by Tom Clancy
Mack smiled. “She must have recharged,” he said, in a deadpan voice. “Designate the helo Master 27.”
“Conn, sonar, she got us on that one, sir — but that’s not all she painted! Captain, we’ve got another submarine out there, a Kilo class, one six-bladed screw, making turns for ten knots. It’s bearing 025, near the same bearing as the Romeo. It’s been hiding from us all this time.”
All humor was gone from the conn. Considering their situation, Mack was pleased with how well his officers and crew were handling the sudden tension. Not aware they had regained old Master 24, the Kilo was designated Master 28.
Cheyenne had just been pinged on by a directly overhead Chinese ASW helicopter, which had undoubtedly received an exact fix on their present location five hundred feet below the surface. The helo would now probably be making an MAD (magnetic anomaly detection) pass to confirm Cheyenne’s position. Mack was concerned that they would follow that up by dropping a torpedo directly on top of Cheyenne.
“Conn, sonar, the Kilo, Master 28, just picked up speed. It’s heading directly at us, making turns for seventeen knots. It must suspect that the helo gave their position away.”
“What’s the range to the Kilo?” Mack asked the fire-control coordinator.
“Twenty-four thousand yards, Captain. We’re within ADCAP range for the Kilo — it’s making lots of noise at seventeen knots. Recommend making tubes one and two ready.”
Mack nodded and initiated Firing Point Procedures on Master 28. “Torpedo room, fire control, make tubes one and two ready in all respects. Open the outer doors.”
The order was acknowledged. One minute later it was confirmed. “Tubes one and two are ready in all respects, sir. Outer doors have been opened.”
“Sonar, conn, stand by.”
“Conn, sonar, standing by.”
“Match sonar bearings and shoot tube one, Master 28.”
“Match sonar bearings and shoot tube one, Master 28, aye, sir.”
Mack then came right to clear the datum.
“Tube one fired electrically,” the combat system officer reported. That was as far as he got. Before he could report on the torpedo’s status, the sonar supervisor spoke up.
“Conn, sonar, torpedo in the water bearing 180! It’s a Chinese Mk 46 copy, Mod 2.” Mack had been correct in assigning the helo a Master number, which were usually reserved for potential threats to Cheyenne herself, or to targets of significant intelligence value.
“Cut the wire and shut the outer door,” ordered the captain. “Reload tube one.” Mack was throwing away his torpedo, and he knew it. The Kilo was too far away and maneuvering. The Mk 48 would probably not be able to acquire on its own, but right now Mack had a different torpedo to worry about.
“Left full rudder, all ahead flank, steady course 305,” Mack ordered. “Cavitate. Make your depth 750 feet.” He waited for acknowledgment and then added, “Rig ship for depth charge.”
Cheyenne’s power plant was now running at peak capacity in an attempt to get away from the deadly torpedo racing their way.
“Conn, sonar, another torpedo in the water. Master 27 just dropped a second Mk 46 on us, bearing 245.”
“Release a noisemaker,” Mack ordered.
Confirmation was quick. “Noisemaker away.”
Cheyenne’s top speed was nearly forty knots. The two torpedoes chasing her were knifing through the water at forty knots, but Mack wasn’t worried. Not yet, anyway. Sonar reported the Chinese torpedoes bearing 268 and bearing 187. If Mack maintained his course and speed, the torpedoes would both run out of fuel before they closed the distance.
The problem was that, at flank speed, Cheyenne was making more noise. She was announcing her exact location to every nearby sonar device. On top of that, she was making enough noise that she could barely hear anything around her.
Mack knew that in order to outrun the torpedoes, they would need to keep running at this speed, blind to anything but the noisy torpedoes, for at least another five thousand yards.
That was when Cheyenne caught her first break. “Conn, sonar,” the sonar supervisor reported, “the first torpedo just fell for the noisemaker. It’s off our tail.”
“Sonar, conn, what about torpedo number two?” Mack asked.
“Conn, sonar, it’s at the edge of our port baffle.” There was a brief pause and then the sonar supervisor added, “It just went active, Captain.”
“Release another noisemaker.”
“Releasing noisemaker, aye, sir.”
The tension level slowly mounted. “Conn, sonar,” the sonar supervisor announced, “the Mk 46 just latched on to the noisemaker decoy… lost the torpedo in our baffles!”
Mack nodded. The Mk 46s were fast, but they were easily fooled.
“I guess those noisemakers really do work,” one of the sonar operators said to the operator sitting beside him.
“Ahead one third,” Mack ordered. He wanted to run slower until he knew what was going on around him.
It took several moments for Cheyenne to slow down enough to start listening once more. Mack slowly turned to the northeast to clear his baffles.
“Sonar, conn, report all contacts,” Mack said, once they had slowed enough. He wanted to know who was out there and exactly where they were.
“Conn, sonar, report all contacts, aye, sir,” the sonar supervisor acknowledged.
Less than five minutes had passed since the first Chinese Mk 46 had been fired at them, but to the officers and crew on board Cheyenne it seemed like only five seconds. It was ironic, Mack thought. The minutes it took for their own torpedoes to acquire and complete their runs seemed to stretch into hours, but when hostile torpedoes were coming toward Cheyenne, time passed much faster.
“Conn, sonar, we’ve got three contacts, Captain,” said the sonar supervisor. “One Kilo class submarine bearing 278, making turns for fifteen knots. One Romeo class submarine bearing 020, making turns for about six and a half knots. The third contact is a Chinese Luda class destroyer, which is probably where that helo came from, bearing 350. The destroyer is also heading in our direction. The TB-23 doesn’t hold the helicopter above us, which may be because we’re too deep, but my guess is that it’s rearming on board the destroyer.” Mack would be sure to mention his battle stations sonar supervisor in his patrol report.
The BSY-1 operators confirmed the sonar supervisor’s expert calls. The Romeo was previous Master 25 and the Luda was previously Master 26. However, the Kilo’s bearing was too far to the left for it to be the previous Master 28, which Cheyenne shot at earlier. Master 28 was added to the kill list and the new Kilo was designated Master 29.
“We’ll take out the Kilo, Master 29, first,” Mack said. It was the closest target, and potentially the quietest, and Mack wanted it out of the picture. He gave the orders to prepare tube two in all respects, including opening the outer door. As soon as his orders were acknowledged and confirmed, he gave the command to match sonar bearings and shoot tube two, Master 29.
Seconds later, the combat systems officer reported, “Tube two fired electrically, sir.”
“Conn, sonar, unit from tube two running hot, straight, and normal.”
The Kilo knew the moment the torpedo entered the water. It tried to turn and to run in the opposite direction, but the Chinese submarine had little chance. The Kilo had been closing on Cheyenne at top speed, and with a torpedo heading its way, it didn’t have much room to maneuver.
The Kilo zigged and zagged, tossing its crew about as the Chinese captain tried to confuse the torpedo at the same time that he tried to reverse his heading. The Chinese submarine released a noisemaker decoy to buy time, but Mack, listening to the reports from sonar, didn’t think it would work this time.
He was right.
“Conn, sonar, the Mk 48 passed right by their noisemaker. It’s still on course, bearing 275.”
Several minutes later sonar reported hearing the explosion. The 650-pound explosive warhead literally peeled open the Kilo�
��s back end, beginning with its screw. The Chinese Kilo roamed the sea no more.
“Reload tube two with a Harpoon,” Mack ordered. There was no time to relish the victory. He wanted the destroyer, Master 26, next. With luck, the helo would still be on board. “Diving officer, make your depth one hundred feet.” Mack needed to get closer to the surface so that they could launch the missile.
“Reload tube two with a Harpoon,” acknowledged the fire-control coordinator.
“Make my depth one hundred feet, aye, sir,” the helmsman finished the round of repeat backs, acknowledging the diving officer’s order.
The Luda II class destroyer was a fairly large target, so Mack was going to fire two weapons at it. He would have preferred to make them both Harpoons, but Cheyenne had already fired three of her four antishipping missiles in previous actions. He would have to attack the Luda with only one Harpoon and one Mk 48. The torpedo had a bigger warhead, but it also had a much shorter range.
“What’s the current range to the destroyer?”
“Range to Master 26 is 30,500 yards, bearing 354,” the fire-control coordinator answered.
“And what’s the range on the Romeo?”
“BSY-1 computes 28,000 yards, sir. Master 25 is not moving. I think they figure that if they move, we’ll hear them and kill them.”
Mack ran through the situation in his mind and quickly made his decision. “Make tubes one and two ready in all respects, including opening the outer doors,” he said. “Firing point procedures, tube two, Master 26; tube one, Master 25.”
He waited for those orders to be acknowledged and executed and then said, “Match sonar bearings and shoot tube two, Master 26 and tube one, Master 25.”
Torpedo tube two, containing Cheyenne’s last remaining UGM-84 Harpoon, fired first. Tube one was fired as soon as the ejection pump ram had returned to battery.
“Conn, sonar, the Harpoon’s on her way, sir, and the Mk 48 from tube one is running hot, straight and ”—there was a brief pause, and then the sonar supervisor said—“normal!”
The Romeo wasn’t as quick as the Kilo. It took them two minutes to realize there was an enemy torpedo coming through the water at them, and several minutes longer to increase their speed. And by then, it was simply too late.
“The Mk 48 has acquired the Romeo, Master 25, Captain.”
“Cut the wire, shut the outer doors on both tubes, and reload tubes one and two with Mk 48s.”
It would be several minutes before the torpedo reached the Romeo, but its fate was sealed. The Romeo had nothing on board that would fool the Mk 48 once it had acquired.
The Luda, however, was a different matter. The Harpoon was very fast, covering the seventeen miles to the Chinese destroyer in less than three minutes.
The Chinese sailors launched a cloud of chaff to try and decoy the missile away from the ship. When that failed, and the Harpoon began its final descent, Jinan fired its twin 25mm guns into the air, putting up a “wall of steel” in front of the UGM-84.
Years earlier, Saddam Hussein had tried that unsuccessfully around Baghdad against U.S. Tomahawk land-attack missiles. It didn’t work any better for the Chinese sailors. The Harpoon slammed into the vessel directly underneath its antiship missile launchers, impacting downward and tearing a large hole in the hull.
“Conn, sonar, we just heard an explosion on the surface. We hit the destroyer bad, sir. I’m hearing breaking-up noises already.”
“What about the Mk 48?”
“Impact in four minutes, Captain, but it’s a lock. That Romeo’s not doing much to get out of the way.”
The combat systems officer knew his weapons well. A Romeo-class submarine could do thirteen knots at top speed — but only if it was in good condition. This one did not seem able to get above nine knots.
Mack was pleased, but he wasn’t satisfied. He ordered tubes three and four readied, and then initiated firing point procedures against the damaged destroyer. When that had been done, he ordered, “Match sonar bearings and shoot tube three, Master 26.”
“Match bearings and shoot tube three, Master 26,” acknowledged the fire-control coordinator.
Tube three was fired electrically, but sonar didn’t have the chance to report on the torpedo’s status before the Romeo was hit. The old, antiquated reserve submarine had tried to evade, tried to flee, but Cheyenne had it outgunned and outmaneuvered.
“Conn, sonar, we have the sounds of a submarine filling with water. Master 25 is sinking, sir.”
Mack acknowledged the report and asked, “What’s the status on the second Mk 48?”
“Conn, sonar, it’s running hot, straight, and normal, sir.”
The combat systems officer announced acquisition.
When the Mk 48 acquired its target Mack ordered the wire in tube three cut, tube four secured, and tube three reloaded with an Mk 48. When that had been done, he gave the command to take Cheyenne deep once more. Moments later a loud explosion marked the death of the already damaged Chinese Luda II destroyer.
Mack was satisfied. The Harpoon might have been enough to sink it. Now, however, the destroyer went down with all hands and both helicopters on board. Mack gave the order to secure from battle stations.
* * *
Ten hours later Cheyenne was approaching her launch point north of the Spratlys.
“How long until we arrive at the launch point?” Mack asked.
“We should be at our launch point within seven minutes,” the navigation officer replied. With Cheyenne currently 2.5 nautical miles south of her launch point and running at twenty knots, Mack manned “battle stations missile.”
Mack ordered Cheyenne brought to periscope depth to confirm her location by GPS and receive any new orders. This also gave them a chance to verify the targeting information they’d downloaded earlier.
With everything confirmed, Cheyenne proceeded to her launch point and prepared to launch six land-attack missiles at the Cuarteron Reef Submarine Base. Two of the Tomahawk missiles were the UGM-109D varieties, each of which carried 166 BLU-97/B combined-effects munitions. These would be able to take out soft targets and destroy electronic sensors and early-warning systems protecting the base. The remaining four were fitted with a 1,000 pound “bull-pup” warhead that was designed to take out the base headquarters and the piers where the submarines were being rearmed and refueled.
One by one, Cheyenne launched her missiles, and then slipped deeper into the sea. She would now have to wait on word from naval intelligence to determine if her mission was a success.
“Diving Officer, make your depth five hundred feet. Let’s get out of here before they know what — and who — hit them.”
Mack was pleased. His crew had performed well, Cheyenne had carried out her mission, and now they were heading toward the Sulu Sea. McKee would be there waiting for her, and Cheyenne would get a mini-refit. Mack secured battle stations once more, hoping it would be the last time this trip.
Mack didn’t know what his next orders would be, but he was sure Cheyenne was going to need all the weapons McKee could give her.
4. Dogfight
Mack walked through officer country on board the submarine tender McKee, accompanied by his combat systems and operations officers, his navigator and communicator, and his sonar officer. Cheyenne was just completing her mini-refit, and Mack and his officers were on their way to their final briefing. The refit had taken several days, and for each of those days the officers from Cheyenne had taken their meals in the vast wardroom on board McKee. This day, the final day of their refit, Mack had elected to take his breakfast with his own officers rather than in McKee’s flag mess.
Mack was pleased that the refit had gone smoothly. On the first day, his executive officer and his chief yeoman, along with the communicator and officer-in-charge (OIC) of the naval security group (NSG) detachment on board Cheyenne, had been responsible for transferring numerous boxes from Cheyenne to McKee. Those crates and boxes had contained the myriad logs, data sheet
s, and sonar and radio and ESM tapes that Cheyenne had amassed during the period of time from when she departed Pearl Harbor until she arrived in the Sulu Sea alongside McKee.
Among this, carefully stored in box 1, was the three hundred-page “Patrol Report of Cheyenne, Pearl Harbor to Sulu Sea,” which Mack had signed earlier. This was a running narrative of events and tactics employed, along with a written guide to the rest of the items in the boxes.
Mack always enjoyed looking back through this report. It was compiled four times a day by the off-going officer of the deck and his assistant, the junior officer of the deck. As soon as it was compiled, the ship’s yeomen typed it up on the high-speed PCs in the ship’s office. The color printer and color scanner made the patrol report an interesting novel, complete with color pictures of the tactical encounters experienced.
This report, with all the details of Cheyenne’s first adventures, would remain on board McKee for some time. Eventually, couriers from Independence would transfer the materials from McKee to the carrier, and from there they would travel by C-2 aircraft to the Yokosuka Naval Base.
The pilots of these C-2 Greyhounds, called “COD” for “carrier onboard delivery,” were used to making 3,000-mile flights. They had already completed numerous deliveries to and from Independence and the island of Diego Garcia while Independence steamed south of the Arabian Sea.
Not that Cheyenne‘s successes were being kept secret. Interim reports had been submitted as required, and as soon as she had surfaced inside Mindoro Strait, Mack had released a long message containing a condensed version of the patrol report and a tabulation of the contents of the boxes to be shipped. This message was already in the hands of Cheyenne’s superiors. Picked up and relayed by one of the numerous SSIXS satellites, this one perched high in its equatorial synchronous orbit over the Indian Ocean, the message had been printed out and copies had been distributed all the way to the Joint Chiefs of Staff in Washington, D.C.
On that first day alongside McKee, while some of Cheyenne‘s people dealt with the patrol report, the engineer officer’s people had been busy with the details of taking on shore power. This was vital to Cheyenne’s taking steam out of the engineering spaces and shutting down the reactor for the duration of the refit.