by Clancy, Tom
10.
Rescue
Cheyenne’s new orders came through on her floating wire communications antenna. Mack was still thinkin about the fact that the Chinese had Akula II class SSNs, and wondering how many other surprises he would have to face before this war was over.
One more, at least, he realized as he read over the new orders. At least one more.
Mack called for a wardroom meeting in half an hour and then headed to his stateroom as he read over the orders again. He could have called the meeting immediately, but he wanted to thoroughly examine the details of these new orders.
Thirty minutes later, the captain was seated at his normal position at the head of the wardroom table when the other officers entered. Mack didn’t wait for the normal exchange of greetings and other pleasantries. As soon as the others took their seats he began to speak.
“As you may have guessed from this meeting, we have received new orders.” He nodded at the printout lying on the table before him. “You all, I’m sure, remember the United Fuels Corporation prospecting ship, Benthic Adventure. She was seized by the Chinese back in late July. That seizure, it turns out, is what started this war we are now fighting.”
The officers around the table stirred at that. They knew that Mack wouldn’t be bringing this up now unless it impacted on their current mission.
“Thus far,” Mack went on, “the Chinese had been using the ship for drilling operations around the oil fields in the Spratly Islands.” He paused for a moment, glancing around at each of his assembled officers. “The reason I say the Chinese ’had’ been using the ship for drilling is because at 2300 last night, elements of the U.S. Navy’s SEAL Team One were inserted by helicopter from Independence, boarded, and recaptured Benthic Adventure. Which means, among other things, that we won’t have to worry about the ASDS (Advanced Swimmer Delivery System) vehicle. So far, the Chinese have yet to realize that the ship is now back under American control.”
Mack paused again, smiling at the thought of the Chinese’s reaction when they learned. Then he sobered and went on, “The Chinese, of course, will find out soon enough. Benthic Adventure is now leaving the Spratly Islands under the protection of two Ticonderoga class cruisers, Gettysburg and Princeton. We are to join this convoy as soon as they clear the shallow water of the Spratly Islands. I have already directed the navigator to plot the most expedient course for the rendezvous point in order to meet up with the escort group as quickly as possible.”
Several questions were asked of the captain who then dismissed the meeting and headed to the control room to find out from the navigator what timetable they could expect on their voyage to meet the convoy group.
Several hundred miles away, some other members of U.S. Navy SEAL Team One had been inserted into the Spratlys and had begun fortifying their new home. For the next few days, their teammates on board would make every effort to take Benthic Adventure out of danger. In the meantime, their job was to deploy Stinger antiaircraft missiles in positions near the probable routes of attack for any enemy aircraft or ships.
These missiles, however, as the SEAL team knew, were more of an emotional security blanket than any real support. Benthic Adventure’s real protection was provided by the two Aegis cruisers, Princeton (CG-59) and Gettysburg (CG-64), two of the most capable warships in the entire U.S. Navy.
The Aegis warships had been designed to protect American aircraft carriers from massive Soviet air attacks, and these vessels also were equipped with the latest technology in antisubmarine and antisurface warfare. These two warships had sailed from Pearl Harbor as part of the Independence CVBG and had been waiting with Independence until they received word that the SEALs had recaptured the United Fuels prospecting ship. Once the capture was confirmed, Princeton and Gettysburg sailed at flank speed to Benthic’s position and were now providing an escort out of the shallow Spratly Islands area.
The entire group would be glad once they reached deeper water. Once there, Cheyenne would be able to join them and take over their antisubmarine warfare patrols. Each of the warships’ two Seahawk helicopters had been working nonstop attempting to track any submarines that might pose a threat to their mission, but they weren’t as well equipped for this as Cheyenne.
“What’s our time of arrival for rendezvous off the Spratly Islands?” Mack asked.
The navigator looked up from the quartermaster’s chart he’d been studying. Cheyenne was running at the ordered depth of four hundred feet and twenty-six knots as they approached the islands from the north, having earlier departed the Paracels. “We should be there within seven hours,” he said.
“Come to periscope depth as soon as we’re sure that there are no surface ships in the area,” ordered the captain. “I want to send a message to Gettysburg and tell them what time they should expect us.”
Cheyenne proceeded to periscope depth and transmitted the SSIXS message over her communications mast to the Ticonderoga cruiser escort group. They had been running with their TB-23 thin-line array deployed for several hours now, but had not detected any sonar contacts other than biologics, the undersea life of the South China Sea.
As soon as Cheyenne arrived in position to work with the escort ships, Captain Mackey would be in charge of ASW operations. Benthic Adventure would stay in the center of the group, with Gettysburg and Princeton to her left and right respectively. In order to cover the group’s blind spots to their rear, the cruisers would take turns deploying their SQR-19 towed arrays, and their SH-60B helicopters would provide long-range, over-the-horizon radar coverage, thus giving the group a 360-degree buffer zone protecting the recaptured vessel. Cheyenne would run quietly in advance of the group.
Time passed quickly. Five and a half hours later, Cheyenne’s sonar supervisor advised the captain that they had detected the Ticonderoga cruisers to their south. Upon hearing this, Mack again went to periscope depth and transmitted their location to the escorts, with an updated ETA and his own tonal map.
The sonar operators on board Princeton detected Cheyenne’s knuckle soon afterward, and recognized Mack’s sonar signature quickly. Mack had realized early on that the top speed of the convoy had never gone above twelve knots. This was, he correctly guessed, Benthic Adventure’s top speed.
After making her transmission, Cheyenne began receiving updated information on the cruisers’ new course, heading 270. The three surface ships were to sail in this direction in order to meet up with the USS Independence.
Naval intelligence had reported numerous Chinese surface and submarine groups operating in the area between the Spratlys and USS Independence. That didn’t bother Mack, though. Cheyenne could handle the ASW mission, and the Aegis cruisers would easily deal with any surface or air threats.
As soon as the group left the shallow portion of the waters near the Spratly Islands, Cheyenne was once more in her element. Mack ordered the OOD to proceed to four hundred feet and patrol the area in front of their escort group.
Sprinting several thousand yards ahead of the group and then waiting, Cheyenne detected her first contact less than an hour later. The TB-23 was receiving tonals on this contact at quite a distance, which indicated that the signal’s source was not making any effort to be quiet. Still, it was more than an hour before they were able to provide enough information to the BSY-1 computers to determine range with any reasonable degree of accuracy.
“Conn, sonar, we’ve got two positive submarine contacts, probable second convergence zone. Both are making turns for thirteen knots, bearing 310. The contacts are coming from the northwest and are closing.”
Cheyenne was currently operating about 14,000 yards in advance of the surface group. Mack did a quick mental calculation and determined that the enemy submarines were roughly sixty miles from Benthic Adventure.
Mack didn’t have to guess at the orders those two enemy submarines were operating under. They were headed in their direction in an effort to intercept the convoy and destroy as many American ships as possible. The fact
that they were coming from the northwest indicated that they were part of the Chinese task group originating at Zhanjiang Naval Base.
Mack couldn’t know whether word had reached China yet that Benthic Adventure had been liberated, but he was sure that as soon as they learned that fact they would make every effort to destroy it and embarrass the United States.
“Conn, sonar,” the sonar supervisor reported, “those two sonar contacts have now been positively identified as Romeo class diesel attack submarines. I estimate that they are ten thousand yards apart. Their speed is constant at thirteen knots based on the blade rate.” Thirteen knots meant that they were in a hurry.
The old Romeos were China’s most numerous submarine class, and Mack knew that China had dozens of them. He was also sure that this would probably not be the only attack headed in their direction.
“Captain,” the communicator said, tapping Mack on the shoulder in order to get his attention. “Gettysburg just sent us a message. Their radar has picked up three contacts that they think are Chinese missile boats, and they are asking if we have detected them or any other warships in the area.”
Mack analyzed the situation quickly and decided to bring Cheyenne back to periscope depth. He wanted to tell the cruisers about the Romeos they had detected, but before he could give the order sonar had another urgent report.
“Conn, sonar, we just picked up five fast attack craft headed in our direction, on nearly the same bearing as the Romeos. They’re running at twelve knots, sir, and we can tell that they’re operating very close together.”
More information was flowing through the computers, and Mack walked into the sonar room to get the information as soon as it was available.
“Captain, these are definitely Chinese. They sound most like the Hainan class fast attack craft.”
That was enough for Mack. Without waiting for more information, he turned and ran back to the control room. The surface ships in the convoy he was tasked with protecting needed this information, and they needed it fast.
“Come to periscope depth,” he ordered as soon as he reached the control room.
“Come to periscope depth, aye, sir.”
Under normal circumstances, Cheyenne would have cleared her baffles at 130 feet, but Mack ordered her to go directly to periscope depth. There simply wasn’t time to do everything by the numbers, and he was confident that he had control of the tactical situation and the current contacts.
Once the message was sent, Cheyenne proceeded immediately to 247 feet without waiting for an answer. They could receive confirmation via the floating wire. She only needed to be at periscope depth to transmit messages, not to receive them.
On board Gettysburg, the convoy group commander immediately realized the seriousness of this situation. The submarines he wasn’t too worried about—they were Cheyenne’s responsibility, and he had absolute confidence in Captain Mackey and his crew. The surface ships were a different matter. They were up to him, but he and his crew had been well trained to deal with situations like this one.
Princeton immediately launched one of her Seahawk helicopters in the direction of the Chinese task group. In order to increase its range, the SH-60 was unarmed for this mission. It would have to loiter for some time and get accurate data on the Chinese ships headed for the Ticonderoga group. The SH-60s from Gettysburg would stay ready in case Cheyenne needed any help with the two submarine contacts.
Nine hundred feet above the South China Sea, Seahawk 309, assigned to the USS Princeton, searched the sea with her powerful radar. It didn’t take long to detect their targets. From their vantage point high above sea level, the operators on board could see much farther, both with their eyes and with their instruments.
On board Cheyenne, sonar detected the SH-60 launch.
“Conn, sonar, the towed array just detected a helicopter flying overhead,” reported the sonar supervisor.
Mack assumed it was a Seahawk from the Ticonderoga group, heading out to get a better look at those attack craft headed in their direction. Either way, he didn’t have time to worry about it. Cheyenne’s primary responsibility was those two Romeos, Masters 83 and 84, and Mack set about taking care of them before they could threaten the convoy.
“Increase speed to thirty-two knots,” Mack ordered. At that speed, Cheyenne would be within Mk 48 range of the two Romeos within an hour—less if the Chinese submarines continued at their current speed. He also ordered battle stations manned.
Cheyenne picked up speed rapidly. Mack kept his towed array deployed to detect any other sonar contacts that might be in the area, but his first priority was killing the Romeos. He knew very well that the Ticonderoga cruiser group above would be more than a match for the surface boats headed toward the group.
The Chinese missile boats sped forward, confidently. The five Hainan fast attack craft had been scrambled from Zhanjiang Naval Base several hours earlier, just one hour after the Romeo submarines had left. They were part of an all-out effort on the part of the Chinese. As soon as he had received word that the captured American oil vessel had been seized by American SEALs, the Chinese South Sea Fleet commander, Vice Admiral Wang Yongguo, decided to sink it at any cost. He ordered every available ship not already assigned to a prior mission to attack the task force escorting the vessel.
This was more a matter of national pride than of military significance, but it was a decision Vice Admiral Yongguo agreed with. The American-registered prospecting ship had been in Chinese waters—contested waters, perhaps, but Chinese nonetheless—after China had invaded the Spratly Islands. Now the Americans had recaptured the ship and the Chinese military, under direct orders from the Chinese government, wanted the ship destroyed.
The Hainan fast attack craft were generally considered to be ordinary patrol boats. They were usually armed with guns and were often tasked with mining activities. These five boats, however, had their aft 57mm guns replaced—not with the YJ-1 anti-ship missile launchers that were the usual replacement, but with two HY-2 missiles. These missiles had a maximum range of over fifty nautical miles. To take advantage of this, Vice Admiral Yongguo had ordered them to head in the direction of the Americans, hoping that at least some of their craft would get close enough to launch their missiles.
The crew on the Chinese patrol boats had been pleased with their assignment. They had long-range missiles on board. They had help beneath the surface from two diesel attack submarines. And they had a chance to strike a blow for their country.
They remained extremely confident until they heard the whoosh of a helicopter rotor fly near them from the south.
As instructed, the American SH-60 buzzed in for a close look at the five Chinese attack craft. The copilot on board the Seahawk, examining the ship through his binoculars, could tell that each of the ships had what looked like two missile tubes fitted on their aft end. He would have liked to have gotten even closer, but when the pilot tried to move in, the lead Chinese boat opened up on them with a barrage of 25mm gunfire.
The SH-60 pulled back and the pilot radioed Princeton. “Seahawk 309 to Princeton, we’ve just received small-caliber fire from the lead boat. They are fast attack craft and it looked like they are each carrying two big missiles on their aft end.”
“We copy that, 309. Is your current position safe?”
The helicopter had gained altitude and was out of danger. “Sure is,” the pilot responded. “You can launch those Harpoons anytime.”
Princeton acknowledged that, and the Seahawk took up station near the five Chinese attack boats. Her job now would be to provide target data on the surface ships, first to Princeton and then to the actual missiles in order to ensure that they hit their correct targets.
The Chinese Romeo submarines, like most older Romeo models, carried the standard sonar system given them by the Soviets many years before. Called the Feniks, the Russian word for “phoenix,” this system dated back to the 1950s. Outdated and obsolete, it was no match for an ultramodern opponent like Cheyenne
and, unlike its namesake, could not rise again from the ashes of defeat.
“What’s the range to our Romeos?” Mack asked. They had been travelling for thirteen minutes at thirty-two knots and had just slowed to get a clear picture of the events going on around them. The Romeos had continued running at twelve knots in their direction, apparently not aware that Cheyenne was stalking them.
“BSY-1 convergence zone range to the first Romeo, Master 83, is 68,000 yards, bearing 030,” the fire-control coordinator reported. “The other Romeo, Master 84, is at 69,000 yards, bearing 320.”
Mack ordered flank speed in pursuit of the closing Romeos, and secured from battle stations until the range was closed.
On board the USS Princeton, five Harpoons exploded out of their missile canisters fitted in the far aft portion of the warship. The missiles streaked fast and low, flying at sea level to avoid radar detection. They had been given the general location of the craft, but because the Chinese boats were moving at a high rate of speed and operating very close together, the missiles would be more accurate when they had direct feedback on their targets via helicopter.
But the Harpoons weren’t the only missiles in the air. Shortly after Princeton fired off its Harpoons, two smaller, thinner missiles were launched, this time from one of the Chinese fast attack craft. Within seconds, the two SA-14s, hand-held surface-to-air missiles, had reached their top speed and were homing in on the American SH-60.
The American helicopter detected the missiles as soon as they were launched, but that was already far too late. The Seahawk was too close, with no room to maneuver and no time to run. Moments later, they exploded into the bottom of the helicopter, sending it down in a burning fireball.
Princeton knew immediately that something had happened.
“Captain, we just lost contact with the Seahawk. She’s no longer showing up on the radar scope.”