get ready to break!” But Borillo panicked. With a missile launch off the front quarter, the best defense was to point the fighter’s nose at the missiles, presenting the smallest possible radar cross-section, then jink away from them at the last possible moment. Young Borillo did exactly the wrong thing-he heard the word “Break” and started a hard right turn away from the oncoming missiles at 90 degrees of bank. With the full outline of the big F-4E presented belly-out toward the missile and its tracking radar, it was an easy target. Fuentes tried to wrestle the control stick back over to the left, but he was far too late-one of the Hong Lung’s HQ-91 missiles, a copy of the Soviet Union’s advanced 5A-I1 antiaircraft missile, hit Borillo’s fighter and instantly turned it into a huge fireball. Tamalko never got a verbal warning from his backse~teryoung Pilas was too scared or had the volume turned down on his threat- warning receiver, Tamalko didn’t know-but when the “Missile Launch” warning sounded he promptly forgot about trying to contact Cavite and looked up to see the second HQ-91 missile streak past him, less than a hundred feet behind. He banked right, toward the threat indications, just in time to see the first missile destroy his wingman. Pilas was screaming in the backseat as the shock wave from the explosion crashed over them. Tamalko tried to ignore the screaming as he pushed his fighter down in a six-thousand-foot per-minute descent, yanking it level as he passed three hundred feet. “Shut up, Pilas-shut up!” Tamalko roared. The screaming finally ceased. “Borillo got hit! Christ, they’re shooting at us!” Pilas shouted. “I thought this was an exercise!”
“Well, it’s not a fucking exercise. Those are Chinese ships out there, and they’re attacking.” And then Tamalko realized that Borillo really did shoot down an attacking Chinese patrol plane-it was he who probably saved hundreds of lives on Rajah Lakandula. And since Pilas never warned him of the threat until after missile launch, Borillo also saved Tamalko by banking away from the missiles. Even though he screwed up most of the flight, the young pilot was a damned hero. “Give me a heading to that ship, ” Tamalko told Pilas. “We’re attacking.”
“Attacking? With guns? All we have are guns, sir “I know, I know, ” Tamalko said. He readjusted his heads- up display for air-to-ground strafing, resetting the depression angle on the HUD to 37 mils. “Where are the damned ships?” There was a slight pause, and Tamalko thought that Pilas was either not going to answer or was suffering a nervous breakdown. Then: “Radar contact, one o’clock, ten miles. Come right ten degrees. Target heading two-six- zero.” Tamalko made the turn and began pushing up the throttles in military power, saving afterburner thrust for the final few miles of his pass. … ABOARD THE CHINESE FLAGSHIP HONG LUNG “High-speed aircraft approaching Wenshan, sir, ” Captain Lubu reported. “Range sixteen kilometers. No contact on sec ond aircraft. Wenshan maneuvering to put his aft 57-millimeter guns on the target.”
“He’d better stop turning and start shooting, ” Admiral Yin said half-aloud. “If those planes are carrying Harpoon antiship missiles, he’s run out of time already.”
“Emergency message from Wenshan!” a radio operator called out. “They’ve run aground!”
“What?” Yin shouted. For the second time, the deep-draft patrol boat Wenshan had fallen victim to the shoal waters of the South China Sea-and the second time it had done so at a critical moment, while under attack from hostile Philippine forces. The image of the dragon drowning in the ocean rushed upon the Chinese Admiral once again-the battle, it seemed, always came to him…. “Wenshan is taking water, ” the radio operator reported. “They are requesting fire support and assistance. Casualties reported.”
“Range to that fighter?”
“Range to Wenshan, eight kilometers, ” the Combat technician reported. “Fighter still headed inbound. Passing eleven hundred kilometers per hour.”
“Sir, radar reports the second frigate has appeared over the horizon to the east, ” Captain Lubu reported. “Range thirty-two kilometers, closing slowly.” The Philippine ships were pressing the attack, Yin thought. So close to utter destruction, and now the mouse is turning to bite the nose of the tiger. “Order Fuzhou to intercept-“
“Sir, radar reports another contact off to the south, ” Lubu interrupted. “Range thirty-seven kilometers, approaching at medium speed. They appear to be helicopters, sir. Three helicopters approaching.”
“Missile-launch detection!” Combat reported. “Frigate to the east launching missiles, sir!” The battle was on in earnest. The reports were flooding past Admiral Yin almost faster than he could assimilate them. Faces glanced at him, some doubtful, others accusingly, most of them fearful. Voices were bombarding him, rising in intensity and volume-the racket was getting loud, almost deafening. . “Fighter closing to within five kilometers, sir, ” another report cut in. “Wenshan listing to starboard. Captain Han reports his stern is resting on the bottom and is unable to move… “Vessel to the south identified as PS-class corvette, ” Lubu reported. “There was a fifth ship out here, Admiral. The helicopter landing platform.. . it must have separated from the rest of the Philippine task force and maneuvered to our right flank…”
“Missile-launch detection! Corvette to the south launching missiles . “Radar contact, third vessel, identified as LF-class fire-support craft. “Shoal water dead ahead, three meters under the keel. Suggest hard starboard twenty degrees “Execute turn “Missile-launch detection! Helicopters launching missiles, sir!” “Chukou reports missile strike on the waterline, sir!” another report came. “No damage report. . . lost contact with Chukou…”
“Lost data link with Xingyi, sir. No reports yet. “LF-class fire-support vessel on suspected torpedo run, sir, ” Lubu shouted. “Range down to eighteen kilometers, speed thirty knots.. “Radar contact aircraft, range fifty-two kilometers, heading west at high speed, ” another report came. “Fighter aircraft from Puerto Princesa. ETA, five minutes.”
“Sir, ” Captain Lubu said, stopping and standing as close to Yin as he dared, “we are running out of maneuvering room, one patrol boat is grounded, and the other ships are scattering and disoriented-they are unable to defend themselves or defend the flagship. Recommend we reduce speed and provide fire-support coverage for our escorts. Once we are reorganized, we can steam out of the passage. . Yin appeared not to have heard him. Not four inches from Captain Lubu’s face, Yin was breathing heavily through his nose. Perspiration was running down the sides of his temples. His face was flushed, his brow furrowed, his mouth a tight line. It was as if he were not there, but instead somewhere else far, far away, thinking… about how there was no way out. … about his duty to protect his men, his ship. about saving face at all costs. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but was really less than fifteen seconds, Yin unbuttoned the top button of his tunic, reached inside, and withdrew a large silver key. Lubu’s mouth dropped open in surprise. His eyes grew wide as he realized what it was. “Sir… Admiral, you cannot f”
“We cannot be razed like this, Captain, ” Yin said calmly. “I will not suffer defeat at the hands of these people.” He inserted the key into a lock on a flat panel on the instrument console in front of his seat, waited as the door popped open. Inside the compartment was a red-colored telephone handset with communications cords and several unmarked buttons. Yin pressed the yellow button. A buzzer sounded around the entire ship. With Lubu looking on in absolute horror, men throughout the ship scrambled to prepare for an order that had never before been executed. . Admiral Yin picked up the red-handled phone within the unlocked compartment before him on the instrument console. “This is Admiral Yin, ” he said. “Command is Battle Cry. Battle Cry. Over.”
“Initial code verified, ” a voice on the other end of the line asked. “Targets, sir?”
“Target the southern corvette, turn, and target the eastern frigate, ” he said in a low voice. “Execute in three minutes, system automatic. Authentication is Red Moon. Repeat, Red Moon. Over.”
“Understood, sir. Authentication verified. Full connectivity check … received. Execution in three minutes . . . mark. System automatic engaged. Countdown hold in two minutes. Combat out.” Yin replaced the red phone in its cradle. A crewman dashed up to the two senior officers, carrying heavy gloves, a heavy black smock that resembled a thick poncho, and a heavy helmet with large gold protective eye goggles and a plastic face shield with respirator. Lubu accepted his but did not don it. “Admiral, I ask you to reconsider. We should receive authority from headquarters before attempting this Yin allowed the crewman to help him on with the leadimpregnated smock, placed the helmet on his head, connected the interphone cords and breathing apparatus, and rolled down his sleeves. Inside the helmet, he could hear the reports coming in to Lubu as each desk and each station reported its Red Moon status. “Admiral, you must stop this.. .” Lubu persisted. “Two minutes to Red Moon execution, ” the loudspeaker blared. “Two minutes to Red Moon execution. . . mark. All decks report ready.”
“My fleet is surrounded, we are under attack, we are in danger of losing the Spratly Islands and indeed most of the South China Sea to the Filipinos, ” Yin said through the respirator. His flashblindness goggles and oxygen mask made him look sinister, even deranged, like a sea monster from a horror movie. “I have the power to stop them. My only other choice is to surrender to them, and that I will never do.”
“But this will create a disaster of international proportions, ” Lubu argued. “We are too close to the Philippine shoreline. The water is too shallow-we will do irreparable harm to the coral reefs and the sea bottom in these
