Shattered Trident

22. PREEMPTION

12 September 2016

1400 Local Time

USS North Dakota

Apra Harbor, Guam

Standing on the flying bridge, Jerry watched in silence as his boat entered Apra Harbor. Even though he was physically present, he felt detached from what was going on around him. Part of his brain recognized and understood the conning orders that were given, the radio exchanges with the tugs, and the reports from the OOD. But the rest of him was some two thousand miles away, in the South China Sea. He spoke only when absolutely necessary, and even then it was usually just a curt, emotionless, “Very well.”

Bernie Thigpen looked up from the deck and saw his captain standing ramrod straight up on the sail. Since the loss of Santa Fe, the skipper had become withdrawn, reclusive; he seemed to intentionally shun human interaction. He took the normal reports as required by his duties as a commanding officer, but that was all. He hadn’t attended even one meal in the wardroom during the last three days. Hell, Thigpen wasn’t sure he ate much at all. He knew Mitchell had hardly slept; the light in his stateroom had been on the whole time. The only thing delivered to his stateroom was one carafe of coffee after another.

The XO had tried to get his captain to talk, but he didn’t have much success. On those rare occasions that Thigpen did get a response, it was always cryptic. During his last attempt, he pressed the issue: “What could you have done to change the outcome, Skipper? The situation was completely out of your control! You can’t hold yourself accountable for what happened.”

Jerry’s reaction was completely unexpected. His face flashed with intense anger. Seething, he replied in low, guttural voice, “Santa Fe was my responsibility! I was ordered to get her home safely. I failed! And I left her entire crew behind.”

Although shocked by the explosive, visceral response, Thigpen saw past the anger and noted the pain in Jerry’s eyes. Coming to his senses, Jerry apologized to Thigpen, and thanked him for his concern. Despite the XO’s best efforts, Jerry refused to talk about it again. However, while in the head one evening, Thigpen overheard his skipper talking to himself. Leaning quietly against the door, Thigpen heard, “In times of adversity, you can turn to no one else.” He immediately recognized the phrase from Senator Hardy’s speech at the change of command ceremony.

North Dakota eased slowly into the inner harbor, and as the tugs turned her about, Jerry noted two Virginia-class submarines tied up to the submarine tender’s starboard side. Raising his binoculars, he looked at the name placards on the sails—USS Texas and USS North Carolina. Ironically, he hadn’t noticed the Burke-class Aegis destroyer anchored in the outer harbor.

Before the brow was even in place, Jerry swung over the top of the sail, and climbed down the ladder to the deck. Thigpen was waiting for him by the brow with a locked pouch and a key. Jerry nodded as he took the key and put it in his pocket. Reaching for the pouch he said, “Do what you can to get fresh provisions, XO. Right now, I have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen next, so we might as well get ready for anything.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Thigpen replied. “Good luck with the commodore.”

“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”

Jerry saluted the ensign, and strode across the gangplank. On the pier, standing at attention, was the same petty officer that had picked Jerry up during his previous visit. The young sailor stood rock steady, patiently holding the car door open. But this time, Jerry firmly shook his head no, pointed forcefully down the street, then turned sharply and started walking. The shocked look on the petty officer’s face caused Thigpen to laugh out loud. “That poor kid is going to have a heart attack,” he mumbled to himself.

Simonis paced back and forth in his office. The clock read 1525. North Dakota had tied up over twenty minutes ago—Commander Mitchell was late. The driver the CSO had sent down to the pier called back in a panic: North Dakota’s skipper insisted on walking to squadron headquarters. Both Jacobs and Walker found it amusing, and understandable. Even Simonis begrudgingly admitted that a good leg-stretching walk after a stressful patrol was therapeutic, but he had little patience for such self-indulgences. He’d lost a boat assigned to his squadron, and he desperately wanted to know more of the details, the ones that weren’t included in North Dakota’s initial report.

Except for the clock’s ticking, and Simonis’s occasional grumble, the office was quiet. The commodore was in no mood for casual conversation and Jacobs and Walker knew better than to try and start one. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the yeoman knocked at the door.

“Commodore, Commander Mitchell is here.”

“Send him in,” Simonis demanded.

Jerry stepped smartly into the office and proceeded directly to Simonis. Stopping just short of the commodore, he came to attention and reported. “Commanding Officer, USS North Dakota reporting as ordered, sir.”

Simonis appeared to approve of the formal greeting. Nodding, he extended his hand. “Welcome home, Captain,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” Jerry replied as he grasped the commodore’s hand.

“I trust you remember my chief staff officer and operations officer,” said Simonis, gesturing first to Jacobs, then Walker.

“Of course.” Jerry reached over and shook their hands.

Simonis then motioned toward the conference table. “Be seated, gentlemen.”

As soon as Jerry sat down, he opened the locked pouch and pulled out an annotated chart, a bound report, and a DVD. Unfolding the chart, he positioned it so that Simonis could see it clearly.

“Before we start,” interrupted Jacobs, “would you like some coffee, Captain?”

“No… no, thank you. I think I’ve had my annual allowance already,” Jerry responded hesitantly.

The commodore held up the discussion briefly while he looked the chart over. After a short examination, he looked up at Jerry and said, “Walk me through the engagement, Captain.”

“Yes, sir.”

For the next half hour, Jerry went step by step through the encounter, beginning with the initial acquisition of Santa Fe. Walker grimaced when he saw the unbelievably long detection range, and Jerry commented that the excessive noise from Santa Fe’s main propulsion shaft not only enabled the Chinese to find her, but almost certainly degraded her spherical array. When combined with the strong layer, it was understandable how Halsey could have missed the approaching ships.

Simonis grunted, and gestured for Jerry to continue. Turning to the page in his report with a video freeze frame from the Sea Tern UAV, Jerry showed the commodore the cable for the towed array streaming from the Luyang I destroyer, and emphasized that the prosecution was done passively. Only the Ka-28 Helix went active, and then probably only to verify Santa Fe’s position before dropping the rocket torpedo. That statement got a noticeable reaction from the commodore, as well as Jacobs and Walker. The Chinese had not demonstrated such sophisticated tactics before; the war was forcing them to learn quickly.

Jerry then walked Simonis and his staff officers through the Chinese attacks. When he got to the point where he described Halsey’s evasive maneuvers, Simonis roared indignantly, “Halsey turned the wrong way! What was he thinking!?” Walker’s face turned red with anger, but he remained silent.

“I thought that at first myself,” Jerry quickly interjected. “But my team found this in the post-engagement analysis. Look at the geometry, Commodore.” Jerry turned to a blown-up section of the chart in his report and pointed to the Helix’s position. “See here. The Helix dropped the APR-2E on Santa Fe’s port side. Warren did exactly what he had been trained to do. He turned away and launched countermeasures.”

“The helo was herding him?” Simonis asked incredulously.

“That, or the Chinese were just plain lucky,” answered Jerry. “Either way Warren reacted in accordance with doctrine, and it drove him straight into the two warships, here. Each ship launched a Yu-7, staggered so they wouldn’t interfere with each other. Warren intercepted one, but missed the other. That weapon hit Santa Fe. I think any one of us would have been hard-pressed to successfully handle three homing weapons in such a short span of time.”

Simonis slowly leaned back into his chair, suddenly quiet. Jerry’s description of the event had hit his preconceived notions hard—he had much to consider. Jacobs saw his boss’s reaction and knew Simonis was done, but the CSO had one question.

“Captain, the chart shows that you command-enabled your weapon, why?”

Jerry nodded. “Yes, I did. I was trying to scare the warships off. But they either didn’t hear the seeker’s transmissions or didn’t understand what it meant.” He looked down at the table briefly, then added, “I… I didn’t know what else I could do.”

At that point the discussion abruptly ended, the office becoming suddenly silent. Jerry looked at the three Squadron Fifteen officers and realized it was over. Pushing the chart, report, and DVD toward the operations officer, he said, “Commander Walker, this is for your reconstruction analysis team. The DVD contains digital copies of my ship’s sensor, fire control, and event logs, the UAV download, and my report with the annotated chart. I’d appreciate it if you’d send a copy back to my parent squadron, SUBRON Three. I know Captain Corina would like to see them.”

“Certainly, Captain. I’ll have the files e-mailed over the secure network.”

“Thank you,” replied Jerry.

“Gentlemen.” Simonis spoke as he rose. “If there is nothing else, I’d like to speak to Commander Mitchell alone, please.”

Jacobs and Walker quickly collected their notes and the patrol report, and after shaking Jerry’s hand again, headed for the door. As Walker was about to exit, Simonis called out to him, “Rich, shut the door please. Thank you.” The click of the doorknob latch seemed particularly loud.

Simonis marched over to the carafe on a side table and refilled his mug. Grabbing a second cup, he poured one for Jerry. “How do you take your coffee, Captain?”

“Uh, black, sir,” said Jerry, a little confused. He was sure the commodore had heard him decline earlier. “I’m not an advocate of highly adulterated coffee.”

“Excellent!” responded Simonis, pleased. “Somehow I knew you weren’t a mocha cappuccino latte kind of guy.”

Jerry smiled slightly. “I think that’s three different drinks, Commodore.”

“Whatever,” shrugged Simonis. “All I know is that you can’t taste the coffee with so much milk, chocolate, or other crap mixed in.” He placed the steaming cup in front of Jerry, raised his, and said, “Cheers.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“How’s your crew holding up?” asked Simonis casually, taking his seat.

“Hmmm,” Jerry uttered, sipping his coffee. “They seem to be doing okay. None of them were exactly thrilled watching Santa Fe being attacked and sunk. Some are taking it harder than others.”

“And how are you taking it?”

Jerry’s cup stopped just short of his mouth, and he slowly lowered it to the table. “I, uh… I guess I would put myself in the harder than others category.”

“I suspected as much,” grunted Simonis. “You implied in your initial message that perhaps you could have done more to help Santa Fe, and just a few moments ago you reinforced that impression. You’ve had three days to study the logs and the after-action report, weren’t you able to find anything?”

Embarrassed, Jerry shook his head no.

“Really?” replied Simonis with a condescending tone. “You disappoint me, Captain. I thought you were smarter than that.”

Rage suddenly filled Jerry; his stomach churned and his jaw drew up tight. Fighting to keep himself in check, he looked at Simonis with intense anger. Through clenched teeth, he was just barely able to choke out the words, “And what should I have found, Commodore?”

Simonis leaned forward, his gaze equally intense, his voice just as stern. “That you were not in control of the situation, Captain.”

Stunned by Simonis’s statement, Jerry found himself unable to speak. The young captain’s blank expression told the commodore that his first volley had hit home. He had Mitchell’s undivided attention.

Simonis quickly rose again, pacing as he spoke. “In one of my previous assignments, I was the head of tactics development at DEVRON Twelve. For two years, I reviewed every event reconstruction from boats on both coasts. By the time I left, I could dismantle an after-action report in a couple of hours, three tops. I can say with reasonable confidence that after reading your initial message and hearing your brief, there was absolutely nothing more you could have done to help Halsey. Furthermore, there were a number of bad decisions that you didn’t make that potentially could have cost me two boats. And your attack on the Luyang I was well executed. All in all, Captain, I’m quite impressed with your performance.”

Jerry was awestruck; his anger washed away as fast as it had formed. He heard Simonis’s words, but he had trouble wrestling with their meaning. It was not what he expected.

“But, sir… I failed to get Santa Fe home. I left them all behind,” Jerry croaked, his voice heavy with emotion.

Simonis stopped and looked at Jerry. “Captain, get it through your thick skull, there was nothing you could have done that would have changed the final outcome. Given the circumstances, there was no way you were going to pull that rabbit out of the hat. I know it sucks, but this was a no-win situation.”

“But, sir…”

“But nothing!” exclaimed Simonis firmly. “I know about your ties to the SEAL community. They are damn fine warriors, and they have a right to be proud of the fact that they bring everyone home. But Jerry, we don’t have that kind of luxury.”

Simonis then raised his right arm and made a large sweeping motion toward the Pacific. “We lost fifty-two submarines out there during World War Two, and you can add Scorpion and Thresher to that tally. In almost every case, we lost entire crews, every single last man! And, we lost them permanently! There’s a reason why we say they are on eternal patrol. In our line of work, Jerry, if a boat goes down, everyone on board is left behind. That’s just the way it is.”

Swallowing heavily, and fighting back the tears, Jerry nodded stiffly. Simonis was right, but that wasn’t much comfort at the moment. A boat had been lost, colleagues, fellow submariners were dead, all because of the misfortunes of war. And then there were the Chinese sailors on the destroyer he had torpedoed; most of them probably died as well. Ironically, there were no indications the Chinese ships knew it was an American sub they were attacking. Life seemed so damned unfair at times.

As the emotional turmoil settled down, Jerry was finally able to talk. “I hear you, sir. I don’t like it. But I understand, now.”

“Good,” replied Simonis, satisfied. “I need you firing on all cylinders. This war is getting worse by the day, and if the rumor mill is correct, we’ll soon be in the thick of it. I’ll need every boat to be operating at one hundred percent, and that includes their skippers.”

Jerry pushed himself away from the table and stood. He needed to get back to his boat. He had to get her ready for war. Extending his hand, he responded confidently, “Understood, sir. North Dakota will be ready to set sail, whenever you give the order.”

“Very good, Captain. That’s all I can realistically expect.”

“Thank you for the coffee, sir, it was really good. So was the advice,” Jerry added sheepishly.

“You’re welcome, Jerry. Just let my staff know what your boat needs, and I’ll see to it that you get it ASAP.”

A slight smile popped on Jerry’s face. “If I know my XO, sir, your staff already has all the requisitions. Good afternoon, Commodore.”

12 September 2016

1700 Local Time

August 1st Building, Ministry of National Defense Compound

Beijing, People’s Republic of China

General Xi Ping walked wearily into the CMC conference room. It had been a long two days, and judging by the way the war was progressing, the days were likely to get even longer. He saw President Chen and General Su sitting at the conference table; each was reading one of the myriad of daily reports. Xi signaled an aide to bring him coffee, and an army major rushed a cup over to him. The general gulped the contents down quickly and returned the cup to the aide. Fortified with caffeine, Xi approached the two senior members of the Central Military Commission.

“Good afternoon, President Chen, General Su,” he greeted.

Chen looked up; his serious expression immediately became one of surprise, then concern. “General! Please forgive me, but you look dreadful!”

Xi chuckled lightly. “That’s because I feel dreadful, Comrade President.”

“I take it you have the final analysis of the third missile attack?” Su asked impatiently. They were all fatigued, thought the chief of the General Staff. And if Xi had to work extra-long hours to support final victory, well, that was the price of his promotion.

“Yes, General Su,” Xi answered testily. “And it’s as we feared. The Littoral Alliance nations are jamming the Beidou navigation system signals over their territories. The accuracy of our ballistic missiles was severely degraded. We missed most of the targets of interest in the last attack.”

“But how?!” Chen demanded. “General Hu assured us that the satellite navigation systems on all our missiles were highly resistant to jamming!”

“He was partially correct, sir,” Xi explained. “The receivers are upward-looking and are very resistant to jammers on the ground. Unfortunately, the Littoral Alliance has put the jammers in high-altitude, long-endurance UAVs. The receivers on our missiles looked right at them and accepted the more powerful, flawed signals as valid. It threw the missiles far off course.”

“Wonderful!” replied Su sarcastically. “So now instead of hitting important military and economic targets, our missiles are destroying hospitals, schools, and civilian residences—with photographs posted instantly on the Internet for the whole world to see!” Su’s face became crimson with anger. “Do you have any idea as to the magnitude of the propaganda bonanza we’ve handed the Littoral Alliance!?”

Xi became equally angry and stood his ground. “I believe, General, I explicitly briefed this commission that we would have two or three attacks before the Littoral Alliance would probably deploy countermeasures. General Hu disagreed, and you, sir, accepted his argument!”

“Generals!” shouted Chen Dao. “Fighting amongst ourselves will not help us win this war!”

Vice Chairmen Tian and Li, and General Shi, heard the president’s raised voice and immediately came over to the conference table. Su was silent, but obviously fuming. President Chen looked at Xi. “Do you have any recommendations on how to counter the jamming?”

“I have some ideas, but I need to discuss them with General Wang,” Xi responded. “Until then, I would recommend delaying any further large-scale ballistic missile attacks. Our inventory is now limited and we must husband our remaining resources.”

“I agree with General Xi,” said Tian. “We may have to look at using more missiles to support our attacks on Vietnamese defensive positions. We lost fourteen aircraft this morning during the saturation attack on their line at Cao-bang. Our bombers delivered their ordnance and were suddenly pounced on by low-flying fighters. We were ultimately successful in smashing through the Vietnamese defenses, but the losses in the air and on the ground were higher than we expected. We’ll have to reinforce both the air regiments and group armies with our reserves.”

Chen was perplexed. “How did the Vietnamese muster the necessary forces to oppose the strike? I thought we had command of the air over the front?”

“It would appear that a squadron or two of Indian Flankers have deployed to Vietnam, Comrade President,” a chagrined Li volunteered. “General Xi’s people suggested this was a possibility. But I discounted it as a foolish notion given India’s massive assault on Pakistan.” Li faced Xi and bowed. “Please accept my apology, Ping.”

Xi silently bowed in return.

“President Chen,” interrupted General Shi, the head of the political department, “while I agree we need to exercise caution in conducting future missile strikes, we can’t afford to lose the momentum we’ve achieved. Militarily speaking, the situation has turned to our advantage. We’ve plunged nearly fifty kilometers into Vietnam across the entire border in only three days. We’ve largely gained air and surface dominance in the seas around China, and Admiral Wei reports that he has confirmed the sinking of three enemy submarines. And, of course, we’ve inflicted considerable damage to our enemy through ballistic missile strikes. However, as positive as these indicators are, our position is far more tenuous from an economic and political perspective.

“According to General Ye in the logistics department, we’ve lost approximately fifteen percent of our tanker fleet, and about twenty percent of our refining capacity. We’ve sustained less damage to our storage and production facilities, but it is still noteworthy. And, of course, we have been completely cut off from any external sources of petroleum. Even if the war were to end right now, the long-term damage to our economy will be considerable, but ultimately recoverable.

“Current estimates point to a five-to-ten-year period required to regain our pre-war gross domestic product. However, the longer this war continues, the more damage our economy will suffer and the longer that recovery period becomes. Some of the analyses suggest there is a tipping point where economic collapse becomes likely, and that we are closer to that point than we think.

“Politically, we have a growing internal security issue looming before us. The people are getting more and more restive. The short-term economic downturn is causing significant anxiety, the fuel rationing policy is highly unpopular, and they are absolutely incensed about the complete cutoff of access to the Internet and social networking sites. If we do not successfully conclude this war soon, we may have an internal crisis on our hands as severe as the external one.”

Chen nodded his understanding. “Thank you, General Shi, your wisdom is greatly appreciated.” Turning toward the other members of the CMC, Chen continued, “We must regain the initiative in the aerospace dimension. We’ve started to turn the tide on the seas, and we’ve made great progress on land, but it is our air and missile strikes that will ultimately give us victory. General Xi, please work with General Wang’s staff to implement your ideas. As for the rest of you, any suggestions that you can come up with will be considered. The sooner we can resume effective missile attacks, the better.”

“Yes, Comrade President, I will attend to it immediately,” Xi replied. Then he hesitantly added, “But… there is another issue that I wish to bring to your attention.”

Chen was momentarily confused, then quickly realized that the conversation had wandered far afield shortly after the intelligence chief’s initial report. “I’m sorry, General, we became so fixated on the missile problem that I didn’t realize you had additional business. Please go on.”

Xi shuffled a little, uncomfortable with the topic he needed to raise. “Comrade President, I have an intelligence officer who is particularly gifted. He is socially inept, rude, and lives like a hermit in the basement of our building. In fact, his only redeeming quality is that he thinks darkly, and does it extremely well.”

The president and the other members of the CMC looked at Xi with a mixture of impatience and curiosity. Only Su seemed mildly amused. “I don’t know if I would call the ability to think evil thoughts a redeeming quality, Ping,” he said, smiling broadly.

“Normally, General Su, I would completely agree with you. But this intelligence officer is the one who wrote the assessments on the jamming of the Beidou system and the Indian Flanker deployment.”

The smile abruptly disappeared from the general’s face; the other members were suddenly keen to hear more. “Please continue,” ordered Chen.

“In the folder I just gave you, sir, there is a synopsis of Major Geng’s latest work. In this paper he presents a frightening argument as to why Japan will develop nuclear weapons, and will do so soon.”

The members of the CMC all looked at Xi with surprise and shock. It was several moments before some even tried to speak; Xi politely cut them off. “Please, listen to me first, then we can debate the merits of Geng’s work.

“First of all, their constitution does not forbid Japan from possessing nuclear weapons. Yes, it has been their national policy since the mid-1950s to forbid their development, but that is only a piece of paper. Yes, their national psyche is still scarred and that has had a significant influence on their past decision to not pursue them, or even allow them to be transported through Japanese territory. But that memory has dimmed. It’s been over seventy years since the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings. Most important, however, is that these two factors are predicated on the belief that Japan does not need to produce nuclear weapons because they are under the American nuclear shield. Geng argues that may no longer be the case.

“The Japanese, indeed the entire Littoral Alliance, has snubbed the American president’s attempts to broker a cease-fire. They have boldly told the Americans they are no longer needed to ensure Japan’s security, and yet they made the hypocritical assumption that they would still be covered by America’s nuclear deterrent. Our recent ballistic missile attacks have shaken this belief badly. The fact that we have not launched any ballistic missiles at India, a nuclear power, reinforces their perception of vulnerability.

“Furthermore, Japan possesses the technological base and knowledge to develop a nuclear weapon. A number of their civilian reactors use mixed oxide, or MOX fuels, which use a mixture of plutonium and uranium. What most people do not realize is that while the plutonium only makes up about five to seven percent of the reactor fuel by weight, it is of weapons-grade quality—at least ninety percent pure plutonium-239.

“As of last year, Japan has increased its production capacity of MOX fuels to one hundred and forty metric tons a year. Simple math suggests that Japan has access to tons of weapons-grade material. Depending on the sophistication of the bomb design, only a few tens of kilograms are needed to produce a fission weapon. Japanese engineers also have access to weapon design expertise through India, should they run into problems.

“Comrades, Major Geng has argued that there is now a strong political motivation to develop nuclear weapons in Japan. When coupled with their technological capabilities, and the close alliance with India, this becomes a substantial new strategic threat to the People’s Republic of China.”

An awestruck silence greeted Xi’s finale. The senior members of the Communist Party looked back and forth at each other. Some had the look of disbelief, others shock, a few, outright fear. It was General Su who finally broke the silence. “Is there any evidence the Japanese are pursuing this path?”

Xi took a deep breath and answered, “No, General. But I must caveat that by saying we really haven’t looked all that hard. Our collection assets have been heavily tasked to support the war effort.”

“Then, General Xi, this becomes your number-one priority,” announced Chen sternly. “We must know if Japan has an active nuclear weapons program, and we need to know soon.”

12 September 2016

2045 Local Time

USS North Dakota

Apra Harbor, Guam

“My God, Bernie! What the hell are you doing! We have to be there in fifteen minutes!” shouted Jerry; there was a distinct note of panic in his voice.

“I had to shower, Skipper! I was filthy!” cried Thigpen from his stateroom. A towel came flying out and landed on the floor of the head the two men shared. Sounds of drawers being opened and slammed shut echoed from the XO’s quarters. “Now where did I put my cover?”

Jerry collapsed into his desk chair and cradled his head in his hands. “Simonis will just shoot me!” he moaned. Looking up at the clock on the bulkhead, he saw the seconds relentlessly ticking by. The thought of being late sent a chill down Jerry’s spine.

“You know, XO, it is not considered career-enhancing to show up fashionably late for a video teleconference WITH THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!” he bellowed.

“Keep your shirt on, Skipper. I’m almost ready,” Thigpen squealed as he walked into his captain’s stateroom.

Jerry took one look at Thigpen and emitted a guttural cry of frustration. “Gak! XO!!”

“What!?” yelled Thigpen, completely confused.

“Your shirt!”

“Huh?” Thigpen looked down and saw that he had buttoned his shirt incorrectly. “Oh shit!”

While Thigpen wrestled with his buttons, Jerry shoveled him out into the passageway, and drove him toward the control room. The two made a comical entry with Thigpen still trying to button his shirt and Jerry mimicking a tug pushing him toward the ladder well. As they passed through control, the occupants watched with amusement as the two senior officers acted more like a comedy team than the boat’s command element. As Jerry propelled Thigpen through the door, he called to the ship’s engineer. “Mr. Sobecki, the ship is yours until we get back. I’ll expect it to be here.”

“Aye, aye, Skipper. Have a good time,” shouted Sobecki as he desperately tried to keep a straight face. The control room watchstanders all attempted to stifle their laughter; Lymburn failed and uttered a loud snort. From the behind the door, the XO’s faint voice wafted through. “I heard that, Q!”

Everyone in control lost it.

They barely made it in time. With only a minute to spare, Jerry and his XO hustled into the Squadron Fifteen conference room. Simonis’s stern glare sent a clear message: I am not amused! Jerry shrugged an apology as he shuffled by the commodore.

The two quickly took their seats and looked up at the large display screen. Jerry noted that the connection with the White House Situation Room had been established, and the display showed a number of people milling about and talking. In the background, Jerry saw Joanna Patterson and her boss, Dr. Kirkpatrick. Jerry remembered fondly his meeting with the national security advisor soon after the Iranian incident.

Suddenly, a harried-looking man appeared in the camera’s field of view. He strode quickly up to the mike and announced, “Squadron Fifteen, this is the White House, stand by for the President of the United States.”

“Attention on deck!” commanded Simonis. Everyone in the conference room jumped to their feet and stood rigidly at attention.

Within seconds, President Myles appeared on the screen, followed by Vice President Randall, and the secretaries of state and defense. Myles took his seat with Randall to his right and Kirkpatrick to his left. Pulling the microphone closer, the president addressed the Guam-based squadron. “Good evening, Commodore. Thank you for getting everyone together on such short notice. As you can imagine, we’re in full-fledged crisis mode here. Meetings like this tend to occur at the last minute. Please, be seated.”

“It was no inconvenience at all, Mr. President,” Simonis replied as he sat down. “We are honored to have you with us tonight.”

Myles slowly shook his head. Jerry thought the man looked exhausted. “No, Commodore. It is I who am honored. Your squadron has shouldered the load of this crisis, and I am very grateful for your exquisite service. You took on a very difficult and unusual assignment to buy me time; time to learn why the war started, who the belligerents were, and to attempt a diplomatic resolution of the conflict. My orders tied your hands behind your back, and yet your squadron executed their mission brilliantly and gave me the time I asked for. It is unfortunate that I wasn’t as successful in negotiating a cease-fire.”

Jerry saw the bitter disappointment on the president’s face. He’s holding himself solely responsible, thought Jerry to himself. The president’s admission was a harsh judgment on himself, perhaps too harsh. In diplomacy, it takes two to tango, and it’s really tough if one of the partners doesn’t even want to dance.

“That is why I wanted to have this VTC, Commodore,” continued Myles. “To personally thank you and your crews for all your hard work and sacrifice, and to express my sincerest regrets and condolences on the loss of USS Santa Fe and her crew. I know your command is grieving. I only wish there was something I could do to ease the pain.”

The president paused for a moment, totally silent. Jerry couldn’t tell if he was trying to compose himself or praying. Either would be acceptable given the circumstances.

“Commander Mitchell,” called Myles.

“Yes, Mr. President.” Jerry stood as he replied.

For the first time that evening, Myles had a smile on his face. “You continue to amaze me with your resourcefulness and dedication, Captain. I’ve been briefed on your engagement with the Chinese destroyer, and both Captain Simonis and the CNO strongly endorse your actions. You followed, to the letter, the restrictive rules of engagement I placed upon you, and I commend you on your sound decision-making skills. I only regret having placed you in a position where you had to make such a decision. Taking lives is never easy to do.”

“Thank you for your kind sentiments, sir,” responded Jerry. In the background he could see Joanna wiping her eyes.

President Myles then acknowledged Dobson, Pascovich, and Simonis for their diligence and skills in successfully executing the spoiler campaign. Once again the president noted that the combined efforts of the squadron exceeded all expectations. Finally, he concluded his remarks with a short awards presentation. “Captain Simonis, moments ago I authorized the awarding of the presidential unit citation to Squadron Fifteen and the four participating submarine crews. Individual personal awards will be forthcoming. It is the least I can do to acknowledge your efforts on behalf of the United States of America.”

“Thank you, Mr. President, for your kind words. They are greatly appreciated,” accepted Simonis.

“Now, Commodore, before we end the VTC, do you have any questions for me?”

“Just one, Mr. President. There is a lot of scuttlebutt, rumors, which suggests that we will soon be at war with China. Are we truly that close?” asked Simonis with deep concern.

Myles sighed. “I’m afraid, Commodore, that we are on the brink of war. There are already rumors on the Internet concerning the loss of Santa Fe. References to the sinking of USS Maine and Pearl Harbor are coming up frequently in the media, with much the same result. I daresay that with the formal acknowledgement of a Chinese attack on one of our submarines, there will be significant congressional and public pressure for the United States to become an active participant on the side of the Littoral Alliance. I will keep Santa Fe’s loss secret for as long as I can, but the release of basic information in the near term is unavoidable.”

“It seems incredible!” remarked Simonis. “Do Congress and the public comprehend the risks of going to war with another nuclear superpower?”

“Some do. But most assume we’ll be able to ‘control’ the escalation, that China won’t risk national destruction. I find this assumption to be preposterous. Too much blood has been spilled; neither side has any inclination of backing down. Thus, escalation is all but inevitable. And yes, I firmly believe nuclear weapons will ultimately be used.”

Simonis looked shaken. “Surely this has been brought up in negotiations?”

Myles nodded. “Lord knows we’ve been beating that drum, Commodore. I’ve struggled hard to retain our neutrality, so we could serve as an uninvolved mediator. We’ve been soundly rebuffed by both sides—no one wants to listen.”

The president paused and took a deep breath. “I’ve studied Asian cultures for most of my life, Commodore, and the only way to get them to listen at this stage is to deal them a serious emotional shock. The last time we did this, in 1945, we had to use nuclear weapons to get our point across. That’s not an option today.”

When Jerry heard the president’s last statement, an off-the-wall idea popped into his head. Briefly considering it further, it seemed crazy. But it wasn’t any crazier than going to war with China. He knew he’d catch hell for this, but it sure beat the alternative.

“Mr. President, if I may,” Jerry interrupted.

Simonis whipped his head about in Jerry’s direction, shocked by his intrusion.

“Yes, of course, Captain,” Myles said.

“Mr. President, I’ve listened carefully to your explanation of the situation, and the significant limitations you’re facing in dealing with this conflict, so I have to ask this question.” Jerry swallowed hard, preparing himself. “Why don’t you use nuclear weapons to end this war?”

Both rooms erupted in chaos. Jerry saw the president’s stunned expression. Joanna’s jaw dropped in amazement at what she heard. A number of people were shouting. Simonis thundered, “That’s enough, Mitchell!”

“Quiet, please!” shouted President Myles. The roar slowly died down as the president also motioned for silence. “All right, Captain, please explain yourself.”

“Certainly, Mr. President, but you have to admit that my mere mentioning of the idea was a bit of a shock.”

Myles chuckled. “It most certainly… was.” The president’s tone and expression told Jerry he had his foot in the door.

“Mr. President, you’ve stated your conviction that this war will inevitably result in a nuclear exchange. If that is indeed the consensus of you and your advisors, then the preemptive use of nuclear weapons, as a demonstration, becomes a viable option. You’ve struggled to maintain the neutrality of the United States, consistently and openly pushing for a cease-fire and a negotiated settlement; neither of the warring parties are particularly happy with you or your policies right now. This means you are in the ideal position to actually employ nuclear weapons in a demonstrative fashion, and get away with it.”

As Jerry spoke, he saw Kirkpatrick lean forward, intrigued by what he was hearing, his right hand stroking his chin. Tilting toward the president, the NSA whispered something. Myles’s head snapped around. There was a hushed exchange, and Jerry noticed Kirkpatrick’s head nodding ever so slightly.

Myles turned back toward the mike. “What are you suggesting, Captain?”

“That you authorize the detonation of a number of nuclear weapons in the deep-water areas adjacent to the South and East China Seas. It will have to be more than two. You need to be more shocking than the last time, but your experts will have to determine the exact number. The weapons should be detonated simultaneously along the war zone. No one will miss this. The blast energy from the detonations will be conducted acoustically and seismically; they will literally be shots heard all around the world. If we explode them deep enough, there will be little venting of radiation into the atmosphere.

“Once you have the warring parties’ undivided attention, you give a speech that graphically articulates where this conflict is going, and the devastating consequences that will inevitably follow. You know better than I, sir, but I would think this would be highly shocking to the Japanese and Chinese at the very least. The beauty of it all is that if we do this properly, there is little risk of anyone getting hurt from the demonstration, and a reasonable chance that you’ll be able to stop the fighting.”

Jerry ended his proposal and sat down. Thigpen, just as stunned as everyone else, leaned over and whispered, “Skipper! Are you nucking futs!?!”

“Shh,” said Jerry.

After an awkward period of total silence, Myles spoke. “Commander Mitchell, I’ve already mentioned your resourcefulness, but this idea of yours is, well, a bit outlandish. However, my national security advisor is more than a little intrigued by your proposal and believes it has merit. Therefore, we’ll take it up for further discussion over here. If we have any questions, we know how to get ahold of you.”

Jerry nodded. “I’ll be here, Mr. President.”

“One last thing. That took a lot of courage, Captain. And I appreciate your candor and concern for our great nation. I won’t forget it. Good evening, everyone.”

Without a word, everyone in the conference room came to attention as the president departed. And before the connection was terminated, Jerry saw Kirkpatrick smile and give him a thumbs-up.

As the assembled officers filed out of the conference room, no one even came near Jerry Mitchell.