by Jon Sedran
Iran’s top military leaders had held back a large number of their military assets. Now they were ready to begin their counter-strikes against U.S. and allied forces. In a last-minute meeting, the commanding generals of Iran’s Navy and Air Force and IRGC’s General Namazi, made final preparations and issued orders to their subordinate commanders for the military response.
“The American Fifth Fleet cannot leave the Gulf,” reported Admiral Tovar, sounding supremely confident. “We have placed over two-thousand mines in the Strait. They think we are beaten, but now it is our turn.” Admiral Tovar gathered his subordinate commanders together around a table with navigational charts spread out on it. “Our plan is for swarming attacks. Each of you knows your assignment.” He paused, and then went on pointing at various markers placed on the chart as he spoke, “We have one-hundred fast attack boats in position, here, here, and here, and forty more around these islands. Many are well-hidden in coastal caves, and we have suffered only a few losses. We have twenty mini-subs and three Kilo-class subs, which put to sea two days ago heading to intercept the American carrier George H.W. Bush. Our stealthy drones and Russian satellite downlink are relaying real-time information back so we know its exact location, heading and speed. Finally, we have over one-hundred twenty Sunburn missiles set up in hidden locations high up in the mountains here. On General Rabiei’s command they will fire in volleys at the American ships. Their carrier is one nice big target.”
“What about the American helicopters and fighter planes that protect their fleet?” asked one of the admirals.
“We have decoy drones ready to confuse them,” replied Tovar, adding, “They will feel the full force of our newest missiles on our fast attack boats…and their ships will be sent flaming into the sea.”
“We kept many of our coastal radars and missile defensive systems off-line and hidden to prevent their destruction,” added the air defense commanding general.
“Our Islamic Republican Guard Corps will do its duty!” exclaimed Namazi.
“And the American submarines?” asked another admiral.
“Their large attack subs cannot maneuver well in these shallow waters…we have the advantage,” declared Tovar.
“Any more questions? If not, go do your duty! And may Allah be with us!”
* * * *
Morris stood on the bridge of the carrier George H.W. Bush surveying the horizon with binoculars. All they could do now was watch and wait to see what Iran’s next move would be. The electronic eyes and ears of the carrier were scanning the airspace more than a hundred miles out into the Gulf and over the surrounding land. The information was displayed on the screens in the ship’s Combat Information Center and relayed to the bridge. The carrier and the entire fleet were at DEFCON ONE and expecting a large-scale attack could come at any moment. So far, losses in the latest round of fighting had not been too severe. Two U.S. Navy minesweepers had been sunk when they had each struck a previously unknown type of mine, and two littoral combat ships had been strafed by Iranian fighter aircraft. The British had also lost a minesweeper, and a Type 45 destroyer had been hit and heavily damaged by a surface to surface missile fired from an Iranian gunboat.
“We wouldn’t be stuck here if those dickheads in Washington had listened,” proclaimed Morris loudly, adding, “The Chief tried to tell them the Iranians will mine the Strait and we will be stuck in the Persian Gulf until our minesweepers can clear them, and that may take months.” The admiral looked around at the bridge crew and at Clancy for a few moments, then went on, “Now we have our fucking carrier stuck here…and shit…if I were the Iranian Navy commander I would….” The admiral stopped herself mid-sentence. She didn’t need to remind the crew that they were a twelve-hundred foot long, ninety-seven thousand ton, juicy target. Two U.S. cruisers were out in front thirty miles. Also the Virginia and another fast attack sub, were patrolling the Gulf for underwater threats assisted by a navy Seahawk helicopter routinely dropping sono-bouys. Two Type 23 British frigates were behind them twenty miles back. But the crew all knew the advantage was to any adversary that could conduct a close range swarming missile and torpedo attack against the big ship.
“Captain, an F-18, call sign Troll two-one just called, about forty minutes out, coming in with engine trouble on number one,” called out the ship’s air boss.
“Okay, let me know when he’s ten minutes out,” directed Clancy.
“Emergency equipment’s at the ready,” yelled out the ops officer.
On this day, the carrier group found itself near the midpoint of the Gulf on a southerly heading, putting them near some of the deepest water in the Gulf. Deeper water would afford the two attack subs the best chance to intercept any Iranian min-subs before they got close enough to launch an attack.
* * * *
“My God, look at all these intelligence reports pouring in from the Persian Gulf,” Maddy exclaimed, shaking her head. “We can’t possibly sort through all this shit.”
“Everyone listen up,” announced General Lowe, entering the room full of analysts. “We have to move quickly on this. The question of does Iran have the bomb, has now been answered in two blinding flashes of light.” He paused and looked directly at Maddy, then went on, “Maddy was obviously right; I feel like I should say congratulations. Unfortunately, those poor souls in those two cities have paid a terrible price for what will be seen a major intelligence failure. Now it is imperative we find out if they have more nuclear weapons. If so, how many, and where are they being kept?”
Maddy and the group sat quietly and listened to his every word. Their thoughts were on their families and what if this should spiral into an all-out nuclear war. “I want you to split into three teams. One to work on the nukes and the other two will continue on their conventional weapons. We have the latest spatial stuff from the NRO. If they do have any more nukes they could be storing them anywhere. U.S. and NATO forces have complete control of Iranian airspace and are not allowing the Iranians to put anything in the air. Their mobile missile launchers remain the toughest to find and to take out. They also still have a couple of Kilo-class subs. Any questions?”
Maddy spoke up, “General, my analysts have been working sixteen hour shifts with no days off for over a week now and the stress is starting to show,” she paused and then said, “But I believe I can speak for everyone here…we will keep going.” Everyone in the room nodded.
“Thank you all,” said Lowe. He turned and walked out.
* * * *
At two am in the Oval Office, a decision on whether or not to strike Iran’s nuclear sites had to be made.
“Mr. President we have degraded their defenses sufficiently to allow for precision strikes on their nuclear facilities,” reported Bingham.
“Alex, this could be tricky, no mistakes,” said Acosta, rubbing his eyes.
“We have the most precise weapons ever made,” the Defense Secretary assured him.
Acosta sighed. He hadn’t slept well in days. “Our final goal is regime change in Iran, but we will not be drawn into another lengthy ground war or occupation,” he paused, then added, “And we don’t want clouds of radiation drifting around the globe. General, you have said we can knock out their nuclear facilities safely.”
“Mr. President, there are risks of course, but we are highly confident we can cripple their plants and end all enrichment activities without causing significant radiation leaks.” Acosta looked unconvinced. Bingham continued, “Most of the targets are underground, we will use bunker-busters and the blast waves will destroy and also bury those facilities.”
Acosta shuffled through some photos of Amman’s destruction and nodded slowly, “Do you plan to hit them all simultaneously?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” replied Bingham.
“The Russians were told to get all their technicians out, and had plenty of time,” Simpson assured the President.
Acosta thought for a few moments, and then said, “Okay, let’s do it, and may God help us if this goes wrong.”
* * * *
Iran’s Naval Forces Commander arrived by car at the Bandar Abbas naval base and went straight to the base operations briefing room. He was ready to launch naval actions against the American and NATO forces in the region. Tovar had with him the latest intelligence on the locations of the ships of the U.S. Fifth Fleet. This attack was what his forces had been training for and what the allies were expecting. He entered the room where five high-ranking Iranian naval officers and fifteen IRGC-N officers were waiting. He quickly spread out nautical charts and maps on a large table. The officers immediately gathered around.
“The American carrier George H.W. Bush is here,” the admiral began, pointing to a mark he had made on the map. He glanced up to make sure all were paying close attention. “They are sailing at eighteen knots, heading one-eight-zero degrees. The U.S. missile cruiser Bunker Hill is here,” again he pointed to a mark on the map. “There is also a U.S. destroyer here and a British frigate here,” he continued, pointing to more marks. “There are almost certainly two attack subs on patrol, probably in this area.” He stopped and looked grimly at all their faces. “This is a standard formation for them, and what we have practiced for many times,” he explained. The officers all nodded vigorously.
“Here are your orders,” he said as he handed each of them a packet. “I have coordinated our attack with our land-based missile batteries. You will each attack with your assigned forces at the precise times and in the exact order listed. We will overwhelm their defenses.” As they each opened their packets, the adrenalin was flowing. Every one of them wanted to be able to say they sank a U.S. aircraft carrier.
* * * *
At DIA, staff was scrambling to keep the Joint Chiefs up to date on Iran’s military capabilities and to find out if they had any more nukes.
“Tracy, what have you got on those new Russian-made supersonic anti-ship missiles Iran recently deployed?” asked Barillas, adding, “Iran supposedly took delivery of twelve of the SS-N-22 Sunburns and at least six of the SS-NX-26 Yakhonts. The foreign tech folks at Wright-Pat were supposed to give us the data on their capabilities.”
“I’ve got it here Aaron,” replied Tracy, picking a report up off her desk. She read out loud, “Looks like max range estimates, max altitude. Let’s see, in the summary they state: Sunburn-Possibly one of the most lethal missiles in the world today. Can deliver a 750-pound conventional warhead, within a range of one-hundred miles. Combines a speed of Mach two with a flight profile that hugs the deck and incorporates violent end maneuvers to elude enemy defenses. The missile is specifically designed to defeat the US Aegis radar defense system. Should a navy Phalanx point defense system manage to detect an incoming missile, the system would have only seconds to calculate a fire solution. Likely, not enough time to take out the incoming missile. SS-NX-26 Yakhonts missile: Has a max speed of almost Mach three and a range of over one-hundred-eighty miles. Our last regional threat assessment showed both types deployed along the Persian Gulf's northern shore. We stated they are a serious threat to every US ship plying the gulf waters.”
“Aaron, do you have the latest spatial stuff from NRO?” Maddy yelled from across the room, as she poured over intelligence reports coming in from the gulf area.
Maddy’s secure cell phone rang; the caller ID showed it was Lowe.
“Yes general,” answered Maddy.
“The JCS wants another battle damage assessment in one hour to brief the President. Especially, which Iranian weapons systems have been disabled or destroyed by our air attacks.” said Lowe, adding, “Did you see the latest report, the Natanz and Fordow sites were put out of commission and the Arak reactor too.
“Yes, and I understand thankfully no clouds of radiation,” she replied.
“Luckily we were able to destroy the underground sites and damage the reactor cooling system which forced a shutdown,” reported Lowe, adding, “I see where nine Russian technicians were killed. I’m sure the Russians are pissed, but they had been given plenty of warning to get their people out,” he said.
“We’ll have the assessment shortly, general” Maddy assured him. “The targeting list is being updated now. The team working on assessing if they have any more nukes is also making good progress.
“Sounds good,” said Lowe.
“Maddy, it looks like their air defense radars are ninety-percent inoperative, only two sites remain up near Karg Island,” reported Barillas, continuing, “The Russians have refused to resupply their surface to air missile inventory and it looks like they have less than three-dozen left.”
“What about any more damn nukes? The ones which everyone was so sure they didn’t have in the first place?” Maddy asked sarcastically.
* * * *
In the Persian Gulf on the darkest of nights, just north of the Strait of Hormuz, the crew of the U.S. Navy ship, LCS Freedom was about to pit their new high-energy laser defensive system, known as LaWS, against the newest in Russian-designed advanced missile technology acquired by Iran. This had been only the second navy ship to be outfitted with the high powered laser system. Skimming the surface of the ocean and with sophisticated countermeasures programmed into their guidance systems, the missiles can be hard to detect and deadly to surface ships.
Already at general quarters, the Freedom’s radar operator was the first to see the threats and by then they were close. “Bridge, we have two inbound missiles…five…and five and a half miles, port side, closing fast,” she reported.
“The LaWS is on line, captain,” reported the defensive system’s officer.
“Engage the targets,” directed the captain, adding. “Send a message to fleet.”
“Captain, they’re going in and out of radar. The fire control radar is having trouble getting a lock and the system can’t assign priorities. They’re low and very fast,” reported the radar operator.
“Keep after it, and make sure Phalanx is on line,” directed the captain.
The fire control officer interrupted, “LaWS ranging now, on target one, acquiring.”
“Let’s do this now!” demanded the captain, anxiously looking at the bridge’s radar display.
“We have a lock…firing,” announced the fire control officer. The laser beam fired at the first incoming missile.
“Bridge, no change in speed or direction of the first missile…shit now it’s gone…maybe we got it,” reported the radar operator, raising her voice. Then she yelled, “No…shit…twenty seconds to impact.”
“Goddamn it, fire again,” ordered the captain.
“Sir, system can’t hold a lock, the missile is apparently doing last second course changes,” reported the fire control officer in the CIC, adding, “Phalanx is firing. Ten seconds to impact!” he yelled.
“Brace for shock! Brace for shock!” shouted the captain.
In near total darkness, the two Russian-made Sunburn missiles were traveling at nearly three times the speed of sound and streaking along less than twenty feet above the surface of the Gulf water. Guided toward the ship, first by land-based mobile radar which U.S. air attacks had failed to destroy, the missiles were in their terminal self-guidance phase.
The ship’s klaxons blared as sailors braced themselves. With only seconds to go, crewmen on every deck grabbed for anything solid they could hold onto. The ship’s close-in missile defense systems were trying to lock on to the radar-evading missiles and bring them down. Rounds from the twenty and twenty-five mm close-in guns were spraying a wide pattern of shells. The first missile struck port side and just as designed, it plunged through the aluminum hull just above the waterline and detonated deep within the lower decks. The shock wave rocked the entire ship. A few seconds later the second missile struck less than forty feet from where the first missile had impacted. Water began pouring in and fires raged throughout.
The captain picked himself up off the deck and grabbed intercom microphone. “All hands, this is the captain. We’ve taken two missile strikes. Damage control teams to their station
s!”
“We’ve lost contact with the engine room, captain, and main generators are off line!” reported the damage control officer as clouds of black smoke poured out from the two gaping holes in the ship’s side.
“Get smoke masks on,” the captain yelled.
The bridge crew looked nervously at each other as they put on their masks. The ship’s engines had stopped and most of the bridge displays had gone dark. With smoke masks on, the crew could not communicate effectively. The ship’s communications officer made several frantic calls to fleet. Flames quickly began erupting from several locations. After ten minutes the ship was listing twenty degrees to port. Efforts to pump ballast and stabilize the ship were unsuccessful.
The ship’s executive officer took off his smoke mask and looked at the captain. “Captain, damage control reports no hope of putting out the fires and the pumps cannot keep up. The engine room is gone, sir.” He wiped some perspiration off his face with his hand and then said, “Captain, if you don’t give the order to abandon ship now, we may capsize and lose everyone!”
A soot covered damage control officer came onto the bridge, took off his mask and shook his head. “Captain, the ship cannot be saved,” was his unfortunate assessment. He had managed to get back to the bridge by climbing past twisted metal and several sailors’ lifeless bodies. His face and mask were covered in blood and blood was dripping from a nasty gash in his forehead. The captain stood motionless, he appeared to be in shock. I am not going to lose my ship, no way, not gonna lose it! he thought as he walked up to the shattered windscreen and surveyed the bleak scene outside.
“Captain?” the executive officer inquired again, almost desperate for a confirming answer. The captain nodded. “Go ahead, order abandon ship…notify fleet.”
This would be the final voyage of one of the U.S. Navy’s newest types of ship, the LCS Freedom. Its captain, an Annapolis graduate, would suffer the indignation of being the first navy ship’s captain to lose a large ship to the Iranians, but he would not be the last.