The Hammer of God

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The Big Stick

Seaman First Class Orville Hayes was weary and bleary-eyed. He had stayed up all night studying for his petty officer exam. Still, he reported for duty as starboard fantail lookout at dawn. As he scanned the horizon for anything that wasn’t wet or blue, he swore that as soon as his watch was over he’d hit the bunk and catch some heavy ‘z’ instead of attending the steel beach picnic the crew had planned for tonight.

At first, he panned right over it…then he swept back. He rolled through the focus of his Nikon binocs and, when the image was sharp, he saw that there was something out there. He flipped down his polarizing sunglasses and saw the bouncing bow of a zodiac type boat. No, wait, two zodiac boats heading right at the “Big Stick” right out of the wash of the rising sun reflecting off the inky blue waters of the Persian Gulf. He pressed his chest-mounted, sound-powered microphone and reported to the captain of the watch.

“Sir, this is starboard fantail. I have two bogeys, surface craft, incoming direct vector. I make them to be zodiac type, sir.”

“Roger that, starboard.”

A claxon horn sounded, and the P.A. system called for “Force Protection.” This was a call to stations just shy of battle stations, in which the known threat was not a heavy displacement surface or submerged ship or an airborne intruder like a plane or missile.

Immediately, the radio shack started hailing a warning on all frequencies and in many Gulf languages. “Craft approaching U.S. warship. Turn away or you will be fired upon. Repeat: turn away or you will be fired upon.” Ten guns up and down the side of the “Big Stick” took a bead on the incoming boats. The mostly-rubber crafts were essentially impervious to sonar or surface radar scan. So Orville used the low-tech triangulator and read the distance as 700 yards out. He started broadcasting the distance in 50-yard intervals.

Out of the corner of his eye the U.S.S. Donald Cook, a guided missile destroyer, was making full-steam to intercept and shield the “Big Stick” in a potentially self-sacrificial gesture, but Orville’s time/distance calculations told him they’d never beat the fast, low-slung zodiacs. At 600 yards out, the order was given to fire one across their bow. The auto-loading five-inch gun on the Cook punched out a round that flew like a line drive and exploded in the water 100 yards ahead of the two on-rushing craft. It did not deter them or cause them pause.

“Sir, bogeys are not veering away.”

“All starboard guns: train on incoming boats and await my order to fire.”

The Officer of the Watch turned to the captain of the ship, Commander Wes Halbrook, who had just made it to the bridge. “No response to hailing; they have not changed course and are heading straight in.”

“Weapons loose, Captain. Boatswain, make sure we are running tape.”

“Roger that, Commander.”

“All guns, weapons are free. Fire at 500 yards.”

All there was to do now was watch and hope that maybe these guys would turn away. But they didn’t.

Orville winced as Cook’s five-inch gun and the 20 mm PHALANX Gatling gun auto-cannon, amidships, opened up as the ocean 496 yards away went up into a wall of blue water, white steam, and orange flame. Then something happened that scared the crap out of him and the better part of the 5,500 men and women who were the crew of “the Big Stick,” U.S.S. Theodore Roosevelt. A siren and an automated P.A. announcement tore across the ship and flight deck.

“Nuclear Radiation Detected. Take appropriate measures. Nuclear Radiation Detected. Take appropriate measures.”

Instantly, sprinkler heads started washing down the flight deck and superstructure of the ship. Everyone scrambled to get inside. Orville slid down the railings outside the ladder rungs like a trapeze artist and scurried onto the deck, closing and sealing the hatch behind him.

Bill’s government phone went off as he was leaving his office.

It was Li. “I just got another spike.”

Bill grabbed a pencil as he swung back around his desk. “What’s the location?”

“Persian Gulf.”

“What country?”

“No, in the Gulf. In the middle.”

“Do you know what it was?”

“No, just a radiation event. Not small, but not mega-tonnage either.”

“Like a suitcase nuke?”

“Possibly.”

“Thanks. Keep me updated.”

Bill ran out of the office and barged into a meeting of Ray’s. “Li called with another spike” was all he had to say to get Ray’s full attention.

“My God, where?”

Six minutes later, Hiccock, Reynolds, and the President were being briefed by the Secretary of the Navy.