environmental nightmare of spilled oil in the strait.”
“Well, what are we doing about the goddamned Iranians? That’s your area, Arnold.”
“Sir, you want me to declare war on ’em? Or at least advise you to do so?”
“I don’t know, Arnold.” The President’s voice was rising. “I just know this could be a major national crisis. And we seem powerless.”
“Well, we’re not that, sir. However, I do not want to make any kind of extravagant move until we clear the mines, quietly, and with as little rancor as possible. A hot war raging around the minesweepers would clearly be absurd. However, when the field is cleared, I’ll be happy to station a lot of muscle in the strait and warn both Iran and China that one false move means we’ll sink ’em.”
“Well, why not issue that warning right now?”
“I just did, sir. Three hours ago.”
“You told ’em we’d sink them?”
“Sir, I just sent a joint communique to Tehran and Beijing informing them of our anger at their conduct, and our intention to eliminate any warship from any nation that tries to interfere with the removal of the sea mines.”
“And what about the future, Arnold? The future. That’s what my job is all about. What about the damned future? How do we know the Chinese might not mastermind this kind of stunt again?”
“Sir, as you know, they have a very large petrochemical and oil refinery on the southern Iranian coast. And it’s tapped right into the heart of the oil fields of Kazakhstan. I was proposing to recommend its elimination.”
“It’s WHAT?”
“
“You mean bomb it?”
“Sir. Please? Let’s not be crude, like the oil.”
“Well, what are you saying?”
“I’m proposing an insertion of Special Forces, to put that refinery out of action forever.”
“You mean the SEALs?”
“Yessir.”
“Can we get them in? And out again?”
“Sure we can. We can do anything.”
“But surely everyone will know it’s us?”
“Same as we know who mined the gulf. But no one’s saying anything, at least not in a confrontational way. We make no accusations, at least not publicly. They make no admissions. We just do what we do.”
“But surely the goddamned Chinese would go bananas if we blew up their refinery?”
“Nossir. They’d feel like going bananas. But they’d get a very quiet message from us…
“Arnold, your brutality occasionally takes my breath away. But I like it. Makes me feel safe in this big chair.”
“My job, sir, is to make every American feel safe, no matter how big or small his or her chair may be.”
“Should I now conclude this strategy meeting?”
“Mr. President, this is not strategy. This is direct action. Clear the strait. Protect the sweepers. And then guard the strait with all the menace we can. By that I mean four CVBGs on station between the area inside the gulf, and our base on Diego Garcia. Any foreign warship moves in that area without our express permission, that warship’s history.”
“Arnold, please go ahead as you think fit.”
“That’s not quite all, sir.”
“It’s not? What else? You planning to conquer Russia or something?”
“No, sir. But I am distressed by China’s plain and obvious Naval expansion. It’s no secret they want a blue- water navy for the first time in more than five hundred years. And it’s no secret they are expanding at a rapid and apparently sustainable rate. In the past few years they’ve created a new submarine fleet. They’ve bought two aircraft carriers, three Russian destroyers and a ton of hardware from the old Soviet missile outfits. They’re reaching out, sir. And we really don’t like it.”
“We don’t?”
“Sir, we are staring a major problem bang in the face. China is on the move. They have cozied up to us for a lot of years. And they’ll go on doing so for as long as it suits them. But when they feel they’re good and ready to challenge us, to dominate the East and to swing the balance of power their way…that’s when you’ll see the real face of China. Trust me.”
“Well, what do you plan to do about that?”
“I plan to stop that global expansion dead in its tracks. I want that damned great Navy of theirs back in the China Seas.”
“But how do we do that without starting a shooting war?”
“Sir, how do we keep our own global presence? How do we keep our own Navy roaming the world’s oceans making sure no one steps out of line? Right here the world enjoys
“And we do it by ensuring we have a succession of U.S. bases all over the place…in the Pacific Ocean, the Indian Ocean, in the Japanese Islands, with our buddies from London in the Atlantic. That’s the only way. A chain of supplies and allies. That’s what China does not have. Yet. Except for one place. Burma.”
“You mean that new base of theirs in the swamps west of Rangoon?”
“That’s the one, sir. The one on the island in the Bassein River. It’s huge. Massive facilities for servicing and refueling warships of all sizes, including submarines. The Chinese once dominated the entire Indian Ocean and my instinct is they want to do so again, because that would give ’em control of the main eastbound oil route through the Malacca Strait. Right now that narrow, shallow freeway, with its goddamned granite bottom, is just too far from China to allow them any influence over its tanker traffic.”
“Well, how do you propose to discourage them from using their new Burmese base?”
Arnold Morgan smiled. “Not too hasty right now, sir. We got bigger problems. But if you’ve got any shares in China’s Naval operation on Haing Gyi Island in the Bassein River…sell.”
4
By the start of the final half hour of the midnight watch, Lt. Commander Headley was already mobile, moving quietly through the 30-year-old, 5,000-ton nuclear boat, a half hour before he was due to take over the control room from Commander Reid.
He had already been down to the main propulsion room where Lt. Commander Paul Flynn was watching a very minor seal leak on the main shaft. Right now the pumps were operating efficiently and dealing with the incoming fine spray with relative ease.
“Damn thing wouldn’t want to get any worse, though,” said the dark-haired engineering officer from south Boston. “Still, the rest of the stuff’s looking good — reactor’s smooth, shaft’s steady. At twenty-nine knots she feels like she’s cruisin’. No problems, sir.”
Dan Headley made his way up to the Navigation Officer’s corner of the ops room. He had only just met young Lt. Shawn Pearson, but he knew he had been rescued with the crew of
“Hi, Shawn,” he said, leaning on the big table and staring down at the chart. “What are we? ’Bout seven hundred nor’nor-west of DG?”
“Accurate, sir. Accurate. I like that in an XO…gives me confidence…. I just sent for coffee. Want some,
