Attack of the Seawolf

Von Brandt wanted to raise third platoon. The escape plan called for a man to crouch in the aft escape trunk and maintain communications between the sail and the men in the engine room It wasn’t likely the Chinese would anticipate commandos trying to control the ship from the aft end. More likely they would heavily defend the control room, figuring it to be the key to the ship. But if the nukes aft could get propulsion they could take control of the rudder, and with Lennox in the sail and communications with the walkie-talkies, Lennox and the nukes alone could drive the ship away from the pier. It was all up to third platoon now, von Brandt thought as he tried the radio, knowing that the VHF signal could not penetrate the steel of the hull but would be heard by the SEAL in the escape trunk.

“Stinky, this is Baron. You up?”

No answer. Von Brandt crawled back on the top of the sail to get a look at the aft deck. Still no guards on deck, but there was also no sign of Petty Officer David “Stinky” Welsh. Probably too early for the engine room to be taken, von Brandt thought. He climbed back into the cockpit and looked out over the forward deck. Still nothing on deck.

So far, at least from what could be seen from the sail, the operation had gone off as planned — until the armored column of P.L.A troops raced up the pier and screeched to a halt on the other side of the burned out hulk of the Udaloy. Four armored personnel carriers, three tanks and five units of self-propelled artillery began training their weapons on the sail while heavily armed P.L.A troops deployed from the APCs. Typical, von Brandt thought. He spoke into his lip mike:

“Stinky, if you’re up, we’ve got company, man.

Hurry the hell up with the nuclear power.”

Lennox popped his head up for a moment then dropped back down, his voice coming over von Brandt’s headset.

“Shit.”

“Deep,” von Brandt added, setting up to shoot at the P.L.A troops.

“Those troops will be opening fire any second.”

“What troops?”

“You didn’t see them on the pier? What’d you say ‘shit’ for?”

“The frigate astern,” Lennox said.

“Didn’t you see it? It’s getting underway …”

“Tanks on the pier, a sub-killing frigate started up and pulling into the bay. A perfect end to a shitty day.”

“Could be worse,” Lennox said.

“How?”

“We could have helicopters inbound,” Lennox said.

Van Brandt was about to agree when the sound of helicopter rotors sounded from the distance, the chopping sound beating out a death knell for the operation.

Lieutenant Phillip McDermitt was a red-haired, freckle-faced Irishman, slightly heavy for his height but the strongest in his platoon, leading his men in every physical activity the SEALs trained in. An Academy grad, McDermitt was single and known as a womanizer or a romantic, depending on the observer’s point-of-view. His radio handle was “He-She,” from an incident in Naples, Italy, when the gorgeous “lady” he had picked up for the evening had turned out to be a transvestite. Still hungover, he had told the story the next day, forgetting that SEALs have long memories.

The nickname had stuck ever since, in spite of his move from the west coast to the east. Before his arrival at SEAL Team Seven a phone call had been received at Black Bart’s desk informing them that Lieutenant Phillip McDermitt was to be addressed properly. When he first reported to Morris’s office, in dress blues, at rigid attention, Morris had smiled and said, “Welcome aboard, He-She.” McDermitt had cursed but taken it like a man. He had no choice.

McDermitt was the first SEAL down the hatch of the aft escape trunk after Morris shot the Chinese guard who had been lying in ambush inside. McDermitt dropped the five feet to the bottom of the spherical escape trunk without using the ladder, his feet coming to rest on the body of the Chinese guard. For a moment he considered dropping the body inside the ship to see if it drew fire but decided against that, pushing the body aside with his foot, making sure the hatch to the deck below was clear. His chief, Lyie “Padre” Gerald, landed next to him as McDermitt tossed the grenade down to the deck and immediately began to climb down the ladder. A second later the grenade exploded.