by Larry Bond
“It’s an easier harbor than Ningbo,” commented Kirichenko. “Much easier, and you have sufficient water depth right up to the firing point.”
The Indian skipper bristled at Kirichenko’s comments. He was, of course, correct. But that didn’t soothe Jain’s growing anxiety.
Yes, the approach to the firing point had water depths deeper than Ningbo, or even Hong Kong. But in looking at the chart, Jain saw wrecks and obstructions that reduced the water depth to less than twenty meters to the north and south of him. He felt like he was sailing into a box canyon. And the complete lack of Chinese patrols didn’t encourage him. Surely the Chinese had to know this was one of only a few approaches to Yangshan, and yet not a single PLAN vessel was in sight. It was almost as if the Chinese were intentionally avoiding the area. Sweat began to form on his brow—were they walking into a trap?
Jain hurriedly pressed an intercom switch. “Torpedo room, confirm that tubes one, three, and eight are at action state, ready to fire, and tube two is not ready.”
“Central post, tubes one, three, and eight are at action state. Tube two is secure.”
“Very well. Is Orlav there?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, send someone to find him. I want him in the bomb shop before…”
“Captain! Torpedoes in the water bearing green one four five!” Patil’s voice rang throughout the space like an alarm bell. “Two weapons! They’ve gone active! Captain, they’re American Mark 48s!”
22
ENDGAME
18 April 2017
2030 Local Time
USS North Dakota
20 NM Southeast of Dahuanglong Island
East China Sea
* * *
“Captain, own ship’s units have enabled,” reported Thigpen.
“Very well, XO,” Jerry replied. The ambush had been perfectly executed. Chakra had remained oblivious until North Dakota’s weapons had gone active. He’d initially doglegged them to the south at slow speed, and after a four-thousand-yard separation from his boat, he turned the torpedoes to their intercept course and sped up to forty knots. Chakra knew where the torpedoes were, but she would still be clueless about the whereabouts of her assailant. And that was fine with Jerry, although he took little pleasure in the flawless attack. He could almost hear Samant’s teeth grinding next to him.
Petrov had watched the skilled torpedo attack with admiration. Mitchell’s crew operated like a well-oiled machine, a tribute to Jerry’s leadership. Feeling confident, he leaned over and whispered, “I’m sure you’re aware that this will be the third Russian submarine you’ve had a hand in sinking.”
Sighing, Jerry turned to his friend and grumbled, “Yes, I know. And I really didn’t need to be reminded, Alex. It’s not something I’m proud of. Besides, this battle isn’t over. Let’s not count our chickens just yet.”
“Captain!” called out the sonar supervisor. “Possible target zig by Sierra eight seven.”
INS Chakra
* * *
“Countermeasures! Launch decoy! Counterfire tube three! Torpedo course zero six zero, high speed, minimal enable run!” shouted Jain as he shoved Kirichenko aside. The Russian staggered back, thrown against the engineering console, shocked by the unexpected attack.
“Helmsman, port twenty, steer course one eight zero. Half ahead, make one hundred seventy-five revs,” Jain barked. “Number One, what’s the position of the wreck to the south?”
“Sir?” Rakash replied, dazed.
“Snap out of it, Number One. How far to the damn wreck!?”
“Ah, three thousand two hundred meters, bearing red zero one zero, sir.”
“Helmsman, continue left to one seven zero,” commanded Jain. Then, hitting the intercom button, “Sonar, any contact on our attacker?”
“Negative, sir. We only hold the torpedoes bearing green one four five, zero bearing rate!”
Jain swore. He had no idea where the attacking submarine was. He’d been jumped completely unawares—the mark of a professional. He didn’t have time to wonder who the American was that was attacking him, or even why. He needed to get his boat out of this birdcage and into deeper water; to flee if he could, or to maneuver if he couldn’t.
Joining his first officer at the chart table, Jain stabbed at the wreck symbol. “I’m going to get as close to the wreck as I can and then turn east. Get on the Arfa sonar and stand by to go active.”
As Rakash jumped to the mine-hunting sonar console, Jain ordered, “Helmsman, make your depth forty meters and be quick about it!” He was getting as close to the bottom as he dared.
USS North Dakota
* * *
“Torpedo in the water! Bearing two zero eight, it’s moving away from us, drawing rapidly to the left!” reported the sonar supervisor.
Jerry smiled slightly and whispered, “I’m not there, Captain.”
“Skipper, new contact bearing two one eight, drawing right. Sierra eight seven is heading south.”
“Very well, sonar supervisor.” Jerry saw the new trace show up on the command workstation display; then, looking up at the starboard VLSD, he saw that the target was moving northwest at fifteen knots.
“That’s a decoy, Captain,” advised Samant. “Jain is following our evasion doctrine perfectly. The countermeasures are to obscure his movements while he counterfires, launches a decoy, and turns away from the attacker.” There was a hint of pride in his voice.
Jerry nodded his approval. “It’s unfortunate for him that I still have my thin-line towed array out. The acoustic countermeasures can’t affect it. And that decoy isn’t very convincing.”
“It’s an older MG-84 mobile decoy, Jerry,” Petrov volunteered. “It’s more effective against ships, submarine hull arrays, and…”
Suddenly, Thigpen burst out, “Detect. Detect. Detect. Homing. Torpedo number one is homing! Wait a second, it’s turning to the right. Shit, it’s locked on to the decoy!”
“… and torpedoes,” finished a smug Petrov. Jerry countered with an irritated look.
Before he could order the torpedo turned back to the correct target, Thigpen let out a loud groan. “Loss of wire continuity on torpedo number one. The wire must have broken when the weapon turned sharply to the right. We still have the wire on torpedo number two.”
Frustrated, Jerry took a deep breath. That was why he fired a salvo instead of a single weapon. “XO, command torpedo number two to turn fifty degrees to port.”
While Thigpen turned and ordered the fire control operator to make the course change, Jerry looked at the position of the Indian UGST torpedo. It was well past them, screaming out toward the northeast. He could safely turn. Turning toward Lieutenant Junior Grade Quela Lymburn, the battle stations OOD, Jerry instructed, “Q, bring us to the left. New course two zero zero, and increase speed to twenty knots.”
“Come to new course two zero zero, and increase speed to twenty knots, aye, sir,” acknowledged Lymburn. “Pilot, left full rudder, come to course two zero zero. All ahead standard.”
INS Chakra
* * *
“Captain, one of the attacking torpedoes appears to have turned away. It may have been confused by the countermeasures and decoy,” reported Lieutenant Kirit from the Omnibus combat system consoles.
“Very well, but that still leaves one on our tail,” responded Jain. “Number One, activate the Arfa. Report bearing and range to the wreck.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” The first officer hit the transmit button, and after what seemed like an inordinately long time said, “Captain, the wreck bears red zero zero one. Range nine hundred meters.”
“Central post, Mark 48 torpedo has begun range gating! It’s got us!” cried Patil.
“Helmsman, full ahead! Stand by countermeasures!” Jain roared. “Number One, report range!”
“Range to the wreck is seven hundred fifty meters.”
Jain began a silent countdown; he needed to time his next move just right. Struggling to remain com
posed, the young captain glanced at the Omnibus display. The torpedo was just over three thousand meters away and closing rapidly. This was going to be close.
“Range?” he asked calmly.
“Range to the wreck is five hundred meters!” Rakash bawled.
“Steady yourself, Number One!” chastised Jain. He counted about twenty seconds, then, turning to Lieutenant Kota, commanded, “Deploy countermeasures!”
Jain quietly mumbled a fifteen-second count, then ordered, “Helmsman, port thirty! Steer east! All hands brace for shock!”
With the rudder over hard, and speed creeping past twenty-three knots, Chakra banked markedly into the turn. Jain clung to one of the periscopes for support while Kirichenko fought to keep his footing by the engineering consoles. The deck vibrated intensely as the speed increased and the sub heeled over in a stiff bank. Jain kept staring at the heading repeater, counting the seconds quietly, urging his boat to move faster.
After a tense minute, he yelled out, “Any moment now!”
* * *
Confused by the sudden appearance of the two countermeasures, the Mark 48 torpedo momentarily lost track of its target. Before it could begin a reattack search pattern, it blew past the stationary noisemakers and quickly reacquired a target dead ahead. But while the echo return was strong, the target wasn’t moving; the torpedo’s acoustic seeker detected no Doppler shift. The homing logic judged the target as invalid and began to turn the weapon to port, but it was too close now. The torpedo plowed into the sunken wreck and the high-explosive warhead detonated, sending strong shock waves out in all directions.
USS North Dakota
* * *
“Loud explosion bearing two zero zero!” sang out the sonar supervisor. The control room erupted in a cheer. Jerry saw his crew congratulating each other. To his right, Samant stood rigidly, his fists clenched, hardly breathing.
“Quiet in control!” bellowed Jerry. The celebratory clamor dropped instantly. Looking over at his exec, he inquired, “XO, status?”
“Torpedo number two has detonated in close proximity to Sierra eight seven’s location, sir. It looks like a hit.”
Jerry nodded his acknowledgment, turned, and stepped over to the sonar displays. “Senior chief, what do you hear?”
Senior Chief Halleck held up a finger, meaning, “Wait one.” After a long ten seconds, he shook his head and said, “I still have stable propulsion plant tonals, sir. I don’t think … Hold on! There’s a strong broadband contact on the hull array, drawing left.”
Leaning over the sonar supervisor’s shoulder, Jerry spoke softly. “Is it Chakra?”
Halleck nodded. “Confirmed, sir. Sierra eight seven is moving eastward at high speed, bearing rate is left five degrees per minute.”
“Range?”
“Maybe eight or nine thousand yards, Skipper, but that’s an educated guess. She’s in the WAA’s baffles.”
Straightening up, Jerry announced, “Attention in control. It appears that we missed. Sierra eight seven is still alive and kicking. I want a new firing solution ASAP.”
“Skipper, if we missed Chakra, what the hell did the torpedo detonate on?” complained Thigpen.
Jerry motioned for his XO to look at the HLSD and pointed to the wreck symbol on the chart near Chakra’s track. Thigpen was incredulous. “We sank a wreck!?”
“Technically, XO, it was already sunk,” noted Jerry with a grin. He couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved that the attack had failed.
Samant stared at the chart; his expression was unquestionably one of relief. “Bravo, Maahir, bravo!” he whispered softly.
“You trained that young man well, Girish,” complimented Petrov, just as impressed with Jain’s well-executed maneuver as the rest.
“I used to flog him relentlessly about not being as aware of his environment as he could’ve been. He always seemed to miss a critical detail that could have been used to his advantage.” Samant’s voice and face showed his pride. The kind of pride a headmaster has when a struggling student finally understands a difficult lesson.
“Well, it would appear that Jain did listen to you after all, Captain,” Jerry remarked. “Which means, unfortunately, that this fight will be more difficult than I’d like.”
Samant opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and just shrugged.
“Possible target zig, Sierra eight seven,” said Halleck. “Target has turned away or slowed down.”
Jerry looked up at the VLSD and saw the range of possible vectors. Facing Lymburn, he instructed, “Q, bring us to one one zero. Let’s see if we can’t figure out where he’s going.”
INS Chakra
* * *
The jolt was tremendous. Loose items were thrown all over in central post; several of the occupants were also flung, colliding with each other or unforgiving consoles. While the lights did flicker several times, they stayed on.
“Damage report, all compartments,” Jain thundered. Reaching down, he helped Kirichenko get up off the deck. The Russian had a nasty bruise forming on his left cheek.
“Nicely done, Captain,” grunted Kirichenko as he regained his footing.
Jain ignored the man and hit the intercom button. “Sonar, any sign of that bastard?”
“Central post, no, sir, we’re going too fast. I can’t hear a thing,” replied a shaken Patil.
The report was exactly what Jain expected. He’d successfully evaded the ambush, but if he stayed at full speed, he’d be blind. If he slowed down, however, he’d become more vulnerable to another attack. Either way, the hidden adversary would have the advantage—at least temporarily. “Number One,” he beckoned, motioning for his first officer to join him at the navigation plot. But Jain wasn’t going to wait; he had to keep the enemy off balance. Since he didn’t have contact, all he could do right now was throw off the fire control solution with frequent course and speed changes.
“Helmsman, right fifteen, course one three zero. Half ahead, one hundred forty revs.”
Rakash limped over and reported, “Captain, minimal damage in compartments one, three, and six. Nothing critical, we retain full combat capability. The medical officer reports mostly minor injuries, although one crew member may have suffered a concussion.”
“Very well, Number One.” Jain then smiled wearily. “That was close.”
“A little too close for my liking, Captain. What do we do now?”
Jain sighed. “We certainly can’t proceed with the attack on Yangshan. I’d like to get out to deeper water so we can either lose this chap or gain some room to maneuver.” Pointing to the chart, he outlined their escape routes. “If we head in an easterly direction, we should be able to reach the eighty meter curve fairly quickly. Mark depth under the keel.”
Rakash looked at the fathometer. “There’s nine meters beneath us, Captain. That puts us in water forty-eight meters deep.”
“Very good. Number One, deploy the towed array as soon as we slow to twenty-five knots.”
“But, Captain, it’s not recommended to deploy the towed array at speeds over twenty knots.”
Jain stiffened, irritated by Rakash’s reminder. The speed limitation was a peacetime specification made by the Russian manufacturer—it didn’t apply to the current situation. “I realize that, Number One, but we don’t have the luxury of mindlessly following the manual right now. Get the array deployed, I have to know where this fellow is if we are going to fight him. Also, load the new mobile decoy in tube eight and bring it to action state immediately.”
USS North Dakota
* * *
“Captain, Sierra eight seven has steadied up, estimated course one three five, but its speed continues to decrease. Current speed is twenty-two knots,” stated Thigpen. The report sounded definitive, but Jerry heard the slight indecision in his voice.
“Understood, XO. Is it good enough to shoot on?” It had been only a few minutes since both submarines had last maneuvered and the target motion analysis solution had
only just started firming up.
“Sir, I’d like another minute of data. I feel okay about the range, but I’d like to refine the course and speed a little more.”
“Very well, XO, one more minute.” Jerry looked at the current solution on his display. Chakra was to his south at eight thousand two hundred yards, slowly opening. Pivoting to Samant, he asked, “Captain, why is he slowing down? I would have kept on running.”
“I think he believes he needs to fight. Perhaps his mission orders don’t allow him to just walk away from a target, so he has to engage, either to sink us, or make us retreat. But he can’t fight without a sensor, and in this very shallow water the Skat-3 main hull sonar will be limited.”
“You think Jain is trying to deploy his towed array?” wondered Petrov. “He’s going a little fast for that; he could snap the cable.”
“True, but he really doesn’t have much of a choice now, does he?” Samant responded.
“How long does it take to deploy the array?” asked Jerry.
“Just a few minutes. It depends on the ship’s speed,” Petrov answered.
“XO! We’re running out of time. I need that solution now!”
INS Chakra
* * *
“Central post, new towed array contact bearing red one three zero,” Patil announced over the speaker.
Jain lunged for the intercom box and punched the button. “Sonar, you’re sure of the single bearing?” He was puzzled by the report, as towed array bearings always came in pairs, requiring another course change to resolve the ambiguity.
“Yes, sir. The other bearing points toward the mud, the ten-meter curve. The contact has to be to the north. It looks like an American Virginia-class attack submarine.”
The sonar chief’s report caused the color to drain from both Jain’s and Rakash’s faces. For a brief moment, they looked at each other with hushed anxiety. Finally, the first officer broke the awkward silence. “Could it be the American we fought during the war?”