The Iranian Blockade

by Stephen Makk

  “Graff.” The radio operator jogged over. The Lieutenant took the set.

  “Prairie dog, this is Tadpole, Prairie dog, this is Tadpole. Over.”

  “Tadpole, Prairie dog.”

  “We are two miles East of target. Our beacon is on.”

  “Copy Tadpole we are on our way.” Several minutes later the two Sea Hawks set down in swirling funnels of dust, bushes waved violently in the downdraft. The doors slid back, the Seals and the women climbed in. They were all strapped in and the two helicopters lifted away to the south. Their destination? The Persian Gulf and DDG-87 USS Mason. Their helmets were plugged in, Anupa could hear the chatter of the flight crew for the first time. Lieutenant T leaned over to Anupa. “We got you out Mam. Who the hell are you ladies anyway?”

  She smiled. “We sneak in the backdoor, report on who we want, steal what we want and kill what we don’t. We’re MI6.”

  The Lieutenant grinned and shook their hands. “Alright, pleased to meet you. Glad you’re on my side.”

  USS STONEWALL JACKSON. The Gulf of Oman.

  THE PEOPLE’S LIBERATION Army Navy SSN was diving down towards them. Nathan knew it was End Bomb time.

  “Weaps, flood tube six, open outer doors. Launch Ren, move him two hundred feet to starboard and run him up towards Tango one. Maintain Ren’s position two hundred feet from us.

  “Ren is launched and running Sir.”

  The Plansman sat, hands on his yoke. “Plansman, blow one, fifty percent, trim forward and aft for ascent, up bubble twenty-five. Aim at Tango one.”

  “Blow one five zero, trim for ascent, Aye Sir.”

  The boat was angling up to meet the Chinese boat head on.

  “Weaps, flood tubes one and two, open outer doors. Lay in Mk 48 firing solutions. I want tube two’s firing solution to veer to the right.”

  “One and two, flooded and open. Both tubes ready in all respects. Fish two will run in from the right Sir. Both fish are hungry.”

  Deep below the Gulf of Oman the two daemons of the depths Long March 09 and USS Stonewall Jackson headed for each other. Nathan felt a knot of fear and adrenaline in his stomach, he knew only one of them would one day surface to breath fresh air. That day sixty five USN personnel or ninety three PLAN submariners would be consigned to wander the depths for eternity.

  “Sir, Tango one still descending, Scooby’s still being ignored. Tango one five thousand feet away.”

  “Eject countermeasures from Scooby, have him run in on a collision course with Tango one.”

  “Aye Sir.” Nathan ran his fingers through his now sweat moist hair.

  “Weaps, run in on Tango one with Ren, get him to simulate a tube attack.”

  “Sir.”

  The Chinese SSN was diving with two Pointers either side simulating attacks.

  “Sir Tango one’s starting to turn to our right. I think Ren’s tricked him. Wait one...wait one. Sir Tango one’s launched a fish on Ren.”

  “Eject countermeasures from Ren.” The Yu-6 was running in on Ren.

  “Launch tube two.”

  “Tube two launched Sir fish is going wide right and turning to come in on Tango one.”

  Ren was simulating an attack from Jackson's right, from what Nathan hoped would appear from the Chinese boat to be Ren’s torpedo.

  “Fish terminal on Ren.”

  “Weaps, launch tube one.”

  “Tube one launched, fish running in and hungry Sir.”

  The detonation could be felt through the hull. The Chinese Yu-6 had exploded and taken out Ren.

  Our fish is running in,” said Benson,” range one thousand feet. Tango one’s starting to turn our way.”

  “Terminal on fish one, cutting wire now. Tango one is coming to our bearing, his doors are open. Fish one pinging, pinging, terminal. Hot datum on Tango, Hot Datum.” Benson stood and clenched both fists. The blast could be heard as a deep awful thud through the hull.

  “Eat that, Tango one. How’s that for a Spring roll?”

  He sat and continued. “Ripple blowing, Tango one, multiple bulkheads.” There was another deep thud. “Massive gas leak, secondary explosion. Tango one’s broken into three. All parts, sinking, sinking.” A cheer rocked the control room.

  Nathan took the intercom handset up. “All hands. We have scored two Hot datums on our targets.” A cheer went up throughout the boat.

  “Remember, ninety three PLAN sailors just died. They’re your fellow submariners. Remember them in your prayers. It is also my sad duty to announce that seaman Ren was killed in action today. He bravely died so that we could live, he’ll be missed by us and especially Stimpy. Captain out.” Nathan replaced the handset.

  “Weaps, recover the surviving Pointers.”

  “Aye Sir,” The Pointers were guided back to the torpedo tubes and recovered into the boat, there they were recharged and reloaded with countermeasures.

  “Trim for ascent, make for periscope depth,”

  The boat headed towards the surface.

  “Periscope depth, Sir,” Nathan typed a message into his console and transferred it to comms. Lemineux, raise the photonic mast, transmit that communication.”

  “Sir.”

  PRIORITY RED

  R 2713555Z JUL 86 ZY10

  STONEWALL JACKSON

  CIA-OPS// ID C796TF722//

  TO CIA OPS LANGLEY//COMSUBPAC//N18//

  NAVAL INTEL OPS/04

  MSGID/STONEWALL JACKSON 479/ ACTUAL//

  MSG BEGINS:/7

  GULF OF OMAN. IN AN ACTION AGAINST ESCORTS, TWO PLAN SHANG CLASS SSN DESTROYED. AM FOLLOWING TWO CARGO SHIPS INTO STRAIT OF HORMUZ. YOUR ORDERS?

  MSG END//

  NATHAN, NIKKI AND LARRY Sayers sat at the Wardroom table.

  Nathan stared at the pair of them and then looked at the ceiling.

  “What’s your view on what we’ll get back from the Pentagon?” There was a knock on the door, a sailor opened the door and set down a tray of Oreos and coffee.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll be outside if you need any more Sir.” He left.

  “I can’t see us being told to sink them immediately,” said Larry.

  “Why?” asked Nathan.

  “Too simple,” said Nikki.

  Nathan slyly smiled at her. “You’re learning how to speak Pentagonese Nikki.”

  He took a drink of his coffee and carefully set down the cup. He sighed.

  “Assume they have us follow the ships into the Strait of Hormuz, we’ll be seriously outnumbered.”

  “Yeah, the Pentagon must want the ships to be dropped, otherwise why send us half way around the world following them?”

  “I know Larry,” said Nikki, “but we are dealing with the Pentagon. The easy thing to do would have been to sink them in the Strait of Malacca.”

  “The system doesn’t like it easy,” said Nathan, “what’s our main threat?” Nikki took out her Tablet and accessed the idiot's guide to CENCOM area forces and equipment.

  “Iran. ASW capabilities. Three Frigates armed with 324mm torpedoes, Sonar 174 type. One has two Bell-Agusta 212 helicopters, it’s not known what their anti-submarine capability is.

  Three Kilo class boats. Various other classes, around four boats in total and twenty-one Ghadir class,” she looked at the two of them, “we’ve already met one of those.

  Ten Sea King anti-shipping and anti-submarine helicopters. ASW Sonar and weapon types unknown, but not thought to be very capable. They also have a large number of missile equipped patrol boats and fast launches, but these focus on surface threats.” Nathan rested his elbows on the table, his hands raised with fingertips touching.

  “So, three surface vessels with limited capability. Three Kilo and twenty-one Ghadir class boats. We can make a reasonable assumption that some of these assets will be unavailable due to maintenance, crewing shortages, et al.”

  “Can we?” asked Nikki.

  “We can. These guys aren’t supermen, they’ll be fighting the same bureaucratic bat
tles that we do.”

  Larry leaned forward. “As we get closer to Bandar Abbas their defensive intensity will increase. The job will get more difficult until it’s finally impossible. The top brass needs to get their heads above the five sided foxhole.”

  “Nathan,” said Nikki, “you need to shove a Gerbil up their asses.” Nathan nodded and stood.

  “I’ll think about it, in the meantime let’s prepare for battle.”

  Nathan grabbed some rack time, he awoke, took some breakfast in the galley and walked forward to the command room.

  “Any orders from the CNO?” Lemineux shook his head. Nathan sat at his console and wrote out a few words.

  “Raise the mast and transmit this.”

  “Yes Sir.” The message arrived by satellite in the Pentagon and Pearl Harbor.

  MSGID/STONEWALL JACKSON 479/ ACTUAL//

  MSG BEGINS:/08

  SIRS, YOUR TASK AWAITS YOU. A VESSEL OF WAR IS READY TO ACT. COMMAND US TO ATTACK AND THEN SIR WE WILL GIVE THEM THE BAYONET. FAIL TO DO SO, AND A VAST HOST WILL PERISH. - STONEWALL JACKSON AND NATHAN BLAKE. YOUR ORDERS?

  MSG END//

  He let the XO read it, who gave him the thumbs up. He then passed it to Lieutenant Kaminski. She smiled at him warmly with her alluring eyes. “Perfect Sir. The Gerbil is on its way.” Nathan looked to an officer sat at his nearby console.

  “Weaps. Standby to give them the bayonet.”

  Chapter 15

  The battle of Qeshm Island.

  USS STONEWALL JACKSON sailed west in the gloom below the sun sparkled waters of the Gulf of Oman. She was heading toward the world’s oil artery.

  Nathan had just got back from his ship’s inspection rounds. “Kaminski, where are we now?”

  “Sir, we’ve come to a heading of north northwest. We’re off the UEA coast, heading to the east of the Northern Oman peninsula. We’re one hundred and twenty miles from Bandar Abbas. Around fifty miles from the Strait of Hormuz proper.”

  “Roll on Roll off ships are six miles ahead of us,” said Benson.

  “Weaps, designate them as Tango one and two.”

  “Aye Sir.”

  “You’re optimistic Sir. It’s only been five hours since you requested orders?”

  “I know XO, but we’ve got to be prepared.”

  “Sir, I’m picking up a possible contact. Subsurface. I’d like to go quiet.”

  “All stop,” said Nathan.

  “All stop aye.” The boat’s drive was shut down and she coasted slowly forward, generating little noise. The minutes passed by.

  “Sir, I think we have a contact, probable Kilo. Range six miles, speed ten knots heading south.” He knew this was a dangerous very quiet opponent, a Russian made diesel electric boat. It was so quiet it was known as the black hole. The Kilo was fitted with sophisticated sonar and type 53 torpedoes, range fourteen miles, speed fifty MPH.

  “Where will his course take him Benson?”

  “Sir, he should come to our left. I’d guess within two miles of us.” Nathan knew the Kilo may be expecting the two ships to have a tail.

  “Weaps, designate Kilo as Tango three.”

  “Aye Sir.”

  “We’ll stay quiet and wait. Let me know if he turns.” It was time to wait. After fifteen minutes Benson reported.

  “Sir, Tango three is now range three miles, no course change.”

  “Weaps, compute firing solution, tube one.” Nathan waited for the Black Hole to get closer.

  The minutes went by. “Sir, Tango three is now one mile range, he’s point six miles to port. Still ten knots.”

  “Hold still and quiet.” Nathan knew at some point the Kilo would decide to give up and turn back to follow its two charges. But when?

  “Sir, the Kilo is passing our position.”

  “Keep me posted Benson.”

  “Tango three is point five miles off our port rear quarter.”

  “Planesman, four knots light left rudder, turn slowly to port. Come to south southwest. Weps, flood tube one.”

  “Tube one flooded Sir.”

  “Tango three is now south southwest, range point four miles.” The Kilo was now just south of them and still making way. He knew it would soon decide the area was clear.

  “Sir, Tango is coming about. Tango three is turning slowly towards us, coming to his port.”

  Weaps, open outer door tube two. Make ready. Update firing solution.”

  “Tango three is slowing Sir.” Nathan knew he was going quiet to listen to his area of operations, it was possible he’d hear them, the Kilo was equipped with the sensitive MGK 400E sonar.

  “Tube one is ready in all respects Sir.” This was it.

  “Weaps, launch tube one. Aim amidships, dive the fish prior to impact, be ready to climb up into him.” From up front came a whoosh sound.

  “Fish is running, good launch, running and hungry.” The room tensed, many of the crew looked to Weaps.

  “Range, point two miles,” said Benson excitedly, “gas escape, he’s flooding and opening a tube, he’s rushing. Tango three has launched countermeasures.”

  “Fish closing, dipping, dipping. Turning upwards, fish pinging. Cutting wire. Terminal approach, closing, closing.”

  Benson stood and punched the air. “Hot Datum, Tango three. Yes, eat that.” The control room cheered.

  “Are you going to take out the cargo ships too, Sir,” asked Nikki.

  “No Lieutenant. We’ll need the Pentagon to give us the green light for that. Planesman, right rudder, come to north northwest, sixteen knots.”

  “North Northwest at sixteen, Aye Sir.” USS Stonewall Jackson sailed into the enemies’ lair. After ten minutes he knew they must be close.

  “Kaminski, position?”

  “We’re off the north Oman peninsular, entering the Strait of Hormuz now, Sir.”

  The sonar operator looked up to Nathan. “Contact, contact Sir,” said Benson, “two subsurface contacts. Left contact is definitely Ghadir class, right is suspected Kilo. Northwest, range eight miles.”

  “Weaps what’s our Pointer deployment?”

  “Scooby is in tube five Sir.”

  “What’s our tube status?”

  “Sir, tube one being reloaded with Mk 48. Tubes two to four and tube six Mk 48. Three VPM tubes with twenty-one Tomahawk, three are factor 100 warheads.”

  “Flood tube five, open door, stand by, speed eight knots” The Captain was slowing to reduce the sound they gave off.

  It took a minute. “Sir tube five ready in all respects, Scooby booted and ready.”

  “Launch on tube five.” The Pointer was punched out of the tube.

  “Scooby launched and running, Sir”

  “Position Scooby two miles to the left of the Gahdir. Designate Gahdir and Kilo as Tango’s four and five. Compute firing solutions. Reload tube five with Harpoon.” All tubes would be Mk 48 apart from tube five loaded with Harpoon, the sea skimming anti-ship missile. Nathan had to admit he was greedy, he’d like more tubes for Pointers. VPN couldn’t deploy Pointers, but Nathan swore he’d be banging on the CNO’s door to get them modified. Several minutes later they were ready.

  “Scooby is in position Sir. Our range to Tangos is four miles.”

  “Ready tubes four and six, Mk 48, flood tubes, open doors.”

  “Weaps, send an active ping from Scooby on the tangos’. Let’s get em wishing they could wash their underwear.”

  “Sir, the Ghadar is coming to the west, he’s going for Scooby.”

  “Put Scooby into a spiral dive, level him out at nine hundred feet.” Weaps looked at Nathan.

  What the hell was he up to?

  Benson listened to the deep. He could hear it talking to him, whispering its dark sweet nothings. He could sense the creatures, both near and far. The temperature too. Sounds carried differently through cold and warmer waters. The beating was soft, a slightly rounded frequency indicating warmer waters. He felt the sound subtlety change in pitch, he knew that could be the sta
rt of an aspect change. The start of the boat turning, there it was again, it became more pronounced.

  “The Kilo is keeping station, he’s turning slightly to our starboard. He’s heading towards us.”

  Nathan knew the Kilo either sensed them or it was wary of a trick. The Captain of the Kilo knew Scooby could be a gift or a trap. The Black hole was playing safe. Her commander must be one of their best, he’d been given the command of one of their best boats. The Kilo slowly came south, Nathan waited his chance.

  “Sir, the Kilo’s diving, his revs are up. Down at four hundred feet now. I think he’s layering Sir. There’s a cold layer.” The deep sea is divided into a warmer surface layer and a cold deeper layer. They’re separated by a thermocline, an abrupt change in temperature that acts as a barrier to sound propagation. Get below the thermocline and you’re greatly obscured from a sonar above the layer.

  “Emergency dive, emergency dive. Get below the sucker.” A Soryu class boat that USS Stonewall Jackson is based on, has a maximum working depth of two thousand nine hundred feet. The Kilo class at just nine hundred feet maximum working depth is optimised for anti-shipping warfare. It’s also quite capable against SSBN’s who tend to operate around a max depth of one thousand feet.

  “Our depth is six hundred feet, eight hundred, one thousand, one thousand two hundred,” the Planesman called out. It was a race to depth and USS Stonewall Jackson had won, it hadn’t finished yet. Nathan grinned at the XO. “They build a strong hull in Kobe, Japan.”

  Nathan turned to his sonar wizard. “What’s he up to?”

  “Lucy tells me that he’s bottomed out at eight hundred feet, Sir. It’s hard to know if he sees us or not.”

  “Weaps, weapon status?”

  “We have a Mk 48 in tube four with his name on it, firing solution loaded and updated, tube ready in all respects Sir.”

  “Planesman, forward one third.”

  “One third Aye Sir.”

  “XO,” said Nathan walking towards the Conn, “I think we’ll go under him and get out of his sonar lobes. The MGK-400E has reduced sensitivity from above and below.”