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Wargaming

Wargaming the Future: Educating the Fleet in Multi-Dimensional Warfare

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By LT Jack Tribolet

Educational wargaming is underutilized and possesses the potential to teach warfighters intricate modern doctrine and force capabilities. Historically, analytical wargaming has functioned as a critical tool for military leadership, offering insights into force capabilities and aiding decision-making through experiential learning. Yet, within the US Navy and Marine Corps, the potential of digital or electronic wargaming as an educational platform for junior officers and Midshipmen remains largely untapped. Traditional tabletop wargames, once favored by older generations, fail to engage the younger, digitally-raised cohort and instead cater to a niche community. Statistics speak volumes— about 80 percent of Generation Z and Millennials play video games and average around seven hours of weekly gametime—highlighting the opportunity for a new generation of wargames. This data underscores a missed opportunity in leveraging simulator-based educational wargaming for the 21st-century Navy and USMC. The capacity to craft a sophisticated, educational, and enjoyable physics-based simulator exists, and it is incumbent upon the Navy and USMC to embrace this modern technology for Professional Military Education (PME) and junior officer training.

In the Fall of 2023, the University of Southern California’s Naval ROTC program embarked on a year-long initiative to introduce Midshipmen to the complexities of the Taiwan problem set. This scenario-focused education requires a significant understanding of naval and amphibious operations and is ideal for incorporating wargames. USC’s educational program blends discussions, lectures, and essential reading materials, such as James R. Holmes’ Red Star Over the Pacific: China’s Rise and the Challenge to U.S. Maritime Strategy (2018), which enabled the students to have an in-depth discussion with Dr. Holmes via Zoom regarding Taiwan. However, it is worth noting that this initiative provides only an introductory-level education for Midshipmen and would benefit immensely from the addition of fleet-integrated educational wargaming.

Historical instances, such as the development of War Plan Orange prior to the Second World War, demonstrate how effective analytical wargaming can be when mixed into scenario decision-making. Yet, no standardized efforts were made to prepare junior officers similarly. The Naval War College and officer training pipelines did not see the value in educating junior officers like senior officers. However, even though junior officers do not require the same analytical gaming experience as fleet commanders, they can benefit enormously from exposure to educational wargaming to introduce them to various topics. As a learning tool, wargames can train the participants in force capability and doctrine, provide terrain familiarization, and offer opportunities for decision-making development. Additionally, they challenge the participants mentally, stimulating and driving sophisticated problem-solving and decision-making. As a tool, variables can be added or subtracted to increase/decrease game complexity, allowing for infinite theoretical scenarios.

Updating the naval officer training curriculum should not be difficult. The United States Naval Academy (USNA) and Naval Service Training Command (NSTC) promulgate curriculum guiding Professional Core Competencies (PCCs) roughly every three years that govern “the foundational standards of ‘officership’ by delineating core competencies required of all officer accession programs.”1 Whispers of a new competency for basic instructional wargaming exist, but even if included in the 2024 PCCs, this will require significant time and resources to train unit Officer Instructors to run educational games proficiently. Additionally, few ROTC courses have extra time, and an already burdened weekly schedule leaves little for adding extra training on top of current requirements for Midshipmen. To the collective groan of students and instructors alike, adding wargaming to officer training will necessitate a standalone time slot in weekly schedules, rather than shoehorning wargaming into existing time. Furthermore, Officer Instructors will need professional training to standardize implementation and enable cross-unit competition.

The Brute Krulak Center for Innovation and Future Warfighting at Marine Corps University (MCU), who are pioneering educational gaming for MCU students, example one potential source of training for Officer Instructors. MCU could integrate with the biannual three-week Teaching in Higher Education (TiHE) course for incoming NROTC instructors, and allow them to reach the hundreds of Sailors and Marines who commission through NROTC each year. Moreover, standardization of training and the games played across ROTC programs is paramount to enable cross-unit integration and competition. Competition in wargaming events would incentivize performance and further stimulate Midshipmen education. The Government Accountability Office recently recommended that the Navy and Marine Corps “evaluate the costs and benefits of developing standard wargaming education and qualifications for wargaming personnel.” Consequently, the services must establish wargaming as an Officer Instructor (OI) qualification to standardize and enhance training pipelines through educational gaming.2 This qualification could mimic the newly introduced Warrior Toughness program, which has gradually become part of the Fleet through accession pipelines. After rotating through ROTC the cadre returning to the Fleet could broaden wargaming initiatives at the unit level, gradually fostering a culture shift towards embracing wargaming more extensively across the services.

However, if the Navy and Marines want to capture the attention of a new generation, they must develop an educational but entertaining multi-dimensional physics-based simulator to maximize the application of 21st-century technology. Tabletop wargaming, while valuable, is not sufficient. Tabletop gaming offers an immediate but temporary avenue for educational learning at a remarkably affordable investment. Straightforward tabletop problem-solving games can be completed within a brief timeframe, ranging from twenty to thirty minutes. An illustrative example is the microgame “Call Sign,” which concentrates on carrier combat and introduces singular variables, showcasing how these games can efficiently impart knowledge and skills, but these games are insufficient to meet the needs of the ROTC curriculum and lack the potential of digital games.

The Office of Naval Research (ONR) sponsored a study on the value of video games, which concluded that “people who play video games are quicker at processing information” and that only “ten hours of video games can change the structure and organization of a person’s brain,” therefore tying informational learning to entertainment has a remarkable potential to increase retention. Most importantly, education must be balanced with entertainment, meaning accurate force capabilities and doctrine must coincide with quality graphical rendering of the action and include regular updates. Simulating forced decision-making with minimal time and minimal information provides invaluable experience for future military decision-makers. Furthermore, an in-depth military simulator would require knowledge of blue force design and doctrine, cultivate warrior skillsets, and increase tactical acumen. A competitive gaming culture amongst recruits and service members will ensure the longevity of such a program.

Effective strategy games blend a minimal initial learning curve but increase in depth and complexity while remaining re-playable due to variety. Like traditional board wargames, turn-based games necessitate a fundamental understanding of force design and doctrine. Conversely, real-time strategy (RTS) games demand swift decision-making, compelling players to act within a restricted timeframe. Modern games often integrate these two approaches, allowing players to oversee larger forces strategically in a turn-based mode while enabling detailed control over individual units during confrontations. This amalgamation of turn-based and RTS elements harnesses the educational advantages of understanding force dynamics while providing experiential learning through decision-making, offering a holistic approach to strategic gaming.

One potential commercially available wargame is Command: Modern Operations. However, this game suffers from being overly complex, detracting from the entertainment value of the equation as it requires many hours of instruction to play. Unfortunately, no commercially available modern strategic video game fits this balanced role, and most avoid contemporary conflict scenarios and instead focus on fictional Cold War scenarios. For example, naval-centric Cold Waters (2017) and land-centric WARNO (2022) display well-researched military simulators exhibiting the capabilities of Cold War-era forces. The success of Cold War-era simulators remains undeniable, as the developers of Cold Waters have showcased an upcoming impressively modeled new game, Sea Power: Naval Combat in the Missile Age. The cost of developing a modern video game ranges from $10,000 to millions. However, the DoD could drastically cut this cost by leveraging an already created modern simulator, such as WARNO, funding this successful team and providing experts to modify a pre-created simulator to reflect modern force capabilities.

An LRASM salvo attack is launched against a PLA Navy Carrier Strike Group in the wargame Command: Modern Operations. (Video via Emerging Threats Group Youtube Channel)

Furthermore, the official Navy/USMC stamp on a military simulator would draw outsized attention from the private market, serve as a potent recruitment tool, and create a competitive outlet for Midshipmen and officers. The Navy has already worked to capitalize on the popularity of video games by creating an E-Sports team, which is run by the Navy Recruiting Command. Yet, an official strategy simulator would draw further interest through military recognition by connecting to modern youth in the popular video game dimension. In the US alone, the strategy game market revenue reached $14.88 billion in 2022, exhibiting a significant market share of overall games. Ultimately, the success of a military simulator hinges on player enjoyment and support; popular strategy games such as Starcraft II maintain over a five million monthly player count despite being a decade old. In comparison, WARNO only sold 213,000 copies so far, as it lacks competitive depth.

Warsaw Pact and NATO forces compete in combined arms maneuver warfare in the wargame WARNO. (Video via VulcanHDGaming Youtube Channel)

Unfortunately, the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) has outpaced the US in competitive digital wargaming, recognizing its potential for education since the early 2000s. Notably, since 2017, the PLA has organized national wargaming competitions, boasting more than 20,000 participants in 2019 alone. Emphasizing the educational aspect, the PLA actively encourages military simulator usage to instruct on force design changes and to promote military affairs to the civilian population. Initially, the PLA benefitted enormously from mimicking US civilian market military simulators, but has since shifted to domestic-made strategy games, such as Mozi Joint Operations Deduction System, which enables military members to fight simulated battles with Chinese equipment. Additionally, the PLA copied popular US titles, such as Call of Duty, to create their own first-person shooter, Glorious Mission, to “improve combat skills and technological understanding” in military members.3 Wargaming has evolved into an integral part of PME for the PLA, gaining widespread popularity even amongst the civilian population. This exemplifies a dimension where the PLA initially imitated the US military, strategically leveraged the US private sector, and ultimately leapfrogged US capabilities to outperform the US military in PME.

A salvo of Soviet P-500 Bazalt anti-ship missiles (NATO reporting name: SS-N-12 Sandbox) is fired by a Slava-class cruiser against a U.S. Cold War-era surface action group in the upcoming wargame Sea Power: Naval Combat in the Missile Age. (Work-in-progress developer video via Not Sure Youtube Channel)

Damien O’Connell, the founder of the Warfighting Society, recently penned an article, “Progress and Perils: Educational Wargaming in the US Marine Corps,” on The Maneuverist blog, which delineated implementation issues for fleet-wide educational gaming. He outlines five obstacles to greater implementation of wargaming in the operating forces: “(1) confusion about what educational wargaming is and is not, (2) skepticism of its value, (3) ignorance of its successful use, (4) limited time, (5) aversion to nerd culture, and (6) ignorance of how to integrate wargames into training and education plans.”4 The Navy and USMC must not conflate educational gaming with analytical wargaming. Decision-making opportunities and force design instruction found in basic wargames will answer any confusion surrounding wargaming and its value and demonstrate its successful use to any observing critics. However, overcoming issues related to time and integration will demand a substantial initial investment and revised time requirements through curriculum standardization. Aversion to “nerd culture” stems from a historical stigma against board gaming, shared even by video gamers; this dislike can be easily solved by tapping into the voracious appetite for video games.

A secondary benefit of creating wargame literate junior officers would positively boost the ability of time-proven analytical gaming and thus improve force design and doctrine. The early introduction of wargames will create “a bigger pool of individuals who are exposed to the principles of wargaming, allowing the DOD to cast a wider net when looking for qualified individuals to build, run, and analyze games,” and in turn, increase the performance of future professional analytical wargaming.5 Furthermore, the over-reliance on civilian-run wargames has created a capability deficit among military personnel, because fewer are trained in how to run and manage wargames.6 This culture change could imitate the drastic success of the Prussian officer corps, which spawned avid wargamers such as General von Moltke—the Prussian army chief of staff—who expanded the use of wargaming under his leadership. As a result, the Prussian military dominated the European continent in the 19th century and forged a dominant military doctrine that lasted a century. Unsurprisingly, “many countries attributed the battlefield success of Moltke and the Prussians to the integration of wargaming in their army.”7

Junior officer education needn’t be limited to monotonous PowerPoint displays or exclusive to PME. Wargaming presents a straightforward remedy for a complex educational challenge and should not be dismissed as an after-school activity. If the US military aims to regain the edge against the PLA in critical thinking and education, it must create a finely tuned educational military simulation video game. Furthermore, the potential for training will exponentially grow as technology such as virtual reality becomes more readily available. The Navy and USMC must stay ahead of the educational curve, set the foundation for a future sophisticated Ender’s Game-like military simulation or Star Trek’s morality-testing unwinnable game, the Kobayashi Maru, and turn science fiction into reality. Existing tabletop games may temporarily suffice but must be formally integrated into the curriculum and eventually replaced by digital simulations. The value of multi-domain educational learning from wargaming cannot be overstated. Moreover, increased interaction with younger generations through a popular Navy-endorsed video game could help draw in technology-oriented recruits. The Navy and USMC must embrace 21st century technology and adapt it to benefit instruction for foreseeable near-peer threats. No military aviator argues against the extensive use of flight simulators in modern instruction; this attitude must be broadened to the entire Fleet.

LT Jack Tribolet flew the MH-60S Knighthawk with HSC-26 out of Norfolk. He currently serves as an Officer Instructor teaching at the University of Southern California and is the nationwide NROTC Course Coordinator for the class Seapower & Maritime Affairs.

References

1. Officer Professional Core Competencies, United States Naval Academy, Naval Service Training Command, April 2019, iv. https://www.netc.navy.mil/Portals/46/NSTC/cmd-docs/manuals/2019%20Officer%20Professional%20Core%20Competencies%20(PCC)%20Manual.pdf?ver=2020-08-06-111416-387#

2. Government Accountability Office, Defense Analysis:Additional Actions Could Enhance DOD’s Wargaming Efforts, April 24, 2023, 32. https://www.gao.gov/assets/gao-23-105351.pdf

3. Kania, Elsa B. and McCaslin, Ian Burns. Learning Warfare From the Laboratory—China’s Progression in Wargaming and Opposing Force Training. Washington DC, MD: Institute For the Study of War, September 2021, 18. Learning Warfare from the Laboratory ISW September 2021 Report.pdf (understandingwar.org)

4. Damien O’Connell, “Progress and Perils: Educational Wargaming in the US Marine Corps,” The Warfighting Society, Updated 25 December 2023. Progress and Perils: Educational Wargaming in the US Marine Corps By Damien O’Connell (themaneuverist.org)

5. Hunter, “Immerse Early, Immerse Often,” 38.

6. Kyleanne Hunter, “Immerse Early, Immerse Often: Wargaming in Precommissioning Education,” in Forging Wargamers: A Framework for Professional Military Education, ed. Sebastian J. Bae (Quantico, VA: Marine Corps University Press, 2022), 31.

7. Appleget, Jeff, et al. The Craft of Wargaming: A Detailed Planning Guide for Defense Planners and Analysts. Annapolis, Maryland: Naval Institute Press, 2020, 53.

Featured Image: A Soviet surface warship under attack from Harpoon missiles (Developer work-in-progress screenshot of wargame Sea Power: Naval Combat in the Missile Age, via 

Fiction Week

War in the Dark

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Fiction Week

By Ryan Belscamper

Prologue

Everyone knew a war was coming. We’d been talking about it, and hearing about it for years. All the talking heads agreed, “No earlier than 2027, no later than 2030.” So of course it came as an absolute surprise to everyone when the war started in May of ’28. I watch a lot more of the news than other guys in my unit, so my surprise was more like, “Whoa, this is actually happening!”

Neither the U.S. or China wants to admit we’re actually fighting a war. Five aircraft carriers, twenty to fifty destroyers (ours and theirs) either sunk or badly damaged, ten or twenty thousand civilian casualties, mostly in Taiwan, a few cities wrecked, and exactly two nuclear weapons used in the first two and a half weeks. Definitely no war going on here. And I’m definitely not sitting in the middle of it.

Those first two and a half weeks were rough. Basically, both sides managed to knock out most of the other’s forces and capabilities. Every day the news had something dramatic: “Two U.S. amphib groups deploy Marines into Taipei,” then “Amphibious groups sunk by Chinese attack,” “Chinese invasion force sunk by U.S. aircraft,” “Nuclear weapon destroys U.S. carrier group,” “U.S. nuclear weapon detonated in Yellow Sea,” “Jinzhou, Dalian, Weifang, Changzhou, and Tianjin waterfronts destroyed.” One day the U.S. Navy was getting sunk, the next day the U.S. Navy was sinking the Chinese Navy. After those first couple weeks, the pace of the war dropped off, just because neither side could afford to keep up the earlier pace. The whole time, the Chinese kept dumping more troops into Taiwan.

Finally, some four-star got the bright idea that to keep Chinese troops out of Taiwan, they needed to be somewhere else, and the best plan anyone could come up with was to push Littoral Combat Regiments in close. Real close.

Moving Out

[22:45] So that’s why I’m here, two months later, riding a rubber boat in the middle of the night off this little island where my platoon has spent the last two weeks either avoiding detection, or trying to get noticed. It’s not even a very dark night; the lights of Hong Kong really brighten up the sky with their amber glow. Second platoon was actually up on the mainland, just north of the city a week ago. From what I hear they spent most of their time drawing giant penises everywhere they could. The rest of us have been counting how many ships have moved in and out of the port, and trying to figure out if any of them were military, or how much trade disruption the Navy is managing.

Tonight was different though. When the sun went down, a few of our guys broke into the lighthouse on the northeast corner of this island. They planted a bunch of charges on timers before heading to the extraction site. Word has it there was some more graffiti involved. The story is that White bought spray paint at some shop in the city while he was up there with second platoon. I can’t for the life of me figure out if anything that comes out of second platoon is true.

So, while they were planting their charges in the lighthouse, we were uncovering the three launchers we brought with us. At ten o’clock, as we were beating feet to the south side of the island, all twelve missiles launched. We could see the flares of the rocket motors going up as we jumped in our boats, and it wasn’t even a minute later when we started seeing flashes and hearing the “krRump” of those missiles hitting a whole bunch of ships moving out of port. This close to the mainland, the Chinese had to know we were here. So far, I think they’ve ignored us, or we’d have all died a while ago. Judging from the fireworks, I think they’ll be looking for us now.

Okay, boats are turning west. Re-group on Dawanshan. The plan, as I understand it, is we spend about two days laying low on Dawanshan doing damage assessment, then they pull us out of here. These last couple of weeks were kind of funny, like a teenage camping trip with weapons. But as I watch that lighthouse explode behind us, my feelings are changing fast. We’re not a comedy sideshow anymore. This war is real, and we just invited the whole Chinese army to come looking for us. I could wade to the mainland from here. Five minutes pass, and we’re passing the edge of the island now, and I can see the fires burning on the water. I count them; seven, eight, no ten ships ablaze barely out of the harbor. They’re too far away to tell for sure, but I think those two were containerships, and that one is definitely a frigate. All of the others are getting covered in too much smoke to even guess what they were. We did that, and it looks like a horror movie. Okay, I have to face it. Maybe two days till our little excursion is over, and I’m scared.

The Next Morning, 0630

It took us another hour to make it out here to Dawanshan, where Third Platoon has been setting up a defensive net. The sun is rising now, and I can see a lot of smoke still coming from the northeast. Looking a little further to the left, I can see a lot of grey-blue planes flying into the airport. There is definitely a military buildup going on there, and anyone with an IQ over seven knows they’re coming after us. There’s a break in the cargo aircraft, so I grab the binoculars. Looks like two squadrons of helicopters moving into town too. A hundred and fifty of us, less than ten miles away, with no armor, and no air support, versus all of that. I think those planes carry about two hundred troops each, and I saw at least ten of them land. I guess the exact count doesn’t matter, because another flight is coming in now.

[1530] For the second time today, we watch as Chinese helicopters swarm over one of the other islands. Through binoculars, I count fifteen choppers. Five are attack choppers, and circle around a lot. The other ten must be transports, because they just hover over an area for a minute or so, then move away fast. Apparently that is how they are looking for us – rappel about a hundred soldiers down and scour the island. We spent those first two weeks moving from island to island, so I’m certain they’ve found some of second platoon’s artwork by now. There’s no question they found the launchers we abandoned, that was the first island they searched, and medium-sized trucks with giant anti-ship missile launchers on the back aren’t so hard to find. It takes a few hours before the attack choppers leave, they must’ve figured out we aren’t there anymore.

Around 1800 Carlos reports sighting a third group of aircraft moving over yet another island. Call it two hours between searches, and ten or twelve islands out here worth the name. I count on my fingers and come to an ugly conclusion – they will search this island before we leave.

Ambush

[Next Day, 1400] My earpiece is bugging me with its low hum of static, but I don’t dare move to adjust it. Every couple of minutes, I heard the faint hum of an electric quadcopter just over the trees. I can’t see a thing other than open ground ahead of me. The thermal blanket is making me sweat, and I’ve got a cramp in my left leg from not moving for so long. I can’t hear the drones anymore, they are completely drowned out by the chop-chop of approaching helicopters. Two helicopters fly past, before a third one stops and hovers right over me. Us. It stops to hover over my fireteam. Each of us are individually concealed, and it is so easy to forget that I am not alone here on the ground.

The end of a rope smacks me on the back, then bounces just a few feet away. Nothing over the earpiece yet. Not that I could hear anything over the pounding of my own heart right now anyhow. Boots appear right in front of my face, and I thank the stars I wasn’t just stepped on. Two more pair appear in turn, and the fourth pair actually step on my rifle as they walk away. The rotor beat of the helicopter is the only reason they can’t hear me breathing. The helicopter leaves, and I can see five soldiers walking away from me, into the small woods right ahead. I was expecting ten, the other five must be behind me somewhere.

“Hold. Second wave approaching.” The low, calm voice over the earpiece almost makes me jump from the sudden fright. I see a quick movement in front of me, I think Carlos did jump. Sure enough, the beating of rotor blades is growing louder again. The first five soldiers are just out of sight now, and I pray the second group doesn’t step on us like they did.

“Now.”

One word. LT didn’t even sound excited about it at all. I don’t jump this time, the command was given so dispassionately. The helicopters are almost overhead when I hear the firing of rocket motors in every direction. As the helicopters overheard explode in unison, the squad of enemy soldiers that almost stepped on us comes bursting back through the trees. I fire, and fire again. First guy down, and I can’t even line up a shot on the second man right in front of me before he drops to the ground, riddled with bullets. I hear a few more shots, and wet thumps behind me as the other half squad falls. Echoes of gunfire ring the area, but then stop. A few crashes of burning machinery, a scream of pain and two more rifle shots, then silence.

Wait, that was it? As I collect my senses, I realize that couldn’t have lasted more than ten seconds, fifteen tops. What kind of firefight is over in ten seconds?  Rising from our positions, this empty clearing is suddenly occupied by my fireteam. We form up on Sergeant Rice, and sweep the area. Dead bodies ahead of and behind us. A hundred feet later toy quadcopters lay disabled on the ground. Two go into foil bags, the rest we just stomp on. In a matter of minutes, the entire island is swept, and the all-clear signal is given. Secondary positions are occupied, as we wait for either nightfall or a more robust attack. The next eight hours are the most exhausting stillness of my life.

One of the attack helicopter pilots survived. They pulled him out of the cockpit, put a splint on his arm, and tied him to a tree after Doc shot him full of morphine. Then they raided what was left of his aircraft for all the electronics, manuals, and maintenance records they could find. “They” being from second platoon, I’m guessing there was some artwork on the pilot’s face.

Egress

[2230] We are cutting this close. Climbing into our rubber craft, I can hear the helicopters approaching. Never mind, we’re all onboard, and putting ourselves as far from here as we can. I can see the beach behind us, all clear. Fifteen other boats are in the water with us, all heading south. Our wakes glow like rocket trails in my night-vision goggles. Panic strikes, our wakes are glowing! One of the helicopters is turning now, heading right towards us. We’ve got a head start, but it’s closing fast and as far as I can tell, we’re just heading into open ocean. Looking further out to the sides, I see two small patrol craft. We’ve gotten this far, not a scratch on any of us, and now we are all going to die! I scan ahead of our course, and I can see yet another mast. Great, pinned in by three patrol craft, chased by helicopters, and pretty much devoid of any useful weapons for this fight. Cynicism must be self-propagating, because my goggles just flew off when we hit that last wave.

The two patrol craft on either side of our flotilla of rubber boats are sweeping the waves with searchlights. I see one of the other boats caught in the beam, and I watch as a rocket flies from the helicopter annihilating ten helpless Marines. Another boat is caught in a searchlight, and ten more die. There is a rattle of machine gun fire from one of the patrol boats, but I have no idea what they are shooting at or if they hit any more of us. The searchlights continue to sweep, and one locks right on my boat. Another missile or rocket flares up from the boat in front of us. This one arcs through the air, coming right at the boat I’m in.

The missile sails higher overhead, past us, and brings the helicopter down in a flaming wreck before it sinks beneath the waves. Two more missiles flare up, going to the sides this time, and both of the flanking patrol craft are hit. One more missile goes into the air. I track it until the motor burns out. Following the arc, I see a fireball well behind us. Was that the second helicopter? It had to be.

Our boats are turning now, coming up right behind the vessel which blocked our path. This is no patrol craft, this is a ship. I can only see traces of the outline above me, but that loading ramp at the back, twelve feet above the waterline can only mean one thing. The “Little Crappy Ship” just saved us. Sailors aboard make good time dragging every one of us up into the mission bay. LT is the last aboard, and I hear the ships engines spooling up as we start moving fast through the water. I don’t need my goggles to see the wake kicking up behind the ship. Looking through the closing doors of the mission bay, the wake is an incandescent volcano of water. I catch one last view of the city lights before the doors finish closing.

I hear the squad leaders taking muster, but I’m not the senior guy, so that isn’t my problem. I really don’t want to think about why they’re taking a muster right now. That’ll be the only thing any of us think about for a while, so it can wait till tomorrow. I look for a place to get some sleep.

Ryan Belscamper is a former U.S. Navy Firecontrolman, now working as a U.S. Navy civilian to maintain our Navy’s readiness.

Featured Image: Art created with Midjourney AI.

Fiction Week

Dropping Out of Sight West of Heligoland

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Fiction Week

By 1st Lieutenant Till Andrzejewski, German Maritime Police

Lars Mueller was a little nervous. It was January 17, 2034, and his old cutter Samson had been pounding against the three-meter-high waves in the German Bight since noon. This winter they didn’t need him on the River Elbe, but around Heligoland, the sandstone island 30 miles from the mainland.

At 50 feet long, his ship was actually too small to be so far out in stormy weather. Since the government had also requisitioned smaller vessels and paid good compensation, he had offered his second home, a former surveillance boat from 1964, and had the conversion into a survey vessel paid for. But he usually sailed the North Sea only in the summer.

Two years before, Mueller and his crew were quickly prepared for work as assistant marine surveyors for the young German Coast Guard. Their task was to tow a sonar torpedo which was used to monitor critical undersea infrastructure. After the Nord Stream 2 pipeline exploded twelve years ago, there were constant attacks on pipelines and submarine cables throughout the Baltic and North Sea. In September 2026, a structured attack on several data cables caused an overload of Internet traffic with Scandinavia, which could not be compensated for due to simultaneous satellite jamming. As a result of the communication disruption, Russia took advantage of this opportunity and expanded its territory from occupied Svalbard to Bear Island and Jan Meyen. The area north of the GIUK Gap was under acute threat. The navies and coast guards of European countries were also deployed to the Norwegian Sea at that time, leaving a surveillance gap in the North Sea.

The British had taken precautions and built monopiles around their islands at an early stage, in the style of the old sea forts of the last world war. From there evaluations of what was happening on the seabed could be carried out using AI-based systems. The British Navy had their new naval base “Doggerbank” just where the EEZs of the United Kingdom, Denmark, The Netherlands, and Germany met. And another one on the Orkney Islands. Both of them served as the homeport for an entire fleet.

Ten years ago, Germany initially relied on its European allies. When the Dutch ended their military cooperation in 2027 due to their own security interests, the Federal Republic quickly produced a dock landing ship and two smaller landing craft. But larger survey vessels for a coast guard did not materialize, although there was no German Coast Guard at this time, only 17 federal and state authorities with seperate responsibilities. Then the federal states stopped their presence at sea for financial reasons. After the Dutch had recently concluded a 20-year charter agreement with three large standby safety vessel shipping companies, only a few special ships and private yachts remained for the German Bight. At the time, Mueller was happy to have a job again. His work as a sailing instructor had come to a standstill since the North Sea was no longer safe for sports craft, and he had his sister and two friends recruited with him.

Actually, he should already be west of the fellow light vessel German Bight to survey the gas pipelines Europipe 2 and 3, as well as two parallel data cables, which were all heading north. But the northwest wind was giving the cutter trouble and so it didn’t roll north at the level of the light ship, but northwest pitching against the waves towards the new Stribog 1 wind farm. The route was originally scheduled for next week, but that didn’t matter to Lars today. It’s better to have something than nothing at all, he thought and was amazed at himself. He had actually taken the job because of the money. But could it be that he cared about life in Europe and the people in his country? He did not know. He tried not to overthink it.

He tuned out everything around him for a moment and remembered the constant riots in his hometown and the massive police presence everywhere. He thought it was good to live in a land that tolerates the expression of all opinions. That it is okay that the government lets protests be and that they allowed elections. He did not feel that safe in his country at times, but felt that he could trust the government. Yes, this was it. One of the best democracies he could think of.

His sister Miriam sat below deck between cables and monitors. As a master in geographical sciences, she was the best at evaluating sonar and echo sounder images. When returning to Heligoland every two days, the collected data had to be transferred via USB stick to a coast guard computer in order to obtain an underwater situation picture. Neglect of the mobile phone network in maritime areas since 2010 made it impossible to quickly transfer large data packets.

Miriam also had the task of reporting important findings immediately. Satellite and radio connections were available for this purpose. Little did she know that she would need this connection today.

She chewed on her pencil and called out, more to Moritz, who was wedged in his bunk, rather than to herself, “Hey, what’s that?”

Moritz rubbed his eyes, stood up, staggered to the table and looked at the colorful screen. “There have to be no more wrecks here since the wind farm went online!” Miriam agreed. She called towards the wheelhouse and asked Lars to look at the pictures. Lars left his place at the autopilot and carefully came below deck, leaned over the monitor and was amazed. “I have never seen anything so big! Quickly take screenshots and establish the satellite connection with Coast Guard Command West.” Miriam turned on the VHF and switched to the channel for the communication with the Command West at Heligoland.

Lars went to Kalle, who was trying to open cans in the galley, and called him into the wheelhouse. “I need you up here now.” The two went upstairs. Every eight seconds a wave hit the bow, it literally splashed. Miriam shouted after the two of them that they could stay on course, the photo had been saved.

While Miriam wrote the data email and Moritz excitedly rocked his legs back and forth, the two seafarers continued their journey on shipping route 4. The were talking quietly, as if Miriam and Moritz were having a video conference downstairs, and for this reason background noise had to be avoided. At sea, it was slowly getting dark.

_________________________________________

About an hour later, as they were about to haul by, Moritz rushed up to Lars and shouted, “It’s chasing us!”

Lars was now really excited. He didn’t fully understand what Moritz was trying to tell him. But it dawned on him that the object previously captured underwater must be some kind of giant submarine that was now underway.

“The Navy is assuming a submarine. They are sending a reconnaissance, P-8 from Nordholz,” Moritz told them. The P-8 Poseidon should actually have been retired by now. However, the French asserted early on that the aircraft of the Franco-German Maritime Airborne Warfare System project should go to the French Republic first. “Let’s see if they discover more than we do,” Lars murmured into his brown beard.

On the one hand he found it exciting, but on the other hand he was also worried about what would happen next.

“Miri, what does it look like?” Lars asked. “I don’t know. I think he has located our sonar torpedo,” Miri replied. “Turn it off!” Lars sounded panicked. Sea swell didn’t bother him, although he had had better experiences in storms with his sailing ship than with the old steel cutter. He was allowed to call himself “Sea Captain 1st grade i.A.” (in the Auxiliary Coast Guard) for the duration of his employment. But he was not a police officer, not a soldier, not a tactician. And he was afraid for his crew.

“Moritz, Kalle, put on the suit. We’ll get the torpedo out of the water.” The two understood immediately. Nobody protested. It took them five minutes to put on the thermal suits and go out. In the meantime, Miriam had summarized and sent the most important data in an email and hoped that the connection would hold. The clattering waves were not good for the sensitive electronics. The on-board electrical system depended on historical converters that did not provide a total of 2 kVA.

Fifteen endless minutes passed in which Lars repeatedly turned aft and watched the two friends cranking the old winch. “Please don’t fall overboard, please don’t fall overboard,” he muttered, trying to avoid any rolling motion. Lars finally saw the sonar probe hanging on the makeshift crane and the two deckhands came in.

“For hells sake, what’s that blood?” Lars shouted at Moritz when he saw the red fluid mixed from blood, sea water, and grease dripping down his right arm. Miriam, alarmed by the shouts, immediately came into the wheelhouse and took Moritz down with her. Kalle said that Moritz must have gotten caught on the wire reel while winching up, but it might not have been a deep wound.

Just when everyone’s heads were focused on Moritz, Lars saw the Navy plane above them. They must have dropped a sonar buoy. He immediately hauled by and headed shorewards for Heligoland. Without towing the probe, they would be able to cover the 50 nautical miles in about ten hours and be on Heligoland early the next morning.

As a sailing instructor, Lars always enjoyed being out on the water. Since he dared to look below the surface of the sea, it often seemed eerie to him. Like when he was a little boy in Norway, when he paddled a kayak out into a fjord with crystal-clear water and then looked down as if from an abyss. Back then it was panic. Today it was fear.

But without the towed torpedo, he didn’t know whether this gigantic object would continue to pursue them, whether it would even attack them, or whether it would now quietly and secretly prepare an undersea operation that could have a significant impact on the prosperity of the european continent in a month, a year, or two years. Last sighting 1810 LT, he wrote in the ship’s log.

Lars asked from the messroom about Moritz‘s injuries and whether he should try to contact one of the few sea rescue units. Miriam said no, it was a flesh wound and she wanted to sew it up herself. Only a helicopter would be able to beat the critical time of six hours. Which they wouldn’t get. Not today. Not in this storm.

He didn’t feel like it anymore, it was tiring. The ship was too small, they were too few. He and his crew were always overfatigued. Two more years, he thought, and then we’ll stop. Then perhaps there will be more personnel for the coast guard again, then ships will be built and permanent structures will be installed. Secretly he knew it would be more like six to ten years. He missed being on his sailboat and teaching the trainees how to sail, how to live on a boat, how to love the sea.

The voyage back to Heligoland was quiet. Silent and depressing. Kalle was also in the wheelhouse and reported the Samson to Vessel Traffic Service Center twice. Both men didn’t say anything else other than responding to the VHF.

Lars stood at the helm, trying to avoid swinging in following swell and thought of Jules Verne, his favorite author. How come almost all states are coming behind his fiction, only we are still to live in the age of Captain Nemo, and what he proclaims about the sea: “Upon its surface men can still exercise unjust laws, fight, tear one another to pieces, and be carried away with terrestrial horrors. But at thirty feet below its level, their reign ceases, their influence is quenched, and their power disappears.”

Today I saw again how our reign stops below the surface of the sea. It’s just reaction, not prevention, Lars thought. At some point, really, he would be able to paint over the words “Auxiliary Coast Guard,” and retire. Then when we can finally live in peace again and no longer have to be afraid of the fathomless sea.

Till Andrzejewski is a 1st police lieutenant for the maritime state police of Lower Saxony (Niedersachsen), Germany. He is a coastal patrol boat operator and head of mission and investigation of a maritime police station. He has served in different police authorities, such as a police diving unit at the riot police, as an operations leader at the maritime police, and in the Joint Emergency Reporting and Assessment Center Sea (JERACS) in Cuxhaven.

Featured Image: Art created with Midjourney AI.

Fiction Week

Dawn’s Early Light

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Fiction Week

By Ben Plotkin

Dusk.

The fish were finally biting. Not little fish—the big ones.

Luca looked over the side of the boat at the fishing line jerking vigorously as he began to reel it in.

There was the deafening roar of a jet. Luca turned to see the quick-moving dark fuselage of a low flying USMC F-35. It was so low, and now so close that Luca had to reach up to cover his ears.

The jet banked towards the fishing boat, and Luca could see its afterburners were fully lit. Another high-g maneuver as the F-35 performed a sharp break turn. The jet was flying no more than a few hundred feet above the surface of the Taiwan Strait. Luca was no pilot, but to him the maneuver seemed extraordinarily risky.

Two missiles were fast approaching, tailing and matching the violent turning and maneuvering of the F-35. The jet released a series of flares and cloud-like chaff as its afterburners blasted again and it accelerated towards the horizon. One of the tailing missiles exploded in the cloud of chaff close enough that Luca could feel the heat of the explosion and reflexively ducked to avoid any fragments.

The second missile exploded just behind the single rear engine. The effect on the jet was instantaneous. It performed a violent barrel roll and began spinning uncontrollably towards the water. The pilot ejected.

Too low, thought Luca. Too low, he’ll never make it. The ejection seat shot upwards, and immediately the chute deployed. Luca was close enough to see the limp figure of the pilot as he descended. He looked dazed or unconscious. A moment later the pilot and chute splashed into the water.

Before they hit Luca had already ditched the fishing line.

Hauling the limp wet body of the pilot onto the fishing boat proved to be difficult. This was complicated by the fact that he was still attached to the chute, which created a tangled web that took time to cut through. Fortunately, the flotation device wrapped around the pilot had kept his head above water.

Luca collapsed wet and exhausted on the deck next to the limp body. He stared up at the sky. It was a dark moonless night. He knew that once the sun set he had only a limited time to prepare for what was coming. His improvised search and rescue mission might have seriously compromised his timeline.

Luca worked quickly to remove the pilot’s helmet. His paramedic training kicked in and he ran through the drill. Check the airway, check for breathing, check the carotid for a pulse. He ran through these three motions mindlessly, quickly registering that the pilot was indeed breathing and that there was a pulse. It was only after he allowed himself a moment to relax, that he noticed the pilot was a woman. Her blonde hair which had been tightly pulled back was now disheveled. A large bruise discolored the left side of her face. Her left eye was swollen and her lip cut and oozing.

Luca performed a quick trauma assessment. He looked for signs of major injury or bleeding. He could see none. If there was any internal organ injury this was beyond his ability to detect. He ran his arms along her extremities feeling for any fractures, but found none. She was breathing, her chest rising symmetrically, she had a good pulse, and other than the facial injuries he couldn’t detect any other signs of injury. He raised her eyelids and shone a light at them. The pupils quickly restricted to pinpoints, a good sign. She should be okay.

Behind him he could see the faint glow of a few lights still left burning in Taichung. Luca thought the perhaps the Taiwanese could do a better job with their blackout discipline, but then he reminded himself that it likely didn’t matter, and it especially wouldn’t matter if his mission was a failure.

He looked at his watch again and stared towards the China side of the strait for what he knew would be soon coming.

_________________________________________

The warm tropical breeze and the gentle undulations of the waves were calming. The pilot flickered her eyes slowly and groggily opened them. The swelling about her left eye had increased and it looked as if she could barely see out of it.

Luca was quickly by her side and offered her a bottle of water. The pilot looked at him, obviously slightly confused, but she grabbed the bottle, took a long swig and then looked around, surveying her surroundings.

“Thanks,” she finally said. Her voice had the unmistakable drawl of a Texan. A drawl that was instantly recognizable and familiar to Luca.

“Anytime,” said Luca. He could see she was having hard time stringing a thought together.

“You’re American,” she finally said.

“Yes ma’am,” said Luca.

She took another slow sip of water, looking up at the sky she had fallen from then back at Luca.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Good night for some fishin’,” Luca said after a pause. “Good night for some fishin’.”

A rattling above signaled a barrage of incoming rockets from the mainland. Both Luca and the pilot reflexively looked skywards.

“You picked an interesting time to go fishing,” said the pilot.

“Never a bad time for some fishin’. They’re really bitin’ tonight.”

A series of violent rumbling explosions rocked the Taichung coastal plain. The red glare of the explosions briefly backlit the large wind turbines at Gaomei.

“What’s your name Marine?” Luca asked.

The pilot took a moment before answering, trying to shake of the brain fog.

“Miller. Jaime Miller. Captain.”

“Nice to meet you Captain Miller. I’m Luca. Luca. No rank, just call me Luca.”

Another flight of rockets flew overhead streaking toward the coast.

A larger explosion flashed further up the coast.

“Narrow escape you had there,” said Luca. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

A pained expression crossed the captain’s face as she seemed to relive the moment her plane was hit.

“Bastards,” she muttered to herself. “I splashed five of them before they got me though.”

“I guess that makes you an ace,” said Luca.

“My wingman didn’t make it.” Her voice cracked slightly as she finished the sentence. “Bastards.” Another long pause. “Two of us for five of them. Don’t think that’s a good ratio seeing what we’re up against.”

“Where you flying off of? There’s no Marine aviation on the island.”

She gave Luca an odd look, and he could tell she was deciding whether she should answer the question or not, or at least answer it honestly.

“I flew off the Wasp. Was our second sortie of the day, and I guess my last. Look Luca, this doesn’t add up. Just what are you doing out here?”

“I told you. Just a little fishin’. Stick around captain, you’ll see.”

_________________________________________

Luca looked carefully at his watch and for the hundredth time that night scanned the waters in the direction of the mainland. 

Miller was now standing up and resting against the railing as the boat gently bobbed in the waves. Each time Luca checked his watch, and then the horizon she noticed. She looked at her own watch. 0300. What was he waiting for? What was he looking for?

They both heard the noise. At first distant, but quickly growing louder, the unmistakable thumping of approaching helicopters. Luca didn’t waste a moment, he grabbed Miller by the elbow and helped her under the canopy covering the cockpit.

“Down,” he said. They both lay on the cockpit floor. Luca produced a compact pair of night vision binoculars and scanned the sky as the sounds grew closer and louder.

“I see them,” he said. Luca had scooted to the edge and was peering intently through the binoculars. “A flight of two, Z-19’s I think. Looks like they have a whole flock of drones keepin’ ‘em company.”

Luca passed her the binoculars.

The helicopters were getting very close, and even their small dark fishing boat would be visible to them. Luca had cut the engine and was letting the boat drift.

“Agree,” she said. “Armed with rockets and anti-ship kit. Wonder if they would waste them on a civilian target? They’ll see the heat signature of the engine.”

“Well,” said Luca slowly. “Maybe, but I’ve made a few modifications. We might be a bit lower profile than normal.”

Miller gave him a curious look, but said nothing.

The womp of the rotors was louder and they no longer needed binoculars to see the two dark helicopters with their accompanying drone swarm. They clearly had stopped at standoff distance and were assessing the new contact.

“I don’t know if you’re religious Captain, but now might be time for a good prayer if you’ve got one.”

Miller didn’t say anything.

The helicopters fired their rockets.

_________________________________________

Luca and Miller bobbed up and down in tandem, clinging to a large chunk of fiberglass wreckage from the fishing boat.

The helicopters had left, speeding towards the coast line. Luca could only hope the air defenses picked them off.

“You know Luca, this is not the day I expected to be having when I woke up this morning. I’ve now been shot out of both my plane and your boat. What’s next?”

Luca grinned at her. “Sharks,” he said in a deadpan tone.

“Are there really sharks?” she said.

“Of course there are sharks, but I doubt they’ll bother us tonight. We are goin’ to have a nice long swim back to the shore though.”

“I guess we should get going then,” Miller said.

“Sorry captain, not quite ready to leave. Have to take care of a little business first.”

“I don’t know how to break it to you, but I think your fishing trip has come to an abrupt end,” said Miller.

“I’m not sure they’re done biting just yet. Got a few more I want to bag before we head back. Plus we should rest for a bit, when the time comes, we’re going to need to do some fast swimming out of here. You a good swimmer captain?”

“State champion 200 fly,” she said.

“Good. We’re gonna butterfly all the way back to the beach then. But not just yet.”

“Whatever you say. Looks like I’m just along for the ride at this point.”

“And captain, if I may, you’re gonna appreciate this ride.”

_________________________________________

Luca checked his watch. 0400. At least the water wasn’t too cold he thought. It shouldn’t be much longer.

They bobbed in silence for long periods of time. Luca had retrieved a large waterproof duffel from the sinking boat. Over the last hour he had been retrieving and tinkering with various pieces of equipment, which he placed on the flat surface of the floating debris. Miller watched intently. One of the items he had retrieved for them was a candy bar.

“Eat it,” he said. “Extra caffeine, and maybe a few other things. Will keep us going for a bit longer. We’re going to need all the energy we got.”

She did as she was told and soon noticed she was indeed feeling much better. Her head still hurt and throbbed. Only now she didn’t seem to mind as much.

“What part of Texas you from?” Luca asked.

“Little bit outside of Austin, place called Fredericksburg. You?”

“Well, we’re practically neighbors. I’m from Round Rock.”

They shared a smile. Luca finished eating his chocolate bar and was setting up a laptop, which he was trying to precariously balance on a flatter piece of the fiberglass wreckage. The laptop looked like a hardened military version, was rubberized, and could clearly handle a little water without too much problem.

“Changing your profile to lost at sea” Miller smiled.

“Wouldn’t want my friends to worry,” said Luca.

Miller looked at the screen. It displayed a detailed oceanographic map of the Strait. There were multiple objects all with iconography she didn’t fully understand. She did, however, understand some of the overlays, which appeared to show real time positioning of aerial and marine contacts—both blue and red.

“Look Luca, you got to level with me. You’re no fisherman.”

“Yes ma’am I am. High school champion. Caught the prettiest bass you’ll ever see. 16 pounds. Tasty too.”

“Well that might be true, but you’re not out here fishing tonight.”

“Different type of fish tonight. Almost time. Look.” He pointed to the screen at a series of red dots that were almost right on top of them judging by their location on the map.”

“Those look big, bad, and like they belong to the wrong team, Luca. What are we expecting?”

“What we are expecting is the early morning ferry service.”

“Ferries?”

“See these four big red dots?” Luca zoomed in on a cluster. “Each one of those dots is ferry service from the mainland. They are fancy roll on, roll off ferries. Mega civilian ferries, but in this case packed with the majority of the men and material of their 3rd Marine brigade. Now heading this way. Right on time too. Tip of the spear if you will. Shore landing, seize port, you know the drill.

“Now, If we had some fancy goggles we could see them just out there,” he said pointing towards the waters in front of them. “Fortunately, we happen to have a pair of fancy goggles.” He pulled out a pair of night vision goggles and handed them to Miller.

Miller strapped on the weatherized goggles and looked towards the horizon.

“Magnification dial is on the side,” Luca said.

Miller dialed in the magnification, and sure enough coming towards them were four massive ferries surrounded by an escort of smaller ships. She flipped off the goggles.

“They’re coming,” she said. “Right where you said they would be.”

“You see these?” he pointed to a series of green dots just below the red dots of the ferry flotilla. Miller nodded.

“What we got there are what they used to call sea mines. And they still are, in a way. Although, these aren’t your grandpa’s mines. What you’re looking at is a dispersed network of semi-autonomous smart mines. Each individual one is not enough to sink a ship, but taken in aggregate, we will see what they can do. The beauty of these things is that they weren’t there yesterday when the minesweepers went over this route. A SEAL team placed them right after the minesweepers passed. They’re designed to sit on the sea bed until show time, which is right about now.”

“If these mines are so smart, what are you here for?” said Miller.

“Well, I’m what back at the farm they call redundancy. They can operate without any oversight, I’m just here to make sure the job gets done. We didn’t want them triggering on the wrong target. They’ve been earmarked for the ferries. As soon as they approach, I give them their final orders.”

Luca tapped hurriedly on the keyboard. “Like to do the honors captain?”

“What do I do?”

“Just hit enter. Easy peasy.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Luca said with a big smile.

Miller didn’t hesitate. She hit the ‘enter’ key with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. The laptop bobbed down and up again on its fiberglass flotation and seawater pooled around its base.

“What’s going to happen now is that our friendly little mines are going to start rising to the surface. They’re programmed to aggregate and attach themselves to the largest magnetic targets in the vicinity, which in this case are our ferry friends. They’re networked so they can see which target each mine has selected, a design specification to ensure that each ship gets an appropriate number snuggled up nice and friendly like.”

“That’s it?” said Miller.

“Told you, easy peasy.”

They watched as the ferry flotilla moved closer. It was heading on a course which left them just slightly to their port side. As they watched the small dots representing the mines, they began moving on the laptop screen, swarming towards the large targets. The ferries were generating undulating bioluminescent wakes which gave the panorama before them a ghostly vibe.

Luca looked at his watch. 0500. It was almost time.

“It looks like there are hundreds of those dots. How many mines are there?” Miller asked.

“888. They say that’s a lucky number.”

“That’s a lot of mines.”

“A wise admiral once told me, ‘When in doubt, overload.’”

They didn’t have long to wait.

A series of massive explosions rippled across the waters. The force of the explosions was so violent, the sea state changed and the rough chop almost knocked the duo from their fiberglass float.

The sky was beginning to lighten. They could clearly see the wreckage and devastation the mines had wrought. The four ferries were still afloat, at least for now, but they had unhealthy lists and were enveloped in thick black smoke, and flame.

“Not bad,” said Miller.

“Not bad at all,” Luca responded.

Sunrise was coming, and with the dawn’s early light, a four flight of low flying naval attack A-10s roared overhead, their pylons bristling with anti-ship armament, their fuselages a mottled grey-blue camouflage pattern. The lead jet waggled its wings as it passed. Luca responded with an informal salute.

“Clean-up crew,” said Luca pointing upward. “Think it’s time for that swim now.”

Miller smiled at him, and they began their long swim back to shore.

Ben Plotkin is a physician in southern California. He can be reached at [email protected].

Featured Image: Art created with Midjourney AI.