“Captain, twenty-two miles to the twenty fathom curve. At five knots, we will be at the drop off point at zero-four thirty. That leaves the SEALs an hour to paddle the last thousand yards before first light at zero-five-thirty-two,” LCDR Jacobs reported.
“Captain, flashing infra-red light from the SEAL squad leader,” Petty Officer Buell said. He was watching through number one scope. “He reports snag and tow satisfactory. Speed is good. His people regret missing pizza night.”
Hunter smiled and said, “Send back, ‘ ETA drop off zero-four-thirty. No new intelligence on targets. Will advise if received. Do you want pepperoni and sausage? We deliver’.”
Petty Officer Buell grinned as he lifted the infrared equipped Aldis lantern to the periscope eyepiece and flashed the signal.
On the surface, Boats, using IR goggles, could just make out the narrow beam of red light emanating from the scope head window.
“Message understood. Order is for two large pepperoni and mushrooms, one large anchovy with extra cheese,” he flashed with his IR light, carefully aimed at the scope head window.
With a mischievous glint in his eye, Hunter said, “XO, time to practice that special tactic for passing ‘small time-critical logistic components and sensitive intelligence’ to the SEAL Team that we discussed.”
“Yes, sir,” Fagan replied and hurried off to supervise the operation.
At some time in the misty past, the traditional Saturday midrats on all US submarines at sea had evolved into pizza night. Each crew claimed their cook made the best pizzas in the Navy. A submariner didn’t miss pizza night unless there was a very serious reason.
A cheer erupted from the gathered crew as the first large pie emerged from the galley to the awaiting throng on the mess decks. That is, until the XO requisitioned it and had the slices, along with an infrared Chem-lite, placed in zip-lock plastic bags. The crew watched with increasing curiosity as the bags were loaded in the signal ejectors.
Fagan picked up the MJ phone handset, spun the growler handle and reported to Hunter, “Captain, signal ejectors loaded. Looks like one whole pizza per load. You can tell the SEALs that this is one of the cook’s special pepperoni and sausage pizzas.”
Hunter picked up his MJ handset and said, “Thanks XO. Quartermaster, signal the SEALs that first delivery is on its way.”
Turning to the Chief of the Watch, he ordered the forward signal ejector fired.
The signal ejector cylinder cycled and the baggies containing the pizza slices floated to the surface, emerging alongside the waiting SEALs. A brief scurry and scuffle was visible as the SEALs vied to retrieve their piece of this unconventionally delivered pizza.
A flashing light signal came from the Boats, “Compliments to the chef, but you screwed up the order. Should have been mushroom.”
“Captain sends his apologies. No charge for the order,” Buell flashed back.
21 Jun 2000, 0020LT (20 Jun, 1720Z)
The strange convoy traveled on through the night. Barely a ripple marked their passage toward the dark, ominous island.
The ESM sensors on the sub still detected the powerful low frequency surface search radar and the chirp of the giga-hertz band search-while-track air search radar. Neither was capable of detecting them and had not changed in any way from what they had been monitoring for days. There was no sign that their arrival was discovered.
“XO, send a message to the Intel weenies at SUBPAC and give them the latest parameters on the radars. Also tell them that we are still not receiving any comms intercepts. Nothing unusual at all. Looks like all is quiet for our reception. Ask them where the hell the latest satellite imagery is and the latest assessment of mission locations. Don’t those idiots realize that we have the SEALs in the water already? They will be on the beach in a couple of hours.”
The lack of intelligence support was grating on Hunter’s nerves. They were supposed to have the highest priority possible for this information. It should be flooding in, but nary a trickle came out of radio. Hunter was anxious to get the information that his team needed to successfully complete this mission.
“Yes, sir. We’ll have that out on SSIXS in a minute. Nice to have Spec-Op priority so we have our own channel and direct routing from the Comms Center over to SUBPAC’s basement. The weenies should have the message within minutes.”
Both were well aware of the glut of radio traffic, a large percentage of it routine administration and reports, clogging the limited capacity of the submarine communications system. To allow very high priority missions, SPECial OPerations, to bypass the traffic snarl, they were allocated their own channel. This made immediate delivery from the SUBPAC comm center, located adjacent to the intel center but through a different set of double cypher-locked doors, possible. The use of the code-word priority on the message would jar the on-watch communications officer into action to deliver it as soon as it came off the secure high-speed printer.
20 Jun 2000, 0700LT (1800Z)
Unbeknownst to the submariners on SAN FRANCISCO, Rear Admiral O’Flanagan was standing in the emergency command center and closely observing the operation from there. Within seconds of the message arriving, it was in the admiral’s hand.
“Sounds like Jonathan is getting a little antsy. Can’t say that I blame him,” he said to his aide, Lieutenant Pyler. “Get Admiral Pequot at NSA on the STU for me.”
The young Lieutenant picked up the red encrypted phone and dialed a series of numbers. After listening to the high pitched whine of the two encryption devices syncing up, he spoke briefly into the handset and then handed it to COMSUBPAC.
“Admiral, I have Admiral Pequot on the line. He is at NSA’s Command Center,” LT Pyler reported. “He has the JCS Command Center on line as well. He says that all the Joint Chiefs will be listening in.”
“Damn, just what I wanted! An audience of thousands when I have to yell at a senior admiral,” COMSUBPAC muttered under his breath as he picked up the bright red phone.
LT Pyler and the rest of the staff backed discreetly away from the admiral’s centrally located command chair.
“Jack, this is Mike O’Flanagan out in Pearl. Just received the latest update from SAN FRANCISCO. They have the SEALs in the water and are approaching the island. No sign of any alertment yet. The CO reports that there are no comms intercepts and only routine surface and air search radars. He needs the latest KH-11 imagery and assessments for the teams. It’s zero-three-fifteen out there now and he expects to release the SEALs at zero-four-thirty. He needs that imagery right now.”
“Mike, wish I could help,” replied the country’s top military spook. “Tell your skipper the cloud cover he sees over the island has been there for three days. It’s been playing havoc with the visual imagery. As you already know, the oblique angles and definition that we need for this makes even the millimeter wave radar imagery unusable. Visual spectrum photography is the only thing that will get us the info that we need. He is going to have to go with what he has or abort the mission.”
“Mike, Jack, this is General Schwartz,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs interjected. “What is the estimate if we don’t get the imagery? Do you recommend that we still go or abort?”
Mike O’Flanagan replied, “General, I want to leave that decision to the on-scene commander. I think that we have learned enough times that trying to micro-manage an operation from Pearl or the Pentagon ends up FUBAR. I know the Skipper out there and he is one tenacious son of a bitch. If this mission can be done, he will get it done. On the other hand, he is no fool. If the mission can’t be done or the risks are too high, he is not afraid to say so and high-tail it out of there.”
Jack Pequot chimed in, “I have to agree with Mike. Leave it up to the on-scene commander. NRO will continue to try to get the imagery and pass it to SAN FRANCISCO. On the last KH-11 pass, SIGINT concurred exactly with what the Skipper reported. A low frequency surface search radar and a SHF frequency air search, both located on the mountaintop. No PHOTINT, of cours
e. The next pass is at zero-five-seventeen. Maybe we’ll get lucky then. I know that the SEALs won’t have a picture, but, at least we can tell them what to expect.”
“Thanks Mike, Jack,” growled the General. “We will play it your way. Just make damn sure that this works and that we get out with no egg on our face. Now there are some new developments that we have to discuss.”
He proceeded to explain that things were happening much faster than they had previously expected. CIA resources were talking of delivery with in the next two days. Once the pathogen was off Nusa Funata, it would be almost impossible to contain.
“Mike,” Schwartz concluded, “you had better tell your boy on-scene that he has a job to do by himself. Otherwise we’ll have to vaporize that place, hostages and all.”
21 Jun 2000, 0235LT (20 Jun, 1935Z)
The periscope stand 21MC squawked. Hunter instinctively reached out and grabbed it without taking his eye from the periscope.
It was Chief Tyler. “Skipper, high priority off-line eyes only traffic coming in from SUBPAC. Request you come to radio."
Hunter answered, “Be there in a second, Chief. Set up the off-line crypto. XO, take charge in control. Call me in radio if anything happens. Hope this is the intel update.”
Hunter stepped out of the control room and through the aft door, ducking around the ESGN gyros hanging from the overhead before stepping through the cypher-locked door into the combined radio/ESM space.
In the forward half of the cramped, narrow space the Electronics Technicians were bent over a series of small screens, watching and listening intently for any sign that SAN FRANCISCO was at risk of detection.
The after half of the space was dedicated to radio communications. The bulkheads of the whole space were covered with a multitude of black boxes connected by a myriad of multi-colored wires and cables. Many of the “black boxes” were actually painted red, indicating that the signal being passed through them was encrypted.
Every inch of available space was used. Even the narrow passageway, barely the width of a man’s shoulders, was filled with bench lockers that doubled as both storage for immediately needed parts and manuals as well as seats for the watch-standers.
Hunter stepped into the crowded space and took a seat in front of a small, strangely shaped typewriter like device on a retractable shelf, now fully extended. After entering his special memorized password, he turned to Chief Tyler and said, “Alright Chief, pass the “Eyes Only” message over here.”
The radioman chief pressed a few buttons and the garble of the encrypted message was passed electronically to the little box. Almost immediately a clear text message began to appear from the high-speed printer at the Commander’s feet.
TOP SECRET, GOLDEN DAWN, Special Handling required
EYES-ONLY: CO USS SAN FRANCISCO
From: COMSUBPAC
To: CO, USS SAN FRANCISCO
Subj: Intel Estimate and Mission Tasking
BT
1. Intel Estimate:
1.1. No further photo imagery available beyond what you hold due to heavy cloud cover over objective. SIGINT receipt and analysis for period 0017LT to 0321LT concurs with your estimate.
1.2. Reliable national assets provide following:
1.2.1. Estimate that production completion and delivery within next two days.
1.2.2. Hostages still held under heavy guard at unknown location on island.
1.2.3. Estimate battalion strength resistance with heavy weapons and some armor.
1.2.4. Possible anti-ship and anti-aircraft missile launchers sited at lat: 06:35.151S long: 116:15.145E
1.2.5. No sign of alertment but security forces on high state of readiness. Anticipate that this is due to pending delivery.
2. Revised Mission Tasking:
2.1. Stopping delivery and destruction of product is of highest national priority. Take what ever actions CO SAN FRANCISCO deems necessary. Use of all weapons available is authorized.
2.2. Hostage rescue to be attempted only after tasking in 2.1 successful.
2.3. Penetration into sovereign waters authorized for execution of this mission.
2.3.1. While inside sovereign waters remain undetected.
2.3.2. If detected, remain unidentified as US submarine.
2.4. CO, USS SAN FRANCISCO, as on-scene commander, authorized to abort mission if determined to be not accomplishable or of too high a risk.
3. Open and review Special Sealed Appendix to OPORD. Will advise if implemented.
4. Good Luck
5. COMSUBPAC sends
BT
20
21 Jun 2000, 0255LT (20 Jun, 1955Z)
“Well, that lays it out. Don’t know what we are going into." Fagan laid the message board on the table.
Hunter and Fagan were seated in Hunter's stateroom.
"No sign that they know we are coming, yet they are in a high state of readiness. Are we walking into a trap here? And what about this “hostage rescue only after we destroy the product.” How are we going to tell their folks that we let them die but we destroyed the virus? Most of them are just kids and they are all out here to help make life better for the locals,” Fagan demanded
“XO, life isn’t fair." Hunter answered. "You and I both know that if we don’t take out the virus, in the best case these people use it to blackmail the world. In the worst case millions will die a very ugly, painful death. Not a whole lot of options in this one. We have to take it out."
The emphasis was on "have to."
Hunter shook his head ruefully. "Unfortunately, the hostages have to be second priority. We will do everything that we can to get them out, but if the choice comes up, they lose. We need to make sure that we don’t have to make the choice.”
Hunter watched Fagan closely. This was where the rubber met the road. If there was any time in this mission where he needed Fagan to be clearheaded and calm, it was now. Was the stress building? Would Fagan be able to handle it? Still had to be careful. Watch his every move.
“What's this Special Sealed Appendix to the Op Order?" Fagan asked. “I don’t remember seeing any sealed parts of the OPORD when we picked it up at SUBPAC.”
“It was delivered later by special courier,” Hunter replied. “This one is very specifically “CO Eyes Only” so I can’t show you. It's in my inner safe. If anything happens and you need it, you know the combination. I don’t know what is in it yet, myself.”
Hunter continued, “Now what do we pass on to the SEALs and how do we plan this out? Let’s get Roland in here and discuss it. But remember, no one is to know about the smallpox , not even the SEALs."
21 Jun 2000, 0302LT (20 JUN, 2002Z)
The ramrod stiff SEAL Lieutenant stood at the stateroom door and barked, “LT Roland reporting as ordered, sir.”
“Come on in. Close the curtain and have a seat." Hunter pointed to the pot of coffee and stack of cups. "Grab a cup of coffee."
Roland sat down at the table and poured himself a cup.
"Things have changed. We can’t wait for the ARG to complete the mission. Not enough time. The terrorists are apparently about ready to make a shipment. We need to do some planning,” Hunter said. “I want to go over some options with you and the XO."
Hunter pulled his chair over so the three sat around the small table in the cramped stateroom. A large-scale chart of the area, the latest message and the now obsolete plan that they had so recently labored over were spread out on the tabletop.
Hunter started the discussion. “Timetables need shifting. We expect the weapons to be shipped within the next two days. We are tasked to stop it before the virus is off Nusa Funata. The Marines will be out of range for a week, at least. We'll have to do this with what we have. Any ideas?
Roland and Fagan looked over the charts while Hunter wrote on a pad that he had pulled from his desk. Roland commented, "Looks to me like we have two missions, the terrorists and the hostages. Can we do both?"
Hunter looked up from his writing. “
Lieutenant, the team topside has digital imagery communications capability, doesn’t it?”
The SEAL Lieutenant answered, “Yes, sir. They have gear to get intel for the Marines so they can do their Twelve Step Planning Process. They need as much intel as they can get and imagery is always the best way to give it to them. It’s also useful for strike planning. The ARG will use it for both aircraft and Tomahawk strike planning. Are you thinking of a Tomahawk strike?
Hunter began to write out a timeline. “That’s one step. I’m looking for a way to bring off both missions simultaneously. We think that the production facilities are in those caves Turnstill’s mining equipment dug. We can’t get TLAM’s into them. We don’t have any with penetrator warheads. But you can get demolitions in under the cover of confusion from a strike at their pier facilities and disruption from your snipers. Those .50 caliber sniper rifles can raise some havoc.
“I want to re-task the squad to geo-locate and image the pier facilities, airfield and the missile facilities for TLAM strikes. I also want them to find and verify the hostage positions. Our best intel is that they are under heavy guard but have not been moved. Also, looks like we are looking at a heavy weapons equipped battalion with some armor.”
“What missile facility? We haven’t been briefed on that,” barked LT Roland anxiously. Was there a threat to his team that he was kept in the dark about?
Fagan answered, “Latest estimate from NSA. They have found a possible anti-ship and anti-aircraft missile facility on top of Mount Guishu. Shooting from up there would command all sea-borne approaches."
He pointed to the location on the chart. "It has to go before we can even get close with the amphibs or if we have to do any surface operations.”
Hunter continued, “This new mission timing, though, will have to go before we can exfiltrate anyone. I think the sniper teams should set up to provide some cover fire in the vicinity of the hostage location. Meager protection, but the best we have.
Operation Golden Dawn Page 20
