Sword of Shiva - Страница 37

She handed Bowie his coffee, and dropped into a chair from which she could see the television.

On the screen, a throng of demonstrators was waving handmade signs and banners, across the street from a high-walled enclosure. The protestors were visibly agitated, but they appeared to be respecting the line of police barricades that kept them from approaching the walls. Many of them were clearly shouting, but no sound came from the muted television speakers.

The image cut to another crowd scene. The people were dressed differently and the architecture and color of the walls were not the same, but the anger of the picketers was just as palpable.

The news feed cut to yet another crowd, and this one seemed on the verge of riot. Some of the demonstrators were hurling rocks and bottles over the top of the wall. Occasionally, one of the bottles would smash into a wall and shatter, splattering the stone façade with what must have been red paint. In the background, trucks were disgorging squads of helmeted riot police.

The scene cut again. Another crowd, this one lighting red flags on fire, and dropping them in the street to burn.

Silva looked at Bowie. “What the hell’s going on?”

Bowie glanced up at the screen. “I was watching that earlier,” he said. “From what I can tell, Chinese troops gunned down about a hundred protestors in Tibet last week. The PRC kept a lid on the story until a video popped up on CNN. Some American tourist — McDowell, or McDonald, or something like that — witnessed the whole thing from his hotel window. He recorded the whole thing on his cell phone, and gave the recording to the media. This is the backlash. Tibetans and Tibetan sympathizers are protesting outside of Chinese embassies and consulates all over the world.”

“Some of those demonstrations don’t exactly look peaceful,” Silva said.

“Yeah,” said Bowie. “And the Chinese government is blaming this on the U.S.”

Silva stared at him. “What?”

Bowie set down his pen. “A politburo spokesman was on a little while ago, reading a statement. They’re saying that this tourist guy, McDonald, was some kind of CIA plant, sent into Tibet to stir up unrest. They’re also claiming that the American news networks are operating on instructions from the federal government, and the United States is deliberately trying to turn global opinion against the People’s Republic.”

Silva raised an eyebrow. “The media taking orders from the U.S. government? They obviously don’t understand how that whole freedom-of-the-press thing works.”

“They understand,” Bowie said. “But they’ve gotten themselves into one hell of a mess with India, and they’re trying not to come off like the bad guys — at least in the minds of their own population.”

He rotated his cup on the table, causing the coffee to swirl within its porcelain confines. “If I’m reading the tea leaves correctly, we’re going to see some action pretty soon. China is pretty pissed at us about this Tibet thing, and shooting down their satellite probably hasn’t done anything to improve their mood.”

Silva was about to respond when the wardroom door opened and the executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Matthews, walked in with a routing folder in his hand.

The XO nodded to each of the other officers. “Good evening, Captain. Evening, Commander. I apologize for interrupting.”

He strode across the room and held out the folder to the captain.

Bowie accepted the folder and flipped it open. “What’s up, Brian?”

“A change in ROE,” the XO said. “Our Chinese pals have just been officially designated as hostile.”

Bowie gritted his teeth, and scanned the message rapidly.

...

//SSSSSSSSSS//

//SECRET//

//FLASH//FLASH//FLASH//

//011027Z DEC//

FM COMPACFLT//

TO COMCARSTRKGRU FIVE//

COMDESRON ONE FIVE//

USS MIDWAY//

USS TOWERS//

USS FRANK W FENNO//

USS DONALD GERRARD//

INFO COMSEVENTHFLT//

CTF SEVEN ZERO//

SUBJ/RULES OF ENGAGEMENT SUPPLEMENT//

REF/A/DIR/CJCSI 3121.01F/

REF/B/RMG/COMPACFLT/210114Z NOV//

NARR/REF A IS THE CHAIRMAN OF THE JOINT CHIEFS STANDING RULES OF ENGAGEMENT (ROE) FOR U.S. MILITARY FORCES//

NARR/REF B IS THE PREVIOUS RULES OF ENGAGEMENT SUPPLEMENT, ISSUED TO U.S. NAVY UNITS IN THE INDIAN OCEAN AND BAY OF BENGAL OPERATING AREAS//

1. (SECR) REF B IS HEREBY CANCELLED. YOUR ROE ARE AMENDED AS FOLLOWS:

2. (SECR) PEOPLE’S LIBERATION ARMY (PLA) MILITARY ASSETS WITHIN YOUR AREA OF RESPONSIBILITY ARE NOW REGARDED AS HOSTILE. YOU ARE DIRECTED TO ENGAGE AND DESTROY PLA MILITARY FORCES TO THE MAXIMUM EXTENT POSSIBLE, CONSISTENT WITH LAWS OF ARMED CONFLICT.

3. (SECR) MILITARY ASSETS OF THE REPUBLIC OF INDIA ARE TO BE CONSIDERED FRIENDLY. ALTHOUGH NO JOINT U.S./INDIAN OPERATIONS ARE CURRENTLY PLANNED, YOU ARE DIRECTED TO AVOID INTERFERENCE WITH INDIAN MILITARY ACTIONS TO THE MAXIMUM EXTENT POSSIBLE, CONSISTENT WITH LAWS OF ARMED CONFLICT.

4. (SECR) THERE ARE TIME-CRITICAL GEOPOLITICAL FACTORS WHICH NECESSITATE A QUICK AND DECISIVE END TO THIS CONFLICT. THOSE FACTORS CANNOT BE DISCUSSED AT THIS LEVEL, BUT SECNAV CAUTIONS ALL RECIPIENTS THAT FAILURE TO ACHIEVE RAPID MILITARY DOMINANCE IN YOUR REGION MAY HAVE FAR-REACHING CONSEQUENCES TO NATIONAL SECURITY AND GLOBAL STABILITY.

5. (UNCL) MOVE FAST. STRIKE FAST. STRIKE WELL. GOOD LUCK AND GOOD HUNTING! ADMIRAL STANFORD SENDS.

//011027Z DEC//

//FLASH//FLASH//FLASH//

//RBT 2034539//

//SECRET//

//SSSSSSSSSS//

Bowie finished reading the message, and passed it to Commander Silva.

She had only read the first few lines when a sharp electronic klaxon came blasting out of the ship’s 1-MC speakers.

The alarm was quickly replaced by the amplified voice of the Officer of the Deck. “General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands man your battle stations. Set Material Condition Zebra throughout the ship. Commanding officer, your presence is requested in Combat Information Center.”

Captain Bowie was out of his chair and headed for the door before the GQ alarm cut in again. “Coming, Kat? Looks like it’s going to hit the fan a little sooner than I thought.”

CHAPTER 42

...

-------------------------

From: <robert.monkman@navy.mil>

Sent: Monday, December 1, 5:34 PM

To: <b.haster@ucsd.edu>

Subject: Poker

My Dearest Beth,

I have to tell you that I’m still pretty screwed up over what happened to Poker. I mean, one second, he was right there on my starboard wing, and the next second his 18 was going down in flames.

I can’t even understand how it happened. He was a good pilot. A great pilot. For all my bragging, he was a hell of a lot better than me. But he’s dead now, and somehow I’m still alive.

I wish I could take back all the stupid shit I said to him. His first two initials were O. W., and I used to tell everybody that they stood for Orville Wright. All I ever talked about was how ancient he was, and how it was time for him to get his crotchety old ass into a retirement home, and make room for some real pilots.

Poker was a good guy. A good officer, and a good man. He looked out for his people. He looked out for me. He taught me, and guided me, and kept me out of trouble. I would have never gotten my night landing quals if Poker hadn’t been covering my six.

How did I thank him? I sat back like an idiot while those Chinese fuckers blew him right out of the sky. Now he’s gone, and I’ll never be able to tell him how much he meant to me.

I’m sorry. I know I keep droning on and on about this, but it’s killing me. Everybody keeps treating me like some kind of badass because I shot down two J-15s, and blasted the shit out of another one. But if I’m such a badass, where the hell was I when Poker needed me?

I’m back in the patrol rotation, but I’m not sure I should be. What kind of a wingman lets his lead go down in flames? What if it happens again? What if I’m some kind of jinx, and anybody who flies with me gets iced?

I don’t know, Beth. I don’t know anything anymore. I wish I could talk to you right now. I wish I could hear your voice, and talk this through with you until it starts to make some kind of sense.

I wish…

Hang on. The GQ alarm is going off. Got to get to my battle station.

Love you!

More later,

Rob

LT(jg) Robert J. Monkman

VFA-228 Marauders

USS Midway (CVN-82)

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CHAPTER 43

USS TOWERS (DDG-103)

BAY OF BENGAL

MONDAY; 01 DECEMBER

1734 hours (5:34 PM)

TIME ZONE +6 ‘FOXTROT’

The Tactical Action Officer pointed to the Aegis display screens. “Raid warning, Captain. Twenty Bogies coming in high from the southwest. No modes, no codes, no IFF. Threat axis is about two-one-four. Looks like they’re lining up for an air strike against the Midway.”

Bowie nodded. “What does Hawkeye say?”

“Hawkeye concurs that this is a probable strike against the carrier, sir. They’re vectoring in three flights of Combat Air Patrol for mop up work, in case any leakers get past us.”

Bowie looked at the cluster of hostile air symbols. Twenty red inverted v-shapes were moving toward the Towers, and toward the aircraft carrier on the other side of the destroyer’s protective missile envelope.