Bubuk's designers had thoughtfully provided a small helipad over the stern, and this was the point of entry for the main SEAL boarding party-rappelling down a rope from a hovering CH-53. Reconnaissance had confirmed the presence of a handful of sentries on deck and around the jetty. They were taken out in just seconds after a series of stealthy bounds, followed by silenced shots from the SEALs' MP-5s. It took only a few minutes to liberate the crew from enforced captivity in the berthing areas, escort them to their stations, and get under way. Luckily, the Malaysians had allowed one engine to stay on-line to maintain the ship's electrical power, and in less than ten minutes the huge LNG ship was backing away from the pier, setting course to the north, out of harm's way.
Crossing the 12-m/22-km territorial limit, they passed a formation of fifteen AAAVs, headed ashore from Iwo Jima (LPD-18) at over 30 kt/55 kph. At the same time, a pair of AH-1W Cobra attack helicopters flew by, escorting the amphibious tractors to the beach. Ten minutes later, six LCACs from Bon Homme Richard (LHD-6) and Germantown (LSD-42) skimmed by, carrying M1A1 tanks and LAVs that would join the AAAVs, to form the armored task force that would take and hold western Brunei's oil production and storage facilities. It was less than thirty minutes to H-Hour.
Port of Muara, Brunei, 0100 Hours, September 21st, 2008
The patrol boats were going to be a problem. Captain Bill Schneider, commander of Golf Company, had obsessed about it for a week. His company of Marines had one of the toughest assignments of the entire operation. Dropped offshore in fragile, rigid raiding craft from Iwo Jima, they were to seize Muara's port facilities precisely at 0100. The sprawling cargo container port had the only wharf in the country that could accommodate the MPS ships, now standing by only 200 nm/366 km offshore. To deal with any patrol boats, he had placed Javelin teams in several of the lead boats, with orders to shoot first and count the pieces later. There was no time for such niceties as identification this evening.
Another problem was keeping the Malaysians from getting the alarm out on their arrival. The Malaysian communications net relied on almost untraceable satellite phones, registered with INMARSAT under the names of private businesses. Theoretically, the INMARSAT treaty prohibited use of its satellite channels for military operations, but the Eurocrats who controlled the system had stonewalled American attempts to impose an orbital "data embargo." International satellite telecommunications was a fiercely competitive business, and no Third World rogue state would ever trust a service provider that knuckled under to Western diplomatic pressure. But NSA technical wizards had provided the answer. One of the rigid raiders carried a compact, high-powered jammer that would disrupt cellular and satellite communications within a roughly 3-nm/5-km radius. Just enough to let the Marines establish a lodgment on the cargo wharf.
The raiders managed to get all the way to the dock before they were noticed. The two-man guard posts at the end of the pier were knocked out before they could sound an alarm. Within minutes, the Marines secured the wharf and a two-block perimeter of warehouses. They quickly set up strongpoints, anchored by a Javelin team and a light machine gun. This done, the young captain began to send out patrols aggressively, to determine whether the follow-on operation could start at midday. The patrols confirmed that the bulk of the Malaysian forces were dug in around the oil facilities and the international airport. Captain Schneider called Colonel Taskins in Bon Homme Richard's (LHD-6) LFOC, using his own secure satellite link. He recommending committing the reserve company at the dock, where resistance was minimal. This done, he settled down to defend his position and "hold until relieved."
BSB International Airport, Brunei, 0111 Hours, September 21st, 2008
Major Yasin had been wondering when the Americans would hit him, and was surprised when they had not struck the night before. Now he was receiving scattered reports of fighting at the oil production facilities and the harbor, but nothing in his area. At the request of his brigade commander, he released one company to head west to the oil fields. He was thankful that the Malaysian command had never authorized taking hostages or holding the civil population at risk. This whole affair was economic; pure and simple. This kept the battle honorable, though theft of a whole country still bothered him.
He was still contemplating the delicate balance of national policy and personal morality when eight HARMs, launched by AV-8s from Bon Homme Richard, crashed into his anti-aircraft and SAM positions, followed by a rain of GBU-29 JDAMS bombs. Before the thunder of the explosions had stilled, there was another more ominous sound. He heard the engines of heavy jet transports, growing quickly louder. As a stream of big planes passed overhead, he realized what was coming, and sounded the alarm. It did him little good. The 1st Battalion of the 325th Airborne jumped from an altitude of 500 feet/152.4 meters, putting them on the ground and into action quickly. Having been dropped with surprising precision directly on their objectives, the heavy weapons positions around the field, they took most of them within seconds of hitting the ground.
This was fortunate, as the second wave, the 325th's 2nd Battalion, was only five minutes behind. These troopers had the job of clearing the runways and taxiways so they would be ready for fly-in reinforcements. Within an hour, the whole of the 325th had flown in from their staging base on Guam, and the C-17A Globemaster IIIs were headed back for another load. For Major Yasin, his Staff College problem was over. The survivors of his unit scattered, heading south into the mountains, where they would try to regroup.
Seria Oil Production Complex, Brunei, 0120 Hours, September 21st, 2008
The AAAVs hit a beach lined with petroleum storage tanks as far as the eye could see. They immediately unloaded their cargo of Marines. The vehicles then sought cover, awaiting orders to move inland. The embarked company carried only shotguns and grenade launchers, loaded with the beanbag rounds. Malaysian forces had not done much to secure the field, mainly because if it went up in flames, they lost the very reason for taking Brunei in the first place. So they had decided to cover the east and west flanks of the field, as well as the access road running along the coast. They had never expected an enemy crazy enough to come through the oil-storage facility.
The Marines were pleased to see that British Shell had managed to evacuate its security and field personnel. Word of this had come down two days earlier, so they knew any armed men in front of them were unfriendly. A handful of Malaysian soldiers patrolling the area were captured and held in a POW pen on the beach. Somehow, few Malaysian soldiers had volunteered for guard duty amid hundreds of tanks holding millions of gallons of flammable and explosive hydrocarbons. The Marines rapidly moved south to get beyond the tank farms. When the company reached the fence, they used small charges to blow holes in the chain-link-and-razor wire, and then called for their AAAVs to come and pick them up.
By this time, the LCACs carrying M1A1 tanks and LAVs had arrived, and a complete armored task force was ready to chew up any hostile force approaching the oil fields. The task force broke into platoons with the LAVs out on patrol and the tanks in reserve. Now nobody could get within 3 mi/4.8 km of the production facilities without the approval of the USMC, or a really ugly fight. Behind them came Marine combat engineers and demolitions experts to defuse any mines or booby traps the enemy might have left behind. As expected, there were none. Unlike Saddam Hussein back in 1991, Malaysia wanted Brunei intact. The Malaysians were not interested in crazed revenge. After all, business was business!
Cargo Pier, Port of Muara, Brunei, 0600 Hours, September 21st, 2008
Colonel Taskins stood on the end of the cargo pier with her counterpart from the 325th Airborne, the American ambassador, and several other officers. They were all listening to a satellite hookup to Tropic Fury Joint Task Force headquarters at NAS Cubi Point in the Philippines. General Bear was on the other end. His gruff voice came through loud and clear.
"Ambassador, were there any problems when our team arrived?"
Ambassador Jacob Arrens's voice showed his relief over his recent li
beration. But he was a professional. His first order of business was report to General Bear about conditions in BSB.
"Sir, there is absolutely no damage to public utilities or facilities; and to the best of my knowledge, there have been no atrocities or other war crimes. It appears to have been a straight grab for the oil, plus leverage to negotiate for the Spratly leases next month. By the way, the gunnery sergeant of the embassy Marine detachment wants to talk with you at your convenience. He seems to feel a need to personally report in to you."
Bear smiled at the thought and replied, "Thank you Mr. Ambassador, I'd like you to put him on as soon as I can find a minute. Now let's try to get some real work done. Okay, Colonel, lay it out."
Colonel Colleen Taskins, USMC, swallowed hard, and took a second to frame her answer. In the next two or three minutes, the fate of her Marines, the prestige of the U.S., and the future of Brunei might hinge on what she was about to say. She had done her job, but now she was being asked for an on-the-scene assessment that would decide if Tropic Fury would begin its next, critical step. She remembered her first day as a plebe at Annapolis, a beautiful spring day in 1986. When she entered the service, women could not even fly in tactical squadrons. Now she was "in the loop." On another occasion, she might have frozen or been scared. But now, training and two decades of service took over, and her voice was clear and strong.
"General, we've taken all of our objectives, and casualties have been minimal. I've got less than ten wounded, and no KIAs reported as yet. The boys from the 82nd Airborne hit their targets as planned, have made the linkup with us from the airport, and seem to be in good shape, sir. Their colonel will give you his report."
The commander of the 325th spent two minutes laying out his situation, closing with: "Sir, we've received the aerial port group that PACAF sent us, and we're ready to receive the first of your fly-in-brigade personnel. I can hold what I have, and would love to get some help to kick these bastards out of here." The paratrooper colonel's enthusiasm was infectious. It was up to Colonel Taskins now.
"Colleen, it's your call. What do you want me to do?" Taskins had never heard General Bear call her that, even when he had been one of her more terrifying instructors at Annapolis. Now he was leaving it up to her.
Her response was immediate. "General, we've got indications that the Malaysian brigade that occupied Brunei has run back over the border, to link up for a counterattack with another Malaysian brigade. Sir, send me MPSRON 3 and their fly-in brigade from the III Marine Expeditionary Force. I'll get my people out of here, and let the professionals clean this mess up." She was ready to go home with her people. In six hours, the four ships of MPSRON 3 would arrive at this pier, and begin unloading.
Prime Minister's Residence, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, 0900 Hours, September 21st, 2008
The Malaysian Prime Minister was running amok, and he had not even left his office. The reports coming in from around his country showed a series of very precise and selective strikes by aircraft and missiles, as well as some kind of counter-invasion in Brunei. Like all English-educated men, he had been raised on the stories of how Field Marshal Erwin Rommel had planned to defeat the D-Day invasion in 1944 by destroying the beachhead before the end of what he called "the longest day." There were now fifteen hours left in his "longest day," and he needed to make the most of them.
He had already called in the Chief of Staff of the Malaysian Army, and had laid out his demands. The Americans had gained two footholds in Brunei. The first, in BSB itself, seemed to be quite robust. The other, around the oil-production facilities of Seria, was smaller--and it was now holding the only thing that he had cared about in the first place. The holder of those wells and facilities might still be able to negotiate with the new Sultan, who would surely follow this invasion into BSB in the next few days. Perhaps the right to negotiate the Spratly oil leases could be traded for the survival of the existing North Borneo wells. It made sense. The two Malaysian brigades were ordered to attack the Marines defending Seria and retake the oil field. It was the last chance to salvage something from this adventure.
Cargo Pier, Port of Muara, Brunei, 1300 Hours, September 21st, 2008
There had been little time for niceties like tugboats and fenders; the captains of the MPSRON 3 ships had just driven right in. Luckily, they'd caught the tides right, and were able to moor the big Ro-Ros with a minimum of scraped paint and bent plating. The stern ramps dropped, and vehicles poured out. A few hours earlier, the first elements of the III MEF's fly-in brigade from Okinawa had arrived at BSB International Airport. Riding in the same commandeered buses that had been used to block the taxiways and runways just twelve hours earlier, the first elements of the brigade were driven directly to the wharf, where they mounted up their M1A1s, AAAVs, LAVs, and HMMWVs and began to fan out across Brunei.
It normally would take eighteen hours to finish the unloading of the combat vehicles, with another three days to off-load supplies. But now everything had to be done sooner, because the Army's AWR-3 squadron would arrive in sixty hours, and they would need to use the same port facilities. When the Army mountain brigade arrived, plus an additional fly-in brigade from the 82nd Airborne Division, there would be a division-sized task force in Brunei. The concept of the operation was to rapidly build up a force big enough to overmatch anything the Malaysians could throw against the beachhead. So far it had worked.
The biggest current worry was the armored task force holding the oil facilities on the western side of the country. Colonel Taskins knew that Major Hansen's force was stretched thin. If she were the Malaysian brigade commander, that was the place that she would attack. She strode across the pier to speak with Brigadier General Mike Newman, commander of the units off-loading from the ships.
She came to the point quickly. "Mike, I think that we have a potential problem out in the oil-fields."
Looking up from his data slate, he replied, "How so, Colleen?"
"Sir, I believe that Major Hansen's task force is overstretched out at Seria. He needs some reinforcement and support."
Newman stood up, wiped his brow for a moment, and asked, "What did you have in mind?"
Her reply was again clear and rapid, "General, I want to move another company of infantry and the heavy weapons company over to the western side this afternoon. I also want to land the 155mm battery, and get some additional surveillance assets over to them. They can probably stand up to one or two counterattacks, but anything more could cause us real problems over there, sir."
"We're scheduled to relieve them tomorrow morning with a battalion landing team," Newman replied. Then he thought for a moment, remembering that this lady had never given him bad advice. "Maybe you're right." He turned to his operations officer and asked, "Harry, what's the situation on the brigade ACE moving down from Cubi Point?"
The Operations Officer referred to his own data slate, and replied, "Well, sir, we've got the first squadrons of F/A-18Ds and AV-8Bs down and dispersed, as well as some tankers. Two squadrons of MV-22Bs are on the way right now. They should be ready to start flying CAP and support missions before sundown."
"Tell you what, Colleen. Why don't you send the reinforcements over this afternoon, and I'll chop your whole ACE back to you to support them. Will that do?"
"Yes, sir!" This errand done, she headed back to Bon Homme Richard to make arrangements.
South of the Seria Oil Production Facility, Brunei, 1400 Hours, September 21st, 2008
Bill Hansen was grateful for the news he had just received from Colonel Taskins. He was already picking up enemy activity in front of his positions, but in a couple of hours, he would have twice as much force. He was also gaining powerful fire-support assets: 155mm guns, the Harriers and Cobras of the ACE, and a couple of offshore destroyers. This was what he needed to ensure his position would hold until relief arrived in the morning. Even better, his BLT commander was on the way, to take over responsibility for the beachhead.
Headquarters, Malaysian 2nd Brigade, South
of Seria, Brunei, 1415 Hours, September 21st, 2008
The two Malaysian brigade commanders had met to plan their defenses when orders to attack arrived from the Prime Minister. Both of the officers were British-trained and had no doubts about their duty. But both had severe doubts about the odds of executing this attack. The 5th Brigade, which had occupied BSB, had suffered scant losses from the Americans, but it had scattered, and most of the day had been required to bring it back together. Now they were expected to retake the oil fields, drive the Marines into the sea, and do it before dark. After the noon prayer, they spread out the maps under their camouflaged command tent and set to work, trying to organize something that might succeed.
The plan was for the 5th Brigade to attack directly north towards the sea, while the fresher 2nd Brigade would swing around to the west, to hit the Americans along the coastal road. Both attacks were coordinated to hit the Marines at 1630 hours, and would continue until the sun went down into the South China Sea. Reconnaissance indicated that they were facing two dozen armored vehicles and about six hundred Marines. All told, their two Brigades had over five thousand men, with almost a hundred light tanks and personnel carriers. The problem was that they could not use their artillery. The orders from Kuala Lumpur were explicit: No artillery could be used anywhere near the production facilities. Starting an uncontrollable oil fire would defeat the whole campaign. The brigade commanders drank a final cup of tea, wished each other Allah's blessing, and made ready for the last attack of this bizarre little war.