SSN

by Tom Clancy

  When the ship stabilized at 90 feet in only 130 feet of water, Captain Mackey used the sound-powered phone to explain to the crew what had happened. A Chinese (Soviet-built) Komar class fast attack craft was in a running gun battle with a Taiwanese fast attack craft. The 25mm (Chinese) and 76mm (Taiwanese) gunfire was what they had heard and what had bounced off the sail.

  Cheyenne had needed to submerge quickly before the Komar launched its SS-N-2 surface-to-surface missiles and the Taiwanese craft reciprocated with its Otomat missiles. The chances of the missiles inadvertently homing in on the “innocent” Cheyenne’s sail had been too great. Similar incidents between the South and North Korean gunboats fighting it out nearly twenty years before had not been lost in the archives of submarine history.

  Some of the crew had sustained minor injuries during their rushing to lay below. The OOD, looking at his bleeding fingers and those of his compatriots from the bridge, tried to bring a little levity to the situation. “Does this mean,” he asked, “that we’re eligible for the Purple Heart?”

  The executive officer answered that it would be the first for submariners since World War II, but that it was worth a try. The joking in the crew’s mess and the wardroom that night served to ease tensions, as each man from the bridge was presented with large cardboard Purple Hearts attached to their spaghetti bibs. The ship’s yeomen had made them up from pictures in the Awards Manual, using the color scanners and printers in the ship’s office.

  Once Cheyenne submerged, Mack reversed her course to the south. He had decided that the squeeze of the shallow water of the Formosa Strait would be too much if they continued to the north submerged. Besides, the RORSAT deception was OBE (overcome by events) by now. If it didn’t work, it didn’t work. The rest was up to Cheyenne’s sonars and their extraordinary operators.

  Mack also ordered the ship to periscope depth until they were clear of the shallow water. He would remain in the control room with the navigator and the OOD — who, along with Mack himself, were the officers with the greatest responsibility — to prevent bottoming.

  “Conn, sonar, we have that Chinese Komar bearing 355, emerging from our starboard baffles. Designate Master 123.”

  “Conn, ESM, the Komar’s radar is painting the Type 18, signal strength three.”

  Mack ordered the chief of the watch to “man battle stations, Harpoon.” He followed that with the order to the torpedo room to change the load of torpedo tube one to Harpoon. Torpedo room personnel were already rearranging stows to get one of the Harpoons lined up.

  Mack elected not to expend Mk 48s on the Komar. Cheyenne would launch the Harpoon on ESM bearings while continuing to the south, an “over-the-shoulder” launch that Mack had loved practicing in the fire-control trainer.

  Five minutes later, the Harpoon was loaded and tube one made ready. After Mack ordered ESM bearings matched and the Harpoon fired, he saw it depart the water ahead of the ship and execute its sweet turn to starboard, racing toward the bearing of the Komar. The Harpoon hardly had time to accelerate to its maximum speed before the seeker found its target, crashing into the bridge of the Komar, tearing it in two as the missile’s momentum and its explosive combined to create total destruction. A flash in the night, then nothing, as if the Komar had literally disintegrated.

  * * *

  After a day’s quiet transit, Cheyenne arrived in the first patrol area. Located two hundred nautical miles east of Macclesfield Bank, Mack had decided this would be the most likely Typhoon patrol area.

  On arrival near the northeast corner of the area, Mack ordered the OOD to launch an SSXBT. The information it gathered on temperature versus depth through the water column would be sent by wire to the BSY-1 for use by the sonar and fire-control systems. It also would provide layer-depth information, which Mack wanted. He could use that data to allow Cheyenne to effectively hide beneath the layer, or even a second deeper layer.

  During dinner in his wardroom — a dinner they all ate quickly — Mack addressed his officers. “We have our work cut out for us again. With quiet Akulas and the Typhoon staring us in the face, we’ll need to be even more innovative in our attacks than we were when we went up against the seven Akulas. We’ll have to flush out both the Akulas and the Typhoon.”

  Cheyenne had gotten a break earlier. Sonar had reported weak tonals from an Akula to the south, the same tonals as had been detected on the only Akula to have gotten away from her in the Paracels. Apparently, running out of assets, the Chinese had been able to do nothing else but assign that one and the remaining interfleet transfer ones to the Typhoon’s protection.

  This was fine with Mack. Not only did it give him a second shot at that Akula, but this one was a dead giveaway, if the Typhoon were nearby.

  The initial range had been established at roughly 80,000 yards in the third convergence zone by the section fire-control tracking party. This time, Mack would wait until he ordered the OOD to man battle stations, torpedo.

  There was still nothing from the other Akulas or the Typhoon. Just the lone set of low-frequency tonals. These were coming from the same one with sound shorts to its turbine generator.

  Just in case the other Russian submarines were somewhere nearby, Mack passed the order for the torpedo room to “Make tubes one and two ready in all respects, including opening the outer doors.”

  A short while later, the OOD reported to the captain, “Tubes one and two are ready in all respects. Both outer doors are open.” Cheyenne was getting so good that they were taking liberties with the battle stations versus the section fire-control parties.

  “Very well, officer of the deck,” answered Mack.

  Fortunately, the Akula was not tracking on any particular course. This meant he was loitering in the vicinity of the Typhoon, as Mack had hoped. This also allowed Cheyenne to close the range while the Akula did the maneuvering to allow the three BSY-1 computers to compute the fire-control solution before the Akula could detect the launch of Cheyenne’s Mk 48s. The other Akulas and the Typhoon remained silent.

  Other than the signature obtained earlier, the Akula was quiet. Cheyenne was not able to detect it with either her spherical or conformal arrays. The course changes and the TB-23 inputs to the sonar consoles and to the three BSY-1 computer consoles made the solution possible for the section fire-control tracking party. When the BSY-1 operators and the section fire-control coordinator were satisfied with the TMA (target motion analysis) solution, Mack ordered battle stations manned.

  As was routine for Cheyenne, Captain Mackey ordered, “Firing point procedures, Master 124.”

  The combat systems officer at the weapons control console reported the target course as random, speed three, and range 15,780 yards.

  “Sonar, conn, stand by.”

  “Conn, sonar, standing by.”

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

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

  “Tubes one and two fired electrically,” the combat systems officer reported.

  “Conn, sonar, units from tubes one and two running hot, straight, and normal,” came the report from the sonar supervisor as the two torpedoes executed their wire clearance maneuvers and accelerated to medium speed for the inbound run.

  “Very well, sonar,” responded Mack.

  The next report wasn’t long in coming.

  “Conn, sonar, the weapons are accelerating.” This was confirmed by the combat systems officer, who reported acquisition by both units. Cheyenne had detected a second Akula when it accelerated to flee the situation, but there was still no sign of the Typhoon.

  The captain of the Typhoon, a capital ship of the former — and, perhaps, future — Soviet Union, was not about to give up his hovering. He hovered quietly with main engines secured and his two pressurized water reactors at the lowest possible power in order to generate as little steam-flow noise as possible. He had even secured the spinners, allowing his ship to swing with the current. This particular Russi
an captain intended to make admiral, following in the footsteps of his father.

  The two Mk 48s from Cheyenne continued on course for their targets, but only the torpedo from tube one had targeted the original, noisy Akula, old Master 74. Mack had retargeted the other Mk 48 at the second Akula as soon as it sped up, allowing Cheyenne’s sonars to detect it. Sending the second torpedo toward this Russian submarine was merely Mack’s way of welcoming it to PACFLT.

  “Conn, sonar, explosions bearing 195 and 178.”

  Mack was hoping that the loss of two of his Akula escorts would rattle the Typhoon captain, but he maintained his posture, quiet as a titmouse in a church. Mack knew the Typhoon was out there, but he hadn’t flushed it yet.

  What Mack didn’t know was that there was another Akula out there as well, one whose captain had more experience with the U.S. 688 class than his lost North Fleet fellow captain. The Akula, like the Typhoon, was refusing to be baited.

  “Conn, sonar, still nothing from the Typhoon.”

  The captain ordered an Mk 48 prepared for “swim-out” and off-board sensor tactics. This deployment was often extremely useful, especially under-ice, where the torpedo could seek out icepicking SSBNs and send the information back to Cheyenne over the guidance wire. But Mack still wished he had the capability of a slower search speed and a frequency higher than that which could be detected by the Russian acoustic intercept receivers.

  There was such a system, FORMIDABOD, but it had not yet reached the fleet for operational use. That system was the brainchild of a previous COMSUBPAC plans officer with a vision, who had noticed that the initial indications were that the 688’s original BQS-15 sonar couldn’t “see” mines. Standing for Fiber-Optic Remote MIne Detection And BreakOut Device, the remotely operated vehicle could advance the search, out of harm’s way from the SSN, and provide acoustic information at over four times the data rate and at six times the frequency of the Russian, or U.S. for that matter, acoustic intercept receivers.

  * * *

  The search for the Typhoon took a while, with the Mk 48 probing the area ahead of Cheyenne, but eventually it paid off. The off-board sensor found the Typhoon — and the Typhoon’s acoustic intercept receiver found the off-board sensor.

  On board the Typhoon, with a true belief in his invincibility, the Russian captain decided to remain in place. His only reactions to the sensor’s presence were to operate his spinners to twist his massive ship and to ready his 65cm and 53cm torpedoes for use against the American submarine that had sent the Mk 48 hunting. The Russian captain had no way of knowing who was out there, but he decided it must be Cheyenne.

  The Typhoon’s captain ordered the interlocks broken between the port and starboard tube nests, thereby allowing him to bring all his 53cm torpedo tubes to bear at once. The Soviet Union had developed the equivalent of two torpedo-tube ejection-pump rams, one for port and one for starboard.

  At the same time that the Typhoon was making its preparations, Captain Mackey was formulating his own new doctrine. The normal doctrine didn’t cover this situation: but that was why he was in command. His choice; his decision; no one could refute it. This situation had never developed before — but it had its parallels, if one had the brains, and the guts, to see it.

  “Firing point procedures, Master 126, tubes one and two,” ordered the captain. “Firing point procedures, Master 126, tubes three and four.”

  When the combat systems officer and executive officer looked to the captain with confusion, he elaborated, “Unit one for the main screws; then, when they spin up on the spinners, units two and three for the spinners. When that happens, we’ll be within range behind the Typhoon to light off MIDAS. Then we’ll detonate unit four over their missile deck.”

  Mack’s gutsy plan went off without a hitch. Unit one ran to the Typhoon’s screws as intended. When sonar reported the spinners starting up, the next two units were guided to their points of destruction.

  With the launch of the last two units, Cheyenne increased speed to match that of the torpedoes. The Russian captain finally decided to launch torpedoes at Cheyenne and the missiles at Taiwan, but by then it was too late. The fourth torpedo detonated above his missile deck before the first launch tube missile hatch could be opened. The result was the dishing in of all hatches so that they couldn’t be opened. In addition, the overpressure wave caused by the last Mk 48’s 650 pounds of explosive, coupled with the Typhoon’s depth and open torpedo tube muzzle doors, resulted in the Russian torpedo tube breech doors giving way. The torpedo room flooded and the Typhoon started to take on water.

  That would have finished just about any other submarine in any navy in the world, but not the Typhoon. With its double hulls still intact, the would-be Russian admiral ordered all internal ballast dumped. Even if the outer ballast tanks were ruptured, the missile-tube water-compensation system would provide some buoyancy.

  With the loss of what seemed like an insignificant amount of ballast, the Typhoon accelerated rapidly to the surface, but once there the Russians learned that the emergency escape capsule — which had never been practiced on a real submarine — could not be released.

  With the lessons learned from the Mike SSN disaster in the North Sea off Norway, the Typhoon’s captain decided to remain where he was to await rescue. Mack knew the Russian captain had lost his cool; he was now in the South China Sea, where no Russian ships could come to his rescue. What’s more, Cheyenne had finally picked up the last Akula, whose captain had elected to pull off to be able to fight another day and which had managed to distance itself from the fray.

  Cheyenne was there as the Typhoon reached the surface. The Russian submarine had been severely damaged, but Mack ordered four more torpedoes into the defenseless Typhoon.

  There was seldom mercy in wartime, and Cheyenne’s and Mack’s orders were clear. If he had allowed the Typhoon to survive, its crew would have cut the missile hatches open with blow torches and completed their launch against Taiwan.

  The result of the additional four torpedoes exploding beneath the Typhoon caused major seawater system flooding. The ensuing scene was similar to the devastation experienced by the Yankee class SSBN southeast of the Bermudas years before. Only this time there was no capability to protect and remove the crew.

  Life rafts were put over the side, only to be attacked by the South China Sea shark population, so the crew watched helplessly from the huge, flat missile-tube deck. The oversized submarine started settling slowly deeper, the water level rising to within meters of the missile- tube deck, with the crew topside.

  The captain — the admiral-to-be-had already sent a message to his North Fleet Headquarters concerning the impending demise of his capital ship and the lack of help from his Akula escorts by name, two of which had been sunk. He had not been given any means to communicate with the Chinese, so he resorted to calling home. After that he went topside to be with his men, sat down, and held hands in a circle as their submarine slid beneath the surface of the sea, sailors to the end, for eternity. The sharks did the rest.

  Cheyenne’s Type 18 periscope had taped the entire sinking of the Typhoon, but Mack had no intention of showing it to the crew as their evening movie. He had confiscated the tape, ensuring that it would be seen again only in a closed audience as part of his patrol debriefing to a higher authority.

  * * *

  When the Russian North Fleet Headquarters received the message from the Typhoon, the commander-in-chief was astounded, and not just at the loss of one of his strategic assets. He was also furious and astonished at what seemed to be a refusal to follow orders by one of his Akula captains.

  The scathing CO-Eyes Only message sent to the remaining Akula was clear. Its meaning was well understood by the Akula’s captain, because it made reference to his family — his wife and two daughters — who had been taken into “protective custody” by the Russian secret service.

  * * *

  Mack was nearing the periscope stand when sonar reported low-frequency tonal cont
act to the north. The tonals were classified by the sonar supervisor as coming from an Akula. They were weak, but closing.

  The Akula captain, intimidated by his own chain of command, had decided to take on Cheyenne. He’d had no choice. Even without the threat to his family, returning to his homeland without being successful during war, even if it was a Chinese war, was tantamount to certain death.

  He made two torpedoes ready for his own snap shots, in case they stumbled upon the quiet Cheyenne at close range. The Russian sonar operators were poised, carefully searching for any sign of Cheyenne with their towed array. They had all listened to the sounds of the deaths of their comrades on board the Akulas and the Typhoon, and they were eager to defeat Cheyenne.

  Mack wasn’t about to let that happen. He wanted no more close-range encounters for Cheyenne. He intended for this battle to be like the earlier long-range attack on one of the earlier Akulas, Master 74.

  The Akula was nearing the outer weapon range of both the U.S. and the Russian torpedoes when Mack manned battle stations torpedo. He had already expended eleven torpedoes, including the dead round he’d used as the off-board sensor. Thirteen Mk 48s and one lonely Harpoon remained, and the Harpoon would be of no use unless he could force the Akula to the surface. If it was damaged enough for that, it could be finished as Cheyenne had earlier done with the Romeo near Midway Island.

  But Mack didn’t want it to come to that. The Typhoon’s death had been bad enough. Submariners, even the enemy, deserved to die with their ship rather than at the hands of the creatures of the sea.

  Once battle stations were manned, Captain Mackey passed the order for the torpedo room to “make tubes one and two ready in all respects, including opening the outer doors.” In addition to making Cheyenne’s tubes ready as early as possible, he intended to launch two Mk 48s in the quiet “swim-out” mode as he had done with the off-board sensor, but this time they would be armed as weapons.