SSN

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SSN Page 12

by Tom Clancy


  Cheyenne was not at home in coastal waters like these. The Los Angeles class submarines were designed for blue water operations. Cheyenne and her sister ships performed best in the open ocean. While they still performed well in areas like the South China Sea and, more specifically, the Spratly Islands, their superiority gap was narrowed markedly.

  A Los Angeles class SSN was 360 feet in length — nearly 100 feet longer than an Alfa submarine, and the Chinese and Russian Kilo submarines were smaller still. The Kilo was a perfect weapon system for these dangerous waters. Measuring 229 feet, it could weave in and out of tight spots that Cheyenne would not even want to venture into.

  As Cheyenne approached Discovery Great Reef, Mack decided to remain relatively shallow. That would allow Cheyenne to copy any radio traffic that might be broadcast to them. In addition, he didn’t trust the water depths in this area. He figured he had a better chance of running aground than he did of being detected by the enemy.

  When Cheyenne crossed the 100 fathom curve inbound for Discovery Great reef, Mack ordered, “Come to periscope depth.”

  Cheyenne had already been running shallow at 200 feet. Now, however, Mack would use the periscope to check out the notorious “oil platforms.”

  “Conn, sonar,” the sonar supervisor called a short time later. “I think we’ve got a contact on the towed array. It sounds faint, but it may be a submarine… although the computers haven’t been able to confirm a thing.”

  The contact was currently too weak for Cheyenne’s sonar operators to do much with. Mack made a mental note to keep checking on it, though. He was sure that if this was a submarine they were picking up, Cheyenne would be going after it soon.

  Mack was also sure that whatever they were picking up had not yet detected their own presence in these waters. Cheyenne was currently running at only three knots to minimize the periscope “feather,” the wake caused by the periscope barrel as it moved through the air-water interface, and she was nearly as quiet as she could be.

  “Captain, we are currently seventeen miles northeast of the first oil rig,” the navigator reported.

  “Sonar, Captain, do you have any additional information to report on that contact?” Mack asked.

  “Conn, sonar, we classify Master 48 as a probable submarine contact to the southwest. It appears that it’s on the other end of the abandoned oil rig from our position. It’s barely making a sound, though.”

  Mack acknowledged the report and ordered battle stations manned and the towed array housed. He still didn’t know for sure what that contact was, but he had the feeling that Cheyenne was about to go into battle once more.

  * * *

  Southwest of Cheyenne, at the other end of the abandoned oil rig, a Chinese Kilo submarine was getting into position near Discovery Great Reef. The Kilo was running silently, and its captain was confident that they could not be detected. But then, based on estimates from Chinese intelligence, he did not expect any American SSNs to be near his position for at least another day.

  The Chinese intelligence machine was very different from its American counterpart. The Chinese focused their intelligence on the human aspect, or HUMINT, while the Americans focused their intelligence on ELINT — electronic signals interception and satellite photography.

  These differences made sense in terms of the backgrounds of the two countries. China had a massive population, with citizens and former citizens scattered around the world. America, on the other hand, had massive quantities of money that they could use to invest in their defense industry.

  These differences came into play off the Spratlys. Cheyenne, with her advanced technology and sophisticated sonar equipment, was able to pick up traces of the Kilo. The Chinese boat, however, was relying more heavily on human observers — but Cheyenne’s submerged transit of the Philippine Islands area had precluded any HUMINT by Chinese observers on the islands.

  The captain of the Chinese Kilo finally arrived in his position slightly more than one nautical mile west of the oil platform. He planned to wait there in silence for passing American naval vessels, hoping for some to venture close enough for him to strike.

  He didn’t know it, but he was about to get his wish.

  * * *

  “Conn, sonar,” reported the sonar supervisor, “we just lost contact on Master 48.”

  “What was the last position of Master 48?” Mack asked the fire-control coordinator.

  The executive officer, who was acting as fire-control coordinator for this watch, said, “Captain, Master 48 was about nineteen thousand yards west of the Discovery Great Reef oil rig. Do you think she heard us?”

  The question was a good one.

  Could they have heard us? Mack wondered. The most probable reason that they would lose contact with a submarine was either that the enemy submarine’s noise was being shielded from Cheyenne‘s sonar, possibly by a thermal layer or the surf noise, or that the submarine had detected Cheyenne’s presence and had either stopped or was running silently. The silence indicated that if there was a submarine out there, it was probably a Chinese diesel boat, running on its batteries.

  Slowly, Cheyenne approached the oil rig, which lay within one mile of Discovery Great Reef. The water was extremely shallow in this area and the huge rocks surrounding the now dilapidated oil rig served to shield the diesel’s sounds.

  Cheyenne‘s passive sonar suite was severely degraded in the shallow environment of the littorals. In this environment, active sonar would work almost as well as passive, if they used MIDAS to discriminate between rocks and a submarine’s longer hull, but Mack didn’t seriously consider the idea. He knew that using his active sonar would give away Cheyenne’s exact position. He’d rather have both submarines blind than give away his position to the enemy.

  Through the periscope, Mack could see the Discovery Great Reef oil rig. At a glance, he could tell that it had been destroyed during the Chinese occupation of the island. But he needed to give it more than just a glance. He was supposed to get some accurate photographs of the rig for intelligence back in Washington. In addition, he needed to ensure that the rig was not being used as a Chinese submarine depot that could rearm or refuel Chinese SSKs.

  He made another quick circle as he “danced” the periscope around the surface. He could find no evidence that the rig was being used for anything — or that it was even in the process of being repaired — but still he was cautious. This was a very dangerous place for Cheyenne to be running at periscope depth.

  Six nautical miles away, or about 12,000 yards from Cheyenne’s current position, the Chinese Kilo submarine was operating in its silent mode — running on its batteries. With no noise coming from their own ship, the Chinese sonar operators listened carefully to their low frequency sonar, searching the waters for the sound of any American vessels.

  They heard nothing.

  The Chinese had been loitering here, running silently on their batteries, for seventeen hours, keeping their depth shallow at 45 feet and their ears open. The captain was waiting for the Americans to walk into his trap.

  After seventeen hours, however, the captain of the Kilo grew impatient. He’d had enough of this waiting. Slowly the Kilo pulled out of its hiding spot and began to pick up speed. Its captain had decided to make a run at six knots, slowly and quietly circling Discovery Great Reef, searching for any American naval vessels.

  As soon as the Kilo moved, it lost its protection against American sonars, and Cheyenne heard it.

  “Conn, sonar, we just reacquired Master 48. It’s a Kilo, single six-bladed screw. It just increased speed to six knots and it’s heading north.”

  A short time later a BSY-1 operator reported the Kilo’s range, and Mack knew Cheyenne was in trouble. The Chinese submarine was only 11,000 yards away, which meant that Mack had unknowingly brought Cheyenne well within weapons range of the Chinese Kilo and her TEST-71 homing torpedoes.

  “Make tubes one and two ready,” Mack ordered. “But do not open the outer doors!” He
emphasized that. They were too close, and he didn’t want to give the Kilo any chance of detecting their location.

  “Make tubes one and two ready but do not open the outer doors, aye, sir.”

  Mack had a problem. He had the drop on the Kilo, but he didn’t have much maneuvering room. If the Kilo got off a return shot, Cheyenne could be in trouble.

  And that was the least of his worries. His bigger problem was his lack of intel. Were there other Chinese submarines out there? Naval intelligence said no — but they’d missed one already. Who was to say they hadn’t missed more?

  This was a problem because he would give away his position as soon as he fired on the Kilo — and even if that submarine didn’t fire back, there could be others hiding in the shallow water waiting to pounce.

  Captain Mackey ordered Cheyenne rigged for ultraquiet. He wanted every effort made to ensure that nothing alerted the Kilo to their location. Word was quickly passed to all compartments over the sound powered phones. Non-vital equipment was quickly secured. The crew whispered when they spoke, wondering what would be next.

  On board the Chinese submarine, the captain was growing frustrated. He was assigned to keep watch for American submarines, but he knew that he would never hear them unless they were close enough to fire their Mk 48s. Even under ideal circumstances his passive sonar was never up to par with the American BSY-1 system, but in these shallow waters his Russian passive sonar performance was even worse.

  Frustrated, he ordered his sonar room to use their active sonar and ping the area, hoping to even out the playing field and get a better fix on his surroundings. He had no idea that the USS Cheyenne was attempting to close in on his position.

  “Conn, sonar, the Kilo just went active on its fire-control sonar. He painted the entire area for us.”

  Mack knew immediately that this was good news as well as bad. It was bad because the Kilo now knew where Cheyenne was and had also received a firing solution. The good news, however, was that the active ping had given the same data to Cheyenne. Even more important, that one ping had lit up the murky waters of Discovery Great Reef like a flashlight. Thanks to that ping, Mack now knew that the Chinese Kilo was all alone.

  Mack had the upper hand, but he wouldn’t have it for long. He had to act fast — and act first.

  He initiated the firing point procedures to attack the Kilo, Master 48. “Open the outer doors on tubes one and two,” ordered Mack.

  “Open the outer doors on tubes one and two, aye, sir.”

  “Match sonar bearings and shoot tubes one and two.”

  “Match sonar bearings and shoot tubes one and two, aye, sir.”

  Cheyenne’s torpedo tube muzzle doors opened and two Mk 48 ADCAPs knifed through the murky water toward the enemy submarine.

  On board the lone Chinese Kilo, the captain was furious with himself. He had been tasked with waiting quietly for any American target, but he had lost his patience, and it had cost him.

  He would have liked to blame it on timing and bad luck — that American submarine showing up just when he decided to take a stroll around the reef was unbelievably bad luck — but he knew he couldn’t shrug it off that easily. After all, he had no idea how long the Americans had been out there. No, the simple truth was he’d made a mistake. Now he could only hope that the American captain would make one, too.

  That hope died almost immediately. He had barely formed the thought when his sonar room alerted him to their discovery. The American captain had not made a mistake. He’d beaten the Chinese captain to the punch, launching not one but two deadly ADCAP torpedoes before the Kilo had even gotten their tubes ready.

  Within minutes the two Mk 48s had acquired the Kilo and their wires were cut. The Mk 48s were on their own as they entered the terminal phase of their “flight.”

  The Chinese submarine launched a series of noisemakers, one after another, and began twisting through the shallow water in an effort to decoy the two torpedoes. It was no use, though. The Kilo had no more room to maneuver than Cheyenne did, and no time to run.

  The Mk 48s were now using their powerful active seekers and they simply ignored the noisemakers. They stayed with the Kilo as it tried to evade.

  Within minutes, two nearly simultaneous explosions announced to Cheyenne’s crew that their weapons had found their mark. The two Mk 48s had impacted, one next to the other, into the port side of the Kilo.

  The explosion caused the Chinese boat to split in half after both sides had filled with water. Cheyenne had destroyed another boat — and not just any submarine. This was another Kilo, the pride of the Chinese navy.

  “Conn, sonar, I don’t hear anything else in the area,” the sonar supervisor reported to the captain after the situation was under control.

  “It looks like this area has been ‘deloused,’ the captain said. ”I don’t think that there are any other vessels operating in the area, but just to make sure let’s make a quick check around and then head to our second search area.”

  Battle stations and the rig for ultraquiet were secured, and the reconnoiter around the reef came up empty. Cheyenne turned up no signs that there was a submarine depot operating in this locality. There was also no sonar indication of any other submarines that may have been operating with the Kilo.

  Mack was not surprised, but he couldn’t help feeling a little relieved. “Plot a new course for Cuarteron Reef, search area 2, that takes us outside this shallow water,” Captain Mackey said to the navigator.

  “Aye, Captain, We’ve already begun to plot the course,” the navigator replied.

  Discovery Great Reef was close to Cuarteron Reef, but the trip itself would take several hours. Mack could have covered it in far less time, but he wanted to remain silent and chose to keep Cheyenne’s speed between five and ten knots. Once again, Mack was frustrated with his passive sonar performance in these shallow waters, but he was not going to risk giving away his position, so he kept Cheyenne quiet and hoped that if something was out there they would hear it.

  As Cheyenne approached closer to the abandoned oil rig, Mack got more photographs of the oil platform. Less than three months ago, this area had been crowded with oil workers who were attempting to extract oil from the bottom of the islands. Now, however, there was not a soul on the rig, and the neighboring islands were completely occupied by Chinese troops who would have loved to attack Cheyenne if given the chance. But Mack wasn’t about to give them that chance. Not if he could help it, anyway.

  “Sonar, conn, have you picked up any contacts yet?” Mack asked of the sonar supervisor.

  “Conn, sonar, nothing at all, Captain.”

  Mack acknowledged the report, but he wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or a bad one.

  At three knots, Cheyenne crept around the entire length of Cuarteron Reef but found no sign of enemy submarine operations in the area. That was definitely a good sign, Mack thought.

  “Next stop, Swallow Reef,” Mackey said to the executive officer before turning the conn back over to the waiting OOD.

  The captain, satisfied with Cheyenne’s search, went back to his stateroom for some rest. He gave specific orders to the executive officer not to have him disturbed unless there was an emergency.

  * * *

  Several hours later the executive officer walked quietly into the captain’s stateroom and roused him. As soon as Mack opened his eyes and saw his executive officer standing over him, he knew something was up.

  “What happened?” Mack asked. “Did you run us aground?”

  But the executive officer was in no mood for humor. “We’ve got numerous contacts near Swallow Reef, Captain,” he said. “I think we found their submarine depot.”

  Mack was on his feet and heading back toward the control room before his executive officer finished speaking.

  In the control room, the OOD was examining the plotting tables. Mack glanced over at the OOD, then headed straight for the sonar room and looked at the sonar supervisor. “What have we got?” he asked.r />
  “Sir, it looks like the abandoned Swallow Reef oil platform is the submarine depot we were sent here to find. So far, we’ve heard two submarines surface in the area. Both submarines then slowed, heading north. They have since begun to recharge their batteries on all diesels and we can hear lots of activity going on out there.”

  “Do you have any classification on those two that surfaced?” Mack asked.

  The sonar supervisor nodded. “We just picked up the contacts three minutes ago, sir. We’ve positively identified two submarine contacts, both old Romeos. But there might be more of them out there.”

  This situation was exactly what Mack had hoped to avoid. He had detected a major submarine operation at Swallow Reef, but he had no permission to attack the targets. He wasn’t even sure that his Mk 48s could do a job that was best suited to Tomahawks.

  Thinking it over, examining the few possibilities available to him, Mack came up with a plan. It might not have been on the same level of innovation and inspiration as some of his earlier ideas, but it was the only thing that occurred to him.

  He knew that Cheyenne would eventually be in position to attack both submarines, now designated Masters 49 and 50. He also assumed that there were probably more than two submarines rearming and refueling at this depot. What Mack wanted to do was to attack the depot itself and put it out of commission.

  The question was — in addition to whether or not Mack and Cheyenne could pull it off — would CTF 74 grant him such leeway? Mack was pretty sure that the answer would be no, but just in case he called his combat systems officer and his communicator in for a meeting in the wardroom.

  “Would it be possible,” the captain asked the combat systems officer, “to destroy that Chinese depot by hitting them with Mk 48s?”

  The combat systems officer scratched his head before looking up at Mack. “I guess we could do it, sir. The oil platform acts as shelter to the submarines beneath it and we could target those submarines. That would, at the very least, severely disrupt operations at the mini-base.” He paused and looked at Mack. “But, sir,” he went on, “have we been granted permission to attack the platform and the submarines in it?”

 

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