Kristen took her seat and thanked Gibbs as he delivered a cup of tea.
“Can I get you anything else, Miss?” he asked. “I didn’t see you having any pizza.” Gibbs had been mothering Kristen more than usual since her incursion with the SEALs into North Korea. But she could hardly fault him for looking out for her. He’d been the closest thing to a friend she’d had since arriving on board.
“I’m fine, thank you, Mister Gibbs,” Kristen replied with a pleasant smile for the selfless steward. She then sat quietly and listened as some in the wardroom argued the current crisis in Iran was another ruse, whereas others thought it an attempt by Iran simply to drive up the price of oil. This was hardly a difficult prediction. If access to the Persian Gulf was threatened, oil markets would go berserk.
Mike Massanelli and Adam Carpenter were discussing what they thought was the excellent possibility that the appearance of the USS Virginia and the HMS Audacious in the Strait, two of the most powerful submarines in the world, would help settle things down.
The USS Virginia was the first of America’s newest class of fast-attack boats designed in a post-Cold War world. Breaking with the traditional Cold War design for US hunter-killer submarines like the Seawolf, the Virginias were designed specifically for the shallow regions of the oceans near the littorals. It was in these regions where post-Cold War strategists believed submarines would need to operate, and the Virginias were the answer. Although not as fast, powerfully armed, or as deep diving as the Seawolf, the Virginias were still state of the art machines of war capable of holding their own against any enemy. It seemed obvious to Massanelli and Carpenter that by the time the Seawolf reached the region near the Strait, the Iranians would be suitably cowed and the waterway open to international traffic as always.
The captain entered, and everyone came to their feet. As usual, Brodie waved them back down before taking his customary seat and accepting a cup of coffee from Gibbs, who’d also delivered a cup for Graves. Gibbs conveniently ignored the other officers, who chuckled at the steward’s jealous guardianship of his favorites. Gibbs excused himself after attending to Brodie, and then the captain got down to business.
A map of the Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz appeared on the screen. “All right, let’s get right to it. You’re each aware of its significance. It is the only sea channel in and out of the Persian Gulf. Through this narrow waterway passes over seventeen million barrels of crude oil per day.” Brodie paused to let the staggering figure sink in.
“Fifteen super tankers pass through this choke point every day carrying forty percent of the world’s seaborne petroleum bound for America, Europe, China, Japan, and elsewhere. It is the literal energy lifeline for the industrialized world.” Brodie walked over to the SMART Board and tapped the image. “Close off this pipeline and the lights go out all over America and the Western world.”
The assembled officers understood the significance of the Persian Gulf and the Western world’s need for Middle Eastern oil. This unquenchable thirst for oil was the driving force behind much of the United States’ foreign policy in the region and why America had a huge military presence in the Gulf. Usually a carrier battle group was never far from the area, but the North Korean ruse had seen to this nicely.
“In addition, we still have thousands of personnel in the Gulf plus tens of thousands of contractors in Iraq who receive their basic daily needs of food, fuel and other supplies on cargo ships passing through the Strait. Meaning, in the most basic terms, if we allow the Islamic Republic to cut off the Strait to our shipping, we risk economic disaster at home and military disaster here.”
There were no logisticians in the room, but they all had an adequate understanding of supply to know the American personnel in the region required tens of thousands of tons per day of everything from food and water, to ammunition, repair parts, fuel, and medical supplies. Such a vast quantity of supplies could only be delivered by cargo ships. A military airlift might be able to provide some of their needs but could never replace what a lone cargo ship could deliver in a single trip.
“The Strait itself is shaped like an inverted “V” with the Islamic Republic to the north and Oman to the south. Now, for some years, Iran has tried to get Oman to join them in closing off the Strait to international shipping since half the waterway is in Oman’s hands. But Oman has always resisted, and international shipping lanes are now all in Oman’s territorial waters.”
Brodie motioned toward Graves, who advanced the image on the screen to show a small, narrow peninsula jutting into the southern part of the Straits of Hormuz. “Unfortunately, Oman only owns a small sliver of land called the Musandam Peninsula which sticks out into the Strait creating the inverted “V” shape and the navigational difficulties in these narrow waters. Besides the fact the Peninsula is only ten miles wide and thirty miles long, its defense is further complicated by the fact it is not contiguous with the rest of Oman. The government of Oman cannot easily reinforce the small garrison without our help, and they have relied on the US Navy to make certain the Iranians cannot cross the narrow Strait and seize this tiny Peninsula.”
“Except we ain’t in the area,” Ski nearly groaned in disgust.
Brodie nodded in agreement. “Except we aren’t in the area. That’s exactly right.”
“What happens if they gain and can hold onto this peninsula, sir?” Martin asked.
“Then the Iranians will have what they want, overwhelming strategic control of the Strait,” Brodie said simply. He motioned toward Graves and a new satellite image appeared which showed a close up of a beach area.
“This is the southern coast of Jazireh-ye Qeshm, the largest of many islands positioned inside this strategic choke point controlled by the Islamic Republic. This image was taken yesterday, about twenty-three hours ago.”
Kristen pushed her glasses up onto her nose and leaned forward slightly, looking at the image. “What are those boats?” she asked, not recognizing them.
“That is the first of currently three problems we’re facing,” he said. “Those are fifteen Russian Zubr class hovercraft designed for landing up to five hundred troops or an equivalent load of other military equipment such as tanks, armored personnel carriers, surface-to-air missile batteries…” he paused as he shook his head at the problem. “I assume you recognize the significance of these fifteen hovercraft positioned so close to the Musandam Peninsula.”
The slide changed and showed an image of a different beach area and the Zubr Hovercraft on it. “This image was taken this morning on the western shore of the Musandam Peninsula. Last night, following what the Iranians claimed was an Oman commando raid on an Iranian island garrison in the Strait, the Islamic Republic responded with a massive invasion. It’s believed that since the initial assault wave, the Islamic Republic has transferred nearly thirty thousand troops across the Strait and has seized the entire peninsula.” Brodie paused to let the seriousness of the situation sink in. “As we speak, they’re ferrying a steady stream of equipment across the narrow waterways including hundreds of Russian made tanks, surface-to-air missile batteries, everything they need to create a bastion.”
“Mother of God,” Andrew Stahl whispered, knowing this surprise attack would have to be answered quickly before the oil lifeline so critical to the West was cut.
“I’m afraid this is only the half of it,” Brodie told him. “Although the State Department is burning up the diplomatic channels to bring international pressure against Iran to withdraw their forces, the Russian Federation submitted a written letter to the United Nations General Assembly today in which they have officially recognized Iran’s claim to the Peninsula.”