Phantom Force (The USS Cunningham Quintet Book 5), page 1
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue to Conflict
Part One: Initiation of Engagement
0043 Hours; Zone time, September 10, 2008
0543 Hours; Zone Time, September 12, 2008
0231 Hours; Zone Time, September 13, 2008
1402 Hours; Zone Time, September 15, 2008
1435 Hours; Zone Time, September 17, 2008
Part Two: Convergence of Forces
0631 Hours; Zone Time, September 18, 2008 Somewhere within the Moluku Island Group The Indonesian Archipelago
0631 Hours; Zone Time, September 18, 2008 Joseph Bonaparte Bay The North Coast of Australia
0631 Hours; Zone Time; September 18, 2008 Lake Toba, North Sumatra Province, The Island of Sumatra, Indonesia
1931 Hours; Zone Time; September 19, 2008
1551 Hours; Zone Time, September 21, 2008
1021 Hours; Zone Time, September 24, 2008
2303 Hours; Zone Time, September 24, 2008
2315 Hours; Zone Time, September 24, 2008
2330 Hours; Zone Time, September 24, 2008
2335 Hours; Zone Time, September 24, 2008
0058 Hours; Zone Time, September 25, 2008
1920 Hours; Zone Time, September 30, 2008
2323 Hours; Zone Time, Oct 2, 2008
0756 Hours; Zone Time, October 4, 2008
0551 Hours; Zone Time, October 7, 2008
0900 Hours; Zone Time, October 9, 2008
2010 Hours; Zone Time, October 9, 2008
2310 Hours; Zone Time, October 9, 2008
0222 Hours; Zone Time, October 10, 2008
2344 Hours; Zone Time, October 14, 2008
1005 Hours; Zone Time, October 16, 2008
1010 Hours; Zone Time, October 19, 2008
Part Three: First Contact
1312 Hours; Zone Time, September 19, 2008
1737 Hours; Zone Time, October 22, 2008
2257 Hours; Zone Time, October 23, 2008
0702 Hours; Zone Time, October 24, 2008
2210 Hours; Zone Time, October 24, 2008
2210, Hours; Zone Time, October 24, 2008
2340 Hours; Zone Time; October 24, 2008
1200 Hours; Zone Time, October 25, 2008
1743 Hours; Zone Time, October 25, 2008
1818 Hours; Zone Time, October 25, 2008
2150 Hours; Zone Time, October 25, 2008
1846 Hours; Zone Time, October, 24, 2008
2230 Hours; Zone Time, October 25, 2008
0050 Hours; Zone Time, October 26, 2008
0334 Hours; Zone Time, October 26, 2008
0634 Hours. Zone Time, October 26, 2008
0535 Hours; Zone Time, October 28, 2008
1334 Hours; Zone Time, October 28, 2008
Late October, 2008
1210 Hours; Zone Time, October 29, 2008 The MV Galaxy Shenandoah Off the Northeastern Coast of Madura Island
1210 Hours; Zone Time, October 29, 2008 Singaraja Harbor The Northern Coast of Bali
1215 Hours; Zone Time, October 29, 2008
1250 Hours; Zone Time, October 29, 2008 Singaraja Port
Part Four: Primary Conflict Initiated
1127 Hours; Zone Time, October 29, 2008
1250 Hours; Zone Time, October 29, 2008 Pointman Base The American Embassy, Jakarta
2000 Hours. Zone Time, October 29, 2008
2210 Hours; Zone Time, October 29, 2008
0012 Hours; Zone Time, October 30, 2008
0122 Hours; Zone Time, October 29, 2008
0025 Hours; Zone Time, October 30, 2008
0010 Hours; Zone Time, October 30, 2008
0941 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008
1200 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008
2220 Hours: Zone Time, October 31, 2008
2303 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008
2305 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008
2315 Hours, Zone Time, October 31, 2008
2323 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008
2331 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008
2338 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008
2340 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008
2344 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008
2346 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008 The United States Embassy, Jakarta
2345 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008 Drone Control Center, USS Shenandoah
2345 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008 Landing Force Operations Center, USS Shenandoah
2346 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008 Ancol (Dream) Park, Jakarta
2346 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008 Sky Island Alpha, Jakarta
2348 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008
2349 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008 Landing force Operations Center, USS Shenandoah
2349 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008 The US Embassy Compound, Jakarta
2349 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008 Gambir Train Station, Merdeka Square
2349 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008 The Landing Force Operations Center, USS Shenandoah
2358 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008
0002 Hours; Zone Time, November 1, 2008
0031 Hours; Zone Time, December 1, 2008
0848 Hours; Zone Time, October 1, 2008
1415 Hours; Zone Time, November 1, 2008
2155 Hours; Zone Time, December 1, 2008
1832 Hours; Zone Time, December 2, 2008
1910 Hours; Zone Time, December 2, 2008
2233 Hours, Zone Time, November 2, 2008
0024 Hours; Zone Time, December 3, 2008
0452 Hours; Zone Time, November 5, 2008
1200 Hours; Zone Time, November 6, 2008
2035 Hours; Zone Time, November 8, 2008
1523 Hours; Zone Time, November 10, 2008
0901 Hours; Zone Time, November 12, 2008
0716 Hours; Zone Time, November 14, 2008
0654 Hours; Zone Time; November 16, 2008
1523 Hours; Zone Time, November 18, 2008
0939 Hours; Zone Time, November 19, 2008 The Joint Intelligence Center, USS Shenandoah
0939 Hours; Zone Time, November 19, 2008 Banda Aceh Fleet Base
1129 Hours; Zone Time, November 19, 2008
1425 Hours, Zone Time: November 19, 2008
1427 Hours; Zone Time, November 19, 2008
2219 Hours; Zone Time, November 19, 2008
2340 Hours; Zone Time, November 19, 2008
00014 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
0602 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
1000 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
1912 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
1930 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
1941 Hours, Zone Time, November 20, 2008
2010 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
2015 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
2247 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
2248 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
2250 Hours, Zone Time, November 20, 2008
2300 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
2312 Hours: Zone Time 2008
2322 Hours; Zone Time, November 20 2008
2324 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
2334 Hours, Zone Time, November 20, 2008
0002 Hours; Zone Time, November 21, 2008
0034 Hours; Zone Time, November 21, 2008
0512 Hours, Zone Time, November 21, 2008
Disengagement of Forces
1000 Hours; Zone Time, November 23, 2008
0850 Hours, Zone Time, November 24, 2008
1815 Hours; Zone Time, November 23, 2008
West on 66
About the Author
Copyright
Phantom Force
James H. Cobb
SILVERTAIL BOOKS • London
Dedicated to the merchant mariners and the merchant fleets of the world, the red corpuscles in the flowing blood of civilization
Prologue to Conflict
A snowflake falls on a suitable slope, another follows, and then another. The snow pack thickens. The cornices mass. Pressure and instability increase.
A kind of ambience may ensue for a time, the disaster held at bay for another day, another hour. But inevitably, inescapably, there falls that one last snowflake too many.
The great wars of human history frequently begin in the same way. Rarely is there a single cause or triggering event. Rather, like a mountain avalanche, there is an accumulation building to catastrophe.
Part One
Initiation of Engagement
Port Aiduna Station
Irian Jaya (Indonesian New Guinea)
0043 Hours; Zone time, September 10, 2008
There is truth in the belief that things can be “too quiet”, especially in the jungle.
Like the sea, the jungle is an all-inclusive environment. Any disruption within it radiates outward among the millions of living organisms that make up its existence. The night birds cease their singing, the animals huddle unmoving in their hides, and the myriad of crawling, creeping, chittering things go silent in the darkness.
Captain Baktiar Rajamala of the Indonesian army knew about such silences. From his position in the main gate watchtower, he swept his night glasses across the forest line a quarter of a kilometer beyond the perimeter fence. He saw nothing, but he knew they were out there, lurking in the shelter of the undergrow
Captain Rajamala’s lip curled in contempt. Filthy savages! Hadn’t Indonesia driven out the damned Dutch, freeing the Papuans from the tyranny of European Colonialism? Hadn’t Jakarta taken Irian Jaya and its Stone Age peoples under its wing, seeking to administer its mineral wealth for the betterment of all? Couldn’t these black monkeys understand that it was for their own good?
Apparently not, for the ingrates had raised their Morning Star flag, arrogantly demanding a plebiscite on the annexation of their island by Indonesia and calling for independence. As if these Stone Age barbarians were capable of caring for themselves in the modern world.
Totally unaware of the irony of his thoughts, the Javanese-born officer continued his visual sweep around the port facilities, panning his binoculars across the administration complex and the barracks of the security garrison. Beyond the buildings, glowing an evil murky green under the glare of the work arcs, were the settling ponds for the copper slurry brought down by pipeline from the mines deep in the Maoke mountain range.
Farther to seaward, the lights of the loading jetty extended into the bay. Clustered at its shoreside were the dwellings of the two thousand Javanese workers and their families brought in to service the port and the ore handling facilities.
Putting the residential area so near the pier had been a mistake as far as Captain Rajamala was concerned. It caused no end of trouble for the Army security force. The damned lazy transmigrasi kept trying to stow away on the ore transports. Those peasants had yet to get it through their heads that Irian Jaya was their home now and this was their new life. Jakarta had made the decision and that was an end to it. Like the Morning Stars, they seemed incapable of understanding that this was for their own good and the betterment of the nation.
The garrison commander lowered his glasses, letting them hang from the strap around his neck. All was as it should be. And why not? Captain Rajamala prided himself on keeping a tight camp. Port Aiduna had been ringed by an eight-foot high electrified and sensor-studded barbed wire fence. Automatic weapons mounted in watchtowers like this one covered every inch of the perimeter and banks of floodlights blasted the darkness with their glare.
True, it was more corporate security than a real military defense, but then the Free Papuan Militia had little more than machetes and shotguns to fight with.
Still, what did the Asmat tribesmen call this place? “The Land of Lapping Death”, wasn’t it?
Captain Rajamala hesitated for a moment then reached for the tower’s field phone. He would declare a “mad minute” and have the duty gunners hose down the tree line, just in case.
But before he could lift the receiver, a series of hollow metallic coughs sounded from somewhere out in the darkness.
The first mortar salvo, precisely targeted, took out the power station transformers. Disrupted electricity arced and blazed, the compound was engulfed in darkness. Swiftly, the Papuan mortarmen swung their tubes to bear on their next pre-registered target. A storm of 81mm rounds rained down on the garrison barracks, blasting and slaying.
At the edge of the forest, orange backflashes silhouetted the areca palms as recoilless rifles barked, their shells sequentially demolishing the spindle-legged perimeter gun towers.
Captain Rajamala’s last living action was to stab a thumb down on the alarm button, an act of futility as the power failure had silenced the sirens. Then the platform atop the main gate tower took a direct hit, bursting like a fiery balloon.
Papuan warriors poured out of the forest line, some clad in the black uniform of the Free Papuan Militia, others naked save for their ammunition belts. The majority of them carried modern assault rifles and grenade launchers. Screaming battle cries older than civilization, they charged the collapsing colony defense line.
The Village of Anak Agung Barong,
The Island of Bali, Indonesia
0543 Hours; Zone Time, September 12, 2008
Bali has been called “the Land of Ten Thousand Temples.” This is erroneous, for in truth there were over fifty thousand temples scattered over the island. They could be found in the mountains and on the ocean shores, along the roads and byways, in the cities, towns and villages. Even the smallest and most humble of communities had its shrines to the Trisaki, the three primary manifestations of Sang Hyang Widhi, the One God who rules all.
For the Balinese did not merely follow or prescribe to their unique form of the Hindu religion, the Agama Tirta (the Science of the Holy Water), as much as they lived it. They shared their island with their Gods. They stood ever at one’s shoulder and were intertwined into every facet of daily living. Every tree, every stone, every living thing of Bali held its guardian spirit which, in turn, was but a glittering fragment of the One God, a thread in a great, ancient and all-encompassing tapestry.
This was the essential, universal truth of the Balinese people. It had given them the strength to survive as an isolated Hindu island amid a frequently hostile sea of Muslim fundamentalism. It had given them the endurance to live through centuries of European Colonialism and decades of oppressive Javanese administration and yet remain unique.
Each Balinese village had three obligatory temples, each representing one of the primary holy manifestations. Dedicated to Vishnu the Preserver, the pura puseh, the “navel temple”, was located in the center of the village and served as the shrine around which the community grew.
To the north was the pura desa, the “village temple” dedicated to Brahma the Creator. Here, the everyday matters of the village were dealt with and the village’s ritual feasts and celebrations were held.
To the south was the pura dalem, the temple of Shiva the Destroyer and his consort Durga. In many ways, the Balinese Hindu hold this the most critical of the three. Vishnu and Brahma deal in life, creation and growth, beneficial affairs. Shiva rules on matters involving death, destruction and damnation. The prudent individual assuages him first and earnestly endeavors to stay in his favorable lights.
Taman Karangasem was the pemangku of the village of Anak Angung Garong’s pura dalem, the lay priest who maintained the little temple and who officiated at its routine, day in and day out ceremonies. In marked contrast to the grim visage Shiva presented to his worshippers, Karangasem was a genial, kindly man, deeply involved in the welfare of his village and much admired and respected in return.
Middle-aged, graying and stocky for a Balinese, he strode down the forested path to his temple, savoring the hint of early morning cool. For the moment he was clad in the simple wraparound sarung and sandals of a common villager. He would shift into his more elaborate ceremonial garb later in the morning to deal with his religious duties. For now he had the more plebian tasks of cleaning and maintenance to deal with.
The pedanda, the high priests of the Balinese religious cast, sometimes disdainfully referred to the village temple keepers as “sweepers” – but Karangasem took no offense at the name. If the One God could be honorably served by wielding a broom then he was proud to do so. Humming softly to himself, he rounded the corner of the stone temple wall and passed through the open and elaborately carved split gate that led to the outer courtyard.
Abruptly, his tune trailed off. Across the flagstones, the main doors to the inner courtyard, the Jerone, the “holy of the holiest” stood open as they should never be, save for when a ritual was in progress.
Sandals slapping, Karangasem raced across the courtyard. Theft from Balinese temples was not unknown. Carvings and art objects were stolen for sale overseas or to the tourist shops. Also villages frequently would invest whatever wealth they might accumulate in gold and silver ornamentation to honor the Gods.
Such crimes were neither undertaken or responded to lightly. For a thief caught stealing from a temple, the sentence was frequently death, with the local police and the court system not being involved.
When he reached the door of the inner courtyard, Karangasem brought himself up short. It was worse than theft. Worse than he could ever have imagined.
The offerings to the gods brought to the temple by the villagers – the flowers, the artworks, the food – had been ruthlessly scattered and trampled across the court. The padmasana, the stone throne of the sun-god Surya in the upper right-hand corner of the temple yard had been tipped over. The deer’s antlers had been broken from the Maospait shrine that commemorated the divine first settlers of Bali. And the paruman, the pavilion in the center of the Jerone that served as the communal seat of the gods had been smeared with animal excrement.
