It was a dark night; the smell of salt was in the air. A Zumwalt-class Destroyer slinked through the water leaving a frothy ocean spray. The Destroyer was a patrolling through the coasts of China, watching, waiting for any sign of illegal ships to be deployed. At the foredecks was the commander of the ship, USS Arizona, his brown eyes watching the coastline. He was Commander Hughes, an ancient commander in the Navy.
"Commander, there's nothing here. Shall we return to the dock?" his officer asked.
"Yes, yes, of course," Hughes said turning around. For the past two days, the US Navy Command in China had heard of a secret Chinese Navy force. Hughes had been sent to study the coast, but had found nothing.
The Destroyer passed the ragged hills that they had passed so many times come to and fro. Hughes sucked in. There was nothing better than the smell of the sea and the acrid smell of smoke. Hughes nearly jumped. Smoke. Where there's smoke there's fire, he had always been taught. And his Navy teachers had always told the same thing. Where there's smoke in the sea, there's a fight between ships.
Turning to the microphone he kept by his side, he screamed, "EVERYBODY! BATTLE STATIONS!" As they approached the docks, they could see the scrap metal of destroyed ships and large raging fires.
"What the hell could've taken out Command?!" Hughes was shocked and nearly tipped over as something rocked the ship. A Chinese destroyer was firing on them and had already opened a hole that could have sunk the Titanic twice on the Arizona.
"Abandon ship!" Hughes screamed to his men. But it was too late; the last shell rammed into the Destroyer's fuse line and the Arizona sank like a rock. There would be no survivors.