”We would be happy to hear whatever you suggest,” the mayor said. “Though of course we must make the final decisions. I will be talking to the president shortly, by the way.”
“Absolutely. Well, to address your location first. It might be desirable to place your headquarters somewhere with better transport, better communications, and isolated to some extent from crowds… to prevent incidents. That would make your choice the ferry terminal, the container port, or the airport.”
“On Hulhule Island,” Jaleel said, placing a finger on the map. The Male International strip was across a narrow strait to the north.
“Um, might be wise. More room to stock supplies. Better security. Better communications. Most of your early relief shipments will come in by air anyway. I can arrange helicopter transport if you like. Shuttle you over, help set up a command post, and let you get a look at the damage.”
Jaleel agreed quietly, saying he’d planned to go there himself, but the island government hadn’t fully executed their disaster plan yet. A policeman in British-style khaki came in and handed the colonel a message. Jaleel sighed, scratching his beard. “We can’t forget the other islands. This is from Kandolhudoo. Apparently it was hit hard, just about destroyed… the plantations, the tourist hotels, fishing villages… we are getting reports in by radio. Would it be possible to assist them as well?”
Dan said they’d do what they could, and repeated that more help was on its way. He laid out what he could do today: send a firefighting team to the oil terminal, supply antibiotics and plasma substitute to the hospital, and send rations and water to a distribution point at the ferry terminal via the ships’ boats. Red Hawk could help the islands’ own aircraft start transferring medical, sanitary, and security personnel. The water depth at the ferry terminal, unfortunately, wasn’t enough for a ship to come alongside, but there was a berth at a small freight-handling facility on the other side of the island that Stonecipher thought they might get Tippecanoe alongside.
Dan sipped bottled water, feeling overwhelmed. Outside, the shouting was growing louder, merging with an ominous-sounding chant. “Okay, we’ll head back now. I’m going to leave you this radio, all right? Or you can contact us on — what are you using for your emergency comms?”
“HF only. Everything else has gone down. That is all we have with the mainland and with the southern islands.”
“Uh-huh. Okay, we’ll get to them, but it looks like your main population center here is where we need to do the most work, plus getting things set up over at the airport.”
Jaleel nodded, as did the mayor, and Dan added, “One other thing: we’ve got the Indians en route, the French — but someone’s going to have to be in charge, or we’ll be fighting each other for pier space and use of the landings. I suggest you pick someone to coordinate the naval relief effort.”
They conferred briefly, the woman in the bright red sari dominating the discussion. She ended it by turning to him. “I think you have nominated yourself for that position, Captain. If you will accept it.”
He invited Jaleel and the mayor to go up in Red Hawk for a quick look-see. Strafer flew them south first, following the chain of reefs and islands. From on high, they were pearls in a cobalt sea. From lower, the level of destruction, in villages dotted hop-skip-jump wherever a coral outcrop rose a foot or two above high tide, was sobering. People waved desperately as they flew over, but all he could do was circle, to show at least that he’d noticed them, then fly on.
As they headed back, Staurulakis reported two Indian coast guard ships had arrived and were proceeding to the container terminal. Dan asked her to warn them that he intended to put Tippecanoe there, as she had frozen stores and other food. The exec said she’d pass that word, but that the Indians didn’t seem inclined to listen.
Male receded down the port side, and they landed at the international airport. The end of the single strip had been overwashed, but the terminal and hangar/repair buildings looked undamaged. Strafer went to check out the fuel situation as Dan, Stonecipher, and Jaleel went into the terminal. It was thronged with strandees, German, Dutch, Indian; all flights had been diverted or canceled. Fortunately they had water, food, emergency generators, and toilets, so aside from temporary inconvenience they’d be all right. Dan reassured them help was on the way, and asked for doctors or nurses. He got three volunteers. He dropped them and Jaleel back at the soccer field, then sent Red Hawk back to the airport, to transport medical personnel and supplies to the outlying islands as soon as the teams were ready.
The messages were piling up back in CIC. He waded in with a tray and a Diet Pepsi beside him. Pulling a sample ROE for humanitarian assistance off the net, he modified it and put it out, authorizing use of force only for self-protection and reminding all hands that they had to respect local customs, and could not seize personal property for redistribution. He included this as an attachment to an update message to PaCom, along with the titles and names of everyone he’d dealt with, to give whoever took over from him a head start. Then he went to the map again. Supplies would come in at two locations, the container terminal and the airfield. They’d have to be distributed by helo and boat, and the airfield won on both counts.
Dave Branscombe came down to discuss comms with the airfield and the shortwave links with the outlying islands. They settled on a coordination net for the seaborne relief efforts. Dan said to clear it with the Maldivians, then set a watch on that frequency and on the harbor net as well.
The harbormaster; that’s who he’d forgotten. He got him on the radio for a discussion about water depths, the ferry terminal, connections with the airport. The man warned him about bringing weapons ashore, and mentioned pigs as well. Dan said he didn’t have any pigs aboard, and that his crews would wear sidearms for self-protection. If he didn’t like that, he could take it up with Colonel Jaleel.
In the middle of this Mills came in with the news that the Indians were on Rescue and Coordination asking to talk. After some back and forth with their senior skipper, Dan convinced the guy to accept him as the on-scene commander, subject to Jaleel’s direction as host country representative. The Indians had loaded basic food and medical supplies at Goa and gotten under way hours after the first notice of the tsunami. He asked them to finish unloading and clear the pier as quickly as possible; Tippecanoe would come alongside as soon as they cast off.
He stayed in his seat to check in on a satellite chat room set up to coordinate relief efforts, not just for his area, but for everywhere the tsunami had hit — Sumatra, Sri Lanka, the Nicobars, even Madagascar, far, far to the west. The damage stretched a quarter of the way around the globe. The first C-130s were en route, scheduled just after dusk. He confirmed runway lights and radio beacons were operational, and that fuel service would be available.
The French reported in that afternoon. Two ships, FS Mistral and FS Henaff. A check of Jane’s and the intel database told him one was an antisubmarine corvette, which wouldn’t be of much use in this situation, but the other was a dock landing ship with a heavy helo detachment — ideal for getting aid ashore quickly. After a call to Jaleel, who sounded exhausted, Dan phoned the French commander back, gave him the coordination net frequency, and asked him to take charge of relief to the atolls to the north, Faadhippolhu, Miladhunmadulu, and Thiladhunmathee, with a zone of responsibility from 4°45′ north to 7° north.