by Jeff Edwards
The captain turned to Chief McPherson. “How about it, Chief? Did those subs sneak by us?”
Blue lines of bearing were beginning to appear on the CDRT, angling away from Ingraham’s NTDS symbol. “I don’t know, sir,” the chief said. “It looks like they did, but … maybe Ingraham’s Gremlin isn’t one of the subs. Maybe it’s a fishing boat, or something too small to give a decent radar return. We need to find out if they’ve got any narrowband frequencies we can use to classify this guy.”
The XO looked at the TAO. “Brian, ask Ingraham if they’re getting any narrowband.”
The TAO nodded. “Ingraham, this is SAU Commander. Interrogative narrowband tonals, over.”
The reply came back a few seconds later. “SAU Commander, this is Ingraham. Negative narrowband tonals at this time, over.”
“How about small craft?” the chief asked.
The TAO went out over Navy Red again. “Ingraham, this is SAU Commander. Interrogative surface small craft in the area of Gremlin Zero One, over.”
“SAU Commander, this is Ingraham. Negative small craft in area of my Gremlin. My radar did show one motorboat near the initial bearing of my contact, but I am now seeing over thirty degrees of bearing separation. Do not believe my Gremlin is a small craft, over.”
The XO said, “That’s it, then. I say we let them break formation, Captain. If those subs have gotten past us, they’re either going to slip away or jam a torpedo up our ass. We need to jump on this sucker before it gets away.”
The captain nodded. “Looks like we just proved Patton’s old adage: No plan ever survives contact with the enemy. I hate to throw this one out the window, but we can’t take a chance on even one of those subs getting by us. Let Ingraham go, Brian. And tell them we’re standing by to assist.”
The TAO said, “Yes, sir.” He keyed up Navy Red. “Ingraham, this is SAU Commander. You are cleared to break formation to pursue your Gremlin. Towers is standing by to assist, over.”
“Wait a second,” Chief McPherson said. “Ask them what their contact looks like, sir.”
The TAO’s eyebrows went up. “What?”
“What it looks like,” the chief said. “Is it strong or weak? Fuzzy or discrete? What are its acoustic characteristics?”
The TAO cocked his head to one side. “Uh … Ingraham, this is SAU Commander. Interrogative acoustic characteristics of your Gremlin, over.”
The reply took nearly a minute. “SAU Commander, this is Ingraham. My Sonar Operators describe the contact as strong and discrete broadband, with diffused swaths of narrowband that are too broad and indiscrete to track or classify. Target is showing a tightly packed cluster of frequencies up around 550 hertz, but it’s too muddled to process, over.”
Chief McPherson slapped the CDRT. “I knew it!” She looked up. “Captain, that’s a decoy!”
“Where the hell did it come from?”
“I don’t know, sir. Maybe that motorboat launched it; they don’t weigh more than fifteen or twenty pounds. But what they’re tracking sounds like a perfect description of the one we had earlier—the one that suckered Antietam out of the formation.”
Captain Bowie snapped his fingers and pointed to the TAO. “Tell them! Do it quick!”
The TAO keyed up Navy Red. “Ingraham, this is SAU Commander. Gremlin Zero One evaluated as a mobile decoy. Return to formation immediately, over!”
“Ingraham, aye!”
On the CDRT, the Ingraham’s NTDS symbol began to swing back toward the hole it had left in the formation. She was almost back in position when the net crackled with an incoming message from the Sensor Operator aboard Firewalker Two-Six. “USWE—SENSO, buoys five and six are hot. We hold narrowband tonals consistent with Type 212 diesel submarines. Initial classification: POSS-SUB, confidence level high!”
Immediately afterward, a call from the pilot came over the HAWK-Link. “SAU Commander, this is Firewalker Two-Six. Request permission to break hot-pump.”
The TAO keyed his mike. “Firewalker Two-Six, this is SAU Commander. Break hot-pump. Stand by for green deck.”
He turned to the captain. “Request permission to launch the helo, sir.”
The captain nodded. “Do it.”
The TAO keyed up again. “Firewalker Two-Six, this is SAU Commander. Your contact designated Gremlin Zero Two. You have green deck. Launch when ready.”
Less than a minute later, the helo keyed the HAWK-Link again. “SAU Commander, this is Firewalker Two-Six. I am up for Towers control. My fuel state is three hours plus four zero minutes. Three souls aboard. My load-out is one Mark-54 torpedo and a mixed rack of sonobuoys, over.”
“Roger, Firewalker,” the TAO said. “Break. Ingraham, this is SAU Commander. Alert status of your aircraft, Gunslinger Four-One upgraded to Ready Five, over.”
Ingraham acknowledged.
Captain Bowie said, “Tell Firewalker to clear to the east until we get our VLAs off. Then prep us a couple of ASROCs, and let’s take this show to town.”
“TAO, aye.”
“USWE, aye.”
“Keep an eye out,” the captain said. “There are two more subs out there.”
As if in answer to his words, the speaker rumbled again. “SAU Commander, this is Firewalker Two-Six. New contact! Buoys nine and ten are hot. I hold narrowband tonals consistent with Type 212 diesel submarine. Initial classification: POSS-SUB, confidence level high! Looks like another one is trying to run the barrier, sir.”
The TAO answered immediately. “Firewalker Two-Six, this is SAU Commander. Your new contact designated Gremlin Zero Three, over.”
The chief keyed the net. “TAO—USWE. Recommend we target both Gremlins with ASROC, and assign Benfold to target both subs as a backup.”
The TAO looked at the captain. “Sounds like a good call to me, sir.”
The captain nodded.
“USWE—TAO. Good call. Target both Gremlins with VLAs and inform me as soon as you have a firing solution.”
“USWE, aye.”
Chief McPherson scanned the unfolding tactical picture on the CDRT. Towers, Benfold, Ingraham, and Firewalker Two-Six were shown in blue. The contacts designated Gremlins Zero Two and Zero Three appeared as red V-shaped hostile-submarine symbols. To the northwest, behind the formation, was the symbol for the motorboat that might or might not have launched the acoustic decoy. It was shown in white, for neutral. The boat appeared to be loitering harmlessly, but they couldn’t count on that. The chief clicked on the motorboat symbol and upgraded its status from neutral to potentially hostile. Its color changed to a lighter shade of red than the submarines. That done, she spoke into her mike. “UB—USWE. I need the status of your firing solutions on contacts Gremlin Zero Two and Gremlin Zero Three.”
“USWE—UB. Just a second, Chief. My processors are updating now.” There was a brief pause, and then, “USWE—UB. I hold an excellent firing solution on Gremlin Zero Two. I am just starting to get tracking data on the second submarine.”
Per the chief ’s recommendations and the captain’s orders, the TAO got on Navy Red and directed Benfold to target both submarines with ASROCs.
“USWE—UB. I hold excellent firing solutions on both contacts.”
“UB—USWE. Stand by. Break. TAO—USWE. Request batteries released.”
The TAO looked at the captain, who nodded. “USWE—TAO. You have batteries released.”
“USWE, aye. Break. UB—USWE. Kill Gremlin Zero Two and Gremlin Zero Three with Vertical Launch Anvils.”
“UB, aye. Going to launch standby on weapon one. Launch ordered. Weapon away—now, now, NOW!” On the third now, the entire ship shuddered as the first ASROC missile blasted its way out of the forward vertical launch system. “Anvil one is away, no apparent casualties. Going to launch standby on weapon two. Launch ordered. Weapon away—now, now, NOW!” The ship shuddered again as another ASROC missile rocketed out of its cell. “Anvil two is away, no apparent casualties.”
* * *
The second ASROC ha
dn’t even pitched over into its ballistic arc when the Officer of the Deck’s voice came over the net. “TAO—Bridge. Lookouts are reporting two bright flashes, bearing three-four-four. We’re getting confirmed infrared signatures from the mast-mounted sight cameras. Flight profiles consistent with small missiles.”
“TAO, aye.”
“TAO—Surface. Three-four-four is the bearing to that motorboat. Recommend we re-designate that contact as hostile.”
“TAO, aye. Break. All Stations—TAO, we have in-bound Vipers! I say again, we have missiles in-bound! Weapons Control, shift to Aegis ready-auto. Set CIWS to auto-engage. Break. EW, give me your best course for minimized radar cross-section. Stand by to launch chaff!”
The Electronics Warfare Technician responded a half-second later. “TAO—EW, standing by to launch chaff, but I don’t think it’ll do any good, sir. I’m showing negative active missile seekers at this time. These Vipers are possible heat seekers, or maybe they’re laser-guided.”
“EW—TAO. Understood. Stand by to launch torch rounds, just in case they’re heat seekers.”
“EW, aye.”
The TAO keyed the net again. “Air—TAO. Where are these missiles heading?”
* * *
Scorpion II (mid-flight):
The two missiles streaking through the night were beam-riders, German-built Scorpion II laser-guided anti-tank missiles. Both were targeted on Benfold, and they closed their target at just under three-quarters the speed of sound. They had been fired from well inside the minimum range of Benfold’s SM-2s, so the luckless destroyer would not have the option of launching her own missiles to intercept.
The target began launching chaff. A half-dozen blunt projectiles rocketed away from the ship. Four of them exploded at predetermined distances, spraying clouds of aluminum dust and metallic confetti into the air to create clusters of false radar targets. The remaining two projectiles were torch rounds: self-igniting magnesium flares designed to seduce heat-seeking infrared guided missiles.
The Scorpions blew past the expanding chaff clouds with zero hesitation. Aluminum dust could fool radar, but the Scorpion missiles had no radar. The missiles ignored the torch rounds for the same reason. With no infrared sensors, the Scorpions couldn’t even see the heat signatures from the flares, much less be distracted by them. In fact, the Scorpions couldn’t see anything but the narrow beams of their laser directors. Their seeker heads were amazingly simple, and—in this situation—that made them amazingly effective.
The target ship’s Close-In Weapon System opened fire. The six-barreled Gatling gun spewed a fusillade of 20mm tungsten bullets into the darkness, cutting the first of the incoming Scorpions into bite-sized chunks. The defensive Gatling gun spun to cover the other incoming missile, but it was too late. The second Scorpion had reached its target.
* * *
USS Benfold:
The missile slammed into the destroyer’s starboard bridge wing, passing through an inch-thick window before detonating. The expanding cloud of shrapnel and fire ripped through the pilot house like a tornado, killing everyone in the bridge crew except the Helmsman. Badly burned, deafened by the concussion, and blinded in one eye, the twenty-two-year-old deck seaman struggled to his feet and stood amongst the wreckage and the smoldering bodies of his shipmates.
Driven so far into shock that rational thought was an alien concept, the young Sailor became only dimly aware of the searing pain coming from the area of his left hand. Perhaps it’s still on fire, he thought, but even that idea felt detached and unimportant. He slowly raised the wounded arm so he could inspect it with the eye that still seemed to be working. But the hand wasn’t there. Someone had taken away his hand, and left in its place a bleeding stump. Splinters of bone protruded from the mangled wrist, and blood shot from the mass of torn flesh and cartilage in a pulsating jet that was fascinating to watch. The Helmsman sank to his knees, and then lay down on the scorched deck, surrounded by the bodies of the bridge crew. Just for a minute, he thought. I’ll just rest here for a minute, until my head clears. He closed his one good eye.
* * *
Out on the forecastle, Benfold’s 5-inch deck gun opened fire, hurling six shells at the enemy motorboat in rapid succession.
The little boat zigged and zagged with insane abandon as the sky began to rain exploding naval artillery shells. The boat was small, fast, and incredibly agile. Through some combination of skill and luck, it slipped unharmed through the barrage of steel and fire.
Benfold’s big gun began barking continuously, pumping out shell after shell, pausing only long enough between firing for the gun’s auto-loading system to raise the next shell and ram it into the barrel.
The ninth round caught the motorboat, blasting it into thousands of burning fragments no larger than a pack of cigarettes. The tenth and eleventh rounds were already in the air. Both landed and detonated in the same stretch of water that the motorboat had recently occupied. But the target was gone, and the exploding shells succeeded in killing only saltwater.
* * *
Anvil (USS Towers):
The nose cone of Towers’ first ASROC shattered on impact, and the Mark54 torpedo came to life and detached itself from its parachute.
Placement of the weapon was nearly textbook perfect. It acquired its target on the first pass and accelerated to attack speed before the submarine could even maneuver.
The water was shallow in the straits, and the shock wave of the explosion was magnified, sending a base surge of displaced water fountaining thirty feet into the air. Gremlin Zero Two was obliterated.
* * *
Anvil two didn’t meet with the same level of success. At the top of the weapon’s ballistic arc, the second VLA’s airframe jammed and didn’t separate properly. The torpedo couldn’t detach itself, and the entire missile assembly fell out of the sky well down range of its target. Falling ten thousand feet without a parachute, the faulty weapon disintegrated on impact with the water.
* * *
USS Towers:
The Sonar Supervisor’s voice came over the 29-MC: “All Stations—Sonar has multiple hydrophone effects off the starboard beam! Bearings two-six-zero and two-six-five. Initial classification: hostile torpedoes!”
Ensign Cooper stabbed at the mike button. “USWE, aye! Break! Bridge—USWE. Crack the whip! We have in-bound hostile torpedoes. I say again—crack the whip!”
“Bridge, aye!”
The whine of the gas turbines increased in pitch and volume as the engines wound up to maximum rpm.
The Officer of the Deck’s voice came over the 1-MC. “All hands stand by for heavy rolls while performing high-speed evasive maneuvers.”
The deck tilted sharply to port as the ship veered into the first evasive turn.
* * *
USS Benfold:
Captain Vargas punched the button that patched her comm-set into the 1MC. “This is the Captain speaking from CIC,” she said. “The bridge has been knocked out by a missile hit. I need a damage control team and medical personnel on the bridge now. CCS take rudder and engine controls. Engineering Officer of the Watch, establish communications with CIC on Net One Zero, and stand by for maneuvering orders. Get to it people! That is all.” She released the mike button.
The TAO’s console lost power. He was about to report the failure when the call came in.
“TAO—Weapons Control. Aegis is down hard!”
“What the hell happened?” the TAO snapped.
“We lost primary and alternate power to the computers, sir. Probably one of the automatic bus-tie transfers, since they’re about the only pieces of gear common to both primary and alternate legs of power. The Combat Systems Officer of the Watch says his people are checking prints and chasing cables now. As soon as they find the bad ABT, they can rig casualty power.”
“TAO, aye. What’s your estimated time of repair?”
“The CSOOW is calling for ten minutes, sir. They might be able to cut that in half, if they get lucky and
find the bad ABT quickly.”
“We don’t have ten minutes,” Captain Vargas said. She looked up at the darkened Aegis display screens. “We don’t even have five minutes.”
The TAO nodded. “I know that, ma’am.” He keyed his mike. “Weapons Control—TAO. With Aegis down, two-thirds of your consoles are dead. Send your unused operators down to assist the CSOOW’s crew on chasing cables. Let’s try to speed this up.”
“Weapons Control, aye.”
Captain Vargas looked at the TAO. “Go out to SAU Commander on Navy Red. Tell him we’ve taken a hit to the bridge, and we’ve lost Aegis. We will not be able to make the backup VLA shots he ordered.”
The TAO nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He punched in to the secure radio channel and started his report.
* * *
USS Ingraham:
Captain Culkins gritted his teeth as Benfold’s status report came over the speaker. “Well, ain’t this a pretty picture,” he said quietly.
Ingraham’s CIC was about half as well equipped as the ones on her more powerful sister ships. But her crew was well trained, and the gear they did have was good, even if it wasn’t quite state-of-the-art. She might not have the most impressive weapons and sensors in the Search Attack Unit, but at least her combat systems hadn’t crapped out in the middle of the battle.
Captain Culkins allowed himself a tiny, humorless smile. Okay, maybe that last bit had been a bit below the belt. Benfold had just taken a missile hit right in the face; some equipment was bound to be knocked off-line. It was just a hell of a time to lose Aegis, the heart of the destroyer’s combat system.
Culkins shook his head and keyed into Navy Red. “SAU Commander, this is Ingraham. Request permission to break formation and close Benfold’s position. We can provide missile defense coverage until Benfold gets her Aegis system back on line, over.”
“Ingraham, this is SAU Commander. Roger. You are cleared to break formation. Keep an ear in the water, though. Those subs are still out there.”
“You don’t hear that every day,” Ingraham’s Tactical Action Officer said. “A frigate providing missile coverage for a destroyer. My, my, how the mighty have fallen.”