The Kidd Incident

Pacific Command HQ

Joint Base Hickam Pearl Harbor, Hawaii

General Braverman entered the Admiral’s office with a grin on his face.

The Admiral looked up as he entered. “Good news?”

“Yes sir.” He placed a large bound document on the Admiral’s desk. “Final treaty signed this morning. The weenies over at state had to piss in the coffee before they drank it, but it’s basically your agreement, sir.”

The Admiral picked up the document and lazily flipped through it. “It’s not my agreement that matters, son. It’s about ending this fucking war.”

Braverman sobered at the Admiral’s tone. “Yes, sir. I think we’ve done that.”

“And what about operation Albacore?”

“Ready to go. The boats are in transit.”

“What did the Aussies say?”

“Are you kidding? The admiral who runs their submarine force almost giggled when I asked him on the phone.”

“I am still thinking it should be Vietnam.”

“Yes, sir. However red team feels that Australia is more neutral, politically. They have a good reputation with China for being level headed. The Vietnamese are too hot right now. To make this work, it has to be something we can deny with a straight face. The sailors won’t talk, they don’t call it the silent service for nothing.”

“Yes, understood. OK. Greenlight Albacore.”

ROCS Sea Serpent (SSN-795)

Tsoying Naval Base, Kaohsiung, Taiwan

Chief Wilcox was conning the former USS Pittsburgh from the sail. On the surface, nuclear submarines like the Sea Serpent were not very seaworthy and they took a steady hand to bring into port. Which is why the Australian captain standing next to him was pretty much just keeping out of the way.

“Ya know sir, I’m just the hired help around here, but ain’t the Chinese gonna notice three ‘nucs coming into this here harbor?”

The Australian submariner chuckled. “I think that’s the idea, Chief. That way when Chinese boats disappear from the straight, the Taiwanese can claim the kills.” In fact, there were an even dozen American submarines in the strait at the moment. As soon as the Taiwanese crews were aboard the three Los Angeles class attack boats, the “sanitization” of the Taiwan strait would begin.

“Shit sir, is that a brass band?” Wilcox pointed down to where the Pittsburgh was supposed to moor. What looked like half the Taiwanese Navy was standing there. With a band.

“Strewth! TV cameras too. Did you think I was here to drive the ship? I’ve been told to yabber in the most Australian way possible.” He looked at Wilcox, obviously uncomfortable in his Australian Navy uniform. “Just pretend to be a yobbo, you’ll be fine.”

“A yobbo, sir?”

“A redneck.”

“Oh, aye sir. I can do that.”

In short order, the former American submarine was tied up at the pier and the Australian officer was ushered onto a podium where a Taiwanese Navy Admiral began to speak in Mandarin.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are extremely proud today to introduce you to the three newest members of the Navy. These ships represent the first nuclear-powered vessels in the proud tradition of the Republic of China Navy. We would also like to thank and welcome the Australian training officers who have so selflessly volunteered to familiarize our brave sailors with their new vessels. Because of the extreme danger faced by our country, they will be proceeding to sea immediately to help protect our beautiful country. Make no mistake: These are Chinese vessels crewed by Chinese sailors, the pride of the Republic of China!”

The crowd went nuts as the Taiwanese submariners came smartly to attention and then began to embark on the submarines. Within two hours, the three submarines were submerged again and prowling the Taiwan straight. In fairness to the Admiral, some training did actually occur on-board when the American crew was off duty.

Within three days, Taiwan claimed over thirty ships sunk within five hundred miles of Taiwan. The PRC invasion of the ROC was over once the sea lanes were cut. It took two weeks for the commanders on the ground to admit defeat, but their fate had been sealed the moment the strait was closed.

The South Sea War, sparked by the Kidd Incident, was over.

USS Bonhomme Richard (LHD-6)

South China Sea

“The Pittsburgh.”

The Admiral looked up from where he had been drafting a contingency plan. “Excuse me Tom?”

“The USS Pittsburgh. She is sitting in Bremerton, waiting for disposition.”

“Isn’t that a 688?” The Los Angeles class of nuclear fast attack submarines had been one of the most successful submarine programs in US history. They also were known as “688’s” in the Navy after the first boat in the class, the USS Los Angeles (SSN-688).

“Yes, sir. Just taken out of service in January. She is still fueled.” While nuclear submarines didn’t use fuel in the normal sense in that they didn’t burn oil or diesel, they use nuclear fuel rods. These rods were extremely toxic and needed to be handled with the utmost caution. Removing them was normally part of decommissioning but the operation took time and had to be planned with care.

The admiral was locked in thought. The Taiwanese had been screaming for submarines for years but the US had been unwilling to sell them a ‘nuc. They had tried to broker deals with other countries but Taiwan was addicted to American weapons. Since America no longer made diesel boats, that meant no modern subs for them unless the USA would unbend and allow them a nuclear boat. A couple of fast attack 688 class boats would change everything in the Taiwan straight.

“Let me make a call.”

Puget Sound Naval Shipyard & Intermediate Maintenance Facility (PSNS & IMF)

Bremerton, Washington

“Mooring Alpha, Chief Wilcox speaking.” The other members of the shore watch team looked up, interested. They had been extremely frustrated to be sitting here on a pier at PSNS when the Navy was fighting a shooting war in the Pacific. After a few words, Wilcox shot upright, almost coming to attention in his chair. “SIR! Yes SIR! Pittsburg is fueled and ready to put to sea sir! Yes SIR!” He paused, listening to the other side. “Sir, if I may? Miami and Buffalo are right here sir. Yes, that’s right, I’m lookin’ right at Miami and Buffalo is just down the way. Some greenie bullshit, we couldn’t take the fuel off them. Yes, SIR! AYE AYE SIR!”

Wilcox put the phone down with a glazed look on his face.

“What the fuck Chief? What gives?”

“That was The Admiral.” You could hear the capital letters.

“An admiral? Which one? Old birch for brains?”

“No, ya dumbass. THE FUCKING ADMIRAL. You know SACPAC?!?!!”

“No shit? You said ‘greenie bullshit’ to the Admiral?”

“Fuck, I guess I did.”

That broke the tension a bit, nervous chuckles broke out in the small shack used as ops shack for the shore watch team.

“Gents, we got a fuckin’ job to do after all. I told you that getting those boats ready was worth the work! We are gonna get those three boats up and running and we are going to take them to sea!”

In an amazingly short time, the conversation went from incredulous to focused. Within thirty minutes, work was underway. They had been doing extra shifts for the past few weeks to make sure the subs were ready if called. The team at PSNS had expected calls to ready the reserve fleet before this, but no calls had come. Because each active submarine in the US Navy had two full crews, they actually had more personnel for submarines than they had active ships for them to work on. Something unique to the silent service.

Wilcox knew that there was one department that could make or break this operation: supply. If they could get the parts, food and other consumables they needed they could be underway in two days. If not, the project was over before it began. He went back to the phone and dialed a number he had memorized.

“PSNS supply, Cox speaking.”

“Well, hello Lee Rose! How are Neal and your two darling children doing?”

“Hello, Randy. You know that Neal is on the Ohio. I haven’t heard from him since the balloon went up.”

“Sorry Lee Rose, I thought he was on Gold crew and rotated off.”

“They were just working up when they got the recall.”

“Well, she’s a fine boat and Marklee is a great captain. Neal will be fine.”

“I’m a Navy wife, Randy. I know how dangerous it is.” There was a pause on the other end of the line. “What is it you need? You only call me when you need something special.”

The American Institute in Taiwan (AIT)

Taipei City, Taiwan

Because of the American “One China” policy, there is no US embassy in Taiwan. Instead, there is the AIT. There was no ambassador, there was a director. Similarly, there was no military attache. Instead, there was the “Chief, Liaison Affairs Section.”

The phone on Harrison’s desk rang. “Liaison Affairs, Commander Harrison.”

There was a very long pause.

“SIR! YES, SIR!”

Harrison put down the phone after listening for a full five minutes and looked incredulously at his office mate, an Army Major. “You are not going to believe this, Chris.”