Read Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 03 Online
Authors: Sky Masters (v1.1)
“Yes, sir,” Curtis acknowledged.
“What else have you got for me,
General?”
Curtis cleared his throat. “Our
strategic forces are in full readiness, so if this is some sort of prelude to
an all-out attack against the United States, we’re ready, sir.” Curtis glanced
at the Navy captain seated near the door, keeping the “football.”
The President disliked having the
football around—he had once told the press that he likened it to the Grim
Reaper, with scythe in hand, following him everywhere he went—but in this he
had no choice.
“Well,” Taylor grumbled, “I guess
the question of whether this is a prelude or not will be answered once we have
more information, won’t it, General? This PACER SKY thing saw who launched the
missile, didn’t it?”
“Not exactly, sir,” Curtis replied.
“The NIRTSat—part of the PACER SKY program—saw the nuclear explosion, but we’re
trying to keep a lid on that. As you know, we’ve been monitoring the situation
between the Chinese and the Philippines since that original skirmish. But
because of our past association with the Philippines, we didn’t want it to
appear as if we were monitoring anyone—or feeding anyone intelligence
information. Still, we do know, thanks to PACER SKY, exactly which ships were
in the area. SAC analysts have concluded that only the Chinese could have
launched the weapon.”
“Well, then, that brings us to the
bigger picture, doesn’t it?” the President said. “I’ve been briefed on the shit
going down in the Philippines for some time. And you people tell me the
Communists are running rampant in the outlying provinces and that if Mikaso
kicks the damned bucket we could lose all ties to the Philippines—our stopover
and resupply privileges, our radar sites, our listening posts, our practice
bombing ranges. I was also briefed on the skirmish a few months ago between the
Chinese and the Philippines, but it was characterized as nothing more than a
little tiff. When a fucking nuclear bomb goes off, gentlemen, it’s not just a
little tiff. Now what the hell is going on here? Is it the start of a major
war, an illegal test by some country, or an accident?”
Director of Central Intelligence
Kenneth Wayne said, “An accident, sir, seems the only plausible explanation.
The Chinese Navy could certainly overtake the Philippine Navy without having to
resort to nuclear weapons. Also, we’ve detected only one explosion, which tells
us there was no nuclear exchange. Of course,” the CIA director said, lighting a
pipe, “it also could have been a military response by the Chinese, but a
response by . . . say, a lone wolf, and not necessarily the Chinese government
itself.”
“Lone wolf?” the President asked,
raising his eyebrows. “You mean some nutjob in command of a ship?”
The CIA director shrugged his
shoulders. “Entirely possible. Not a nutjob, per se, but simply a commander who
panicked. But I’d put my money on it being a simple accident.”
“JCS doesn’t agree with the DCI’s
estimation, sir,” Curtis said. The look the President, as well as Wayne, gave
him could have chilled a polar bear. “We don’t discount the DCI’s theory, but
we have evidence of another possibility that I feel it would be more prudent to
act upon.” The President had a very slight—but very noticeable—exasperated
frown—he didn’t like being told that he was wrong. He rolled his hand as if to
say, “Get on with it.” Curtis said, “My staff feels that this attack may be a
prelude to an all-out attack and invasion of the Philippines by China ...”
Everyone in the room sat up. Voices started coming at Curtis and at President
Taylor all at once.
“Ridiculous . . .”
“Totally off the mark . . .”
“They’d never try it. . .”
Curtis pressed on. “All I have is
speculation, sir, but we’re forgetting China has long historical claims to many
of the Philippine Islands and the fact that ethnic Chinese make up a great
majority of the Philippine population. Couple that with someone like Daniel
Teguina, who has strong Communist ties, and you’ve got the makings of a real
land-grab.” Voices of dissent were heard from the CIA director, the Secretary
of Defense, the National Security Advisor. The President cleared his
throat—loudly. All heads turned to him. “Look, we can speculate all we want,
but without any information, speculation’s not going to do us a damned bit of
good.” He turned to the DCI. “No word from Manila yet? Or Mikaso?”
“All lines are still jammed, sir.
Satellite and HF networks are still down.”
This got a grunt from the President.
“And what about China? Have we heard what they think about all this?”
DCI Kenneth Wayne said, “We’ve got
calls in to everyone, sir, including Premier Cheung.”
The President turned to Tom Preston,
his Secretary of Defense. Preston had been silent so far. “Thomas, what do you
think?”
“Well, this is an extremely
vulnerable region, sir. And we’ve lost a lot of influence there since ...
leaving. So I think we’ve got to do at least an on-site military inspection. A
task force sent from Hawaii or Japan would be sufficient and,” in partial
acknowledgment to Curtis, he added, “would deter any possible aggression, if
that were going to happen.”
“Uh-huh.” The President nodded. “We
do have ships patrolling the area all the time, right? So we send a few in,
check it out, keep them on station for a while, and get the CIA in as well.
Meanwhile I can sell everyone—for the time being—on this being an accident.”
“Excuse me, sir, but there are
several standard OPLAN responses that should be implemented, and the Joint
Chiefs of Staff have a few plans we’d like to offer as suggested responses,”
Curtis interjected.
“You don’t think just a few
ships—say, sending one carrier group—are enough?” the President asked. “Why am
I not surprised?”
“Sir, the nuclear blast itself is
cause enough for concern. But a single twenty-kilometer nuclear device
detonated in the middle of one carrier battle group would destroy everyone and
everything within five miles, including an aircraft carrier.
“This is why the standard OPLAN
calls for the deployment of at least three carrier battle groups to the region,
along with a Marine Expeditionary Force, the Twenty-fifth Infantry Division of
the Army Western Command, and the Air Force First Air Battle Wing. They would
deploy afloat or from Okinawa or Andersen Air Force Base on Guam, as
appropriate. It is especially important these days since we have no . . .
military forces in the Philippines. Even if we don’t use three, at least two
carrier battle groups would be more appropriate.
“The only two carrier battle groups
available are two fossil-fueled carriers,
Independence
and
Ranger. Ranger
still does not
have Hornet fighter-bombers because of her accelerated decommissioning
schedule, but
Independence
is fully
combat-ready. Two nuclear carriers,
Nimitz
and
Abraham Lincoln,
are both in the
Indian Ocean at the present time, but that’s several days’ steaming time to get
back to the South China Sea. We recommend that the Marines’ landing-support
carrier
Belleau Wood
and her support
ships be deployed with the task force; they can carry about two thousand
Marines and about thirty helicopters. They can split between the two carrier
groups as necessary.” Curtis saw the President’s eyes when he mentioned the
Marines, and he added quickly, “It’s routine to send a Marine Expeditionary
Unit with such a task force, and if we’re dealing with the
Philippines
it might be necessary.”
The President still had that pained
look in his eyes, but Curtis continued nonetheless:
“Because the two carrier groups have
fewer air-to-ground attack planes, it was suggested to augment the task force
by forming the First Air Battle Wing at Andersen Air Force Base on Guam to—”
“The First—what? What the hell is
that?” the President asked with irritation.
“The First Air Battle Wing is the
new Rapid Deployment Force air combat group, sir,” Curtis explained. “According
to the current strategic force operations plan under DEFCON Three, the First
Air Battle Wing is formed upon alert notification and deployed to one of three
locations—Loring Air Force Base in Maine, Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean, or
Andersen on Guam. From these three operating locations, the Air Battle Force
can strike at any spot on the globe within twelve hours.”
“Who’s in this Air Battle Wing?”
“The wing is a collection of strike
aircraft, mostly heavy bombers—B-52s, B-lBs, F-111G, and F-15E bombers— plus
tankers, fighters, and cargo planes,” Curtis replied. “The Air Battle Force has
its own fighter escorts, its own reconnaissance and intelligence aircraft, and
its own defense-suppression aircraft—it’s a single self-contained combat unit
that can operate from remote areas over long distances on very short notice.
It—”
“Let me get this straight,” the
President said, an exasperated edge in his voice. “You want to send in two
aircraft carrier battle groups—that’s over twelve thousand men if I’m not
mistaken—plus two thousand Marines,
plus
all these B-52s and other combat aircraft?” He said the words “B- fifty-two” as
if he were uttering a curse. “Do you know something about this operation I
don’t?”
“Sir, the Joint Chiefs feel it’s
vital to act quickly, decisively, and with enough firepower into the area very
quickly. The carriers can’t get into the area for several days—”
“Enough, General,” the President
said. “I am
not
going to send all
those men and all that firepower into that area without first knowing what I
might get myself into. You can understand that, right?” He did not wait for a
response. “You said it would take a couple of days to get a couple of naval
units into the area? Fine. I’ll buy that.
“I’ll authorize
two
carrier battle groups—not three—to head toward the area where
the explosion was detected. They are to take no military action unless I
specifically authorize it. Those ships are authorized to protect themselves to
the fullest extent. I’ll also authorize a small patrol to investigate—no more
than three surface ships. Deploy radar aircraft as you see fit. But I don’t
want any massive armada steaming off the Philippine coast—they’ll think it’s a
damned invasion.
“As for the Air Battle thing, that’s
out of the question,” the President continued. “I know the Air Force has been
trying to downplay the nuclear role of the B-52 and show the world that the
mere presence of the thing doesn’t constitute the end of the world—I believe
they call it ‘desensitization’— but we’re not going to provoke the goddamned
Chinese into a full-scale conflict. God only knows where it would lead. . . .”
“Yes, sir, I understand,” Curtis
replied.
“And another thing,” the President
added. “I’m allowing you to deploy these two groups against my better judgment.
Frankly I’d prefer only one group.”
“One last request,” Curtis added
quickly.
“Yes?” The President sighed.
“I realize you don’t want the Air
Battle Force involved yet, but I would like permission to deploy the STRAT-
FOR—”
“The what?”
Curtis knew that the President knew
what he was talking about. “The Strategic Force. The advance team for the Air
Battle Force. I’d like to deploy them for reconnaissance operations in the
area.”
“And what would you do with the
STRATFOR if you got it?” the President asked warily.
“We’d conduct long-range
reconnaissance and probe missions from Guam, using E-3C radar planes, RC-135
reconnaissance planes, and EC-135 communications planes—General Tyler of SAC
has a team standing by ready to go. The STRATFOR also takes officers and
engineers from the Air Battle Force to help set up support facilities— this is
especially important now that we have aircraft like the B-2 bomber in
inventory.”
The President mulled this over. “Uh
huh. And then what? What’d be next?”
Curtis pressed on. “Then, if the
situation warranted, and you, of course, felt the time was appropriate, we’d
deploy the First Air Battle Wing. This is important because they’d be an
integrated force of bombers, fighters, and support aircraft to protect the
naval forces and clear a path for further operations.”