East China Sea
August 24
The deck of the USS Makin Island was bustling with activity. Aircraft—F35B Lightning fighters and helicopters, both attack and transport—were landing, long enough to refuel and rearm, then taking off again. All the while, crew were scurrying about in apparent frenzied motion, but in fact it was a well-orchestrated team action.
The WASP-class amphibious assault ship was large by any measure at 840 feet long with a beam of 106 feet. She was the newest and most modern of her class, the pride of the Marine Corps. She was the centerpiece of the Expeditionary Strike Group participating in this live-fire training exercise—a beach landing and coordinated air, sea, land assault. The training target was an under-developed island at the northern end of the Philippine archipelago: Mavudis Island.
Located about midway between Luzon to the south and Taiwan to the north, Mavudis Island was situated at the eastern edge of the South China Sea—a key factor in choosing this location for the joint Australian-Philippine-American exercise.
The first wave of Marines from the 31st Marine Expeditionary Unit was about to embark in their air-cushion landing crafts, or LCAC. Australian and Philippine troops, in much smaller numbers, were anchoring both ends of the broad landing beach. The American forces would land in the middle, supported by armored vehicles and Marine Corps aircraft.
Sunrise was marked by a naval barrage of five-inch high-explosive shells, fired from two destroyers at simulated enemy troop positions at the edge of the beach, where the white sand gave way to lush, tall grass, bushes, and trees. The battle plan had been developed during some of the bloodiest engagements of World War II and had changed little over the intervening decades, other than to accommodate modern military weapons and machinery.
The annual Balikatan exercises came at a fortuitous time, as it provided cover for the Navy to deploy two attack submarines plus a range of surface warships to the region. Soon, a carrier strike group would also arrive in the disputed waters, providing a significant U.S. military presence.
Today, the seas were light at about one to two feet, ideal conditions for the LCACs to sprint to shore and unload men and materiel. With aircraft darting across the sky like hornets buzzing around a hive, battle-ready Marines were gathering in the well deck, preparing to board their large hovercrafts. The USS Makin Island carried three LCACs, and today all three would be deployed.
There was hardly any roll as the amphibious assault ship moved through the water at a few knots, just enough forward speed to maintain steerage. The large door at the aft of the ship was open, allowing bright tropical sunlight to flood the well deck.
Sergeant Larabee led his squad onto the flat deck of the LCAC and into the personnel compartment. His men were the last to board.
“Hey, Sarg!” a Marine yelled to be heard above the echo of engine and propeller noise in the confined space. “Is it true the Aussies are cooking lobster and steak for lunch?”
“Yeah, man. What’s on the Barbie?” another Marine joked.
“Who cares as long as the beer is cold!” a third chimed in.
Larabee smiled. He thought of himself as firm but fair. Blowing off some steam was acceptable, maybe even preferable. Although today was only training, he knew that tomorrow it could be for real. A veteran of three deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan, Sergeant Larabee had witnessed death and destruction. He’d often dealt it out without mercy. With tensions rising between the U.S. and China, he knew they were practicing diplomacy through demonstration of superior firepower—and training.
“Everything you need, Marine,” Larabee said, “is on your back or your belt.” His comment earned a groan.
The engines spun up to a higher rpm, signaling that the LCAC was about to fly out on a cushion of air. The machine moved slowly at first, and then picked up speed as it moved down the long well deck toward the aft opening.
Larabee was facing toward the rear and had a clear view out a small window. He’d seen this view many times before. Although he understood the physics, it always struck him as odd that he could be on seawater within the ship, and all was normal.
A sonic crack louder than anything he’d ever heard overpowered the chatter and engine noise within the 180-man troop compartment. Instantly, a brilliant white light momentarily blinded him. But just as fast as it appeared, the flash was gone, replaced by the most terrifying image he could imagine.
A yellow-orange fireball filled the forward end of the well deck. Flame billowed and moved like a living creature. It expanded, chasing after him. Larabee felt his body pulling against his straps as the LCAC accelerated hard, the craftmaster knowing that survival depended on escaping the bowels of the ship.
As the seconds passed, Larabee was regaining his hearing. The frightening sound of steel bending, buckling, and failing was background to the explosions of ordnance. Now, the walls of the well deck appeared to be moving, and the ceiling was coming down, threatening to drive the LCAC into the seawater. And still the fireball approached, but not as rapidly as before.
Larabee was jarred to the side when the hovercraft collided with the steel wall, only to have the air skirts serve as a bumper and bounce the large craft back into the lane. Blackness filled folds between the pillows of flame that seemed to be touching the rear of the hovercraft.
And then, daylight! The LCAC shot out the well deck opening like a cork off a Champagne bottle. A moment later, the well deck completely slid beneath the waves as the USS Makin Island broke in two. The hovercraft slowed and turned, circling back to the churning sea where the two halves had sunk beneath the water.