by Stephen Makk
“Weaps. Fish, point seven miles to run.”
“Sonar. Aspect change, Tango one coming to port, returning to heading.”
“And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand.”
“Weaps. Fish, point two miles to run. The fish is hungry and pinging. Wire cut.” Nathan looked to the deck for a moment and then raised his head and stared into the distance. His mouth set thin and firm. His eye’s narrowed, his voice firm, determined and low.
“And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.”
“Weaps. Fish terminal, pinging, running in. Running in.”
“Sonar. Hot datum, Hot datum, Tango one.”
“For the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand”
“Sonar. Impact amidships, no screw count from Tango one, she’s sinking.”
“Route the sound feed to the boat’s intercom,” said Nathan, and picked up the microphone. “All hands; we’ve just scored a hot datum on our target the Seopung.” A cheer went up.
“We took her out with a belly shot. The forward and stern sections will be intact; it could have been us out there. Many men, our fellow submariners, will be alive in there, sinking into the black cold Sea of Japan. They didn’t ask for this fate, they didn’t deserve it.” He looked around the control room. “Think of them this day. Think of them, and what might have been.”
USS Stonewall Jackson’s speaker system relayed the grim awful sounds; the twisting of steel plate, hissing of buoyancy air, screaming and bubbling into the sea. They heard the popping of fires and battery explosions. All around the boat, men and woman held their heads quietly and looked down. Some prayed; nobody made eye contact.
The horrifying sounds of a groaning of the hull steel surrounded them, like a metal dolphin in torture; writhing, groaning and renting as it plunged into the depths.
Nikki was distraught, she couldn’t bear it. She wiped the sweat from her brow and placed her palms over her eyes. The hull’s death throes were a torment; it twisted, groaned and writhed.
When it came, it was sudden. Mercifully, with a sickening crump, the Seopung’s hull imploded. Vast bubbles of air rose to the surface straining for release and freedom.
Nathan spoke into the microphone. “All hands, we hereby commit these souls to the deep, may they be remembered forever until there is no more pain, no more suffering, and the abyss itself shall give up her dead and return them to us.” Nathan hung his head. “May God rest you bastards.”
Long minutes went by. Now, it was time to finish the job.
“Rig trim to ascend fore and aft. Come to periscope depth.”
“Periscope depth Sir.”
Nathan selected a pop up and a three sixty. The scope emerged from the grey sea, rotated and returned below.
He looked around the submarine on the screen. There were the Najin class frigates, Najin and Heuglyong.
The sonar ping could be felt through the hull.
“Sonar. Active pulse from one of the frigates, second ping. They’re ranging us.”
Nathan selected a raise scope and stay; he watched the two frigates in real time on the monitor.
From the leftmost warship, fire and smoke belched from an RBU 1200 launcher. He saw the projectile arcing upwards. Rocket launched anti-submarine mortars were on their way.
Chapter 10
NATHAN RETRACTED THE scope. “Come to port sixty degrees, all ahead full.”
“All ahead full aye Sir.”
There would be no time to go deep, the dispenser would be arcing its way down now. He found himself hoping that the ASW Officer and launch crew were good and accurate; every second counted as the boat made her way away from the target site.
“Sonar. Sir, dynamic surface entry astern.” The hull shook with a sickening vibration as the first mortar went off close by. Boom, the second was deeper. Four more followed, deeper still.
“Sonar. Ping detected. Second ping. Ranging.”
That’s it, thought Nathan. He selected a pop up on three sixty. There they were.
“Weaps. Harpoon strikes at bearings three five five degrees, Tango one and thirty eight degrees, Tango two. Ranges less than three miles. Flood tubes, open outer doors.”
“Laying in, Sir.” Thirty seconds went by. “Tube five ready in all respects, Sir.”
“Launch.”
“Tube five. Launch. At the surface, motor fired. The bird is in the air.”
“Tube six ready in all respects, Sir.”
Nathan waited thirty seconds. “Launch.”
“Tube five. Launch. At the surface, motor fired. Another bird is in the air.”
At his conn he selected pop up and scan three four five to fifty degrees. He waited, then activated. The screen soon showed the results. Tango one was burning and going down, split into two. Her back had broken; a magazine must have gone off. Two life rafts had been deployed. Tango two was burning fiercely, and black smoke rose into the sky.
He selected up scope and watched the burning hulk. After two minutes, life rafts were deployed and men climbed in. She was now going down by the stern. More life rafts, more men. Five minutes later she, slipped below the waves.
Another vessel had vanished from the world of men.
“LIEUTENANT COMMANDER Lemineux, make this signal to Pearl.” He handed over a note.
PRIORITY RED
R 271349Z JUL 86 ZY13
STONEWALL JACKSON
PACFLT// ID S072RQ81//
TO COMSUBPAC PEARL HARBOR HAWAII//N1//
NAVAL OPS/02
MSGID/STONEWALL JACKSON 479/ ACTUAL//
MSG BEGINS://
TARGET SEOPUNG IS DOWN ALONG WITH FOUR SANG-O AND TWO FRIGATES. THE NAJIN AND THE HEUGLYONG.
WE ARE SEVEN, OH AND OH.
MSG END//
HE WALKED OVER TO THE chart, and placed his hand on Lieutenant Kaminski’s back, under her ponytail.
“Now, I’d like to call in on the best pizza joint in the western Pacific. Nikki, let’s have a course to Guam.”
DAYS LATER, OFF SOUTHERN California.
“SURFACE THE BOAT.”
The USS Stonewall Jackson broke surface on a bright but breezy sunny afternoon with a speckled sea.
“Crack the hatch, COB.”
“Aye Sir.”
The COB cracked the hatch and stood looking at the southern tip of Point Loma, San Diego off to his left. USS Stonewall Jackson skirted south of the point and turned to port to make her way around North Island Naval Air station. It would then be under the Coronado Bay Bridge into the base proper.
“COB,” called Nathan. The COB returned down to the submarine’s companionway. “Come into my cabin.”
Inside Nathan took out a flag, and opened it to let the COB see what it was.
“I want you to hoist this on the mast.”
“That? Really Sir?”
“Yes. Do it now.”
“Sir.” The COB left his cabin.
Nathan went to the control room. “All well, XO?”
“Yes Sir. Everyone’s excited to be getting the extra leave.”
“They’ve deserved it. I didn’t think COMSUBPAC would let us down. XO, Kaminski. Let’s go up to the sail.” The three of them stood on the sail, squinting in the sun and looking forward out over the familiar scene.
It would be a full debriefing here, then up to homeport Kitsap after their leave.
“It’s a fine day, Sir,” said Nikki.
“It is, and it’s great to be back.”
“What’s that Sir?” said the XO, “the Flag.” Flying high on a black flag was the skull and crossbones of the Jolly Roger.
“Captain Franks of the USS NYC told me he’d been on exchange with the Royal Navy years ago. That’s what the
ir boats fly on homecoming after a patrol where they’ve sunk the enemy. Turn and salute the flag.” They did.
Soon after, three F/A 18’s flew low overhead, and they came in for a second pass dipping their wings in salute. Ahead was the Coronado Bay Bridge.
Nathan smiled and looked at the rows of grey warships. “It’s good to be back. Conn us in, XO. We’re on pier four.”
“Aye Sir.”
Nathan looked at Nikki, and she looked at him with those bottomless blue eyes and gave him a shy smirk. He sighed. Parting would be such a sweet sorrow. He knew that was how it would have to be. Such was the loneliness of command.
NHA TRANG. VIETNAM.
SHE WAITED UNDER THE shade of the fronds of a palm tree near the Long Son Pagoda. The large white statue of the Buddha was nearby. The Pagoda and monastery was a quiet soothing place. The beautiful and Taoist architecture, carvings of mythical animals and sculptures of Taoist gods.
Three tourists wandered by, then stopped to take selfies with their cell phones. She smiled, at least they were Samsungs.
It’s elegant and dominant three-tier roofed entrance ornate with dragon mosaics. Large temple grounds decorated with tastefully potted vegetation, all green and reds.
She’d ditched her Asian hooker clothes from New York and wore a flowered summer dress, sporting plants, flowers and parrots.
THE MONK APPROACHED her, smiling. “Hello, Charlie Victor One five one. Or should I call you Yeon-mi?”
“Hello, Chief Ji-hu.”
“You did well, Yeon-mi. It went well. Better than we could have hoped. The Americans have humbled Kim Jong-un. You will be the toast of Seoul; well, maybe the toast of the National Intelligence Service. Most of the nation won’t be aware of our part in the events.”
“You played your part too Chief Ji-hu,” she smiled.
“I’m just glad I don’t have to dress like a hooker in New York now.” He smiled.
“We thought you made a convincing Chinese MSS agent.” She snorted.
“We both played our part in truth. You, Yeon-mi, leaning on National Security Advisor Stockhaisen to restrain the President until we were ready. And I, playing a Buddhist monk persuading Peekaboo to reconcile things with her father, thus freeing him from the Ministry of State Security’s grasp.” Chief Ji-hu laughed. “Or should I say, your grasp Charlie Victor one five one,” he smiled.
“It’ll have to be kept quiet, Sir.”
“Yes, it will Yeon-mi,” his voice a whisper. “The Americans cannot know. Never.”
“Chief Ji-hu, could I ask you something?” He nodded. “Why is it that you are here? Why isn’t a section Chief of the National Intelligence Agency at the headquarters in Seoul?”
He smiled at his agent. “That would be telling, Yeon-mi.”
“I’M ALESSANDRA CRISTOFORETTI and you’re watching NBC’s 40 minutes. The situation on the Korean peninsula is easing. The Chilean President is currently in Pyongyang for talks. She’s certainly been racking up the air miles shuttling between Washington and Pyongyang. Both sides are pulling back after some harsh words, and we’ve not seen the pink lady since her famous finger pointing cursing blast at the US. It seems that Kim Jong-un is licking his wounds for now. We contacted National Security Advisor Stockhaisen, who’s on vacation in the Florida Keys with his daughter Peekaboo, and he told us there could be tantrums down the line. Put your trust in God, but mind to keep your powder dry.”
She turned to the camera.
“This is Alessandra Cristoforetti and you’re watching NBC’s 40 minutes.”
TWO DAYS AFTER THEIR arrival, Nathan looked up at the departures screen. He was sitting at departure gate 12 at San Diego International Airport. There it was, United Airlines, forty minutes to go.
Little Rock, Arkansas via Houston. He would be back home for two weeks’ leave. Back to reality; it would be a rest and he supposed he could do with that.
But he knew it would somehow be an empty rest. Not what it might have been. Nathan sighed and shook his head.
He opened his magazine. He was vaguely aware of a woman who approached and stood before him.
“Golf? I didn’t have you down as a golfer,” she said.
He looked up and stared in amazement. “Nikki? What? I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I didn’t expect to be here until last night. I tried to pluck up the courage to call you, but I couldn’t. So I thought I’d just turn up.” She swallowed. “Can I come with you, Nathan? Spend some time together?”
“Yeah, great! Wow, I’m surprised. Pleased too.” He stood in front of her, smiled at her, reached out to her face and stroked her soft cheek. He kissed her on the forehead. They hugged and kissed. “Oh wow. Nikki, I wanted to call you too, but I didn’t know how you’d take it.”
She smiled and laughed. “I’d have grabbed at the chance.”
“Come on, sit.”
She sat and, placing her arm on his back, reached up and affectionately stroked the back of his neck. He smiled and lost himself in her bewitching gaze.
“I think we’re going to enjoy this Nathan.”
THE SPRATLY INCIDENT.
THE SOUTH CHINA SEA dispute.
FORWORD.
The scenario in this book is not entirely fictional.
The People’s Republic of China is turning many of the islands and reefs of the South China sea into sea fortresses, complete with harbours, aircraft runways and air defenses.
This resource-rich territory is disputed by China, Vietnam, The Philippines, Taiwan and others.
The interview and discussion you will read in chapter one between Alessandra Cristoforetti and Dr Michael Illenescu tells it like it is. It’s fast turning into one of the world’s flashpoints.
For further reading including photographs of the Islands see these:-
HTTPS://AMTI.CSIS.ORG/airstrips-near-completion/
HTTPS://AMTI.CSIS.ORG/airstrips-scs/
HTTPS://AMTI.CSIS.ORG/chinas-new-spratly-island-defenses/
STEPHEN MAKK. 2018.
Chapter 1
THE SCARBOROUGH SHOAL. The South China sea.
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY miles west of Luzon. The Philippines.
A BLUE CALM SEA STRETCHED out to the west, and a warm, low haze lay placidly over the surface. Captain Daniel Ramos looked through binoculars out to the west. The BRP Rajah Lakandula, a Philippine navy Corvette, rolled gently in the long ocean swell.
It was a day for quiet, peaceful relaxation. It wasn’t a day for violence, but the day had other ideas.
He left the bridge and looked east; he could just make out the shoal. It was a low dark line on the surface around eight miles away. Captain Ramos returned to the bridge. He unhooked the intercom and called the control room.
“Lieutenant Commander Gomez, what’s she up to now?”
The Principal Warfare Officer looked at the radar screen.
Captain Ramos knew that out there to the west was a Chinese Luyang II class Destroyer, of the People’s Liberation Army Navy. She’d been making herself a nuisance all day, supporting China’s claim to the Scarborough Shoal. Ramos knew the shoal was Philippine territory.
“Sir, she’s come about and is making another run at us from the west. She’s come closer, now just nine miles west of us. She’s speeded up too. Same pattern as the last three hours. Making a dash for us, then returning to the west. Every time she dashes to the east, she gets closer. We’re being painted by her S band search radar.”
“She’s trying to threaten us, like a shark running towards another large fish.”
“Yes sir, I agree. She’s hoping we’ll be scared away.”
The Captain shook his head. “We’re in Philippine territory this close to the shoal. I’m not leaving. Lieutenant Commander, illuminate him with the fire control radar.”
“Yes sir. Radar active, target acquired.”
Long moments went by.
“Sir, I’m picking up a fire control radar, it’s a MR331. NATO code name, Band Stan
d.”
“We’ll stay where we are. They’re just a sea bully.”
A minute later, “Sir, tracking incoming. We have an incoming missile, speed mach point nine; classified as a type C802. It’s gone active with a homing radar.”
Shit. “Battle stations, battle stations! Come to two seven zero degrees.”
He could only present as little a surface area as possible to the missile and eject chaff as it approached. He looked through the binoculars. There it was, he could see the exhaust trail. It was coming in frighteningly fast.
“Dispense chaff, port side.” Launchers ejected canisters high to port and the chaff cloud bloomed. It seemed at first to be going for the cloud, and then turned into the ship at the port forward quarter. The 365lb warhead of high explosives penetrated deep into the Corvette and exploded. She split in two, ripped open by the powerful explosion, and soon went down.
“I’M ALESSANDRA CRISTOFORETTI and you’re watching NBC’s 40 minutes.
The tension in the South China Sea has ratcheted up several notches with the dramatic news of the sinking of a Philippine Navy Corvette. A missile launched by a Chinese People’s Liberation Army Navy Destroyer sank the BRP Rajah Lakandula, just west of the Scarborough Shoal. The thirteen hundred ton vessel carried a crew of ninety three; no survivors have been found so far.
Just what is it with the South China Sea? Why are there conflicting claims and counterclaims competing over the area? I have on the line Dr Michael Illenescu from the University of Queensland’s school of Oriental Studies in Brisbane, Australia. Thank you for joining us today; I know it’s early in the morning over there. Can you describe the situation for our viewers?”
