Fiction Week

By Paul Viscovich, CDR, USN (Ret.)

“What if the People’s Liberation Army lures us to the wrong landing beach?”

“Say again, Commander?” Admiral Dale Lee gave his operations officer a quizzical look.

“Well sir, with the GPS network out of action and dead reckoning iffy, they could replace charted radio beacons with temporary transmitters elsewhere, supported by some decoy landmarks to make the wrong site look like the right one. Maybe they can’t build a lighthouse overnight but they can easily mimic the correct light’s characteristics in the wrong location.”

“Interesting thesis, Ops. But you’re assuming they already know where we’re going.”

“All due respect Admiral, can we assume they don’t?”

“No. No we can’t. Share your theory with Intel, so they can make appropriate inquiries through back channels.”

__________________________________________

 “Jade Gate, this is Qinglong Leader, over.”

At the mobile command post ashore in Taiwan, a radio operator keyed his mic and replied, “Leader, this is Jade Gate, send your traffic.”

“Coastline in sight, over.”

The watch commander, a PLA colonel, ordered the air search radar energized. “Tell me when you see them.”

“Aye, sir.” The operator switched on the radar and looked intently at the scope, assisted by unnecessary spectators staring eagerly over his shoulder.

“Colonel, I hold three contacts in formation, bearing 137 degrees, 55 kilometers.”

“Very good! Place air search in standby. Radio Qinglong Leader to report his position, then FINEX and return to base.”

“Jade Gate, this is Qinglong Leader. My radio navigation position is 24 degrees, 31 minutes north, 122 degrees, 3 minutes east. Shifting back to VFR. Qinglong Leader, out.”

“Plotter, did you get that?”

“Yes Colonel. Qinglong’s reported position is 40 kilometers south of actual.”

The colonel took a long pull on his cigarette and smiled. “Comrades, we have just filled a major gap in our defenses.”

__________________________________________

China’s invasion of Taiwan triggered setting DEFCON 1 for the first time in U.S. history. Manning at NORAD’s Missile Warning Center in Cheyenne Mountain was on a wartime footing. Though the atmosphere in the control room is never relaxed, its intensity now was unprecedented.

“General, PACOM Site 3 reports possible rocket launch from Yulin.”

General Greg Kellogg, laconic at the best of times, had been listening silently to the stream of information directed at him for analysis and action. The unforgiving speed of inbound ICBMs and irrevocability of actions taken in response allowed no time to correct any error in judgment.

“Corroboration?”

“Querying Site 5, sir.” Seconds passed. Tension mounted.

“Clock’s ticking, Major.”

“Site 5 confirms possible launch, sir. Standby. Site 5 now reporting a second launch. Site 3 confirms.”

General Kellogg cocked an eyebrow. One launch in a day is unusual. Two within five minutes? Almost unheard of. “Captain Brewster, put me through to National Military Command Center.”

“General, Sites 3 and 5 both report a third rocket launch. Now tracking three separate contacts.”

“NMCC on the line, General.”

The familiar voice of the President asked, “What have you got for me Greg?”

“Confirmed reports of three rocket launches, southeast mainland China. No trajectory yet but it’s a highly anomalous event. We must consider the possibility of an ICBM strike.”

“What’s your status of silo readiness?”

“Ready FIVE, Mr. President.”

“Okay, what do I need to trigger a counter-strike?”

“Any confirmed inbound trajectories, sir.”

“Okay. Stay on the line, I’m passing the phone to my military aide.”

General Kellogg covered the mouthpiece and called to his track evaluator. “Report any additional launches and trajectories.”

“Aye sir. Still tracking just three. These are not, I repeat not, in attack formation. None are heading towards the U.S. at this time. One is tracking to southwest, away from us. The second is tracking northeast and the third is tracking southeast.”

“Your assessment?”

“These three present no immediate threat to CONUS. Will report probable targets when they attain final altitude.”

The three missiles soon revealed their purpose, peaking in low earth orbits and launching a single satellite each. One settled into geosynchronous orbit, 300 miles above the Molucca Sea; the other two attained 130-mile altitudes, with orbital paths crossing over the Philippine Sea every 90 minutes.

__________________________________________

An alert watch stander near the entrance announced, “The admiral is in Combat.”

Admiral Lee secured the watertight door behind him and stepped into the eternal twilight of USS Tripoli’s Combat Information Center.

“Good morning, sir. Can’t sleep?”

“Actually, I set my alarm for 0400. Since surprise attacks often happen around sunrise, I wanted to be on station early with a cup of coffee. What’s going on? Anything from NMCC on yesterday’s rocket launches?”

“A follow-up came in on the Midwatch. It’s the top item in your message traffic. The quick and dirty is, because of the confluence of those satellite transits over the Philippine Sea, the Joint Staff suspects they’re reconnaissance birds looking for us.”

“That would make sense. How’s the weather, still overcast?”

“Yes sir, Met Officer says we can expect cloudy skies for 18-36 hours.”

A buzz over in CIC’s navigation plot caught their attention but the 21MC intercom at the admiral’s console interrupted before they could investigate further. “Flag Plot, Bridge.”

“Plot aye, Admiral speaking.”

“Good morning sir, Officer of the Deck. We just got a line of position on our GPS receiver. It just came out of nowhere.”

“Are you sure it’s a valid signal?”

“No sir, but we’re rounding up the techs to check it out.”

“Thanks Bridge. We’ll check on this from our end as well and let you know what we find.” Turning to his Staff Watch Officer, “Get the Intel Officer up here.”

“He’s already on watch sir, I can probably raise him on the 21MC.” He punched the appropriate button on the Station Select panel. “Intel, Flag Plot. The admiral has a question.”

“The Bridge reports GPS may be coming back online. Do you have any idea where this signal’s coming from? Zombie satellites saved for use only during war?”

“I can’t say, sir. If so, it’s classified at a higher level than I’m cleared for.”

__________________________________________

The stress in the PLA mobile headquarters was evident in the short-tempered demands of senior officers for more and better information, the frustration of junior staff and equipment operators struggling to find connections among an overabundance of clues, and the resulting clouds of cigarette smoke. Where were the American naval forces and where were they heading?

They knew two large formations of warships were crossing the Pacific. One, an Amphibious Task Group carried a Regimental Landing Team of Marines. The other was a Carrier Strike Group to provide direct support to the amphibs. Their likely mission was to land the Marines somewhere behind the PLA invasion now menacing the beleaguered Taiwanese forces.

Not knowing where or when the blow might fall made this knowledge almost useless. The atmosphere of borderline chaos in the headquarters tent was sustained by the uninterrupted squawk of voice radio messages coming from the overhead speakers. The watch commander noticed an unusual huddle of junior officers around the table of the radio decryption specialists.

“Have you lieutenants learned something interesting or are you merely exchanging gossip?”

“A contact report from Picket #3 has just arrived, Comrade Colonel. We are double-checking the decoding. Sir, the sub has visual contact on several large units with escorts, position 23 degrees, 11.4 minutes north by 127 degrees, 34.8 minutes east. Their approximate heading is 280 degrees at 20 knots.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Chen. I look forward to more useful information like that from you.” He smiled and raised the handset of a landline telephone. “This is Colonel Feng, put me through to General Hui.”

__________________________________________

“Admiral, USS Mahan got a couple of active pings, correlating with a reported periscope feather before losing contact, classifies it ‘probable sub’.”

“Thanks Ops. Likely a diesel boat on picket station. Radio the carrier group, we may have been compromised.”

“Aye, sir. Will this affect the landing?”

“Not likely. With H-hour less than a day away, the Chinese won’t have much time to reposition before we get the Marines ashore. How’s the nav plot looking?”

“GPS is still questionable, but improving after that big correction.”

“About that …”

“Still trying to figure it out, sir. It’s possible that while the Chinese were destroying our satellites, GPS was being slowly degraded without us realizing it. By the time the system was hard down, who knows how far off track we might’ve been?”

“The quality of the fixes was going downhill toward the end. How’s it looking now?”

“The current difference between GPS and the corresponding Ship’s Inertial Navigation System’s dead reckoned position has settled down to a steady mile or less north of DR, sir.”

“Do we know what’s causing this?”

“The Met Office says it could be the wind. It’s been veering from south-east to southwest for the last 14 hours, strong enough to set us off track to the right. On this heading, we’d expect more of an error in latitude than longitude, and that’s exactly what’s happening.”

“Very well, then. Signal a change in base course by another two degrees to the left to get us back on track.”

__________________________________________

Electronic warfare is a stand-off weapon, and so is its management.

The plan to trick the approaching Americans was developed and controlled at the highest levels of the Defense Ministry in Beijing. An assembly of top-ranking generals and admirals rose respectfully as Minister Su Lumin took his seat at the head of the table.

“Comrade Chou, what news of this threat approaching Taiwan Province from the east?”

“Two U.S. naval formations were organized in the central Pacific seven days ago and commenced a westerly transit under cover of bad weather. One formation is an Amphibious Task Group of seven troop transports and one America-class amphibious assault ship. The estimated size of the landing force is about 2,200 Marines. They’re accompanied by four Arleigh Burke Class destroyers.

“About 200 miles behind this group are two aircraft carriers in company with another nine destroyers and two oilers. We expect this force to provide pre-landing fires against our positions ashore, using ship-launched cruise missiles and carrier-based close air support during the landing.”

Minister Su turned to the PLA chief of staff. “General Wu, how would this landing imperil our advance on Taipei?”

“The threat, Comrade Minister, lies not in the enemy’s numbers but his ability to establish a beachhead. Once ashore, he can build airstrips and improve the site with floating piers, fuel dumps and field hospitals capable of supporting division-sized formations to challenge us on the battlefield.”

“Then how can we prevent this?”

“If we divert our forces away from the offensive, it will slow our advance. And not having time to prepare our defenses on the beach will expose us to heavy casualties.”

“I have known you, General Wu, for too long to think you would present me with problems and no solutions.”

The PLA chief of staff relaxed slightly. “We have developed a tactic to lure the Americans away from their planned invasion site, wherever it is, to one at greater distance from our forces. We also believe we can decoy the carrier strike group’s fires to unintentionally hit their comrades at the false landing site.”

“Interesting, General. But this tactic is not original.”

The chief of staff stiffened nervously.

Minister Su continued, “The opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by using the enemy himself.” He paused. “So wrote Sun Tzu. Please explain to me how this will work.”

__________________________________________

“Will these seas never calm?” Tripoli’s quartermaster of the watch twisted his body painfully, trying to simultaneously brace his legs against the rolling deck while sighting his sextant on the lower limb of the sun. “Mark. Elevation 40 degrees, 44 minutes.”

“Got it,” replied his chief. “Shoot another as a check. God knows when we’ll see the sun and the horizon at the same time again.”

“Damn, Chief! Isn’t GPS sending the Inertial Nav System regular updates again?”

“Yeah, but Gator thinks it’s too soon to trust it. I think he’s right. Every time we get a GPS update, it puts us a mile or two north of where SINS dead reckoning holds us.”

“What’s that got to do with shooting sunlines?”

 “Can’t tell if the problem’s with SINS or the satellites. Won’t be able to either, not without a good celestial fix. So you keep an eye out for topside shadows and a clear horizon. If you see both, hot-foot it up here and take a sunline. Right now, I’d trust even a celestial running fix more than what those high-tech gizmos are telling us.”

A similar argument was taking place down in Flag Plot.

“I’m not comfortable with repeatedly adjusting base course left another degree or two with every new GPS fix. Can anyone explain to me what’s happening?”

“We’re working on it Admiral. Tripoli’s navigator has collected GPS fixes from the ships in company for comparison. The error, if indeed that’s what it is, is consistent. The GPS longitude agrees with our SINS dead reckoning, but there’s an error of about a mile to the north in latitude.”

“And we’re still blaming this on the wind?”

“No, Admiral. Wind speed has dropped by half and we’re still being offset to the right of track by the same amount.”

“It’s probably a fault with the satellites,” offered the ops boss. “I mean, it’s unlikely all the SINS units would have developed the same error independently.”

“I agree,” offered the chief of staff. “It seems we have only three functional GPS satellites and I’ve polled the COs on each of our ships. They all report their SINS units are ops normal.”

“You people are getting too mesmerized by technology. What we really need are some celestial observations. The heavenly bodies don’t break and sight-reduction calculations don’t lie.”

The chief of staff cleared his throat. “I was talking with Tripoli’s CO. He said that for the last couple of days his navigator has been trying to get a fix, but the weather isn’t cooperating. The best he got were a couple of estimated positions that were so poor as to be useless for checking GPS and SINS against.”

“Then I suppose we must work with the tools we have. Change base course another degree to the left.”

__________________________________________

“Gator! Wake up!”

“What? Hells bells! It’s half-past midnight for God’s sake!”

“Chief says he needs you on the Flying Bridge now sir! The skies have cleared and the rising moon’s shining on a good horizon.”

“Tell Chief I’m on my way!”

Forty-five minutes later, Tripoli’s navigation team had plotted a three-point celestial fix. It placed them nowhere near where GPS and SINS indicated.

The navigator rapped on the CO’s Cabin door and entered. “Skipper? We just got a good celestial fix. I hold us 23 miles south track.”

“We have to wake the admiral.”

Ten minutes later, the key decision makers clustered around the navigation plot in CIC. Admiral Lee clutched a mug of stale Midwatch coffee while his staff, the ship’s CO and navigator awaited his decision.

He addressed the navigator directly. “Gator? How long will it take to get us to the correct beach?”

“Nine hours at flank speed, sir.”

“That will delay H-Hour by four. We’ll be landing in broad daylight. Well, it can’t be helped. Signal the task group. Immediate Execute, Base Course 286, Base Speed 22. Ops, gin up an Immediate message to Admiral Funke, info the carrier group. Report that we are off-station, GPS is unreliable, and H-Hour is delayed to 0900. Provide our true current position, time, course and speed. He’ll figure out where we’re going.”

__________________________________________

General Hui was awakened less than an hour later. Nodding in response to his aide’s whispered report, he put on his slippers and a non-regulation silk robe festooned with dragons for this pre-dawn visit to the command center. His aide met him there with a steaming cup of green tea.

“Comrade General, the Americans have discovered our ruse. Our picket submarines report their landing ships are now tracking north-north-west at top speed, toward what we evaluate was their original landing site.”

“Then place reconnaissance teams near that beach to report developments as they occur.”

As this discussion concluded, a Shaanxi Y-9LG long range electronic warfare aircraft launched from Hainan, enroute to the Taiwan Straits. It rapidly attained cruising altitude of 35,000 ft.

__________________________________________

D-Day, H minus two hours. The Boat Group Commander was on station, forming the landing craft into waves for their assault on the landing beach. The escorting destroyers had moved into their assigned stations, ready to provide naval gunfire support.

On the Bridge of the Primary Control Ship, Gator was one of several officers scanning the beach for any sign of enemy activity.

At H minus 15 minutes, the destroyers commenced gunfire support while those 200 miles out to sea launched a salvo of land-attack cruise missiles.

High above the Taiwan Straits a Chinese EW aircraft began emitting a UHF transmission in a focused beam on 1226.7 MHz. Simultaneously a satellite in geosynchronous orbit over the Molucca Sea switched the coded signal of its transmission.

“Gator? GPS is acting up again.”

“What is it now, Chief?”

“We just got a two-line estimated position that puts us right on the beach!”

“Oh, you mean where the Tomahawks from the carrier group are about to hit? Good thing that’s bogus.”

The Bridge 21MC suddenly squawked, “Vampire, vampire, vampire! Incoming cruise missiles! Tomahawks locked on Tripoli with terminal homing! Recommend setting General Quarters!”

“Gator, those Tomahawks must be receiving the same bogus GPS coordinates we are!”

“Damn Chief! We’ve been spoofed!

Paul Viscovich is a retired Surface Warfare Officer with 20 years’ service, twelve of that on sea duty. He is a frequent contributor to CIMSEC.

Featured Image: Art created with Midjourney AI.