the bridge and in ICC1. Mitchell spent most of the time while they waited in his chair. Pacing the bridge would just make everyone else nervous.
The entire crew understood their purpose, but Mitchell explained over the ship’s announcing system, “If we have to shoot, I’m going to wait until the Chinese formation’s a mile inside Korean waters. I’ll angle the ship to present a narrow aspect while keeping one of the Hellfire modules clear, and I’ll take her to maximum speed. Be prepared for sharp maneuvers. If there’s time, I’ll designate the target, but if they fire first, just concentrate everything on the nearest ship for as long as we can.” He paused for a moment, and added. “Good luck to us all, and God bless the US Navy.”
Lieutenant Sontez, the OOD for general quarters, asked, “Do you think they’ll let us get close enough to shoot?”
Mitchell laughed. “They won’t waste any missiles on us. Those destroyers each have an automatic 130mm gun forward. Effective range is thirteen miles. Since our 57’s and the Hellfires’ ranges are about half that, they have a six-mile margin. But they’ll be shooting at a fast, sharply maneuvering target.”