“Very well, Pilot. Ahead one-third, make turns for five knots.” While the pilot repeated the order, Jerry faced Covey. “Weps, launch the Sea Tern. Then take the UAV station. XO, you can double up as weapons officer.”
“Aye, Captain,” answered both men simultaneously.
As soon as Covey hit the launch button, a slug of water forced the canister with the UAV out of the signal ejector. Floating to the surface, the canister’s end cap blew off as soon as the pressure sensor detected it was clear of the water. Milliseconds later, the micro-UAV was propelled out of the canister by a small charge. Once airborne, it climbed to five hundred feet and turned toward the Chinese warships. Based on the Switchblade micro-UAV, the Sea Tern was just over a foot long, with a small battery-powered motor that could get the tiny vehicle up to a maximum speed of seventy-five knots. But its best endurance was at half that speed. With its minuscule size and slow speed, the Sea Tern looked like a seabird to a modern radar. Thus, any reflected energy would be filtered out by the radar’s signal processor, essentially rendering the vehicle invisible while in plain sight. It wasn’t long before its electro-optical and infrared sensor data was relayed to North Dakota’s exposed mast.
“Skipper, the Sea Tern has acquired the Chinese ships,” Covey announced. “Sending the output to the starboard VLSD.”
Jerry and Thigpen looked at the large screen and saw the two warships in a line of bearing formation with the destroyer in the lead.
“Good call, Chief,” Jerry complimented his sonar supervisor. “We’ve got one Type 052B Luyang I destroyer and one Type 053H3 Jiangwei II frigate.”
Thigpen leaned forward, then pointed toward the screen. “Skipper, look at the Luyang on the IR display. See that black line streaming from her stern? You were right, she’s got a towed array!”
“Then she is our primary target. If we have to shoot,” Jerry replied calmly.
“Conn, ESM Bay,” squawked the intercom speaker. “I hold two surface-search radars from the warships, low signal strength, but no airborne radars.”
Jerry turned to Thigpen, perplexed. “They don’t have a helo up? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe they’ve got a mechanical glitch. The Chinese have been flying them pretty hard lately,” Thigpen suggested.
“Going after a potentially hostile submarine with just two surface ships and no helicopters? That’s not too bright. There has to be another explanation,” argued Jerry.
No sooner had Jerry said this, than Chief Halleck shouted, “Lamb Tail transmissions, bearing zero three seven, same bearing as Santa Fe!”
“I’m on it,” cried Covey as he instructed the UAV to turn toward that bearing. It didn’t take long before the large screen showed a Ka-28 Helix helicopter down low, hovering over the water, a dark line dropping from its fuselage.
“It’s dipping,” said Thigpen.
“And it’s got Santa Fe,” Jerry added. Suddenly, a small object dropped from the helo’s underside.
“What was that!?” barked Jerry. “Chief, what do you hear?”
“Nothing, sir. It just hit the water and sank…” Halleck stopped in mid-sentence, his face turning white. “Torpedo in the water! It’s pinging, but no propulsion noises!”
“Damn it!” groaned Jerry angrily. “It dropped an APR-2E rocket torpedo! Snapshot! Sierra-six three, tube one!”
The fire control technician at the weapon’s console began rapidly punching buttons. “Outer door on tube one open!” he cried. The sailor watched, his hands shaking, as the remaining indicators turned green. “Stand by… Shoot!”
Jerry felt the subtle vibrations from the ejection pump winding up; the torpedo was on its way. He’d just launched a weapon in anger.
“Normal launch, wire is good,” reported the petty officer.
Jerry could see the position of the torpedo on the port VLSD, sprinting off at high speed toward its target. “Very well,” he said.
“Captain, Santa Fe has deployed countermeasures. She’s turning,” reported Halleck.
“What about the APR-2, Chief?” asked Jerry anxiously.
“Still searching… No, wait, rocket motor ignition! It’s homing!”
Helpless, a mere spectator, Jerry issued a silent prayer while he waited with the rest of the people in control for the seemingly inevitable outcome.
“It missed!” shrieked Halleck. “The APR-2 missed her!”
“Praise be!” whispered Thigpen. But his relief was short-lived as Lymburn pointed to her display. He looked and immediately understood. Dejected, he said, “Skipper, Santa Fe has turned toward the Chinese warships!”
Jerry closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, Halsey had turned the wrong way. Jerry’s mind raced for anything that he could do to help the stricken U.S. boat. Looking up at the port VLSD, he saw his Mark 48 was six thousand five hundred yards away from its target; one thousand five hundred yards from the enable point when the seeker would activate. “XO, command enable own-ship’s unit.”
“Command enable, aye,” answered Thigpen. Followed shortly by, “Sir, weapon has enabled.”
Glancing over at Thigpen, Jerry nodded wearily. “Maybe I can scare them off,” he said quietly.
“Skipper!” yelped Covey. “Both ships have launched torpedoes!”
Jerry’s head snapped up toward the starboard display. He could see the remaining wisps of smoke drifting aft from the Chinese ships.
“Concur!” Halleck blurted out. “Torpedoes in the water! Bearing zero one five! Two Yu-7 torpedoes—damn! They do sound like Mark 46s!”
There was nothing left to do but watch, and wait. Like watching a fight in slow motion, Jerry stared at the screen as the three torpedoes crept toward their respective targets. His Mark 48 would reach the Luyang I destroyer first, but that would be of little help to Halsey and the crew of Santa Fe.
“Detect. Detect. Detect. Homing! Own ship’s unit has acquired the target,” shouted the fire control technician. “Target bears zero one six, range three thousand five hundred yards.”
Jerry acknowledged the report; his eyes remained fixated on the large display screen on his left.
“Santa Fe is deploying more countermeasures, Skipper,” reported Halleck. “Now she’s launched ATTs. Yu-7s have enabled, they’re searching.”
As the Mark 48’s icon merged with the one representing the Luyang I, Jerry turned toward the starboard VLSD. Suddenly a large white disk jumped up beneath the destroyer, as the explosive shock wave reflected off the sea surface. Two grayish pulses soon followed, the second one ripping its way through the destroyer’s hull and climbing high into the sky. Mortally wounded, the ship wallowed as her forward motion came to an abrupt stop. The Jiangwei II frigate peeled off hard to port, accelerating. Jerry could only imagine the fear they were feeling after seeing their larger brother blown in two. No one in control cheered.
Halleck didn’t bother reporting on the demise of Sierra-six three; his mind was on Santa Fe. His tense shoulders leapt forward quickly, his eyes and ears straining to pull information from the acoustic sensors. “Skipper! One of the ATTs hit!” he shouted excitedly.
“Yesss!” hissed Thigpen. An anti-torpedo torpedo had just taken out one of the Yu-7s. Just one more weapon to evade, but it was not meant to be.
Halleck’s face suddenly scrunched up, contorted with grief. His report was superfluous. “Loud explosion bearing zero three one. I… I hear breaking-up noises. Loss of propulsion plant tonals…”
Jerry reached over and gently squeezed the sonar supervisor’s shoulder. “Enough, Chief,” he added quietly. A depressing silence descended on the control room. Many of the men had tears welling, two of the young women were openly weeping. Thigpen fought to retain control. “What about the frigate?” the XO asked, his voice shaky.
Jerry shook his head. “Let it go. Sinking it won’t bring Halsey and his crew back. Set course for Guam.”
9 September 2016
0100 Local Time
White House Situation Room
Washington, D.C.
“The second wave of missiles did the real damage.” The air force colonel was running through the slides a little too quickly. It was hard to see details in the photos, but the colonel’s point was still well made. “With the alliance nations still putting out fires from the first ballistic missile strike early this morning local time, China followed up with a second salvo around noon that concentrated entirely on economic and political targets. And they used twice as many missiles,” the briefer explained.
The colonel pressed his controller, and a map of Tokyo replaced ground-level photos of what had been the Tokyo Stock Exchange. “Second Artillery launched seventy-two DF-21s at Japan, and as far as we can tell, every one was aimed at something in Tokyo. They used supporting air- and submarine-launched cruise missile attacks again, designed to disrupt the Japanese air defenses, but with less success. The Japanese were ready for them this time.”
The colonel’s dress blues had the customary “fruit salad” on the left, showing long and distinguished service. The name tag on the right side of his uniform blouse read CHAMBERS. He was not wearing pilot’s wings, however. Instead, on the left, under the rows of decorations, was a stylized silver rocket, surrounded by a wreath, with a star on top. The Master Missile Operations badge was awarded to officers with at least nine years’ experience in operational ballistic missile units. This was a new kind of war, with different skills required.