The narrow passage on Fiery Cross Reef’s northeast corner was the only means of accessing the inner harbor. With a 104-feet-wide beam, only 30 feet less than a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier, the Independence-class LCSs would be forced to pass through the channel one at a time, followed by the EPFs. With the “landing force” embarked, Omaha and Jackson would be first through and make directly for the piers normally occupied by Chinese auxiliaries and dredgers. Gabrielle Giffords would follow. Her marine aircraft maintainers would fight as infantrymen until landing space could be secured for the Vipers. Montgomery would pass through last and remain in the basin providing supporting fire from marines manning heavy weapons on her flight deck and the ship’s 57 mm gun. All ships were instructed to enter the channel at maximum speed so their momentum would carry them forward and clear, even if damaged. The islands housed an assessed pre-war garrison of 1,000-strong, but long-range radars had detected regular flights from the Chinese mainland. Intelligence estimated most of those flights were fighters and maritime patrol aircraft, but no one knew what the estimate was based on given that American satellite coverage had been largely eliminated in the war’s early days.

South China Sea, 50 nautical miles southeast of Fiery Cross Reef, 2145 Local

The tension of several hours at General Quarters had steadily worn the crew down until the first trickles of information began coming in. While still 60 miles out, there were flashes visible, reflecting from the few high-level clouds. The bridge fell silent as each sailor realized these would be the Tomahawks and Air Force CALCMs impacting or being intercepted. Moments later, a light began blinking urgently from the EPF trailing the formation. The second EPF, USNS Choctaw County, had been fitted with a makeshift signals intelligence and electronic warfare suite mounted on her flight deck in a container.

The British yeoman read the message to the pilothouse seconds later. “Multiple surface-to-air missile launches detected. Radar emissions have stopped.”

Had the Chinese radars been eliminated or were they merely shut off to complicate targeting?

In another twenty minutes, more flashes. “Vipers engaging. At least one shot down. Enemy air search radar operating. Signal isn’t as strong as it was…”

South China Sea, 20 nautical miles southeast of Fiery Cross Reef, 2230 Local

The battle was visible now. While it was still unclear exactly what damage the Tomahawks and CALCMs had done, pillars of smoke rose into the air and fires burned from one end of the island to the other. The American missiles were supposed to target the four Chinese air defense complexes, the headquarters building and the concrete revetments that served as shelters for maritime patrol and fighter aircraft. Small, fast shadows periodically blocked the flames, letting the ships’ crews know at least some of the Vipers were still in the fight.

The ship’s Tactical Action Officer called up on the internal communications net, “Captain, TAO. We’re listening in on the Vipers’ radio frequency now. The channel is clear. Say again, the channel is clear.”

The TAO paused and background noise from Combat spilled over the speaker before an excited voice broke in: “VAMPIRE, VAMPIRE! VAMPIRE bearing 347, range 16 nautical miles!”

The bridge crew automatically peered into the smoke and flames at bearing 347, trying to spot the anti-ship cruise missile the Sea Giraffe radar had detected. “Got it,” said the XO, extending his arm. Just below the horizon, a flame burned, no more than a pinprick of light at this range. The British yeoman was already out on the bridge wing, frantically signaling the other ships in company.

“Looks like it’s headed for Montgomery, sir,” the TAO said, trying to affect a calmer tone. The ships had fanned out earlier and were proceeding in an approximate line abreast. Montgomery was four miles from Omaha’s starboard beam. As the pinprick on the horizon moved towards Montgomery, the entire bridge watched, rapt. Even Hassan, momentarily forgetting he was supposed to be “eyes up” watched the engagement unfold. Montgomery was heeled over in a hard turn to starboard, trying to unmask her missile launchers. When the missile was four miles out, flashes erupted from Montgomery, a pair of Rolling Airframe Missiles racing towards the inbound. One of the missiles wobbled almost immediately upon leaving the launcher, spiraled and then dove into the ocean just a few hundred yards forward of the ship. The remaining RAM closed one rapidly until it detonated yards away from the inbound. The Chinese missile shuddered, the flame of its rocket motor appeared to vibrate before impacting Montgomery’s bow seconds later.

The ship’s speed saved her. At 40 knots, an LCS “squats,” her stern sinking deeply and her bow elevating. The Chinese missile had impacted the ship’s bow right where the ship’s anchor was mounted, pushing the anchor back into the windlass room, killing a Bosun’s Mate and starting a fire. The missile fragmented when it struck the anchor. Its remnants punched through the aluminum deck on the foc’sle, directing shrapnel topside, but there were no crewmembers stationed there. The only other casualty besides the Bosun’s Mate was the starboard lookout, knocked down by a piece of shrapnel in her shoulder. Montgomery kept her speed on, slowing slightly due to her wrecked bow. Omaha signaled “Make best speed” as all ships anxiously scanned the horizon for more missiles.

South China Sea, 5 nautical miles southeast of Fiery Cross Reef, 2252 Local

Montgomery had fallen slightly astern of her sisters. The ship’s aluminum hull continued to burn where the missile had struck, fed by wind. There was nothing to be done. The division was too close to the enemy. The ship’s speed was generating enough wind to keep the smoke from obstructing the bridge crew. Omaha’s Captain had ordered a loose column formation now, with Omaha at its head, followed by Jackson 500 yards behind, Gabrielle Giffords astern of Jackson and the wounded Montgomery about 2000 yards behind Gabrielle Giffords. The two EPFs held their position 20 miles offshore, waiting to be told the pier had been secured so they could deliver their cargo. Hassan was grateful to be piloting the flagship, as her place at the head of the column meant he just needed to steer an ordered course rather than attempt to hold station on another ship.

The chaos at Fiery Cross was visible to the naked eye, but Hassan had no time to watch. He could see tracers, presumably attempting to engage the Vipers, reaching toward the sky and sometimes crossing his field of view. The ship’s Combat Information Center had reestablished communications with the Vipers. Three were still airborne, though low on fuel and out of ammunition. They had reported the channel was still clear and that one Chinese auxiliary was tied up at the pier on the north side of the basin. They continued to circle and draw fire from the island’s defenders. One had been shot down on approach, and one had been shot down immediately after destroying the cruise missile battery that had fired on Montgomery. A third had simply vanished.

Aboard all four ships, sailors and marines swarmed over the flight decks, setting up machine gun positions to engage targets ashore. Sailors manning the 57 mm guns and Hellfire missile consoles waited impatiently for targets.

The entrance to the harbor was on the island’s northeast corner. The division’s approach from the southeast meant Hassan would now lead the column in a looping turn. Keeping the other ships close would concentrate their firepower and minimize the amount of time the Chinese had to target ships in the narrow channel. Once in the basin, Hassan would keep his speed on until the last minute, relying on Omaha’s ability to stop almost instantaneously to moor safely.

The British yeoman passed the order for the other three ships to “close up,” decreasing the distance between them to 250 yards. At that distance, if Omaha slowed Jackson would have almost no opportunity to react, smashing into her stern. The XO stood behind Hassan again, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

At two miles out, the Captain moved to the starboard bridge wing and started feeding targets to his 57 mm and Hellfire gunners. There were a pair of Chinese machine gun nests on either side of the channel entrance. The 57 mm gun opened up on the one to the right and a pair of Hellfires demolished the nest to the left, a small figure briefly running around aflame afterward before falling and lying still, still burning.

Omaha charged towards the entrance, passing the remains of the fighting position as she proceeded up the short channel. On her port bow, a set of towers, shattered by American missiles, burned fiercely. The heat was palpable in the bridge and a gust of wind caused the Captain and yeoman, now on the port side to cringe slightly, distracting them from a pair of figures running around the base of the ruined structure. The Captain’s eyes went wide and he barely had time to yell “RPG” before the grenade detonated just above his head, killing him and the yeoman instantly and spraying a cone of shrapnel into the pilothouse. The blast was deafening and Hassan’s head snapped to the right as a metal shard buried itself in his Kevlar helmet. He heard Dunleavy grunt to his left and was vaguely aware of the XO down on the deck to his right. Two sailors on the flight deck with an M240 machine gun engaged the RPG team, tracer rounds reaching out before the Chinese could reload.