by Larry Bond
Fear for the tanker gripped the frigate captain. They were still too far away to attack with the rockets; they’d need at least another three minutes before they were close enough. The submarine would certainly shoot long before then. He needed to do something now, or that tanker was doomed, but what? Sanming wasn’t equipped with ASW torpedoes, and her helicopter would never be able to take off in time.
“Fire ASW rockets!” Ma shouted in desperation.
The OOD looked up, surprised. “But sir, we aren’t in range yet.”
“I know that, damn it! Fire anyway!” roared Ma. He could only hope that the submarine’s inexperienced captain was a little gun-shy and would choose to evade rather than press home the attack.
From the ship’s bow, the two six-tubed launchers started spewing rockets at regular intervals. Arcing gracefully in the air, they pitched over and struck the water in a preset oval pattern a little over a kilometer ahead. Acrid smoke billowed around the bridge until the wind of the ship’s passage swept it away. Seconds later, the water boiled as the twelve depth bombs exploded. As the smoke cleared, Ma could see his crew busily reloading the launchers.
“Captain,” sang out the bridge phone talker, “sonar reports they are being jammed. Last good bearing to the submarine was one one nine, range two point five kilometers.”
Ma swore but nodded. The submarine had dropped a noisemaker. He’d expected this, but it still made his job considerably harder. Running back into the bridge, he stopped at the plotting table and looked at the sub’s reported positions. She had been drawing right, it was reasonable for a submarine to change course after deploying countermeasures, but her commander would also want to disengage. After a moment of assessing, he acted. “Helmsman, come right to course one two five.”
“Captain!” shouted the phone talker. “Sonar reports multiple passive contacts clearing the jamming zone! Moving at high speed, drawing left, bearing zero nine eight!”
Ma hung his head in despair—torpedoes! He bolted for the port bridge wing, and raised his binoculars. He didn’t have to wait long. Less than a minute later, a huge column of water formed under the tanker’s bow. A second weapon detonated just a little aft of the first. The bow, torn free from the rest of the ship, was pushed under by the force of the tanker’s momentum. Giant geysers of black oil erupted from ruptured tanks. A third blast jumped out of the water farther aft, under the bridge. The damaged hull buckled from the explosive shock and the heavier aft section was literally wrenched free. Flames ignited around the stern of the tanker, sending a huge column of pitch-black smoke skyward. Lian Xing Hu was dead, murdered by the underwater assassin.
Seething, Ma screamed into the bridge, “Where is the submarine!? Find that bastard!”
“Sir, sonar reports an active contact bearing one two eight, range one point one kilometers,” announced the phone talker.
Ma smiled. The enemy was right where he thought she’d be. And this time she was within range. “Fire ASW rockets!” he bellowed.
The bow of Sanming was once again covered with fire and smoke as the two launchers disgorged their contents. Ma watched with satisfaction as the bombs exploded, heaving the water up in a neat chain of white circles. He had just turned to head back into the bridge when he felt his body being lifted from the deck. Confused, he struggled to find his feet, but before they touched back down, the ship lunged again and Ma was slammed into one of the bridge wing frames. Dazed, his head wracked in pain, Ma attempted to stand, but his left hand slipped off the railing. He stopped to look at his hands, and after straining to get his eyes to focus, he saw they were covered in blood.
In the distance, he could hear someone shouting, “Mayday, Mayday…” Ma thought it sounded like the officer of the deck, but he wasn’t sure. Finally fighting to his feet, the captain found it difficult to stand. The ship had a pronounced port list. Still confused, Ma looked aft. What he saw left him quivering. The ship had been torn in two, just forward of the stack. The aft portion was taking on water fast, as he could see huge bubbles of air around its shattered hull. With an almost perverse fixation, Ma stared as the aft section first went vertical, then plunged beneath the waves. He was still watching the swirls when the rest of the ship jerked to port. Between the dizziness and his slippery hands, Ma lost his grip and was thrown over the railing. He hit the water flat on his back, knocking the air out of him. The pain in his head was excruciating.
Ma fought his way back to the surface; his body in agony with each stroke. It seemed like an eternity before he finally cleared the water. Coughing and gasping, he grabbed a life preserver that was floating nearby. Safe for the moment, he struggled to turn in the water and see what was going on. As Ma turned around, he was just in time to see his beloved frigate roll over and come crashing down upon him.
3 September 2016
0225 Local Time
By Water
Halifax, Nova Scotia
Mac had fallen asleep at his desk for the third day in a row. He was barely semiconscious when he heard the electronic ding signifying the arrival of a new e-mail. Groaning, he began searching for his glasses with his right hand. They had to be somewhere on this desk. After failing to find them, he patted his head and discovered his glasses hanging precariously from his ears. Pulling them down over his eyes, Mac sat up straight to look at his screen. The sharp pains accompanying the crunches and pops were an unpleasant reminder that he was too old for this kind of thing.
As his eyes came into focus, he saw that he had received over two dozen e-mails since he had dozed off. But it was the subject line from a colleague at the Keelung Port Authority in Taiwan that grabbed his attention.
From: ShipKeeper
To: Mac
Subj: URGENT—More East China Sea Attacks
Things are heating up in the East China Sea, Mac. Another tanker was attacked, Lian Xing Hu’s EPIRB went active at 1412 Hotel time. The ship was en route to the port of Shanghai with a cargo of crude oil. No voice communications could be established. Ship data as follows:
GRT: 43,153 tons
DWT: 75,500 tons
Length: 229 meters
Beam: 33 meters
Max Speed: 14.8 knots
Call Sign: BOGK
But it gets worse. At 1414 Hotel time the PLAN Jiangwei II class frigate Sanming (FF 524) issued a Mayday over Channel 16. The individual on the Chinese frigate was near panic and said the ship had been torpedoed while prosecuting a submarine that had just attacked a tanker. The posits for the two vessels put them very close to each other. Whoever is behind these attacks, they’ve just upped the ante. Nothing good will come of this.
Mac had to read the e-mail twice, just to make sure it said what he thought it said. He then looked at his watch. The attacks were not even fifteen minutes old! The fact that the Chinese frigate used the international distress channel meant everyone and their brother would know about this attack soon. An attack on a warship was big, big news. He typed out a quick acknowledgement of the e-mail and promised to get back to him later. Fumbling for his cell phone, Mac chuckled with sadistic delight; he was going to wake Ms. Laird up this time. As he pulled up his speed-dial list, his eyes caught an earlier e-mail from a friend in the Philippines. He was a fisherman by trade, but he also had great sources of information that kept him clued in on anything going on in the Spratlys. Mac put the phone down and clicked on the e-mail.
From: Tag Fishrmn
To: Mac
Subj: Rumors are True
Regarding rumors of China invading islands in the Spratlys, it’s true. Attached is a photo of Chinese landing craft from a friend at Loaita Island—19 nm southeast of Thitu Island. Both of these islands are claimed by the Philippines, and are not part of this tanker war—we don’t have any subs. So why is China doing this? Please post on your blog. Thanks man.
Opening the file, Mac saw a line of three air-cushion landing craft and a Chinese Type 071 amphibious assault ship in the background. The image was of poor quality, but i
t was clear enough for Mac to identify the vessels. His heart began to pound. Tag was right, the Philippines couldn’t possibly be involved in the submarine campaign, and yet here was a photo of Chinese marines coming ashore on a Filipino-claimed island. This war is getting way out of hand, he thought.
He grabbed his phone and hit Christine Laird’s number. While her phone rang, Mac pulled up his now all-consuming blog covering the tanker attacks and changed the name from “Chinese Tanker Attacks” to “The Great Pacific War of 2016.” He had just finished when a very sleepy woman’s voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Christine, it’s Mac, and I have some very disturbing news.”
12
DECLARATION
4 September 2016
1210 Local Time
Shinjuku Gyoen
Tokyo, Japan
They’d bought bento lunch boxes and gone to the park to eat. Admiral Kubo still had business at the Maritime Staff Office, located nearby in the Shibuyun district, although these days he was spending most of his time in Yokosuka, at the fleet headquarters.
In earlier days, the Shinjuku Gyoen had been the private estate of a noble family, later taken over by the Imperial house. It was now administered as a national park. Similar to Central Park in New York, it was the largest green space in the Tokyo metroplex, a natural world set among the steel and concrete sprawl.
They’d picked the English formal garden, along with what seemed like most of Tokyo, salarymen and office ladies enjoying a break from the muggy summer heat. Kubo and Komamura had both dressed casually, in slacks and open-collared shirts, as if they’d spent the morning at the links.
Kubo had arranged the meeting, with information to share and questions to ask. Komamura was more than willing to meet with someone he now thought of as a close friend. The admiral had started by asking Komamura for details on China’s oil status, and the professor was pleased with the questions he asked. It was clear those “udon economics lessons” had not been wasted. His answer was no different than the one he’d given Hisagi a few days ago—the Chinese were not going to buckle this week.
Then it had been Komamura’s turn to be the pupil. Kubo actually looked left and right, as if checking for eavesdroppers. “Last night, Kenryu reported being attacked as she approached a tanker.”
Komamura’s alarm was clear in his expression. “She must have survived, or she would not have been able to report. But how did the Chinese find her?”
“We don’t think it was a Chinese submarine. Captain Zaraki had a good solution on his target and was just outside firing range. He’d just opened his outer tube doors when a powerful active sonar pulse struck his submarine. It was so strong that it was audible inside the pressure hull.”
“That meant he was close by,” Komamura offered. “But you said that submarines rarely use their active sonars.”
“That’s right,” Kubo agreed, “but one of the few times it might be used is if the attacker is not sure of his fire control solution. Then he would send a ‘ranging pulse’ to confirm a target’s position just before firing. If you’re about to shoot, revealing yourself with active sonar is not as important.”
“And was he fired on?” Komamura asked.
“Zaraki didn’t wait to find out. He deployed a noisemaker and maneuvered violently to evade any possible torpedo. He heard nothing on passive sonar, either from a torpedo or another submarine. Since our standing orders are to avoid any warship capable of detecting a submarine, and he’d depleted his battery avoiding the unknown submarine, he abandoned his attack on the tanker and reported to us.”
“And there was no further sign of the other sub.”
“The attack came from almost the same bearing as the tanker. It may be that the submarine was masking its own noise with the tanker’s.”
“Isn’t that hazardous for the sub, staying that close to another ship?”
Kubo nodded. Finishing his meal, the admiral tucked his chopsticks into the box and replaced the lid. “Zaraki transmitted his recordings of the sonar pulse to us, along with his request to be immediately relieved from command.”
“Because he allowed himself to be detected by another submarine, who may have recorded his acoustic signal and thus revealed our identity to the Chinese.” Komamura was sympathetic. “I can understand his distress.”
“Zaraki is very dedicated. He certainly was detected, although we are not going to relieve him. In this case, we don’t have to worry about our identity being compromised, because our analysts have identified the signal as coming from an American BQQ-5 sonar.”
“An American?” Komamura was surprised, which grew to shock as he considered the implications. “So not an attack. But then what?” It was distressing enough to discover an American submarine in the area, and near one of China’s vessels, but interfering in Kenryu’s attack?
“We were hoping your wisdom could give us some insights, sensei.”
“Please don’t use that word,” Komamura protested. “My wisdom hasn’t gained us much, and has set us all on a dangerous path.”
“Please,” Kubo persisted. “You are not so close to the problem. I have a theory, which my staff disagrees with, and I need another viewpoint.”
Komamura closed his own lunch box, long since finished, took the admiral’s, and threw them into the trashcan next to the bench. He stood, and the two men began strolling along the paths that twisted through the park. Ahead and behind, the security men who had watched them eat stood and walked as well.
Komamura sighed, working through the news as it followed its own path in his mind. Having heard about this just a moment ago, he needed to grasp all the implications. Finally, he replied, “An American submarine prevents a Japanese submarine from attacking a Chinese tanker. Has the world gone mad?”
“One fool on my staff suggested that Americans defending Chinese ships meant they had formed an alliance.”
Komamura stated flatly, “No. That gains the Americans nothing. I believe this is their response to us not properly answering their diplomatic note. The timing of the incident is consistent with this hypothesis.”
“Defending Chinese ships?” Kubo asked. “What does that accomplish?”
“Not defending them so much as frustrating us. It shows that they can’t be ignored, that they are involved whether we want them to be or not. Which was always true,” added Komamura.
“But it was your recommendation to not give an answer,” Kubo protested.
“And it still is. We don’t want the Americans joining the fight.”
Kubo said, “Eventually, the Chinese will have proof they can take to the world, and they will bring the war to our countries. When that happens, we might welcome the Americans’ help.”
“Both the Americans and Chinese have nuclear weapons. If the Americans were to become directly involved, and the course of the war favors us, as China faces defeat, she will become desperate. She could demonstrate her resolve to use nuclear weapons without actually striking the American homeland by using one of us as a target.”
The admiral paused for half a beat, before continuing to walk. “I had not considered that.”
“It is my nightmare,” admitted Komamura. “Our goal is to inflict crippling economic damage on China before they have a chance to strike back effectively. We must focus on that task, and continue moving forward.”
“So will the Americans continue interfering?” Kubo asked.
“It’s likely. Only experience can tell what effect they will have on Chinese losses. Have you decided what our subs will do if they detect an American submarine?”
“That’s easy. Definitely not fire at it,” the admiral replied. “That will be my recommendation to the working group. That, and send out more submarines to compensate for American interference.”
Komamura asked, “Have you made a recommendation about what we should do when China calls out the alliance openly?”
“Those plans are ongoing, but yes, a plan is in plac
e.”
“Then please tell the working group my recommendation is that we continue as before.”
4 September 2016
1600 Local Time
PLAN Frigate Yancheng, Hull 546
Yellow Sea, South of Qingdao, China
Yancheng was only four years old, and Jiang Wu was only her second captain. She was sleek and clean in her light gray paint, with an angled superstructure designed to reduce her chance of being detected by hostile radars. She was armed with first-line missile systems to engage surface and air targets. But more to the point, she carried a helicopter and a towed array. The Type 054A frigates were the most capable anti-submarine platform in the PLAN.
Looming dangerously close, the tanker’s aft deckhouse blocked Jiang’s view forward and to starboard. Following the guidance of the experts at North Sea Fleet headquarters, Commander Jiang had tucked Yancheng in tight against the tanker’s stern.
Motor vessel Da Qing 435 was laid out like most tankers, with a long, low hull, a slightly higher bow, and a deckhouse at the stern, housing the propulsion plant, the crew’s quarters, and the bridge, all clustered in a single high superstructure. Hopefully, a submarine on a periscope approach wouldn’t notice the smaller frigate behind the deckhouse’s bulk. More important, the noise of the frigate’s engines should be hidden by the tanker. The Type 054As, designed with sub-hunting as one of their missions, had a quieter acoustic signature to begin with, while the tanker’s diesels sounded like a New Year’s celebration.
Thanks to the tanker’s noise, the frigate’s bow sonar was nearly useless, but the passive towed sonar array, streamed two kilometers astern, was working well. It was more sensitive than the bow sonar, and while the forward-looking beams would be filled with the tanker’s noise, the other beams that looked past the tanker were unaffected. That would give them their first warning.
Ever since rendezvousing with Da Qing 435 two days ago, Jiang had lived either on the starboard bridge wing or in the sonar cabin. The two ships had followed the shipping lanes along the China coast, first east, then curving north. Plodding at twelve knots, the tanker’s best speed, it would take another day to reach Dalian harbor and the oil piers.