Reprisal!- The Eagle's Sorrow

by Cliff Roberts

  “How’d they find us? We were jamming them, and we’ve almost no sonar signature. What’s going on?” the captain asked as he turned and looked at Chevy as if it was his job to know.

  “The only way to defeat our jamming is to have hardened electronics. And the only sonar that sees us—well, at least kind of sees us—is the newest American echo class target sonar. The Los Angeles-class has the hardened electronics, and I think Congress okayed the sale of the new sonar to our allies about six months ago. If it’s a Saudi boat, it probably has the sonar.”

  “Shit. There we go again, giving the enemy the ability to kill us because some politician wants to buy their friendship!” the captain lamented loudly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Be ready to dive as soon as that boat moves towards us or if they get a lock on us. I want to find out just how far he’s willing to move and whether he’s with that freighter or just shadowing it for some reason,” Captain Hodson whispered to Chevy as they came about.

  “Sonar, any other contacts?” the captain whispered.

  “The container ship is continuing to move off to the east, and the contacts out at the fifty mile mark are still traveling east-southeast. The only close contacts are the freighter and that sub. Range to the freighter, eleven thousand, eight hundred yards and holding, Captain,” the sonar man whispered. “The range to the sub is twelve thousand, one hundred yards and holding.”

  “What’s our friend doing?”

  “He’s just pacing the freighter. I can barely hear him,” the sonar man replied quietly.

  “Move to within firing range,” the captain ordered. Ten thousand yards (about two miles) was the maximum range for the old, Russian Mark 46s they were using, unlike the new American torpedoes which were accurate up to twenty miles. They were more like a rocket than a torpedo.

  Chevy knew that they would have the best chance of a kill if they closed within eight thousand yards, so that was what he ordered.

  *****

  The admiral and the XO of the King Fahd had just returned to the con minus the sonar operator when his replacement called out that the contact had changed direction and was now closing on them.

  “XO, the contact is closing on us again. Range eleven thousand, five hundred meters and closing,” the sonar man called out.

  The XO then reported, “Admiral, the contact has resumed closing on us. Range eleven thousand, five hundred meters and closing.”

  “Set target acquisition sonar and prepare to fire,” the admiral ordered. The crew instantly began reloading tube number one, turning the bow of the boat towards the target, even before the XO had repeated the order. Efficiency was certain to rise after the sonar operator of the watch had been ordered to the admiral’s ready room and then placed under arrest and chained to a bulkhead outside the engine room, under guard. Word travels faster than a lightning strike in the confines of a submarine.

  *****

  On the Rip Tide, one of the younger crew members asked, “Captain, how did you know the sub was firing outside of their range?” He was unable to remain quiet in the stress-filled atmosphere of the sub.

  “I guessed,” the captain replied to the wide-eyed young man who was hoping for a more authoritative answer.

  “A guess, sir?” the young man’s voice trembled as he spoke.

  “Yes, I guessed that the majority of the world’s navies still use the shorter range torpedoes, unless they are looking to attack something or someone. And then only the U.S. and her allies, the Russians and the Iranians have the true ‘fire and forget’ kind with a range of up to twenty miles. I was thinking the odds of it being one of those navies firing at us was pretty small, and I was right. It was a lucky guess.”

  “We’ve just been pinged again,” the sonar man called out.

  “All stop,” the captain called out.

  “All stop. Now we’ll see what he does,” Chevy stated as they began to wait.

  *****

  “Admiral, he has stopped closing! Range ten thousand meters!” the XO of the King Fahd reported as he looked at the range meter.

  “Turn towards him and remind him that we are not playing with him, and that he should think twice or three times before he makes any further threatening moves,” the admiral ordered.

  “Bringing the boat around and verifying the range to target,” the XO replied, and quickly, another ping from the target sonar shot across the sea towards the Rip Tide.

  “Stop us after a few hundred meters,” the admiral ordered.

  *****

  Having heard the second ping, the sonar man on the Rip Tide reported, “He’s turning towards us, Captain, and he’s moving forward. Four hundred yards, six hundred yards and stopping at eight hundreds closer or at a range of about nine thousand, two hundred yards, sir!”

  “He’s practically sitting under the freighter,” Chevy pointed out.

  “Let’s yank his chain a bit,” the captain suddenly ordered. “XO, move us within eight thousand yards of the freighter. We are still jamming, right?”

  “Still jamming. Closing within eight thousand yards,” Chevy called out, having abandoned the silent running.

  “Reset the jamming to a random spread, and try to jam their target sonar,” Captain Hodson ordered.

  “We’re being pinged again, sir. They’re trying to get a lock on us, and they are closing at fifteen knots,” the sonar man exclaimed.

  “Reconfigure the jamming to a random spread, and direct it at the sub. I think he thinks he can attack us again,” Chevy deadpanned with a large grin crossing his face.

  “I think you’re right, XO! All stop. Start backing us away,” the captain ordered.

  “What do you think, Chevy? Think we can take him?” the captain asked.

  “Yes, sir. We can take him, but the problem is, the freighter is getting away while we play cat and mouse with this bastard!”

  “Do you think the random frequency spread will blind them enough to allow us to close in for good odds of a kill? If we redirect all of the power straight at someone, shouldn’t that blind anyone?” the captain asked Chevy.

  He turned and asked the chief engineer something before answering. “Chief says that, in theory, we can reconfigure the jamming array and redirect full power straight at them, which will blind their equipment, making us completely invisible until they can reconfigure themselves or our power dips. In either case, it should give us a few minutes to close and fire. He also says he can do the reconfiguration without having to go outside,” Chevy announced. “The only downside is that if the freighter is looking, it will see us plain as day.”

  “I think the best we’ll get from the tactic is the knocking down of the torpedoes and causing them to have to reconfigure their attack sonar. That could take them a few minutes at best,” the chief added.

  “What do you think?” the captain asked Chevy.

  “I think it’s worth the risk to jam everything we can and try running in close before firing. That way, he can’t escape the impact. But if he gets off a lucky shot, we’re dead because it only works straight on. If we break to evade a torpedo, he’ll have us.” Chevy’s assessment was less than positive.

  “Let me know when you’re ready, Chief,” Captain Hodson called out as he turned to his XO. “Chevy, put us out four thousand and down four hundred. Let’s slip under the thermo layer and build up speed for a quick charge. Before we go in, make sure that bastard is sitting under or as close as we can get him to that freighter. Maybe we can get two birds with one fish,” the captain grinned.

  The chief sat plunking away on the computer keyboard for several minutes, while Chevy worked on a firing solution and targeting. The rest of the crew sat silently, awaiting their fate.

  “I’m ready on the jamming,” the chief called out after several minutes.

  “”How long to switch it all back, Chief?” the captain asked.

  “Maybe two minutes. It only takes a few commands to switch back.”

  “Chevy?”
the captain inquired.

  “Plotted and input,” Chevy retorted.

  “What of our friend, Sonar?” the captain called out.

  “Range twelve thousand yards and moving away with the freighter at fifteen knots.”

  “Okay! Open outer doors and then ahead full. We’ll only get one chance. Let’s make it count!”

  *****

  The King Fahd was making minimum headway as it paced The Emperor of the Sea waiting with all of its tubes loaded and the admiral hoping to get another shot at the intruder. It would be a fine demonstration of power under combat conditions for the flagship boat and a huge boost for the admiral’s reputation.

  “Admiral, long range sonar has a contact bearing fifteen thousand meters and closing. Speed is twenty-two knots,” the XO reported.

  “Twenty-two knots? Is this contact on the surface?” the admiral asked curtly.

  “Negative, sir. From the sound of it, it appears to be that sub we fired on earlier.”

  “What is their range and heading now?” the admiral demanded.

  “Range fourteen thousand meters and closing. Heading is a collision course with us!” the XO reported with a look of concern.

  “Turn into this attacker and set the target acquisition sonar. Prepare to fire!” the admiral ordered. “Bring us up to three-quarter speed directly at them. These cowboys are playing ‘chicken,’ as the infidels say, with the wrong man!”

  *****

  Captain Hodson and XO Chevy stood studying a chart on the table before them as they waited for the King Fahd to change course and fall for the trap.

  “Captain, he’s turning into us and closing fast!” the sonar man stated excitedly.

  “That’ll work just fine. Start jamming,” the captain stated flatly as he made a notation on the chart before he moved to his chair and strapped himself in. “Buckle up, boys! It could get a bit bumpy!”

  *****

  “Admiral, he’s dropped off the scope! He’s gone!” the XO on the King Fahd reported dourly.

  “Do we have his last heading?” the admiral demanded more than asked.

  “Yes, sir. He was on a head-on collision course,” the XO stated with nervous tension in his voice.

  “Increase speed to full ahead,” the admiral ordered.

  “Full ahead. Aye, sir! Admiral, if I may suggest…,” the XO tried to broach the subject of countermanding the admiral’s order. At full ahead, they could not launch the torpedoes due to back pressure in the tubes caused by the rushing waters.

  The admiral cut him off. “No, you may not!” he shouted as his eyes threw daggers at his second in command. “That sub is still heading directly towards us. He has provoked us by jamming us, which is a clear threat, and we will meet him without fear! Prepare to fire!”

  *****

  “Captain, he’s increased speed. We’re closing in on ten thousand yards, and he is still closing. We’ll be within kill range in under a minute at this speed,” the sonar man on the Rip Tide reported to Captain Hodson.

  “Slow us to one quarter speed!”

  “What?” asked Chevy, not sure he heard the captain right.

  “Bring us to one quarter speed. Let’s let him close on us. At the speed he’s going, he can’t fire his fish due to the back pressure in the tubes. He can press all the firing buttons he wants, but the fish will just sit there. We’ll blow him out of the water once he’s in range. What is the range now?” Captain Hodson called out.

  “Range, nine thousand five hundred yards and closing,” Chevy chirped as he checked the range finder.

  “Prepare to fire,” the captain ordered.

  *****

  “Admiral, we are attacking blind! We don’t know if he is still heading for us or has turned away! Procedure states we should slow to one quarter speed and change course until we can reacquire the target,” the King Fahd’s XO called out.

  “What is our range to target?” the admiral asked, ignoring him.

  “Range was eleven thousand meters and closing when we last had sonar contact with the target!” the XO reported.

  “What is our range, Faris?” demanded the admiral, despite knowing the sonar was being jammed.

  “Maybe nine thousand meters. With the jamming, we can’t tell,” the XO replied.

  “You’re guessing! I want to know! Reconfigure the target sonar. Keep closing and prepare for an emergency stop! Open outer doors!” The admiral seemed to be shouting orders for the sake of shouting orders, since he’d ordered the crew several minutes ago to prepare to fire, which included opening the outer doors.

  “Admiral, the outer doors are open already, and it is recommended that we be at one-quarter speed or less before we attempt to fire,” the XO reminded him. “The chief of the boat is attempting to reconfigure as we speak.”

  “Do not test me!” shouted the admiral. “I am fully trained to command this vessel! I know what is required and when to initiate procedures. If you question my orders again, Faris, you shall be charged with mutiny and will be beheaded!”

  “Yes, sir,” the XO stood at attention awaiting further orders.

  “Sir, we are still being jammed,” the radio man exclaimed. “We are blind in the water!”

  “Chief of the boat! Get on that, now!” the XO ordered before the admiral could respond.

  “Last known position of the target?” the admiral called.

  “The target was dead ahead and the range was eleven thousand, four hundred meters, and they were closing at twenty-two knots,” the sonar man replied.

  “Extrapolate from the last known position and prepare to fire manually,” the admiral ordered.

  “Aye, sir!” the XO replied.

  “Chief of the boat! Where is my target sonar?” the admiral yelled.

  “I’m trying to reconfigure, Your Excellency! I need just another few moments,” the chief responded, exasperatedly.

  “We do not have a few moments!”

  *****

  “Captain, he’s still closing fast! Range is eight thousand, five hundred yards, and he going all out,” Rip Tide’s sonar man stated with a sense of urgency.

  “This will do, Chevy? Prepare to fire and come about on my mark. Range?” the captain called.

  “Range, eight thousand yards,” Chevy reported.

  “Fire both tubes! Fire tubes one and two!” the captain called out. Chevy punched the buttons as he repeated the order to fire, and the fish were pushed out of the sub by compressed air. The torpedoes’ acquiring sonar went active within fifty yards and rushed forward towards their target.

  “Tubes one and two fired,” Chevy reported. “Bring the boat about. Full ahead!” The fish raced away as the Rip Tide made a sweeping turn to port. Its twin screw caused it to shoot forward in this evasive action, removing the boat from harm’s way.

  ******

  “There! I’ve restored our sonar,” the King Fahd’s chief of the boat reported with a smile to the admiral, who was looking over the sonar man’s shoulder. The screen flickered and came to life just in time to show the two torpedoes from the Rip Tide closing in on them.

  Before anyone could react, the crew of the King Fahd felt the explosive vibrations through the hull of the boat. Milliseconds later, they saw the flash of white, bubbling water blast in from all sides, killing them instantly and sending the King Fahd, Saudi Arabia’s flagship submarine, to the bottom.

  A huge fountain of water exploded into the air off the starboard side of the freighter, The Emperor of the Sands, as the Saudi’s Los Angeles-class sub was struck by both three-ton torpedoes. The captain and crew of the freighter were unsure what had happened, but instinctively they knew that the two large scale explosions were not a good thing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The captain of The Emperor of the Sands ordered that the ship’s speed be increased to flank as the ship rocked heavily to port, tilting thirty degrees from the shockwave of the explosions, before rocking back to a relatively even keel. He then ordered the helmsma
n to take evasive action and begin to zigzag along their course. The captain knew that he had a friendly escort shadowing him on this voyage, and he feared that the large explosions were the telltale sign that it had been sunk by someone. Adding to his suspicions, his radio man was unable to contact the escort (or anyone else for that matter) as the radio was clearly being jammed.

  This prompted the captain to frantically search the charts for a port to which he could escape. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one for well over a hundred nautical miles that had a deep enough harbor.