Island Warriors

TWELVE

For two weeks, Marshall P’eng and Lake Champlain patrolled the western coast of Taiwan, intent on just holding out until the USS United States arrived on station. But the entire area was oddly silent, and none of their intelligence sources were exactly sure why. Yes, China was finishing up a major upgrade to most of her fighters. Yes, she had several major combatants just completing periodic maintenance.

But if that were the reason, why the missile test in the first place? Why stir things up, looking like you were going to take advantage of the lack of air power, and then stand down? Had they simply been impressed with Lake Champlain’s capabilities? Captain Chang tried to believe that was the case, but he simply couldn’t convince himself that it was so. He’d even tried to ferret out some explanations during a brief return to port for refueling, but no one knew anything more about it than he did. At least he’d had the opportunity to see for himself the tactical data link that showed the American carrier — two of them, actually — almost off the coast. Soon, very soon, it would be absolute suicide for China to attempt an invasion.

Since the carrier was now within unrefueled flying range, an exchange of liaison officers was proposed. Taiwan Central Command provided an army officer, Major Ho, to serve as a representative onboard the USS United States, a move that bothered Captain Chang somewhat. Major Ho was an extremely competent army officer with extensive training and joint forces experience under his belt, but when all was said and done, he was still an army officer who knew a bit about naval operations, not a navy officer. Captain Chang wanted to send someone from his own crew, but simply didn’t have the bodies.

In return, the American carrier detached a lieutenant commander by the name of Charlie Goforth as their liaison. Goforth was a nisei, a second-generation American with a Taiwanese mother, and spoke their language fluently. Major Ho was equally fluent in English. In discussing the matter with his own XO, Captain Chang had decided that for the time being, he would keep his own excellent command of English secret.

The exchange of pleasantries ashore had been abruptly cut short by a call from Lake Champlain, who politely requested Marshall P’eng’s assistance at her captain’s very earliest convenience. Chang, who knew of no reason that an Aegis cruiser might require the assistance of a former Knox-class frigate, nonetheless immediately put to sea with Lieutenant Commander Goforth onboard.

As soon as Captain Chang saw the radar contacts appear on the surface plot, he knew there was trouble. Whether Lake Champlain had given him the heads-up based on her own radar coverage or outside intelligence assets, Chang had no idea. The latter, he suspected, since Captain Norfolk’s information on course, speed and intentions on their common adversary was quite detailed.

The task force itself was worrisome enough. Every major combatant from the Gungzho military base was underway, formed up in a tight pattern, and headed their way. Four cruisers, two destroyers, and three amphibious landing ships crammed with troops — no, this was not an exercise or standard workups.

Two hours after he was underway, Chang flew over to the cruiser for additional briefings. As his old Sea Sprite helicopter hovered over the deck, then settled gently, guided by the American flight deck crew, he mentally assessed the condition of the ship. It was well cared for, that was true, but no more so than his own small frigate. Remarkably, the Americans seem oblivious to the marvels around them. The Marshall P’eng required constant chipping and painting, and it was an endless task to maintain her in pristine condition. This ship, with its newer, tougher exterior, seem to require virtually no maintenance. And under the haze gray paint was a layer of solid Kevlar, the tough, fire-resistant fabric that absorbed the impact of projectiles and protected her superstructure from fire.

He was quietly pleased with the competence that his Sea Sprite pilot showed settling onto the deck, and nodded politely to the pilot, who understood immediately what was being conveyed. They had put on a good show in front of the Americans, and Captain was pleased.

The executive officer, a bluff, hearty man Chang had met before, was standing at the edge of the flight deck, waiting to welcome him. Chang would not have expected the captain himself, no, not under the circumstances. That he’d chosen to send his XO was intended to convey his respect for his Taiwanese allies.

Captain Chang let his translator lead the way across the flight deck and out from under the helo’s rotors. For now, they would maintain the pretense that Chang spoke little English. The XO immediately popped into a sharp salute, then led him away from the rotor blast of the helo.

“Welcome aboard, sir. We’re pleased to have you.” The XO gestured to a younger officer standing next him. “Lieutenant Jones would be pleased to have your pilot and copilot accompany him to the wardroom for a cup of coffee and perhaps a meal while we talk to the captain. If that meets with your approval?”

Chang listened as the translator conveyed the XO’s words, matching the translation to the tone of voice and expression of the man standing in front him. “Tell him my flight crew would be pleased to accept the honor,” Chang replied. “I believe they have developed quite a fondness for ice cream during their visits here.”

The XO chuckled. “Ice cream it is.”

The XO led the way off the flight deck and through the central passageway of the ship. The bulkheads were spotless, the fittings polished and shining. Fire hoses, communications gear, and emergency equipment were all apparently brand-new.

The XO took him directly to the captain’s cabin, knocked on the door, and opened it without waiting for a reply. “Captain? I’ve brought Captain Chang.” The XO stepped aside to allow Captain Chang to go first, and then followed and closed the door behind him.

The captain stood as they entered, crossed the room and extended his hand. Chang stood at attention as they shook hands warmly, because that was what was expected in this culture. After the handshake, he bowed slightly, as he would to an equal.

“Well, then, we don’t have much time, I know,” Captain Norfolk said. He motioned to the table in the middle of his room. “You’ll forgive my abruptness, I hope, but perhaps we should get to work.”

Their directness was one of the things Chang liked about the Americans, although he had to admit he still found it jarring. “That would be agreeable,” he said to his translator, and waited for Norfolk to seat himself at the table before taking the chair across from him.

Norfolk shoved a chart across the table at him, and then a short message. “I’m hoping you can shed some light on this,” he said. “We’ve seen a number of deployments by the Chinese forces in the past, but never quite this composition. The long-range missile shooters, the destroyers, the amphibs — but I have to say, it’s the mine-laying capabilities that worry me as much as anything else. We’ve had some recent experience with those, as you know.”

Chang nodded politely, but did not comment. The American’s experience in the Gulf and the serious damage to USS Jefferson were well-known to the world’s navies.

“And here’s the worst of it. We’ve got information that they’re planning another spate of missile tests. And not normal missile tests,” Norfolk said. He locked eyes with Chang, his expression deeply concerned. “Even with the carrier in the area, this could be the start of a major offensive. While I don’t want to alarm you unnecessarily, that’s what I’m hearing from my sources.”

Sources. Intelligence. Spies. How much of the same information does my own government have, and why is it not provided to me?

Chang studied the chart for a moment, then the composition of the ships headed his way. They would be here in about ten hours. Not much time — not much at all. And that was just for weapons-release range — to come closer within visual range would take another six hours, even moving at top speed. Still not much time to prepare.

“But of course, we are already prepared,” Chang said finally. “I agree with you, and I am afraid I can shed no additional light on the matter. Your sources are perhaps more… forthcoming… that mine are.” He saw his translator struggle to get exactly the right nuances in his choice of words to accurately convey Chang’s tone of voice.

Norfolk sighed. “I was afraid of that. If the weather holds, we may see the carrier tomorrow. Her escorts will be another week behind her, so it’s up to you and me to provide cover for her.” He saw Chang grimace, and nodded in agreement. “Right, it’s not the way we like to work. But under the circumstances…”

Under the circumstances, you want your air power here. You’ll pick up the antiair coverage for the cruiser she’s leaving behind, and you want me to handle any submarine problems in the area, because between here and there, she will be going too fast for submarines to be a problem.

Norfolk then confirmed Chang’s reasoning by saying, “If it meets with your approval, I’ll concentrate on the air problem while you handle the subsurface and surface issues. I’ll chop my two helos over to your operational control to use as you see fit. Once the carrier gets within range, it will be a different ballgame, but for now, that looks like the best use of our capabilities. Any comments or suggestions?”

Chang shook his head. “No. And I think it is an excellent plan.”

“Well, then. Perhaps you could join us for lunch before returning to your ship?”

Chang shook his head, suddenly anxious to be back on board Marshall P’eng. “I hope I will not offend if I decline. But given the matters that we have discussed… well, there are some measures I must take immediately.”

An odd expression crossed Norfolk’s face for a moment, and he looked at the translator. But then he said, “I understand. Perhaps another time?” He gestured to his mess cook. “I was afraid this might indeed be the case, but I have been eager to show off my mess cook’s talent. Perhaps you would accept this package for you and your senior officers on our behalf. And, I am afraid I must admit, that I have taken the liberty of providing several gallons of ice cream to your helicopter crew. I hope that your officers and men will enjoy them as a token of our friendship.”

“Thank you. And I hope we’ll see you onboard Marshall P’eng for dinner sometime when circumstances permit.” With mutual assurances of their undying respect and confidence in each other’s capabilities — and in this instance, each man actually meant it — the two men parted. Chang followed the XO back to the flight deck, preceded by his air crew scrambling to get to the helo before he did, and the captain returned to Combat.