B018R79OOK EBOK

by Unknown

On the flight deck, the E-2 Hawkeye began turning over its turboprop engines. Within a minute it was launched and making its way toward the last known position of the Russian carrier. It took fifteen minutes to reach its position and turn on its radar. In the back of the aircraft the operators gasped at what they saw.

  “Alpha Alpha, this is Hawk One. Multiple inbounds zero two zero, seventy five miles. I say again, multiple inbounds zero two zero, seventy five miles. CAP one, break left. Target at your three five zero, range twenty,” he began. Within another minute the fighters protecting the carrier were engaged, but there were too many enemy aircraft and way too late to stop them all.

  McClushy heard the call, but they were too far away to do anything about it. Once again, all he saw was empty ocean until he noticed a telltale wake below him. It was a small corvette going somewhere in a hurry. Matching its course, he signaled the others to keep up. Glancing at his fuel gage, he had some wiggle room and decided to use it. Ten minutes turned to twenty. As the gages moved slowly towards empty, McClusky hoped the two tankers were out there somewhere waiting for them. In a few minutes they would be beyond their reserves to get back safely.

  Ten minutes later he heard a pop from beside him. His wingman had let off a round to get his attention. His wingman was pointing to something. There, on the horizon, were ships. Signaling to the others, he began a slow descent.

  Upon receiving the warning from the Hawkeye, every ship in the Kennedy battle group lit off their radars and prepared for battle. There were a number of targets already in range of their missiles. The first to launch was USS Anzio, an AEGIS cruiser. First one, then two missiles leapt from their boxes and streaked toward their enemy. Two miles away, the Arleigh Burke, a newer DDG, began firing her missiles.

  The Russian pilots made their way in a tight formation at five thousand feet. There were four SU-25 Frogfoot attack aircraft in the first wave. Sixteen SU-33 Flankers were above and behind them in two sections. Once the carrier had signaled where the American’s were, they had changed course towards them. No radars were turned on. Like the Americans, they were relying on eyesight to get them where they needed to go. The first indication of trouble was when one of the Flankers exploded in midair. With threat receivers screaming, the first Flanker formation began to scatter as three air-to-air missiles from the F-35s slammed into the first three aircraft. The second turned to try and intercept the Americans, but by then a second volley of missiles had taken out three more of their number. Dropping their bombs and anti-ship missiles, the Flankers tried to engage the three Lightnings, only to find that three additional Lightnings had maneuvered behind them. The sky was filled with aircraft trying to get into position to attack another. Six more Flankers fell from the sky before the Lightnings broke off and zoomed away.

  Wondering what had happened, the Russians turned back toward the American carrier only to see the four Frogfoot attack aircraft be wiped out of the sky by the Standard Missiles from the ships below. With the threat receivers indicating more missiles were on the way, the rest of the planes turned and made their way home. Not before four more had been destroyed. Out of the twenty aircraft sent out, only six would return.

  As McClusky came closer he was impressed by the sight below him. The Russian formation was laid out in concentric circles around the carrier in the center. Above and to the right was a three plane CAP. A second three plane formation was on the carrier’s starboard quarter. He noticed the forward CAP suddenly turn toward the formation. He keyed his mike. “Okay, they’ve seen us. Group one break to starboard, group two break to port. Begin attack plan alpha.”

  The formation of Lightnings separated into three segments. Two went toward either side of the Russian formation while a third continued on to take on the fighters. When in range, the fighter group launched their AGM-158 Joint Air to Surface Missiles attached to pylons on the wings. Stealthy both in flight and while attached to the aircraft, they dropped free then sped toward the formation in the far distance. Once free of the missiles, the fighters jettisoned the pylons, readying the aircraft for their fighter roles. The pylons began tumbling earthward and immediately the Russian ships could see them on their radar sets. Within seconds, missiles were on their way to the targets.

  The Russian pilots had split their forces to go after the aircraft they could see turning towards either side of the formations. They could not see the fighters coming straight at them. As they settled on an intercept course, the pilots were amazed that their onboard radars still could not see what their eyes beheld. No matter, each of the Flankers carried heat seeking missiles. Once they got behind one of these aircraft, the missile would do the rest.

  The Russian surface to air missiles continued to make their way to the falling pylons. When within parameters, the warheads exploded, flinging their deadly shrapnel through the sky to strike the falling empty pylons, which continued to fall into the sea. No other aircraft were near them.

  The lead Russian pilot focused his attention on one of the planes in the American formation. In a few seconds he expected to hear the signal that his heat seekers had locked on. He heard something loud to his right, and turned to see his wingman disintegrate in a ball of fire. Quickly scanning the skies, he caught a glimpse of something coming up on his left. The American Sidewinder literally tore the rear of his plane off. Missile fragments penetrated the fuel tanks and the pilot watched flames pour from behind him. He was reaching down to pull his ejector seat lanyard when the plane exploded.

  On the opposite side, one of the Russian pilots heard his signal and loosed his own missiles just before his own plane was struck. Banking away, he maintained control of the aircraft despite seeing that one of his rudders was completely shot away. Fighting the controls, he finally wrestled control of the machine and steadied it towards his carrier when he saw the aircraft he had shot at began launching flairs behind itself. Willing the missiles on, he watched as one by one they were drawn away and flew on. Cursing, he wanted to turn back in, but his aircraft simply didn’t have the ability. He was barely able to keep it flying. His anger turned to joy when the missiles locked in on another American and flew in, blowing the F-35 out of the sky.

  He didn’t have time to celebrate. Looking to his left, and American had flown up next to his aircraft. The pilot was looking directly at him. Using hand signals, he indicated for him to eject. Shaking his head furiously, the American threw up his hands and the aircraft suddenly pulled up and moved in behind him. Now he knew what was about to happen. There was nothing else to do. He pulled the ejection handles and blew himself out of the plane just before a missile finished the job the first one had started.

  There was panic on the Admiral Kuznetsov. One by one their aircraft had been shot out of the sky and now the ships could see other aircraft visually. Their radars had been worthless, yet, when they picked up one section of planes they had successfully launched their missiles and achieved hits. They could see the explosions high in the sky. But the Americans were still coming up on their position. Without their radar and without air cover, there was not much the ships could do. Gun systems were brought to bear, but it would be a while before the aircraft would be in range. It would be a visual fight.

  The Joint Air to Surface Missiles streamed in. No one saw them until it was too late. Using Link 16, each missile had been programmed to attack a specific ship. Four went toward the Kuznetzov. Two each went to the Sovremennyy class destroyers on either beam of the carrier and one each toward the Udaloy destroyers ahead and astern. The rest of the ships were frigates and corvettes, which were no real threat to the Americans.

  Aboard the Gremyashchiy, the Sovremannyy on the carrier’s port side, Captain Monyetin had his guns turned towards the aircraft he could see on the horizon. The first missile struck just above the bridge of his ship, killing him and knocking out all the ship’s command and control functions. The second struck aft, just in front of the helicopter hanger, sending fragments down into the engine room. Within minutes, the ship was d
ead in the water.

  The other ships met the same fate. The smart missiles simply didn’t miss. In most cases, the superstructures of each ship were a shambles, knocking out the ship’s weapons systems.

  The Admiral Kuznetsov caught four of the missiles. Two struck the ship’s island structure while a third struck the flight deck. The fourth actually struck a hangar door on the starboard side, penetrating it before exploding inside the hangar bay. The exposed fuel lines running the length of the hangar were penetrated and the jet fuel began gushing out of the pipes, only to be ignited by the fires from the missile. The Admiral Kuznetsov began to burn fiercely.

  The two formations bored in from either beam. First one, then the other dropped their guided bombs onto the stricken carrier. Several penetrated the flight deck down into the burning hangar below, allowing air to fan the flames. Two more bombs dropped through the open holes in the deck and penetrated through the hangar deck, and three decks below into one of the magazines. The ball of flame soared skyward with a shattering blast that sent pieces of the ship out onto some of her escorts.

  The Kuznetsov slowed and stopped. The pilots watched as men began jumping from the ship’s decks into the sea. Another explosion blew gaping holes into another section of the flight deck, flinging men high into the air. It was the third explosion that sealed the ship’s fate. The great ship appeared to lift from the water and resettle. She immediately began listing to port. Deck gear began sliding either into the burning holes in the deck or over the side along with many of the crewmen desperately trying to get off the sinking ship.

  The list increased steadily. Soon the angled deck was awash. Steam began shooting out of the upper side as water came in contact with white hot metal. Fuel had begun pouring out from the ship, only to be ignited by her own fires. Now the water around the ship began to burn. What few men who had escaped were caught in the floating pyre. Suddenly, the ship lurched and began to roll over. On the way, the sea entered the holes in her flight deck, putting out the fires within, but it was no use. The island structure sat for a moment against the sea it was never meant to touch. It lay there almost as if the ship was taking a final look, then continued its roll until under the waves. The last thing McClusky saw as she sank was a gaping hole in the ship’s bottom where an explosion had ripped it apart.

  For many it was a sad sight. Men could be seen desperately trying to stay alive in the water. No other ships tried to go in and pick them up. They had their own troubles. McClusky keyed his microphone, “Zero one to base, scratch one flattop,” he announced to whoever would hear. He then watched as Commander Dick Reiner’s F-18s swooped in from below. Their missiles and bombs finished all but two of the escorts. Those two limped slowly to the east.

  Aboard the Kennedy, Lineman leapt with joy. “See, Captain! We got the job done. Those people were excellent. Washington will never forget what we did today,” he exclaimed. Captain Toland shook his head. “I need to slow down and get these people back home,” he said. The formation was still doing 27 knots.

  The explosion shook the ship violently. It was followed by a second. They threw the men in the carrier’s combat information center off their feet and onto the deck. Toland was struggling to his feet when the third explosion hit. He was flung backward over a console where he heard an audible snap.

  USS Texas

  “Torpedoes in the water, same bearing as the carrier!” shouted the sonar watch.

  “That does it,” the diving officer swore.

  The Captain shouted out, “What’s the bearing.”

  “Two eight five degrees, Captain. It’s coming from the other side of the carrier.”

  “Come left to two eight five. Diving officer, make your depth one thousand feet. Ahead flank, give me twenty five knots,” ordered Jacobs. “Sonar, any chance the carrier hears them?”

  “Not a chance, Captain. They are still doing twenty seven knots,” the sonar operator reported.

  “Stupid son of a bitch,” Jacobs muttered.

  The three explosions were heard by everyone as it sounded through the submarine’s hull. Suddenly, most of the sound of racing screws ceased.

  “At least we can have some quiet. Sonar, I need you to find these guys.”

  “Will do, sir,” came the reply.

  “Level at a thousand feet, Captain,” said the diving officer.

  “Very well. Get us on the other side of the Kennedy so we can do some hunting,” Jacobs said.

  USS Kennedy

  Toland stirred from his position on the deck. He tried to lift himself up but his arm didn’t want to support him. He staggered to the bitch box and was about to call out when the lights flickered out. “Damn it,” he swore. He moved to the sound powered phone talker. “Get me a damage control report,” he said.

  “Sir, Damage Control reports three torpedo hits beginning at about frame 100 and running to frame 350 all on the port side. A number of tanks appear to be open to the sea,” he paused as he listened. “There is flooding in number two and number four engine rooms. They are counter flooding to try and keep the ship level. The DCA says it’s too early to tell if she will float, sir,” the talker said. The last part of the message caught in the boy’s throat.

  Toland smiled weakly and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “That’s okay, son, we’ll get her home,” he said trying to reassure the boy.

  In the dim light of the emergency lighting he saw the young man nod. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  Toland turned to try and head up to the bridge when Lineman stopped him. “That damned submarine didn’t do its job. What are you going to do about getting those planes back aboard?” he nearly shouted.

  Toland glared at the man. “Admiral, we tried to tell you that going around at flank speed was an open invitation to a submarine, but no, you didn’t listen. Well look around you. This is the result of your efforts. I have no power and my ship may be sinking. Right now I have to try and make sure they have something to land on. Their best bet will be to bingo to the nearest allied airbase, but until I get power back, I can’t tell them much. So unless you have any suggestions, I am going to save my ship,” he scolded. Then he turned away and left the space, leaving Lineman to simmer.

  The climb to the bridge was exhausting. With only emergency lights, people were only dim shapes as they moved about. The pain in his arm was growing steadily and somehow he was feeling more and more exhausted. When he finally got to the door to the bridge the Boatswain’s Mate rushed over and grabbed him. Slowly, he helped the captain to his seat and eased him into it. “Don’t move, Captain. You look like death warmed over,” the man said as he leaned the seat back and placed Toland’s broken arm across his chest. One of the men called for a medic. Toland was taking some deep breaths. He finally looked over at his XO who was just putting down a sound powered phone. “What’s the latest?” Toland asked.

  The XO gave a sigh, “Well, we’ve taken on a ten degree list and it is holding at present. All the fuel we can transfer is now on the starboard side. I ordered the fresh water tanks on the port side emptied. There are fires in several of the maintenance spaces on the port side, but damage control is taking care of it. Water is up twenty feet deep in the number two engine room, but the damage control teams are shoring up the hole in number four. The forward reactor scrammed, but the after plant is intact. The engineers are inspecting it now. That hole in number two shorted out the main electrical switchboard. It will be a few, but we will be able to get power back to CIC and the forward part of the hangar. I was talking to the Chief Engineer. Once we have everything assessed, he can give us some speed, but wants to stay around ten knots so we don’t make the damage worse,” he reported. “We were lucky,” he said.

  Toland laid his head back on the seat. At least the ship wasn’t sinking. “What’s the chance of getting the planes back?”

  “Pretty fair for the Lightnings, but rough for the Hornets. We might manage twenty knots over the deck with the present wind. I’m not sure we can t
ake off the angle,” the XO said.

  Toland nodded. “Just do as best you can, XO. Any idea of casualties?”

  “Not yet. Right now we’re concentrating on keeping her afloat. The rest can come later. What’s the Admiral doing?” the XO asked.

  Toland chuckled. “He’s upset that the submarine didn’t do its job. God help me, I was ready to strangle him.”

  A Chief Corpsman appeared with his gear and rushed over. After a quick exam, he told them it was a simple fracture. He gave Toland a shot to ease the pain, then set the arm. He then put it in a temporary inflatable cast and told him to report to sick bay when he could.

  Aboard the Yasen Class Submarine Kazan

  After launching three torpedoes, Captain Dobrinin played it safe and moved away. They had been tracking the carrier and when she sailed right into his lap, he sent in his torpedoes. He and his crew were rewarded with three loud explosions on the bearing. The propeller noises ceased and they were certain they had sunk an American nuclear powered aircraft carrier. Heading away at a rapid pace, he stopped after a half hour to see if they could hear something. His sonar operators reported metallic noises, but except for some escorts, he didn’t hear any heavy screws.

  “You are sure there are no sounds from that carrier?” Dobrinin asked.

  “None, Captain. I can hear some destroyers, and frigates but nothing heavy,” he said.

  Dobrinin nodded his head. “And no one following us?”

  “We are well clear of any contacts, Captain.”

  Dobrinin clapped his hands together. “Good. Then we wait for a while and see what else comes along. If the American ships hang around, we may hunt us another target,” he said. Already Dobrinin was seeing a medal being placed on his chest. To be a hero of the nation would suit him just fine.