USS Stonewall Jackson BoxSet

by Stephen Makk

  “Sonar. Fish is turning in. Range two point six miles.”

  “Weaps, ASROC launched, the bird is flying.”

  “Comms, let COMSEVENTHFLT Yokosuka know we are under attack. Suspected Sang-O class boat.”

  “Sir.”

  The type 53 raced in ever closer.

  “Sonar, the fish has gone active, it’s pinging.” The type 53 possessed a phased array active sonar for terminal guidance.

  “Second fish in the water. Catalogue Russian, type 53. Range, four point eight miles.” The guidance wire had been cut so the operator was now able to control the second fish.

  “Range point five miles.”

  “Come to eight five degrees, face the fish.” Benfield turned to starboard to present the smallest area to the incoming torpedo.

  “Launch countermeasures, port side. Three, two, one. Now.” Cylindrical canisters flew from tubes high and low.

  THE TORPEDO DETONATED six feet to the port side of USS Benfield’s hull; the countermeasures had partially done their job. The hull ripped open fifteen feet astern of the bow. Seawater flooded in, and watertight doors protected all compartments to the rear, but the ship’s forward motion quickly flooded the compartment.

  “Damage control to bulkhead one, check for flooding,” ordered the Master Chief.

  “Sonar. Fish one point three miles, running in port side.

  “Ready countermeasures. Load tubes. Ripple effect, high to low,” ordered Harding. He knew the situation was now desperate.

  “Sonar, the fish has gone active, it’s pinging. Range point six miles.”

  “Come to two seven zero, face the fish.” Benfield turned to the west, but slower this time due to the weight of water in the bow.

  “Launch countermeasures, port side. Three, two, one. Now.” The type 53 was diverted by the countermeasures, but not far enough, and it struck towards the stern. The destroyer lifted in the water and then settled back down; the turbines had been crippled and fires raged in the engine room and adjacent rear compartment. Damage control fought a battle with the fires, but it was a losing battle.

  “ASW Officer. Ready ASROC. Lay in a solution.”

  “Sir.”

  Within ten minutes Harding had to bow to the inevitable. “XO, we’re losing her. Prepare to abandon ship.”

  Comms, inform COMSEVENTHFLT Yokosuka that we are abandoning ship. Transmit our position to and copy the message to CNFK. Commander Fleet Activities Chinhae, Busan. South Korea.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Principal ASW Sir. ASROC released and is on parachute for descent.”

  “Copy.” Captain Harding knew it was too late to save his own vessel. But it was now time.

  “As ye sow, so shall ye reap. Go to hell, you bastards.”

  THE ASROC LAUNCHED Mk 46 torpedo located its target and ran in at 46mph, with 97lbs of PBXN-103 high explosive striking the middle rear of the Sang-O boat. The hull burst in with unreasonable force and a large section flooded.

  With total DC main electrical conduit failure, the boat was plunged into darkness. Commander Jeong ordered a manual emergency blow. The crew had to feel for the valves in the blackness. Badabaem rose slowly towards the surface, the hatch was quickly cracked open and men pulled out inflatable life rafts.

  Seven crew survived, four were killed in the explosion and four terrified men remained trapped and doomed in the engine room.

  NATHAN EMERGED FROM his cabin, he’d slept some but had woken early and been wrestling with twin dilemmas. One he could plan for, the other was a little more delicate. He’d have to keep his cards close to his chest.

  Damn it.

  He walked into the control room. “Exec, Kaminski, wardroom.”

  “The XO’s in the head, Sir. I have the Conn,” said Weaps.

  “Ok, tell him to come to the wardroom when he’s ready.”

  “Let’s grab a coffee first,” Nathan and Lieutenant Kaminski walked back to the galley, and got three coffees, then returned to the wardroom and sat.

  “How are you with the war committee role Nikki?”

  “I’m fine with it if you are. I was surprised and a bit nervous at first,” she gazed up at him with those doe-like eyes, “but better now. If you think you’ve made a mistake appointing me, I understand.”

  On the one level, he hadn’t made a mistake; she brought a clear alternative view. She had a keen mind that would think the unthinkable. She’d think it, analyse it, accept or reject it. Modify it, or kick its ass. What she lacked maybe was the wisdom of years.

  “No Nikki, I haven’t made a mistake.” You’re lying Blake. “You’re doing great.”

  His dilemma smiled at him, he had to smile back.

  THE XO WALKED INTO the room and sat, and Nikki pushed his coffee to him.

  “Thanks.”

  “OK, how do we get at the damn thing?”

  “It’ll have to be the west gate, I don’t see any other option,” said Larry.

  Nathan nodded.

  Nikki sighed. “I don’t know,” she said, “it’d be easier getting into a Prom Queen’s panties.” She smiled. “I’m a girl, I can say things like that.”

  There had to be a better way, Nathan thought.

  “What about VPM launch tubes? We’ve got four vertical tubes with seven Tomahawk BGM-109 cruise missiles in each. Twenty one Tomahawks, that’s got to hurt.”

  “To get the best accuracy they’ll have to come in from the landward side and that’s over the main Sinpo base,” said Larry. “What about SAM cover, I think it’ll be a bit tough.”

  Nikki switched her tablet on and consulted the dummies guide.

  “Sinpo air defenses. Let’s see. SA-3 Goa upgraded to Pechora-2M, Flatface/Squat eye radar. Useful against cruise missiles. There’s thought to be ten batteries deployed. SA-2 Guideline, range seven to forty kilometres. Spoon rest and Fan Song radars. They’re a bit longer range, but can’t be ruled out at all. SA-7 Grail, MANPADS. Shoulder fired SAM, short range. Rear aspect hit likelihood only. That doesn’t help us, as the Tomahawks will be leaving Sinpo for the one mile run into Mayang-do Island. Numbers deployed are unknown but thought to be hundreds, as they have over four thousand of ‘em. ZSU 57-2 and ZSU 23-4 tracked vehicles with radar guided anti-aircraft guns. One thousand rounds per minute. They’re thought to have five hundred of them so there’ll be more than a few at Sinpo.”

  “So, we can expect high attrition rates if we launch cruise missile strikes,” said Nathan.

  Nikki nodded.

  She went on. “The Pentagon is unlikely to commit a high-level strike by B52s or B1-Bs. As they also have seventy five S200 missiles, range one hundred and ninety miles, one hundred and thirty thousand feet, speed 5,600mph.”

  “Jeezz Nikki, now give me the bad news.”

  “I think the SA-7 Grail will be the greatest threat,” she said, “the Gook’s will have a ton of ‘em.”

  Nathan took a drink of his coffee and set the cup down.

  “So, it’s down to us then,” he smiled faintly. “You know? It is possible to get into a Prom Queen’s panties,” he shrugged, “so they tell me anyway.”

  Chapter 5

  THE OVAL OFFICE.

  IT WAS SEVERAL HOURS later and the news of the Benfield’s sinking had come in.

  “No, NSA Stockhaisen. I will not lie back and whimper. Fucking bastards have sunk one of our destroyers.”

  “But we sunk...”

  “I don’t care if we sunk a fucking Gook sub. I want ass, and I want it now. Get over to the CINC and tell him I want the Pentagon up that fat mother’s ass, like a horny camel.”

  He knew there was no holding the President back on this one. All he could do was moderate it.

  Well; maybe there was something he could do for his daughter? Maybe?

  “Yes Mr President, I’ll get on it right away.”

  THE NATIONAL SECURITY Adviser made a call.

  She tapped the cell’s incoming call icon.

  “Chali zai zheil.”
>
  “Charlie One five one?”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “We need to meet tonight.”

  “Ok, Flushing NYC. Joe’s Shanghai on 37th Avenue. Seven thirty.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  HE SAT IN JOE’S SHANGHAI with a beer.

  “You ready order?”

  “I’m waiting on a lady.”

  “Ok, you call. Here is another menu.” The door opened and a glamorous Asian hooker walked in, wearing a fur jacket and dark fishnet tights, her legs long and slinky. She was the type that would pull you into her and wouldn’t let go.

  She sat by him.

  “I’m hungry, feed me.”

  “You got it.”

  “So here I am, what can I do for you?” she pouted. “Apart from fuck your brains out.”

  “The Ministry of State Security teaches you to do that?”

  “No, I taught myself,” she smiled.

  “Ok. Charlie, this business with the USS Benfield and the sub. You know the President can’t be held back from that one.”

  “You know you need to keep him on his leash, as best you can.”

  “Come on Charlie, he has to do something.”

  “Do you know where in Nam she is?”

  He knew the MSS would know, the bastards. “Where?”

  “The lovely Peekaboo’s in Nha Trang I’m told. That’s on the southeastern coast.”

  “I know where it is,” he replied.

  “It’s a nice place. But does have its seedy side. You need to be careful. The MSS can protect or pursue, you can play a part in that.” She took her coat off. “Now, enough of that, let’s eat.”

  NORTHERN SEA OF JAPAN.

  COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER Lieutenant Commander Lemineux handed Commander Nathan Blake a communications slip.

  “This just came in from COMSUBPAC Sir.”

  He read it. The XO was back aft with some A-gangers. An issue with a stern ballast pump.

  Nathan walked over to the chart display. Lieutenant Nikki Kaminski looked up, smiled and then quickly suppressed it. He handed her the communication.

  PRIORITY RED

  R 221345Z JUL 86 ZY17

  COMSUBPAC PEARL HARBOR HAWAII//N1//

  TO STONEWALL JACKSON

  PACFLT// ID S072RQ81//

  NAVAL OPS/02

  MSGID/PACOPS 6738/COMSUBPAC ACTUAL//

  MSG BEGINS://

  MAINTAIN STATION. OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS ON TEMPORARY HOLD.

  MSG END//

  She read it and handed it back.

  “So, Nikki, it looks like she gets to keep her panties on for a bit longer.”

  She gave him a cheeky smile. “Poor girl.”

  NATHAN COMPLETED HIS tour of the boat, all was well, she was in fine shape. How long this hold would last was anybody’s guess.

  “XO, Kaminski, Weaps. Let’s go to the wardroom. We’ll go via the galley and get some coffee.”

  Sitting around a table in the wardroom, Nathan looked between the two people before him.

  “Weaps, Lieutenant Kaminski has a plan outlined. It hasn’t been authorised, but at some point it may be. I doubt it, but we can’t rule it out. I’d like to put some flesh on the bones, just in case it’s needed. We have a hold on operations, so we’ll do it now. Kaminski, if you outline the plan to Weaps first, then we’ll get started.”

  Nikki explained the plan.

  Weaps puffed his cheeks out. “I see, ok I’ll start a new plan of Ops. What are we going to call it, Sir?”

  “You’d better ask Kaminski.”

  “Well,” she said, “this is the USS Stonewall Jackson, so I guess it has to be Bull Run. The two battles are where the General excelled himself.”

  ANDERSEN AIR FORCE base. Guam.

  THE BENFIELD HAD TO be avenged, there was no holding back, the political situation demanded it. It started hours after the sinking.

  Four GE F101-102 turbofan engines rolled down the runway. Sheets of flame poured out from their afterburners, producing one hundred and twenty thousand pounds of thrust. The B1-B Lancer bomber lifted skyward, followed quickly by a second B1-B.

  “Rooster 2 from Rooster 1 taking up flight level 33 for WP1”

  “Copy Rooster 1.”

  “It’s a long trip north, Kip.”

  “Yeah, but then the fun starts.”

  Major Pete ‘Soup’ Campbell mission commander and Lieutenant Kip ‘Slippy’ Clay, sat side by side at the pointy end of one big kick ass bird.

  Slippy had logged over 1000 hours flying the B-1B or the ‘Bone’, as it was affectionately known. Bone, B one.

  Soup had nearly that, having moved over from the B2 Spirit Stealth Bomber. He’d said that this was real strike missions for real men, not cruising near invisible at high altitude. This was get down low and get dirty.

  The two were part of a flight from the 28th Bomb squadron, on detachment from Dyess AFB Texas.

  WP1 or waypoint 1 was just off Southern Japan. The pair of B1-B Lancers would cross Japan between Hiroshima and Kitakyushu, making rendezvous with a KC-135 Stratotanker over Mishima Island in the Sea of Japan. Refuelled, they’d start to lose altitude before going feet dry south of Donghae, South Korea. It would then be a low-level flight north over the Odaesan and Seoraksan National Parks on their way to the target.

  “Don’t you boys be getting lost now, d’ya hear?” Sat in a separate compartment to the rear of the cockpit was Lieutenant Donna ‘Fangs’ Farra. As the Defensive Systems Officer, she controlled the B1-B’s sophisticated defensive systems. Sitting next to her was Linda ‘Razor’ Seraisi, the Offensive Systems Officer. A black girl from Louisiana and cool as they come, Razor was competent and seemingly unflappable.

  “Yeah, don’t you guys fuck this up. Joe Gook’s looking forward to our visit,” said Razor.

  “Yeah, right,” said Slippy, “you gals knit me a new jumper back there.”

  “In your dreams,” replied Fangs Farra.

  Rooster 1 headed north north west, with Rooster 2 1,000 feet below and behind.

  “ROOSTER 1 DISENGAGED. Thanks for the fill up, Fatman one.”

  “You’re welcome Rooster flight, good hunting. Returning to Yokota. See you on the exfil.”

  “Copy.” The KC-135 turned back to Japan.

  Slippy lined up the aircraft and selected WP2 just off the coast. He eased back on the revs slightly for the long gradual fall to the ingress altitude of two hundred feet.

  Long minutes later they approached the coast.

  “Levelling off, two hundred feet.” Soup saw the coastline through the gathering gloom, lights were on along the coast road. The two deep penetration strike bombers raced in at four hundred knots.

  “Rooster 1 feet dry,” called Slippy.

  “Rooster 2 feet dry.”

  Night vision goggles lit the scene in a pale glow. Slippy selected the valley to his left and followed the western slope. At the end of the valley, he turned hard left, overbanking to line up with the next wooded valley. He settled on a height of one hundred and thirty feet.

  A warble sounded from Fangs’s DSO station. “Defense. Mud Spike. Picking up an Echo band radar, range eight kilometres bearing two six-five degrees.”

  A South Korean military ground radar was painting them.

  “Defense. IFF positive ID.”

  Being an ally, the Republic of Korea Identification Friend Foe system wasn’t flashing the USAF aircraft as a threat. The two B1-Bs rolled on north through steep wooded valleys.

  “Slippy, let the old man have a go at this,” said Soup.

  “You have control.”

  “I have control.” Soup pulled hard into a turn in the valley, reaching a ninety degree bank.

  Pilots who’ve flown both, say the Lancer handles like a heavy F4 Phantom.

  The B1-B screamed up the river valley at four hundred knots. The river was a good visual clue, and Soup got her down to around sixty feet. Their path would take them just west of Yanggu, and Soup saw the lights coming
up on the right.

  The lights disappeared, and the B1-B flew over a broad fertile plain on the east bank of the river.

  “Coming up on Uncle Kim’s backyard.” The Bone crossed the border at eighty feet altitude and four thirty knots.

  “We are officially in bad man’s land,” said Fangs, she let out a whoop. “Time to earn our pay.”

  “Slippy. You take over, we’re on the ingress to the target soon,” said Soup.

  “I’ve things to do. You have control.”

  “I have control.”

  After five kilometres, the Bone flew down the lake complex of Imnam Josuji. Around twelve miles long, it allowed the Lancer to get down real low. There were still turns in the lake complex; forested hills rushed by as they skimmed the lake surface. Slippy pulled back on the stick to gain altitude prior to pulling hard left. A brief fast run over the surface, then a long right turn. The wooded hill was just feet away from the cockpit. The lake petered out into a river, leading them towards the town of Hoeyang. It was now a flat plane all the way to their first target, the Naval base and East Fleet HQ at Wonsan. They crossed the Pyongyang – Wonsan highway, and kept that to their right all the way in.

  “Defense. Mud Spike. Picking up a Charlie band target acquisition radar, twelve kilometres bearing two one degrees. Source is a Flat-Face radar. I’m also detecting a Side-Net radar in support. We have an SA-3 Goa SAM out there. I’m streaming the tail.” Pausing for a few seconds Donna ‘Fangs’ Farra called out, “Tail deployed, going active.”

  Streaming out behind the Bone was the ALE-55 towed repeater jammer, millions of dollars of sophisticated electronics, emitting signals to confuse enemy radar. The towed decoy acts as a missile countermeasures decoy. Crews had nicknamed it ‘Little Buddy’. On the B1-B Lancer, it was integrated into the ALQ-184/9 Electronic Counter Measures pod, thus creating an integrated threat-protection system.