by Stephen Makk
“Weaps. Launching tube one. Now. Fish in the water and the fish is hungry.” USS Stonewall Jackson turned to withdraw.
“Sonar. Two type 53s still in pursuit.” They’re in our baffles now. Both coming in high.”
“Weaps, stream the lure fish.” He was attempting to lure the torpedo away from the submarine.
“Lure fish streamed, Sir.”
The lure streamed by reel far out into the submarine’s wake and trailed behind, communicating by cable. On USS Stonewall Jackson, the lure was kept in a streamlined pod mounted on a fin high above and away from the propeller. It was a listener, a detector and a deceiver of any weapons tracking the boat. Lures were at the cutting edge of submarine technology.
The Jackson’s lure, the TB29/A1, was built by the high priests of underwater deception, L-3 Chesapeake Sciences Corp with input by Lockheed Martin.
“Weaps, dance the lure.”
In this mode, the lure attempts to confuse the torpedo’s passive sonar by emitting simulated submarine noise, such as propeller and engine noise, which is more attractive than the boat to the torpedo’s sensors.
“The lure’s dancing, Sir.”
“Active Sir. The first fish has gone active, it’s pinging us. It’s heading down towards us. Second fish is active too.”
Damn it to hell. “Planesman. Make your depth, eighty.”
“Sonar. Range, incoming fish now point five miles.”
“Sing the lure,” commanded Nathan.
THE LURE POSSESSED a towed array sensor to detect incoming torpedoes. It also incorporated additional active sonar decoys. It received, amplified, and returned ‘pings’ from the torpedo, presenting a larger false target than the submarine. The lure was transmitting these pings to the incoming torpedoes.
“The lure is singing, Sir.”
“Sonar. Range point two miles.” Nathan swallowed, closed his eyes and counted down. The adrenalin flushed his stomach.
“Eject countermeasures to port. Come starboard sixty degrees.” The crew leaned to stay vertical as the boat heeled hard to the right.
Countermeasures fell away from the hull spinning, blowing bubbles, hissing and emitting sounds of submarine propellers, seductive sirens of the deep. Come and get me boys, I’m all yours.
There were two loud booms to the port side as the fish went off. The boat moved unnaturally, thrown hard to the right. She rolled and wallowed in the turbulent sea.
“Damage control report. Return to bearing one fifty.”
“Sir. Pipe splits on port ballast line. We’re routing ballast feed through the starboard line. Back aft monkeys tell me fifteen minutes and they’ll have it fixed.”
The Engineers, the back aft monkeys, were hard at work.
The control room breathed again. Now twenty miles offshore, the USS Stonewall Jackson slowed.
“Come to two twenty degrees, slowly now. Speed ten knots.” Nathan tensed.
The boat turned to starboard in a lazy turn to allow the lure time to straighten out, where it would be most effective.
“Sonar, I want you to listen good to what’s going on at Sinpo. What’s our friend up to?”
Nathan unhooked his microphone.
“All hands. Rig for silent running, if a goldfish even thinks about farting out there I want to know about it. Sonar. Request aspect change to two six zero. Speed six knots. Planesman, come to two six zero, slowly, six knots.”
Over long minutes and several aspect changes, the underwater scene took shape.
Nathan waited, he saw the sonar operator, a CPO and his best sonar man, making notes, listening more and taking down readings. He knew to give the man time.
“SONAR. SIR, I’VE GOT the best picture now I’m going to get.”
“Ok, CPO Benson. Let’s hear what the Virginia Visionary has to say.”
Benson pursed his lips. “Sir, first off, we put a fish into that Sea Cow. She’s burning and listing heavy. Seopung is heading southwest, towards Wonsan, I think. She has escorts, I’ve picked up three or maybe four Sang-O class boats. They’re making eight knots, at two hundred and thirty feet. I don’t think they’ll make Wonsan without a snorkel. That’s a guess, Sir.”
“Thanks CPO Benson. You’re probably right, they’ll have a weak link amongst them.” He walked over to the chart plot. “Let’s have an intercept position, Kaminski. Assume we’ll transit at twenty knots.”
She worked and plotted the best position. “Here Sir, it’s about halfway from Sinpo to Wonsan.” She’d plotted a position to the southeast of a small offshore Island. “Around twelve miles off,” she zoomed in, “Hwa-do Island. Bearing two four three.”
“Ok Planesman, do as she says. Speed twenty knots.”
After an hour’s sail, he decided it was time. “Sonar. Position of enemy squadron?”
“Bearing, three fifteen. Range sixteen miles. Sir.”
“I want a cold layer, keep an ear out. Flood forward one. Open and trim vents fore and aft. Make for depth. Down bubble fifteen, make your depth 2,600 feet.”
USS Stonewall Jackson was going far deeper than her opponents could, all the way down to a dark, crushing 2,600 feet.
Up ahead the submarine Seopung, (West Wind) escorted by the Sang-O boats, Bada Saja, (Sea Lion) Ag-eo, (Crocodile) Mun-eo (Octopus) and Geom-eun gae (Blackfish), made their way towards Wonsan, unaware of their stalker in the darkness down below.
Chapter 9
THE BATTLE OF HWA-DO Island. Fourteen miles Southeast of Hwa-do.
“SONAR. WE’VE JUST passed down through a cold layer, Sir.”
“Very good. Planesman, zero bubble.” Nathan checked the depth indicator, 1,300 feet. It was an instinctive check; his eyes regularly took in several snippets of information from around the room. It was an unconscious, rote skill. Even the crew’s body language told him something. The deck rose up to forward and the crew stood, as they should relative to the floor instead of leaning backwards.
A boat was less easy to detect, down below the layer. It was known as the shadow zone.
In the deep ocean, the water temperature varies, which causes the water density to vary. This changing density creates an effect called a thermocline, which acts as a barrier, causing sound energy to bend away. This can effectively shield the submarine from view.
“Sonar. Range to the enemy squadron eight miles. I can make out two surface vessels, running through the library.” It took a little more than a minute.
“Sir. They’re the Najin class frigates, Najin and Heuglyong.”
“Weaps. Armament?” He consulted the dummies guide.
“Two, five tube RBU 1200 launchers. Rocket launched anti-submarine mortars. Range three thousand three hundred feet. Depth spread timing for detonation, or detonation on impact. Max operating depth 1,500 feet.”
“Kaminski. How long until we’re under their line of advance?”
She made a few calculations. “Eight minutes Sir.”
“Let me know when we’re there.”
The minutes counted down.
“UNDER THEIR LINE NOW,” said Nikki.
“Come to two two zero degrees, speed eight knots.”
The squadron made its way towards Wonsan with USS Stonewall Jackson 1,000 feet below and behind.
Right Blake; get a grip. Nathan cast his mind back to the conversation he’d had with Admiral Sutton at Pearl.
“We’re ROE free, so your mission and Rules Of Engagement are to sink the enemy boat and any enemy boats or ships you encounter.”
How to penetrate the submarine screen and get to his quarry?
“Sonar. Sir, they’re slowing, props are now slowing.”
“All stop,” ordered Nathan. The drive slowed then stopped, and the boat drifted forward under its own momentum.
“Sonar. I heard a ballast blow, one of them is going up.”
“Any idea who, Benson?”
“No, Sir.”
One could have a problem, but why would they all come to a stop?
T
hat was it. Bastard.
“XO, Kaminski, come to the conn.” They both came over, and Nathan lowered his voice. “It’s got to be Seopung. What else?”
The XO nodded.
“Sir,” said Nikki, “the Pukgukson-3 ballistic missile has a range of at least 780 miles, could be 1,400 or more. That’s more than enough to hit all South Korea and most or all of Japan. They’ve even a long outside chance of reaching Guam.”
Nathan gripped the rail on the conn. “Ok thanks, return to stations.”
Nathan knew if Seopung was setting up for a missile launch, it had to be stopped. She had four vertical tubes forward of the sail. That could be two nukes for Seoul, one for Busan, and, just for devilment, one for Tokyo too. She needed to have the hell knocked out of her world.
“That’s it,” said Nathan standing, “enough. She’s going to get the Mother of all Gerbils rammed up her ass. Come to six knots. Blow one forward.” The deck now took on a slope to the bow.
“Weaps. War shot status?”
“Sir, tubes one to four Mk 48 CBASS, tube five Harpoon, tube six clear.”
“Get me a firing solution on all submerged contacts.”
“Aye Sir.” The Weapons officer set to work. “Contacts marked. Seopung designated Tango one. Four Sang-O boats designated Tango’s two to five.”
“Closest?”
“Tango five, Sir.”
“Lay in the solution. Flood tube one, open outer doors.”
“Tube ready in all respects.”
“Snapshot, snapshot. Launch tube one and reload.” A hissing came from the bow.
“Fish launched. The fish is hungry.”
“Sonar, all contacts have put on revolutions. They’re moving.” The Mk 48 CBASS raced upwards, there wasn’t a great deal of ground to cover.
“Weaps. The fish is hungry and pinging. Wire cut. Fish terminal, pinging, running in. Running in.”
“Sonar. Hot datum, Hot datum, Tango five.”
“Flood one, stabilise ascent at this depth.”
“Aye Sir, stabilising at one thousand feet.”
“Sonar. Sir Tango’s two and four are flooding ballast. They’re coming down to us. Aspect change on Tango four, coming to port, it sounds like he’s flooding a tube.”
“Weaps. Snapshot, snapshot. Target Tango four. Tube three, flood and open outer doors. Launch when ready.”
“Tube three ready in all respects. Launch. Fish away and hungry.”
“Sonar. Fish in the water type 53. Tango four got one away.”
“The fish is hungry and pinging. Wire cut. Fish terminal, pinging, running in. Come on, come on. Fish has missed. Wait, it’s turning, seeking. Acquired target, coming in for a second attempt.”
The fish slammed into Tango four towards the stern, and 650lbs of high explosive tore the hull open.
“Hot datum, Tango four.”
“Sir, dynamic surface entry. Six inbound. I think we have rocket launched anti-submarine mortars coming down on our starboard, but close, very close.”
“Come to port sixty degrees.”
“Fish in the water type 53.”
“Speed twenty one knots.”
“Weaps, dance the lure.”
THE LURE ATTEMPTED to confuse the torpedo's passive sonar by emitting simulated submarine propeller and engine noise, which is more attractive than the boat to the torpedo's sensors. It dangled temptation in the torpedo’s face. Come on, come for me. You know you should. I’m a tasty girl. I know what you want.
“We have a dancing lure, Sir.”
“Active, Sir. The first fish has gone active the fish is pinging us. It’s heading down towards us. Second fish is active too.”
“Planesman, get that bubble down. Emergency dive. Make your depth, 500.”
“Sonar. Range, incoming fish now 1,300 feet.”
“Sing the lure,” commanded Nathan.
The lure now returned "pings" from the torpedo, it’s dance of temptation a false target more alluring than the submarine. The lure now transmitted these pings to the incoming torpedoes.
“The lure is singing Sir.”
“Sonar. Range point two miles.” Nathan swallowed, closed his eyes and counted down. The adrenalin flush told him it wasn’t far.
“Eject countermeasures to starboard. Come starboard 60 degrees.” The crew leaned to stay vertical as the boat heeled hard to the left.
Countermeasures fell away from the hull spinning, blowing bubbles, hissing and emitting sounds of submarine propellers. Come and take me boys, I’ll do anything for you.
Two explosions blew against the hull from the right hand side. The crew heard the hull groan in punishment, and all fell to the right as the hull was pushed left. Further away, the mortars went off and six loud explosions reverberated against the hull.
“Damage control!” shouted Nathan.
“Weaps, lay in a firing solution on Tango two. Ready tube four. Snapshot, snapshot. Tube four, flood and open outer doors. Launch when ready.”
“Tube four ready in all respects. Launch. Fish away and hungry.”
“Blow forward. Reverse prop.” The prop slowed, its many blades looking like Arab swords. The prop stopped and went into reverse as the bow came up. When he judged the moment was right, he called out.
“Engage forward. All ahead full.”
“Sonar. Tango three flooding ballast, he’s coming down towards us.”
“Weaps. The fish is hungry and pinging. Wire cut. Fish terminal on Tango two, pinging, running in. Running in, pinging.”
“Sonar. Hot datum, Hot datum, Tango two.”
“Weaps. War shot status?”
“Sir, tubes one and two Mk 48 CBASS, tube five Harpoon, tube six clear. They’re reloading a Mk 48 CBASS in tube three right now.”
“Load tube six with Harpoon.”
“Aye, Sir.”
“Line us up with Tango three, Sonar.”
“Come to port eight degrees, come back two. That’s it Sir, we’re staring down each other’s throats.”
USS Stonewall Jackson charged up towards the incoming Tango three.
Commander Hyun Bin, in the PRKN submarine Bada Saja, plunged into the depths to face his enemy.
“Weaps, lay in a firing solution on Tango three. Ready tube one. Snapshot, snapshot. Tube one, flood and open outer doors. Launch on my command.”
“Tube one ready in all respects.”
“Sonar. Tango three is flooding a tube. Sir, we’re racing towards each other. Sir, we’re playing chicken. We’re playing fucking chicken with another submarine.”
“We won’t tell anybody, Benson. Now shut up. Range to Tango three?”
“600 feet.”
“Launch tube one.”
“Fish away and hungry. Pinging, cutting wire.”
“Tango three has a fish in the water type 53.”
“Our fish is pinging, running in.” Nathan counted down, this had to be done just right.
“Fish inbound pinging us.”
Nearly, nearly.
“Come hard to starboard. Eject countermeasures to port, now.”
Countermeasures spun away from the boat spinning, blowing bubbles, hissing and singing songs of deception.
Men and women had to hold on to rails, anything to remain where they were.
There was a loud explosion to port. The hull shook with the force.
“SONAR. THAT WAS OUR own fish. We have a hot datum on Tango three. We out-chickened ‘em.”
Such was her forward momentum that USS Stonewall Jackson breached with her forward hull and sail out of the water. The crew briefly left the floor. She crashed back in.
“Flood forward. Open and trim vents fore and aft. Make for depth. Down bubble fifteen, make your depth two hundred feet.”
“How did you know when to turn, Sir? How did you know?” asked Sonar Benson.
“Close your mouth Benson,” shouted Chief of the Boat, Seamus Cox. “The skipper’s spent more time on the shitter at test depth than that Gook h
as driving submarines. Shut the fuck up.”
Nathan grinned at his COB. “Sonar, where’s Tango one?”
“He’s at periscope depth. Bearing two eight three, range two point six miles. Flooding ballast. He’s diving and coming to port. He’s lining up for a shot.”
“WEAPS, CONFIGURE TANGO one’s fish for an underbelly shot.”
“Aye, Sir.”
The torpedo would be programmed to strike its target amidships from underneath. A standard submarine evasion tactic when under attack was to go deep. Seopung may unwittingly impale herself on her own nemesis.
“Weaps, flood tube two and open outer doors.”
“Tube two flooded, outer doors open. The fish is armed. War shot ready in all respects.”
Nathan knew it had all come down to this. All his training, his time on board the USS NYC, his entire Naval career. It had all come down to the next few minutes.
Do it. Now.
“Launch tube two.” There was a rushing sound up forward.
“Fish away. She’s passive tracking. The fish is hungry.” The Mk 48 CBASS was steered by the cable trailing back into the tube.
“Sonar. Aspect change, Tango one coming to starboard.”
“Weaps. Fish, two point six minutes to run.” The fish swam through the cold black sea, blind, but guided by its trailing wire.
“Fish two point two miles to run.”
Nathan stood at his conn, raised his chin and said, “And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.”
“Weaps. Fish, one point eight miles to run.”
Nikki and the XO looked at Nathan, they hadn’t expected he’d be quoting the book of Revelation.
Nathan continued. “And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see. And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.”