Joint Operations

By the time he made it into Base Ops, Tomboy had already filled out their next of kin cards and added their names to the manifest. She tossed him his cranial and floatation vest, then pointed toward the waiting COD. “Two minutes. Let’s get our asses in gear.” They pulled on the safety gears as they ran for the turbo-propped transport aircraft.

The aircraft was just over half full. An enlisted aircrewman directed them to seats in the middle of the aircraft, then trotted back down the ramp to check for any more late arrivals. He was back within moments. He slipped his headset on, and Tombstone saw his lips moving as he talked to the aircrew up front. The ramp that served as a boarding ladder pulled up and joined with the fuselage of the aircraft. The passenger compartment was plunged into darkness broken only by the feeble overhead bulbs few and far between.

Tombstone glanced over at Tomboy and saw her shut her eyes for a moment. She was a RIO, a backseater, used to having someone else doing the driving, although he thought she probably did understand just how much he hated being a passenger on any aircraft.

He’d been a passenger far too often in the last year, he decided. Enough was enough.

“Listen up, please. Magruder?” an enlisted sailor standing in the aisle shouted. “Magruder?”

“Which one?” Tombstone asked.

“Oh, there are two of you, sir,” the sailor said. “I thought it was just a mistake.”

“There are two,” Tombstone agreed.

“And you’re both billeted onboard Jefferson?” the sailor asked.

“She is,” Tombstone said, pointing at Tomboy.

“And you, sir? Because right here — sir, I’m sorry, but if you’re not assigned to the ship, I need to put someone in that seat who is. Mission essential only, it says. Sir.” The sailor was clearly not comfortable making his point to the admiral, but he stood his ground.

Not mission essential. Tombstone stood and coldly stalked off the aircraft. As soon as he’d cleared the flight deck, he pulled out his cell phone. They’d just see who was not mission essential in this Navy.

FOUR

The Chief of Naval Operations

Washington, D.C.

1216 local (GMT –5)

Admiral Thomas Magruder had just finished a hard-fought battle of racquetball when the news first reached Washington D.C. His aide, Lieutenant Commander Henry Williams, tracked his boss down in the shower.

“Admiral! The Chinese have just attacked Pearl Harbor!” Williams was already rustling up towels, making sure his boss’s clothes were ready to go as he briefed the CNO. “Evidently three vessels masquerading as merchant ships were actually configured as warships. From all we can tell right now, they launched a missile attack on the harbor followed by a wave of jump jets.”

All around the shower area, Williams could hear the water being turned off. Almost every person in that room had the need to know, and he didn’t hesitate to continue his brief that inadvertently encompassed a number of other officers.

“I have Rear Admiral Magruder on cell phone, sir,” Williams continued. “And the National Command Authority on line two.”

Admiral Magruder poked his head out from the shower, then reached out to grab the cell phone. “Stony?”

“I’m here, sir.”

“What happened?” the senior Magruder demanded.

“As far as I can tell, a missile attack on Pearl Harbor. I’ve been seeing something that looks like a Chinese carrier off the coast for the last hour.”

“My aide said something about civilian vessels — is that what you saw?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that, sir,” his nephew said. “Tomboy and I were having dinner and observed missile launches from aircraft, but I couldn’t determine their point of origin.”

The CNO held his cell phone trapped between his shoulder and his ear as he tried to shuffle on his clothes as best he could. All around him, other senior officers were doing the same dance. “Who is there with you?”

“Tomboy caught a hop back out to Jefferson,” his nephew said. “I’m at the officers’ club — looks like a lot of us are stranded here for one reason or another. The Air Force is sorting out transportation arrangements as I speak.” The elder Magruder could hear a loudspeaker announcement in the background, but couldn’t make out the details.

The CNO took a deep breath, mentally shifting gears as he slipped his shirt on. “Okay, Stony. Here’s what I want you to do. I’ll formalize later, but we need to get this ball rolling. Jefferson is in the area, but she’s going to need some help. Check around, see who is in the same situation you are. Pick out the good ones and put together a battle staff. Draw from all the services — make sure you get some excellent logistics people from both the Marines and the Air Force. I have a prepositioned assets ship somewhere in the area that I can divert to you, but you’ll need knowledgeable people to get it offloaded and mobilized. And people — you’ll need people. Have your experts working on ways to get Marine troops out to you.”

“Aye-aye, sir. I understand.”

“Anything you need, Stony, you let my office know. My God, an attack on American soil — I don’t need to tell you how desperate this situation is. We’re not prepared for this — we never have been. Every other asset I’ve got is deployed overseas, at least three weeks at flank speed away. And if they’ve got air superiority, there’s no way we’ll get assets in by CRAF. For now, it’s Jefferson and whatever other assets you can rustle up there.”

Lieutenant Commander Williams tapped the CNO on the shoulder. “Sir? I’m getting reports from intelligence that the Chinese have captured the main communications facility in Hawaii. As well as third fleet and seventh fleet commanders and their staffs. Evidently they were there for a planning conference.”

The senior Magruder closed his eyes and groaned. Adrenaline pounded through his veins and if there’s one thing he knew, it was that he would need it. “Do we have special forces in the area?” he asked.

Lieutenant Commander Williams nodded. “SEAL Team Seven, Squad Two. According to the CIA, they’re deployed in the mountains on Hawaii for an international exercise. They’re already talking to them and they’ve got orders to retake the comm center first. After that, well…” The aide fell silent, knowing that “after that” was far above his pay grade.

“Okay, okay, at least that’s something,” the senior Magruder murmured. “Murdoch, right? Of course it is — Don Stroh would know about this before anyone. Stony, you still there?”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“This line isn’t secure,” the elder Magruder said carefully. “So I can’t give you all the details. And from the sounds of it, we won’t have secure communications until you get back to Jefferson — you understand that?”

“I do, sir.”

“This pick-up team of yours — keep a sharp eye out for special forces and intelligence people, particularly those working with civilian agencies. You know who I’m talking about using, I suspect. When you get to Jefferson, establish contact with them. Got it?” the CNO asked.

“Understood, sir.”

“Very well.” The CNO hesitated for a moment as the enormity of the situation overwhelmed him. By now he was dressed, headed out from the shower room. Williams had picked up the CNO’s racquetball racket and exercise togs and was dutifully stuffing them into the Admiral’s gym bag as he trotted along behind.

As the CNO headed for his office, with Tombstone still on the other end of the cell phone, the corridors exploded into action. People usually walked briskly down the corridors, carrying with them a sense of self- importance in the urgency that affected every detail of duty at the Pentagon. Now, however, everyone was running. Civil servants, the longtime experts who constituted the corporate memory of the Pentagon, were staying close to