Winter Kill 2 - China Invades Australia

by Gene Skellig

  For all he knew there could be a quartering tailwind disguised by the ship’s speed. As he thought about it his eyes picked up a white speck on the horizon. He had not been the first to detect the object, and a flurry of activity on the quarterdeck confirmed that something was out there as the sailors sprang to their combat stations.

  General Singh, with no role while at sea, simply watched as the ship’s crew made ready a 50 caliber machine gun equipped with a long-range optical system. Judging by the wires leading from the base of the monstrous lens, he assumed that the telescope had been modified with some sort of digital-optical components. He recalled Commander Malhotra, the ship’s Captain, saying something of the sort.

  That’s right, recalled General Singh, the telescopes on both flying bridges have been rigged to give a digital feed to monitors on the bridge, as was the 360-degree system mounted atop the ship’s very cluttered mast.

  “Great for zooming in on Pirates to see what the buggers are on about,” the ship’s Captain, Commander Malhotra, had said.

  Curious about what the ship’s crew was getting so excited about, the Commander of the Indian Army’s II Corps made his way up the to the Bridge deck to see what was going on. He had to step aside as a pair of helmeted, heavily armed crewmen rushed past, departing the Bridge on some urgent task.

  “Beg’ your pardon, Sardar,” said one of the men to the General as he jostled past the landlubber. The tone of respect in the Master Seaman’s use of the common tribal word for ‘chief’, Sardar, was not lost on Singh, who had found the ship’s crew to be highly proficient and professional. Somehow, the encounter made him feel a bit less awkward aboard the ship, as if the navy personnel truly were behind him and his men, supporting them in their upcoming clash with the Chinese in Australia – more than simply transporting them across the Indian Ocean.

  General Patel found an empty corner on the bridge, and made eye-contact with Commander Malhotra.

  The relaxed nod from the ship’s Captain seemed strange to the General. All around the bridge, men were rushing about as if they were about to go into battle, yet Commander Malhotra sat atop his stool in the center of the bridge as if he were not the least bit interested. But then it all made sense, as a Lieutenant drew the Captain’s attention to one of the monitors, and said something inaudible to the Captain.

  “All quiet on the bridge!” shouted the XO. The Captain leaned forward, finally revealing his level of interest.

  The image on the screen jumped around a bit as the Lieutenant adjusted the controls, and then suddenly a green box flashed on the screen, indicating that the subject now centered in the picture had been locked into focus. From that moment on, the picture remained clear and steady; the camera’s servos made tiny adjustments to compensate for the gyrations caused by wind and wave.

  “Ascharga!” commented one of the naval officers in an expression of surprise that was understood by all, despite its Bengali origins.

  The bridge fell silent as everybody looked at the monitor.

  The speck on the horizon had swelled as the camera had focused in on it. It was a small sailboat, perhaps fifteen meters in length. At first glance it appeared like any other sailboat, but then a few unusual features began to stand out. Even the Army General, a landlubber for all intents and purposes, could see that there was something unusual about the vessel. It seemed to be much wider than a normal sailboat, and the mast had a very strange, stocky appearance.

  “Lieutenant Verma, what flag is that?”

  “Which one, Skipper? The blue one or the red one?”

  “Obviously the blue one, below the Maple Leaf.”

  “I…” the junior officer hesitated, but then remembered the advice he had been given so many times before. If you don’t know, don’t bullshit the skipper. He’ll tear you apart if you pull that crap on him. The XO had said. “I don’t know, Sir.”

  The Captain pursed his mouth. “XO?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest. Looks allied, but not nautical. Could be a vanity flag, or something else that means something only to the ships’ crew. It’s certainly not a known flag of convenience.”

  “Looks a bit like something from the UK, doesn’t it?”

  “Quite, old man. I was just going to say, it looks almost…”

  “Almost what, Parmeet?|

  “Almost Air Force,” the XO said, almost mockingly of the sister service. It was a long established tradition to treat the Air Force – of any nation – as a very junior service in comparison to the many centuries of warfare that the Navy, and the Army for that matter, had in their history before the upstart Indian Aerial Corps had been created just before the First World War.

  “Helm, thirty degrees to port, get us a bit more broadside and bring her down the Starboard side,” Commander Malhotra ordered, seemingly triggered by his XO’s intuition.

  “Aye, Sir, thirty degrees to port.”

  “And the convoy?” asked the XO.

  “They’re still well back. I just want to keep her wide while we assess. No point throwing the convoy into a tizzy.”

  “Aye, Sir.” Replied the XO, not entirely sure about this.

  “Boarding party ready to go, Sir!” Shouted Lieutenant Verma.

  “Deploy the boarding party. No change to task,” ordered the skipper.

  On another monitor, the six-man boarding party could be seen settling into their Rigid Hull Inflatable Boat as it was lowered into the sea. No sooner had it contacted the water, and the boarding party settled near the center of the RHIB and the Master Seaman at the controls accelerated the craft briskly over the rolling waves; the experienced sailors hung on and leaned into the swell instinctively.

  As they neared the smaller craft, their weapons trained and ready to fire, they saw the unusual sight of a big bald man standing on the deck of the craft smiling and waving wildly, like he was happy to see the Indian Navy. There was at least one woman with him on deck, and what appeared to be others visible through the small vessel’s portals.

  Back on the bridge of the warship, Commander Malhotra was discussing the ‘Vessel of Interest’ with his most senior passenger when he was interrupted suddenly.

  “Signal from Keeling Island, Sir!” shouted the communications Leading Seaman, handing the printout to the Skipper, the XO reading over his shoulder.

  After a few seconds the skipper handed the transcript to his XO and ordered: “Recall the boarding party, resume course and speed. Signal starboard elements of the convoy to keep an eye out for the vessel. Change contact from Uniform-23 to Foxtrot-14, confirmed friendly.”

  “Aye Aye, Sir. Recall the boarding party. Resume course and speed, Signal convoy to watch for now confirmed friendly, Foxtrot 14.” Repeated Lieutenant Verma.

  With calm returning to the bridge, the General approached the Captain. “Commander Malhotra, how do you know that sailboat is a friendly? Aren’t you going to at least make contact?”

  Smiling, Commander Malhotra looked up from the small swing-out table fitted to his command chair, where he had been making notes into his personal logbook. “XO, give our ‘brother from another element’ the traffic!

  Without a word, the XO handed the transcript to the General, who struggled at first with what seemed a ridiculously complex series of codes until he found the subject line and numbered paragraphs of the decoded message.

  It was from the Detachment Commander of some sort of outpost of the Royal Australian Air Force, at some place called Keeling Island. The transmission told the General everything he needed to know about the small, unusual vessel with the Canadian flag and Royal Canadian Air Force colors. The information was intriguing, but he soon put it out of his mind as he read on. The message went on to describe a drastic drop in sea level, some seven meters lower since the war started three years before. It speculated that this was due to the drastic drop in temperatures caused by the nuclear winter and the associated deposition of massive quantities of snow in continental areas, particularly of Eurasia and North Am
erica, but also southern Africa and the southernmost areas of Australia.

  For the first time in a generation, the sea level, which had been rising and threatening to inundate so many island communities, had retreated rapidly; the tiny atolls becoming much larger islands. The report went on to describe how the collection of islands that made up the Keeling Islands, by the end of the third year after the Nuclear Extinction War, had become a single formation of over 200 square kilometers. Despite the reduced sunlight of the nuclear winter, the tiny atoll had been transformed into a large island with a massive new area of fertile grassland where the inter-island lagoon had previously been.

  Change had come rapidly to the Australian outpost, which had always been a strategic toehold in the eastern Indian Ocean. But now, with the world at war and so many starving throughout the world, any place where any form of agriculture was viable, had a taken on a new strategic importance, in addition to its location on the strategic lines of communication across the Indian Ocean.

  The operational planners who had put together the resources for the deployment of another Army Corps to add to the expeditionary forces India had already sent to Australia had been excited to learn that evacuees from New Zealanders had brought with a number of sheep with them. They had built up a thriving herd of over two thousand sheep. The report went on to detail dried fish and other agricultural products that the outpost could contribute to the war effort.

  And then the crux of the matter. The outpost needed some technical support, medicine, and the evacuation of a few personnel who needed medical treatment.

  “XO, with that nasty weather coming through Perth starting tomorrow, what do you think about holding back in the Keeling Island area for 48 hours? We could throw together much of what they are asking for, give them some support, and rotate those sea-sick soldiers onto the land for some R &R. We’ll put the convoy at anchor, and patrol the outer perimeter to cover the ASW threat,” Commander Malhotra said.

  The XO smiled, enjoying the potential adventure of exploring the transformed island as much as the idea of getting the poor soldiers a break.

  “Certainly would avoid the low-pressure wave. Maybe we could load up on mutton in the process. I’m sure chef would love the chance to put a few new menu items on in the wardroom.”

  “Make it so,” ordered the Captain.

  While the soldiers of II Corps had enjoyed the R&R and the outpost was provided the required assistance, a few of the slower ships in the convoy had elected to carry on without resting at Keeling Island, out of courtesy for the time it would save the faster ships when they resumed the crossing. It was a risky choice given the possibility of Chines submarines, but the merchantmen were willing to take the risk if it would help speed the convoy to Perth. As it was, it took the warship and the bulk of the convoy several days to retake the slower ships after the respite at the Australian outpost, but the entire convoy was whole again before they were within 1200 kilometers of Perth, much to the relief of the merchant ships’ crews.

  But when the warship’s crew detected inbound military aircraft closing on the convoy, the tension level rose again while they waited for the international friend-or-foe, IFF, transponder to confirm whether the rapidly approaching aircraft was friend or foe. Minutes later, many of the ship’s company made their way to the upper decks of the ship to wave to their countrymen, the aircrews of the Indian Air Force Su-27 multirole fighters who had flown out from the new air base near Perth.

  The jets had been sent out to protect and to welcome the convoy transporting the premier elements of the Indian Army’s strike force, such as the six remaining battalions of the Mechanized Infantry Regiment, the Sikh Light Infantry Regiment, and the 1st and 8th Gorkha Rifles first to the Australian shore at Perth and ultimately into the war. India was sending the II Corps from the Indian Western Command to reinforce what was left of XII Corps of India’s Southern Command which had been the first unit to deploy to Australia when the war had begun. In the actions with the PLA’s 38th Group Army, the XII Corps, particularly the 4th Armored and the 12th Rapid Mechanized Infantry Brigade had been badly mauled and were reportedly barely hanging on, despite the heroic efforts of the Australians to keep throwing new Battalions into the line. What they needed, and what was in critically short supply, was the speed, maneuverability and punch-power of Main Battle Tanks, such as the 58 ton Arjun with its rifled 120mm gun and fully integrated suite of sensors and communications equipment.

  The war for India had started nearly a year before the war with China had broken out around the world. India, with surreptitious support from the United States, had launched a pre-emptive nuclear and conventional missile strike against the radical Islamic forces that had seized control of Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal. The losses on both sides had been staggering, however, the failed Pakistani State had been much worse off than India, as the missile strikes and ultimate invasion and subjugation of Pakistan was militarily successful. It had also put India on a national mobilization for war, which had resulted in sufficient dispersion and military control of national resources such that when the global war with China broke out, India was perhaps the most well-prepared allied nation. They had been devastated by the Russian and American missiles, and had lost hundreds of millions of their population from the blasts, and the starvation and suffering in the years after. However, India had continued to fight on.

  In Australia, the first contingent of the Indian Army, XII Corps, along with a sizeable force of fighter jets and air tankers, had been dispatched immediately into the Australian theatre of war. The IAF fighters and tankers had played a pivotal role in the early battles in western Queensland, where the US Marines out of Darwin and the Australians had achieved a major victory over the 42nd Group Army. However, in New South Wales, where the Indian Army had run headlong into the 38th Group Army, the Chinese had regional air superiority and much more carefully deployed anti-air defenses, and the Indians had sustained staggering losses. But the Indian military were undaunted, and sent replacements of aircraft, warships, and personnel across the Indian Ocean over the past three years to essentially maintain just over a single division to add to the two divisions that the Australians had to put together in the South Australia – to – Victoria sector. This had resulted in a fairly stable contest, with neither side having sufficient resources to lay on a major offensive. Certainly neither side had the three-to-one numerical superiority called for in conventional land forces doctrine.

  Three years ago, in the first few weeks of the war, it had been all about sea and air power, at least in terms of force projection. The life expectancy of a pilot, or a sailor for that matter, was counted in days; all of the larger formations at sea having been destroyed by nuclear detonations from American and Russian Inter-Continental Ballistic Missiles.

  The Chinese had orchestrated the American and Russian nuclear war to commence, and had in some cases subtly adjusted the target lists and warhead assignments to achieve specific results that had been years in the planning. Allied military resources still intact after the missiles attacks abated were hunted down in the days and weeks that followed, taking millions of personnel and vital war-fighting equipment out of the equation worldwide. The losses were particularly harsh for the navies of the world, proving the vulnerability of surface combatants to arsenal ships and other 21st century warfare techniques which largely overwhelmed the superior but ultimately more vulnerable defensive systems of the American Carrier Strike Forces and other naval armadas.

  With several hundred Sea-Launched Cruise Missiles like the 3M-80E SS-N-22’s Sunburst at their disposal, Chinese forces assigned to clear the Malacca Strait of American warships that comprised the CVN78 Gerald R. Ford Carrier Strike Group were able to lay something of a creeping barrage of 30-kiloton detonations, burning out the Carrier Strike Groups defensive systems. They first set off warheads two hundred miles from the Strike Group, and then with moving progressively closer Electro-Magnetic Pulse bursts, until the Guided Missiles Cruisers a
nd organic defense systems of the Gerald R Ford CSG were rendered blind and defenseless. The CSG was converted to vapor, smoke and slag by several detonations right in the center of the formation. Over sixteen thousand personnel and one sixth of the United States sea power in the western Pacific had gone to the bottom of the Straits of Malacca on the first day of the war.

  Whether by nuclear sea mines, torpedoes, or Air Launched Cruise Missiles, the weapon of choice for the Chinese was clearly nuclear, which they seemed to have in abundance.

  In contrast to the unrelenting destruction faced by the USN, the highest value units of the Indian Navy had escaped destruction in the Bengal Sea, as the Chinese had focused more on destroying the CVN-69 Dwight D. Eisenhower Carrier Strike Group, operating just north of the Indian Navy’s Naval Task Force.

  The Arleigh Bourke class destroyer from the Eisenhower CSG had done a valiant job in protecting the aircraft carrier Dwight D. Eisenhower, and had saved the Indians in the process, but had then run into the same problems as the Gerald R. Ford, as the Chinese nuclear ALCM attacks continued until the American carrier was destroyed.

  At the extreme end of the Eisenhower CSG’s defensive umbrella, the Indian Carrier Battle Group had been damaged but not destroyed. The Indian warships escaped to the Indian Ocean where they would be out of range from the arsenal of cruise missiles the Chinese had at their disposal in Myanmar.

  Throughout this phase, the Chinese forces were also being destroyed, as the Allies, having caught on to the Chinese deception at the start of the war, had then hit all Chinese assets with everything they had left. By the end of the first week, the Chinese forces had either been destroyed by American and Russian counter-attacks, or had exhausted their arsenals, or had run out of targets. At this point the war moved into a longer, more desperate phase where the few remaining warships worldwide played cat-and-mouse with each other, attempting to destroy the enemy while not being destroyed themselves.