by Dale Brown
“America is no threat to Russia, at least in our own sphere of influence—namely, eastern Europe and central Asia,” Truznyev’s translator said. “Our work is already done. Russia does not need to dominate the South China Sea—in fact, limiting access to the South China Sea is not in our interests. You are not helping your cause with Russia by rattling sabers in the South China Sea, General.”
“We will do much more than rattle sabers, sir,” Zu said.
“Explain immediately, General!” Zu could hear Truznyev’s angry voice in the background, a dramatic difference from the emotionless, mechanical tone of the translator.
“Mr. President, China is today claiming all its historic and legal rights in the South Sea,” Zu said. “I am determined and honor-bound to lead my country in protecting and defending our rights to the inner island chain, and we will do whatever is necessary. I called you to inform you of my intentions and to ask for your support and assistance in this sacred endeavor.”
“I do not give a shit about your intentions or honor, Zu,” Truznyev’s translator said. Truznyev’s very loud voice was clearly discernible in the background, and it was obvious that it was made so. “I will put you on notice right now, you traitorous bastard: if one Russian sailor or airman even gets his hair tousled or has one meal interrupted by Chinese actions, I will drop a hundred megatons of nuclear warheads on your backwater country.”
“That was not my intention in the least, Mr. President,” Zu said. “I seek nothing but Russia’s cooperation in our endeavor. Our efforts are the same exactly, sir: the reduction or elimination of the American naval influence on all the world’s oceans. The United States Navy has a presence in every one of the world’s oceans; I want to limit that influence in regions that are vital to China, which include the South Sea, Straits of Malacca, and the Indian Ocean.”
“General Zu, you are either a crazy megalomaniac or completely deluded,” Truznyev said. “The United States unfortunately has the most powerful navy in the world, even after all their austerity measures. If you think your puny two aircraft carriers can take on the navy of the United States of America, you should be institutionalized.”
“Alone, no one can take on the United States,” Zu said. “But with Russia’s cooperation, we can force the United States to negotiate.”
“Negotiate what?”
“Power sharing in the Pacific,” Zu said. “Unfettered access to all the world’s oceans, free of the interference and constant threat of the United States Navy.”
“Russia already has unfettered access to any ocean in which she chooses to sail, General,” Truznyev said.
“But if the United States decided to take that access away from you, Mr. President, what could you do about it?” Zu asked.
“Russia is not as dependent on the sea as is China,” Truznyev said.
“Perhaps not,” Zu replied, “but it must sicken you, as it does me, to live under the constant threat of American domination.” Truznyev was silent. “Mr. President, this was a courtesy call to inform you that China will act soon, very soon, to put the world on notice that she will defend her sovereign territory against all threats with every weapon in her arsenal. Russia can side with China, as we did on the Gulf of Aden incident, and stand up to the Americans. If you decide not to act, China will still pursue her destiny.”
“Russia is not going to side with you just so you can assert some wild baseless claim on the South China Sea and western Pacific, Zu.”
“Then perhaps there are other areas where our two nations can cooperate, sir,” Zu said. “Russia has vast natural resources virtually untapped in Siberia; China has a large appetite for resources that grows exponentially every year. I believe Chinese investment in several natural gas liquefaction plants, pipelines, cryogenic ships, and port facilities in Siberia would serve both our nations well.” Truznyev was silent again. “Mr. President?”
“Tell me more about what you have in mind about the South China Sea, General,” Truznyev said. “And I want to know about these other weapons it appears you have employed in the area, the one that took down the American aircraft. And I want to know why I am speaking to you instead of to Zhou, and why you are deploying thousands of troops all throughout your country.”
“I think it is time to tell you everything, Mr. President,” Zu said, “and I think you will be pleased at the prospects for both of us.”
THE SOUTH CHINA SEA, SIXTY MILES SOUTH OF KAOHSIUNG, REPUBLIC OF CHINA
TWO DAYS LATER
“Incredible weather this morning for this operational tasking, sir,” Hai Jun Da Xiao (Lower Admiral) Weng Li-Yeh said, smiling proudly as he surveyed activity on his ship down below. Even though this was their first mission after completing trials and a shakedown cruise, his sailors appeared to be in excellent spirits and worked with fluid precision.
“It is indeed most excellent, Admiral,” Weng’s superior officer, Hai Jun Shao Jiang (Rear Admiral) Hu Tan-sun, replied. “You may commence launching when ready.”
“Shì, haijun shàng jiàng,” Weng replied. He picked up a telephone. “Operations, this is Flag. You may commence air operations as briefed, Captain.”
Slowly, activity down below began to increase in tempo. Hu and Weng were watching the activity from the flag bridge of the aircraft carrier Zheng He, the People’s Republic of China’s second aircraft carrier, just recently made combat-ready. Named after a world-traveling Chinese fleet admiral from the fifteenth century, the Zheng He was formerly the Brazilian Navy’s Sao Paulo, which in turn had formerly been the French Navy’s Clemenceau-class carrier Foch. As the Sao Paulo, the fifty-five-year-old carrier had been extensively upgraded and modernized, so even though it was smaller than the Zhenyuan, it embarked just as many aircraft, a mix of Chinese and Russian multirole fighters and helicopters. Brazil was in the process of beginning an extensive upgrade of its navy, including an indigenously built carrier, and the two carriers being built by China were experiencing some construction delays, so China gladly purchased the surplus vessel. Unlike the Zhenyuan, the Zheng He had an angled deck, which allowed for simultaneous takeoffs and landings, and it used steam catapults instead of the ski-jump ramp to launch aircraft, which allowed launching more heavily armed aircraft.
After the Harbin Z-5 rescue helicopters and Harbin Z-9 antisubmarine warfare helicopters were launched, the crew of the Zheng He prepared to launch one of the largest carrier-launched strike aircraft in the world from its deck: the JH-37 Fei Bào, or Flying Leopard. The Leopard was a carrier-based version of the Russian-built Sukhoi-34 fighter-bomber, modified with folding wings and vertical stabilizer, stronger undercarriage to withstand carrier landings, and more powerful Xian WS9 turbofans. It used canards—small moving wings on either side of the nose—for extra maneuverability in dogfights, but its primary purpose was long-range strikes—it could carry almost twenty thousand pounds of a wide variety of weapons, from mines to cruise missiles. The JH-37 was also able to perform long-range electronic submarine searches, radar patrols, electronic warfare, and reconnaissance, using underwing sensor and emitter pods. On this sortie, the JH-37 was carrying six APR-3E rocket-powered torpedoes, three under each wing.
Watching a JH-37 launch was always an exciting event, and many of the off-duty crew came up on deck to watch the magnificent beast taxi up to the catapult shuttle and unfold its long wings and tall tail. There were only six JH-37s in the Zheng He’s complement simply because the bombers were so massive that there was no room for more. The nearly ninety-thousand-pound JH-37 took the number three catapult, its left wing hanging far over the port side—no aircraft could use any of the other catapults at the same time as the Leopard because of its enormous size, and landings had to be carefully planned because no aircraft could park on the fantail when the JH-37 came in for landing. Because of its long range and size and because getting it back on board the carrier took so much preparation, the JH-37 was often sent off to land bases until the decks could be made ready. In accordance with the car
rier operations restrictions initiated by China, the number one and two waist catapults had aircraft parked on them.
After hooking up to the catapult shuttle and holdback bar, the big Xian turbofans were run up to full military power, the exhaust so powerful that it shook the heavy steel blast deflector behind it. When the catapult was fired and the breakaway holdback bar released, it always appeared as if it was impossible for the big bomber to actually accelerate quickly enough to make it down the three hundred feet of deck and become airborne before tumbling over the edge and splashing into the ocean. But, sure enough, the big bomber rumbled into the sky, shaking the deck with the blast of its big engines, and it was quickly lost from view. In its antisubmarine role, it could patrol as far as three hundred miles from the carrier and stay aloft for six hours.
After the JH-37 was away, the air defense fighters were next. Like the Zhenyuan, China’s first aircraft carrier, the Zheng He had a mix of fighters in its arsenal: two squadrons, each with fifteen JN-15 multirole fighters, China’s first domestically produced carrier-based fighter, a reverse-engineered copy of the Russian Su-33 carrier fighter; and one squadron of ten JN-20 advanced air superiority fighters. The JN-20s were definitely the “show” planes of the fleet and were rarely flown except for qualifications, proficiency, or when foreign patrol planes were in the area, so the JN-15s were used for routine patrols.
Along on this sortie but not part of the Zheng He’s complement was another aircraft orbiting around the carrier battle group at five thousand feet above the South China Sea: a Shaanxi Y-8 medium four-engine land-based turboprop transport plane, a Chinese-made copy of the Russian Antonov-12 transport, that had launched a few hours earlier. The Y-8 was configured as both an airborne early-warning aircraft and an antisubmarine warfare plane, with a fixed “Balance Beam” air search radar mounted atop the fuselage, a surface search radar on the chin, and a magnetic anomaly detector, or MAD, mounted on a long boom on the tail. The MAD sensed the change in the earth’s magnetic field when a submarine moved through it, alerting an operator to its presence. Once alerted, the Y-8 would start a search pattern, dropping sonobuoys to help track the submarine, and once located, it would drop depth charges to try to destroy the sub or vector in carrier-based antisubmarine helicopters to attack. The Y-8 was China’s first long-range surveillance and antisubmarine warfare aircraft, purpose-made for patrolling China’s long coastline.
For this special patrol, the Y-8 was armed with a special weapon, one that was designed to cement China’s claim on the inner island ring once and for all.
Normally the Y-8 would not patrol more than one or two hundred miles from Chinese mainland ports and coastal military bases, but they had special intelligence of a target that had to be located, and they were determined to do so.
Less than two hours later: “Bridge, Combat, the Y-8 has made MAD contact and is beginning its orbit, range one-thirty kilometers, bearing three-zero-zero,” the combat systems officer radioed to Admiral Weng.
The range was too great for their helicopters, Weng knew, and it would take them a couple hours to close the distance. “Have the Y-8 maintain MAD contact, but make sure it does not drop sonobuoys,” he ordered. “I do not want our friends to be alerted yet. Helm, steer three-zero-zero, best possible speed. Operations, ready a flight of Z-9s to prosecute the target when we are in range. Make sure the crew of the JH-37 is advised and tell them to be ready.”
The phone from the flag bridge beeped, and Weng picked it up immediately. “Report,” Admiral Hu ordered.
“Right where our intelligence said it would be, sir,” Weng replied. “Our intelligence agents reported that the Taiwanese intelligence-gathering submarine Fùchóu zhe was going to put to sea yesterday from its base in Kaohsiung and attempt a simulated missile and torpedo attack on the Zheng He battle group. I have ordered the Y-8 to maintain contact. The JN-15 fighters are on normal air patrols. I have ordered another flight of antisubmarine helicopters to be ready when we receive the order. The JH-37 is standing by and ready. We should be in position for helicopter and escort ASW operations in about two hours.”
“Very well, Admiral.”
“Sir, on our present course and speed, we will intercept the Fùchóu zhe in Taiwanese waters,” Weng said. “Am I approved to continue, sir?”
“There is no such thing as ‘Taiwanese waters,’ Admiral Weng,” Hu said, the derision thick in his voice. “Yes, you will continue. The submarine is in violation of operational restrictions on submerged submarines. An example must be made.”
REPUBLIC OF CHINA SUBMARINE FÙCHÓU ZHE (AVENGER), SOUTH CHINA SEA
A SHORT TIME LATER
“We have received the latest position information on the Zheng He battle group, Captain,” the operations officer aboard the Taiwanese Type 800 submarine Avenger reported. He plotted the position on the chart in the con. “About thirty kilometers to the south.”
Captain Yao nodded. “We will be in range of their patrol helicopters soon,” he said. “Get a last GPS update for the inertial navigation system, then we will go to patrol depth and commence ultraquiet operations.”
“Yes, sir.” The submarine Avenger was at periscope depth now, getting radio messages and updating its position by a GPS receiver mounted on the periscope mast, but in seconds it received a final GPS update and the mast was lowered to avoid detection. The Avenger then commenced a steep dive to four hundred feet and began ultraquiet operations. The Avenger was a former Israeli Dolphin-class diesel-electric attack submarine, built in Germany, and was already one of the quietest submarines in the world, but on ultraquiet all possible means for extraneous noise was eliminated; the crew was even directed to walk carefully, not slam hatches or drop metal objects, and speak in whispers even on the intercom. Submerged speed was cut in half, which made the days that much longer, but hunting ships was a patient man’s game anyway.
Avenger was fitted with ten torpedo tubes, six of which were larger twenty-five-inch tubes capable of firing Tomahawk cruise missiles. Taiwan was not currently allowed to buy any sub-launched cruise missiles from the United States, so the larger torpedo tubes were fitted with liners that allowed them to fire twenty-one-inch diameter torpedoes; it carried a total of sixteen twenty-one-inch wire-guided torpedoes. Avenger was also armed with a new weapon system: IDAS, or Integrated Defense and Attack System, which was a torpedo-launched laser- or infrared-guided missile capable of attacking ships, land targets, and even antisubmarine helicopters at ranges out to thirty kilometers—IDAS was the first missile in the world to attack aircraft while the launch platform was submerged. Two of Avenger’s torpedo tubes, one forward and one aft, each carried a magazine of four IDAS missiles.
About an hour later the sonar operator whispered on intercom: “Captain, sonar contact, bearing two-five-zero, aircraft, sounds like a patrol helicopter.” The passive sonar could pick up any sounds traveling through the water, and computers analyzed the sounds and took an educated guess at what it might be.
“Slow to five knots, turn left heading one-six-zero,” Yao ordered. A patrol helicopter’s dipping sonar was probably one of the submarine’s most dreaded adversaries other than another submarine, and the only way to avoid being detected by its active sonar signal was to get as far away from it as quickly as possible while not being detected. It became a cat-and-mouse game as the helicopter transmitted its signal then moved, and the submarine had to respond with its own move.
“Let us try a simulated IDAS attack on this helicopter,” Captain Yao said. “Periscope depth, half standard rate. Stand by on IDAS, simulated attack on airborne target. Flood tube three.” The Avenger rose ever so slowly to a depth of sixty feet. “Bearing to helicopter?”
“Bearing to helicopter three-five-two.”
Yao turned the periscope until the lens was pointing toward three-five-two degrees, then slowly raised it above the surface. He immediately saw the helicopter, moving away from them. He locked onto the helicopter and hit the laser rangefinder. “Mark.”
“Range three thousand two hundred meters.”
“Simulate fire two IDAS.”
“Simulate fire IDAS . . . one away . . . two away.” Had they actually launched the wire-guided missiles, they would take steering cues from the periscope and laser marker to home in on its target.
“Good job,” Yao said. “Down periscope. Steady up on two-two-zero, simulate reloading tube three with IDAS. How far until the first escort?”
“Approximately ten kilometers, sir.”
Well within the active sonar range of a medium- or large-size escort vessel, Yao knew, but outside their own passive sonar detection range. Stealth was very important now. They made temperature measurements as they ascended and descended, which improved the computer models for determining thermoclines—marked bands of different temperatures through the water that might deflect sound or sonar—so they could pick the proper depth to head toward the target, but it was all educated guesswork. It was akin to a bowhunter stepping quietly through a forest toward where he thought the deer would be, using everything possible—wind direction, foliage, silence—to close in undetected. In the end, it usually came down to patience and luck.
Just then: “Single sonar ping, sir, bearing two-four-zero.”
The Communists had made a mistake—he used his active sonar to try to get a fix on them, which instead gave away his own location. “Getting a little anxious, are we?” Yao said under his breath. “Now, it would really help if you . . .”
“Second single ping!” the sonar operator reported, his voice still muted but noticeably excited. “Bearing two-four-seven, heading one-zero-zero, approximate range eight kilometers!”
