right now.
CHAPTER 10
Saturday, 29 June
1245 local (Zulu -7)
TFCC
USS Jefferson
“Now just how the hell do we explain this to Seventh Fleet!” Tombstone
shouted into the receiver. “This was supposed to be routine FON ops–how many
times do I have to explain that to you? Do you think that includes lighting
up a foreign national’s aircraft? With fire control radar? Do you suppose he
and his government might take the slightest bit of offense at that? Damn it,
Killington, that’s a violation of every known rule of peacetime engagement!”
“And because my ship was ready, I’m talking to you now, Admiral! With
all due respect, if you are ordering me to compromise the safety of the
Vincennes, I decline.” Captain Killington’s voice was coldly self-righteous.
Tombstone glanced across the desk at the JAG officer, a lawyer with
extensive expertise in international maritime. The JAG shrugged and nodded.
No help from that corner, Tombstone thought. I know as well as he does
that no Board of Inquiry will ever blame him. That SOB is damned lucky he got
shot at! The end justifies the means, in this case. But it’s entirely
probable that he provoked the whole incident.
“I better not see a single action that can possibly be interpreted as
aggressive out of you,” he warned Killington. “You’ve damned near gone over
the line this time.”
“If I had, you’d have already relieved me,” Killington snapped. “And if
you’re certain I have and you don’t, then stand by to join me at that long
green table, shipmate. Because if I go down, you’re going with me!”
Tombstone slammed the receiver down and flung himself back away from the
desk. The bitch of it was that Killington was right. If he relieved the man
of command now, Killington would claim that he’d energized his fire control
radar in self-defense. And if he didn’t, he would appear to condone any
subsequent actions by the Aegis cruiser CO.
“You’re taking notes,” Tombstone said finally to the JAG officer sitting
quietly across from him.
“Yes, Admiral. For what it’s worth, I don’t envy your position.” The
JAG officer shook his head. “Either way, we’ve got problems. Can you afford
to take the chance that he was right?”
“At this point, I’m going to. My gut tells me not to do it, but I’m
going to leave him in command. Maybe the Navy knew what it was doing when it
gave him command, maybe it didn’t. For now, I’ll trust the selection
boards–if not Captain Killington himself.”
Tombstone leaned forward and punched the intercom button for CAG.
Captain Cervantes answered up immediately.
“CAG, get me some air-power up there. I don’t want any repeats of the
Stark business.”
As the JAG left the office, Tombstone glanced at the Western history book
still open on his coffee table. As surely as Wyatt Earp had known what
awaited him at the OK Corral, Tombstone knew that the battle group was
standing into danger. If the Chinese wanted a shoot-out in the South China
Sea, he’d be damned if he’d show up unarmed.
1300 local (Zulu -7)
Flight Deck
USS Jefferson
Onboard Jefferson, life suddenly became simultaneously much simpler and
more complicated. Most of the more restrictive rules of engagement had just
gone out the window on the trail of the submarine’s cruise missile,
uncomplicating the maze of determinations a commander needed to make before
launching weapons. However, the logistics of getting enough metal into the
air to protect the carrier battle group more than made up for any
simplification of the battle group’s engagement status.
The flight deck boiled with technicians. Red-shirted ordnance
technicians hauled yellow gear to waiting S-3B and ASW helicopters,
manhandling the torpedoes up to the weapons stations on the wings. Other
ordies restocked the sonobuoy slots along the underbelly of the aircraft.
Purple Shirts, the enlisted men and women who handled refueling, waited
impatiently. Refueling and rearming an aircraft simultaneously was too
dangerous.
The helos were ready to go first. They carried smaller weapons loads
than the fixed-wing ASW aircraft, only two torpedoes each. The SAR helo,
always airborne during flight operations, circled the carrier, waiting for the
carrier to declare a green deck.