The Violent Sea

by Russell Moran

  “Buster has done a masterful job of gathering intelligence. He’s found undeniable evidence that Iran has been manufacturing nuclear bombs, and also solid proof that the ship that nuked itself was an Iranian vessel. Buster begged me not to disclose the details of his intelligence, and I agreed.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President. My ulcer thanks you as well,” Buster said.

  “You and Meg don’t have the need to know Buster’s secret allies in both Iran and North Korea. But the proof has been disclosed at a high level secret meeting of the UN Security Council. I’ve been burning up the diplomatic wires recently and I’ve managed to get some needed players on our side, including Russia, and, you may not believe this, even China. We’re not the only ones afraid of the crazy mullahs and their boy toy friend in North Korea. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to declare war on Iran and North Korea, joined by the other powers I just mentioned. This will not be an executive action, but a full-blown declaration of war. I already have enough votes in the Senate to make it fly through.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. President,” Meg said, “but the Senate is evenly split. Did you say you have enough votes?”

  I could see Meg blushing. She sometimes embarrasses herself by butting in at meetings. That’s nonsense, as I’d explain to her later. She has more brains than anybody in the room, and she had every right to ask a question. It was obvious that the President didn’t mind at all. Like anyone who’s ever met her, President Blake is a fan of Meg Fenton.

  “Votes, Meg? I’ve got 79 and counting. When I laid out the cards for the senators they all realized that it’s showtime, no matter what side of the aisle they’re on. So, what does this have to do with Harry and Meg Fenton? Frankly, Harry, you’re the best fighting admiral we have in the Navy, possibly one of the greatest we’ve ever had. We’ve all heard about your recent experiences with Halsey and Spruance in your time journey to World War II. I think those guys have rubbed off on you, and I’m sure they appreciated your clean sweep at Leyte Gulf. I’m happy to announce that I’m appointing Harry Fenton as Chief of Naval Operations. I also appoint you as a full four-star admiral. I know I’m keeping your tailor busy. Bob Muncton, the current CNO, is beyond retirement age, and the Navy Secretary has already discussed with him his stepping down, with Muncton’s full agreement. I’m happy that you’ve made Commander Meg your chief of staff, Harry. I’ve mentioned to you before that you and Meg remind me of the First Lady and me. A couple of patriots in love with each other and with their country.”

  He handed me a box. Inside were my new epaulets, my stripes, and my four-star collar pins. Holy shit. I looked at Meg. She had a tear running down her face. CNO, Chief of Naval Operations. Me? I couldn’t fucking believe it.

  “We’re not looking for a shooting war, but a short conflict driven by ultimatums. Your interdiction of the nuclear weapons from Iran to North Korea is about to pay off in spades. Those devices that your brave SEALs attached to the bombs are more than just tracking instruments. Buster may have a heart attack when I tell you this, but our scientists have come up with a way to render those bombs inert, using the devices that your SEALs attached. As a matter of cold fact, they have already been rendered inert, but the North Koreans don’t know it yet. Our insiders in Iran—don’t worry Buster, I won’t mention names—have identified all the nuclear bombs that Iran has manufactured to date, and we know their locations. There are only 20 of them, and we know where they are. A major clandestine operation is under way to seize those 20 bombs.”

  Buster was wiping sweat off his forehead.

  “Bottom line is that Iran and North Korea are no longer nuclear powers in any sense. With the United States, Russia, China, and South Korea allied against them, Iran and North Korea don’t have a whisper of a chance in a conventional war. South Korea faces the biggest problem of all. The distance from Pyongyang to Seoul is only 105 miles, easy striking distance for anything North Korea wants to throw. But, at the first hint of a North Korean strike against South Korea, the United States will begin a massive, and I do mean massive, aerial bombardment on Pyongyang, the largest since World War II. China has agreed to look the other way. If Kim Jong-un forces us to, we will literally wipe him off the map. Harry, your focus will be North Korea. As soon as you take your new command, be prepared to rain hell on that little fat boy and his robot followers. An important benefit of all this will be that the people of North Korea will stop suffering from malnutrition while that maniac dictator plays with his ICBMs. We’re going to drive hard for reunification of the Koreas, a Korea free of a mad man in charge.

  “So that’s what I’ve got on my mind. Any questions?”

  Typical of Matt Blake, he covered the entire waterfront in a few minutes.

  “People used to say this about President Truman, and I’m now saying it to you. Give’em hell, Harry.”

  Chapter 48

  Buster told us he had to go to Langley to meet with CIA Director Carlini.

  “My Gulfstream awaits you for your trip back to Pearl Harbor. As the President just said, ‘Give ‘em hell, Harry.’”

  My new position as CNO means that my office is in the Pentagon. Meg and I were headed toward Pearl to tie up the loose ends of my job as Commander of Carrier Strike Group 14.

  As we buckled our seats, my phone rang. No caller ID, so I assumed it came from a secure location.

  “Harry, Bob Muncton here. I couldn’t think of a better guy to relieve me. You and Meg are going to kick ass, and from what I’ve been hearing, there’s a lot of ass to kick. Congratulations, my friend. Well done. When you get back from Pearl, please stop by my, or rather your, office as soon as you land. We’ve prepared a little welcome for you. See you soon.”

  Meg leaned over and kissed me.

  “Chief of Naval friggin Operations! Gimme another kiss. I want to call my parents.”

  “Hi mom. Just thought you’d like to know that Harry is now a four-star admiral and Chief of Naval Operations.”

  I could hear Holly Johnson screaming on the other end. Meg gets her shy, retiring personality from Holly.

  Chapter 49

  My job as CNO isn’t the hands-on military role that I’m used to. Officially, I’m a military adviser and deputy to the Secretary of the Navy. In my separate capacity as a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, I’m a military adviser to the National Security Council, the Homeland Security Council, the Secretary of Defense, and the President of the United States. It’s definitely an administrative position, not the kind of assignment that I’m too crazy about, but, like everybody in the Navy, I follow orders. Despite the title, the duties of CNO do not include operational command over naval forces. I do have authority over personnel assignments and oversight over resources and personnel allocated to the combat commands. I also exercise supervision over naval components as the designee of the Secretary of the Navy. When I talk, Navy brass is supposed to listen. We’ll see.

  ***

  In just two days, Meg and I tied up our affairs, both personal and official, at Pearl Harbor. Meg could make a pillow fight look organized.

  Our official home carries the quaint title, Quarters A, in the Washington Navy Yard, also known as the Tingey House. Meg observed that the name sounded like “dingy.” Always the wiseass. The place was named after its original occupant in 1804, Commodore Thomas Tingey. He must have had a rough time as a kid. Tommy Tingey? The place does have a quaint old appearance in keeping with its age. The first floor contains a dining room, library, kitchen, and two parlors; the second floor contains four bedrooms, and the attic contains two rooms. There is a porte-cochere and enclosed porch on the south and east sides of the house. We loved the porte-cochere, which is a covered entrance, because Washington sees its share of rain and, unlike Pearl Harbor, snow.

  After the moving van left, we relaxed with a cocktail. The move didn’t take long because, like most career Navy people, we don’t carry a lot of stuff with us. You never know when you’re about to get your new orders. The next day we would meet
the Secretary of Defense and the Secretary of the Navy at the Pentagon, just down the hall from my new office.

  ***

  Mike Jamison, Secretary of Defense, welcomed us into his large office. Hugo Johnston, Secretary of the Navy, was already there. We sat around the long conference table as Jamison’s aide brought in a tray of coffee and some sweets.

  “You’re more than the right guy for this job, Harry, you’re the perfect guy,” Jamison said. We’re all aware of what you did during your time travel to World War II. I can’t believe I’m talking about time travel, but as we all know, it’s a real phenomenon, if a strange one. What you pulled off at Leyte Gulf, not to mention your recent handling of that Iranian ship with the nuke, has gotten the government thinking, from the President right on down. I know that you’re a fighting admiral, probably the best our country has ever produced. But you show more than courage, you show a hell of a lot of strategic thinking—amazing strategic thinking. What you showed at Leyte Gulf was a strategy to stop or quickly end a war, not just by diplomacy, but by giving the enemy no choice, no options. That, Harry, is the most powerful diplomacy that exists, and that’s why we want you on this job. SecNav Hugo here is a great organizer, and we’ve already picked your successor as commander of Carrier Strike Group 14, Admiral Spencer Tompkins. He’s ready to take over immediately, which means that you can take over immediately as Chief of Naval Operations. My aide will fill you in on the details, but I don’t doubt that Commander Meg has figured it out already.

  “Iran is our first order of business. As Defense Secretary, my job is to come up with plans and to make sure they’re executed. So, I’ve decided to borrow a page from Harry Fenton’s way of doing things. By that I mean, I want to drill into the enemy’s mind the thought that he’s in a corner, and the only way out is to back down. We know that Iran is producing more nuclear weapons each month, according to our spies, far more than we ever thought possible. Your strike group, Harry, put us a few moves ahead by interdicting Iranian ships. When the SEALs inserted the disarming devices into the weapons, we thought we had a resolution. It didn’t happen. Our inside people tell us that the mullahs have figured out what we did and have planned clandestine warhead moving. So now we’re faced with a nuclear power that grows more powerful with each weapon it produces. Carrier Strike Group 14 can’t keep up with the exports between Iran and North Korea. So, we’ve got a problem, the biggest problem our country has faced in decades. Harry, your thoughts?”

  “A total naval and air blockade,” I said. “But that will only work if we have the cooperation of our allies. If all our allies are on board, it can happen. As crazy as they are, I don’t see the Iranian leaders willing to lose their country. We’ll give them no way out but to negotiate—and abandon their nuclear program.”

  Jamison looked at Hugo Johnston. They both smiled and looked at me.

  “Sounds like Leyte Gulf, Admiral Harry,” Jamison said.

  Chapter 50

  President Blake, besides being a gutsy leader, is a gifted diplomat. Secretary Jamison told him about my idea of a blockade and he realized it made sense, but only with the full cooperation of our allies. No way would he want the United States to go it alone with a risky operation like a blockade.

  He burned the telephone wires talking to every head of state who was our friend, and a couple whose friendship we weren’t sure of, like Russia and China. Russia had long considered Iran one of its house pets, but the Russians didn’t want to see a nuclear Iran any more than the rest of the world. The Chinese leadership felt that way too, and agreed not to raise hell at the UN, although it would not participate in the blockade in any way.

  The strategic objective of the blockade was simple—to turn back any ship or plane leaving Iran, and to prevent any ship or plane from visiting the country. But the tactical operations could get dicey as hell. The President’s orders, which he gave directly to Navy Secretary Johnston, who in turn gave them to me, was to contact any inbound or outbound vessel or plane and threaten to open fire if it did not turn around. By “open fire,” he didn’t mean a shot across the bow. He meant sinking or disabling the ship, or shooting down the plane if it didn’t comply.

  The Civil War blockade of the Confederate States worked because no gigantic cargo planes were available to overfly ships. We didn’t have that advantage in 2018, so planes had to be part of the blockade.

  On the day the blockade was to be announced, President Blake called me personally.

  “Harry, according to statute you will execute the orders as received from me by the Secretary of the Navy, but I want you to know one thing. We authorized this blockade because of you, your ideas, and your past actions. Our objective is to rob Iran of any ideas of not capitulating, just as you read the riot act to Japan at Leyte Gulf.”

  ***

  Meg and I would spend countless hours in the Pentagon War Room, also known as The National Military Command Center (NMCC). At 30,000 square feet, the place was huge. The tall sloped walls were covered by electronic maps and charts. In the center was a round table that could accommodate 26 people. The place reminded me of the movie Dr. Strangelove, but I forced the thought from my mind because that movie was about an accidental nuclear war.

  Images on the electronic charts indicated suspected “bogies,” or ships whose course indicated Iran as a possible destination.

  The aerial blockade was simpler. All our allies agreed not to allow planes to take off and head for Iran. Inevitably some planes would slip through the bureaucracy. But they couldn’t slip through our satellite images. All Iran-bound flights were also tracked on one of the huge aerial maps. When we determined that a flight was headed toward Iran, fighter jets would be scrambled, and the pilot would radio the suspected plane to turn around or be shot down.

  Meg and I spent countless hours staring at the overhead video monitors. General Brad Simone, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, would often stand next to us. Each day, after we caught a few hours of sleep, we noticed that fewer and fewer planes or ships headed toward Iran. Meg, of course, kept a careful note of each plane or ship, and entered the sightings on a spreadsheet. She then made a chart, which visually showed the decrease of inbound flights and sailings.

  After two weeks, not one plane or ship entered or left Iran. Sanctions with teeth—that’s what a blockade is all about. Iran was strangling, and not too slowly.

  I stood next to General Simone when his phone sounded. Only he and the service chiefs, such as me, were allowed to have their phones turned on.

  “It’s the White House,” he mouthed to me. Then, he grabbed a microphone.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Simone said, “I’ve been asked to put a news program on our monitors.”

  The various maps and charts of the world were replaced by a TV anchorman.

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, Wolf Blitzer here for CNN. We have just received word that Ali Khamenei, the Supreme Leader of Iran, has been assassinated. We don’t yet have the details of who did it or how, but it appears to be a major coup d’état, not just an assassination. The position of Supreme Leader is an enormously powerful post and controls all religious, political, judicial, and military affairs of the country. The post was created after the Iranian Revolution in 1979 when Ruhollah Khomeini became Supreme Leader. Ali Khamenei has held the position since Khomeini died in 1989. The Assembly of Experts, the body that elects the Supreme Leader, has announced that it would not fill the post, but instead appointed a Prime Minister, an office that had been abolished in 1989. The man they chose is Hamid Rashadi, Deputy Foreign Minister…”

  I turned to Meg. “Isn’t Rashadi Buster’s friend?”

  “Yes, he’s a good guy and a moderate. Buster says Rashadi considers the United States a

  potential friend.”

  General Simone answered his phone again. He grabbed the microphone, smiling.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve just received word from the White House. ‘Stand down the blockade. Alert al
l units.’”

  The room erupted in cheers and applause. Here we are, I thought, a bunch of warriors, and we’re cheering because we just stepped back from war. I love this country.

  I would soon learn that I had nothing to cheer about.

  Chapter 51

  On our way back to our house—Tingey House—we passed by the Navy Yard Infirmary.

  “I want to check on Jimmy Gallagher, hon. Why don’t you go ahead without me? I’ll just be a few minutes.”

  Captain Jimmy Gallagher, an old friend from Annapolis, was the Deputy Superintendent of the Washington Navy Yard. He was at the infirmary recuperating from an ankle fracture he got while playing tennis. His wife was with him.

  “Wow,” Jimmy said. “None other than the Chief of Naval Operations. Great of you to stop by Harry. You’ve met my wife Julie I think.”

  “Hi Julie. Hey, Jim, How the hell do you fracture an ankle playing tennis?” I said.

  “You know me, Harry. I never let a ball get by me. To change the subject from my ankle, I want to congratulate you on that blockade. I don’t know the details of course, but I know that you had a lot to do with it. Rumor has it that the whole thing was your idea.”

  “Don’t listen to rumors. Hey, feel better, Jimmy. Good to see you, Julie.”

  Our house was a short distance from the infirmary, so I decided to walk rather than call for another car.

  I opened the front door. Damn, I’ve got to fix that squeak, I thought.

  “I’m home, baby.”

  No answer. Well, the house is kind of big and she may be upstairs.