The Kidd Incident

Andersen Air Force Base, Guam

NWU wear is authorized for commuting and all normal task and associated stops (e.g. stops at child care, gas stations, off-base shopping, banking, DMV and dining) before, during and after the workday.  NWUs are not a liberty uniform.  After normal working hours, NWU wear is not permitted while conducting official business, when business attire is appropriate and participating in social events.  Consumption of alcohol in NWUs off base is not permitted.  Consumption of alcohol in NWUs on base is authorized as promulgated by regional commanders.  The area or regional commander may further restrict uniform policies within their geographical limits regarding wear of the NWUs.

Male Officer
Working Uniform
Navy Working Uniform Type III (NWU III)

Everything about the press conference had been carefully staged. From the sight lines showing the wrecked hanger behind the podium down to the carefully chosen Navy Captain giving the briefing. Even his uniform, the green camouflaged “NWU III” uniform had been chosen to imply that the Navy (and thus the USA) meant business. Nobody in the press corps spoke aloud the irony of a Navy officer giving a press conference at an Air Force Base. They all knew exactly why they were standing where they were standing.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I am Captain Lawrence Black. I have a statement to make today and then I will take questions. Thank you.” Black looked down, consulting his notes. “The President of the United States has determined that due to the unprovoked aggression of the People’s Republic of China, it is no longer safe for civilian ships and aircraft to operate within five hundred miles of the Chinese coast. Therefore, we regretfully announce that all sea lanes and airspace within five hundred miles of the Chinese coastline is closed to traffic. Any aircraft, ships or other vessels in this area will be assumed to the hostile and will be immediately engaged by US and allied forces. To repeat, ANY vessel or aircraft in this five hundred mile zone will be destroyed. To prevent any undue loss of life, this order will go into effect twenty-four hours from now. I will take your questions at this time.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then the fifty reporters present started shouting questions all at once.

Phúc Yên Air Base, Vietnam

The unmarked C-20 USAF VIP transport flared out to a graceful landing at the small Air Force base north of Hanoi. A pilot car was waiting on the taxiway and led the airplane immediately into a hangar. As soon as the plane cleared the hangar doors, they began to close. Only after the hangar doors were fully closed, the aircraft door opened and a short set of stairs extended from the side of the small executive jet.

General Braverman, in full dress uniform and carrying a locked metal briefcase, stepped out of the airplane towards the waiting People’s Army of Vietnam (PAVN) General.

“General Braverman, welcome to Vietnam.” The PAVN General extended a hand which Braverman shook.

“Thank you, sir. I would like to formally convey the President’s thanks for agreeing to meet with me in this unorthodox manner.”

“Not at all, we agree that discretion is called for. If you will join me, I will convey you to the meeting site.”

As the two officers settled into the comfortable rear seats of the Mercedes limousine, the hangar door opened fractionally and allowed them to exit. They quickly left the base, heading into the jungle, traveling south.

Braverman was glad for the darkened windows and air conditioning. Even living in Hawaii for two years had not accustomed him to the humidity of places like Vietnam. “If I may say, your English is excellent.”

“Thank you sir. I received my bachelors from Stanford.”

“Yes, class of ’01 if I recall.”

General Tran smiled. “Ah, I see you are well informed.”

“Well, there aren’t THAT many general officers in the PAVN who are fluent in English. We took the liberty of assuming that you might be here today.” Braverman smiled and inclined his head.

“Indeed. And how does the Admiral find Pearl Harbor? I understand he has Halsey’s old office.”

“Touché sir.”

Tran shook his head. “Not at all. We are professionals. Simply professional courtesy. You and the Admiral are well known to us, of course. I simply, ah, took the liberty?”

Braverman smiled. He hadn’t been sure what to expect when the Admiral had asked him to make the trip. Normally, this would be a full diplomatic mission with all that entailed. Instead, it had been decided that it would be more productive to have the discussion be direct between the two military organizations. It was reassuring to find that professional soldiers were the same, wherever he went. Suprise was something you did to the other guy and you worked like hell to be sure you were not the one to be surprised. “How do you interpret the Chinese posture in the South China Sea?”

Tran’s expression became more serious. “Very provocative indeed. They wish to take our territorial waters. They have made it very clear that Hanoi is only one hundred and fifty kilometers from their nearest army units. This is not a friendly thing to do.”

Braverman shifted the locked briefcase to a more comfortable position. “Are you not allied to the Chinese?”

“We are all brothers in the people’s revolution. That is what the slogans say anyway. To be frank, China has strayed far from their revolutionary ideals. Now they seek to impose their will militarily.” He shook his head sadly. “Vietnam has to be pragmatic, we are a small country.”

Braverman had his own thoughts about the “purity” of either government but wisely kept silent. After all, the USA was founded by revolutionaries also. It was just a matter of time and ideologies that separated the USA and Vietnam. “Indeed. I am sure it is not a comfortable feeling.”

Tran glanced down at the case on Braverman’s lap. “And is it true, sir, that you bring with you an offer of military cooperation between my country and yours?”

Braverman could not help but show his shock at the very accurate guess.

Tran laughed. “I am sorry, I should not speak so lightly of such things. I will not ask you to violate your orders.” He sighed and overdramatic sigh. “You see, I am about to lose a very large bet with my chief of intelligence.”

44th Reconnaissance Squadron, Creech AFB, Nevada

Lieutenant Reeves monitored his instruments carefully. As an “Air Force Attack Remotely Piloted Aircraft Pilot” (MOS 18A1), he was responsible for piloting what everyone else on the planet called a “UAV” or “Drone.” In the Air Force, however, they were Remotely Piloted Aircraft (RPA) and he was a pilot. There is nothing more sacred to the Air Force than the idea that they operated aircraft and that those operators were pilots. That made him an RPA pilot as far as the USAF was concerned.

In this case, the RPA in question was a rare bird indeed. The RQ-180 had been a completely “black” project for years until the Iranians had claimed to shoot one down. In the process of proving that the Iranians were full of it, the USAF had inadvertently confirmed suspicions that the RQ-180 actually existed.

As a “low observable” aircraft, it was the stealthiest drone in the US inventory. While it wasn’t invisible, it was VERY hard to spot which made it perfect for today’s mission.

The brass had become increasingly concerned about Chinese troop movements in and around major ports like Quanzhou and Xiamen. While China had literally hundreds of ports, only a couple of dozen were configured to handle the largest ocean-going cargo ships. Both Quanzhou and Xiamen were relatively close to Taiwan as well. Reeves wasn’t sure if that made it more or less likely that they would be used to stage any sort of invasion, but his orders were very clear. His job was to get in close to the port facilities of Quanzhou and find any army units staging there.

In theory, this job could have been and should have been done via satellite. However, in practice, they were not getting the intel they needed from satellite sources. The Chinese had managed to knock a few satellites down in the run-up to the attack on Guam and the result had been large gaps in coverage. Because satellites were very predictable in their orbits, it was easy to simply time movements to coincide with gaps in the overhead coverage. The USA had routinely done this for years when the Russians had used satellites to track US Naval movements. This is why the timing of this mission was so critical. They needed to be overhead of the objective during the middle of the gap in coverage. This gave them the best chance of seeing something that they weren’t supposed to see.

While an RQ-180 was extremely stealthy, it could be detected by long wave “anti-stealth” radar. They had a few places they wanted to investigate but they needed to do so while avoiding the various search radars on the ground. They had flown in across Taiwan straight, going feet dry about a hundred miles north of Quanzhou. The hope was that the drones would be able to get in, get the intel they needed and then get out before being spotted.

“Come left to three two zero. Thirty seconds until we have line of sight to primary.” Lewis was officially the “sensor operator” but Reeves thought of him as his co-pilot.

“Coming left to three two zero.”

“Threat board?”

“Negative. Nothing but commercial radars.”

“Keep an eye out for civilian traffic. Last thing we need to do is t-bone some airliner.” The drone could operate at fifty thousand feet or more but had to be down lower to get the sharp images they needed today.

“Eyes peeled.”

It looked like the gamble of sending the RQ-180s in had worked. The Chinese SAM coverage had been focused around more “strategic” sites along with their air force. While the aircraft was “low observable” it wasn’t invisible and it could be detected if it got close enough to enemy radar.

“OK, panning right. Holy shit! Look at all those tanks!”

Row after row of tanks were moving down a major highway towards the port.

“Back me up here, is that G-1502?”

“Yeah, confirmed. Looks like they’re headed for Hutianjiao there.”

“Looks like it. OK, let’s get the heck out of dodge.”

As the pilots commanded the drone to turn and descend, a warning light lit up on the console.

“Shit! HQ-9 radar just lit up. Bearing One Niner Four” Lewis’ voice showed the real strain of flying combat missions held for the drone operators. Even if you didn’t have to worry about being killed, the stress of constant combat operations built up over time. “Approaching threshold.”

“Coming left, zero one four.”

Unlike a manned aircraft, a drone’s maneuver limits were based on the aircraft’s structure, not the frail limits of a human body. While an RQ-180 wasn’t as maneuverable as a missile, it was capable of violent maneuvers when necessary. In this case, sharp left turn away from the potential SAM site.

“Do you think they painted us?”

“I don’t think so, but we’ll see.”

“New radar lighting up. L Band.”

“Ah, shit.” The Chinese had touted their ability to track stealth aircraft via low-frequency radar for years. While this technique was not effective against larger aircraft like the B-2 bomber, it could use used to detect smaller aircraft like the F-22, and perhaps the RQ-180.

“We have what we need, let’s ex-fil.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right. Let’s see if we can thread the needle down there and get to the coast.”

“Roger that.”

Carefully, oh, so carefully, they maneuvered their aircraft back to Taiwan straight and from there back to the airfield on Okinawa.