To Slip the Surly Bonds

by Chris Kennedy

  “And they don’t care if people die, correct?”

  “As long as it’s not them. No, they don’t.”

  “Do we have comms with the Pentagon?”

  “Yes, Sir. They are standing by.”

  * * *

  The Battle Cab, the Pentagon 0801Z

  The Chairman’s face turned white as he listened to the phone, then said, “Yes, Sir. I understand. We will give them the launch code, sir. I agree, sir. There will most probably be a loss of life, possibly on both sides. No, sir. Thank you, sir.” He hung up and swiped a hand across his face, then turned to the CNO. “It’s a go. Do you want to send the message?”

  The CNO nodded. “They’re my people. It’s only fair that I send the message that may get them killed.”

  The Chairman opened a sealed binder and pulled out one code. “Launch code, correct?” he asked as he passed it down to each chief. They all agreed and passed it back.

  He handed it to the CNO, who keyed his mic. “Can I have the secure HF on my phone, please?” A few seconds later, the light above the handset lit up, and he heard the hissing of HF as he put it to his ear and squeezed the handset switch. They all looked up at the big screen as four blue flights sped into the North Atlantic to meet the oncoming red flight as it tracked further and further south.

  * * *

  P-3 #323, 500 Feet, 30NM off the Norwegian Coast 0804Z

  KJ heard a sudden pop in his ear and faintly heard their call sign. He looked at Barney, who was looking back, both hands clamped over his ears, and keyed the ICS. “Getting a call on HF 1, everybody copy, please.” He reached up and killed all the radios except HF 1 and heard, “Mike Kilo Two One, Mike Kilo Two One, this is November Charlie Alpha. How copy?”

  He glanced at Barney who pointed at him and handed him the sealed packet from the comm box. He keyed his mic. “November Charlie Alpha this is Mike Kilo Two One. Copy you weak but readable. How me?”

  “Mike Kilo Two One, November Charlie Alpha, copy you same. Stand by for code word.”

  “Mike Kilo Two One, standing by.”

  Mike Kilo Two One, November Charlie Alpha, code word is fastball, I say again fastball. How copy.”

  “Mike Kilo Two One, November Charlie Alpha, copy code word fastball.” KJ slit the package open as he keyed the ICS. “I copied fastball. Everybody else get that?”

  Randy looked around the cockpit and got thumbs up from everyone, “Flight station agrees.”

  “Jez, agrees.”

  “IFT, yep. Fastball.”

  KJ pulled out the envelope that said Fastball across the front, showed it to Barney, who nodded. He carefully slit it open and pulled out the authentication sequence. He showed that to Barney, who nodded again, and keyed the mic, “November Charlie Alpha, Mike Kilo Two One, request you authenticate Romeo Juliet.”

  “Mike Kilo Two One, November Charlie Alpha authenticates Papa Kilo X-ray.” KJ keyed his ICS, “Did y’all get Papa Kilo X-ray?”

  A flurry of double clicks answered him, and he keyed his mic. “November Charlie Alpha, Mike Kilo Two One, confirming authentication. Executing.”

  “Mike Kilo Two One, November Charlie Alpha understands executing. Be advised four MIG-two fives en route your position. God go with you.”

  “Mike Kilo Two One copies all.” KJ looked at the tasking order for a moment, then keyed the PA, “Crew, listen up. Our tasking is to launch our torpedoes against the Soviet subs. This is not a drill. I’m afraid we are about to start World War Three. And there are apparently MIG-25s inbound, probably to try to stop us. Pops, gimme a signal buoy in the chute. Code five. Flight take us down to 200. I’d also suggest we think about getting in poopy suits in case this all goes to shit and we end up in the water.”

  “Buoy’s loaded, TACCO.” KJ gave the flight station a fly-to point east of where the Soviet subs were and activated it, feeling the airplane bank that way as it bounced lower.

  Barney was struggling into his poopy suit, and KJ smiled as he reached behind the seat for his. Now I will not only be hot, I’ll be uncomfortable as hell as I try to get this shit right. Royster came forward in his suit, carrying Scoop’s, and he smiled wanly as he walked by KJ.

  “Pops, weapons checklist. We’ll go mid depth first for the Victor, then I want to go deep for the Alfa. We’ll reevaluate on the Oscar at that point.”

  Randy said, “Got comms on 243.0, Reaper flight. They want to know where we are.”

  KJ shrugged. “Handle it. Fifteen seconds to drop.”

  “Signal buoy away.” He activated the first weapons fly-to and said, “Flight, come right. I want you to hit that waypoint heading south.”

  “Got it.”

  “Mac, get the MAD warmed up. If we get a hit, I’ll drop on it.”

  “Copy. Be advised I’ve got Saphir radar in search mode, TACCO. Bearing is north.”

  “Flight, set five. We’re about to be in the shit. MiG-25 with look down, shoot down inbound. Only good thing is the Foxbats don’t have a gun!”

  Randy keyed the PA, “Crew, set five, strap in now! Man the aft windows, keep looking for anything coming down on us from above.”

  Iverson asked, “What is the bottom of the cloud deck?”

  KJ looked at his notes and said, “4000. Don’t plan on seeing the Foxbats. They can stay high and pop off missiles at us.”

  * * *

  USS Michigan, North Atlantic 0811Z

  “Conn, Sonar. I’ve got a code buoy pinging!”

  The captain asked, “One of ours?”

  “Yes, sir. A code five. What the hell is—?”

  The captain suddenly realized what it meant and yelled, “Take us up! Take us up! Keel depth 50 feet! Try not to broach.” He ran to sonar. “Chief, let me know if you hear torpedoes.”

  The sonar chief turned white. “Torps?”

  The captain nodded grimly. “And I don’t think they are going to be EX-torps. I think they will be war shots.”

  * * *

  P-3 #323, 200 Feet, 30NM off the Norwegian Coast 0816Z

  KJ keyed the ICS. “Two minutes to drop. Come left 160, flight. MAD standby.”

  “Bomb bay doors coming open,” Randy said. “Checklist complete.”

  KJ saw movement in the passageway and saw Pops crouching over the bomb bay window. He yelled, “What the fuck are you doing, Pops? Get in a seat!”

  Pops yelled back, “Gotta make sure it goes. I can roll into a ditching station right here.”

  Just as KJ started to say standby, Mac yelled, “MADMAN, MADMAN, MADMAN.”

  KJ punched the button and the torpedo fell free. “Weapon away, 0818.”

  Mac yelled again, “Saphir in fire control mode. They’ve locked us up! Bearing north.”

  Randy already had the bomb bay doors closing, and he rolled the P-3 seventy degrees and pulled almost three Gs, turning to the left and back into the MiGs.

  Iverson groaned. “Got a white streak coming down out of the clouds. It’s…went over us.”

  Barney yelled, “Aphid? No radar?”

  “Probably,” KJ yelled back and heard a groan in the aisle.

  Chief Clark and Dusty both said, “Torp lit off. High speed screws.”

  Mac came on again, “Saphir in search mode, bearing 180 from us.”

  KJ made a snap decision. Rolling his cursor over the suspected track of the Alfa, he dropped another weapons fly-to point and said, “Flight, hit that if we have time. Five, six minutes out if you reverse now.”

  Randy rolled the airplane hard again as Chief Clark said, “Victor is running. Got decoys in the water. Looks like he’s turning northward.”

  KJ double clicked the mic and started setting up the second torpedo’s programming as Randy stabilized the airplane heading more or less south. He heard a groan again and looked back to see Pops sprawled in the aisle with his left leg going in an unnatural direction. He keyed the PA, “Dusty, Ivy, can y’all come get Pops and put him in the ditching station by the over wing hatch? I think his leg’s broken.
”

  He heard, “On it.” and seconds later, the two of them were lifting Pops carefully and dragging him toward the back of the airplane.

  Randy said, “Reapers are three minutes out, they’re going to stay high. Knights are four minutes out, descending. They’re going to come down to 3000.”

  KJ looked at the checklist, made the last selection and said, “Weapon is programmed. All we need is the bomb bay doors. Two minutes out.”

  He got a double click, and Mac said, “Bearing reversal. Saphir in search mode still, bearing now 000.” A minute later he said, “Looks like the Foxbats split. One set of bearings now 330, the other…shit! Saphir lock again!”

  Randy said, “KJ?”

  “Gimme fifteen seconds.” He rolled the scale down and said, “Fuck it, weapon away 0823. Your airplane, Flight.”

  Randy rolled the airplane violently again just as Mac said, “New radar, terminal home mode! 000 bearing!”

  “Acrid, AA-6,” Barney yelled.

  Suddenly, Dusty came over the ICS singing, “Fins to the left, fins to the right…”

  KJ burst out laughing and glanced over at Barney who was smiling and shaking his head. He keyed the PA. “Yeah, we get it, Dusty.” He leaned across and yelled at Barney, “He ain’t never been right in the head.”

  Iverson came on quietly, “Something hit the water a couple of hundred yards 7 o’clock from us.”

  “Terminal homing radar lost,” Mac added. Then he said, “Bearing reversal on Saphir lock up.”

  KJ looked at his scope. “Flight, keeping heading northwest. Buoy 4, I’m going to put a torp out up there. Maybe we can get the Oscar’s attention.”

  Dusty said, “I’ve got the Oscar 330 out of 4. He’s fairly close to the buoy.”

  Randy asked, “How long? They seem to be locking us up every couple of minutes.”

  “Three, maybe four. Programming now.”

  A minute or two later, Eddie yelled, “Visual! Looks like…2 MiGs off the nose, high.”

  Mac chimed in, “Saphir lock up, 330, off the nose. Other set 240, search mode.”

  Randy replied, “We’re going to keep running at them. I don’t think they can lock us up and get a weapon off before we…Shit…Missile launch, right down our throat. Hang on folks.”

  KJ calmly said, “Gimme bomb bay doors.” He heard them cycle open and punched the third torp away. “Weapon away. 0828, line of bearing search.”

  Dusty came on the ICS. “Hey flight, that ship we just went by is shooting at us. It’s a Udaloy.”

  Mac said, “Bearing reversal.”

  Just as Randy and Eddie said, “Missile went high, MiGs just went over us.”

  “Aphid again,” Barney added.

  “Flight, gimme a left 270, I’m going to put the last torp on that damn Udaloy. Let’s see how he likes it.” KJ quickly worked through the programming, and as Randy straightened the P-3 on the new course, he hit the weapons release one more time. “Weapon away, torp 4, 0829. And we’re Winchester at this time.”

  “Saphir lock up, bearing 180, Flight!”

  Randy rolled the P-3 sharply right saying, “Right turns aren’t natural. Eddie, don’t let me hit the water, okay?”

  Scoop pushed up power, “Ain’t gonna happen boss. I’ll slap the shit outta you, you crash my airplane.”

  Randy couldn’t help but laugh as he continued pulling almost three Gs to get the airplane on a southern heading. This time Randy saw the two MiGs first. “Visual, off the nose, two MiGs, one of them is in a dive, it looks like. Missile away, inbound!”

  Mac yelled, “Terminal homing!”

  Charlie said, “Explosion, buoy 11, no other sounds.”

  “Copy. Don’t worry about them right now. Everybody cinch your belts down.”

  The P-3 was rocked hard left, and it was all Randy could do to keep it from rolling completely over as the missile hit the water and exploded underneath the right wing. “Lost aileron effectiveness, Eddie, we still got a wing out there?”

  “Yeah, but number four is on fire.”

  * * *

  USS Michigan, North Atlantic 0830Z

  “Conn, Sonar. Fourth torp in the water, bearing 030 relative.”

  Captain Thomas whistled softly as he looked at the plot. “Wonder what the fourth drop was on?” He looked at the plot again and smiled slowly. “High diddle, diddle.”

  The XO, Commander Green, looked over at him. “Sir?”

  “Whoever that was opened the middle up for us.” Pointing at the relative bearing lines to the torpedo noises, he continued, “Helm, make your course 245 True. Make turns for one half knot below cavitation speed. Weaps open outer doors, prep Mk-48s for snapshot.”

  “Helm, aye,” was the response, and he felt the deck tilt slightly and the thrum of the propulsor increase.

  “Weaps, aye.”

  “We’re going to run southwest, right through the middle. I think that was the intent.” He stepped over to the scope. “Scope up.” He caught it about waist high, spinning around as the tube rose higher, until he was standing straight up. “Close aboard is clear.”

  He turned toward the bow and increased the magnification to the maximum, moving back and forth. “Might be a P-3 out there. Distant. Some…jets too. And…that one looked like an F-4. Smoke trails. Somebody is catching hell. Just saw an explosion. Bearing, mark! Second explosion, bearing, mark!”

  “243 True, 238 True, Captain.”

  “Tell Sonar to listen down bearing 243.” He slapped the handles up and retracted the scope, “XO, you have the conn.”

  * * *

  Reaper and Black Knight Flights 0830Z

  “Reaper, Knight 01, we’ve got a tally on two Foxbats down here, oh wait, make that one Foxbat. The second just splashed itself. One P-3, on fire, it’s turning west. We’re intercepting remaining Foxbat.”

  “Knight, Reaper’s got two Foxbats turning tail up here. We’re at flight level 240 on top. Current heading 000 true.”

  “And Reaper, Knight. This guy doesn’t want to play. He’s…in the cloud, coming around on 000. I still have a lock. Coming upstairs, I’ll stop at 200. Go air-air 29.”

  “29.”

  “I’ve gotcha 190 at 10. I think this guy is going to pop out in front of you.”

  “Roger. We’ll pull it back a bit to make sure.”

  * * *

  P-3 #323, 200 Feet, 40NM off the Norwegian Coast 0832Z

  Scoop E-handled the number 4 engine, and Eddie said, “Good feather.”

  “Fire light, number 4. Check me, fire bottle selected.”

  Randy said, “Number 4. Hit it.” Scoop hit the fire extinguisher.

  Dusty came on the ICS. “Flight, I see fuel streaming out from under the wing between 3 and 4. And I still see fire in what’s left of number 4.”

  Eddie said, “Still seeing flames.”

  Scoop sighed. “Selecting alternate fire bottle. This is our last shot.”

  Eddie said, “Alternate selected.”

  Scoop fired it and watched as Eddie looked out the side window. “No joy.”

  Dusty yelled, “Flight, lots of flames out from under the wing, outboard of number 3!”

  Randy keyed the PA, “Crew, prepare for ditching. We don’t have any choice.” He turned the P-3 slowly south, paralleling the waves and said, “Fuck it. Send a distress message.”

  Barney keyed the HF as KJ keyed the UHF on guard. Barney put out the standard ditching message as KJ said quickly, “Knight, Mike Kilo 21, we’re going in. How about relaying to somebody to come get us?”

  He heard a quick, breathless response. “Knight 02, copy. We see you. SOBs?”

  KJ answered, “Thirteen, one three. Souls on board. One injured, broken leg. Time 0834.”

  “Knight 02 copies.”

  Randy keyed the PA. “Standby for ditch.” One long ring of the command bell followed, and he said, “Brace!”

  KJ glanced over at Barney as he put his head down, saying a quick prayer as the P-3 hit the water, t
hen bounced, bounced again, and slewed violently to the right. KJ vaguely remembered throwing up his arm, and then nothing.

  He came to as Barney and Tim dragged him down the aisle, and he moaned in pain. Tim asked, “Where are you hurt?”

  “My arm. I can walk, I think.” Water sloshed back and forth as it bubbled deeper and deeper, and he asked, “Everybody out?”

  “Randy’s checking. We’re the last from up front.”

  The next thing he remembered was lying in the raft, and Dusty, his face covered in blood, bitching, “I brode by dam node agin. Dam parachood.”

  He looked around. “Where’s Pop?”

  Randy leaned over him. “He’s in the other raft. We’re all out. Iverson broke his foot falling in the hydraulic service center. Here, take this aspirin,” Randy said, sticking it between his lips and holding a baby bottle full of water up to his lips.

  KJ choked it down and coughed, “Thanks. What happened?”

  Eddie laughed ironically. “Right wing outboard of number three came off. Hooked a wave. Six of us in here, the other seven in the twelve man. We’re tied together. Knights said they’d notify sea-air rescue. They had to leave; they were out of gas and needed to tank to get home.”

  KJ propped himself up a little. “So what have we got for radios and rats?”

  Hairy replied, “Standard raft fare, and the rate we’re drifting, we might make Norway before anyone finds us. So far, five, maybe six working radios, plus the two radios on the raft. One radio watch, one lookout. Two hours at a time.”

  * * *

  USS Michigan, North Atlantic 1230Z

  Chief of the Boat Handfield swung the periscope and flipped to maximum magnification, then sang out, “I’ve got a life raft. Bearing, Mark!”

  The navigator said, “243 true.”

  “Somebody go wake up the captain.” He ran the cross hairs down and said, “Range 1100 yards. Second raft sighted.” He looked over at the helm, “Make turns for slow ahead. Steer 235.”

  “Helm, aye.”