Attack Of The Seawolf

by Michael Dimercurio

  At 1851 the first decoy’s acoustic emissions alerted the surface force at the channel midpoint that the intruder submarine was inbound. From that moment on, Pacino had no more time to think about the Tampa or even about Sean Murphy.

  bohai haixia strait USS tampa

  Lieutenant Bartholomay looked up from the chart table in the control room, hoping to see in Lieutenant Commander Vaughn’s face that what showed on the chart was not real.

  “Eng, what are you doing here?” Bart asked, his finger pointing to the chart.

  “I’m driving down the channel,” Vaughn said, leaning on the periscope pole.

  “But you’re driving straight for the surface ships.

  Can’t they detect you? Won’t they depth-charge us or something?”

  “Come and look at this.”

  Bart joined Vaughn in front of the Pos One console.

  Set into the overhead was the sonar display console, the broadband waterfall display selected off the sonar spherical array in the nose cone

  “See the waterfall? Those vertical streaks falling down the screen are noises, each noise a contact, and their horizontal positions on the display are their true bearings from us. The vertical position is time, the new at the top, the old at the bottom, the new replacing the old. The old falls off the screen, giving it the name waterfall. How many vertical streaks do you see?”

  Bart counted: “Twelve. No, thirteen with this dark trace at one hundred degrees.”

  “The one zero zero trace is the surface force directly ahead. The other twelve traces are twelve Tampas.”

  “Say what?”

  “Every one of those noises is a 688-class submarine.

  At least so it will appear to the Chinese. Those are Mark 38 decoys. They are torpedo-sized, with large fuel tanks and a computer brain that steers them on a programmed course. In the nose cone of the unit is a sonar transducer that emits noises sounding exactly like this submarine. To the surface ships, it will look like there are thirteen subs coming.”

  “So?” Bart said.

  “So they shoot a dozen more depth-charge things than normal, and kill us a few seconds later. Is this the great plan you and Lennox have been hatching?”

  “Only part of it.”

  Vaughn pressed a sequence of touch keys on the lower face of the monitor panel, dividing the waterfall display into two waterfalls.

  “The upper screen shows the last thirty minutes of history instead of just the last thirty seconds. The dark traces are the Mark 38 decoys. Look here at these lighter traces, the ones that sloped flat about fifteen minutes ago.” Eleven new traces were visible, each vertical at the bottom, sloping flat in the middle and vertical again at the top of the display.

  “Those are torpedoes. They came out of our baffles and passed us here, where the traces are horizontal, then drove on ahead of us. They are now catching up to the decoys. In another twenty minutes or so the

  first wave of decoys will swim into the task force zone. The Chinese will detect them—I hope—and get confused, since there are apparently several submarines.

  Then the volley of torpedoes will reach them, and after that, we and those closer decoys will reach the task force. By that time the Chinese should be sinking.”

  “Won’t you be shooting at the surface ships?”

  “Can’t. None of the torpedoes are working. We thought we had some healthy units but they all failed their self-checks. Two tubes work, but without an intact torpedo there’s no chance. We’ve got vertical launch tubes for cruise missiles, but without the firecontrol computer they’re just useless scrap metal.”

  “So what happens after the Seawolfruns out of torpedoes?

  Will we be out of hot water?”

  Vaughn pushed the function keys on the sonar monitor, returning the original waterfall display, and turned to Bartholomay.

  “Who the hell knows? Look, Bart, either we get out of the bay or we don’t.”

  “I just don’t like being along for the ride. On an OP at least I have a finger on the trigger. Here, all I can do is wait inside this sewer pipe for you to drive us out.”

  Lube Oil Vaughn looked at the SEAL, his face a mask of confidence, his stomach a nest of butterflies, his hands in his pockets to prevent anyone seeing them shake. He was one of only -two officers who could get the ship out, and if he didn’t look steady it would be that much harder to keep the men’s trust.

  But the truth was, Vaughn was just as much a passenger as Black Bart.

  At 1845 Kurt Lennox came into the control room, his black-rimmed, bloodshot eyes giving away the fact that he had been unable to sleep for days. Each minute stretched into hours, each hour a month. Lennox, Vaughn and Bartholomay stood over the chart table as if gathered around a campfire on a cold night.

  “How much longer to international waters?” Lennox asked.

  Vaughn walked his dividers across the chart, measured the distance, then grabbed a time-motion slide rule and spun the inner circle twice.

  “About ninety minutes,” he said, “assuming we speed up to full when we hit the task force at the channel midpoint.”

  “Goddamned long time,” Bart said.

  “It’s a big goddamned channel,” Vaughn said, looking at the chronometer, wishing they had just one lousy torpedo.

  P.L.A navy destroyer jinan

  Weapons Department Leader Chen Yun held up the binoculars and looked out the bridge windows at the water to the west. The wind blew the rain against the windshield, the sound like a sandblast rig from the shipyard. Outside the windows, the bay water was black, the sky turning dark brown as the light faded.

  The water of the bay was choppy, the whitecaps phosphorescent in the dim light. The ship was on course north, two kilometers astern of a Jianghu frigate, which was two kilometers astern of another frigate.

  Chen walked to the surface search radar display and put his face down to the hooded display, the rubber of the hood cold on his forehead. The circular scope was green, the rotating beam lighting up the land around them. The point of Lushun was sharp and clear to the north. The hump of Penglai was more distant, its shoreline fuzzy in the rain. Close to the center of the circle, a group of islands lit up and slowly faded with each rotation of the radar beam. Chen adjusted a range-display knob, setting the radius of the display circle to eight kilometers. The points of land vanished, the scope taken up with twelve dots arranged in an oblong rectangle, the center of the display on the east elongated edge of the rectangle. The dots were the twelve other ships of the task force, all steaming one behind another along an

  eleven-kilometer by two kilometer racetrack, pacing back and forth over the deep channel through the Bohai Haixia.

  Chen didn’t like it. A Udaloy-class destroyer was not meant to march back and forth in formation as if on a parade ground; it was built to prowl the open seas in search of submarines, and when they were detected, to kill them. The ship should have been steaming independently, in a forward deployment, searching over open water for the submarines. To bottle them up here at a choke-point was stupid. Certainly that was fine for the frigates, but to put a sub-hunting Udaloy here made no sense. Even if they detected the subs now, the Udaloy would have a tough time getting to them in the restricted waters of the channel.

  The water to the west, from the direction of enemy approach, was a free-fire zone for their SS-N-14 Silex missiles. That at least had been done right. The most lethal weapon in the task force was the SS-N-14, a rocket-launched depth charge. Usually one per customer would be enough to kill any sub. But if they needed to launch torpedoes down a west bearing line, they could not do it from the eastern branch of the pace pattern because they could acquire on the ships of their task force to the west, the ones pacing south.

  And they were prohibited from shooting in the east direction because the aircraft carrier Shaoguan was patrolling the end of the channel to the east, and it would not do to hit the carrier with a volley of Type 53 torpedoes.

  It made no sense, con
fining a deadly Udaloy to this battle tactic, but then, who was he to say? Chen was still in his late twenties, barely out of the Second Surface Vessel Academy at Canton. He could not hope to match the tactical minds of the fleet commanders and task force commanders or of Ship Commander Yang Pei Ping, the Jinan’s captain. They must have agreed to this force deployment. Still, the tactics course at the academy had always insisted that fast ASW destroyers like the Udaloy operate in open water, leaving choke-point entrapments to

  lesser ships like the Jianghu frigates. And what about the fleet deployments to the south? The fleet commander had stationed most of the fleet at the entrance and exit of the southern passage, the Miaodao Strait, expecting the subs to try to leave through the narrow channel.

  Chen didn’t see it. If he were a submarine commander trying to make his way out he’d keep to the wider channel. But perhaps the fleet commander had satellite surveillance or some reason to believe that the subs would come out via Miaodao.

  Chen swallowed his frustration. His life since adolescence had led up to this moment, and not only was his ship put in the secondary task force, a halfhearted contingency force, but they were doing the job of a PT boat. He walked to the port bridge wing and searched the bay to the west with his binoculars.

  “BRIDGE, COMBAT CONTROL,” a speaker blared out from the overhead, its rasping volume startling Chen, who put his binoculars down and concentrated on the announcement.

  “WE HAVE

  BROADBAND SONAR CONTACT ON MULTIPLE

  SUBMERGED HOSTILE TARGETS TO THE

  WEST.”

  Chen felt the rush of excitement spinning him to an accelerated speed. With one hand he grabbed the microphone of the ship’s announcing system: “GENERAL

  QUARTERS, CAPTAIN TO THE BRIDGE.”

  With his other hand he grabbed the handset of the tactical net radio and clicked the button for transmitting, tried to make his voice slow and distinct.

  “Task force flag, this is destroyer Jinan reporting initial detection of multiple submerged hostile contacts, bearing west, supplemental report to follow, over.”

  “JINAN, THIS IS TASK FORCE FLAG, ACKNOWLEDGING

  INITIAL DETECTION, OUT,”

  the tactical net’s speaker crackled.

  Commander Yang Pei Ping hurried into the bridge, his face set in a mask of concentration.

  “I’ve been in combat control, Chen,” he said.

  “They are tracking twelve contacts. A dozen submarines!”

  “No. That’s impossible,” Chen said.

  “Is it a trick?”

  “Perhaps the Americans sent a fleet of submarines to rescue their ship. From the destruction at Xingang it is beginning to make sense. Are general quarters manned?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good. Arm the SS-N-14 Silexes and the Type 53s.

  Prepare for a Silex launch of the entire battery to the west.”

  “Yes, Commander, but the range to the targets is unknown. We can’t throw away missiles without a firecontrol range. Perhaps the Commander would consider using the active sonar to locate the mean range.”

  “No,” Yang said, dismissing the younger man.

  “Passive sonar only. Orders of the fleet commander. He does not want to fill the channels with active echo ranging signals that might impede our longer range detection of threats. The more we transmit, the more noise in the water and the less we’ll hear.”

  “Sir, I don’t mean to doubt the fleet commander, but an active sonar transmission will determine beyond a doubt if any of these hostile contacts are … decoys.”

  “There are no such things as decoys, Chen. These are submarines.”

  “We’d get a range to the ships much quicker going active, sir. The subs could be driving up close any moment. We need to release weapons, at least fire torpedoes to the west.”

  “Chen, the tactics are being evaluated in combat control. Your function is to help me drive the ship, not comment on strategy. We’ll continue our target motion analysis by turning around when we have the first leg bearing rates. The task force will maneuver in a moment.” Yang took up the intercom mike.

  “Combat control, do you have a steady bearing rate?”

  “BRIDGE, COMBAT, YES.”

  “Task force flag, this is destroyer Jinan reporting first leg complete and ready for maneuver, over,” Yang reported on the tactical net, which replied immediately:

  “TASK FORCE NORTH, THIS IS TASK FORCE

  FLAG, STANDBY FOR IMMEDIATE EXECUTE,

  BREAK, TURN STARBOARD ONE EIGHT

  ZERO RELATIVE, BREAK … STANDBY … EXECUTE:’

  “Right full rudder, both engines ahead full speed,” Yang ordered.

  The ship responded, the deck vibrating and tilting as the rudder and gas-turbine engines brought her one hundred and eighty degrees around to the south. At the same time every ship in the task force turned a half-circle, reversing course, the ships now driving their racetrack clockwise instead of counterclockwise, the better to get a parallax range to the incoming submarines.

  Two minutes later it was apparent that the contacts were extremely close. Much too close. Inside the minimum range of the Silex missiles, Chen thought bitterly, resenting the mindless rigidity of his senior officers. If they had gone active, the Silex missiles would have blown up the submarines three minutes ago.

  The task force had lost their opportunity. It was now, he felt, too late to shoot. Once the submarines came between the surface ships and the aircraft carrier they would have to use the fleet’s helicopters to kill the subs—the firing of torpedoes going east toward the aircraft carrier and the fleet commander had been prohibited.

  P.L.A navy aircraft carrier shaoguan

  Fleet Commander Chu Hsueh-Fan put the handset of the tactical net back in its cradle and looked at Tien Tse-Min, who was leaning over the chart table and scratching his chin.

  “Leader Tien, we have detected twelve submerged contacts in the Bohai Haixia Strait. They are heading east and approaching the north task force. The task force will be releasing weapons in the next few moments.”

  Chu bit back a smile now that the notion that the submarines would depart via the south passage was obviously disproved. There would be no more interference from Tien—they could get on with the business of destroying the submarines.

  “No. Your north task force shall not release weapons.

  The submarines will be coming through the south channel at any moment.”

  Chu could not believe what he was hearing.

  Tien grabbed the tactical net handset and called the southwest task force commander.

  “Southwest task force flag, this is Tien. Is there any sign of a detection, over?”

  “LEADER TIEN, THIS IS SOUTHWEST TASK

  FORCE FLAG, STANDBY, OVER.”

  “Leader Tien, I do not understand.”

  “Chu, if you were a commander of a sub you would understand. The Americans are launching decoys at us to confuse us. They will wait until all our weapons are depleted and then they will sail through the bay making fools of us.”

  “Sir, decoys or not, no one has decoys that can make a sound like a submarine. There are units that can make noise, even generate a screen of bubbles to fool torpedoes, but these contacts are a flotilla of submarines. Can you expect me to let these contacts go without shooting them?”

  “Commander Chu,” Tien said, “any noise, any weapons, any active sonar, any activity of our forces in the northern passage will make the Americans believe that they have confused us. I am telling you, they are coming out through the Miaodao Strait.”

  “LEADER TIEN, THIS IS SOUTHWEST TASK

  FORCE FLAG, OVER.”

  “Go ahead. Flag.”

  “WE HAVE DETECTED TWO SUBMERGED

  CONTACTS CLOSING THE ENTRANCE TO THE

  MIAODAO CHANNEL AT APPROXIMATELY

  TWENTY-FIVE CLICKS. CONFIDENCE IS HIGH

  THAT THESE ARE THE AMERICANS. REQUEST

  IMMEDIATE WEAPO
NS RELEASE,

  OVER.”

  Tien smiled.

  “I told you the Bohai Haixia detections were a feint. A smokescreen to draw our attention to the north.”

  “Sir, if you won’t allow a weapon release for the north task force, we at least need to verify these contacts in the Bohai Haixia with our helicopters, the units with magnetic anomaly detection.”

  “Mag detection won’t work in a shallow channel,” Tien said.

  Chu raged beneath his forced calm. Leader Tien Tse-Min knew just enough about naval matters to be dangerous, but certainly not enough to sink a PT boat, much less a flotilla of motivated and lethal American submarines. The first crack formed in Chu’s professional front.

  “Leader Tien, listen with your ears and launch the helicopters.”

  For a moment Tien just stared at Chu. After a moment he raised his eyebrows and smiled indulgently.

  “Very well. Fleet Commander. I suppose it would not hurt to do some overflights.”

  Chu gave an order into the phone. Down the flight deck below, the jet turbines of twelve Harbin Z-9A helicopters began to spool up, reaching full power a few moments later, the main rotors of the big machines beginning to spin, beating the rainy air of the storm-darkened dusk.

  P.L.A navy destroyer jinan

  At 1854, the first of the contacts drove under the task force, the submarines inside minimum weapons range.

  The other submarines likewise were too close to shoot, and one by one they transited under the channel

  where the task force sailed. Jinan, like the other vessels, allowed the ships to go, knowing that once the subs were outside one kilometer they could shoot SSN-14 Silex missiles at the ships, as long as the Shaoguan gave permission.