Red Phoenix Burning (35 page)

Gabby
had been hurriedly fitted with an electronic intelligence collection van before she left port, and specialists were monitoring Chinese radar signals and their communications traffic down in ICC2. All comms were encoded, of course, but even the number of radio messages sent and the circuits used could be useful. In truth, they were studying how well the Chinese navy did its job. Mitchell and his crew recorded every aspect of the PLAN’s operations they could see, from launching and recovering helos to how well the Chinese ships kept position in their formation.

In the old days of the Cold War, the Soviets used to shadow American naval formations the same way. The “tattletales” were either trawlers converted to carry electronic eavesdropping equipment, or small, expendable warships. Russian doctrine was to follow the all-important NATO carrier groups, constantly reporting on their position and activities. If the transmissions ever stopped, it might be the first warning the Soviets had of a Western attack. Similarly, the first sign of a Soviet strike might be a shadowing destroyer suddenly opening fire with every weapon it had, hoping to cripple the carrier in a surprise attack.

Mitchell’s only orders were to follow and report, but one of the five Type 054A frigates was doing its best to chase him off. The frigate kept trying to “shoulder”
Gabby
aside. By rights, this should have been easy. Although only a little longer than
Gabby
, the Chinese ship had twice the mass.

Naval ships tried very hard to stay clear of each other. Even a minor ding in the hull could mean weeks or months of repairs in port, not to mention the paperwork. To shoulder another vessel, one ship would pull alongside, matching course and speed, and then slowly inch closer and closer to the other. Eventually, the ship being shouldered would have to change course or collide. It was “chicken of the sea,” although nobody ever called it that.

And there was a trick: by keeping your bow ahead of the vessel you were trying to drive off, if the two ships actually collided, the fact that the other guy’s bow struck your ship meant it was his fault—much more paperwork for him, and a propaganda victory for you. Ships attempting to shoulder another vessel always had a camera recording the action.

Mitchell didn’t cooperate, though. The formation, with nowhere particular to go, was loafing along at fifteen knots, with the US ship matching course and speed. The Chinese frigate could do twenty-seven, according to the intelligence pubs. But each time
Yantai
had come alongside, Mitchell had let the frigate get even with his bow and then steadily bent on more speed.

The first time,
Yantai
had given up after they’d reached twenty-five knots, falling back to her trailing position twenty-one hundred yards astern. After a short interval,
Yantai
had tried again, this time matching speed with
Gabby
until they reached twenty-eight and a half knots.

This was when Mitchell had really missed the bridge wing, because he would have walked out, the wind rushing over him, and studied the foreign warship, only a few dozen yards away.

The Type 054A was the newest class of frigate in the PLA Navy. The Chinese admirals must have liked them, because there were over twenty in the fleet and they were building more. Like most modern warships, she had clean lines and sloped sides, although not quite as radically as
Gabby
. The Type 054A was well armed for her size, with an automatic 76mm gun forward, two rotary 30mm guns aft, and two flavors of missiles—medium-range SAMs and YJ-83 antiship missiles that could reach out almost a hundred miles. Painted a pale gray, she was emblematic of the “new” Chinese navy that had appeared with the new century.

But Mitchell knew
Gabby
made her look like an antique. Instead of a single conventional monohull, she was a trimaran, with a center hull and two outriggers, with four waterjet propulsion units in the main hull. Ton for ton, trimarans had less of their hull in the water, which meant less drag. Her wave-piecing bow jutted out well in front of the deckhouse, which gave not only the illusion, but the reality of speed.

In fact, everything had been sacrificed to that one goal.
Gabby
‘s bow gun was only a 57mm, and her only other weapons were a point defense SAM, short-range Hellfire missiles, and four .50-caliber machine guns. She didn’t even carry ASW torpedoes, common on most warships. Too much weight. Besides, she didn’t have a sonar, so she wouldn’t know when to shoot one.

Racing side by side at twenty-eight–plus knots, the two ships were moving almost twice as fast as the formation, but Mitchell wouldn’t let the Chinese skipper get his bow ahead of the US ship. When he was sure that
Yantai
couldn’t increase her speed any more, he ordered the OOD to increase their speed to thirty-two knots, and they’d smoothly glided away from the Chinese warship.

Gabby
circled back, taking station again, this time off the Chinese formation’s port beam. Mitchell had watched the frigate take up its trailing position behind them again, and imagined the conversation between her captain and the Chinese formation commander. He tried to put himself in the Chinese captain’s and the Chinese admiral’s shoes. This might look like a confrontation between ships and weapons, but it was really a contest of minds.

It must have been a short discussion, because Sontez’s report came only minutes later. “She’s launching her helicopter.”

Mitchell could see it rising from behind the frigate’s superstructure. Most warships had helicopter pads and hangars built into their stern, and used them for scouting or sub-hunting missions. Some could even carry light antiship missiles. The Type 054s carried Russian-built Kamov machines, quite handy but reminding Mitchell of an oversized light gray bug.

A helicopter might be slow compared to a jet fighter, or even most commercial aircraft, but this one was fast enough to zoom ahead of
Gabby
and then circle her several times.

“Probably taking pictures,” Sontez commented.

Meanwhile,
Yantai
had pulled alongside, matching the formation speed of fifteen knots, but didn’t seem interested in racing. Her skipper actually kept his bow back a little. He knew that bringing it even with
Gabby
would trigger another contest that he could not win.

“Watch him, OOD,” Mitchell cautioned.

The headset beeped. “Captain, the formation just turned east, new heading two seven five degrees true.”

“
Yantai
is closing!” Sontez was almost screaming.

Mitchell was ready. “All ahead flank! Hard left rudder! All hands brace for collision!” Booth hit the collision alarm and the warning sound filled his ears. The Chinese ship was probably close enough to hear it as well.

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.”