Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 06 (59 page)

           
The People’s Republic of China went
one step further, restricting all U.S. warships from coming within a hundred
miles of its shores or they would consider it an act of war. They knew that the
Independence
had been bound for the
Formosa Strait
, and they surmised that the
United States
was using the attacks on the two frigates
Duncan
and
James Daniel
as a pretext to launch a preemptive nuclear strike on
China
. All
U.S.
warships already within the
one-hundred-mile buffer zone had twenty-four hours to get out, or they would be
attacked without warning.
China
then revealed the position and even the
identification of four
U.S.
submarines in the
Formosa Strait
and
South China Sea
, including two ballistic missile attack
subs, and estimated that perhaps as many as ten more were in the vicinity,
ready to wage war on the
Peoples
Republic
of
China
.

 
          
In
hours, virtually the entire
Pacific Ocean
was off-limits to the U.S. Navy.

 
          
Joe
Roma knew all of this was bullshit. First, he knew from intelligence reports
that all nuclear weapons had been removed from all Navy warships except some
ballistic missile subs, just as they had been removed from American bombers,
since 1991—and nothing that he had been briefed lately caused him to believe
that the recent incidents with China had altered that policy. It was possible
that the President had changed his mind and rearmed hundreds of capital
warships around the world in less than a month, but Roma thought it very
unlikely.

 
          
Second,
nuclear warheads do not go off by themselves, no matter how badly they are abused.
Roma knew enough about the inner workings of a modern-day nuclear warhead to
know that it would take much more than a crash landing to set it off, even one
that had been prearmed and was ready to be released or launched—they had dozens
of safety devices and delivery parameters that had to be met before a full
nuclear yield could result. If one parameter or interlock was not satisfied, or
if there was the slightest bit of damage to a weapon, it simply would not
function. It was possible that an accident or internal failure could cause a
large non-nuclear explosion, scattering radioactive debris, but a full yield
from a damaged weapon, even if it had been prearmed, was virtually impossible.

 
          
Bottom
line: the nuclear device had to have been set. The protests in
Yokusuka
Harbor
before the
Independence
set sail would have provided the perfect
opportunity for a terrorist to plant a device somewhere on the hull.

           
But for some reason no one was
suggesting this might be the work of a terrorist. There were plenty of
so-called experts on all of the networks, and almost all of them were blaming
the
United States
for sloppy handling of nuclear weapons
during a time of crisis caused by the
United States
flying stealth bombers all over
Asia
. The
United States
government, and President Kevin Martindale
and his administration in particular, were being blamed for the deaths of
nearly six thousand American soldiers, the loss of fifteen billion dollars’
worth of military hardware, the astronomical environmental disaster that was
likely to occur in northeastern
Japan
and the northern
Pacific Ocean
, and for threatening the world with
thermonuclear war.

 
          
While
Roma had a “compose new message” window open on his computer answering other
messages, he decided to drop a line to his old teacher and mentor, Lieutenant
General Terrill Samson, commander of Eighth Air Force. No doubt Samson was at
U.S. Strategic Command headquarters right now, in the huge underground command
center that had formerly been the nucleus of the Strategic Air Command. It was
a simple message, not demanding a reply: “What’s happening, boss?” along with
his phone number and E-mail address. He then forged ahead with the pile of
E-mail messages waiting for his response.

 
          
Roma
was halfway through his list of E-mail messages when he was interrupted by a
page. When he tried to return it, he was notified by an electronic voice that
he needed a secure telephone to dial it. The only STU phone he knew of was in
the command post, so he went over to the command post communications center and
dialed the number.

 
          
“Samson.
Go.”

 
          
Roma’s
mouth went instantly dry. “General Samson? This is Joe Roma, returning your
page.”

 
          
“Paisan!
How the hell are you?” Terrill
Samson asked excitedly. Their times together at the
Strategic
Warfare
Center
had always been relaxed and informal, more
like a college campus or pro sports team rather than a strict military unit.
And Terrill Samson had been like a pro football coach—unrelenting and harsh at
practices, demanding and disciplined during the missions, but not afraid to
share a cigar and a pitcher of beer or two after a successful game.

 
          
“I’m
doing fine, sir.”

 
          
“Got
your message,” Samson said. “I’m sure you’ve got to be knee- deep in the
generation out there, right?”

           
“That’s an understatement, sir,”
Roma said.

 
          
“You
pulling a line?”

 
          
“Sortie
one,” Roma replied. “The other lines are coming up slow but sure.”

 
          
“I
thought you were the S-01 crew IOSO.” The S-01 crew Instructor Offensive
Systems Officer was the number one bombardier of the best, most experienced
crew on the base—that slot belonged to Joe Roma.

 
          
“They
put me with E-05,” Roma said. “Great crew, but they got no experience with SIOP
stuff. Hardly anyone does around here—the maintained, logistics, crewdogs, even
some of the commanders.”

 
          
“That’s
why we got you old warhorses pulling crews,
paisan,”
Samson said. “Something else on your mind, Joe? I’m a little busy.”

 
          
“Yeah,”
Roma said, his mind reeling after what had to be the understatement of the
century. He hesitated a moment, unsure whether or not he should bring this up,
then decided, what the hell: “General, what in hell are we doing loading nukes?
I’m not criticizing you or my orders, and you know I’ll do the job, but what’s
out there that we can’t blow up with a GATS/GAM or conventional cruise
missile?”

 
          
“Do
I have to explain the whole concept of nuclear deterrence to you,
paisan?”
Samson asked, with only a hint
of humor in his voice. “Just do everything by the book and you guys will be
fine.”

 
          
“Sure,
we’ll be fine, sir,” Roma said. “But the whole concept of using forty kilotons
to destroy an entire city is silly, when all we need to do to stop the enemy is
blow up a command post or comm center or runway. If the nukes did something
that conventional bombs couldn’t do, I could understand what’s going on, but
the nukes . . . well, hell, sir, you know what I’m talking about. We discussed
this lots of times at the SWC.”

 
          
“You’re
preaching to the choir here, my friend,” Samson said. “Tell me something I
don’t know.”

 
          
“Give
me a few hours and I’ll put together a few B-l sorties that’ll stop the Chinese
dead in their tracks,” Roma said confidently. “Load us up with some GBUs and
some real defense-suppression stuff and tell us what the targets are,
General—me and the boys will take them out for you. We don’t need the nukes.”

 
          
“The
word came down from CINCSTRATCOM, not me,” Samson said, referring to Admiral
Henry T. Danforth, commander in chief of U.S. Strategic Command. “The admiral
said he wanted the bombers to go formal to the big dance.|

 
          
“Does
he really intend to use the nukes, sir?” Roma asked.

 
          
“Hell,
Joe, you know that all we need to do is
prove
to the bad guys that we
might
use
them, demonstrate our resolve, and we’ve won,” Samson said. “The boss thinks
that generating the bombers and sticking them back on alert will show the
Chinese and everyone else that we mean business.”

 
          
It
was the old Cold War schtick, Roma thought, and frankly, he thought he’d never
hear the “party line” from Terrill Samson. Samson’s basic philosophy was very
simple: give him an objective, and he’ll find a way to do it. Even if the White
House had given Samson a vague order like “Stop China,” Samson would have found
a way to do it—and without using nuclear weapons, which Roma knew Samson thought
were barbaric at best and murderous at worst. “Loading nukes on the Beaks and
Bones isn’t going to convince anyone of anything, sir, and you know it,” Roma
argued.

 
          
“The
word came from on high,
paisan ”
Samson said. “Too late to argue about it. They tell me ‘jump’—yada, yada, yada,
you know the rest.”

 
          
“Pardon
me for speaking out, sir, but if you want to send the Chinese a message—if you
think, like I do, that the Chinese or some radical Japanese planted a backpack
nuke on the
Independence
—then blasting
through Chinese air defenses and destroying a couple missile bases will do the
trick. They know full well that we won’t start a nuclear war, and we know that
the Chinese don’t have the force structure to wage a nuclear war or stage a
massive invasion.”

 
          
“Joe,
I agree with you, but you’ve got to remember that the
Independence
and three other ships were blown up by a
nuclear weapon, and we lost
six thousand
troops ”
Samson said pointedly. “The Joint Chiefs think it was the Chinese,
and if it was, it’ll be the second time in a month they’ve attacked American
forces and the second time they used nuclear weapons. They’re obviously trying
to force the
U.S.
out of
Asia
, and the President is not going to allow
that. We’re lining up other options, but the President and Secretary of Defense
definitely wanted the nuclear forces back on alert until we find out what bases
we have available to us overseas and whether or not we can use the carriers.”

 
          
“Sir,
I understand that the President wants revenge,” Roma said, “but no one out here
on the line thinks he’s going to use nukes on anybody. It’s an exercise in
futility” He paused, then: “General Samson, the recent skirmish against
Iran
, the attacks on the targets inside
Iran
and on that carrier—that was a stealth bomber
attack, wasn’t it? You planned those attacks, didn’t you?” Samson didn’t answer
right away, so Roma went on: “If so, sir, let’s do it again. Pick the targets
in
China
that are the greatest threat to us or our allies, then send in the B-ls
and B-2s. We’ll loudly kick ass for you, I guarantee it.”

 
          
There
was what felt like a long, uncomfortable pause; then Samson said distractedly,
“Stand by one, Joe,” and the line went quiet. Roma wished this conversation had
never taken place—he was embarrassing himself in front of his mentor and
superior officer. It sounded as if Joe Roma was squeamish about the possibility
of using nuclear weapons, or going to war, which he definitely wasn’t. He also
felt that perhaps he was being perceived as taking advantage of his access and
friendship with Terrill Samson to voice his opinion, which he certainly didn’t
need right now.