So as Ryson made his way to the front of the half-hostile crowd, he knew he had his job cut out for him. “Good morning … By now you know we’re prepping for a very important mission. Please allow me to remind you that it is top secret, and do not share any of what you are about to hear with anyone other than your XOs.
“At 1500 hours this afternoon a ferry loaded with Australian commandos and their vehicles will depart Manado bay, and proceed north to carry out a highly classified raid.
“All four of the Australian boats will depart as well, traveling separately and in pairs, to convey the impression that they are on patrol. Later in the day the Armindales will meet the commandos after their raid has taken place, take them off a beach, and bring them here.
“Meanwhile the PHMs will continue to carry out their regular duties. Lieutenant Commander Vos will be in command. When this meeting is over, I will meet with the Armindale captains to discuss tactics. Do you have any questions?”
Arms shot up. One of them belonged to the Nimbus’s skipper, Lieutenant Commander Marlo Moreno, who described herself as “loud and proud.” Ryson pointed to her. “Yes, Marlo.”
“Why are you taking all of the Armindales, and none of the Pegs?”
The truth was that Ryson had a secret bias in favor the PHMs, due to their speed and the fact that they were armed with Harpoon missiles. But, after studying the matter, he ‘d been forced to conclude that the Australian boats were better suited for the mission at hand.
“Without diving into the classified details,” Ryson said, “I can tell you this. The Pegs have a range of 1,380 miles. And the Armindales have a range of 3,452 miles.
“Plus, each Armindale can accommodate twenty passengers, each carries two RIB boats, and each has stern mounted ladders. That will make it easier to board the commandos—especially if some are wounded. Does that answer your question?”
Moreno could read between the lines. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the objective was a long way off. And the Aussie boats were bigger. Bigger and slower, Moreno thought to herself. But she knew better than to say that. “Sir, yes sir. Thank you.”
After the PHM officers left, Ryson sat down and invited the Australians to do likewise. They included Vos’s XO, Andy Tyson, who would command the HMAS Perth.
Then there was the HMS Kalbarri’s skipper LT. Carl (Foxy) Fox who, according to the rumors Ryson had heard, was very popular with the ladies.
Ryson had already been to sea with the HMAS Eucia’s boyish Captain, LT. James (Jim) Atworthy, as well as the HMAS Rockhampton’s commanding officer Mike Christian, an officer known for his pranks.
During the next hour the group reviewed all sorts of things, including the need to triage wounded commandos on the beach, and put the most serious cases on Eucia, which would have a doctor on board.
Then there was the matter of rations. There would be extra mouths to feed on the journey home. Towing rigs would need to be ready just in case. Extra loads for the RPGs and missile launchers would be required too. Along with additional ammo for the Armindales’ M242 Bushmaster autocannons. It went on and on.
Finally, at about 1000 Ryson returned to the Agger where he took a three hour nap. Then it was time to get up, shave, shower, and get dressed. His personals and a change of underwear went into a black AWOL bag. There was just enough time to hustle down to the cafeteria style restaurant on Agger’s Promenade deck and gulp three cups of coffee while eating a French dip sandwich.
From there it was a short trip down to the landing stage where Master Chief Jensen and a RIB boat were waiting. She saluted. “Good afternoon, sir. Which boat do you want to travel on?”
“The Rockhampton, please.”
Jensen gave the information to the coxswain and spoke into a handheld radio. Ryson eyed the sky as the boat bounced through a light chop. The sun was hidden behind a layer of clouds. And that was a good thing. The less the enemy could see the better.
The Rockhampton was moored under the Manado Marine Terminal with the rest of Squadron 7’s boats. Thanks to an advance warning from Jensen, Lieutenant Commander Christian was waiting to greet Ryson as he came aboard. The Aussie had brown eyes, dark skin, and a ready smile. The open palm slaute was rendered British style. Ryson delivered an American salute in return and the men shook hands. “I’m glad you chose the Rockhampton, sir. You’ll be happy to know she’s faster than the other Armindales.”
Ryson frowned. “Really? How much faster?”
“Three-miles-per-hour, sir.”
Ryson laughed. “The enemy has no idea what they’re up against.”
The conversation was interrupted as a sailor appeared. “Excuse me, sir. The ferry is getting underway.”
Christian nodded. “Thank you, Smitty.”
Ryson thought about the ferry and the woman in command of it. After negotiations between Admiral Nathan and George Parker, a contract had been agreed to. The Setiawati would be sacrificed. And the Austrailian government would pay Parker Marine $900,000 American.
But while the ferry could be replaced, Kelsey Parker couldn’t, and Ryson hoped to keep her safe.
***
Aboard the ferry Setiawati
As the ferry departed Manado’s harbor, and made her way out to sea, Greer was leaning on a wooden rail watching the city dwindle in the distance. The rescue mission was underway. And that was good. But there were plenty of unknowns. Were the pilots still in the same prison? Dalisay’s sources said, “Yes.” But what if they were wrong?
And how would the raid go? The prison was an hour’s drive from the commandos’ landing point. Of course they would be traveling in British-made Simba personnel carriers, identical to those used by the Phillipine army. And the troop trucks bore Phillipine army insignia as well. So that would be helpful.
But what about the return trip? The
