He skimmed it, then read it again. The text was short and simple, in Donchez’s trademark telegraphic style, all in capital letters MIKEY, URGENT YOU GET WHATEVER SUBS INTO OPAREA YOU CAN NO MATTER THE RISK. WARNER UP AGAINST FULL BLOWN MEDIA ATTACK. CONGRESS VOTING DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS TO PULL. PLUG ON ENLIGHTENED CURTAIN. SINK MSDF SUBS BY THEN OR WITHDRAW. WADSWORTH PROPOSES RELIEVING YOU IMMEDIATELY ON DEC 26 IF NO RESULTS. GET IN, ATTACK, GET OUT. GIVE WARNER SUNK DESTINYS SO HER NEGOTIATION WITH KURITA WILL GO IN OUR FAVOR. SHE MEETS KURITA REGARDLESS OF RESULT, SO KILL HIS FORCE. URGENT YOU COME HOME IN ONE PIECE. NEED TO TALK TO YOU ASAP. UNCLE DICK.
Pacino stared at the Writepad, then saved the message and pushed the Writepad aside. Warner had a prearranged meeting with Prime Minister Kurita. It wouldn’t matter if the entire US submarine force arrived on December 27, it would be too late. Modern warfare happened very fast, with information flowing almost faster than it could be generated. Twenty years before, Pacino might have been given two weeks or a month to get ready for the blockade. Look at how long the army had had to prepare for Desert Storm in Saudi Arabia, dragging equipment and men into the desert for six months before the shooting started with the Iraqis. Look at how long the air force had taken to set up for the bombing of Chah Bahar, Iran. Three weeks to assemble the bombers and plan the mission. The invasion of southern Iran had taken two months. But now the world political stage called for immediate victory. Battles were no longer exclusively in the hands of the generals and admirals, the politicians were deeply involved. And yet that wasn’t new… hadn’t Jimmy Carter tried to micromanage the failed Desert One rescue of American hostages in Iran? Hell, it went all the way back to World War I, the only obstacle to the commander in chief taking tactical command being his information-and-command systems.
In the past the speed of information flow had mostly limited the president to the back seat, the field commanders in wartime making the immediate decisions.
But now here he was taking rudder orders from the president when he should be given a free hand. He’d been unable to convince her to use the most elementary fighting tactic, the massing of force against the enemy.
Wadsworth hadn’t been helpful, and all Dick Donchez could do was tell him to follow his orders or he would be fired.
“We ready to reconnect?” Pacino asked the group.
They nodded. “Turn it back on.”
Pacino looked up at the screen. “Madam President, we’ll engage the MSDF submarines and report back in forty-eight hours.” “Good luck. Admiral,” Warner said, holding her palm up to Wadsworth, who obviously wanted to say something.
The connection was cut off at the other end, the presidential seal appearing, then the screen went blank.
“Cut it,” Kane said into a phone. “Go deep and flank it.”
The deck inclined, downward this time, to a steep ten degrees as the ship dived for the depths.
Pacino stared at the chart for a moment, then told Paully to present the plan one last time. Pacino barely listened, the plan rolling through his head at every waking moment. By the end of the presentation Kane and Pacino had no changes to make. The submarines would deploy as he’d indicated.
Comdr. Toshumi Tanaka flashed his fingers over the keyboard of the Second Captain console set up in his stateroom. The upper console displayed the navigation chart, showing their progress from the Sea of Japan through the Korea Strait southeast through the East China Sea past the southern tip of Kyushu. In a few more kilometers they would emerge into the Pacific on the southeast side of the Home Islands. The nav display also projected the Winged Serpent’s future track, following the coastline separated by seventy kilometers, northeast toward Tokyo Bay, where off the mouth of the bay south of Point Nojimazaki a replenishment ship would take station at anchor. The Chrysanthemum would be standing to, looking like an old rusty tanker flying a Liberian flag, her name painted in English in uneven rust-obscured block letters. But all resemblance to a merchant tanker ship would end there. If Winged Serpent had not gained contact on the American submarines by then he would continue up along the coast of the Home Islands until he reached the Shibotsu-jima island at the far north point of Hokkaido Island. There he would turn the ship back southwest and patrol farther from the coastline, 150 kilometers distant, steadily working his way deeper into the Pacific until he had contact. Nothing could stop him now. The orders had taken for ever to come but finally he was at sea doing what he was born to do.
Unrestricted submarine warfare against all units of the American navy.
