It was 3:00 a.m. Admiral Ted Frederick, commanding officer of the Carrier Strike Group, had an uneasy feeling and had been unable to sleep. He stood on the bridge of the Nimitz class nuclear-powered aircraft carrier with Captain David Crisalli, the carrier’s commanding officer. Both were long-time personal friends and Naval Academy classmates. Given the low visibility, flight operations had been temporarily suspended. The deck, which was usually bustling with activity, was eerily quiet.
Both officers were gazing out to sea when the admiral broke the silence. “David, I’ve never liked operating in the Persian Gulf. We must remain extremely vigilant.”
“I share your concern, admiral. Frankly, I’m not comfortable operating in this Persian puddle either,” Captain Crisalli complained.
“It’s not just operating in restricted waters that I find troublesome—it’s operating in restricted waters so close to hostile, irrational countries,” the admiral emphasized.
“Surely you can’t be referring to Iran?” Captain Crisalli quipped.
“Well, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and his band of Islamic fanatics are certainly at the top the list, but in reality, danger could come from any point on the compass.”
“I concur. We’re effectively surrounded, and there’s no telling from where the threat will originate,” Captain Crisalli replied.
“You know, David, my dad was stationed at the US consulate in Tehran in the early sixties. I found the people, their culture, and the history of the Persian Empire fascinating. And the country—the country is one of startling contrast and great beauty,” Admiral Frederick confessed.
“That’s interesting. Well, I can’t imagine what the Iranian people have had to endure since the fall of the Shah. What worries me are the recent crippling economic sanctions imposed by the United Nations. I can’t help but believe that Iran is going to behave like a wounded animal,” Captain Crisalli rationalized as Petty Officer First Class Wolfgang approached the officers.
“Agreed. However, I am more concerned with Iran’s accelerated development of nuclear weapons, their sponsorship of worldwide terrorism, and the threat that country poses to the State of Israel,” the admiral replied, although he did not want to get into a political discussion. Yet he found himself briefly reflecting on how dangerous the world had become and the recent discovery of a Russian Akula-class nuclear submarine armed with long-range ballistic missiles patrolling in the Gulf of Mexico. Yes, indeed, the world had become a more dangerous place, and, with a five-hundred-billion-dollar cut in defense spending looming, he felt certain that the greatest nation on Earth would soon be ill-equipped to defend either herself or her allies. Additionally, he carried a heavy burden. Before deploying, the admiral had been briefed by Naval Intelligence that a strike by Israel was imminent. Indeed, Iran’s uranium enrichment facilities would have to be destroyed. Would this attack launch World War III? he wondered.
“Admiral, Captain, there is nothing better than a steaming cup of java on a hot and muggy night,” Wolfgang said as he handed each man a cup of coffee. “Of course, that’s coming from a snipe who was lucky enough to escape the confines of the boiler room for the wide-open space on the bridge,” the petty officer added appreciatively.
“It was my pleasure to have approved that transfer, Wolfie. Thanks for the supercharged caffeine,” Captain Crisalli replied.
“You’re welcome, Captain. By the way, this special brew contains my magic beans. Just one cup will bring you incredible luck—assuming it doesn’t eat through your stomach lining,” Wolfgang added reassuringly, but with a broad grin.
“That’s comforting. Thanks, Wolfie,” Admiral Frederick responded before cautiously taking the liquid stimulant from the petty officer.
“Yes, sir, Admiral,” Wolfgang replied with pride before returning to his duties.
“Admiral, why don’t we move outside to the bridge wing for some pristine Persian humidity?” Captain Crisalli joked.
“Good idea, David. I could use some fresh, damp air.”
“Officer on the deck,” Captain Crisalli barked.
“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Kuo Wei responded promptly.
“The admiral and I will be on the bridge wing,” Captain Crisalli announced.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” the lieutenant acknowledged as both men stepped out onto the open bridge.
“This soup is so thick, Admiral, that I can’t even see the running lights of the vessels in formation,” Captain Crisalli complained as he set down his coffee cup.
“I should say,” the admiral replied while gazing off into the darkness.
“Hell, the Antietam is only a thousand yards off our starboard beam, and she’s not visible. Even the light emitted from the carrier seems to be absorbed by this dark haze. It’s as if we’re in a black hole,” Captain Crisalli concluded with a sense of real concern.
“In my thirty years at sea I’ve never seen anything like it,” Admiral Frederick agreed.
“Well, Admiral, although we’re visible on unfriendly radar, it is comforting to know that the Stennis Strike Group’s silhouette can’t be seen from shore. And, thankfully, the safety and security of our naval base in Bahrain is only four hours away,” Captain Crisalli said reassuringly as Lieutenant Kuo stepped onto the open bridge.
“Captain, Combat Information Center reports the sudden appearance of a large surface contact,” Lieutenant Kuo said.
“Very well, Lieutenant,” Captain Crisalli replied after receiving the disturbing news.
“Admiral, if you would excuse me, I need to evaluate this situation.”
“I understand, David. Keep me informed.”
“Yes, sir,” Captain Crisalli replied before quickly making his way to the Combat Information Center (CIC), where the executive officer (XO), Commander Mike Mauri, was closely monitoring this new development.
“What do you have, Mike?”
“Captain, radar had a large surface contact heading directly toward us at fifteen knots and ten miles out. We originally thought it was probably a large tanker in the outbound shipping lane. However, this one large contact now appears to be six smaller contacts, all abreast.”
“It would certainly be an unusual time of the evening to set sail looking for tuna, so I don’t think they’re dhows,” Captain Crisalli quipped as he analyzed the tactical picture and evaluated the potential threat.
“Is there any chatter coming from these vessels?” Captain Crisalli asked with increasing concern.
“No, sir. No communication at all. Additionally, we have been trying to raise them for the last ten minutes, without success,” the XO replied.
“Mike, I smell a rat. Get two choppers in the air immediately to investigate. With night vision goggles maybe the pilots can see through this muck.”
“Captain, there are two other troubling facts. These contacts appeared suddenly, and the only explanation, which makes sense, is that they were on the western side of Lesser Tunb island, thus shielded from our radar.”
“Interesting. And your second concern?” the captain queried.
“We have no other contacts on radar. This is a busy waterway, and there is always a constant flow of commercial traffic through this area at all hours, day and night,” Commander Mauri injected as Captain Crisalli turned to