Condition Zebra: The Next War - 2025

Chapter 28

There are always two sides to every question, and when it came to analyzing the present situation, Admiral John David Randall, Chief of Indian Ocean Operations, was meeting with Admiral Thomas Shannon, Military Sealift Command, to sort things through.

Shannon’s large convoy with the 1st USMD division had reached Diego Garcia, and the warships were replenishing. It was another 2000 miles to Oman, and the Admiral wanted to know where they were headed.

“Well, that division was originally slated for Japan,” said Shannon, “until they saw the buildup on the Kuwaiti border. So we moved it from Iwo Jima to Darwin to meet up with the heavy lift convoy there. Now there’s two possibilities. The largest port in Oman, and one of the most efficient, is Salaha. It’s a world class terminal transshipment point, with good berthing for our large ships, and S.O.A.G. company runs it like a clock. Thumrait airfield is just north for good air cover, but the one disadvantage is that the Saudi Empty Quarter is due north, and there’s no direct route into the Kingdom. It’s 650 miles from there to the U.A.E..”

“What about Muscat?”

“Also a good choice, with adequate size, deep water berthing, and cargo handling equipment. It’s covered by Muscat/Seeb Air Base, and is only 200 miles from the U.A.E.. The one drawback is that it’s right on the Gulf of Oman, which puts it within range of four or five airfields in Pakistan and Iran. Salaha would be safer. As Sultan Harbor at Muscat would be closer to the Saudis, but suppose they hit the place with DF-21’s right in the middle of that unloading operation? For my money, I would go with Salaha. It’s almost 600 miles to their big base at Al Anad near Aden. The two smaller airfields they operate in Yemen can be neutralized with another Tomahawk strike.”

“Alright, I’ll go with your recommendation and we’ll plan our sea control operation to be aiming for that port. How soon will you be ready to move?”

“Admiral, that’s up to you. We’ll be ready when you are.”

Admiral Randall nodded. “We’ve made the introductions, and they know we’re on the beat now. The curtain will be rising for act two of this thing around sunrise, tomorrow. We’re going to see what they do tonight after the skirmish today, and then make a final decision. I’ll keep you informed. What I can tell you now is that Independence moved into the Strait of Malacca today. They stopped at Singapore to fuel up the destroyers, and that position leaves them in a position to cover that port. The Chinese South China Sea Fleet retired to Veng Tau in Vietnam, but that isn’t saying they plan on staying there. Independence will continue up the Strait, because if the Chinese do move south again, they can strike them right across the Malay Peninsula. Sometime tomorrow, we may get a decision on whether Independence will enter the Indian Ocean, so this will bear on our operational planning.”

“I understand,” said Admiral Shannon.

After the meeting, Admiral Randall looked over the current situation map. The British had the early morning watch for December 1st and they put up three F-35’s in a flight coded Whalesign. As he looked over the screen, something seemed odd. Apparently the British had persistent radar signatures about 180 miles due north of their position, where none had been tracked earlier that day. It was too close for comfort. Word went out to that CAP flight to have a closer look.

The operators on the Hawkeye were the first to see it, scratching their heads as a spate of undefined contacts danced on the screen. They knew there was heavy jamming in the airwaves, and it wasn’t odd to see anomalies in the readings—land based radar signatures appearing over the sea on wild bearings. This time it looked like six surface contacts, and they were reading as two cruisers and four destroyers, now due north of Roosevelt and 225 miles out.

The Hawkeye was 180 miles to the southwest at 30,000 feet. Had it been daylight, it would have been able to spot the ships on the sea under good sighting conditions. They did a systems check, then initiated a protocol to see which assets could read those contacts.

“Whalesign, Bertha 3. We have Indians at 195. Go dark. Over.”

“Roger Bertha, Whalesign dark.”

“Wizard One, Go dark, please.”

“Roger that, Wizard One dark.”

The Hawkeye wanted the three British F-35’s to go EMCON, along with the British Merlin to see if the contacts were being made by their own equipment or being shared by those networked assets. The Merlin crew responded by shutting off its Blue Kestrel 7000 and Searchwater 2000 radars, leaving the Hawkeye as the only AEW asset that was actively interrogating. They watched their screens for a minute. Then they went passive for 60 seconds to see how the contacts might change. They were getting very specific equipment matches, Chinese Type 517H-1 Knife Rest radar sets, a typical 2D long range air search radar mounted on their destroyers. That certainly wasn’t sea clutter or abnormal wave readings.

Environmental effects could alter radio wave propagation, or cause odd diffraction to produce false readings like this, but even after the contacts were purged and the Hawkeye itself went dark, they were reacquired as soon as the system went live again. The readings had not deteriorated while the system was dark, as it should have. There was no precipitation or low level fog reported. All was clear.

“Whalesign One, Bertha. Please detach and come to 195 for a joyride.”

“Roger Bertha. Joyriding on 195.”

The British were sending one of their F-35’s out to have a closer look. Whalesign #1 broke off and turned on the assigned heading, moving closer to the contact positions. Then unaccountably, the other two fighters saw the plane disappear from their radar screens about 120 miles from the contacts.

“Whalesign One, come in. Whalesign One, please respond. Over.”

At that moment, the operators on the Hawkeye saw that USA-224 was orbiting directly above the ghostly contacts, and they all suddenly vanished. The readings disappeared, and in their place a series of contacts registered another 130 miles to the north. Two other US satellites got SIGINT detection on those, and USA-224 was using its visual camera to verify that data. Yet the new contacts did not match the ghostly readings they had earlier. They were now reading as a single cruiser, and they even had the name pegged: Heshen, the River God. With it were five destroyers and two frigates, eight ships total, and all identified by their emissions, and named.

But where was Whalesign One?

“Number three did you detect any missile firings?”

“Negative, Flight leader. All clear.”

“Bertha, Whalesign, we’ve a lost sheep. Over.”

“Roger that, Whalesign. Our ghosts are missing as well. We’ll put in a SAR request. Standby Over.”

Planes One, Three and Four had gone out that morning chasing ghosts, and one was missing. It could have been mechanical failure, so Number Three was cleared for a low elevation pass over the sea, following the same route taken by his missing mate. He reported no sign of wreckage, no survival beacon signals—nothing. It was as if the plane had simply been swallowed by the dark.

One other odd thing about the incident was that the US Seawolf Class Sub Seatiger had been just 18 miles south of the mysterious contacts, and was so convinced they had found good prey that their sonar teams were working up firing solutions. It was clear that they had identified a lot of noise coming from the group, but they would later report that they heard nothing that might be attributed to an aircraft crashing into the sea. Minutes later, the sea was deathly quiet again.

“Bertha, Whalesign. We are Bingo minus fifteen. Over.”

“Roger that, Whalesign. Saber Flight is up and heading your way. Bertha over.”

Aboard the controlling Hawkeye, a crewman was noting the newly reported contacts from USA-224 were now breaking up and beginning to exhibit uncertainty for position and bearing. The satellite was gone, and it was back to the province of radars.

“Look sir, this segment of the group is more stable, but these contacts are bouncing. They read as a single cruiser and five destroyers.”

“We had two cruisers and four destroyers earlier.”

“Yes sir, but that was a guesstimate. The system could have been wrong.”

“It’s all a guesstimate, Farley. No one ever lays eyes on these contacts. It’s all digital.”

Farley thought he had solved the problem, but there was one big missing piece he was not able to fit—Whalesign One—and he was wrong.

The moon had set long ago, and it was 48 minutes before sunrise when the Air Tasking Officers had been generating their orders for the last six hours. Roosevelt was operating round the clock. There was never any “down time” for things like sleep for the ship as a whole. The crews rotated, and the orders flowed to the Contingency Theater Air Control System (CTAPS) long before launch time. The Strike Teams from all involved squadrons were up and working, and the CAG (Carrier Airwing Commander) had already been briefed. In another hour, the Big Stick would be ready to rap some knuckles again, and let the enemy know who they were tangling with.

They had good target locations on the Chinese task forces, and a second Hawkeye was launching at 05:20 to make sure there would be no surveillance gaps when the early morning bird turned for home in another hour. Planes that had been serviced and loaded with ordnance were now making their way up the elevators to the flight deck. Bar none, USS Theodore Roosevelt was the most powerful airfield in theater. Come sunrise, it would be ready to take the fight to the enemy again, and in good strength.

On the Chinese side, Admiral Sun Wei was also busy with the task of trying to forge the first link in his Kill Chain. He had the approximate location of the Allied task groups, but it needed refinement. Without a carrier at hand to aid in that, he would now play a joker that he had kept hidden in his deck for some time.

About 100 to 150 miles off the Horn of Africa, there was a small archipelago of four islands, the largest and most prominent being the mysterious Yemeni island of Socotra to the east. Measuring 132 kilometers long by 50 kilometers wide (82 by 31 miles), the island was a desolate menagerie of exotic indigenous life forms found nowhere else on earth, and one of the most alien looking landscapes in the world. It had pristine beaches of pure white sand overlooked by craggy cliffs and twisted mountains where the strangest trees in the world grew. One was called the Dragon Blood Tree, its gnarled trunk and limbs reaching up into a saucer like canopy where its prickly needles all pointed directly up. The Chinese had come to call the island after that tree, and named it Long xue dao, or Dragon Blood Island.

Sparsely populated, Socotra had a single airstrip on the northern coast that had been kept deliberately empty of military assets. That night, however, two ships had hovered off shore near the northern tip of Ras Karma Airfield, which was just two miles over flat open terrain to the sea. The vessels had slipped out of the port of Aden the previous day, moving all night and through the dark early morning to reach the coast of Socotra well before sunrise. Running dark and in EMCON mode, they had arrived undetected, a pair of Type 079 amphibious ships, carrying a company of Chinese Marines, six Army HQ-9A batteries, with mobile radar sets.

That same morning, the Chinese had been patrolling with their AEW assets, and instead of sending them home to bases in Yemen on the Arabian Peninsula, they landed at Socotra. Those amphibious ships were also disgorging equipment to create a military FOB, or Forward Operating Base. The munitions delivered were exclusively the PL-10, 12 and 15 air to air missiles, and reserve HQ-9A’s for the SAM batteries.

The base had appeared deserted on US satellite imagery, but all the airborne assets from Yemen were now landing there instead of flying home. Four J-20’s had already landed to refuel, and six more were able to take off from the repaired field at Riyan on the Yemeni coast. Another half dozen had flown through the early morning darkness, all the way from Gwadar in Pakistan. They would all be reassigned to Ras Karma, which had tarmac space for about 16 fighters and medium sized planes like the KJ-200 AEW assets. So like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat, Admiral Sun Wei had produced an operational airfield within 250 miles of his mustering fleet, while the fields in Yemen were between 450 to 800 miles away. Though the base had limited capacity, the Admiral would hot rack planes there while others were airborne, and when they had to land, the sleepers would awaken and take off to make room.

Now six Mighty Dragons rigged for long range operations were heading southeast toward the Allied Fleet, fanning out as they went, their radars dark. Four were forward, with two farther back in reserve. At the assigned time, they would switch on radars and attempt to fix the position of the enemy ships for targeting data.

Before they could reach the desired point, they were going to have to pay the road toll. The US had a patrol of three F-35’s up, being joined by six more from Prince of Wales. US Ranger Flight spotted the incoming J-20’s and put their AMRAAM’s in the sky to stop them.

All the J-20’s switched on radars when that attack alarm sounded, but they saw no enemy planes—only those missiles, which danced out and quickly killed two of the four fighters. The remaining two forward J-20’s went to military speed, and darted forward at 1000 knots. Ranger Flight saw them, and already had two missiles out after the nearest. As it was caught and died, the two reserve J-20’s also charged forward at 1000 knots—but they could see nothing on their radar screens now, and just empty sky ahead.

Dragon six was the southernmost plane in the recon fan, and it was just seconds from being able to paint the Roosevelt group with its long range AESA radars when it ran into the six British F-35’s in Toba Flight. The Mighty Dragon never saw them, but it had fired a PL-15 at the US Hawkeye, which failed to get a kill, even as Toba Flight engaged it with Meteors. The J-20 died, but just after its radars sent home a position reading on the US carrier group.

Those last two reserve J-20s finally saw the British fighters when they fired their Meteors, about 140 miles to the south. What they did not see was Ranger Flight, just 60 miles away, and putting AMRAAM’s in the air. As the J-20’s closed to engage the British, they were suddenly under missile attack, and they would not live another five seconds….

Chapter 29

All six of Admiral Wei’s Mighty Dragons had died in that hot engagement, but one, Dragon #6, had managed to paint the Roosevelt carrier group. He knew he had to act at once, and put some pressure on that carrier, possibly preventing it from launching. Yet the Americans were 385 miles away, and only the YJ-100 had the range to attack them. The Gwadar group had 16 of those missiles, Colombo Group had 32, and his own Flag Group had 60, so he had over 100 javelins to throw, but he had to act immediately.

“General fleet order!” he shouted. “All Type 055 ships carrying YJ-100 will immediately fire half their inventory at the newly discovered targets.”

It was a long shot, he knew, and more to disrupt the enemy than to hurt him. For the US Captain had plenty of ways he could defend his carrier. As soon as the Vampires were spotted, Ranger Flight was already turning to engage with their remaining AIM-120’s. A scramble order to send up six more F-35’s was immediately sent to the Air Boss, and Archer Flight would soon be up to provide yet another layer of defense. Behind them, Captain Simpson had six more Super Tomcats loaded for heavy BARCAP, and they would be the inner defensive line.

That wasn’t all. His screening escorts were always there if any Vampires eluded the fighters, but he could make their job a little easier by simply maneuvering. A carrier could be anywhere in a 900 square mile circle in 30 minutes when it cranked those screws. Roosevelt was already pointed southeast, and the Captain just poured on the power and moved. So as the Chinese Admiral threw his punch, Captain Simpson would either block it, or just lean back like Ali and evade it.

“Archer, Bertha. Cleared Hot. Mad Dog, you’re off the leash.”

“Roger, Bertha. Mad Dog barking.”

The Tomcats were ready to cut those missile streams to pieces. Archer flight had split its fire between two groups, and ran dry, going Winchester at 08:05 that morning, and turning for Roosevelt. The Mad Dog took over, F-14’s carrying many more AIM-152’s. Only one Vampire of more than 50 escaped harm, and for that, there was SM-6. At 08:20 the all clear sounded, and Captain Simpson sent the Air Boss his orders—go get them.

Roosevelt would slow to 15 knots as the flights started catapulting off the deck. It would be a repeat performance of yesterday’s strike, aiming to neuter one more chosen TF of the Chinese fleet. There were two flights of six F-35’s carrying the GBU-53, for a total of 96 bombs. Then there were two more flights of Super Toms, one with Slammers, the other with the LRASM. Looking at the enemy dispositions, the Colombo group was 100 miles east of the remaining enemy TFs’ and so it was chosen for that day’s mission, being more isolated. Admiral Wells then ordered HMS Victorious to put up two flights of six F-35’s each for escort duties. Toba flight was still up there with Meteors off Prince of Wales, and it would be relieved.

With a 430 mile range, the LRASM’s were released almost immediately, the Toms turning for home. The Slammers would close to 160 miles and make the second release. As they approached, the F-35’s climbed to 50,000 feet and accelerated to 740 knots.

“Bertha, Mainswing. Call the pitch.”

“Roger Mainswing. Hot stuff, right down the middle. Swing away. Over.”

From the Chinese perspective, the only thing they saw on their radars were the Tomcats carrying Slammers, which had now turned for home. None of the F-35’s were detected, and then their alarms went off warning of a low sea skimmer, 20 miles out. It was the first of the LRASM’s.

The F-35’s now opened their weapons bays and started letting the GBU-53’s fly. Seconds later they turned for home, and the Chinese saw those two bright red fists on their radar screens. There were two Type 055’s in the group, Heshen, the River God as a forward picket, and Tianlong, the Heavenly Dragon guarding the three ASW frigates in the center with two other destroyers. Three more destroyers were fanned out to the rear. That formation now let go a torrent of missile fire, all HQ-9’s with an 80 mile range, and as before, they hunted down those GBU-53’s with merciless vigor.

One bomb got through to strike the River God, exploding one of her 324mm torpedoes and damaging the 130mm gun turret. No other hits were scored. Over 130 SAM’s had been expended, but Admiral Wei was pleased to learn damaged had been so light. The difference today was that the ships had not engaged Tomahawks before the strike, and so their SAM counts still left them in the fight.

It was clear that Roosevelt could execute a perfect strike, without losing a single plane, but could barely put a scratch on the enemy as well. As the disappointing results were returned, Captain Simpson decided he had to double down for round three, and use more F-35’s in the strike role.

“Mister Ripley, what’s left in the carrier magazine?”

XO Ripley would get than answer soon. Roosevelt still had 60 Slammers, plenty of anti-radiation missiles, 48 JSOW Broach, 36 more LRASM and 160 GBU-53. Those were the standoff weapons still in inventory, along with plenty of short range dumb bombs. The Captain reasoned that he had enough left for one big punch, and he had to make it hurt. Otherwise, he wasn’t going to back the Chinese Fleet down, and 1st USMC would be stuck at Diego Garcia.

“Check with the two Gators. They should have GBU-53 available too. Then get a message to this Admiral Wells,” said Simpson. “See what they might be able to contribute something on top of escort duty. And be polite, Ripley.”

“Yes sir.”

“Very well, we operate to keep the range outside 300 miles as per standing orders. If they want to follow us, they’re welcome. All that will do is pull them farther from any land based air support they have, not that it matters. They can’t see us, and they can’t shoot us down.”

That was an enviable position to be in. Simpson realized his limitations, but he also knew he was calling the tune out here, not the other side. He could stay at arm’s length, throw punches, and the Chinese couldn’t lay a finger on him. That’s what a big deck carrier does for you, and without a DF-21D in sight.

Admiral Sun Wei was no fool. He could see how the battle was developing, and clearly sized up his shortcomings in this situation. He had about 50 more YJ-100’s that could strike the American now. The rest of his power resided with the YJ-18’s on all the destroyers, but they needed to be within 290 miles of the target.

We have been steaming southeast at 25 knots to try and close the range, but we have not gained an inch, he thought. For a big ship, the American carrier is very fast. They will be able to keep us over 300 miles away as long as they wish. No wonder the Siberians developed a missile that could range out 700 miles, undoubtedly with the help of the Soviets.

If I persist, they can just lead me out into the Indian Ocean, but that course offers us no advantage. No, I must stay as close to our land based air cover as possible, so I will order a 180 degree about face. We go north west, back into the heart of the Arabian Sea. Then, if they wish to do battle, they must come to me.

Their Carrier Strike Group is a powerful foe. I had my way with the Royal Navy, because they had no credible strike option with their carriers. Here the Americans have real standoff strike power, and combined with their long range Tomahawks, they represent a strong and persistent threat. But they cannot continue to mount airstrikes like this indefinitely. There is a limit to what that carrier can hold in its magazines. Perhaps they withdraw southeast now for that reason. There could be unseen replenishment ships there, waiting to lift in fresh ordnance by helicopter. Then they start all over again, and they will slowly wear us down.

So what is to be done? I must think in the long run. What is it they want? They want to control the sea lane between Diego Garcia and ports in Oman, and I have interposed my fleet between their force and those ports. So how can I hurt them now? They are still hundreds of miles from Oman. I have a 300 plus mile lead on them if I make for the Omani coast. There are only two ports they could feasibly use to offload heavy warfighting equipment, Salaha in the west and As Sultan Harbor at Muscat in the east on the Gulf of Oman. So now I know what I must do—deny the use of those ports to the enemy.

Thus far I have sought to do battle with them, as I did with the British, but the Americans are an altogether different foe. So now I must change my strategy. Instead of killing their ships, I will simply kill their ports—just as they pounded all the airfields they thought we would be relying on. Yes, what a simple solution! Destroy the port facilities, and then where will their Marines and Army land?

Unfortunately, I cannot do this at range, for our missiles were not built for land attack, and I have too few fighters that could carry bombs and get through their air defenses. But I have a navy…. Every ship I command has deck guns…. Yes, I will simply go and sit off those ports, and then utterly destroy them!

The Admiral smiled as he gave his next order. “Issue a fleet wide communique. All task forces will come about to 350 degrees northwest, and all ahead full. We are going to Salaha.”

“Well now,” said Captain Simpson. “They’re withdrawing?”

“Yes sir,” said Executive Officer Bert Ripley. “Looks like they don’t like the Big Stick we’re carrying.”

Simpson’s eyes narrowed. “This guy in command over there is quite the cagey fellow. What do you think they’re up to, Mister Ripley?”

“Could be logistics,” said Ripley, thinking of the obvious. “We pulled a lot of SAM’s with that last strike.”

“Yes, but from just one of their task forces. That’s one big Dragon out there. They have five more Surface Action Groups we have yet to engage.”

“But they need fuel, sir.”

“True, but their better destroyers have legs, and I don’t think that’s the issue with them just yet.”

“Then they’re wanting air cover,” said Ripley. “They’re nearly 600 miles from the coast of Yemen and about 800 miles from Aden. If they want to make port somewhere, in Pakistan, it’s a thousand mile run.”

“They must have oilers out there behind them,” said Simpson. “I don’t know, but this move smells of something. Let’s get turned about and follow them. We can hold the range outside 300 nautical miles easily enough. Notify the British, will you?”

“Yes sir, keep your friends close.”

“Right, said Simpson. “And keep your enemies closer. We’ve got this beast by the tail, and now’s not the time to let go.”

“There’s one other thing, sir.”

“What is it, Mister Ripley?”

“This latest satellite report. It seems there’s new activity out on Socotra Island.”

“New activity?”

“Air units, sir. This latest recon pass showed a rotodome AEW plane there, and several fighters—J-20’s.”

“Interesting,” said Simpson, looking at the photograph. “Let’s put that little airfield out of business. Send that to the strike planners and have them work something up for the Tomahawks.”

At 13:45 Local, just a few minutes after the Chinese has posted their afternoon ASW patrol, the wounded River God ran into trouble—HMS Anson. The British sub had been between the Colombo group, and the main body of the fleet to the west, quietly looking for prey. The sonar team saw that one sheep in the flock was falling a little behind, for Heshen had been the only ship hit in the US airstrike that morning. Anson had crept to within 12 nautical miles, where her Captain, Francis Drake, decided to make a mad dash and fire. He accelerated to 24 knots, closed the range quickly to about 8 miles, then cut the engines to a creep.

“Shoot on generated bearings!” came the order, and a pair of Spearfish jetted out for the hunt.

“Steady on this course,” he said, wanting to keep his fish on the wire as long as possible. When it seemed that they were running true, he came about in a sedate maneuver, and started slinking away to the west. A minute later they heard two explosions.

The River God was dead….

That sent the entire formation to running full out at 30 knots to the north, as the lone Z-9 on the ASW patrol turned southwest toward the stricken destroyer, flying low over the sea. It stopped, deployed dipping sonar, but had no contacts. Anson was creeping away, not sprinting, wanting to be as quiet as possible. After 20 minutes of patient searching, the Z-9 had found nothing. A lion had downed the wounded wildebeest, and then made a good escape.

It was the second Type 055 heavy destroyer that Drake had sunk, and his 5th kill of the campaign, making him an undersea Ace in anyone’s book. He was second only to Captain Samuel Wood on HMS Trafalgar, and had just edged out HMS Triumph, credited with two kills and two more hits that ended in ship sinkings in the Med. So Drake was well in the running for the top spot as he moved away south, disappearing into the gloom of the Arabian Sea.

Chapter 30

That ‘something’ Captain Simpson had ordered up for the Ras Karma airfield would rise from the sea at 14:15, coming out of the silos of the USS Ohio. A small strike package of 15 TACTOMs was ordered up from a position about 500, miles south of Socotra. There was one KJ-200 there working on a mechanical problem, and ten J-20’s roosting on the tarmacs, but six were scheduled for air cover operations.

Flying unseen to the southern shore of the island, the Tomahawks now maneuvered nap of the earth through the folded mountains south of the airfield. By the time they emerged from the wrinkled valleys and gullies, it was almost too late to stop them with those HQ-9’s. An ammo truck near the runway was flayed by shrapnel from a near miss and exploded. The Avgas tanks were damaged, the KJ-200 AEW plane and three J-20’s were smashed on the tarmac. When the small strike ended, there were fires burning near the one small runway access point, which was deeply cratered. Nothing more was getting off that field until those fires were extinguished and that hole repaired.

At sunset, the CAG reported to Captain Simpson that all planes were rearmed and ready for operations. In addition to those on the Roosevelt, more F-35’s would be available from the two Gators: Solomon Sea and Makin Island. That would double the GBU-53 count from 96 to 182, enough punch to really saturate any group targeted this time. At Thumrait air base in Oman, six more Strike Raptors were lining up for takeoff.

Combat at sea was all about saturation. There were times when Karpov had teased his foes with the speed and range of his Zircons, firing them in ones and twos to test enemy defenses, but if you really wanted to sink ships, you had to defeat a concentrated, highly accurate and lethal SAM defense first. This is why those initial rounds of combat between large fleets were often inconsequential. The defense was just too strong. This time out, Captain Simpson was rolling for all the marbles. He wanted to strike a definitive blow, and put enough harm on the enemy to compel them to withdraw.

The target of his morning strike had turned to rendezvous with an oiler to refuel the frigates, and had now become widely separated from the main body, which was cruising 180 miles to its west, and now passing Socotra Island. That eastern group had come all the way from Colombo and saw River God lightly damaged by a single GBU-53, until Captain Drake on the Anson found that ship and put it at the bottom of the Arabian Sea. The enemy TF had been engaged earlier, and seemed a natural target this time out for the prospect of getting kills.

“I don’t like the heading the main body is on,” said Simpson. “It looks to me like they’re moving towards our preferred port at Salaha. So this group to the east looks inviting. If we take that out, we open a direct route to Muscat, and if we move up there, we interpose ourselves between the main body and the Gulf of Oman. They have a lot of ships out there, and they’ll be needing fuel soon. If we block their route to Gwadar or Karachi in Pakistan, then they’ll have to use Aden or the Red Sea ports. We could bottle them up. So let’s get after that eastern group and see if we can clean their clock.

Twelve F-35’s sang the overture, moving in with GBU-53’s. While their attack had been defeated twice before, with only two minor hits registered, this time they got better results. FF Luzhou was hit three times and badly damaged, her engines compromised to leave the ship dead in the water. The frigate would sink that hour. DDG Feiyun also took three hits, and was soon fighting a bad fire amidships. FF Qingyan took a single hit that was just a scratch aft, and remained operational.

Yet those 96 bombs took the heart out of the collective SAM defense. DDG’s Yangwu was dry, along with the three remaining frigates. They were down to guns and chaff. Only type 52D class destroyers Baomin, Huantai, and the squadron leader, Tianlong had anything left, about 20 HQ-10’s each. In effect, that entire task force had been neutered defensively. While it retained offensive missiles, it had no defensive shield to allow it to get in range to use them. They immediately turned north for Gwadar, but their chances of getting there were slim. They were 750 miles away….

The F-14’s had been circling, awaiting tasking orders as a kind of reserve wildcard. Now they were ordered to fire their Slammers and LRASM’s, and when the air alert alarms rang again on the Chinese ships, the Captain of the Heavenly Dragon knew his squadron was in real trouble. The Slammers came in and pounded the destroyer Yangwu, pummeling it from bow to stern.

Then the twelve LRASM’s began to vector in, catching the already burning Feiyun on the right flank of the formation and blowing it to pieces. Six miles off its starboard side, DDG Anlan was hit next, her hull fatally compromised and the ship listing heavily in minutes. Then the big Fusu Class oiler took multiple hits, and erupted with a volcanic explosion of smoke and fire. The last two missiles retargeted to the frigate Baise, and it was doomed from the moment they locked on.

With those SAM defenses beat down to nothing, it was like bowling, with five of the eleven pins knocked down thus far in the strike—and there was more pain on the way. The six Strike Raptors out of Thumrait AFB in Oman had been standing by for tasking orders, and now they were vectored in to finish this attack. Their expanded weapons bays each carried 24 GBU-53’s, twice the hitting power of an F-35. The first two planes in that flight of six were able to target each of the six surviving ships with 8 bombs each.

Three were hit and burning, but the GBU often needed multiple hits to put enough damage on a ship to sink it. Merciless, the Raptors circled, lined up on the targets a second time, and the next two planes were ordered to fire. The four screening ships were targeted with eight bombs each, and the last 16 were reserved for the Heavenly Dragon.

Destroyer Zhentao and frigate Qingyan died first, Then DDG Huantai took multiple hits, ravaged with fire. DDG Baomin was listing, but hanging on, and taking multiple hits, Tianlong, the Squadron Leader, was a raging mass of fire. The Raptors had delivered the coup de grace, but seeing the terrible pain they had brought to the enemy, the flight leader decided they had had enough.

“Raptor 6, this is Widowmaker. Well done. You are RTB. Over”

“Roger, Widowmaker. Turning.”

Task Force Colombo was destroyed.

The oily sea around the ships was burning, and hundreds of men were in the water. The fiery silhouettes of their ships slowly keeled over and hissed into the sea, leaving the survivors in a ghastly inferno. They were 200 miles from their comrades to the west, and too far from any friendly shore to expect any help. There they were, some lucky enough to get into a boat, but too many either already dead or simply clinging to wreckage in the water. Thankfully, air temperatures were balmy, and the water was not too cold.

Only two ships remained afloat 30 minutes later, destroyers, Tianlong and Baomin, but they were both on fire, and in no shape to take on the weight of survivors. The Captain gave the order to launch all boats and sent men with them to pull as many survivors out of the water as they could, but the boats would not bring them to a burning ship that was going to sink soon anyway. It was a hellish aftermath that could have been worse. Two Strike Raptors still had full weapons bays, the attack called off once all the enemy ships had been pummeled that night. Tianlong and Baomin would last another two hours, and then slip beneath the sea, the last of eleven ships that had sailed from the Bay of Bengal and Colombo on Sri Lanka.

For those men that remained in the sea, it was the longest night of their lives, and for many, their last. They clung together, talking first of anger and revenge, then of loved ones at home. In time, a silence fell over the scene, hazed over with acrid dark smoke. As it slowly dissipated, they looked up at the clear night sky, and the glittering diamond stars were they last thing many would see.

When Admiral Sun Wei learned of the disaster he was stark and silent for a time. Damn that stubborn mule, Hong Buchan! He was ordered to bring that task force west to join the main fleet, but he was still heading north when this attack came in. Now he orders the remainder of the Arabian fleet to go steaming off as we plan our bombardment operation against Salaha. I must have words with Beijing….

Then he gave orders that fleet Auxiliary 920, the Anwei hospital ship, should move immediately to the scene of the attack. Called the “Peace Arc” in better times, the unarmed hospital ship was painted white, with bold red crosses so there would be no mistaking her for a combatant. Helicopters were already thumping their way off the decks of his other 28 ships in the main body. They would get there quickly to begin rescuing swamped crewmen, and taking the seriously injured to the hospital ship. Those that were sound of limb would return to serve again on ships of the main fleet, but too many would die that night, underscoring the ghastly nature of war.

At OMCOM, Admiral John Randall reviewed the BDA reports, pleased that Roosevelt had finally broken through to do some real damage. The presence of that ship alone, with its ability to strike the enemy from well beyond the range of their own missiles, was decisive. And the strikes were potent enough to wear down the defense and then sink ships. The US was following the simple maximum of warfare at sea, strike first, and do so with good effectiveness.

Yet the main body of the enemy fleet had not been engaged. The single carrier had been picking off flanking task forces, sending one home to Aden, and destroying the other. Now that main body was stubbornly holding to a course that would take it to Salaha Harbor, the big port the US has selected for the delivery of the 1st Marine Division. With the battle going well, those troops were already on the water again, and heading towards Oman.

The airfield north of that port had ten good fighters, including those Strike Raptors, but it was just 45 miles north of the harbor. That meant the enemy fleet would have it within its SAM envelope if it hove too off Salaha, which is what the Admiral now divined as the Chinese intention. It would make operations at that base difficult, for unless the inherent stealth of the fighters allowed them to remain unseen, they would be in SAM range the moment they took off. There were also more vulnerable support assets there, an E-3 Sentry, two Poseidons and a pair of KC-135 Stratotankers. There were even a couple of MC-130 Combat Talons, with a company of Army Rangers. Those would all be definitely spotted and attacked the moment they took off, so it was time to be elsewhere.

The next operational field in Oman was Masirah, on a small island just off the coast, about 325 miles to the northeast. He could order all assets at Thumrait to move there, and decided that should happen for the support planes immediately. There were also five ships in the port itself that were given orders to slip out of the harbor that night, and head north. With the enemy fleet just a little over 200 miles to the south, they were already at risk.

So at 21:00, Littoral Combat Ships Recon and Scout were escorting the cargo carrier Ocean Trader, light amphibious ship Swift, and PC Sea Hunter. The Strike Raptors had landed and the air crews were hastening to get those weapons bays reloaded. If the enemy was headed their way, they’d have something to say about it in the morning.

All this meant one thing—unless that main body was decisively defeated, and driven off before it could reach Salaha, that port was off the list for the Marines. They would have to go to Muscat, which is why the Admiral reasoned Roosevelt had hit that eastern enemy TF, to open that sea lane.

Seeing what it took to kill that TF, taking on another 28 ships in the main fleet was a daunting prospect. What they really needed now was a second carrier, and the only prospect at hand was the Independence, which was now just off the northern tip of Sumatra, some 2100 miles from the present position of Roosevelt. Even at the brisk clip of 32 knots, that was 35 hours away. So the Big Stick has to carry the weight for another day and a half, he thought. Time for the British to step up their game.

Admiral Wells was thinking the same thing aboard HMS Prince of Wales. The day had been uneventful, a blessing after the harrowing battle he had endured earlier. His carriers had been flying recon, CAP and escort missions, but no strikes. Now he informed Captain Simpson that he had a full squadron of 12 F-35’s mounted with the new SPEAR munition.

When the war came, Brimstone was seen to be all but useless as a standoff attack weapon, with only a 37 mile range. That was close, and well inside the 80 mile range of the Chinese HQ-9 SAM’s. So SPEAR was developed as the next generation standoff weapon, with a much better range of 80 nautical miles. Even if seen on enemy radars, the delivering planes could release, turn, and withdraw outside of SAM range easily enough, but it had one problem.

Like Brimstone, it had a small 8Kg warhead, so it lacked real punch against large surface combatants, and needed multiple hits to do damage. By comparison, the American GBU-53 had six times the hitting power, with a 48Kg penetrating warhead. The US considered that bomb a light strike munition, and SPEAR was a real featherweight, but at least it was something. Without it the British F-35’s really had no standoff attack capability, and could only drop short range bombs. Clearly no one in Whitehall or Whale Island seemed to take the possibility of a war like this as likely, because they were woefully unprepared for it when it came.

There is an old saying: if you want peace, prepare for war. The militaries on all sides futzed about, building ships and planes, seeing them retire and be replaced by new ones, and many never fired a shot in anger. No one really knew what a modern war would be like, or how their weapons might perform in actual combat. During the Falkland’s War, the British had to ask the US for stocks of Sidewinder missiles to survive. Here they were begging them for the Enhanced Sea Sparrows to save their frigates, because the Sea Ceptor could not catch or kill missiles that could travel at 1900 knots as they attacked. The British knew those enemy missiles were out there, but no one had ever seen them in action, so they deployed Sea Ceptor anyway. Now they paid the price.

What the Chinese had done was to look at the cards being held by their potential enemies, and then trump them with the weapons they would deploy. Until the US began to retool Tomahawks to make the MMT’s, the longest range surface warfare missile the West had was the Harpoon or Exocet at 75 to 100 miles in range. Strangely, even the new Naval Strike Missile could only reach out 100 miles. China decided it could fight in a circle between 200 and 400 miles out, and it proved that when engaging and clearly defeating the Royal Navy as it was configured before the war.

Here, the story was completely different. The US big deck carrier was unhinging all Admiral Sun Wei’s plans, and he had no means of adequately countering it. The bulk of his power resided in those deadly YJ-18’s with a 290 mile range, and Captain Simpson would never allow his carrier to sail inside that range. So Sun Wei had no more than 100 cruise missiles that could reach the carrier, the YJ-100’s, but they would not be enough to break through the concentric circles of defense around that target. The big deck carrier was again proving that it was the master of this battlefield, attacking with impunity, while remaining largely invulnerable to counterattack. The Dragon fire was hot for those it could catch, but the Eagle soared high above, ruling the skies, and it was utterly fearless.

Just before dawn on the 2nd of December, the pilots were getting their briefing. When ordered, the British planes would form up and fly with the Americans, or rather just behind them, so that both planes could time their weapons release simultaneously. Another big attack was in the offing. By 05:30, the Chinese Fleet was about 80 miles south of Salaha Harbor, and six Strike Raptors were again ready at Thumrait, each carrying 24 GBU-53’s. Those would be added to the two F-35 squadrons, another 24 planes each carrying eight GBU-53’s. Together those 30 aircraft could put 336 bombs in the sky, coming from both the north and south in a terrible pincer of flying steel and explosives.

Given that kind of saturation, Admiral Wells had every confidence his boys were going to start getting some payback for the pounding they had taken from the Chinese YJ-18’s. Ships were going to be hit today, he thought, and they were going to die.