Flash Point

by Kenneth Andrus

  “Not with certainty.”

  “What’s the outlook for the People’s Congress?” Stuart prodded.

  “They’ll follow the party line.”

  Stuart rolled his eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “The People’s Congress should provide us some sense of the balance of power within the government, but it’s just too far in the future.”

  Not placated, Stuart looked at his watch and cut off any further discussion. “That’s another ‘should.’ We need to move on. Sheldon?”

  “Mr. President, the PLA has not moved to a heightened alert status. Military communications remain at normal levels and surveillance has not detected any increase in activity at their air or naval bases.”

  “What about their flotilla?”

  “The ships are returning to their home port with the exception of an auxiliary and a destroyer escort. Those two remain forward deployed. The AFP has informed our military attaché in Manila they are working with the Chinese to arrange for the transfer of the surviving crewmembers of the two patrol boats. Both sides aren’t saying anything publicly about their negotiations.”

  “Working to cool things down?”

  Valardi took a sip of ice water. “Presumably, but they’re still taking jabs at each other.”

  “What are they saying?” Stuart asked.

  “A spokesperson for President Montalvo said Manila will look into Beijing’s protest over Scarborough Shoal,” Valardi said.

  “At least that’s a start.”

  “Yes, but in the same breath they requested China provide a response to a protest submitted months ago concerning Beijing’s occupation of Mischief Reef. The statement concluded by saying there was no need for protest and counter protest if each party followed the Code of Conduct proposed in the Manila Accords.”

  “That’s a subtle dig,” Brown said. “The Code’s provisions for maintaining the status quo was signed by every regional country with a vested interest, except China.”

  Payne referred to his briefing book. “Precisely. I’m sure that’s why Montalvo issued a press release from Malacanang Palace stating he ordered General Medeiros to strengthen the navy’s presence in the Kalayaan Island group and intensify aerial surveillance of Panganiban Reef.”

  “Bob, what do they have? It can’t amount to much.”

  “They’re pretty much at the bottom of the barrel when it comes to deployable assets. Medeiros ordered two more patrol boats to sea in an essentially a symbolic gesture.”

  “Anything we can do to assist?”

  “Besides leaving the Lincoln in the area for a few more days, we can put together a military assistance package that will marginally increase their capability over time,”

  “But the Philippine military is in such a sorry state, it’ll take years and an infusion of billions of dollars to build an effective force.”

  “True enough,” Payne said.

  Stuart glanced at TR’s portrait. This wasn’t the time to debate outcomes, they needed to charge the hill. “What do we need to do to push this foreword?”

  “I’d suggest we frame our policy around the Status of Forces Agreement and Mutual Defense Treaty. I’d like to have my Assistant Secretary for Internal Security Affairs, Jim Crenshaw, begin working these with PACOM.”

  Stuart redirected Payne’s suggestion. “Richard?”

  “I’ll hook him up with Adrian Clarke. Adrian’s working the draft for a new approach, the Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement.”

  “Work the details and get them on the road. Richard, have we heard anything from the Japanese?”

  Valardi jotted down a note as he answered. “Yesterday their Foreign Minister met with our ambassador. He expressed his government’s concern about the implications for regional stability and appealed for calm. He made it clear Tokyo would not view with favor the use of our bases on Japanese territory as staging points for any action against the Chinese.”

  “I don’t like the tone of those remarks,” Gilmore said.

  “We need to put them in context,” Brown replied. “They have any number of economic agreements in the works with Beijing that will be jeopardized if the Chinese wanted to put the squeeze on them.”

  “Keep the Japanese in the loop and add Tokyo to Clarke’s itinerary,” Stuart said. “Bob, you’re up.”

  “Short term, the Lincoln has to remain in the area. We tasked Seventh Fleet to look at CTF-70’s upcoming deployment in case the Washington has to relieve her on station. Long term, we need to take a hard look at our OPLANs.”

  “I concur. What else?”

  “We stood up the Joint Task Force 519 at Makalapa. The augmentation requirements for the command and control element have been identified. PacFleet is bringing in their analysts and planners.”

  “Any problems?”

  “A few turf issues to resolve with the special ops component.”

  Stuart cocked his head.

  “Nothing we haven’t seen before.”

  “Bryce, you’re up,” Stuart said.

  “We have intelligence from our sources in the Philippine Department of Foreign Affairs linking both the diplomatic and military assistance issues. There’s also considerable interest in renewing the RP-US joint military training exercises on the scale of those in the past. The AFP wants to tie these to the Mutual Logistics and Support Agreement negotiations. Sheldon, you have anything to add?”

  “The MLSA is structured as a continuance of the executive agreements negotiated in support of the war on terrorism. These provided the framework for the military equipment brought in by our forces for the Balikantan 06-1 war games in Basilan a couple of years ago.”

  Valardi’s eyebrows knotted. “The Philippine government hasn’t approached us on any of these issues.”

  “I suspect there are any number of reasons,” Gilmore said. “For starters, the opposition by the Foreign Affairs Secretary, Florencia Cruz, and key opposition members of the Senate.”

  “I understand the Senate, but isn’t the Secretary on our team?”

  “We have a well-placed national who says he’s angling to make a run for the Presidency.”

  “Who’s your source?” Valardi asked.

  Gilmore ignored the question. “The Chief of the Philippine National Police informed us he has unequivocal evidence the Chinese have their hand in stirring up the public demonstrations against a renewed American presence.”

  “Oh?” Valardi sputtered. “This explains their ambivalence to our overtures. Is the Secretary tied to this?”

  “Not that we know of.”

  “Then he may rethink his stance. In any event, Malacanang should be more receptive to our proposals.”

  Gilmore looked at Stuart. “We can exert some subtle influence on the key players.”

  Stuart kept his face expressionless, but his brain was spinning. Now what in the hell else is going on that I don’t know about? Instead of pursuing an answer, he ended the conversation.

  “One more thing. The Foreign Ministers of the ten ASEAN countries met in Kuala Lumpur this past week and delayed signing the draft document, ‘The Declaration on the Conduct of Parties in the South China Sea.’”

  “What’s its significance?” Payne asked.

  “The document provides the framework to resolve disputes in the region. The meeting broke up with a press release stating it couldn’t be signed. Numerous changes in the wording couldn’t be resolved.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Stuart said.

  “Par for the course, sir.”

  “We’ll deal with it. Justin, you’re up.”

  “There are two venues where we can exert our influence to get the Declaration untracked; the Council for Security Cooperation in the Asia-Pacific and the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation summit.”

  Stuart placed his hands on the table. “We need to wrap up. Justin, what haven’t we covered?”

  “We’ll need to brief the Congressional leadership. It won’t take
much to stir up the House International Relations Committee when this gets out. They’re already raising hell about the trade deficit.”

  “Dan has that,” replied Stuart in a tone that was much calmer than he felt. “I’ll be meeting with them this afternoon. I’ll want you and Sheldon there. Set up a minimal notice press conference with the leadership. I want them standing at my side.”

  “Mr. President?”

  Stuart couldn’t conceal the fatigue in his voice. “What’s on your mind, Justin?”

  “We haven’t had enough time to gauge Beijing’s reaction.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I’d take our lead from Manila.”

  “Is State comfortable with that?”

  “We told Manila to put a muzzle on anything pertaining to the P-8 incident,” Valardi replied.

  “What about the press?”

  “Malacanang announced the repatriation of the Chinese sailors they rescued. We can build on that,” Brown answered.

  “Interesting choice of words,” Payne said.

  “Yes,” Valardi answered. “They reflect the tacit agreement Manila and Beijing reached to defuse the situation.”

  “And the press?” Stuart persisted.

  “I’ll take that,” Brown said. “We should acknowledge the public statements made by the Chinese and Philippine governments. Our official position remains the same.”

  Payne spoke. “The press release should state the United States ‘views with concern’ the crisis in the South China Sea and that we will take those measures we deem necessary to maintain our interests in the region consistent with our long-standing position regarding existing treaties and freedom of navigation.”

  The harshness of the language alarmed Valardi. “My office can craft the appropriate language.”

  “Work the press release with John. I want to review the draft this afternoon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Gentlemen, we’re going to push forward on four fronts: diplomatic, economic, military, and covert. Justin has the lead and will prepare a National Security Policy Directive for my signature. Bryce will brief each of you on his operation. It is classified Top Secret - Eyes Only, code word: BLUE HORIZON.”

  Chapter 19

  PEARL HARBOR, HAWAII

  06:38 WEDNESDAY 26 FEBRUARY

  The morning sun highlighted the crater rim of Diamond Head and, across the island at Pearl Harbor, the soft trade winds stirred the fronds of the coconut palms. A solitary runner shattered the serenity of the new day.

  Mike Rohrbaugh pounded across the wooden planks of the narrow pedestrian bridge spanning a listless stream. He entered a curve in the pathway and eased his pace to a comfortable jog before pulling up across from the Pacific Fleet boathouse.

  His morning run had taken him along the narrow path paralleling the shore of East Lock, past Pearl Ridge, and beyond the power plant to his turn-around point three miles out. He would have caught a glimpse of the new Advanced SEAL Delivery System facility situated on the Pearl City peninsula had he gone a little farther.

  Rohrbaugh clasped his hands behind his head, took several deep breaths, and dropped to the ground to pump out the first of several sets of pushups. He flipped over to stretch his legs. Things were beginning to look up.

  At least for this morning anyway, he cautioned himself. On tap to conduct a site visit to SEAL Delivery Vehicle Team One, he had a follow-up Action Officer meeting scheduled later in the day at SubPac.

  The thought elicited a self-deprecating snort. Action Officer. Yeah, right.

  He was not a great fan of meetings, considering most of them monumental wastes of time. More often than not, he would find himself sitting on his butt listening to endless blather about somebody’s inconsequential pet project.

  He smiled at this assessment. Boy, you’re on a tear this morning.

  He recalibrated his attitude, reminding himself that this particular conference actually held promise. The brief was hosted by the Commander, Submarine Forces Pacific and would be his first opportunity to review the operational lash-up of the Advanced SEAL Delivery System with the Expeditionary Strikes Groups. He was curious how those efforts would pan out. The ESG concept of operations held real possibilities, and he was already working details on how they’d integrate with OPLAN 1729.

  He jumped to his feet. Up and at it. The day isn’t getting any younger.

  * * *

  DRY-DECK OPERATIONS FACILITY

  SEAL DELIVERY VEHICLE TEAM ONE

  07:45

  “Hey, Skipper. You’re sure a sight for sore eyes.”

  Chief Hull Technician Dante Vasquez strode across expanse of the dry-deck operations facility, delighted to see his old team leader. “I didn’t know you were coming over, sir. Hell, nobody tells me anything around here.”

  “No secret, Chief, just early,” Rohrbaugh replied, gripping Vasquez’s outstretched hand. “I’m here for the hot wash. Rumor has it you’re part of the team. You behaving?”

  “Oh, as much as I can, sir, considering everything. Have you heard from the guys?”

  Rohrbaugh sized up his former teammate. “Nope, nothing lately.”

  Vasquez had been injured in a training mishap while they were in the field together. He’d barely made it out. A further blow came when a medical board failed to clear him to return to a SEAL team. He took a new tact after the decision and targeted the Deep Submergence Program Office of the Naval Sea Systems Command. The Directorate program officer overseeing the ASDS project relented under Vasquez’s onslaught and assigned him as a supporting chief for the two-member crews performing the tests and evaluations of the new mini-sub.

  Rohrbaugh looked over Vasquez’s shoulder and cast a professional eye at the sub. “Give me a tour after the brief?”

  “Yes, sir. She’s a great piece of gear. None finer. The teams love it. We’ll need to take you out.”

  “Roger that, Chief. Right now, I need to know the heading for the conference room.”

  “Aye, aye, Commander. If you’ll follow me to the break in the bulkhead, sir.”

  Rohrbaugh returned to the dry-deck shelter an hour later. He caught sight of Vasquez near the bow of the ASDS. His path took him along the full length of the submersible.

  Stern planes and prop look pretty much like a fast attack boat. Lighter colored rectangle centered in the hull. Side-looking sonar? Smaller panel? A bow thruster? Gull wing access door presumably for the crew. Humm, no sail like a regular submarine. Wonder how you see out of the damn thing?

  Vasquez looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Hey, Commander, how was the brief?”

  “You ought to know the answer to that.”

  “Yes, sir. I do, sir. I stand corrected, sir.”

  “Right answer.”

  Vasquez smiled and waved his arm in the general direction of the ASDS. “You like her?”

  “How about you tell me?”

  “Aye, aye. I’ll start with the basics. Displaces fifty-five tons on the surface, 65 feet long, 8-foot diameter. The two-man operating crew is situated in a forward compartment. Eight-man team rides dry in the pressurized compartment aft. Plenty of room for mission-configured cargo. Lockin/Lockout from the hyperbaric chamber allows egress at considerable depth. Speed, max submerged depth, range and endurance classified top-secret. All ‘Need to Know,’ sir.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Roger that, sir. Actually, there’s a little more to the story.”

  “So, I’ve heard.”

  “Yes, sir. The acceptance trails set us back. We had to wait until the new lithium ion technology was perfected. Another piece was the propeller. The cavitation gave us an unsat acoustic signature. Damn near anyone could have heard us coming. At any rate, we looked at the number of blades and configuration of the cruciform vortex dissipaters and got a good fix. The redesigned propeller system has eliminated the noise and given us a top end of eight knots submerged.

  “Matter of fact, you wouldn’t bel
ieve what we went through to find the ideal type of steel for blast/shock hardening. The engineers had to...”

  Vasquez’s voice trailed off when Rohrbaugh’s eyes began to glaze. “Ah, sorry for the dive into the weeds.”

  “No problem, Chief, but you were leaving me behind. Do we still have those two subs configured?”

  “Yes, sir. Both the Greenville and Charlotte are fitted with latching pylons. Better yet, the Carter is on her way. She’s a real force multiplier. Say, Skipper, you got a minute for me to show you the ropes?”

  “Lead the way.”

  “Step lively, sir.”

  Vasquez climbed up the ladder leading up to the open gull-wing door of the control room and eased into the right-hand co-pilot’s seat. Rohrbaugh followed and settled in beside him.

  “Welcome aboard Boat One, Skipper. I’ll let you drive.”

  “Fine, and just how would I go about doing that?”

  Vasquez pulled a set of car keys out his pocket and jangled them.

  “Alright, knock it off.”

  Rohrbaugh tapped the joystick set before him. “This have anything to do with it?”

  “Roger that, sir. The joystick’s a great idea. Gives you a real feel for the boat.”

  “How do you see where in hell you’re going?”

  A non-hull-penetrating periscope is paired up with the snorkel. That unit and the radio/ESM mast fold back on the hull for stowage. Our inertial guidance is outstanding. Sure beats our old open water navigation system. All we have to do is plug in our predetermined course, speed and depth into the computer. The navigation system guides us hands-off through the entered waypoints.”

  Rohrbaugh whistled. “Impressive.”

  “The boat commander pilots the sub from your seat. Delicate maneuvering is executed by retractable bow and stern thrusters.”

  “How’s he selected?”

  “All the pilots are department head tour submariners selected from a pool of volunteers. Before they start training, they complete the five-week Navy Dive School course in Panama City.”

  “Makes sense. The copilot?”

  “Post platoon commander, SDV qualified.”

  “Good to have one of our guys up front.”