“Yes sir,” Ryson replied. “But that, in my judgement, is what it’s going to take.”
“All right,” Nathan replied. “You want your own island. Justify that.”
Ryson was ready. “Yes, sir. As things stand now, we’re too far away from the enemy. Half of each patrol is spent traveling north into enemy waters and returning to base.
“You mentioned the Chinese base on Mischief Reef in the Spratlys. I want to establish an FOB (forward operating base) on one of the islands south and west of there.
“So, if we learn that the Sea Dragon is steaming south from Hainan island for example, we would be able to quickly intercept her. Slow her down if you will, and call for help.”
“That makes sense,” Nathan said grudgingly. “And, if you get approval for the island, you’ll need all the rest of it. A supply ship, a C-RAM system on a barge, and a land-based air defense system. To protect your supply ship and patrol boats. Did I miss anything?”
Actually, he had. The squadron would need an oiler too. But Ryson sensed it would be best to ignore that requirement for the moment. “No, sir. I think that pretty well covers it.”
“All right then,” Nathan said. “I will take your proposal to General Haskell along with a wild estimate of how much it would cost. In the meantime, keep on keeping on. I’ll get back to you when I have an answer.”
Ryson knew a dismissal when he heard one. He stood. “Sir, yes sir.” The meeting was over.
The rest of the day was spent on the minutiae of command: requests for supplies, fitness reports, three disciplinary actions, a pissing match between two skippers, the need to motivate a recalcitrant dockyard crew, an emergency leave for an engineman on the Arcus, and the need to take part in a promotion celebration. It was being held at a waterfront tavern, and that’s where the Australians found him. The Australians being an army captain and a lieutenant. “Sorry, to crash the party sir,” the captain said. “My name is Dancy. And this is Lieutenant Kapoor.”
Dancy was wearing a green beret, and looked like the rugby player that he probably was. Kapoor was a Sikh. And the camo pattern on his turban matched his uniform. His parachute wings were sewn on.
Ryson glanced from Dancy to Kapoor and back again. “Don’t tell me, let me guess: Special ops.”
“Yes, sir,” Dancy replied. “The 2nd Commando Regiment to be exact. We’d like to have a chat if that’s possible.”
“Of course,” Ryson said. “We can step outside if you like.”
“Sorry, sir, but that won’t work. With your permission we’ll take you to the other side of the harbor where our chaps are prepping for an ocean cruise.”
Ryson sighed. It was already 1930 and he was functioning on a couple hours of sleep. “Alright, if that’s how it has to be. Give me a moment.”
Ryson went over to congratulate the newly made E-6, before handing command off to his XO, Lieutenant Commander Linda Vos. “You’re in charge Linda. Your people want me to attend some sort of meeting.”
Vos eyed the army officers. “Yes, sir. Be careful what you agree to. Those blokes are batshit crazy.”
Ryson laughed. “Will do. I have my radio. Call me if the Sea Dragon enters the harbor.”
“Count on it,” Vos replied, and turned away.
The army officers led Ryson outside. A dark green Land Rover was waiting at the curb. Ryson sat in the back next to Dancy. The ten-minute drive took them along the waterfront to a dilapidated warehouse. The driver honked and a much-abused steel door rolled out of the way. The SUV then entered the building. Ceiling mounted lights threw pools of light down onto oil-stained concrete. Ryson could see men moving about, vehicles parked to one side, and piles of equipment.
The Aussies got out and Ryson did likewise. Together they made their way over to a door marked “Manager.” It opened into a large office. And there, seated at a long wooden table, were Admiral Nathan, Kelsey Parker and two strangers. “They found you,” Nathan said. “Well, done. Sorry I couldn’t brief you this morning, but we were still putting the pieces together, and waiting for a green light. You know Kelsey. The man sitting opposite me is Lieutenant Commander Greer—the pilot your people pulled out of the drink—and a very resourceful man.”
Greer stood and came around to shake hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir … And thanks for saving my ass. This is Roberto Dalisay. He leads the Filipino resistance movement. Without the resistance I’d be sitting in a prison cell waiting for a trip to China.”
Ryson shook hands with Dalisay as Nathan nodded approvingly. “That’s right. And thanks to the underground we have an opportunity to rescue three American pilots. Believe it or not Commander Greer was able to enter the prison where the POWs are being held and take photos!
“But time is of the essence,” Nathan added. “The Chinese want to put the pilots on trial in Beijing. And President Costas agreed to give them up. That’s where Dancy and Kapoor come in. They’re going to lead the rescue.
“We considered using helicopters,” Nathan said. “But they would have to refuel in both directions. And there’s no secure place to do that. So, we decided on a ship. But what ship? Now, thanks to Kelsey here, that piece of the puzzle has fallen into place.”
“And the ship is?”
“A roll on/roll off ferry named the Setiawati,” Nathan replied.
“It means loyal and faithful,” Parker explained. “She looks like hundreds of other interisland ferries, her engines are in good shape, and she can transport both the commandos and their vehicles.”
Nathan gestured toward some empty seats. “Please join us.”
The commandos chose chairs and Ryson wound up next to Parker. Her perfume was distracting. “So, how does Squadron 7 fit in?”
“Seven will provide
