Hotel California

(Author Note: Envisioning a future where having nukes is the norm.) 

 

BOLT 1-1 blasted through the blinding rain and 80 mph cross winds at 500 knots barely 1000 feet above the Bohol Sea. Every second he expected storm debris to spear his aircraft or a microburst to slam him into the water. Absolute darkness surrounded the stealth aircraft, except when lightning lit up the hellscape of black and gray storm clouds he was flying through to avoid even the slimmest possibility of a Chinese radar return. If he lived another six hours, he would never admit it to his squadron mates, but in retrospect, choosing a flight path through a super typhoon to mask their approach was maybe a mistake.

The four-plane formation of RAAF F-35 Block 4B Lightning’s were almost 300 miles into Super Typhoon Viring, which was pummeling the Southern Philippines. Their destination was the storm’s eye via the southern quadrants to avoid the worst of the wind.

Just behind BOLT 1 was a second four plane formation, call sign BOLT 2. The combined strike package had left hours ago from RAAF Tindall in northern Australia while negotiations in Geneva were still underway. Super Typhoon Viring had opened a brief window for Australia and its coalition partners to negotiate a cessation of hostilities. The delegation had been meeting in Geneva with the Chinese for the last 29 hours. The coalition’s goal was simply a return to the status quo ante before hostilities had begun.

The formation’s first tanker mission had been over the Ceram Sea west of West Papua. Their second tanker mission was 150 miles east of Surigao City before they had turned west into the outer bands of the typhoon. Once past Surigao City they had dropped from 30,000 feet to low level to traverse the Bohol Sea, using the islands on either side of them and the typhoon to cloak their stealth aircraft from hostile radar returns.

The time was currently 0417 local.

If the talks in Geneva did not produce an agreement by the coalition deadline, 0430 local, translated as 2130 hours the day before in Geneva, their mission, dubbed Operation WHIRLWIND, would commence. The coalition hoped a limited nuclear demonstration would drive the Chinese back to the negotiating table.

There had never been any question Wing Commander (WGCDR) Ron Wilson would lead the mission, the most consequential combat sortie in Australian history. He had been a part of the RAAF’s nuclear strike program since its inception in 2024, assigned as a Flight Officer to Luke AFB in the United States to study how the Americans planned, trained, and certified their crews and F-35s for nuclear missions. That’s where he earned his call sign, “Sauce”, for his love of BBQ sauced chicken wings. Wilson had stayed with the RAAF’s nascent nuclear program ever since and had literally written the RAAF’s nuclear strike manual.

WGCDR Wilson, flying BOLT 1-1, was leading a wedge formation of two, two plane groups. The lead plane in each group, BOLT 1-1 and BOLT 1-3, carried a single, large missile under the left wing, and an AN/AAQ-13 LANTIRN navigation and targeting pod under the right wing. Instead of a single large missile, BOLTs 1-2 and 1-4 carried a full internal weapons bay complement of air-to-air missiles, along with the LANTIRN pod.

A nuclear strike mission in this weather violated every safety protocol in Wilson’s manual. Which was exactly why he had argued for the strike to fly through the typhoon to ensure operational surprise. Nobody would realistically plan for defending against nuclear airstrikes originating from a typhoon. Only now he realized they had probably cut the margins too close and there was the real possibility of mission failure if storm debris swirling past them struck one or more aircraft. Just then a microburst pushed his aircraft down to less than 300 feet over the raging sea before he was able to recover.

120 miles to go.

The Australian Defense Force high command had gone all in to support the operation. In addition to the tankers, three RAAF P-8s bracketed the storm to the east, west, and south to monitor Chinese activity. A Triton UAV circled near the top of the typhoon’s eye over the Sulu Sea to provide updated weather information, and a Gulfstream G550 SIGINT/EW platform from the Surveillance and Response Group was running a racetrack pattern over the top of the storm just north of Sepanggar, Malaysia, halfway between the eye and their targets.

The navy had positioned frigates in international waters in case anyone had to ditch, along with the HMAS Sheean deploying several surveillance UUVs for an up-close post-strike recon. Two SAS teams were forward deployed in classified locations as a QRF if a plane went down on land with a weapon. And the ASD had deployed a covert SIGINT/MASINT team to Cam Ranh Bay to work with the Vietnamese and augment Pine Gap’s efforts.

The entire operation was being managed from an E-7A Wedgetail flying over the Banda Sea by Timor Leste with an Indonesian fighter CAP as escort. The Air Marshal herself was onboard the Wedgetail in constant contact with the government. She was waiting on final strike approval from the Prime Minister based on what happened in Geneva.

#

Wilson continuously scanned his LANTIRN screen and cockpit displays. His breathing stayed steady as he led the formation towards the failsafe point. He took a moment to glance to the side to make sure his wingman was still there. BOLT 1-2 was tucked in smartly, staying steady with the leader.

He had a few minutes of nothing but straight line flying and his thoughts settled on his wife and two children back home asleep in Williamtown. They had followed him back and forth between assignments, including two tours at Luke, staff jobs in Canberra, and three tours to Williamtown, home of the Australian F-35 force. He desperately wished operational security had not prevented him from suggesting she go visit her mother with the kids far from Williamtown when he had departed for RAAF Tindall earlier in the week.

The storm’s projected path over the central Philippines and then across the South China Sea (SCS) into Vietnam had pushed the four Chinese carriers and two Chinese amphibious assault groups out of the southern SCS and to the north and east of Hainan to seek shelter from the super typhoon, one of the largest ever recorded. The Chinese radar network and long-range SAM systems across their southern military reef bases were forced into hardened weather shelters or otherwise powered down and secured, and Chinese fighters had been redeployed north as a safety measure.

The clock on his display showed 0430.

He was ten minutes from the failsafe point. His code word once on station was “HOTEL.” If he received “ABACO” as a response he was to abort the mission. If he received “BALI” he was to maintain station at the failsafe until he received additional orders, or reached BINGO fuel – about a two hour loiter time. If he received “CALIFORNIA” it meant proceed to the launch point and authenticate nuclear strike orders (NSO).

He was personally betting on hearing BALI when the time came. He didn’t think there would be enough time for the Prime Minister and his National Security Committee to make a decision so soon after the negotiation deadline. They would probably still be in secure communication with Geneva getting a briefing update.

Minutes later his navigation system indicated he was coming up on the failsafe point.

Moment of truth, he thought.

“HOTEL, HOTEL, HOTEL.” He radioed over SATCOM. All the pilots waited intently for the response.

“HOTEL Acknowledged. CALIFORNIA. CALIFORNIA. CALIFORNIA,” a female voice he recognized reverberated in all of their headsets.

Hearing the voice caused him to flex his hand on the stick and shift minutely in his seat. The significance of hearing the female voice was not lost on WGCDR Wilson. The Air Marshal personally sending the code word was her way as the RAAF’s senior leader of taking clear ownership for the order to launch a nuclear strike on China. History demanded it. She was up to the moment. Now it was their turn.

He keyed the mic and reaffirmed receipt of the code word from Wedgetail, and received a “God Speed,” in response. He hesitated, trying to come up with a reply appropriate for the history books, but couldn’t in the moment. Instead he took a sip of water and radioed his fellow pilots.

“Hotel California confirmed. Everyone increase altitude to Angels Six and prepare for eyewall entry and NSO authentication.” He received acknowledgements, then silence. They were all professionals handpicked for this mission. Wilson was pleased to see there was no extraneous comments. All eight aircraft banked smartly to their new heading and elevation, putting the Philippine island of Negros on their right wing. His threat receiver was not picking up any radar activity, military or civilian. Surprise appeared complete. Flight time to the eye was 15 minutes.

#

Australia hadn’t been the first country to go nuclear. South Korea went nuclear after it became clear the Americans would no longer honor their security pledge. Japan, confronted with a receding American presence, a nuclear China, and both Koreas being nuclear armed, quickly followed. Further south, as countries realized the security landscaped was shifting dramatically, Australia, Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore all developed or leased a nuclear capability. Even Vietnam had revealed a newly acquired nuclear capability just last year.  

Unlike the China-Koreas-Japan nuclear standoff, the SCS countries had informally agreed to build a regionally-based nuclear triad, despite a serious trust deficit between Australia and Indonesia. Australia and Singapore, with their closely aligned air forces, jointly focused on air delivered munitions. Indonesia developed mobile ballistic missiles. Vietnam and Malaysia, recognizing their air and naval surface forces would not last long against China in any conflict, had focused on their small but highly capable submarine forces.

The single, large missile WGCDR Wilson carried tonight was an extremely modified JASSM-ER missile body redesigned as an air-launched ballistic missile. On the business end of the missile was a 50-kiloton air bursting hydrogen bomb within a hypersonic glide vehicle (HGV). The missile was designed to be lofted into a sub-orbital trajectory, and then the HGV would deliver the warhead at Mach 9 to detonate 1500 feet over the target.

#

The turbulence on Wilson’s plane dramatically increased. The plane shook so violently Wilson feared the missile would be damaged, then suddenly his aircraft exploded through the eye wall into the calm of the eye, miraculously followed by the other seven fighters.

“BOLTs one and two, welcome to the center of hell, glad you could make it. Commence circling the eyewall.” There were a few chuckles, an “amen!” and a clearly heartfelt “no shit!” over the radio in response. All the planes banked and started skirting the edge of the eye wall in the smooth air, the raging wall of the storm less than 500 yards off their wingtips as they circled within the 40-mile circumference of the eye.

Even knowing what to expect, Wilson was awed by the sight outside his cockpit and on the LANTIRN screen. The eyewall extended up out of view. Inside the eye the air was perfectly calm. Yards off his wing the most violent part of the storm churned in the darkness. Glancing up, he could actually see stars in the night sky, confirming pre-flight intelligence that the eye was well formed all the way to the top of the storm. All eight aircraft gracefully circled inside the eye, the only illumination being their engines, flashes of lightning in the storm, and starlight.

It was time.

Wilson shifted in his seat one more time and paused for just a second before toggling his mic. Part of him couldn’t believe it had come to this. He violently shoved the thought away and forced himself to concentrate on the mission.

“All aircraft, this is Wing Commander Wilson. Strike aircraft activate their N-CAR,” he

ordered, referring to their nuclear command authorization receivers. “Commence authentication procedures. Escorts take up trailing position.” Mic clicks were all he heard in reply as four F-35s briefly powered back and slipped a thousand feet behind them. The four aircraft in front each carried a single nuclear missile.

On Wilson’s cockpit display a small box was built into the dash. He flipped up a red safety cover and toggled the activation switch. His N-CAR powered up and searched for a signal.

At the top of the N-CAR a rotating series of six numbers appeared on one of two display screens. Below it was a status display, currently flashing “SEARCHING.” A status light was next to it, blinking blue. Below the two displays was a numeric keypad. To the right was a bank-style card in a sealed plastic grip. At the bottom was a card slot.

The status display switched to “RECEIVING.” Wilson’s throat went dry. Somewhere seven miles above him the Triton was relaying an NSO from the Prime Minster.

He went over the strike again in his head. The four missiles were targeted at the Chinese’s four most significant military bases in the SCS. Three were in the Spratly Islands: Subi Reef, Mischief Reef, and Fiery Cross Reef. The fourth, located in the Paracel Islands, was Woody Island. He had requested Woody Island as the Wing Commander because it was closest to the Chinese mainland and was an actual island which had a population of over 1,000, including Chinese civilians, although intelligence suggested the majority had been evacuated. If there was going to be serious consequences, it would be due to Woody. He didn’t want any of his pilots afterwards to feel the guilt or anger for what might come after their mission concluded.

The strikes had been calculated to send a message of strategic resolve and warning, while negating a key Chinese military operational advantage, while hopefully remaining below the threshold of a major nuclear response. Woody Island had been the sticking point in the planning due to the potential civilian casualties. The reefs were strictly military outposts. Ultimately the Prime Minister decided to include Woody Island in the target package.

Launching from the top of the eye of the storm meant the Chinese would probably not pick up the HGV’s on over-the-horizon radar until they were streaking almost horizontally out of the typhoon’s outer rain bands. The defenders would have no time to react.

The light on Wilson’s N-CAR switched from blinking blue to a steady green. The status display read, “NSO RECEIVED.”

Here we go, thought Wilson. Wilson reached out and grasping the plastic card, snapped the seal to release it from its holder. As he did so he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach which had nothing to do with pulling Gs.

The card looked like a typical bank card with an embedded chip on it, and a molded plastic grip on the end Wilson held. Wilson placed it into the slot at the bottom of the N-CAR. He waited for a new set of numbers to rotate onto the top screen so he would have a full minute to enter the code.

Before departure, each pilot had filled out a sheet for the operations officer. On it were two separate, six-digit numbers. Nobody on the mission but him knew his numbers. Those numbers had been coded into the NSO sent to his aircraft and were now loaded onto the card. Only he would be able to unlock and arm the missile.

Operating under the practice of something you have, something you know, he tapped in his first six-digit code, and the six numbers showing on the display. The N-CAR compared the NSO information embedded on the card chip with Wilson’s unique six-digit code.

They matched.

The N-CAR status light shifted to Orange indicating a valid NSO from the Prime Minister had been received. The targeting details were now automatically fed into the missile.

Glancing outside the aircraft to make sure the other aircraft were still with him, he saw the display now showed, “ARM WARHEAD?” As a safety measure, if he did not enter the second code for arming the warhead within ten minutes of validating the NSO, the N-CAR would lock the system and the mission would be aborted. It was a safety measure and a purposely included ethical opt-out opportunity. Any pilot could under Australian military policy decide he/she could not launch a nuclear weapon for moral reasons and refuse to enter the code.

#

Wilson’s wingman, Flight Lieutenant Smith, call sign BOLT 1-2, watch the plane in front of him bank in the gloom. He had three distinct missions tonight. The first was protection of his Squadron commander’s aircraft carrying the nuclear missile.

           

The second was to monitor the launch. As part of the lofted launch maneuver, Wilson would rotate the aircraft past vertical and to the right after separation and lose sight of the missile. BOLT 1-2 would track the missile via LANTIRN until it was out of sight.

The third mission was most important. If his commanding officer failed to initiate the launch for any reason; or he diverted from orders or tried to defect; or the missile suffered a pre-launch malfunction; BOLT 1-2 was to ensure WGCDR Wilson returned to base with the weapon. Failing that, Flight Lieutenant Smith’s highest priority was to destroy BOLT 1-1 and the missile by any means necessary. It was a brutal order, but it was WGCDR Wilson who had developed the procedures, and had personally selected Flight Lieutenant Smith to be his wingman tonight.

Despite the deep respect he felt for his commander, Flight Lieutenant Smith was absolutely ready to carry out his orders, because that’s what lieutenants did and his orders were clear – or so he kept telling himself. He tried not to think about his wingman’s kids or how Wilson’s wife had helped his wife get settled on base when they first arrived. To distract himself, he ran a system’s check on his air-to-air missiles and gun and maintained his position on his commander’s six, trigger finger lightly resting for now on the stick. He was ready.

#

Distraction swept away, his mind focused as only a fighter pilot could accomplish, Wilson waited. Soon enough, a new set of numbers appeared; he then entered his second six-digit code and the new token numbers. The status light went from orange to red. The warhead was armed. Per his own policy manual, the warhead would only be armed for 20 minutes before the N-CAR would again lock out Wilson and wipe the NSO from the missile’s RAM.

“All aircraft confirm receipt of NSO and armed warhead. BOLT 1-1 Armed and ready.”

“BOLT 1-3 armed and ready.”

“BOLT 2-1 armed and ready.”

“BOLT 2-3 armed and ready.”

“Copy. All aircraft NSO authenticated and warheads armed. On my mark initiate climb.”

Wilson banked left and headed towards the center of the eye. The other three strike aircraft banked with him, followed by their escorts. They had practiced this maneuver for two days in the simulator and executed it with the precision of a flight demonstration team. Wilson saw the eye wall rapidly fade away behind him in the pitch darkness.

“EXECUTE. EXECUTE. EXECUTE. Begin launch climb now.” He adjusted his throttle and pulled back on the stick. In a second he was vertical and he could feel the aircraft surge forward underneath him as he ballistically rode upwards on top of 35,000 pounds of thrust.

Eight aircraft flew in a perfectly vertical climb in total darkness up through the center of the circumference of the eye of the super typhoon. An outside observer would have seen eight comets defying gravity as long tongues of flame shot out of the F-35s engines and they rocketed towards the circle of starlight seven miles above them. The eyewall kept appearing in flashes in the distance around them at the edge of their peripheral vision from lightning in the storm.

Two miles.

Three miles.

Four miles. The circle of starlight above them kept getting bigger.

Five miles. All systems were status green. WGCDR Wilson and the other three strike aircraft rotated from a 90-degree angle to 75 degrees required for the launch.

Six miles. They were seconds from the top of the storm, and were nearing the far edge of the eyewall. A beeping tone in Wilson’s ear indicated he was near the launch point. His finger flexed over the trigger.

Seven miles. He burst out of the top of the eye at 600 knots. Above him was the Milky Way with its expanse of billions of stars lighting up a suddenly beautiful night.

The tone went solid.

“Firing! Missile away!” He smashed the trigger and saw the blinding light as the missile blasted off the wing’s hardpoint. His speed and loss of weight on his left wing caused him to rotate past 90 degrees as expected and lose sight of the missile. He heard the other Missile Away calls on the radio.

He rolled up and over to his right, then drifted down to the top of the typhoon, white wispy clouds zipping past as the meat of the storm lay half a mile below him. He looked left and right and saw the other three strike aircraft form up on him. None of them had a missile. Two minutes later they were joined by the escorts who confirmed four clean launches. The missiles were all on their way.

It was done.

 “SNOWBALL. SNOWBALL. Repeat SNOWBALL.” WGCDR Wilson radioed via SATCOM to report all missiles successfully launched. To himself he added, “May God have mercy on our souls.”

#

It wasn’t until the first homeward tanker mission that they received confirmation the missiles had all hit their intended targets. There were a few lowkey, “congratulations” and “nice jobs” passed between the tankers and fighters. Otherwise they maintained radio silence and continued south.

It was approaching 0800 local when BOLT 1 and BOLT 2 linked up with the final tanker mission. The mood of the second tanker crews was markedly different. The tanker crews informed the pilots China was threatening nuclear retaliation against coalition civilian targets for attacking Woody Island.

It turned out pre-strike intelligence was badly wrong. The Chinese had been using Woody as a staging base to support their Spratly Island evacuations. In addition, several Chinese cruise ships, numerous commercial fishing vessels, and one of the amphibious assault groups had sought safe harbor at the anchorage. Instead of being almost empty, Woody Island had nearly 40,000 people on and around the island, over half of them civilian. Grainy video of a massive cruise ship, half sunk, shredded, and burning uncontrollably, had already gone viral on the Internet.

After the aircraft were topped off the lead tanker pilot sent a final warning. “No word yet but be prepared to divert to secondary airfields. Tindall might not be there when you return. Good luck.”

The fighter pilots looked at each other and several broke radio silence, clearly shook up by developments, until Wilson ordered them to clear the net. The mission was not over.

Wilson considered everything that had happened while he scanned the wide expanse of ocean beneath him. This far from the typhoon there was not a cloud in the sky. The northern coast of Australia was just starting to appear in the distance. He thought it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

He pushed up his helmet visor to get a better look and just stared for a minute. Then slowly and with an air of great purpose, he pulled an eye patch he had been wearing the entire mission high on his forehead down over his right eye, set it in place, and after a few adjustments to make sure no light was getting in, lowered his visor. END

Map of Operation Whirlwind