Attack of the Seawolf

Lube Oil Vaughn had noticed the guards’ alarm when the first explosion had rocked the ship. For the first time in days, Vaughn felt a sliver of hope — a rescue mission had to be underway. He had kept a careful eye on the anxious guard, who seemed distracted enough to be overcome. Vaughn made eye contact with his reactor operator and electrical operator. Both men were obviously thinking the same thing, nodding at Vaughn knowingly. When the second explosion came, the guard was momentarily knocked against the jamb of the door to maneuvering, and without thinking, Vaughn launched himself toward the armed guard, wondering where the guard’s AK-47 bullet would hit him. The reactor operator and electrical operator were just behind him. The TO went low, grabbing the muzzle of the AK-47 while the EO came at the guard from his other shoulder In a crazy instant that extended into what seemed an hour Vaughn saw the guard’s throat coming closer, his fingers wrapping around it, the guard’s head slowly turning to look at Vaughn, his eyes registering what was happening to him.

Time seemed to speed back up as the force of Vaughn’s body impacted the guard. The guard’s head hit the wall with a cracking noise, Vaughn plowed into the guard’s chest, the man’s weight dragged him toward the deck. By then the TO had a grip on the AK-47 and the EO was pulling the guard’s feet up, dumping him to the deck. Vaughn saw the AK-47 barrel rising, then turning back down toward the deck-the TO had the rifle and was aiming at the guard. For the third time in a minute an explosion filled the room, the rifle-muzzle blast inches from Vaughn’s face as the TO fired into the guard’s chest. Vaughn’s ears rang as he pulled himself upright. He grabbed the AK-47 from the TO, ready to shoot the next Chinese he saw, when the grenade exploded below the after escape hatch. Not five seconds after they had overpowered the one guard, the other guard on the upper level had lobbed a grenade.

McDermitt shut his eyes for an instant after tossing a grenade to the deck of the aft compartment. It exploded directly below him, but it was a simple flash bang unit producing an incredibly loud explosion, a blinding flash and a roomful of smoke, but no other damage. Under the cover of the grenade’s smoke McDermitt came down the ladder two steps at a time, the other SEALs behind him. By the time the smoke cleared the seven SEALs of third platoon were in-hull and running from the impact point of the grenade.

Four of them bolted for the ladder to the lower levels, where a two-man team would clear the middle level and a second team would secure the lower level of the aft compartment. McDermitt and Chief Gerald hurried for the walled-in room aft of the escape trunk — the maneuvering room that was the control for the entire propulsion plant and would be a key space to secure in order to get the Tampa out on its own power.

As McDermitt approached the side-entrance door to the maneuvering room he saw the barrel of the Chinese AK-47 rifle coming down and forward, aimed right at him. McDermitt pointed his MAC-10, his finger tensed on the trigger guard as he ran toward the door and saw the edge of a head in the clearing smoke, and aimed for it … When the heavyset broad-shouldered man in black pajamas, black ski mask, black vest and black submachine gun materialized out of the smoke of the grenade blast Vaughn nearly got off a round — when he realized that Chinese guards did not wear ski masks, did not stand over six feet tall and did not have eyes as blue as the ones staring at him.

“Hold your damn fire,” the man’s voice boomed in a Mississippi accent, “we’re a SEAL team. We’re here to get this ship the hell out.”

Vaughn felt like hugging the commando, who seemed to be sizing him up.

“You the engineer?”

“Yes.”

“How fast can you start up the reactor and get ready to crank out power?”

“By the book, an hour, for you, the main engines at full RPMs in a couple minutes.”

The SEAL handed Vaughn a walkie-talkie and a Beretta pistol.

“I’ll be back,” he said, and disappeared.

“Have the scram breakers reset and latch all rods and pull,” Vaughn ordered.

The rods were already coming out of the core as the muffled sound of automatic rifle fire sounded from the lower levels of the aft compartment. The reactor power meter’s needle came off zero and rose to forty percent. The steam in the headers filled the space with roaring heat and the sound of the turbines whining at thirty-six hundred RPM aft of maneuvering was the sweetest sound Vaughn could remember hearing.

CHAPTER 20 SUNDAY, 12 MAY 1858 GREENWICH MEAN TIME

GO HAD BAY, XLNGANG HARBOR

P.L.A NAVY PIER 1A, USS TAMPA

0258 BEIJING TIME