by Dale Brown
"Attacking? With guns? All we have are guns, sir "I know, I know, "
Tamalko said. He readjusted his heads-up display for air-to-ground
strafing, resetting the depression angle on the HUD to 37 mils. "Where
are the damned ships?" There was a slight pause, and Tamalko thought
that Pilas was either not going to answer or was suffering a nervous
breakdown. Then: "Radar contact, one o'clock, ten miles. Come right
ten degrees. Target heading two-six-zero." Tamalko made the turn and
began pushing up the throttles in military power, saving afterburner
thrust for the final few miles of his pass. ... ABOARD THE CHINESE
FLAGSHIP HONG LUNG "High-speed aircraft approaching Wenshan, sir, "
Captain Lubu reported. "Range sixteen kilometers. No contact on sec ond
aircraft. Wenshan maneuvering to put his aft 57-millimeter guns on the
target."
"He'd better stop turning and start shooting, " Admiral Yin said
half-aloud. "If those planes are carrying Harpoon antiship missiles,
he's run out of time already."
"Emergency message from Wenshan!" a radio operator called out. "They've
run aground!"
"What?" Yin shouted. For the second time, the deep-draft patrol boat
Wenshan had fallen victim to the shoal waters of the South China Sea-and
the second time it had done so at a critical moment, while under attack
from hostile Philippine forces. The image of the dragon drowning in the
ocean rushed upon the Chinese Admiral once again-the battle, it seemed,
always came to him.... "Wenshan is taking water, " the radio operator
reported. "They are requesting fire support and assistance. Casualties
reported."
"Range to that fighter?"
"Range to Wenshan, eight kilometers, " the Combat technician reported.
"Fighter still headed inbound. Passing eleven hundred kilometers per
hour."
"Sir, radar reports the second frigate has appeared over the horizon to
the east, " Captain Lubu reported. "Range thirty-two kilometers,
closing slowly." The Philippine ships were pressing the attack, Yin
thought. So close to utter destruction, and now the mouse is turning to
bite the nose of the tiger. "Order Fuzhou to intercept-"
"Sir, radar reports another contact off to the south, " Lubu
interrupted. "Range thirty-seven kilometers, approaching at medium
speed. They appear to be helicopters, sir. Three helicopters
approaching."
"Missile-launch detection!" Combat reported. "Frigate to the east
launching missiles, sir!" The battle was on in earnest. The reports were
flooding past Admiral Yin almost faster than he could assimilate them.
Faces glanced at him, some doubtful, others accusingly, most of them
fearful. Voices were bombarding him, rising in intensity and volume-the
racket was getting loud, almost deafening. . "Fighter closing to within
five kilometers, sir, " another report cut in. "Wenshan listing to
starboard. Captain Han reports his stern is resting on the bottom and
is unable to move... "Vessel to the south identified as PS-class
corvette, " Lubu reported. "There was a fifth ship out here, Admiral.
The helicopter landing platform.. . it must have separated from the
rest of the Philippine task force and maneuvered to our right flank..."
"Missile-launch detection! Corvette to the south launching missiles .
"Radar contact, third vessel, identified as LF-class fire-support craft.
"Shoal water dead ahead, three meters under the keel. Suggest hard
starboard twenty degrees "Execute turn "Missile-launch detection!
Helicopters launching missiles, sir!" "Chukou reports missile strike on
the waterline, sir!" another report came. "No damage report. . .
lost contact with Chukou..."
"Lost data link with Xingyi, sir. No reports yet. "LF-class
fire-support vessel on suspected torpedo run, sir, " Lubu shouted.
"Range down to eighteen kilometers, speed thirty knots.. "Radar contact
aircraft, range fifty-two kilometers, heading west at high speed, "
another report came. "Fighter aircraft from Puerto Princesa. ETA, five
minutes."
"Sir, " Captain Lubu said, stopping and standing as close to Yin as he
dared, "we are running out of maneuvering room, one patrol boat is
grounded, and the other ships are scattering and disoriented-they are
unable to defend themselves or defend the flagship. Recommend we reduce
speed and provide fire-support coverage for our escorts. Once we are
reorganized, we can steam out of the passage. . Yin appeared not to
have heard him. Not four inches from Captain Lubu's face, Yin was
breathing heavily through his nose. Perspiration was running down the
sides of his temples. His face was flushed, his brow furrowed, his
mouth a tight line. It was as if he were not there, but instead
somewhere else far, far away, thinking... about how there was no way
out. ... about his duty to protect his men, his ship. about saving
face at all costs. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but was
really less than fifteen seconds, Yin unbuttoned the top button of his
tunic, reached inside, and withdrew a large silver key. Lubu's mouth
dropped open in surprise. His eyes grew wide as he realized what it
was. "Sir... Admiral, you cannot f"
"We cannot be razed like this, Captain, " Yin said calmly. "I will not
suffer defeat at the hands of these people." He inserted the key into a
lock on a flat panel on the instrument console in front of his seat,
waited as the door popped open. Inside the compartment was a
red-colored telephone handset with communications cords and several
unmarked buttons. Yin pressed the yellow button. A buzzer sounded
around the entire ship. With Lubu looking on in absolute horror, men
throughout the ship scrambled to prepare for an order that had never
before been executed. . Admiral Yin picked up the red-handled phone
within the unlocked compartment before him on the instrument console.
"This is Admiral Yin, " he said. "Command is Battle Cry. Battle Cry.
Over."
"Initial code verified, " a voice on the other end of the line asked.
"Targets, sir?"
"Target the southern corvette, turn, and target the eastern frigate, "
he said in a low voice. "Execute in three minutes, system automatic.
Authentication is Red Moon. Repeat, Red Moon. Over."
"Understood, sir. Authentication verified. Full connectivity check . .
. received. Execution in three minutes . . . mark. System automatic
engaged. Countdown hold in two minutes. Combat out." Yin replaced the
red phone in its cradle. A crewman dashed up to the two senior officers,
carrying heavy gloves, a heavy black smock that resembled a thick
poncho, and a heavy helmet with large gold protective eye goggles and a
plastic face shield with respirator. Lubu accepted his but did not don
it. "Admiral, I ask you to reconsider. We should receive authority from
headquarters before attempting this Yin allowed the crewman to help him
on with the leadimpregnated smock, placed the helmet on his head,
connected the interphone cords and breathing apparatus, and rolled down
his sleeves. Inside the helmet
, he could hear the reports coming in to
Lubu as each desk and each station reported its Red Moon status.
"Admiral, you must stop this.. ." Lubu persisted. "Two minutes to Red
Moon execution, " the loudspeaker blared. "Two minutes to Red Moon
execution. . . mark. All decks report ready."
"My fleet is surrounded, we are under attack, we are in danger of losing
the Spratly Islands and indeed most of the South China Sea to the
Filipinos, " Yin said through the respirator. His flashblindness
goggles and oxygen mask made him look sinister, even deranged, like a
sea monster from a horror movie. "I have the power to stop them. My
only other choice is to surrender to them, and that I will never do."
"But this will create a disaster of international proportions, " Lubu
argued. "We are too close to the Philippine shoreline. The water is
too shallow-we will do irreparable harm to the coral reefs and the sea
bottom in these shallow waters. You must cancel the order."
"Put on your protective gear and prepare for Red Moon execution,
Captain, " Yin said through the mask and respirator. "That is an
order."
"You cannot do this. We will be in a state of war, with the Filipinos,
the Americans, the entire world."
"Range to the south target?" Yin radioed to Combat. "Thirty kilometers
and closing, " came the reply. "Helicopters at seven kilometers, ETA
three minutes... sensor warning missiles on intercept course, ETA forty
seconds, AA batteries and close-in systems manned and ready. .
"Admiral, please... Captain Lubu shouted, his hands on the armrest of
Yin's chair. "At least . . . at least broadcast a warning message,
sir." Yin shook his head, a slow, ghastly gesture that made it look
like the Death's Head itself refusing the pleas of the ones condemned to
die. "You old fool, you can't do this!" Lubu shouted. He turned to the
officer of the deck, who was fully outfitted in his
nuclearchemical-biological-warfare gear. "Cancel Red Moon execution on
my order, Commander. Broadcast on emergency frequency that this fleet
is disengaging and departing Filipino waters immediately."
"Sir, I must have the cancellation code, " the officer of the deck
shouted through his mask. The officer of the deck was trained to
respond to orders from the ship's captain, not the Admiral on board;
therefore there was no question that he would obey lawful orders from
Lubu. But procedures still had to be followed, especially in combat
conditions and with the flotilla commander on deck in active command.
Lubu looked at the dark visage of Yin behind his mask. The Fleet
Admiral made no movement, spoke nothing. Lubu said angrily, "On my
authority, Commander. The codes are in a safe in my cabin. You know I
have them. Until I retrieve the codes, I order you to cancel the
execution order immediately." The officer of the deck turned to look at
both Yin and Lubu. Most of the rest of the bridge crew was watching the
exchange as well. Then the officer of the deck said, "I'm sorry, sir,
but the Admiral is still on the bridge and he has command. I cannot
supersede his orders."
"Sixty seconds to Red Moon execution. All decks report ready. . .
fifty seconds. "Cancel the order, Admiral, " Lubu warned him. "Don your
protective gear and stand by, Captain, " Yin said evenly. Lubu's eyes
telegraphed his next move-he lunged forward for the silver key in the
lock of the Fei Lung-9 commandcontrol panel. Removing the key would
disable the direct line to Combat, which would prevent the final
execution order from being given from the bridge. The launch officer
would hold the final launch countdown at twenty seconds if the final
order was not given either by the direct phone or in person. Just as
Lubu touched the key, a shot rang out. Lubu was thrown away from Yin's
chair and onto the floor, a dark red stain spreading across his belly.
"You are a coward and a dishonorable man, Lubu Vin Li, " Yin said
half-aloud, placing the smoking 7.62-millimeter Type 54 automatic pistol
on the instrument console in front of him. "You cannot change my
destiny. You have disgraced yourself trying." Yin then picked up the
red phone, lifted his mask and helmet, and spoke: "Combat, this is
Admiral Yin."
"Combat. Entering Red Moon countdown hold." "Execution order is Dragon
Sword. Dragon Sword." And he dropped the phone once more and lowered
his respirator into position. As he closed the elastic seals on his
gloves and neck of the protective smock, he spoke into the helmet's
interphone system: "Seal the bridge. Order all antennae and receivers
into standby and-" But just then Yin heard the collision-warning horn
sound on the bridge loudspeaker and the loud, angry buzz of the Phalanx
Close-In Weapon System. The radar-guided Gatling gun automatically
tracked inbound targets and opened fire with a murderous hail of
30-millimeter bullets when it computed the object within range-Yin knew
it was a last-resort weapon, and that its chances of stopping an
incoming missile were slim. Yin heard another warning horn blare-it was
the T minus ten-second Fei Lung-9 launch-warning horn-just as a huge
explosion erupted outside the port observation windows. The incoming
Harpoon missile had been hit by the Phalanx cannon and detonated as it
began its terminal pop-up maneuver, creating a huge overpressure in
Yin's ears seconds before the big, thick observation windows bowed
inwards, then outwards, and exploded like a balloon. The overpressure
seemed to suck the air out of Yin's lungs, and the very air he was
breathing seemed as if it were on fire. . ABOARD BEAR ZERO-ONE Tamalko
saw the patrol boat at about three miles' distance, and opened fire just
inside one-half mile. The Chinese warship opened fire immediately with
what appeared to be a solid wall of tracers, and for a moment he thought
he would have to break off his run and try a different attack axis; but
just then, a half-second later, the firing abruptly stopped. Tamalko
walked his 20-millimeter shells up to the ship's stern, using short
bursts from the four-thousand-rounds-per-minute M61A1 cannon, then,
banking hard left and controlling his fighter's swaying action with
rudder pressure, managed to stitch a line of bullets right down the
centerline. He was rewarded with a few secondary explosions, and it
even appeared that the ship was listing to one side, although he doubted
seriously that single gun pass had anything to do with it. "Radar
contact on another vessel, now one o'clock, three miles, " Pilas called
out. "Locked on, steering is good."
"Roger, " Tamalko replied. Just as he rolled out on his new heading
toward the second Chinese vessel, he saw a huge cloud of fire burst
directly abeam the radar cursor in his HUD. The ship was clearly
illuminated for a second or two, and Tamalko could not believe the size
of the ship-it was as big as an aircraft carrier, he thought, and as
tall as a skyscraper. It was easily the biggest ship he had ever seen
so close to Palawan. Only a search radar still emanating from this
&nbs
p; one-it seemed unaware of his presence. Well, perhaps not. Just as
Tamalko considered the lack of threat signals from the big vessel, he
saw a streak of fire arch skyward from the rear of the Chinese ship. It
trailed a line of fiery exhaust that could be seen for dozens of miles,
and it flew fairly slowly, picking up speed only several seconds after
launch. The big missile continued south and made no attempt to turn east
toward him. That was odd, Tamalko thought. "Coming within two miles, "
Pilas said. "Two miles... now. Just then, the heads-up display
circular firing cue began its clockwise sweep, like a racing timer-when
the sweep circle passed the three o'clock position on the HUD, he could
open fire. Tamalko checked his switches visually instead of by feel,
double-checked his gun status-still not jammed after 340 rounds fired
off' which was above-average for the M61A1 cannon-and by the time he
faced forward to line up on target, he was within a mile and a half.
Pipper in the center of the radar diamond, a good ARM 260 indication-and
Tamalko let loose, maintaining short trigger pulls, feeling the
reassuring buzz of the gun when it fired, keeping the pipper lined up on
the radar target diamond. There was no return fire from the big Chinese
ship. The cannon jammed with thirty rounds remaining, but every one of
the others had been placed neatly into the ship's midsection. Tamalko
clicked the gun to "Safe" and banked up on his left wing, keeping a low,
thin profile to the ship as he passed overhead. He caught glimpses of
flickering lights on deck as he screamed over the ship at Mach one, but
whether they were secondary explosions or reflections of light, he
couldn't tell. Tamalko banked left, heading south, keeping his engines
out of afterburner to avoid attracting any heat-seeking missiles or
optically guided guns. The threat radars from the big destroyer were
gone. Maybe he did hit something vital! And then it happened. For a
millisecond Tamalko's eyes registered the brightest flash of light he'd
