by Larry Bond
Jerry smiled and nodded. His eyes wandered around the outer office as he waited for the yeoman to return. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Sir, the commodore will see you now.”
Thanking the yeoman, Jerry walked smartly into Simonis’s office and snapped to attention. “Commanding Officer, USS North Dakota, reporting as ordered, sir.”
Simonis was over by his side table, refilling his coffee mug. Without even looking in Jerry’s direction he ordered, “Please close the door, Captain. Then take a seat.”
Jerry carefully shut the door and strode quickly to the conference table. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Simonis walked slowly by his desk, and picked up a folder. He threw it onto the table and sat down. Jerry noticed the commodore hadn’t bothered to offer him any coffee this time, a bad omen.
“Congratulations, Captain, your harebrained scheme has been approved by the president,” Simonis began sarcastically. “And it gets even better. My squadron has been ordered to carry out this fool’s errand. Your ditsy buddy, Dr. Patterson, is leaving Hawaii within the hour with twelve modified Mark 48 torpedoes. She’ll arrive around 1930. Shortly thereafter we’ll begin loading three nuclear-armed torpedoes on each submarine. North Dakota will be the first to depart at 1200 tomorrow.”
Jerry was angered by Simonis’s disrespectful tone when he spoke of Joanna, but Jerry kept his response short and professional. “Understood, Commodore, we’ll be standing by to receive the weapons by 1915. Is there anything else?”
“Anything else? I would think starting a nuclear war is quite enough, don’t you, Captain?”
“I don’t believe this demonstration will trigger a nuclear exchange, Commodore,” Jerry answered tersely. “And apparently neither does the president.”
“Well, I’m sure that will be of great comfort to the survivors after a city or two is vaporized,” sniped Simonis.
Jerry had had enough. “Permission to speak frankly, sir.”
“By all means, Captain.”
“If you disagree so strongly with this course of action, why don’t you ask to be relieved?”
“Because it wouldn’t do any good. They’d just bring in someone who’d follow the orders of an asinine academic who’s trying to get reelected!” Simonis replied angrily.
“So, you’ll just sit here and badmouth the president, the deputy national security advisor, or anyone else who happens to disagree with you. Contempt of an official is a UCMJ violation, Commodore, Article 88 if I remember correctly,” Jerry shot back.
Simonis became enraged. Jumping to his feet, he howled, “HOW DARE YOU LECTURE—”
“YES, COMMODORE! I DO DARE,” shouted Jerry just as loudly. “Your behavior is unprofessional and a disgrace! IF you are so convinced these orders are a disaster in the making, then show some courage and ask to be relieved! Otherwise, stop this passive-aggressive bullshit and do your job!”
Simonis sat back down, stunned; he was unaccustomed to subordinates fighting back. His jaw was tight, his fists balled, he was visibly shaking. “And what makes you so damn sure this will work? How do you know you’re right!?” he growled through clenched teeth.
“How do I know it will work, Commodore?” replied Jerry with a lower, less adversarial tone. “Honestly, I don’t know. But in looking at the president’s likely options, it seems to be the path with the least risk.”
“Least risk!?” Simonis wailed. “You obviously don’t see the big picture, Captain. The least risk is for us to remain neutral. Stay out of the fight completely!”
“Is that really true, Commodore?” pushed Jerry. “Let’s analyze that hypothesis. Staying neutral all but ensures the fighting goes on for a whole lot longer. Eventually, China will likely win, but their economy will be down the toilet. This will cause a global economic meltdown as bad, or conceivably even worse, than the Great Depression of the 1930s, that will drag us down as well. Just look at the economic impact the war has already had on the U.S. and Europe. A collapse is unavoidable; our economies are too interconnected. Every newspaper article and official government report I’ve read all say the same thing—unprecedented unemployment, soaring poverty, and the government safety net can’t possibly catch them all.
“Politically, the U.S. will be viewed as untrustworthy. At the very least we’ll be pushed out of the Pacific Rim, because we refused to honor our treaty commitments. I know that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but the blame game isn’t exactly logical. We’ll be blamed for their loss, even though the Littoral Alliance rejected the president’s repeated attempts at mediation. This will also raise doubts with other countries as to whether we’ll honor our security agreements with them. Coupled with our own economic problems, U.S. influence will be severely compromised.
“And I haven’t even begun to address the humanitarian disaster this war will cause if it continues. Every continent will be affected, some far worse than others. Definitely China and the Littoral Alliance will suffer more civilian casualties, but the impact on developing nations following the economic collapse will be catastrophic.
“No, sir. The bigger picture painted by staying neutral is dismal, even if we ignore the significant loss of life, worldwide, this war will cause. The U.S. will emerge from it fiscally broke, politically feeble, a superpower in military terms only. Which is why the president has already chosen not to adopt that strategy, you know this better than I. PACOM has already started implementing major parts of OPLAN 5077. Come tomorrow, one way or another, my boat leaves for war.
“So, either we shock the crap out of both the Chinese and the alliance, get them to see the oncoming train wreck, or we start shooting Chinese targets. And once we push their back up against the wall, the Chinese will feel compelled to resort to a nuclear demonstration to stave off defeat. That’s when a city or two will be vaporized. They may not be ours, but that distinction won’t matter a whole hell of a lot. After that, things will go downhill really fast.”
“I don’t buy the use of nuclear weapons, period, Mitchell,” said Simonis, still strained. “It is too easy to misinterpret the message we’re trying to send.”
“I’m not saying there isn’t any risk, Commodore,” argued Jerry. “All I’m saying is that the risk of a preemptive demonstration out in the middle of the ocean is lower than escalation to the point where nuclear weapons are used against an actual target.
“Think about it. There really is very little to misinterpret. The first warning the Littoral Alliance and China will have is when the warheads detonate. They’ll know they went off, and they’ll know they went off far from their homelands. That’s why our squadron got tasked with this mission; we’ve got the stealth and the weapons to pull it off. This has to be a bolt out of the frickin’ blue, no warning, just a lot of big bangs that will shock the living daylights outta them, hopefully enough to bring everyone to their senses.”
Simonis didn’t respond immediately. He just sat there, his mind working its way through Jerry’s explanation. On the plus side, the crimson hue had drained from the commodore’s face and his hands were no longer clenched tight. After nearly a minute of silence, Simonis took a deep breath; he seemed calmer, but his voice was still tense as he spoke. “Thank you for your explanation, Captain. I’m still not completely convinced this is the right thing to do, but I now see there is some logic behind it. I must admit that I’m greatly concerned about the possibility of a Chinese retaliation. This island makes for a splendid demonstration target.”
Jerry smiled weakly. “The thought had occurred to me as well, sir. I just didn’t think it would be very constructive for me to bring it up.”
“You’re correct, it wouldn’t,” replied Simonis sternly. “I have a lot of people and their families here, Captain, and I’m responsible for their welfare. It’s difficult for me to watch this situation as it deteriorates, and know that I have absolutely no control over what’s going on. It’s not a pleasant feeling being helpless.”
“I completely understand, sir. I
believe that was the point you had to ram down my throat earlier.” Jerry grinned as he spoke. To his relief, Simonis broke out laughing.
“I guess I’d make a rather poor psychiatrist. Beating one’s patients about the head and shoulders is usually frowned upon.”
“Well, I can certainly vouch for the effectiveness of the treatment,” Jerry said with a wink. “But your bedside manner could use some work.”
Simonis smiled as he nodded. “Got it. I’ll make sure it’s on my next counseling form.”
Rising, the commodore extended his hand to Jerry, who grasped it firmly. “I expect you and your crew to carry out your assignment flawlessly, Captain,” remarked Simonis firmly.
“Understood, sir. I’ll try not to disappoint you.”
“I know you won’t, Captain.”
14 September 2016
1930 Local Time
Andersen Air Force Base
Guam
Simonis watched as the C-17 Globemaster III transport aircraft pulled up to the hangar. The immediate location was swarming with air force security personnel. The roads to the submarine piers had been closed to civilian traffic, and marines lined the entire route. Security was so tight, one would have thought the president of the United States was coming for a visit.
As the aircraft’s turbine engines wound down, the cargo ramp began lowering; more security personnel jumped out of the back of the aircraft and quickly set up a perimeter. Marine guards ran forward with the trucks as they moved into position to receive the “special torpedoes.” Soon Simonis saw the forward crew door open. The access ladder extended out and reached for the tarmac. Once the ladder was down, Dr. Patterson emerged from the airplane along with a small entourage. Simonis walked briskly up to meet her.
“Welcome back to Guam, Dr. Patterson.”
“Thank you, Captain,” she replied. Joanna then pointed to the two officers accompanying her. “Captain Simonis, this is Colonel Thomas and Chief Warrant Officer Four Harris, they’re in charge of preparing and supervising the loading of the weapons. Gentlemen, Captain Simonis is the commodore of Submarine Squadron Fifteen.”
After a brief exchange of greetings, both Thomas and Harris excused themselves and marched over to the cargo ramp to supervise the unloading. Patterson, her two guards, and Simonis headed toward a row of parked cars.
“The entire route from here to the submarines has been cordoned off, and there are Marines stationed in armed HUMVEEs every half mile. The air force security forces squadron has set up patrols all around the base perimeter. To quote the base commander, ‘a seagull would need a pass to get in here,’” Simonis reported.
“Excellent, Captain. Did the governor give you any grief?”
Simonis chuckled. “There was some friction at first. He wasn’t happy with us shutting down several of the main streets for a couple of hours, but the call from the secretary of state solved that problem.”
“Good! The sooner we get these weapons on the boats, the happier I’ll be,” Patterson exclaimed.
For the rest of the brief walk to the cars, Simonis and Patterson were silent. But as Simonis opened one of the car’s rear doors for Joanna he finally said, “Dr. Patterson, I must admit I’m not a particular fan of Mitchell’s proposal. It would make my job a lot easier if I knew this plan had been thoroughly discussed with the president before he made his decision.”
Joanna initially looked puzzled, then a grin slowly lit on her face. “Ohh, yes, Captain, there was a long, and at times very heated discussion. The president basically convened an impromptu meeting of the NSC right after the VTC and he heard everyone’s views. I can assure you the topic was discussed in detail, and his decision was not made lightly.”
“I see,” said Simonis, somewhat satisfied. “If you’re allowed to say, I’d like to know what some of the objections were.”
“I’m sorry, Captain, but I’m not at liberty to go into details of the discussion with the president,” replied Joanna. She saw the disappointment on his face, but she was also sympathetic to the issue he was wrestling with. Joanna took a deep breath and spoke softly. “What I can tell you is that there were two strongly held opinions. But by the end of the meeting, only one member objected to implementing Jerry’s idea. The rest, including myself, felt it was the best option available to us.”
Simonis nodded his understanding. “Sounds very much like the same conversation I had with Commander Mitchell this morning. He doesn’t back down much, does he?”
Joanna laughed, clearly amused. “No, Commodore, Jerry has a stubborn streak in him. He’s also not the greatest at being tactful, a trait I fear he learned from my husband.”
“Your husband?” asked Simonis, confused. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You know my husband was Jerry’s first CO, on USS Memphis, don’t you?” she asked tentatively.
“Yes, I’m aware of Mitchell’s record,” Simonis responded, still uncertain as to what she meant.
Patterson nodded and continued with her explanation. “Lowell ran a very tight ship, and even he admits he could be a difficult man to work for. He and Jerry went at it, hammer and tongs, on more than one occasion. Both men can be stubborn as mules, God knows. But Jerry was able to hold his own, largely by being brutally honest and straightforward, and Lowell begrudgingly respected him for it. They are now very close friends. No, sir, if Jerry Mitchell has a strongly held position on a topic, he won’t back down, regardless of the personal cost. Which is why the president finds him so refreshing.”
Joanna slowly scooted into the backseat, and after she’d been flanked on either side by her marine escort, Simonis closed the door and walked quickly to the passenger side. As the convoy left Andersen Air Force Base, Simonis was mentally chewing on the new information Patterson had provided. There was more to Jerry Mitchell than he’d originally thought, much more. And if the vast majority of the president’s advisers felt Mitchell’s idea was their best option, after fighting about it amongst themselves, then perhaps it really was the right thing to do.
14 September 2016
2230 Local Time
Squadron Fifteen Headquarters
Guam
“Attention on deck!” shouted Captain Jacobs. The assembled group quickly came to attention as Simonis and Patterson walked into the conference room.
“As you were,” Simonis boomed. The commodore marched straight up to the podium; he wasted no time in getting the predeployment briefing started.
“My apologies for the late hour of this briefing, but it was unavoidable. As you know, Dr. Patterson has been jumping from boat to boat getting the special weapons prepared and loaded into the torpedo tubes. As her presence was absolutely necessary, we had to wait until she had finished inserting all the PAL codes and had witnessed all the torpedoes being locked in their tubes before we could drag her away for some dinner. I may be able to flog you guys like rented mules, but I have to be a little more lenient with senior administration officials.”
The audience’s laugh was genuine, and Joanna just shrugged her shoulders. Simonis then punched a few buttons and brought up the first briefing slide on the large-screen display. In big, bold letters, the slide was titled OPERATION MINERVA. A low murmur grew from the crowd, along with some snickering.
“All right, pay attention. ‘Operation Minerva’ is the code name for the deployment of eight modified Mark 48 torpedoes with nuclear warheads in the deep-ocean areas adjacent to the South and East China Seas. And I don’t want to hear any guff about the name. I don’t write this crap, so we’ll just have to suffer together. Some faceless bureaucrat named the operation after the Roman goddess of useful knowledge and wisdom—which would be apropos given the goal of this mission. Now, moving on…”
Jerry was following along with the copy of Simonis’s presentation in his briefing binder, but as he turned to the page, he found a single sheet of paper sitting on top of the second slide. It was a hard copy of an e-mail from ONI concerning the commanding offi
cer of INS Chakra. Jerry eagerly began reading its contents. Simonis’s voice faded into the background.
Samant, Girish, CAPT, Indian Navy
• Graduated from Indian Naval Academy in 1995
• Extensive junior officer tours on Project 877E KILO-class submarines, as weapons officer and navigator
• Member of Indian Navy Klub missile acceptance team
• First Officer INS Sindhuvir, S 58
• Graduated from Kings College, Department of War Studies, United Kingdom in 2010
• Commanding Officer, INS Sindhukirti, S 61
• Completed Royal Navy Submarine Command Course “Perisher” in 2014
• First Indian submariner to complete the course
• Promoted to Captain in 2015
• Assigned as INS Chakra Commanding Officer in June 2015
• Strengths: Brilliant tactician, competitive, rated highly by “Perisher” instructor
• Weaknesses: Short-tempered, slightly egotistical
Jerry’s eyebrows rose when he read the line about completing the Perisher course. When he got to the part where it said the Indian was highly rated, he whistled softly and whispered, “Whoa!”
Thigpen heard his skipper and looked over with curiosity. Jerry gave him a stern look and waved a finger at him, signaling that he should be paying attention to the commodore. One of them had to, but at the moment Jerry was busy getting to know Mr. Samant.
After finishing the e-mail, Jerry immediately ran through the three encounters he’d had with the Indian captain. Everything in the ONI e-mail matched his impressions. Samant was as good as Jerry suspected. No, scratch that. If a Royal Navy Perisher Teacher thought he was good, then the Indian was damn good! It suddenly became obvious that Jerry had seriously underestimated the man during the last two meetings. Which is why I lost, he thought to himself.
The rest of the briefing was basically a blur for Jerry. His mind was elsewhere, in the middle of the South China Sea, and focused on a very capable adversary. Strangely, Jerry felt encouraged by the e-mail. He now had something to work with, a man’s identity, an idea of his capabilities. Information Jerry could use to begin planning for their next encounter. And he was absolutely convinced there would be another.
