A pair of Spearhead-class expeditionary fast transports or EPFs, militarized high-speed ferries, would deliver additional air defense units, coastal defense cruise missiles, surveillance radar, and other support elements to establish an Expeditionary Advanced Base. Finally, a pair of U.S. Air Force Rapid Raptor packages would be airborne, waiting to swoop into the freshly seized airfield to begin offensive operations against neighboring Chinese installations.

At the same time, another division of LCSs with marines and special forces embarked would assault or raid the Chinese positions at Cuarteron Reef. A set of unmanned surface vessels and drones were already underway, flooding the area immediately surrounding the South China Sea with false signals to confuse Chinese targeting efforts.    

The mission’s most daring element, however, was its conspicuous lack of major fleet units. Because of the required transit speeds and the detectability of their high-powered Spy radars, American commanders had elected to leave their most potent ships, the Arleigh Burke destroyers and Ticonderoga cruisers, behind. Those units would remain west of the Philippines or in the Celebes Sea to give the Chinese the impression the American fleet was hesitant to push back into the South China Sea. This left the undergunned LCSs exposed to Chinese missiles with only electronic countermeasures and short-range Rolling Airframe Missiles for self-defense.

Celebes Sea approximately 300 miles south southeast of Davao, The Phillipines – 0032 Local

Hassan felt Mashu’s wake nudge Omaha’s bow to starboard as he approached the oiler’s stern. The seas were glassy. The beautiful scene, a full moon reflecting from the ocean’s surface, made for ideal weather for submarines hunting surface ships, although the Chinese had shown no inclination to push their subs out this far. Hassan pushed the thought from his mind and angled his waterjets toward the oiler, forcing Omaha onto a course paralleling the larger ship while Captain Dewitt shouted ranges from the bridge wing. Seconds later, the XO said curtly, “Cut it,” and Hassan reduced power as Omaha settled into position alongside. A line was passed between them to allow the ships to easily measure distance. Normally strung with disposable chemlights, the ships were instead supposed to remain darkened, so distances were relayed via sound-powered telephone. The heavy metal spanwire was hauled over and connected, allowing Mashu’s refueling rig to slide into a bell-shaped receptacle on Omaha’s port side.

Hassan could hear the exchange between the Engineering Officer of the Watch, seated behind him, and the captain culminating with the order to “commence pumping.” It required all his concentration to hold Omaha alongside the Japanese ship. He spent the next 20 minutes silently praying the combinators wouldn’t lock while the ships were this close together. By the time the order “cease pumping” was relayed, he was drenched in sweat and his left hand was cramping on the combinator handle.

As the lines from Mashu dropped clear, he pushed the combinator handle forward. The division “flagship,” Omaha had refueled last and now, free of the oiler, she surged forward, gradually increasing speed to 40 knots as her three sisters and the two EPFs fell in astern, heading northwest in a loose column toward the gap between Tapaan and Maningkulat Islands.

Hassan’s relief, Lt. j.g. Marilyn Starnes, the ship’s Auxiliaries Officer, came up to the bridge a few minutes later and began preparing for watch turnover. Starnes gathered information from Dunleavy, including the ship’s course, speed, and maneuvering intentions for the next few hours while Hassan remained “eyes up,” scanning the horizon for surface contacts. Once ready, Marilyn requested the Captain’s permission to relieve and then allowed Hassan to stand and step away from his chair. He was too tired to apologize for how sweaty he’d left the seat.

Hassan headed below to the messdecks, joining a line of sweaty sailors who had just left their replenishment stations. The marines, mercifully, were eating MREs in the mission bay, so as not to overwhelm the small crew manning Omaha’s galley. Mike Dunleavy joined him in line a few minutes later and the XO showed up shortly, as well. The two junior officers occupied a table in the corner of the messdecks and tried to hide their disappointment when the XO sat down heavily at the next table over.

The XO looked pointedly at them, “You two need to rack out after this. I don’t care what other obligations you think you have. We go to GQ in 16 hours and we’ll be there until we’re pierside or at the bottom.”

The two juniors looked at each other, half-eaten grilled cheese sandwiches hanging from their hands. Finally, Hassan turned back to the XO. “Are we going to make it, sir?” Commander Dennis regarded his young officer, “I think we’ll get in … but the mission isn’t always to come home.”

South China Sea, 200 nautical miles southeast of Fiery Cross Reef, 1800 Local

Hassan had been lying awake in his rack for an hour when the alarm sounded to bring Omaha to General Quarters or ‘GQ’, her highest condition of readiness. He’d slept in his flash hood and had his gloves tucked into his pocket. Just before he reached his battle station on the ship’s bridge, he found a Chief passing out new additions to his wardrobe, lightweight body armor, a small life preserver that clipped around his waist, and a Kevlar helmet. He took a minute to tighten the body armor and briefly considered the inflatable yellow life preserver, light and packed small enough in its navy blue pouch that it fit in his hand and wondered if the buoyancy would be enough to overcome the weight of the body armor if he went into the water.

He found Mike Dunleavy already in the left-hand seat and started gathering information. The ship’s electronic warfare specialists were reporting jamming by both sides. The Chinese had multiple surface and airborne radars flooding the South China Sea searching for Americans, but thus far the combination of jamming support and the NEMESIS system meant SurfDiv 11 was undetected. Montgomery would soon add another element for the Chinese to consider: the nondescript boxes she’d onloaded earlier had transformed into a series of launchers spread over the flight deck. Loaded into the launchers were the drones comprising the LOCUST system. The Low-Cost UAV Swarming Technology would release a swarm of autonomous drones to confuse Chinese radars at the four air defense batteries on Fiery Cross Island’s periphery, buying the LCS, the Vipers, and anyone else approaching the islands additional time to pull within weapons release range.

Hassan looked down at the closed circuit camera showing the flight deck, now a hive of activity as marines and sailors worked together to prep the Vipers for launch. The nervous energy permeating the ship didn’t come as a surprise. Even Omaha’s seasoned Chief Petty Officers, most of whom had at least 18 years’ experience, were being forced to confront their first combat experience.

South China Sea, 80 nautical miles southeast of Fiery Cross Reef, 2100 Local

The lookout’s voice crackled over the radio, “Bridge, Starboard lookout. I have a … a glow on the horizon … 050 relative.”

Hassan was “eyes up” while Mike Dunleavy studied the navigation display and he swiveled his head to the right. The XO stood near the captain’s chair. He and the captain paused to look to the horizon. The XO, thumbs hooked into his body armor, said “Tomahawks going in…” just loud enough for the rest of the bridge to hear. The glow continued moving from right to left, racing towards Fiery Cross Reef.

The Captain looked down at his watch. “Right on time…”

Omaha was at flight quarters, preparing to launch her three Vipers. The first was spotted in the center of the deck aft. Her takeoff would be aided by more than 50 knots of relative wind sweeping across the deck as the ship maintained 40 knots. After running through the checklist and getting the Captain’s permission, Mike Dunleavy announced ‘green deck’ into his mic and the two of them heard the noise of Stinger 21’s rotor blades as she swept past. The flight deck crew was already moving to spot the second helo for launch. Stinger 22 and Stinger 23 were both in the air in less than 5 minutes. The three-plane formation did a quick pass over the flagship, joined the helicopters just launched from Jackson and formed a loose line abreast, skimming the wavetops to avoid the Chinese radar that would hopefully be knocked offline by the Tomahawks.

Hassan had to keep his eyes forward to avoid being distracted by the barrage of signal lights being directed toward Omaha. The need to conduct this attack in silence had almost overwhelmed the Navy, which had disestablished its Signalman rating in 2004. The ability to communicate without electronic means was now in high demand, so the Americans had embarked Australian, Japanese, and even British yeomen who had flown around the world to join the fight as silent communicators. American quartermasters, theoretically proficient in Morse code and signaling protocol, were receiving a crash course from masters as the ship COs finalized details of the assault that normally would have been communicated via naval message or e-mail.