by Larry Bond
Even though the Yakhonts would be launched after his Uran missiles, the subsonic Urans would arrive after them. In the low trajectory mode, the Yakhont cruised at Mach 2.0, giving the target only moments to react as it came over the horizon. The Yakhont’s seeker package was also much smarter than the Uran’s. It could be set to home in on the signal from one specific type of radar, like the Dragon Eye radar on a Chinese guided missile destroyer. And to top it all off, as the Yakhont attacked, it maneuvered, making it a harder target than the straight and steady Uran.
Trung had time to review the tactics, and all his choices, several times as he waited for Miss Tham’s signal. They should be done soon, but the camouflage had been improvised. Was there a problem with the wind? Had the camouflage damaged the launchers or the missiles in transit, or as it was being removed?
The intercom came alive and Trung ducked back into the bridge. He’d been expecting Mai’s voice, but not his report. “Sir, our patrol aircraft reports the container ship has probably weighed anchor. She is no longer stationary. Speed is three knots and increasing.”
“Tell Miss Tham they’ve got five minutes, and recalculate the time on target.”
Mai answered quickly, “Understood.”
Trung tried to put himself on the merchant ship’s bridge. They did not have the acceleration of a warship, but all they needed was to get to ten knots or so. The wind had them facing west at anchor, and he would have to turn to sail around to the south side of the island, where the pier was located. Once the island was in the way, one of Trung’s two primary targets would disappear. But merchant ships turned slowly, especially at low speeds. Was there time to reprogram the Uran missiles on his ship? If he added waypoints …
“Sir, Miss Tham is ready, all launchers at the vertical. If we launch in sixty seconds, she launches sixty seconds after that.”
That matched his own rough calculations. Trung ordered, “Launch in sixty seconds, then.” He released the intercom key, then stepped over and closed the door to the port bridge wing. A watchstander on the other side did the same thing with the starboard door. As Trung dogged it down, a siren howled, loud even over the wind.
Trung stepped over to a small console next to the captain’s chair. As he waited, a large red button, engraved in white letters with PERMISSION TO FIRE, lit up. He immediately pressed it, holding it down for the required count of three, then walked over to the intercom. “Permission to fire confirmed.”
The Uran tubes were located midships, in the gap between the stack and the after mast. Even muffled by the wind, and through the closed doors, the roar of the rocket motors was loud, and seemed to go on forever.
Missiles burst out from the launch tubes at three-second intervals, climbing and immediately turning sharply east. A rocket booster, with a flame as long as the twelve-foot missile, burned for a moment before the missile’s turbojet engine took over. At that distance, Trung could only make it out as a small black shape, skimming the water.
The frigate’s eight missiles were all gone within ten or fifteen seconds, by his watch, and as Trung undogged the starboard door, the missile officer’s voice came over the intercom. “Launch successful, all eight weapons functioning normally.”
Trung used his glasses to check the Molniya missile craft closest to him, HQ-375. She was still launching. The Molniyas carried sixteen missiles instead of eight, in four quad launchers on either side of the ship, and each missile appeared on a column of flame as it erupted from the launcher, followed seconds later by the next one. The wind of the ships’ passage swept the exhaust off the ships’ decks, but it formed a billowing gray smoke trail behind each vessel. The beginning marked when each ship had started firing, and its abrupt end showed when it was complete.
A radio speaker on the bridge let him hear the reports as the four missile craft reported successful launches. Keying the intercom, Trung ordered, “Mai, execute turn to two two five, all ships flank speed.” They’d done their duty for the Socialist Republic, and now it was time to look to their own welfare.
Lanzhou
Admiral Sun was still speaking to General Tian. With the pier cleared, the container ship would dock, and Tien had sufficient troops to unload it, so …
“Low-altitude contact to the northwest! Missile alert!”
“Engage!” That order had come from Lanzhou’s weapons officer, and almost before he finished saying it, Sun heard the roaring forward as the destroyer’s vertical launchers rapidly salvoed air-defense missiles. Seconds mattered.
The radar operator passed information without wasting time on extra words. “Forty-five kilometers, eight contacts, supersonic! Speed … 1,320 knots—Mach 2.” The operator was speaking quickly, but the attackers had already covered half the distance to the ship during his report.
Sun watched the display, symbols moving almost too quickly to follow. Their outbound interceptors were even faster than the attackers, and the two groups came together as if pulled by strings. A string of characters appeared next to the hostile missiles—“Yakhont.” Sun grimaced. He knew what that meant, and could only hope they were lucky.
Three, then four of the oncoming missiles disappeared. It was a good result, out of five engaged, but there was no time for another salvo.
A harsh rattling sound carried through the bulkheads. The ship’s 30mm point-defense gun had opened fire, and a BANG! from the bow showed even the 100mm gun was firing, for all the help it would be. Again, no order had been given after the first one. There was no time …
Someone called “Brace!” and Sun tried to comply, then discovered he’d already done so. He barely had time to think about finding a better position when the first shock came, a crash that turned into a rumble under his feet. The deck jerked suddenly, but that was all, and Sun was starting to think about damage control when the second and third missiles slammed into the ship within seconds of each other.
This time the shock was brutal enough to knock Sun and everybody else to the deck. A pressure wave passed over him, and the stench of burning metal and plastic made him cough, then gag. One deafening crash followed another and another, and his mind gave up trying to understand what was happening.
The crashing stopped, but was replaced by a roaring sound—it was a fire, a big one, and close by. Sun could also hear screams and moans, and then metal bending and tearing, as if under great stress.
Sun pulled himself up, first kneeling, then standing, although a sharp pain ran up his left leg into his back. Battery-powered lights were the only illumination, making white beams in the haze. He could still see through the smoke, although his eyes burned.
The admiral drew a breath, coughed, then drew another and managed to croak, “Everybody topside.” Most looked at him dumbly, and he said, a little louder, “We’re finished here.”
Ly Thai To
The report from the targeting systems matched the patrol plane’s exactly. At the same moment the aircraft’s radar showed the incoming Yakhont missiles reaching one of the Chinese destroyers, the signal from the Dragon Eye radar had abruptly ceased. “The contact also appears to be slowing,” the radar operator reported.
Trung let them cheer for a moment. The linchpin of the Chinese defense, a Type 052C guided-missile destroyer, had been disabled. Perhaps it would sink, if they didn’t beach it on the island. It might limp home and eventually be fixed. But it was out of the fight.
Their own Uran missiles were only moments away.
Trung moved to the Monolit console. The combat center was much less crowded now, since they didn’t have to track the Chinese formation so closely. Instead, they watched the radar picture data-linked from the aircraft, and compared what they saw with the Monolit operator’s report.
At this point, Trung was as much a spectator as the rest of his crew. He’d made all the decisions before launching his missiles. All that was left was reporting the results and defending his ship.
“I’m getting new radars,” the operator reported. “Type 354, Type
344G, Russian MR-123 radars—those last ones are point defense.”
Mai pointed to a pair of blips. One was the stricken destroyer, the other a missile frigate. “That’s the only ship directly in their path. For everyone else, our missiles will be crossing targets.” A missile passing across a ship’s line of sight, instead of holding steady, was harder to shoot at—much harder.
With the most powerful missile ship out of action, the patrol plane had been able to get closer to the formation. Its radar was sharp enough to actually provide rough images of the different ships, and could see the Uran missiles as they closed. It was also smart enough to identify ships by class, and labels appeared next to different blips as the radar’s computer identified the vessels: two Type 054A missile frigates, a Type 052B missile destroyer, the Type 071 landing ship, a Russian-built Sovremennyy guided missile destroyer, the container ship, and two older frigates, not counting the crippled destroyer.
His eyes were on the two targets: the landing ship and the container ship. Altogether, his force had launched seventy-two missiles, an unholy amount of firepower. He’d been tempted to use part of them to attack the frigate, but it was a moving target in its patrol zone. The two primaries were stationary, or had been, and that made for easier targeting. The moving container ship was a worry, but with luck, it would not have time to get too far from the aim point.
Trung knew they wouldn’t be able to see the defender’s fire, but he could watch their Uran missiles disappearing, as defending missiles and guns had their effect. The Type 054A had a good SAM system, and it was well placed. The Urans wouldn’t attack the frigate because Trung had ordered the missiles’ radar seekers to stay off until they were past the ring of defending ships.
He tried to count, and quickly lost track. He knew that analysts would play these recordings later and count the losses, refining their estimates of the Chinese weapons systems. All he cared about now was seeing enough missiles reach their destination.
He saw an older frigate in between the missiles and the container ship. It was close enough to absorb some of the missiles. Had the captain done it deliberately?
By rights, he needed only four or five missile hits on each target to cripple it, but he didn’t want to just cripple them. Crippled ships could be repaired, their cargo salvaged. He wanted to destroy the invaders. Killing the entire formation would not be enough to satisfy him, but killing the two largest ships would be a good start.
“Captain,” Mai pointed to the radar screen, “the helicopter has disappeared.” His voice was full of concern. “How long has it been gone?”
“It didn’t land,” Trung remarked. It hadn’t approached a ship. That meant it must have climbed to a higher altitude. The Vietnamese patrol aircraft’s radar was designed to detect ships and aircraft close to the sea surface. The Chinese Helix was above the radar beam now.
“Find the helicopter’s radar! Plot its position!” Trung ordered. People scrambled around the plotting table, setting up the tracking team again.
The missiles reached the center of the formation, and Trung cheered inside every time a small radar blip reached one of the ships. “That old frigate is absorbing some of the missiles meant for the container ship,” Mai observed.
“Just find the helicopter!” Trung ordered, although the climax of the battle was hard to ignore. Clusters of blips raced toward the ship symbols and disappeared. The amphibious ship had its own point defenses. Had those missiles been shot down? Or had they reached their target? The container ship was defenseless, but the old frigate guarding her was serving much the same purpose by absorbing some of the missiles.
The radar receiver operator reported, “I can’t find the helicopter’s radar signal. It’s gone.” There was no emotion in the report. He didn’t understand what it meant. The Chinese knew that their opponents could detect the radar signal. Now Trung had no way of finding its position. Their enemy’s move was obvious: fly down the launch bearing, then snap on the radar to search for their now-fleeing attackers.
But how far would it fly? In which direction? The Chinese knew the maximum range of the Uran, but could they know that Trung’s ships had fired from much shorter range? Trung turned on the intercom. “Bridge! Double the lookouts. Keep your eyes peeled for a helicopter.”
Trung’s ships were running west at flank speed. His top speed was twenty-seven knots, but the Molniya boats could make almost forty-three, and were already several kilometers ahead. That was fine. There was no security for them in a formation.
Run, or slow and mimic fishing boats again? If they could get far enough away from the Chinese warships, then they’d be out of missile range and they could thumb their noses at the helicopter.
But it had only been a few minutes since they’d launched, then turned. The Chinese YJ-83 missiles had almost double the range of his Urans. It would take hours at flank speed to be completely clear.
“Captain, we’ve picked up the Octopus radar again.”
“What bearing?”
“Northeast, on our starboard quarter,” the rating reported.
Trung waited while Mai quickly plotted the bearings from several of the ships in the squadron. It was a neat fix. “The helicopter is about fifty kilometers aft.” Mai’s voice made it clear he understood what it meant. It had them.
Trung cursed his indecision. His heart was made of lead, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. He should have ordered his ships to slow, then searched for the helicopter. Now it was too late.
He noted the time. It would take a minute for the helicopter to report, then another minute, maybe two, for the Chinese missiles to be programmed and launched. “Tell the formation, ‘Man air-defense stations,’” he ordered.
He tried to do the math while he watched the time. Even with a destroyer and that old frigate knocked out, there were at least five ships fitted with eight cruise missiles each. Their warheads were about the same size as the Uran’s, but while it had taken more than a few missiles to knock out each of his targets, one missile hit would be enough to cripple his small frigate. And a single hit would severely damage, if not sink, the even smaller Molniya craft.
He counted the seconds, then it was time. “All ships, turn left ninety degrees now. Energize all radars.” If he’d timed it right, the Chinese missiles were in the air, and it was time for a vigorous zig away from their flight path. They were subsonic, so he expected to see them in about a minute and a half at the radar horizon.
“All radars active, Captain, all air-defense stations manned and ready.”
One minute.
Trung said, “Prepare to engage air targets to port.”
The gunnery officer repeated his order. Ly Thai To didn’t have any SAM systems, and the guns could not open fire until the last moment.
Thirty seconds. Trung left combat central and went onto the bridge. All eyes were on the portside horizon. Normally he’d reprimand the deck officer, but there was open water ahead of them for miles.
He started to step out onto the port bridge wing, but remembered the Palma weapons mount just forward of the bridge. It had two rotary 30mm cannons, and when it fired, the noise would be brutal.
Any moment now.
“Radar reports high-speed contacts bearing zero seven three!” A moment later the intercom added, “Eight missiles.” The radar operator’s report was immediately followed by Mai’s command. “Chaff.”
Dull thuds amidships would have been alarming if Trung was not familiar with the sound. Explosive charges were firing cartridges filled with reflective material into the air. Hopefully, the missiles’ seekers would find the cloud a more attractive target than his frigate.
The missiles were across the horizon now, but how far away could you see a missile, head-on, with a diameter of what? Less than half a meter? He couldn’t remember exactly. With a turbojet engine, there would be no smoke trail …
“There, on the port beam!” The lookout’s warning triggered a fusillade of fire. The Palma system roared, lik
e a giant’s chain saw cutting metal. Bright flames a meter long leaped from the muzzles. The 76mm gun on the bow thudded once, twice. Trung knew there was another rotary 30mm aft adding its own fire to the others.
Streams of tracers reached out, and that gave him a cue to his own search. They were also much closer now, and easier to spot. A puff of smoke several kilometers out marked the destruction of at least one missile. Was the chaff having any effect?
The first missile reached Ly Thai To a few seconds later. The warhead waited a few milliseconds after hitting, so that it penetrated inside the ship, rather than exploding on the outer hull plating. The explosion tore a hole ten meters in diameter amidships a few meters above the waterline. The damage was severe, but if that had been the only attacker, Ly Thai To might have survived.
Then the other three missiles arrived, at three-second intervals.
15
DELIBERATION
6 September 2016
0700 Local Time
August 1st Building, Ministry of National Defense Compound
Beijing, People’s Republic of China
Their well-appointed meeting room had become a command center. Considering that China had not fought any kind of conflict in almost forty years, Chen thought he and his staff were adapting well. Of course, knowing that they were rusty, they could have thought ahead, at least a little, Chen admitted to himself.
The room’s flat-screen display, usually used by briefers for carefully polished presentations, had been augmented by two other large displays and a standing bulletin board. Extra tables had been brought in to line the sides of the room. There was plenty of room, and they gave the new support staff places to work. Tea and coffee urns at one end of the room were always kept full. At least it was good tea.
The buzz of conversation washed over Chen, sitting at his customary place at the big table. It rose and fell as messengers arrived, or different working groups debated and discussed.
It was the pace and scope of the war. He understood that now. Chen and the other members of the Central Military Commission were used to making major decisions, of course, ones that would affect China for decades to come. But the decisions didn’t usually arrive piled one on top of another, or require split-second verdicts that could invite catastrophe. And they were all too well aware that the time they took to consider an issue was measured in lives.