Ssn (1996)

by Clancy, Tom

  Mack cleared the area to the north, not knowing he was closing on the Kilos. That was not a mistake; it was the next phase of Mack’s search plan for sanitizing the Taiwan area.

  As Mack was approaching communications (periscope) depth to report the attack on the three Akulas, radio reported that they had lost the broadcast on the floating wire. The wire was dead and would have to be changed out.

  That was a mistake, for the motor reel noise was detected by the slinking Kilos, even before Cheyenne’s radiomen had completed reeling the bad one into the ship past the line wiper.

  “Conn, sonar, torpedoes in the water, ET-80s, bearing 355 and 008.”

  “Snap shots, tubes one and two, bearings 355 and 008 respectively,” ordered the captain. Mack was not sure if the torpedoes were launched by Akulas or by Kilos. But it didn’t matter. If the culprits were Kilos, they shot first.

  “Conn, sonar, we have the submarines. They’re Kilos, Captain, single six-bladed screws speeding up. The torpedoes are heading right for them.” Mack and all of his officers, as well as all of the sonar men, knew the screw-blade configuration of every adversary. The Akulas had seven-bladed screws which helped in differentiating between the two classes. If foolhardy enough, one could also get close enough to detect steam-flow noises, which the diesels didn’t have.

  “All ahead flank. Do not cavitate. Make your depth one thousand feet,” ordered the captain.

  Cheyenne was already beneath the first layer. In less than three minutes Cheyenne was at flank speed, on course 175, and at one thousand feet, beneath the second layer. There was a deep sound channel present, something Mack would have known if he’d been able to acquire SSXBT information. As it was, he learned of its existence from the sound-velocity profiler.

  “Unit three has acquired.” Then, a moment later, “Unit four has acquired.”

  “Cut the wires, shut the outer doors, and reload tubes three and four,” ordered the captain, but they didn’t have to cut the wires. Cheyenne’s speed and course away from the torpedoes caused both wires to break right after acquisition.

  The torpedo’s guidance wires had performed beyond all expectations. They would have to inspect Cheyenne’s stern area for any signs of the thin wires being entangled in either the screw, sternplanes, or rudder.

  When out of danger from the ET-80 torpedoes, Mack slowed Cheyenne and turned to the west to listen.

  “Conn, sonar, we have two torpedoes in the water, bearings 275 and 209,” the sonar supervisor reported.

  Apparently there were more Akulas out there who had picked up Cheyenne as she ran fast and deep. Now that she had slowed, she was able to detect the torpedoes.

  “Conn, sonar, two explosions, bearings 359 and 002, estimate range 20,000 yards.”

  The Kilos, Masters 133 and 134, had experienced their first and last battle with Cheyenne.

  Mack once again increased speed to flank, launched two evasion devices, and turned away from the incoming torpedoes. As he did so, he couldn’t help wondering how many other hornets’ nests there were. He also ordered tubes three and four made ready, so that when he turned back to face the new Akulas, Cheyenne would be ready. He kept the muzzle doors shut, though, until he slowed. Once they were open, he would point the direction in which he expected the Akulas to be. Mack actually didn’t care if they were Akulas or Sierras. They had shot first.

  His orders were acknowledged and executed with Cheyenne’s usual thoroughness and professionalism. After the torpedo room reported completing the ordered evolution with the torpedo tubes, the executive officer said to Mack, “Captain, tubes three and four are ready in all respects. Both outer doors are open.”

  “Very well, fire control,” answered the captain.

  Cheyenne turned to the southwest and immediately gained contact on two Akulas. The contact was on all sonar arrays, and the tonals allowed the certainty of the classification by the sonar supervisor.

  The Akulas had been running at flank toward Cheyenne’s last known position. This was simply more stupidity from the new Chinese crews, who were obviously enjoying their high speed submarines—and Mack appreciated it. When the BSY-1 operators and the fire-control coordinator were satisfied with the TMA solution on Masters 135 and 136, he ordered, “Firing point procedures, Master 135, tube three, and Master 136, tube four.”

  The combat systems officer reported the course, speed and range of the two targets.

  “Sonar, conn, stand by.”

  “Conn, sonar, standing by.”

  “Match sonar bearings and shoot, tubes three and four.”

  “Match sonar bearings and shoot, tubes three and four, aye, sir.”

  “Tubes three and four fired electrically,” reported the combat systems officer.

  “Conn, sonar, units from tubes three and four running hot, straight, and normal,” came the report from the sonar supervisor as the two torpedoes executed their wire-clearance maneuvers.

  The torpedoes were set to run at medium speed until acquisition, at which time they would increase speed and angle up from their deep search depth beneath the layer. At that point the torpedoes would pitch up and complete their acceleration to attack speed.

  “Very well, sonar,” Mack said. “Time to acquisition?”

  “Eight minutes, thirty-five seconds, Captain,” answered the combat systems officer.

  A few minutes later Mack heard, “Both units have acquired.”

  “Conn, sonar, Masters 135 and 136 are increasing speed, cavitating heavily.”

  Sonar reported noisemakers launched by the two Akulas. Mack countered that by ordering, “Steer the weapons.” Cheyenne’s course was changed to the right by ninety degrees so the bearings to the incoming Akulas and to their stationary noisemakers would diverge. When a bearing spread was obtained, the combat systems officer reported the torpedoes on course for intercept.

  “Cut the wires, shut the outer doors, and reload tubes three and four,” ordered the captain. “Make tubes one and two ready in all respects, including opening the outer doors.”

  He knew a melee was about to occur, and he wanted Cheyenne ready.

  “Conn, sonar, we have four torpedoes in the water, between bearings 270 and 265. Both Akulas have launched again.”

  They’re also running nearly side by side, Mack thought. It was time for Cheyenne to clear datum. It was also time for more countermeasures to be launched.

  “Steady as she goes, all ahead flank. Do not cavitate. Make your depth one thousand feet.” Mack followed this with, “Rig ship for depth charge.”

  His plan was to let the countermeasures do their work while Cheyenne quietly ran away from the scene.

  Cheyenne reached flank speed, on course 085, and at one thousand feet, as the Russian torpedoes entered the baffles after the countermeasures. Sonar didn’t hear Cheyenne’s last two torpedoes as they entered their terminal homing modes.

  “Conn, sonar, two explosions in our baffles.”

  But Mack couldn’t slow yet, which meant he couldn’t turn and determine the fate of the Akulas. There was also too much reverberation to get both direct path and bottom bounce information, so no range would be available anyway.

  A short while later, though, he knew he didn’t have to turn. Sonar picked up the familiar implosions as external pressure vessels on the Russian SSNs imploded from their descent to the bottom of the northern Philippine Sea, five thousand fathoms below.

  Mack was satisfied. Seven more kills for Cheyenne, not counting the Hainan. That’s what CTF 74 and CINCPACFLT had wanted: more Akula kills. And they got two Kilo kills to boot.

  When they had run far enough that the enemy torpedoes should have run to exhaustion, the captain slowed and cleared Cheyenne’s baffles to port after proceeding above the layer. Sonar reported no contact, so Mack secured from battle stations while Cheyenne took a course toward the shallow waters of the East China Sea. There Cheyenne would search the last sector around Taiwan. The TB-23 would remain deployed for the time being, at least un
til they started their approach to shallow water. Then the TB-16 would be deployed to the short stay.

  The atmosphere aboard Cheyenne was one of happiness, but the euphoria of victory was coupled with exhaustion. As the stress level in each man slowly subsided, an unbelievable fatigue set in.

  That was the norm of submarining, when warriors returning home could sleep most of a day away. Those who did not have to continue at their watch stations crashed in their narrow bunks. There was time to sleep before they passed by the Ryukyu Islands; then it was back to being ready for anything. Even Mack finally crawled on top of his bunk, curling up to fit on the short bunk.

  The following day, as Cheyenne approached the time for coming shallow, sonar reported numerous merchant ship contacts, easily identified by their huge, slowly turning propellers. All were cavitating as if they were empty of cargo, riding high in the water.

  Mack wasn’t about to be careless, however. The Japanese supertankers had drafts of over ninety feet. Cheyenne would be cautious on going to periscope depth.

  Biologics were once again hindering the sonar search. During one of his frequent visits to the sonar room, Mack reminded the sonar operators to conduct careful tonal searches on the bearings of the merchants and the biologics. The operators had already been doing this. They remembered the submarine they had found in the biologics of the South China Sea.

  The TB-16 towed array, having been earlier deployed in exchange for the TB-23, was ordered to short stay as Cheyenne ventured inside the one hundred fathom curve southeast of Taipei. Now at periscope depth, Mack sighted an interesting cluster of smoke over the horizon. There were four different sets of smoke patterns moving north. He ordered Cheyenne to track behind them at periscope depth in the shallow water.

  Hours later, with the sea bottom once again plummeting to over two thousand fathoms, sonar reported diesel lines on the bearings of the smoke being observed. Mack went deep to catch up for a visual, running at full for the next few hours until the water started to shoal again as they approached the one hundred fathom curve of the East China Sea. He knew the contacts could not be Akulas snorkeling, but if they were Kilos Mack wanted to know what was going on.

  Cheyenne got back to periscope depth in one hundred feet of water in time to see the four sources of the now-black smoke. Four Kilos were on the surface, on a course toward the Yellow Sea, the playing grounds of China’s North Sea Fleet. Being on the surface, and apparently heading away from the battle zone of the last few days, they were no threat to Cheyenne, and Mack decided not to go after them.

  Cheyenne had done her part—for now, at least. Mack ordered the floating wire replaced. It had been flaked out in the control room, waiting to be installed.

  As the Kilos continued to the north, Mack watched them go, thinking about battles past and those yet to come. When they had steamed over the horizon, he had Cheyenne turned to the west, back toward her patrol area, and then on to Tsoying Naval Base and some well-deserved rest and recreation.

  15.

  Special Delivery

  Cheyenne arrived at daybreak, surfacing off Tsoying Naval Base for the slow transit among the seemingly never-ending junks. During his last underway from Tsoying, Mack had remembered the war stories, both from World War II and Vietnam, where the same type of junks were carrying large-caliber machine guns. Mack tried to put that out of his mind. This situation, this entire war, was different, and he didn’t believe that any of these Taiwanese junks posed a threat. Still, he was the commanding officer of Cheyenne, responsible for the safety of each and every man aboard, and he wouldn’t be fully at ease until they were safely away from the western Pacific.

  Just in case, however, he also had the M-14s safely hidden away on the bridge while maneuvering on the surface in these waters. This delighted their newest mess specialist, at least. He had been a maximum-security prison guard, a sharpshooter high in a tower adjoining the prison’s ramparts, before deciding to join the Navy. When the executive officer had learned this, Mack had granted him the guaranteed, cherished opportunity of being one of the maneuvering watch lookouts on the bridge, even before he was qualified in submarines. Being on the bridge of Cheyenne was akin to being back in his tower.

  Mack’s last briefing had not gone well, but he was looking forward to this one. For one thing, it was a patrol debriefing rather than a pre-mission briefing. Even more, though, he wanted an update on several other situations.

  He knew that Columbia and Bremerton were on station to provide additional ASW protection to the Independence Battle Group. In addition, Portsmouth and Pasadena had managed to make it safely to an area south of the Formosa Strait, having transited the Indian Ocean and South China Sea without opposition. Mack figured that was because General Yu was throwing everything at Cheyenne, east of Taiwan. Unfortunately, both SSNs were blind-sided by an unknown submarine contact before they could surface at the one hundred fathom curve. The hostile submarine tonals that both Portsmouth and Pasadena detected during the course of the attack did not correlate to any known submarine in the world, and Mack was very anxious to learn more about it.

  CTF 74 communications personnel had already readdressed each submarine’s CASREPT (casualty report) to Mack. The unknown assailant had inflicted major damage to each submarine’s stern area. Their screws had several blades peened over, and both the TB- 23 and TB-16 towed-array housings were damaged.

  Mack read these messages with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he was happy that no Pasadena or Portsmouth submariners had been hurt. On the other hand, he was saddened by the damage to the two SSNs—and by what that damage meant to him and his own crew. This had been a tough time for Cheyenne; only through the grace of God was Cheyenne still fully operational.

  Upon Cheyenne’s arrival in the vicinity of McKee, he noted that Pasadena and Portsmouth had moored to port and starboard, respectively, so they would be close for diver repair services. McKee’s cranes were already busy working over both stern areas.

  Screw replacement while still waterborne had become an art, since floating drydocks were not always readily available. Plus, neither Portsmouth nor Pasadena could have made it to Subic Bay. They’d had to be towed into port at Tsoying.

  The successful attacks had to have a tremendous emotional impact on the crews of both Portsmouth and Pasadena, but Mack could see no sign of it. No one appeared demoralized, and they worked as competently and professionally as if nothing had happened. On top of that, both submarines proudly sported their brow covers, telling the world which one was which, ship logos and all. The U.S. submarine force had long supported the policy of not painting hull numbers on the sides of the sail while operating, even in peacetime, so the brow covers provided the public relations gesture.

  Cheyenne was directed to moor outboard of Portsmouth. These instructions came from the McKee CDO over their bridge to bridge radios. When they pulled into position, Mack could see that both Portsmouth’s screw and the damaged portion of the TB- 16 array housing at the starboard stern plane, the side nearest Cheyenne, had already been replaced. These had suffered the least damage of the two sister ships. When final repairs were completed on Portsmouth’s TB-23 towed-array housing on the port side, Cheyenne would swap places with Portsmouth so that the McKee cranes could reach her for reloading weapons.

  Waiting on Portsmouth would delay Mack’s next underway for at least an additional two days, but that was all right with Mack. His officers and crew—and Mack himself—needed some time to catch their breath. Besides, he had an indication of what their mission was going to be; if he was right, Cheyenne would have to wait a bit anyway while the Chinese political situation caught up to them.

  He would have liked to make a speed run up the Taiwan countryside to Taichung. There was a place there, Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse, that served the most amazing four-inch-thick steaks. But he couldn’t do that—not now, anyway.

  A number of Portsmouth’s crewmen were exiting the forward escape trunk aft of the sail. Three of them h
ad sound powered phones dangling from their necks. Watching them, Mack could tell that the Portsmouth CDO had already passed the word belowdecks, “All line handlers lay topside. Prepare to take USS Cheyenne alongside to starboard.”

  Mack waved to the Portsmouth CO and CTF 74, who were waiting topside on Portsmouth for him, and left the bridge to go on deck himself. Before doing so, he granted the OOD permission to secure the maneuvering watch when he was ready, and to take on shore power and shut down the reactor.

  As he had been trained, Cheyenne’s OOD took care of Cheyenne’s delicate landing alongside Portsmouth, gently nudging the camel between the two SSNs. Captain Mackey was completely satisfied with his OODs’ abilities to maneuver Cheyenne in tight quarters without his having to look over their shoulders; and the maneuvering watch OOD was the best of the best.

  When Cheyenne’s lines had been doubled, the OOD secured the maneuvering watch, passing the word on the 1MC, then ordered over the 7MC, “Maneuvering, conn, take on shore power and shut down the reactor.” His last official maneuvering watch duties completed, the OOD laid below to the control room to turn over the officer of the deck duties to the in-port duty officer, Cheyenne’s CDO for the rest of the day.

  Mack had left the ship as soon as the brow was over, and was heading for McKee officer country. He expected to meet up with the COs of Pasadena and Portsmouth and to hear the details of the attacks.

  Once aboard, but before reaching officer country, Mack expressed his pleasure to CTF 74 and the Portsmouth captain at hearing that all hands were uninjured. That was all he or anyone else said about the attacks until they were within the privacy of the McKee captain’s stateroom. Mack was a big believer in keeping his crew informed, but that didn’t mean he wanted to discuss what could be highly classified information in front of unauthorized personnel.

  The chief mess specialist on duty in the McKee captain’s stateroom departed as soon as Mack and the others arrived. When he had gone, Mack exchanged greetings with the captain of Pasadena and again expressed his pleasure at the lack of injury aboard.