The Iranian Blockade

by Stephen Makk

  “Sir, a word of caution,” said Kaminski.

  “Go on.”

  “Those studies were done with Indian boats and a Polish boat. The sonar was improved since then.”

  “Ok,” said Nathan, “but do the Iranian’s have that improvement?”

  “I don’t know Sir.” Nathan knew you couldn’t know everything.

  “We’ll have to take our chances.” The boat edged its way towards a position four hundred feet below the Kilo. Nathan worried about his depth, should he have gone deeper? He’d another one thousand five hundred feet still to go.

  “Trim for descent, let’s get more headroom above us.” The boat sank further into the depths.

  “Our depth is one thousand seven hundred feet Sir.” He’d leave it a little longer until levelling out.

  “Flash, flash,” called out Benson his voice rang out with alarm.

  “Type 53 fish launched, it’s heading down Sir.” Damn, Nathan knew that it was Ostekhbureau’s finest. Capable of fifty miles per hour and carrying a quarter ton of TNT; it was coming for them. Desperate times, desperate measures.

  “Blow forward, max revs.”

  “Emergency ascent Sir.”

  Nikki frowned, what?

  “One thousand five hundred feet, three hundred feet. Max revs.” USS Stonewall Jackson climbed up from the depths. He calculated the time elapsed.

  “Weaps, launch tube four.”

  “Aye Sir. Fish launched and running. Good launch, fish is hungry Sir.”

  “Type 53 range three hundred feet, closing, closing. Range two hundred feet Sir.”

  “Hard right rudder. Eject countermeasures to our left.”

  “Range one hundred feet Sir. Fifty feet Sir.”

  “Sir. Fish has passed us by. Sir, it’s... wait one. It’s turning, it’s looking for us.” Benson laughed. “It’s spiralling down, searching below us. The bastard missed, and it thinks we’re deep.”

  “Mk 48 running in on Tango five,” said Weaps, “pinging, pinging. Cutting wire.”

  A thudding boom sounded from outside the hull.

  “Fish missed Sir, it blew short of Tango five,” said Benson.

  “Recompute firing solution on tube six, mark Tango five.”

  “Solution laid in. Tube is ready in all respects.”

  “Sir,” said Benson, “Tango five is remaining hull upward her prop isn’t turning. She’s falling Sir. The kilo’s falling down, ass first, she must be leaking bad. She’s blown ballast, still falling.”

  “Put the feed on the boat’s intercom.”

  “Aye Sir.” The sound of rushing, a creak and then another. The death sounds of a groaning hull, creaking wailing steel. The groaning became constant. The crew looked at each other. Throughout the boat, men and women, led in bunks, put down books, took off headphones. In the galley they looked at the table. cups of coffee sat there. It seemed a sacrilege to do anything other than listen. They listened to the awful sounds of the crushing end. It could be us. They knew that Mothers, Fathers, Sisters and Brothers lost what they loved that day. There was no satisfaction, they witnessed their fellow submariner’s agony. The groaning of the hull became a soft sudden tearing sound. The hull implosion. Tango five was off down to the vast graveyard that was the seabed.

  Nathan picked up the intercom and spoke quietly. “All hands. Hot datum on the Kilo. God rest our foes. Captain out.”

  “Benson range to Tango four?”

  “Two miles Sir.”

  “Weps, recompute the solution on Tango four and launch tube six.”

  “Sir” Long seconds later. “Solution laid in. Launch tube six. Good launch, fish running and hungry. Time to impact, two minutes fifteen seconds.”

  Over a minute passed. “Sir, Tango four is diving. Fish running in, close now, close.” Nathan knew as a Littoral or coastal submarine, optimised for anti-shipping operations, the Ghadir class wouldn’t be a deep diving boat. Its countermeasures would be limited, if indeed there were any.

  “Impact. Hot datum on Tango four.” The boat didn’t cheer. The USS Stonewall Jackson had a job to do, it intended to do it ruthlessly and efficiently.

  Nathan took no pleasure in sinking the boats he faced. He knew it was all unnecessary, if the high command had the balls to give the order to sink the two Roll on Roll off vessels out at sea, then... Nathan shook his head.

  “Nikki give us a course to follow the cargo ships into Bandar. Benson get your ears cleaned, we’ll get plenty of company in the Strait. Make for periscope depth Planesman. Get the mast up Comms. I’ve a message for the Pentagon.”

  Chapter 16

  “What’s our position Lieutenant?”

  “Sir, we are twenty miles south of Qeshm Island, thirty miles from Bandar Abbas,” said Kaminski.

  “Ahead two thirds.”

  “Sir.” Benson raised his arms and placed his hands on his head. “Holy Mother... Sir, we have multiple subsurface contacts ahead and to starboard, they’re heading south.”

  “Where are they? How many?”

  “Where are they? They’re everywhere. How many? A Goddamn shoal of them. There’s no obvious direction, they look to be searching. I’d say they’re...hold...the library is now confirming it. They’re Ghadir class, with a few others mixed in. Range from twelve to eight miles. It’s submarine city out there Sir.”

  Lemineux raised his hand. “We have a communication in Sir, can we stream the buoy?”

  “Yes, stream the buoy and pull down what you’ve got.”

  Benson turned to him with a furrowed brow and concern in his eyes.

  “We have a surface contact south of Qeshm Island, twelve miles away. Sir, it’s a Sahand class frigate, too far for his torpedoes, but he carries Agusta 212 Helicopters.

  Nathan knew that the Iranians were pulling out the stops, there were just too many for him to handle. Only one thing for it.

  “Weaps, Benson. Listen, I want you to work together and sink as many Iranian boats as you can. It’s your call, work together. I’ll get involved if needs be. Benson will line em up, Weaps you will sink em. I want a Qeshm Turkey shoot.”

  Nathan stood his fists on Weap’s console.

  “Before you do that Weaps, I have something I need you to do. Designate the Frigate as Tango one. Flood tube five and open outer doors. Compute a firing solution for a Harpoon missile. Fire when ready.”

  “Sir.” Weaps got to work. “Harpoon ready in tube five, firing solution laid in on Tango one. Launch tube five.” The canister rose to the surface and its cap blew off. The missile was blown clear, its motor ignited, and the missile rose then dropped to twenty feet from the waves. The Harpoon raced in at five hundred and forty MPH and active radar homing led the missile to its target.

  THE FRIGATE DETECTED the incoming missile and ejected chaff, thin metal strips to deflect it.

  Too late, the missile dipped lower on final approach, four hundred and eighty eight pounds of high explosive and motor propellant slammed into the Sahand. Lieutenant Plazar, weapons officer aboard the Agusta 212 helicopter saw his ship struck. He knew two minutes earlier and it could have been him down there. It was time to hunt out the submarine who did this. Time for vengeance.

  ABOARD THE JACKSON, Nathan heard the reports of the Harpoon’s launch.

  “Weaps, go and sink some boats. Make General Jackson proud of you. Give them the Bayonet.”

  “SIR,” SAID LIEUTENANT Commander Lemineux, “I’ve sent the communication to your console.”

  “Thanks Comms.”

  He sat back and listened to Benson and Weaps working down their target list.

  “Tango three.”

  “Launching tube two.”

  “Hot datum.”

  “Contact eight miles.”

  “Launch tube four. Fish running.”

  “Running in pinging.”

  “Hot Datum. Tango five.”

  “Designate contact as Tango three.”

  The two of them methodically worked on their contacts,
it wasn’t pretty he knew.

  Nathan had to break off and read the communication, he shook his head and smiled.

  “XO, come and take a look.”

  PRIORITY RED

  R 285655Z JUL 88 ZY10

  DOD-OPS// ID D22953G22F//

  TO STONEWALL JACKSON

  PACFLT// ID S072RQ81//

  NAVAL INTEL OPS/07

  MSGID/DOD 447/7E62//

  MSG BEGINS://

  TARGET AUTHORISATION AG64N710NK. YOU ARE GO FOR TARGETING TWO ROLL-ON ROLL-OFF SHIPS YOU HAVE FOLLOWED. GOOD HUNTING, CNO N KAMOV USN.

  MSG END//

  “Benson. Where are the two cargo ships?” The sonar operator played with his console, the display changed.

  “Sir, bearing four zero degrees, range six miles.”

  “XO, we need to make sure, we’ll use fish, as many as it takes. I intend to get close. How are we with battery power?”

  “We’ve enough for what you’re planning but we’ll need to top up in five or so hours.”

  “Right rudder. Set course thirty degrees, all ahead full.”

  It wasn’t long before the boat was within a mile of her quarry. “Make for periscope depth.”

  “At periscope depth.” Nathan raised the photonic mast and viewed the scene on his monitor.

  “Come left ten degrees.” He lowered the mast.

  “Ten left Sir.”

  He raised the mast again. “Weaps give me two MK 48 tubes.”

  “Tubes five and six Sir.”

  “Flood tube five, open outer doors.”

  “You need a firing solution Sir.” Nathan smiled at him.

  “No, I’m going to do a world war two visual engagement.”

  ABOARD THE AGUSTA HELICOPTER the operator got a return. The sonabuoys had picked up a speeding submarine. He knew it wasn’t Iranian. That would be it. It was heading for the two cargo ships heading for Bandar Abbas. He armed the Chinese air dropped anti-submarine torpedo the Yu-7.

  “Contact, submarine bearing four eight range three miles. Set intercept course. Let’s get him.”

  IN THE CONTROL ROOM of USS Mason an Air warfare officer dressed in a white anti-flash hood looked into a radar screen and spoke into her microphone.

  “Pussycat two, Mason Air. We have trade, one point seven miles west of Qeshm Island. Altitude five hundred feet, heading East.

  Your vector is five degrees, weapon release in the green.”

  Over the Gulf, an F/A18 Hornet broke right and dived to six thousand feet. It’s radar picked up a return.

  “Mason Air. I have the contact. The weapons officer in the rear seat engaged an AMRAAM missile. Launch, launch go.” The missile dropped from its hardpoint and sped off into the blue.

  “Good launch, the bird is flying.”

  THE AGUSTA NEARED THE target, just a bit closer thought Lieutenant Plazar. His finger itched over the Torpedo release button. He knew it was better to give the target no room to escape. They closed on the enemy submarine.

  The AMRAAM flashed in and struck the helicopter, it broke into three parts and each fell into the sea flaming fire and smoke.

  CAPTAIN LAKARANI LISTENED to his sonarman. “So you’re saying it was the same submarine type as we sank before?”

  “Yes Sir. It’s near the two cargo ships.”

  “Make your heading three degrees. Flood tube two.” The Ghadir class boat INS Marmahi (Eel) had escaped the mayhem going on around it. Boats were being attacked everywhere. Here was an enemy, it would pay for its actions. The Ghadir closed.

  NATHAN TOOK IN THE view from the mast. “Come left three degrees.”

  “Three degrees Aye Sir.”

  Nathan judged the moment. The moment the track would cross the target.

  “Launch tube five.”

  “Tube five launch, fish is running. Closing, closing.” The cargo ship blew up amidships. A blasting column of water burst into the air lifting the ship with it. The Mk 48 had done its work. The ship’s back had broken. Nathan watched as the fore and stern sections sank beneath the waves.

  Now for the forward ship. “Come to three five five degrees.”

  The USS Stonewall Jackson came to the new heading. Nathan lined up on the second Roll on Roll off ship. He made his calculations.

  CAPTAIN LAKARANI OF the Ghadir submarine Eel calculated his attacking strategy. The same submarine type was she? The same type he’d sunk before. The foreign enemy would learn that Hormuz was Iranian territory.

  “Ready tube two.” A Chinese made Yu-6 waited for launch.

  “Tube ready, firing solution set for tube two, Sir.” Lakarani waited, this was it.

  “Launch tube two.”

  The bow vibrated and gave a pulsing sound.

  “Torpedo away Sir. Clear launch. It’s running in, speed is now full attack.”

  “Sir,” said Benson his alarm came through, “We have a fish running in on us, the library classifies it as Yu-6. Range, point eight miles.”

  Shit. “Ready countermeasures to right.”

  “Point five Sir, running in fast.” Nathan knew he had to wait. He counted down the seconds.

  “Hard left rudder, all ahead full. Eject countermeasures to right.”

  The boat tilted hard to the left, the control room personnel held on or were held by their straps.

  “Running in Sir. One hundred yards. Fifty.”

  Benson laughed. “It’s passed us by Sir, we did it. It’s searching, I can hear its active sonar looking for us.”

  Benson stood with clenched fists. “Yes, yes. It’s going for the ship. It’s going for our target.”

  Nathan looked at his monitor. The lead ship the Luzon Star was hit astern. Her rear section was ripped away, the bow rose then slid back towards the sea. Within a minute of the impact, the ship had gone down.

  With it had gone the last of the North Korean – Iranian nuclear weapons.

  Nathan grinned. “Mission almost accomplished. Come about for a heading south. Give me an active ping on that Ghadir boat.”

  “Active ping on target. We have him Sir,” said Weaps. “firing solution laid in.”

  “Launch tube six.”

  “Fish running, aspect change on target, he’s coming left Sir. Turning, turning. Fish pinging, closing. Yes, Hot Datum on target. He’s broken in two, massive gas escape. He’s going down.”

  FIVE DAYS OF PATROLLING the Strait after what became known as The Battle of Qeshm Island had come to an end. Nathan ordered the boat to surface in the Gulf of Oman at a predetermined location. “XO let the Chief Engineer know he can run his diesels and charge the batteries.”

  “Aye Sir.”

  “COB open the hatch.”

  “Sir.” Nathan followed him up and into the open air, the two of them stood in the sail. COB run our flag up on the Jackstay.” The Chief of the boat ran up the Skull and bones. The USS Stonewall Jackson flew the pirate flag. She’d killed the enemy on her patrol.

  After twenty minutes two identical boats sailed towards her just to her starboard side. In the lead was the first of her diesel electric sister ships USS 73 Easting followed by USS Chosin Reservoir. Their Captains’ stood in their sails.

  “Blake,” shouted the Commander of the 73 Easting, “did you leave any of them for us?” Nathan laughed. The two of them sailed off towards the Strait of Hormuz. He knew The Iranian Blockade was in good hands.

  LONDON.

  ANUPA FINISHED HER final course at the Kolapata restaurant in Whitechapel. She laughed at Marella’s comment.

  “Marella, come on he did have a nice bum,” said Tosser.

  A man stood behind Anupa with his arms on her chair back.

  “Hi, girls I’d just like a word with Anupa.” She turned.

  “Josh. What are you doing here?” He flicked his head towards the door. She stood.

  “You can have a word with me after,” said Marella.

  Anupa stood with him by the door. “What do you want?”

  “I had a word with a certain Saudi Princ
e and we thought you deserved this.” He handed over an envelope.

  “It was recently liberated from people of your acquaintance. The Prince wanted you to have this in appreciation of your efforts for his organisation the Maslahat Al-Istikhbarat Al-Aammah. Their colleagues in the Mossad thought it appropriate too.”

  “But I haven’t worked for Saudi or Israeli intelligence.” Josh raised his eyebrow and smirked.

  “What is it?”

  Josh smiled. “Take a look. Good night Anupa.” Josh left.

  Anupa stood and leaned against the wall, her mouth open.

  She now knew the truth. It had all been a con. The Americans and the British had done the Saudi’s and the Israeli’s bidding. The two of them had worked together to rid the Iranians of Nuclear weapons. The Saudi’s turned the screws with the money, the Israeli’s had worked the Iranian’s and coordinated with the American and the British.

  “Sneaky bastards.”

  She had to know what was in the envelope, she walked into the ladies and entered a stall. She opened it and took out the document.

  “Good God.” In her hands were the details of a numbered Swiss bank account at the Julius Baer Bank along with its password. It held a balance of two million US Dollars.

  GUAM.

  NATHAN AWOKE IN HIS hotel room. It was around eight in the morning, the usual time. He slid the sheets back and tried not to awake the trim but curvy blond who lay on her side with her back to him. She mumbled something and slept on. He dressed and left the room, passed by the desk downstairs, nodded to the receptionist and left the hotel for his morning walk. Nathan stopped off at the usual store and bought a copy of USA Today.

  “Good morning Mr Blake.” He turned to see a stunner of an Asian woman, black hair of course, late twenties. She wore a blue shirt, tied off above the waist and shorts.

  “Enjoying your shore leave?” she smiled.