[IC] OPTEVFOR JDF-1 [Naval][Ship-Based][Modern]

[Gunther]

Undisclosed Location in the Pacific Ocean

The US Naval Task Force or Joint Defense Force (JDF-1) is centered on the flagship, USS John F. Kennedy (JFK) with the USS Tripoli, USS America and USS Unknown Soldier (LHAs and Intell collection platform) within three kilometers of the flagship forming a diamond. The USS Wyvern (LCS) is positioned 3 - 5 KM to the rear of the USS Unknown Soldier covering JDF-1's six o'clock position. The USS Leviathan is the lead element posted 20 - 25 Km in front of the flagship. The USS Navassa Island, USS Lyndon Baines Johnson (LBJ), USS Hermes, HMCS Gander and USS Fenrir are picket ships posted five kilometer from the flagship between the 9 o'clock through the 12 o'clock to the 3 o'clock position forming an umbrella of protection against Air, surface and submersed threats.

JDF 1 formation

Aboard the USS America
Captain Krol sat in his state room going over fitness reports of the officers aboard his amphibious assault ship. A Petty Officer knocked at the door. "Enter!" The Captain commanded.

"Sir, Message from the Kennedy," the sailor announced handing a slip of paper to his ship's captain, then coming to the position of attention.

The Captain focused on the slip of paper as it took it from the sailor, "at ease, sailor." The sailor then slid his left foot to the left and allowed his hands to gather behind his back. The Captain read the note, All JDF one units, receive notification, Admiral Percy Dumas expired this morning due to cardiac arrest. Initiate succession of command per SOP. Captain Krol was taken aback by the brevity of the message. He looked at the sailor, "Was this message confirmed?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"You're dismissed sailor," the captain quipped. The sailor silently executed an about face and left the Captain's state room to return to his duties. Captain Krol considered the other officers in the Task Force, 'Cole Marshall? Too young. Tiffany Larkin? again, too inexperienced. Frank MacGregor? qualified, but a bit of an odd duck. You know how those submariners are. Rich Sinclair? John Phillips? Other than myself, the only other options to take over as Task Force Commander. Each of the other smaller ships in the Task Force are captained by Commanders or Lieutenant Commanders. The commander never mentioned who would be the next CO if the admiral bought the farm.

Aboard the USS LBJ
"Captain, Albatross five has cleared the hangar deck and is commencing ASW drills ten kilometers off our port bow, heading south," Commander Grimes informed the skipper. The commander of US Naval vessels can often times be referred to as Captain or Skipper even if they are not of the rank Captain. It is a long standing tradition aboard US naval ships to refer to the ship commander as Captain. In this case, Hank Matthews is a Commander, which is equivalent to a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marines or Army. That is the rank authorized to command a Cruiser or Destroyer. The smaller Frigates and Corvettes would have a Lieutenant Commander in command and the smaller missile boats would be captained by a full Lieutenant. The Lieutenant Commander is the equivalent to a Major in the Army and the Lieutenant is equivalent to an Army Captain.

"Roger that, Mister Grimes," The Captain responded as he sipped his coffee. "Any air contacts in the area?"

"No sir, only friendly. The JFK has a flight of four Lightnings up top for air cover, a few other rotary aircraft," the XO told his commander. Helicopters are referred to as rotary or rotary wing aircraft while others are called fixed wing aircraft. The F-35 Lightnings would provide an Air Control Mission (AC) in order to be able to respond to immediate air threat if one should present itself, than leaving the aircraft on deck ready to take off.

The Task Force blundered into destiny.

[Queen Raidne]

Mission Briefing:

Intelligence

[TheEvanCat]

The USS Navassa Island, Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean

If there was one word that could aptly describe the Pacific, it would be "empty." Save for the tiny silhouettes of the other ships in formation behind and to the front, there was nothing to be seen save for gently rolling water. The only thing to break this monotony was a tiny blip on the horizon. As it grew slowly larger, one could discern it to be a V-22 Osprey. The Navassa Island's Osprey, to be precise. Painted in Navy grey, the tiltrotor craft approached from stern with its engines full-forward. Its mission was simple, if not mundane: the Navy had been testing V-22s for carrier onboard delivery services to replace the venerable C-2 Greyhound. The added bonus of a tiltrotor was that it could extend delivery range to smaller ships that lacked a runway for conventional aircraft, and that was exactly what the Navassa Island was demonstrating. Carrying mail, packages, and other similar cargo, the Osprey began to slow down. It approached the ship, closely matching velocity, and its gigantic propellers began to swing upwards. Likened to a Transformer, the Osprey could change its engine position to fly like a helicopter. Now, the craft glided slowly forward to the helicopter deck on the battlecruiser where sailors stood ready to receive it. Seconds later, the wheels touched down triumphantly, and the rotors began to slow.

Lieutenant Commander Mark Flowers watched from a walkway, leaning suavely on the railing to see around the CIWS barrel blocking the view. The crew began carrying the boxes and equipment away from the tail ramp, stowing it away in the hangar where someone else would put it in storage. As they went, their uniforms flapped around in the rotor downwash and the wind, underneath colorful jerseys and vests so often dubbed "Skittles." Unlike the rest of the crew, their uniform pants were an eclectic mixture of anything they had lying around from NWU pants to old woodland BDUs. Flowers could even see an ordinance sailor wearing chocolate chip camouflage pants that had somehow survived from 1991. They scurried like ants for a few minutes before the Osprey was cleared to leave with an empty cargo hold. It would return half an hour later with additional supplies - one craft made this process slow, especially for such a large ship. Flowers was considering urging the carrier's skipper to let them use another helicopter for onboard delivery, but had so far procrastinated on sending an email. Ever since yesterday, his time had been taken up by a new operation issued in the wake of Admiral Dumas's unfortunate death at San Diego. Without an overarching commander, the individual commanders had to decide the raid on Baker Island themselves. Both Flowers and Captain Sinclair were unsure if that would go over well.

As the Osprey fluttered away, climbing heftily into the air with its giant propellers, Flowers decided that it was time to go inside again. Turning to open a nearby hatch, he found himself almost face-to-face with a mildly startled Lieutenant Commander Rodger Nixon. The wiry tactical action officer held a tablet in one hand and a stack of papers in the other, a pen stuck in his open left breast pocket alongside a pair of gold-rimmed aviator sunglasses that he so loved. The TAO took a step back, shaking his head with a grin. "I didn't realize we were playing rugby," he mused, eying the XO.

"Hmm?" inquired Flowers as he closed the door behind him with a squeak.

"Knocking me down for my precious plans," Nixon continued. "It's a power grab, I tell you. You're trying to take me out so you can be one step closer to lord and master of the US Navy."

"They denied me when I asked to be promoted to Cadet Generalissimo in college," deadpanned Flowers. "My dreams of world domination ended there. Besides, they said they'd try me for war crimes when I stole my buddy's Cheetos at a party. Get the whole UN in on it. So, naturally, I sent a note to the UN with a penis drawn on it."

Nixon let out a hearty laugh, himself a graduate of ROTC. "What happened?"

"It got intercepted by the OPFOR so I dyed his eyebrows blue at three AM the next morning."

"You should get out of the Navy and audition for those Dos Equis commercials, Mark," suggested Nixon as the pair began their walk to the CIC. "Make a helluva lotta money being the most interesting man in the world. 'He once boated around Iraq with a bunch of hot babes. He is... the most interesting Sailor in the Navy.'"

"Please," Flowers responded with mock exasperation while turning a corner. "There was one chick and she was a five out of ten. The hottest one there was that Junior Grade: Tim Walker. And I'm straight."

"You've told me this story, I think."

"Sure. Let's go with that," answered the XO before they arrived at their destination. It was a simple, unadorned hatch labeled simply with a stenciled "CIC." Underneath it in smaller print: "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY." With a mock curtsey, Nixon wheeled open the hatch to allow everyone in.

The CIC looked partially out of a science fiction movie. Consoles with display screens ringed the room, while a triple-screen wall display took up the forefront: center screen displaying the fleet's modeled location, right screen showing a map of the world, and the left screen currently occupied by a weather map that showed all clear, more or less. A long table with a modern-looking sand table adorned the center. At the edges of the room, several crew members sat in their chairs, talking amongst themselves while on watch - nothing to do while the operations officers came up with their grand plans. The other set of these officers - the CO, and the officer of the deck - were clustered over the table in the center, awaiting Flowers and Nixon. Sinclair, himself busy drawing with a grease pencil over a map on the island, looked up to see Flowers ducking through the small hatch. "Afternoon, Mark," he greeted warmly. "Did you see the COD flight come in?"

"Yeah, yeah," answered Flowers while he looked back at Nixon closing the hatch behind him. "Running smoothly. I know Anders has it under control," he observed, referring to the flight deck detachment's supervisor. "No problems."

"That's good. Anyways, Barkley and I here have devised a firing plan for Baker. It's going to be a whole fleet show," the Captain stated, rubbing his hands together with a triumphant clap. "We get to show off the guns to all the cameras. Maybe Congress won't scrap the Navassa just yet."

"I thought we were running on a platform of 'please don't mothball us like you did to that stealth ship. We're frugal, we promise!'" jested Nixon as he placed his things on the table.

"That's true," Sinclair answered. "But we have an opportunity to show off combat prowess. Now, this is something I dreamed of ever since I was a young Ensign. A good old fashioned, World War Two-styled beach landing. Complete with us - the gunfire support."

He pointed towards the situation map on the table. "Basically, we're going to park the Navassa a few kilometers offshore and let her rounds land on the bunkers. Distance and our countermeasures should be able to defeat the antiship missiles that they have dug-in."

"Don't forget that we have the LBJ and whatnot to help, and we're sharing BAMS data that we get from the carrier's drones. But we have the most guns so we're doing the heavy lifting," added the officer-of-the-deck: a swarthy, accented Filipino Lieutenant by the name of Ramon Sereno. "I've plotted a destination that puts us at a good angle for the majority of the simulated OPFOR's defenses, so our AOR is the biggest."

"So it's a small island," continued Nixon, taking over from the others. "Which means a few salvos and we're done. We're not sinking the damn thing: we have to leave some space for the Marine landing parties to storm the airbase. Securing the airstrip is a priority, because we don't want to send hypothetical Seabees out to rebuild it. By then, the hypothetical Chinese would have hypothetically sunk our sorry asses without heavy aircraft support."

"The amphibious assault ships should send out some LCACs with a few platoons of Marines to make sure the island is secure. However, that's my professional prediction. I have no clue what anyone else is doing," Sinclair said direly before shaking his head. Running a hand through his thin, greying hair, he added: "The Admiral couldn't have kicked it at a worse time."

"If we screw the pooch on this one," warned Lieutenant Sereno, "we show the government - the Navy, the CINC, Congress... everyone - that we're failed experiments. We need to be on our A-game."

"I'd ask for a morale cheer but that's goddamn stupid," quipped Nixon. A round of grins from everyone except Sinclair ensued. "Any questions, Mark?"

"Nah," answered Flowers while he surveyed the plans. "Looks good to me."

"It's barebones," observed Sinclair. "Kind of hasty."

"I don't like formal plans," admitted Flowers, not looking up. "They get all clunky. I prefer to leave wiggle room. This is fine."

"Then it's settled," Sereno declared. "I'll gather up the department heads and Commander Nixon can brief them."

"Okay, great," said Sinclair. He stood up straighter, coming back from leaning over the table. "Our operation is tomorrow at noon. Combat camera wants it picture perfect."

"They'll get picture perfect," Flowers proclaimed. "We'll put on the best goddamn show they've seen!"

[DeltaWing222]

It was a beautiful afternoon aboard of the USS Wyvern and Captain Cole was in his room resting on his bed in a moment of bliss. The waters were awfully smooth today and not really too much to do today... Might as well get up and check on my crew... he thought. As Cole stood up to walk out of the room Daniel waltzed on up to the door.

"Hey what took you so long Cole you've been in your room all day. You gonna sleep the rest of it away on a beautiful day like this?" As Daniel pointed around the hallway. Daniel looked bored out of his mind as he turned to walk away as if he knew Cole would follow which he did.
"Yeah on a good day like this... I don't even know what its like outside I've been in here all day." Cole yawned and walked on out following Daniel.
"So Cole what are our plans for today?" Daniel asked quizzically.
"Does it look like I know what our plan is? Might as well have asked Mackenzie that question..." Cole glared at Daniel.

The two of them walked up unto the bridge where they found Jake and Mackenzie bickering about how fast they need to keep pace with the rest of the task force. "Alright what are you two on about now?" Cole asked as he looked around the bridge.

Mackenzie looked back at Cole and commented sternly "Jake's over here trying to floor it again and he knows we are supposed to be in the back of the formation here!"
Jake chuckled and admitted "Ah come on I'm just having a little fun here."
"Well it might be fun for you but we are wasting fuel with you throttling us up to 50 knots!" she rebutted back.

"Hey calm down you two we have plenty of fuel for months to come I seriously doubt him flooring it in this thing would cause us to burn too much fuel." Cole jested back. "I really don't see why we would have to worry about this."

While this was happening Daniel walked over to Jake and asked "Hey can I try?" with the biggest grin on his face.
Jake let go of the joystick controls and handed it over to Daniel "It's fun man go ahead!" With that Jake gave off a laugh as Daniel then throttled up and started swerving the ship left and right. "Wooohoo! I haven't had this much fun since I started flight school!" Daniel let out a satisfied laugh as the ship rocked back and forth as he swerved side to side sending waves flying off both sides of the ship.

Cole grabbed onto his chair and held on while Daniel took over the controls. He glanced over to Mackenzie and acknowledged her "Don't worry about it, its just a bit of fun to stir things up. After all it's been quite boring around here." Cole gave out a laugh as the ship swayed back and forth with the waves.
Mackenzie just threw her arms in the air "I give up with you all. I'm going back to my station!" She said in an angry tone.

This continued on for a little while until a message came through. "Hey Cole we just got a mission objective. They want to preform a live fire exercise on an island." She printed out the report and handed it to Cole.
"Alright you two slow it down and keep it cool; it's time to get to work." Cole looked up and through the windows in front of him gazing over the waters at the small black dots on the horizon; At least the crew will have plenty to do now... he pondered to himself.

"Someone message Felix and tell him to get the mechanics prepared and ready." Cole continued enthusiastically. "We finally received a mission!"