Taken at face value, the first paragraph did little except restate agreements discussed previously with Kissinger, while the second paragraph could easily have been accepted as posturing, especially considering that the Soviet Union had not dispatched troops at a time when those forces would have assisted the Arab states in actually accomplishing their objectives. The failure of the Soviet Union to act unilaterally in recent days should have encouraged Kissinger to seek another bout of diplomacy. Instead, the exhausted leadership of the National Security Council, meeting in emergency session shortly after the delivery of the document, reacted strongly to the threat of intervention. On October 25, at 0025 hours, the White House ordered the military forces of the United States to set DefCon 3 world-wide.15 No member of the council nor the high-ranking military officers who quickly began to implement the increased alert level could have guessed that within hours their action would lead to a full fledged naval engagement between American and Soviet warships in the Mediterranean.
Sixth Fleet and Fifth Eskadra, October 6–24
The conflict that opened in the Middle East found Vice Admiral Daniel Murphy’s Sixth Fleet scattered far and wide across the Mediterranean basin. Task Group (TG) 60, comprising the cruiser Little Rock (fleet flagship, with Murphy aboard) and escorts, cruised south of Crete. TG 60.1, the carrier Independence and escorts, rested in Athens, near the end of a brief, but deserved, liberty run. TG 60.2, the carrier Franklin Delano Roosevelt and escorts, had scattered among several Spanish harbors for refit, resupply, and (when the workday ended) recreation. TG 60/61, a ten-ship amphibious group built around the Guadalcanal and transporting Marine Battalions 2/6 and 3/6, was anchored in various Greek ports.
Aside from its task groups, several units of the Sixth Fleet operated independently on October 6, such as the five attack submarines maneuvering at various points and Patrol Division 21 (Patrol Gunboat Tender Graham County and the Patrol Gunboats Antelope, Defiance, and Surprise) at Naples, as well as the usual replenishment ships.16 Air assets, aside from carrier planes, included the crack Patrol Squadron 45 (VP-45) at Siganella, Sicily, equipped with Orion P-3Cs and fresh from winning the coveted Captain Arnold J. Isbell Trophy for excellence in anti-submarine warfare (ASW) operations.17
The men and women commanded by Murphy were highly experienced in the arts of war. Vietnam had seen to that. Still, among their number could be found a smattering of newbies and transfers (as well as the combat burnouts) who bore watching and training. Overall, the admiral was happy with his people—it was the “highly experienced” equipment that worried him. Too many of his vessels were approaching the end of their useful lives, and the dwindling naval budget meant that they could not be replaced. Already, ships were in short supply in every potential theater of war. In the Mediterranean, both simulations and strategists agreed that a minimum of three carriers would be needed immediately in a hot war situation (four carriers if the USSR was joined by its Arab allies). Like it or not, however, he would see that third carrier only when the situation neared an explosion point, and then only at the expense of another admiral’s bailiwick. Murphy only hoped that the Russkies did not get the jump on him before he could concentrate his scattered forces.
On the morning of October 6, however, it did not appear that the Soviet Fifth Eskadra had any warlike intentions. Most of its surface warships—three cruisers, seven destroyers, and nine frigates or corvettes, along with two amphibious vessels, two minesweepers, and several replenishment ships—were anchored in various ports in the Eastern Mediterranean. Additionally, American intelligence had plotted 16 Russian attack submarines operating in recent weeks, almost evenly divided between the Eastern and Western Mediterranean. Intelligence was also aware that the Soviets always relieved their on station submarines in mid-October, so the number of submarines would fluctuate over the next two weeks, and every effort would be made to identify the newcomers as they transited the Strait of Gibraltar or the Dardanelles. Other indicators, such as air traffic, appeared normal, while the confrontations and day-to-day harassment so common at sea during the Cold War had been minimal for months. Then the peaceful morning of October 6 became a distant memory as the surprise attack on Israel by Egypt and Syria took the commanders of both fleets by varying degrees of surprise (though the officers commanding the separate elements of Fifth Eskadra had been warned of the coming attack, they had not been advised of the time and date that the offensive would begin).
In the hours following the attack, several Soviet ships sortied and Sixth Fleet noticed an almost immediate increase in air activity as long-range Tu-95RT Bear and shorter ranged Tu-16 Badger aircraft, operating from airfields in Hungary, Egypt, and Libya, stepped up Russian reconnaissance in the Mediterranean. Soon, a steady stream of An-22 transports (the largest Russia cargo carriers) flew from Soviet airdromes to airfields in Egypt and Syria, replacing military equipment and munitions expended by the Arabs.
Admiral Murphy immediately requested permission from Washington to concentrate his scattered task groups and move to a position within supporting range of Israel. The response shocked him to no little degree:
“The initial guidance… advised that the United States would maintain a low key, even-handed approach toward the hostilities. To project this attitude, the Sixth Fleet was directed to continue routine, scheduled operations and to avoid overt moves which might be construed as indicating the United States was preparing to take an active part in the conflict.”18
This simply did not make good sense. Was Israel not an ally of the United States? Did anyone in Washington realize that the Soviets were concentrating their forces and would be more than able to do tremendous damage to an unprepared Sixth Fleet with an initial strike? The only positive notes in Murphy’s orders allowed him to order TG 60.1 (Independence and its escorts) to join TG 60 in the holding area south of Crete but to continue with normal operations throughout the fleet. Under the guise of normality, Murphy increased the tempo of ASW and reconnaissance patrols (for training purposes, of course), ordered TG 60.2 (Roosevelt and escorts) to expedite its refit and join ASW exercises in the Western Mediterranean (as close to the Eastern Mediterranean as Washington would allow), and sortied as many replenishment vessels as possible. TG 60/61 finally went to sea on October 9, but only to move to another vulnerable anchorage, at Souda Bay, Crete. At least those ships with their Marines could be kept ready to sail at a minute’s notice. Initial steps taken, the admiral could do little except monitor the increasingly dangerous local situation and repeatedly request freedom of action and reinforcement.
On October 9, Sixth Fleet reported that a Soviet submarine tender and a cruiser were shadowing TG 60.1. Such “tagging” was a Cold War norm, but the shadowing vessels were seldom more than an intelligence trawler or a destroyer. The suspected presence of a Russian admiral aboard each of the vessels was also highly atypical. Additionally, several Soviet Foxtrot (attack submarine) contacts had been identified in the vicinity of the task group, and requests by additional Soviet surface and subsurface forces to transit the Dardanelles had been made to Turkey. Washington finally responded to the increasing Russian presence by ordering the carrier John F. Kennedy, accompanied by three destroyers and an oiler, to leave exercises in the North Sea and to join the Sixth Fleet as TG 60.3. Unfortunately for Murphy, it would not be allowed to enter the Mediterranean. To avoid any appearance of escalation, TG 60.3 would cruise in the Atlantic just outside the Straits of Gibraltar until released by Washington. To make matters worse, as Operation Nickel Grass began, all but four European nations—Holland, Portugal, Italy, and Greece—denied the right of air passage or port usage to American efforts to resupply Israel. Thus Murphy had to create a picket line of destroyers to guide and, if necessary, to succor, the MAC C-5 and C-141 transports involved in the operation. The dissipation of his escorts was unacceptable, especially at a time when the Soviets were obviously concentrating their naval assets, but unavoidable.
Over the next 12 days, as a victorious Isr
ael swept over its Arab attackers and Cold War politics reached a boiling point, Soviet ships continued to enter the Mediterranean while American intelligence officers reported a number of ominous indicators pointing to a Soviet willingness to commit troops in support of their Arab clients. On the morning of October 24, Admiral Murphy reported a total of 80 confirmed Soviet vessels in the Mediterranean, including 26 surface warships and 16 Foxtrots.19 The bulk of the surface warships formed three major surface action groups (SAGs). One, composed of a Sverdlov Class cruiser (four triple-barreled 152mm gun turrets) and a Kashin Class destroyer (two twin-barreled 76mm turrets) closely followed TG 60.1, within easy range of Independence. A second, and much larger, SAG operated just over the horizon from TG 60.1. Its two Kynda Class guided missile cruisers carried SS-N-3 missiles, with a range of 200 miles (though a ship, submarine, or aircraft at the target site was needed to provide targeting data for the SS-N-3s), while the two Mod-Kashin and the three Mod-Kildin Class destroyers with the SAG had short-range (20-mile) SS-N-2c missiles. This SAG also included four corvettes and various replenishment ships. The final SAG, two Mod-Kasbins, patrolled off Souda Bay, watching TG 60/61. At least five Soviet Foxtrots hovered near the Crete holding area, and three of them were capable of launching cruise missiles.
In Washington, intelligence sources informed the White House that it “appeared” that Soviet airborne forces had been placed on alert, while all An-22s (the planes needed to transport those forces) had been withdrawn from Arab resupply operations. Soviet pilots were “possibly” flying Foxbats (Soviet first-line air superiority fighters) in Egypt. Five additional Foxtrots were en route via the Atlantic to the Mediterranean, while a cruiser—“tentatively identified” as the Moskva (the premier Soviet ship of the day, equipped with helicopters for ASW operations)—and six additional destroyers had declared passage through the Dardanelles and would reach the Mediterranean within 36 hours. Also, the “possibility existed” that Soviet troops in Europe were preparing to move to a higher state of readiness.20 Then, on the heels of Murphy’s solid analysis of Soviet forces within the Mediterranean and the much qualified update by American intelligence services, Brezhnev’s letter of October 24 arrived at the White House, and the order to go to DefCon 3 was issued. In the Mediterranean, October 25 began badly, then deteriorated into pure hell.
Sixth Fleet and Fifth Eskadra, October 25–26
It took less than 20 minutes for the Joint Chiefs of Staff to initiate DefCon 3 world wide. Much happened in that 20 minutes. In the United States, both Continental Air Defense and Strategic Air Command began repositioning assets and putting additional planes in the air. The 82nd Airborne at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, was alerted for immediate deployment to the Mediterranean, while B-52 bombers in Guam prepared to return home to prep for use in the Middle East. In Europe, anxious commanders recalled troops from leave and began to deploy fully combat-ready units along the Iron Curtain.21
Aboard Little Rock, Admiral Murphy had been notified of DefCon 3 at 0631 local time. With relief, he noted that TG 60/61, TG 60.2, and TG 60.3 had been ordered to join TG 60 in its holding area at flank speed. Within 72 hours, he would have a concentration of carriers that would allow him to hold his own, at the least, in the eastern Mediterranean. Six destroyers had also been ordered to join his command from the Atlantic and five submarines had surged from Atlantic bases, though it would take these reinforcements as much as a week to reach the waters off Crete. Unfortunately, in the brief minutes that it had taken Murphy to scan the alert order, fire blossomed over his task groups.
At 0600, in the CIC of the USS Aubrey, Lieutenant Gadsden had begun running his men through an anti-air warfare (AAW) drill. Such drills were a daily constant during peacetime, and the “blue birds” (training missiles) on the racks offered little danger if an accidental firing command should be issued. Gadsden was quite proud of the efficiency of both his ship and his highly skilled team, as orders to acquire the target and simulate launches of Aubrey’s SM-1 SAMs came through his headset, transmitted by the officer aboard the Independence controlling the entire task group’s AAW screen. Certainly Gadsden had no desire to trade places with that officer, who had to integrate AAW ships scattered across a roughly 60-mile circle centered on the carrier.
The Aubrey’s simulated enemy that morning was an unarmed Soviet Tu-95RT Bear that had been circling overhead for the past four hours, constantly painted by the target-acquisition radar of one or another of the American escorts as it monitored the forces below. At 0631, the destroyer’s captain ordered the training exercise secured and for the ship to go to Condition III (wartime readiness). Gadsden immediately ordered the training munitions switched for live birds. At that, a tap on the shoulder marked the arrival of his relief, delayed for half an hour by the drill. Passing over his headset, the young lieutenant made his way to the hatch, planning to take a quick break before checking his men at their Condition III stations. Gadsden whirled as he heard the tense words spoken by his replacement: “I am prepared to fire.” Something was wrong, and Gadsden yelled “Verify! Verify!” even as he watched the man toggle two warbirds away. Seconds passed, and his replacement’s eyes grew wide as words streamed into his earphones: “My God, they’re still playing games over there.” The time was 0636.
Destroyer are small vessels. Their crews tend to pride themselves on being as quick to respond to orders as their nimble ships to their helms. Thus the Aubrey reached Condition III a full five minutes before the order had made its way through the much larger Independence to the officer coordinating the AAW drill. Indeed, that man was still “playing” wargames while live munitions were being racked—and launched—on the destroyer, and since Aubrey was at Condition III when the order was received, it was not questioned. In modern war, seconds mean life or death, and the only way to stop a “shoot” order is through direct negation by a superior officer. Still, all was not lost. The SM-1s would take a full minute to reach their target, plenty of time to activate the abort charges in the warhead.
Lunging across the stunned missile officer to reach his console, Gadsden slammed the abort toggles for the warbirds. One bird exploded, pieces falling harmlessly into the sea. The other tracked unerringly, and as a doomed Russian pilot cried in anguish into his throat mike: “They have killed us, the bastards have…” the SM-1 ripped his port wing entirely away.22 Both Russian and American eyes turned to the sky as the bomber fell from 6,000 feet to impact the blue waters below. There were no chutes.
Accident and coincidence have been the twin plagues of warfare since times no longer remembered. This accident had been of American origin, and upon due consideration, it should not have sparked any more of an incident than any other of the dozens upon dozens of collisions between American and Soviet forces during the Cold War. This time, however, coincidence stalked the bridge of the Soviet Sverdlov Class cruiser Admiral Ushakov, trailing the American task groups. Its captain, a veteran of years at sea and a capitalist-hating member of the Communist Party, stared through cold eyes at the two cruisers and six smaller warships crowding the waters between the Ushakov, its trailing destroyer, and the American carrier just visible on the far horizon. He hated that carrier, a symbol of the unrestrained bourgeois power that dominated the world’s seas. Beyond the carrier, already dissipating in the light breeze, a column of black smoke marked the final resting place of a boyish Russian pilot. Tomorrow, in Odessa, a young wife heavy with that pilot’s first child would receive a telegram informing her of his death. There was nothing that the captain of the Ushakov could do for that wife and unborn child—his daughter, and grandson to be—except give them vengeance and a world free of Yankee imperialists.
At 0645, as the first messages streamed from the Mediterranean to the startled politicians and desk-bound warriors of Moscow and Washington, the Admiral Ushakov turned sharply to port and salvoed 12 152mm shells at the Independence, while its secondary battery ravaged the closest American destroyer. Confusion reigned through both fleets for vital mi
nutes. The Russian admiral aboard the Ushakov could not believe his ears. Why were they firing? Rushing onto the bridge, he tripped over the body of the ship’s commissar. Recovering, his eyes flickered across the bridge of a ship at war, a crew finally doing what they had prepared to do for years: ripping the guts out of the damned Americans. The last thing the admiral ever saw was the face of his captain, gripped firmly by the madness born of 30 years of carefully nurtured hate and an instant of loss. In the captain’s hand, the pistol that had killed his interfering political officer still smoked. Then, before either officer could speak, two rounds from the heavy guns of an American cruiser struck the bridge, ending their Cold War in a blast of fire.23
Events of the next minutes and even hours in the waters near Crete are hopelessly muddled due to the loss of high-ranking officers and the refusal of the respective governments to release sealed records. From the few published memoirs and numerous interviews with survivors, it appears that the Admiral Ushakov became combat ineffective within minutes of the destruction of its bridge, sinking later in the morning with over 600 casualties. Its consort, the Kashin Class destroyer, opened fire only when fired upon by two American frigates. Its captain’s cries for explanation went unanswered as his ship exploded and sank with all hands some 30 minutes into the action.
In this opening engagement, Murphy’s screening forces had lost only one destroyer, though another destroyer, two frigates, and a cruiser had been significantly damaged (casualties totaled fewer than 300 overall). Of course, the relatively light damage to the screen had come at a large price—the carrier Independence, on which the Russian cruiser’s main battery had been constantly locked, had suffered no fewer than 11 152mm shell hits. Though its power plant remained fully operational, initial reports indicated that the carrier’s deck was riddled, its catapults smashed, and fires threatened to reach fuel storage areas. Among its 500 dead and wounded rested the commander of Task Group 60.1 as well as the ship’s captain. Except for the planes already in the air, Murphy had lost both his air cover and his main striking arm. This was, of course, only one of many worries for a man who suddenly found himself metaphorically drowning as the ice of the Cold War melted.
Cold War Hot: Alternate Decisions of the Cold War Page 25