That wasn’t to say that it was all bad. Sometimes separation made the heart grow fonder. Sometimes separation lead to… well… permanent separation. Relationship details were the subject of many conversations between shipmates. Not Boyle, though. His happy marriage was a private one. He missed his wife and kids dearly, and he had planned on seeing them soon. Would that still happen?
The Ford’s excursion was only supposed to last a few days. But a lot had changed in the past few weeks. Now, Boyle had a different boss, a new command, and no clue when he would next see his wife and kids.
The commodore said, “Commander, I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. The admiral’s brief is in thirty-five minutes. We just need to put the finishing touches on this, and then I’ll be with you.”
“No problem, sir.”
The commodore was in charge of all of the ships in the carrier strike group, with several notable exceptions. He was not in charge of the shotgun ship — in this case, the USS Michael Monsoor. And he was not in charge of the carrier itself — the USS Ford. Both of those were commanded by men who were equal in rank to him — O-6s, or US Navy captains. The commodore was in charge of all of the other warships in company — the destroyers and littoral combat ships, the Navy’s newest version of frigates. Were they calling them frigates now, or were they still littoral combat ships? Boyle couldn’t keep it straight anymore.
Boyle kept his mouth shut for now, but what he saw surprised him. The carrier strike group was headed towards Pearl Harbor, just like he’d expected. But there were two paths. A contingent of ships labeled SAG 131 was headed on a southwestern course.
There were several three-letter identifiers underneath the SAG 131 symbol. One of them had the letters FAR. Farragut. James watched carefully as the commodore, his deputy, and the two lieutenants walked through the brief. It looked like their surface action group was to be made up of destroyers and littoral combat ships, and one supply ship. They were headed to the South Pacific.
For what, he wasn’t sure.
“Attention on deck!”
The members of the admiral’s conference room on the USS Ford rose from their seats. Boyle stood just in front of one of the many seats lining the wall. Dozens of squadron COs and staff officers stood with him, surrounding the conference table. The seats at the center table were reserved for the most senior officers. Mostly O-6s. Admiral Manning marched in with his chief of staff and admiral’s aide in tow, saying, “Seats.”
The room sat in silent unison.
A Navy captain in digital utilities stood at the front of the room. His warfare pin hinted to Boyle that he was the admiral’s new information warfare commander. This meant that he oversaw the collection and dissemination of intelligence for the strike group.
“Admiral Manning, good afternoon. As many of you now know, we have recently received specific intelligence that points to a growing Chinese naval threat. Over the past twenty-four hours, tensions have escalated in the Western Pacific theater. So far, North Korea’s response to the bombing raid on their nuclear site has been merely verbal. But both North Korean military and Chinese military assets are on high alert. And there is now a Chinese naval unit that is suspected to be transiting east of the second island chain.”
There were murmurs around the room. Some were hearing confirmation of these events for the first time.
Admiral Manning said, “This is the group of merchant ships?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Continue, please.” The room quieted.
The briefer began going through slides. A large map of the Pacific theater. Large gray circles overlaid parts of the map as a way to depict the ranges of surface-launched missiles.
“The Office of Naval Intelligence has indications that Chinese naval vessels are on high alert and may even now be intending open hostilities towards US naval forces in the Western Pacific. We believe that the merchant ships transiting the South Pacific are the first wave of a Chinese supply convoy.”
“Do they have escorts?” asked the CAG.
“We don’t believe so.”
More murmurs throughout the room.
Admiral Manning pointed towards the screen on the far end of the conference table. “Do we have a more accurate update on Chinese submarine locations?”
“Sir, both ship and submarine locations are now at least twenty-four hours time-late.” The information warfare commander’s voice was painfully apologetic.
“Very well — Commodore, what’s your plan for ASW?”
“Sir, we’ve asked for maritime air support round the clock from here on out once we get to Hawaii. And I’m working with HSM-74 to set up continuous helicopter support. The carrier strike group will also have a protective screen of destroyers looking for submarine threats at all times.”
“You’re about to take some of my destroyers from me, aren’t you?”
The commodore gave an awkward smile. “Sir, the surface action group would be taking many of the destroyers south, but…”
“The carrier is the high-value unit, Scott. Let’s make sure we prioritize it as such.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We can talk this when we get to your plans.”
“Yes, sir.” The commodore looked at his lieutenants sitting together on the wall. They were red-faced, realizing that they might have to rework all the plans they had just spent the past six hours making.
Admiral Manning turned to his left. “CAG, we’re going to need to place a priority on over-the-horizon surveillance. If our satellites and drone support are diminished, we need organic capability to tell us where the bad guys are and what they’re doing.”
“Yes, sir. We’ve already begun planning for this.”
“What’s the status on plussing up the air wing to full strength?”
“Sir, the COD’s been flying round the clock bringing in support personnel and parts. We have scheduled V-22 hits while we’re in range of North Island. We have a squadron of F-35Cs aboard — as well as Growlers and the Screwtops. But we need more helicopters and super hornets, sir. We’re about half strength compared to what our normal complement should be.”
The admiral said, “What help is needed?”
“Sir, it might help if PACFLEET was encouraged…”
“Very well. I’ll make the calls after we’re done.” The admiral looked at Captain Stewart. “Will you be able to fit in a day of taking on a few more squadrons over the next week?”
The CAG said, “Admiral, we’ll need to get close to San Diego if we’re going to take on more helicopters.”
The admiral frowned. “We don’t have time for that, I’m afraid. Remind me, what do we have aboard now?”
“We have exactly four Romeos and five Sierras, sir.” The CAG looked along the wall of the room. He asked a commander in a flight suit, “If we can’t get more helicopters, what do you need to conduct twenty-four-hour operations?”