Show of Force

by Charles D. Taylor

  O'Bannon wasn't as fortunate. The missile that pierced the helicopter flight deck, a bit forward of her deck gun, continued down into the engineering spaces before exploding. Two of her powerful gas turbine engines were disabled by the blast, and she lost steering control. Flying metal also damaged her main electrical board, and power was lost throughout the ship. Both of the men assigned to correct such a loss were killed at the same time. To an observer, there was no smoke and little apparent damage, but O'Bannon was crippled.

  Turner Joy had been retained by the Admiral because of her guns. He had anticipated that her three five-inch guns might come in handy at the right time. And the Admiral had an affection for this old ship that went back more than twenty years. Howard Bivins, her gunnery officer, was a mustang, enlisted for many years before he became a commissioned officer. He had been a seaman aboard the Turner Joy the night she had been attacked in the Gulf of Tonkin. The gunnery officer at the time was Lieutenant David Charles. Bivins had later served with Lieutenant Charles on the PBR's on the Mekong. When Bivins had been encouraged to apply for OCS, it was his old exec whom he had called in the middle of the night for advice. Commander Charles had written the recommendation that sent him to Newport, and it was Admiral Charles who had sent him the first letter of congratulations when he heard Lieutenant Bivins had received orders as gunnery officer on Turner Joy. Just as fast as her newer sister ships, but much smaller, and without the sophisticated weapons systems, Turner Joy was really not worth the two torpedoes that sank her. The first exploded in her hull well below the forward mount, setting off the magazine, which in turn accounted for most of her bow. Lieutenant Bivins had just been adjusting his helmet while talking with the captain, when the wall of fire from the magazine wiped out every individual in the bridge area. Neither man knew that the ship they both loved was already lost. The second torpedo, set for an even deeper run, went off in one of her fuel tanks. Very little remained between her stacks after the ensuing explosion, and the fires could not possibly be controlled. Oldendorf moved in as quickly and as closely as was safe and lowered her boats to recover those in Turner Joy's crew who were able to escape the flames.

  Nimitz had also been launching aircraft at the time of the submarine attack, and her helos were vectored toward the underwater contacts that the forward ships found all around them. One of the pilots watched fascinated as he saw missiles breaking water in two locations. Helpless, he watched their flight paths approach two of the forward ships. The first descended between the stacks of Mahan, but there was no explosion. Later that day he ferried two weapons demolition experts back to Mahan to defuse the warhead nestled in the after officer's head.

  As he gave orders to his crew chief to release the sonobuoys along a line his copilot had devised, he watched the cruiser Gridley's close-in weapon system bring down a missile bearing down on her with a shower of rapid fire 20-mm. shells. Gridley then swung to starboard and raced directly down a torpedo wake. The fish passed down Gridley's port beam at approximately the same time the pilot heard the positive contact report on the attacking submarine.

  Almost mechanically he swung the helo toward the drop point, still in awe of Gridley's luck in surviving both a missile and a torpedo attack. His copilot's arm, in the air with fists clenched until they reached the right spot, dropped. The pilot released the homing torpedo, feeling his craft lurch up and sideways from the sudden loss of weight. They were close to the water and went into a hover at two hundred feet, hoping for evidence of a hit. It was not long in coming. The high-speed torpedo had found a slower conventional sub, likely the one that had fired the fish at Gridley. The sonobuoys recorded the explosion, probably at a depth of 250 feet or more. It took longer than they had expected for the oily, roiling waters to begin bubbling to the surface, discharging those remains that had not followed the sub to the bottom. The pilot swung his craft back toward Gridley, hovering near her bridge for just a moment, exchanging the thumbs-up signal of victory with her captain.

  The frigate Barbey had been well to the north of the other ships, positioned there for early warning and a first line of defense with her Harpoon missiles if Soviet ships attempted to swing north. One well-placed torpedo was all that was required to immobilize her. It hit aft below her helo flight deck. The attacking submarine then .moved in slowly like a cat to position itself for a second shot that would sink Barbey. The torpedo was fired, and it did break Barbey's back, but the Soviet captain's mistake was to take too much time in preparing a perfect solution for his second torpedo. Meyercord, five miles astern of Barbey, had launched her LAMPS helo at the first indication of submarine attack. When the pilot sighted the first explosion in Barbey's hull, he had flown directly north of the damaged ship. The sonar contact that Meyercord located and fed to her pilot was confirmed by his MAD detector, and his Mk-46 homing torpedo hit the water less than five-hundred yards from the Russian craft.

  The Russian attack from the flanks had been moderately successful, considering that the Soviet subs had to fire from a much shorter range. The fact that Admiral Charles assumed his counterpart might plan the same type of attack provided enough warning to prevent more damage than occurred. The forward element was now scouring the ocean for the remaining attackers with both LAMPS and Nimitz helos.

  What they had not anticipated was the Soviet attack submarine Frunze surfacing in the middle of the screen between the cruiser Belknap and the guided-missile destroyer Joseph Strauss. Both ships had been tracked for long enough to plan an effective attack. The captain of Frunze had decided to fire his forward torpedoes point blank at Belknap, since he would be only five-hundred yards off her beam. No console solution would be required. The after bank of tubes had two torpedoes reserved for Joseph Strauss. Frunze maintained absolute silence, hovering below a temperature layer that protected her from the searching sonar of her quarry. When he knew the two ships were close enough so that the sound of water escaping his tanks would cause confusion rather than evasion, he drifted up to one-hundred feet, firing first at the larger cruiser, then at the destroyer.

  The first indication of a submarine in their midst was Belknap's sonar. The operator couldn't believe the sudden strong return from the object off his starboard bow. He was alert enough to punch the contact alarm, but waited for three successive echoes before classifying it as a submarine.

  It was too late. Frunze shuddered as it fired first two torpedoes from its forward tubes, and then two more from the stern. The running time to Belknap was insignificant. The two explosions, one following the other by only seconds, shook the already diving submarine as it maneuvered under the roiling waters around Belknap. The cruiser was aflame aft and fore. Fires astern quickly found the magazines below the after gun mount. The water invading the forward engineering space brought on a rapid list. Damage-control parties were too late to keep the rushing water from buckling weakened bulkheads. The ocean advanced too rapidly. She was sinking.

  On Joseph Strauss, the damage-control party was checking watertight fittings in the forward section when they heard the sharp explosions roll across the sea. They turned in unison to stare, horrified by the water spout from the first torpedo, already higher than Belknap's bridge. Some of the men may even have seen the spout emerge from the second one. Openmouthed, they watched in silence as the flames followed, billowing clouds of Hack smoke and flame engulfing the cruiser. There were a few muttered comments about the chances of the crew of the other ship, then more about how lucky they were to be on the right ship. They were moving aft when Joseph Strauss took the first torpedo slightly forward of midships. Her commanding officer had been on the same side of the ship, his binoculars on Belknap. He had briefly noted his DC party on the main deck just before his own ship had been hit and he had been thrown backwards. When he got up from the deck after the blast, his first thought was to look over the side to see what had happened to those men. He saw only a hole in the deck where he assumed they had been. As the spray settled, he saw two motionless forms near the to
rn metal of the deck. None of the others seemed to exist.

  The torpedo hit was shallow, causing more damage above the waterline than below. The second torpedo for some reason veered away from the ship as the first detonated, running its fuel out and sinking. The ship was able to drop back, and her damage-control parties found they could minimize the amount of water entering the boiler room. Welders from one of the larger ships joined them to prepare a patch that would suffice until they could get back to port.

  Unfortunately for Frunze, water conditions improved for sonar ranging. The noise of the sinking Belknap protected the submarine for only so long. Both Forrest Sherman and Ramsey located the evading submarine and tracked her long enough to provide solutions for their ASROC torpedoes. Both weapons were fired at approximately the same time, and both torpedoes, though traveling independently, found Frunze changing course frantically at her best possible speed. It made no difference to her crew that the explosion of one torpedo as it pierced her hull probably caused the other to go off also. The combined detonation of both torpedoes was sufficient to shatter the brave little submarine.

  The element of surprise had worked. Old-fashioned wolfpack tactics had been successful beyond expectations. Both forces had suffered heavy losses again, yet they steamed directly toward each other. Neither knew exactly what was expected of them, nor did they know if they would ever regain secure communications. They both knew that high-altitude intelligence planes or spy satellites had likely photographed the actions of the last forty-eight hours, but they had no way of learning whether they were strengthening the bargaining powers of their leaders. Eventually, one side would have to establish voice contact, knowing the other would be hanging on every word.

  For some unknown reason, the air strikes- that had been launched as the submarine attacks commenced did not come in contact with each other. The American planes had gone to the south, planning a sweep north at the last minute. The Russians had planned exactly the opposite. But this time they came in at surface level, hoping their Rigas wouldn't be picked up on radar until they were on top of Task Force 58.

  David Charles was seated at his general quarters station, watching the status boards, waiting for the attack they knew was imminent. Texas was the first ship to give the warning.

  “Local control,” David ordered, releasing computer control to the Aegis-equipped ships at each point. The cruisers Texas, South Carolina, California, and Arkansas each had three guided-missile destroyers under their control. “Designate Sectors Red and Green to South Carolina and Arkansas. I want California to serve as backup.” He called to one of Bill Dailey's assistants, “You.'re sure there are no other aircraft outside those sectors?”

  “Correct, sir. They're coming in low, trying to avoid radar contact. We got them at about sixty miles.”

  “Thank you. Have Texas tie into California with her ships for anything coming through toward Nimitz.” He casually referred to the giant carrier as if he were on another ship. His flag controlled all ships, yet had to function as if it rode none. The captain of Nimitz was ultimately responsible for his carrier, not the Admiral, who was merely hitching a ride.

  The Rigas kept their low altitude, confusing fire-control radars as long as they could. Antimissile solutions were difficult with the radar screens cluttered with surface return, unable to pinpoint the attackers. “They're not going after the perimeter ships,” said Bill Dailey.

  “They're going to try to get through to the cripples and the carrier,” answered David Charles. “Bill, have the inner screen put their guns on local control. They don't need solutions to fee.”

  “Yes, sir. You don't think there's any danger of hitting some of our own ships with gunfire?”

  “No more than with missile fire. The Rigas have to slow down to pick out the cripples and climb a bit to fire their own missiles. Our guns aren't going to be any more dangerous than the Rigas are to our own ships.”

  Truxton was the first to be hit. They picked her out easily, her bridge gone, no guns to fire in her own defense, fires still burning forward. There was little opportunity for her to bring her stern launchers to bear. Two missile hits left her burning fiercely and dead in the water. It was even worse for O'Bannon, her men working desperately to regain electrical power. Her remaining turbines gave her enough forward motion, and she was being steered by hand, but there was no power available to her mount or launchers. She, too, was helpless against the aircraft that got through. O'Bannon disappeared in less than five minutes, leaving no trace of an eight-thousand-ton destroyer, and few survivors.

  While the open formations allowed the ships enough room, in case one received a nuclear attack, they also invited single-ship attack by the aircraft. The Rigas were excellent planes, highly maneuverable and reasonably able to avoid missiles in a crowd. But coming in low they were able to pick out only one target, fire, and get away as quickly as possible. They had learned in only one day not to cluster together, inviting the Americans to a turkey shoot. This caution limited their firepower. Longer range and speed forced the designers of this VTOL jet to limit the weapon load. So they were able to make only their one run and then head for the barn.

  The only other ship to be hit was the frigate Robert E. Peary. The smaller ship exploded moments after taking a missile near the after magazine. The explosion and fires left few survivors, and only those in the forward section escaped serious burns. Four Rigas were brought down, but only one of them got near the sector guarded by Texas as a backup. The new strategy saved Rigas for a later attack, but caused little damage. Nimitz was still unscathed.

  The American planes also found a better organized defense when they came upon the Russian force. Sensing that the attack would come from the south, Alex Kupinsky had weighted his air defense ships in that direction, reserving enough defense for his carrier as David Charles had done. The Americans coordinated a two-pronged attack, similar to their first one, holding back some of their power to confuse the defenders.

  The cruiser Grozny was still burning furiously in the rear of the formation when the two Intruders dropped out of the sky to finish the job the submarines had started. The attack on the cripple brought a hail of missiles as the two planes then turned toward Lenin. Neither was able to release the remainder of their pay load before they were brought down.

  Svedrov coolly assigned sectors as his American counterparts had done, and then ensured that each AA ship received local control only after it was given a target. The American pilots found they were under attack on an individual basis, and they had no choice but to evade missiles rather than finish their initial attacks. Only one Intruder was successful in completing its first run, placing one of its missiles in the hull of a Kashin-class destroyer, Slavny, and leaving it sinking. The second flight fared better, deciding to come in low to take advantage of slow Soviet rearming and the confusion caused by confirmed tracking of some of the escaping first flight. When their cockpit alarms remained silent, indicating to the pilots that no fire-control radar had yet locked onto them, they became bolder, closing the ships for ease of attack.

  The cruiser Admiral Nakhimov, on one of the points, had been designated by Kupinsky to fire chaff rockets with minimum charges. This created a variety of targets, making it difficult for missiles to lock on the ships. The outer perimeter of Kupinsky's ships then fired both guns and missiles at this second flight, under the coordination of Svedrov's individual assignment plan. He gave the targets one by one to his ships, and they, in turn, were able to fire missiles that locked immediately on their targets. Again, the attacking planes were forced to evade, only one getting through to hit another destroyer. This time four of the Corsairs were brought down.

  To Kupinsky's delight, his ships had survived what could have been a devastating air attack, after the heavy damage inflicted by the submarines. “You were correct in your assumptions, Captain Svedrov. We have only one sunk and one badly damaged ship as a result of the American airplanes.” And, as an afterthought, he said, “I do
ubt Grozny would have made it anyway.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Svedrov changed the subject quickly. “But we have already lost a great deal today. Do you plan to maintain this course to intercept the Americans?”

  “We have little choice. Our orders are to keep them from completing the installations on that island, and David Charles has placed his Task Force 58 between us and Islas Piedras.”

  The younger man leaned forward, his elbows on the table in front of him, massaging his closed eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “We will be there in a few hours.” He stood up, looking very tired. “Let me go to the bridge and check with the navigator. We will want to reposition some of the ships forward.”

  “Just a minute, Svedrov.” Alex gestured him toward the chair he had just left. “Sit down, please. You are still bothered by something, I am sure.” The room was almost cleared out, leaving them to talk privately. Svedrov sat. “This is the time I need you most. I trust your judgment a great deal, and I cannot do all this myself. Tell me what is troubling you.”