Onboard HMS Daring, Taiwan Strait
IF THE OFFICER of the Watch had not had his back turned at that precise moment he might well have been the first person on the bridge to spot the brilliant flash erupting off their port bow. But it fell to one of the most junior members of the ship’s company to raise the alarm. Able Seaman Ben Collins already had his binoculars trained on the Chinese warships when he spotted the missile launch a full three seconds before it was picked up and tracked by the Ops Room.
There, the Principal Warfare Officer, the PWO, had to make a snap life-or-death decision. Was the missile a threat to the ship? Was it aimed at them? Was Daring or its accompanying vessels under attack or was this a warning shot across their bows? Because if the missile had been launched with intent to harm, the Ops Room had mere seconds left to react and activate the ship’s suite of defensive measures while the crew took evasive action. Royal Navy Rules of Engagement are classified but they include, in extremis, the option to open fire on the source of the threat. Underact and you put the safety of the entire ship and its crew in jeopardy. Overact and you risk starting the Third World War.
‘Air threat warning red!’ The voice of the PWO rang out across the cramped and tense Ops Room. It was followed immediately by his next urgent announcement: ‘Captain to the Ops Room.’ Under the subdued lighting of this low-ceilinged room, onboard the Royal Navy’s state-of-the-art air defence destroyer, the men and women in their dark navy blue overalls stared intently at the ship’s command system. To their alarm, Daring’s computer was generating a track making its way across the blue screens, moving at such a high velocity it could only be a missile. The track was red, indicating it was hostile. This was not a drill. This was real.
‘Missile – track 2500-350 one mile tracking north-east speed fast. Opening contact,’ came the announcement on the command open line, the COL, the main internal voice net linking all the ship’s key operatives. Then a second report: ‘Target is tracking right and opening. It is not directed at us.’ The PWO had made his snap decision. As he spoke these words there was a slight but almost palpable change in atmosphere in the Ops Room. HMS Daring’s defensive suite of missiles, chaff and Phalanx Gatling gun firing four thousand rounds a minute of depleted uranium shells were not about to be triggered by an explosive warhead hurtling towards it at supersonic speed. Those in the Ops Room who had been glued to their screens now dared to look up and exchange knowing glances. But a missile had still been fired in their close vicinity, an overtly hostile act, and they still had another eight hours’ sailing northward before they would be clear of the Taiwan Strait.
‘Captain’s on open line,’ someone called out. Commander Ross Blane, who had returned to his cabin minutes earlier, was now patched into the Ops Room. It was the on-watch Anti-Air-Warfare Officer whose job it was now to brief him.
‘Captain, sir – AAWO sitrep,’ she began. ‘Lhasa has just fired a missile believed to be a YJ-21. Now bearing 030 10 miles outbound speed fast and increasing. Closest point of approach one mile ahead so no direct threat. I say again, no direct threat.
‘Looks like a warning shot and deliberate provocation.’ The AAWO continued with her situation report to the Captain. ‘Have not deployed chaff or IDS300 Inflatable Decoy. We are now covering Lhasa with fire control radar. Rules of Engagement state this could be hostile intent but not yet a hostile act. Remaining weapons tight.’
‘Thank you, AAWO, and good work,’ the Captain replied.
Exactly twenty-five seconds later he appeared in the Ops Room. He had walked fast from his cabin, then slid down a ladder, gone straight to his seat and put on his headset. At the same time he addressed the Principal Warfare Officer. ‘PWO, Captain – any indications they’re about to fire again?’
‘None so far, sir.’
He nodded, then reached for the command open line to issue his orders.
‘All positions, Captain – this was a practice firing by Chinese ship, the Lhasa. There is no indication it has been aimed at us. Weapons remain tight. All positions, ensure maximum attention is on that ship to watch for any further activity.’
He replaced his headset and ran through a mental checklist of all that still needed to be done. Contact had to be made from the bridge to the Chinese warship via VHF radio and an explanation sought for their actions. He was not optimistic they would get any response. Then he needed to confer with the Task Group Commander, the US Navy rear admiral onboard the guided missile destroyer to their stern. And he also needed to alert the UK’s Permanent Joint Headquarters at Northwood, the sprawling base on the edge of London from where all overseas operations are run around the clock. From there, this event would be passed up the chain of command to the Chief of Joint Operations and on to the MoD and Number 10.
Commander Blane shifted his position in his seat in the Ops Room. It was going to be a busy few hours. They had just gone through one of the most serious incidents with the Chinese Navy that he could remember and they were not out of the Taiwan Strait yet. This, he thought, is how wars start.