by Unknown
Phelps nodded. “Yes sir. At one time I might recommend getting hold of the committee chairs and getting things taken care of behind the scenes, but not this time. Plus, if we did, this whole thing would get blown out of proportion and into the general public’s eyes. There’s no way to win.”
The President let out a sigh. “Then just do your job. Gather everything you need and hope the special prosecutor can keep a lid on things. If it does look like something will come out, then maybe you both will need to come see me. With the war on, we just can’t afford something like this,” he said.
Phelps placed the document in his briefcase. “We’ll do our best,” he said.
“Thanks, Director,” said the President.
Phelps left the office and O’Bannon stared at the wall. Any minute he expected it to come crashing down around him.
Chapter 9
First strikes
USS John F. Kennedy
COMUSFF, Vice Admiral Josh Lineman had flown aboard almost immediately after the fighting began. The carrier’s COD had touched down, disengaged her tailhook, and taxied next to the island. The rear of the plane opened and Lineman quickly stepped out the back. He was met by Captain Rick Toland, the Kennedy’s commanding officer.
“Welcome aboard, Admiral. Word of your coming got to us just a little over an hour ago. Your quarters are ready,” he said while shaking the admiral’s hand.
Lineman waved him off. “No time, Captain. You are within 500 miles of a Russian aircraft carrier. We’re going to take it out and open the skies again. Let’s head to your combat information center,” he said as he breezed past Toland into the island. Toland watched as the rest of Lineman’s staff dragged in behind him.
Captain Mack Haines, the admiral’s Chief of Staff, gave Toland a sorrowful look. “Better keep up with him or there’ll be hell to pay,” he said in a moan. “I’ll sit down with you later.”
The men made their way into the ship’s island and up the ladders to the ship’s combat information center. Walking over to the chart, Lineman measured off the latitude and longitude of where the Russian carrier was positioned. He pointed to the spot. “According to intelligence, this is where they are. I need to be within three hundred miles in the next four hours. How fast do we need to go?” he asked.
The quartermaster took his dividers and measured off a 300 mile radius of the position, then measured a course to intercept the line. “Assuming they are maintaining a position, we would need to make 27 knots to be at this position within four hours. That would be a course of 037, speed 27, sir” he said.
Lineman nodded. “Make it so, Captain.”
Toland look at the admiral with slight surprise. “Just reminding you there may still be submarines out there. At 27 knots we will be making a lot of noise to home in on,” he said.
“That’s what the submarine is there for, Captain. Send the escorts ahead to scout for subs as well. I want that carrier and nothing is going to get in our way,” Lineman said with a swagger. “Besides, every reward has a little risk,” he grinned. “Now let’s get this force moving,” he demanded.
Toland turned to his watch officer. “Until the admiral’s staff comes in, we need to get the word out. Send to all stations the new course and speed. More instructions to follow,” he said. There was a note of caution in his voice.
“Aye, Captain,” the watch officer said. Pulling open the ATP-1, he quickly pulled out the correct message and picked up the secure satellite circuit. Within a minute, the entire force had changed course and sped up to 27 knots.
USS Texas
Captain Jacobs had just gone to his cabin to do some paperwork when he heard a rumbling coming through the skin of the ship. He rushed to the ship’s control room in time to hear the report from sonar.
“The whole task group has suddenly sped up. We’re listening to multiple blade counts turning at least 25 or more knots. They have also changed direction, sir,” said the sonar operator.
“Very well,” said the OOD. He turned to the Captain. “Sounds like the whole group just changed course and sped up. Beats me what they’re up to,” he said.
“I could hear it in my cabin. For a minute I thought we might have caught something. Any idea of a course yet?” Jacobs asked.
The OOD called to sonar. “Sonar, bridge, any idea of a course yet?”
“Looks like around 035 or so, bridge. I’ll have a firm one for you in a couple minutes,” he said.
“Let’s not get left behind. Take her down to 800 feet and increase speed to 27. At least there we won’t be cavitating,” said Jacobs.
The OOD gave the order and the ship tipped down slightly as she sank deeper into the ocean.
Jacobs walked to the sonar shack. “Can you hear anything in all this noise?” he asked. “I can still hear that rumble through the hull.”
The sonar watch shook his head. “Not much, Captain. I’m trying to filter out as much as I can, but with that much noise, we won’t be able to pick up shit. Us going to a higher speed isn’t helping much either,” he complained.
Jacobs nodded. “I know, but at the rate they are going we will get left far behind and we can’t do that either,” he said. “I wish I knew who the lunatic is that gave this order. Every Russian submarine in the Atlantic can hear them now. It’s just the invitation they are looking for.” He turned to the petty officer at the console and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Just do as best you can, Faris. If you hear anything new, just holler. I’m afraid this is going to be a hairy trip,” Jacobs said.
Petty Officer Faris grinned back at his captain. “I have a few tricks. If I hear anything, I’ll sing out,” he said confidently.
Jacobs grinned and nodded. “That’s just what I need to hear,” he said as he turned and went back to the control room.
Norfolk, Virginia
“What do you mean he’s gone to sea?” asked Admiral Griffin.
“Just that, boss. I just got word he took off four hours ago and headed toward the Kennedy. He dragged his staff along with him. Just before he left, he sent out special instructions to the Kennedy task group to prepare for his arrival. Nobody checked with us about it. He just left,” his Chief of Staff said.
Griffin threw his pen on the desk. Lineman had not been his pick for COMUSFF, but the Pentagon had insisted. Now the hothead was going out on his own. “You don’t think he is going to try and go after that carrier, do you?” he asked.
The Chief of Staff shrugged his shoulders. “He may just want to make sure his carrier gets back in one piece,” he said.
“Well, get the word out to him that the Air Force is sending out a force to take care of that carrier. Make sure he stays out of the way. When he gets back here, let him know I want to see him. He can’t just go running around without letting people know what he’s up to,” Griffin said.
“Will do, sir,” the Chief of Staff said. He quickly drafted an immediate message to COMUSFF and sent it to the communications center. Unfortunately, because Lineman had left in such a hurry, his communications staff had been left behind and the switch from Norfolk to USS Kennedy had not yet been made.
USS Kennedy
“We have an EW bearing line of 040 for several radars. I have an E-band air and surface target acquisition radar, an F-band surface search radar, G-band flight control radar, I-band navigation radar on that bearing. They match with the Admiral Kuznetsov. I also have a top pair and top plate radar, that match a Slava Class cruiser on the same bearing. There are some other navigational radars as well,” shouted the electronic warfare technician from behind his enclosed curtain. Suddenly a bearing line appeared on the weapons coordinator’s console matching the report.
Lineman looked up from his reading with a look of glee. “Get me a triangulation from the other ships, ASAP!” he demanded. Within a few minutes a second and then a third line crossed the scope from other ships. They pinpointed a position 320 miles away. Lineman slapped the Captain on the shoulder. “There he is, Captain. At
this range, we can launch anytime,” he said.
Captain Toland looked over at the chart. “That’s not where we expected to see them, Admiral. I thought they were supposed to be over here somewhere,” he said pointing toward another position on the chart.
“That was hours ago, Captain. You don’t expect them to sit at all stop, do you?” Lineman demanded. “Now let’s get some birds in the air and take care of business. I want those fighters up within twenty minutes,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” said Toland. He turned and walked to the back of the room where his intelligence officer was standing. He had just entered the room with a message. The man looked very concerned. “You heard him,” Toland said.
“Yes, Captain, but I don’t think that’s them. It would have meant them steaming at flank speed for hours to get that far away. Besides, I have a message here saying for us to expect a large number of Air Force planes in the next couple of hours. They have been ordered to take out the carrier,” he said handing over the message.
Toland took a moment and read the message. “Okay, look. Let’s brief the crews and get these guys in the air. Tell the CAG (carrier air group commander) I want to double our CAP (combat air patrol), then get these guys off toward this target. At the same time, tell them there might be another force at the first position and that if we take out the first, then go for the second. Get two tankers up as well. That ought to cover the bases. I’ll mention this to the Admiral.”
The intelligence officer nodded and quickly left the room. Toland went back to Admiral Lineman and handed him the message. “Admiral, my intel guy just handed me this. It seems the Air Force has been handed this one,” he said.
Lineman got visibly angry. “No Air Force pilots are going to do what I consider the Navy’s job. I want those planes in the air now! Is it happening?” he nearly shouted.
“Yes, Admiral. The crews are being briefed now and I am getting everything in the air to support the mission. I also doubled the CAP just in case,” Toland reported.
The lines on Lineman’s face eased. “Very good, Captain. We are getting ready to sink the Russian’s only aircraft carrier in the Atlantic and open up the skies again. If the Air Force wants to do some cleaning up after that, then be my guest. We in EMCON (emission control)?”
“Yes sir. No emissions except for Link 16 until they begin their attack or you say go.”
“Good. Let their first indication we are here come from a bomb blast. Now get on this, Captain. No slip ups,” Lineman demanded.
Because they had all been waiting for three hours, the pilots were ready and anxious to get going. The thought that they might actually sink ships like the old days had them all eager to go. The crews had already loaded the weapons on the planes in anticipation of the attack. As a result, the additional CAP took off just twenty minutes after the order was given. The mixture of older F-18s and the newer F-35s began launching from each of the three catapults on the ship. Because of their stealth capabilities, the F-35s went high, while the 18s stayed low to the water. Not a radio was keyed. Each pilot lined up with their squadron leader and turned toward the target 300 miles away. Flying at around 500 miles an hour, it wouldn’t take long.
Leading the Lightnings, Commander Jake McClusky had told his people to spread out, but maintain visual contact with the others. If there was a problem, they were to follow him wherever he went. He had taken the squadrons up to 20,000 feet. Although his receivers were seeing the same emissions they had seen on the ship, he was confident that the F-35 Lightnings would remain undetected. From up that high, he could see out a long way.
The McClusky name was well known in naval aviation. His great grandfather, Wade McClusky had led the squadrons from USS Enterprise against the Japanese at the Battle for Midway. His father had told him stories about what his great grandfather had done and when McClusky had earned his wings at Pensacola, the whole family was there to see him follow in his footsteps.
In a way, what they were about to do was very much like Midway. The lower squadrons were going in like the torpedo planes had done. He and his fighters were up high to attack from above and hopefully draw off any fighters. With the way the Russians were using their radars, he was surprised they hadn’t already run into them.
After only ten minutes of flying, McClusky was getting concerned. From this altitude, they should have seen any large formations of ships by now. Most people didn’t know that it was the white wake that aviators could see before anything else. All he could see was open sea. True, there were some spotty clouds, but not enough to hide under. Still under radio silence, he couldn’t voice those concerns. Instead, he and his squadrons continued on course. If the enemy was steaming slowly, there would be no wake to give them away.
Ten minutes more and McClusky’s concerns were growing. He looked over at his wingman, who was showing some concern of his own. Surely, this could not be a dry run. McClusky threw up both hands to signal his frustration. They continued on.
Commander Dick Reiner was leading the F-18s down below. At his altitude, he had no expectations of seeing the enemy ships until within twenty miles of them. That would change in just five minutes when he would switch on his radar to guide them in the rest of the way. Their task was to fire off Harpoons first, then follow them in for low level bomb runs. Two in the squadron were carrying anti-radiation missiles in case the Russians locked on. Three had been ordered to jettison their bombs and switch to fighter mode if Russian fighters came in. No matter what, they would get through.
Watching his clock, when the time came, he switched on his radar only to find two ships ahead of them. ‘This ain’t right,’ he said to himself. Using the voice recognition software in the Link 16, he said, “This isn’t right. There’s only two ships out here. Group two, break left and form up with four. One and three join up with me. We’re going to see what we’re up against,” he ordered. His words were printed on each screen in the force.
While most of the squadron pulled away to the left, Reiner and his two wingmen went on in. At fifty miles he toggled off his Harpoon and watched it fly ahead. His section sent their missiles ahead as well. They watched two distant spots on the horizon begin to grow before them. “They are an old Kashin class destroyer and a Nanutchka corvette. Both seemed to be brimming with antennas,” Reiner sent on the link. Reiner watched as the ships launched missiles to try and intercept the Harpoons. One Harpoon exploded midair, but the others continued on, striking the ships several times, and sending flames and debris high into the air. Two more missiles were fired just before the Harpoons hit and both flew straight for Reiner and his wingmen. “Missiles, break!” he shouted into the radio as he switched on his countermeasures. The three planes broke away with flares popping out behind them. At first, the missiles seemed to follow, but Reiner noticed that the one following him was veering away. Obviously the countermeasures were working. The missile streaked past over 200 yards away without going off.
It didn’t work as well for one of his wingmen. The second missile exploded within twenty feet of her F-18, sending fragments into her port engine and setting the fuel alight. He could see her struggling to get control of the aircraft, but within seconds, it exploded around her. She hadn’t had time to eject.
Angry at what had happened, Reiner turned his aircraft back toward the Russian ships. He was gratified that his other wingman had kept up. He gave up on the link and keyed the radio again. “Zero one to zero three, follow me in,” he said.
The two F-18s banked back toward the destroyer burning fiercely in the distance. The Nanutchka was gone. The destroyer was listing to starboard with four gaping holes in her side. The crew was scampering all along her deck trying to put out fires. He saw one of the gun mounts turn. Signaling his wingman, he selected two of the guided bombs he had aboard. When close enough he let them go. The munitions did as they were designed, plowing straight toward the helpless destroyer. Both of Reiner’s bombs hit their target. He flew over the ship and banked hard to star
board, then watched pieces of the ship fly upwards from his two bombs and again as his wingman’s weapons struck. The old Kashin rolled over. Reiner and his wingman circled twice, but the last they saw was the stern tilting up in the sky before the final plunge.
McClusky watched from his vantage point and cussed. This was about as screwed up as Hogan’s goat. Somebody would pay for this screw up. Remembering what the intel officer had said, he keyed his link access. “All flights, follow me,” he ordered, turning his aircraft to the northwest. Somewhere out there was an enemy carrier. He was going to find it.
Aboard the Kennedy, Lineman and Toland listened to what had come out over the radio and on Link 16. Lineman reached up and keyed a radio to talk to the airmen. Toland watched in horror as the red transmit light came on. He instinctively knocked the microphone out of Lineman’s hand. “What the hell do you think you are doing, Admiral!” he demanded.
“Watch yourself, Captain, I need to talk to those pilots,” Lineman said.
“Well, you just gave away where we are by keying that mike. And for what? A Kashin,” Toland exclaimed. “A godamned Kashin! One of the oldest ships in their fleet. You better hope those people find that carrier or you may find out we are the target instead of them!” Toland said in disgust. He punched the bitch box. “Pri Fly, Strike. Launch the Hawkeye.”