Men bartered, women chatted, children laughed. Lines creaked as the ranked schooners tugged at their moorings, impatient to be free. Hammers rang along the slipways of the boat yards. The only hint of the modern world was the occasional cheerful burst of Indonesian dangdut pop music from a tape player.
The whirring buzz of a light helicopter cruising slowly down the coast at a high altitude was ignored as a manifestation of the dying Jakarta government. Also ignored were the three blockish silhouettes on the western horizon, their gray camouflage paint blurring them into the thickening heat haze.
The intruding ships were the “strong squadron” of the Indonesian Navy, the Fatahillah Class frigates: Fatahillah, Malahayati and Nala, the newest, the best-maintained, the most powerful. Beyond a potent battery of Exocet surface-to-surface missiles, torpedoes, and ASW mortars, the Fatahillahs mounted the heaviest gun armament of the fleet: Swedish-built Bofors 4.7-inch cannons.
This point of nautical trivia mattered little to the Bugi tribespeople going about their affairs dockside. They could not hear the forward observer in the helicopter speaking into his radio headset or see the turrets traversing shoreward, the heavy gun tubes elevating.
Aimed by the spotter helo and the frigate’s fire control radars, the first three-round salvo screamed in with no warning, a triple mushroom cloud roiling into the air. The second followed precisely three seconds later, the cannon auto-firing at twenty rounds per minute, every third shell a white phosphorus incendiary.
With computer-guided precision, the shell bursts walked down the length of the waterfront. Buildings, docks and ships disintegrated, fire leaped into the sky and rained down again, the air filled with a murderous spray of wood splinters and shrapnel. People looked up, stunned, horrified, paralyzed as the wave of devastation rolled down upon them.
The holocaust ended as the three bombardment ships reversed course. Running southward, they again hosed the length of the waterfront area with a firestream of fifty-pound shells. It was an act of barbarism – but it was also stark proof that, in an age of cruise missiles and precision guided munitions, concentrated naval gunfire can still be devastating.
With a hundred rounds per ship expended, the cannon fell silent and the naval squadron sheered off into the open waters of Makassar Strait, turning away from the smoke enshrouding the fires and wreckage of Port Paotere. Left behind were dead ships, dead people, and a devastated way of life.
Those survivors who were not screaming in agony or weeping in sorrow raged at
Jakarta for this savagery. The Bugi had no way of knowing that the Admirals at
the Indonesian Naval Ministry had not only not authorized the attack, but that
the majority of them were already dead.
MV Shenandoah Galaxy
1415 Hours; Zone Time, November 1, 2008
“Oh, and Frank, in the final draft of the post action report, be certain to
include numerous hearts and flowers for NAVEX 7.2’s willing assistance, exemplary performance of all hands, etc. etc. etc. It’s not only true for the most part, but we may have to work with Sorenson again
one of these days. It may sweeten his outlook a little.”
“Aye aye, sir.” MacIntyre’s Chief of Staff looked out from the screen of the laptop positioned on the
corner of the cabin’s desk. “Will do.”
“Now, what about press control? Are we seeing any hint of a Phantom leak?”
“Not so far, sir. Media Psyops is pushing the responsibility for the Embassy
evacuation onto the Regional Intervention Force and the North Australian bases,
served up with a heavy side order of doubletalk. That should improve Sorenson’s disposition as well.”
MacIntyre leaned on the desk edge. “How about the awards list I dispatched, Frank?”
“Essentially no problems, sir. We’ll have to clear Captain Quillain’s battlefield promotion to Major through Quantico, but with his record I can see
no difficulties.”
“Excellent. That will give Stone the beef he’ll need to better handle the Sea Demon command.”
“Uh, sir. There will be one difficulty though – the Legion of Merit you proposed for Captain Garrett. At the moment, her
position within the Navy is rather ambiguous. How are we supposed to give a
medal to someone who isn’t supposed to be in the service?”
“Hire her a good sea lawyer, Frank,” MacIntyre replied flatly.
“Aye aye, sir.” The CoS hesitated for a moment. “If I may say so, I agree. It appears to have been an outstanding operation. The
damn thing apparently works.”
“Phantom Force? So far, yes,” MacIntyre replied, slowly pacing the length of the desk. “But we still haven’t figured out a way to unlock the over-all situation down here. What are your
people seeing? Are we missing anything?”
The CoS scowled out of the screen. “It’s like Captain Garrett’s status, sir. Ambiguous. We’re seeing sporadic land and air engagements between declared Government and
Rebel Forces on both Java and Sumatra – and a large-scale but seemingly uncoordinated coastal bombardment on Sulawesi
that we’re still trying to figure out. Beyond that, things seem fairly quiet on the
outer islands. We’re not seeing anything in the way of a major coordinated offensive developing
from either side yet.”
“I suspect both sides are still in a state of shock, thank God,” Macintyre growled. “Things aren’t going well for anyone down here.”
“There is one thing that might be working in our favor, Admiral. Things seem to
be quieting down on Bali. The island’s religious leaders seem to be trying to put the brakes on the bloodshed and
restore a degree of order – or at least that’s what RIF tactical Intelligence is picking up.”
“That is favorable. Now, what about the rest of the world? Is there anything else
we need to be worried about?”
“Yes sir. The eastern Med.”
“Oh, Christ.” MacIntyre sank into the desk chair and turned the laptop to face him. “Who’s mad at who now?”
“The usual. Greece and Turkey. The diplomatic venom coming out of both Athens and
Ankara has been ramping up steadily for the past week.”
“What’s the point of contention this go round?”
“Again, the usual. Air and sea transit rights and national waters conflicts in
the Aegean Sea. It’s reached the point where the President of the European Commission has called on
all involved parties to display restraint and take part in a meaningful
diplomatic dialog.”
MacIntyre grimaced, “I’m sure that’s helping the situation no end. What are our analysts saying? Are the Greeks and
Turks making their usual monkey faces at each other, or is this something more
serious?”
“We’re not sure, sir. The Greeks and Turks have been engaged in a major naval arms
race for the past couple of decades, and they both could be about ready for
another try at each other. Beyond that, a couple of wild cards have just shown
up in the deck.”
“Turn them over.”
“Greece has recently declared a series of joint defense exercises with Bulgaria
outside of the command structure of both NATO and the European Union. On the
other side, Israeli naval units have started to pop up in the Aegean,
apparently operating in co-ordination with the Turkish fleet.”
“Christ all Friday! Are we receiving any deployment or alert-to-move orders from
the National Command Authority yet?”
“Not overtly, sir. We don’t want to insult our gallant NATO allies. But CinC 6th Fleet has been instructed to find reasons to keep his Surface Action Group in
the Eastern Mediterranean and all US bases and military missions in the
involved states have been ordered to keep their ears to the ground for any
unusual military activity.”
“Keep me posted, Frank. Let’s hope they give us enough time to clean up this mess before something new gets
dumped on us.”
“We can hope, Admiral. Will there be anything else today?”
“Negative, Frank. Let’s make it the same time tomorrow. Shenandoah, out.”