deep-water channel right here, and we head on up to this can with the flashing light, okay? We then move up here for four more miles to this buoy with the flasher, right at the start of the natural deep-water channel leading right into the base…we’ll see it easily. Now that’s all clear, right?”
The SEALs all nodded in the affirmative, and Rick carried on. “At this point right here, a half mile off the jetties, we exit the ASDV, Catfish, Mike, Buster and myself. We carry in four sticky limpets and place them on the underside of the hulls of the two Chinese warships that are moored alongside…there’s a six-thousand-ton Luhai- Class destroyer right here in the photograph.
“It’s five hundred feet long and fifty-four feet wide, twin shafts and a lot of guided missiles, and torpedoes. Right next to it is a much smaller ship, a two-thousand-ton Jangwei II frigate, only three hundred sixty feet long. But it’s fast and it carries a lot of antisubmarine mortars. Gentlemen, I assure you it’s in our best interests to get rid of it very thoroughly. Both these ships carry helicopters, and it would be nice to somehow have them tip into the harbor.”
“
“No, we’re getting back in. The insert wants to be in a much more lonely place, and it’s too far back down the channel. We’re hitchin’ a ride.”
Commander Hunter then confirmed the landing site, a point less than one mile south of the jetties, behind a half-mile-long navigational hazard marked on the chart as Wolf Rock. “We’ll all get out right there, about five hundred yards offshore; one hundred fifty of those yards are marked as a marshy area with a lot of vegetation. We’ll walk through there, and when we hit the beach we’re gonna be only a half mile from the dockyard fence. It’s gonna be dark, desolate and without military guards. The first place we meet people will be the guardhouse, and there’re only two people in it — one engineer and one Navy patrol guard. That’s all. You know what to do.”
From that point on, Commander Hunter talked quickly through the well-documented plan. Everyone knew it by heart. This was just a brief refresher before departure, one final look at the campaign map. One final look, perhaps, into the face of death. They were frightened, as Special Forces must always be a little frightened. But no one flinched.
At 1855 the SEALs began to embark the ASDV, climbing up through
Lieutenant Dave Mills was already at the controls, seated next to his sonar operator/navigator, Lt. Matt Longo, upon whose brain would fall the task of locating the secret Chinese channel into the harbor. And one by one the SEALs moved into position, the five rookies from Coronado, then the veteran combat SEALs Catfish, Bobby, Rattlesnake, Buster, and Chief Petty Officer Mike Hook, followed by Lt. MacPherson who slipped expertly up through the gap, and took his place next to Bobby Allensworth.
Last of all came Commander Rick Hunter, who was talking to Dan Headley in the small area below the dry hatch.
“Guess this is it, ole buddy,” said the huge SEAL leader. “Don’t forget your promise. You’re gonna get us out of there no matter what.”
“We’ll get you out. The boats are coming in to RV Two one hour before you need them. They’ll be transmitting every thirty seconds as from zero-two-four-five. Two single beeps right on your frequency…Good luck, Ricky…it’s gonna be fine…but for Christ’s sake, be careful.”
They shook hands, formally, unsmiling; nodded curtly one to the other, and then parted. Lieutenant Commander Headley going back to the control room. The SEAL chief climbing up into the little submarine.
Immediately the hatches were closed tight and clipped. And Rick Hunter’s team all heard the sudden rush of water as the departure crew outside flooded down the shelter. They could hear the metallic thuds in the water beyond the hull as the ASDV came free of its steel lines. Six hefty frogmen began to heave it forward on its tracks, away from the mother ship. They waited for 10 minutes, riding free in the water, for the deck shelter to close, and for the outside crew to rejoin the
Then they saw Lt. Mills switch on the electric motor, and the ASDV swung right, onto its course one-two- zero, creeping now at its maximum speed of six knots toward the tiny Burmese island of Thamihla, and the deep- water channel they hoped to God they would find. Because if they did not find it, they knew they would have to postpone, until someone did find it, because these orders came from On High. Really High. And most of the SEALs preferred to get this thing done right now.
Inside the ASDV it was dry, but as they traveled it grew colder. There was no heat in this vehicle, but the SEALs were warm in their superbly insulated Navy wet suits. They could talk if they wished, but water magnifies all sound, and SEALs are trained to say nothing unnecessary on a combat mission. Thus there was hardly a word spoken for the first two hours. Not since Lt. MacPherson had mentioned, as they flooded down the shelter, that he usually charged a lot of money for his “world-famous imitation of a fucking goldfish.”
All journeys in an ASDV seem to take forever. They travel blind, instruments only, and the passengers can see nothing. The submarine is dark, except for the light cast from the orange-colored screens on the control panels, and that left each of these highly trained assault troops with nothing to do except think about their tasks on this night.
Sometimes it was possible to see a couple of particular friends, like Bobby and Mike Hook, catch each other’s eye, and perhaps smile. But it signified only that they were aware of the other’s thoughts, and the colossal dangers they were facing, and the possibility that one of them, or perhaps even both, might not make it back. SEALs only think such private thoughts. They never say them.
And so the little submarine pressed on forward, 40 feet below the surface all the way. After two hours and 15 minutes they slid up to PD, and Dave Mills sent up the mast. Seven seconds later they went back down to 25 feet, and Matt Longo said quietly, “We’re getting into the area, guys. I got us at fifteen fifty-one north and ninety-four fifteen east on GPS. Right now I’m searching for the channel.”
All the SEALs knew now precisely where they were. Hours of study had committed that chart indelibly to their memories. They were in only 36 feet of water, but they were headed for a shoal over which there were only 15 feet in some places, which would put them damn close either to the surface or on the bottom.
Everyone, involuntarily, held their breath as Lt. Mills eased the ASDV along the southern edge of the shoal. They could hear the tiny click of the sounder, testing the seabed.
Lieutenant Longo’s monologue never stopped…. “
Lieutenant Mills: “
Longo: “
Five minutes and 300 yards later the ASDV was in 50 feet of water, right in the trench northwest of Thamihla. The Chinese had dredged precisely where the engineers in Coronado had said they would. And Dave Mills again brought the ASDV to periscope depth. Right in front of him the mast slid upward, and he peered through the viewfinder, ranging right, from dead ahead to zero-four-zero. There it was, about a mile off their starboard bow, the light flashing every two seconds on the red can they had imagined so often on the chart.
“That Longo. Clever little prick, right?” Lieutenant MacPherson whispered it just loudly enough for the Navigator not to hear.
“Shut up, Dallas,” hissed Rick Hunter. “I’d like to see you doing what he’s doing.”
“Me? Sir, you must be joking. How many times do I need to tell you? I can do it all.”
“As a navigator you’d probably hit it all.”
There was a lot of stifled laughter, which defused some of the tension but not all of it. And the ASDV crept forward through the dark narrow channel, its only “eyes” an occasional look through the periscope. It took them another 40 minutes to move all the way to the north end of the dredged channel, and right at the entrance to the natural deep water they spotted a patrol boat through the periscope.
And it was coming straight toward them, the unmistakable Hainan Type 037 fast-attack patrol boat, heavily gunned, with a phalanx of ASW mortars. This ship is the coastal warhorse of the Chinese Navy. They have a
