Fourth Crisis: The Battle for Taiwan Read Online Free Page B

  Her identification
checked by the sailor on duty, she handed in her sea-bag.   The cabbie, who clutched his lower back as he
mumbled, fell back into his car.   Pelletier strolled a promenade where a gauntlet of palm trees rustled, and
headed for one of the naval station’s old buildings.   She returned salutes from those she passed
and smiled all the while.
    Squeezing into her flight suit, Pelletier checked her flight
plan and strode out to North Island’s ramp and the warplane that awaited
her.   She went about her pre-flight
routine and watched two fat carrier cargo aircraft take off from the base’s main
runway.   Propeller-driven and heavy with
spare parts, mail, supplies, and Pelletier’s sea-bag, the cargo planes required
the most time to catch up with Ronald
Reagan , and were, therefore, first to depart.   As she watched them struggle into the air,
Pelletier began her own airplane’s start up sequence.
    ◊◊◊◊
    The American nuclear supercarrier George Washington was engaged in an exercise with the Royal
Australian Navy south of Palau.   She was
the closest to Taiwan, so her strike group got orders to steam northwest at full
speed, and entered an area of the Philippine Sea called the ‘Dragon’s Triangle.’   George
Washington was super in all respects.   She towered some 20 stories over the water and reached four more beneath
it.   The 1,096-foot hull—as long as the
Chrysler Building was tall—got pushed at over 30 knots by twin nuclear reactors
that powered four giant bronze propellers.   With a four-and-a-half acre flight deck and an air wing larger than most
national air forces, George Washington was twice the weight of Titanic , and some
97,000 tons of American diplomacy.
    Plying the waves off George
Washington ’s port bow was the guided-missile cruiser Lake Champlain, a sleek vessel and, at about half the size of the
carrier, the largest of George Washington ’s
escorts.   Although five-inch deck guns were
her only apparent armament, Lake
Champlain hid anti-air, anti-ship, and land-attack missiles below her
spray-soaked decks.   At the ship’s prow,
snapping in the headwind proudly flew a red-striped flag with a yellow snake that
menacingly declared ‘Don’t Tread on Me.’   A single black anchor hung beneath it, and, below the waterline, a
bulbous sonar stem protruded.   With
helicopters and torpedoes, Lake Champlain was an enemy submariner’s worst nightmare.   On the cruiser’s superstructure, below the bridge’s band of windows,
hexagonal radar arrays scanned the sky for threats.   Arrayed around the ship were dishes, domes,
and antenna masts that talked to satellites.   They also linked Lake Champlain to the group’s other ships, and to command at Pearl Harbor.   With sensors and weapons controlled by a
sophisticated computerized combat system, Lake
Champlain projected a protective bubble high into space and deep below the
sea.   All by her lonesome, Lake Champlain constituted an armada.
    On Lake Champlain ’s
bridge, US Navy Captain Anthony Ferlatto stood between the quartermaster and
lookout, his legs spread wide to brace against the roll of the ship.   With squinted beady black eyes, Captain
Ferlatto studied digital charts and chewed an unlit cigar.   “If I ain’t chewing on this, I’ll be chewing
on you,” he told those who questioned the nasty habit.   The soaked cheroot occupied his mouth, and his
sharp hooked nose whistled as he breathed.   Ferlatto scanned the ship’s helm console and looked to the
officer-of-the-deck, who gave a curt nod.   The OOD knew the captain hated minced words—what he called ‘noise’—especially
when a simple gesture would suffice.   Ferlatto walked forward and rested a hand on the ship’s steel wall.   He determined from its vibration that the
cruiser’s gas turbines were at the correct power setting, and running good and
healthy.   He grunted with
satisfaction.   Ferlatto was always happy
at sea.   He