by Unknown
After five minutes, the Farraguts ceased fire and moved on to other targets. There were several more airports and army facilities to hit before the night was over.
Aboard the Pyotr Velikiy
Captain Anton Suvorov was not happy. He and the Black Sea Fleet had been ordered to attack the Americans on the coast of Georgia. They had been given no exact coordinates just a general area. They were to attack the enemy fleet with their cruise missiles then return home. Then he learned that the fleet included several aircraft carriers. There wouldn’t be enough missiles in the fleet to stop all of them. Admiral Vladimir Kosygin had proclaimed to the crew they were going to lead the glorious attack on the Americans who dared to enter the Black Sea. He promised a great victory. Suvorov knew it was all bluster, as did most of the crew, but they had to do their duty. He was surprised they had made it this far across the Black Sea. Still, the Pyotr Velikiy was a good ship. Nuclear powered and armored more heavily than any other ship in the Russian navy there was a chance of getting back home alive. He held onto that chance.
Admiral Kosygin stepped onto the bridge. Even in the dim moonlight Suvorov could see he was in his dress uniform. He wondered who he was trying to impress.
“How long until we reach our launch position, Captain?” Kosygin asked.
Suvorov looked at his watch. “Another two hours, Admiral,” he said. “We will still be too far away for radar detection, but based on our intelligence, the bulk of the invading fleet is still off of Poti. A wide pattern should allow our missiles to locate the ships with their radars and
successfully make their attack. Between all of our force, we should have over fifty missiles to do the job.”
The admiral nodded. “That is very good. Also do not forget our small missile boats. They will continue until they too are in range. Between the two forces, things should work out nicely,” he said.
“I am still concerned about the aircraft carriers that were reported. I am surprised they have not attacked as yet,” said Suvorov.
“Be at peace, Captain. I have received word they are currently attacking some of our air bases. It is possible they do not even know we are at sea. Besides, this is the largest ship in our surface fleet. It is more heavily armed than any other ship, including the Americans. We do not have to worry.”
“But what of their battleships? If they came as well…”
“Our missiles would blow them out of the water. They do not call this ship a battlecruiser for nothing. Let us hear no more about it,” the Admiral said. “I will be in my cabin if you need me.”
“Yes, sir,” said Suvorov. He didn’t believe that blustering fool at all. Missiles like his had struck one three times during their Korean conflict and didn’t much more than scratch the paint. He prayed that those ships were nowhere near the Black Sea.
USS Iowa
Captain Rhodes sat back in his chair. The waiting game the Admiral was playing was testing his nerves. Already all eight of the ship’s boilers were on line and ready for anything that might come. All he needed now was to receive an order to strike. He glanced at his watch. It was 0500. Something would be happening very soon.
USS America
“Admiral, you wanted to be up by five,” said the watch officer.
A groggy Admiral Chris Hustvedt grunted out a ‘thank you,” before rubbing his eyes and putting his shirt back on. He had slept in his pants so that he could be up and ready in case anything had happened. Rubbing his chin he decided to go over his face with a razor first. He walked to his private head and switched his electric razor on running it over his face and getting the worst off before splashing some water on his face to clean up. He grabbed his cover and exited the cabin, going only a few yards to the entrance to flag plot. He was surprised at how rested he felt after only four hours of sleep. “Have they launched yet?” he asked the watch officer.
“Not yet, Admiral. They came within range an hour ago, so I guess they are just making sure,” the commander said.
Hustvedt nodded. “That’s what I’d do. They probably don’t trust their systems that well. Are the helos in place?”
“Yes, sir. They are on station sixty miles south of the formation waiting for the word.”
“Good. Now I guess it’s just a waiting game,” said Hustvedt as he reached for a coffee mug to pour himself a cup.
Lieutenant Commander Jeffers entered the room. He had gotten only two hours in the sack before he got the call. The bags under his eyes told the tale. Hustvedt looked over at him and handed over the mug of coffee. “You look like you could use this more than I could,” he said with a slight smile.
Jeffers took the mug. “I usually don’t drink much coffee, but today I feel like I could handle a gallon,” he said as he added some sugar and creamer. “I take it we’re still waiting.”
The watch officer nodded and everyone took a seat in front of the large screen display showing everything on the link. The night before had been busy. Over twenty airfields and other installations had been hit virtually ending any air attacks on the invasion forces. Richardson was already seventy miles inland and the Turks and paratroopers had begun advancing north to meet her. Once they joined up, all supplies would come through Turkey.
Hustvedt had been surprised at how swiftly things had gone. Intelligence had thought there were more troops in the south, but that had been wrong. After today, there might be nothing left around the Black Sea. But today would make the difference. They knew there would be a missile attack. Everyone was ready for it. He might get some criticism for letting it happen and not attacking with carrier aircraft, but he needed to take out the air bases first. Besides, he had plans for the Kirov and her battle group.
Aboard the Pyotr Velikiy
“Commence firing,” ordered Captain Suvorov. One by one, the missile hatches opened on the foredeck of the ship and with a surge of flame, the missiles climbed into the sky and tilted toward the American Fleet.
After all but two of the missiles had left their tubes the admiral turned to Suvorov. “Excellent, Captain. Have the other ships launched as well?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then take us home. I am sure we will be welcomed as heroes,” the admiral said. “Send to the patrol boats to continue ahead and launch when ready,” he ordered.
“Signal our escorts to come port to a course of 300. Order twenty five knots. Let’s go home,” he said to his crew with a smile.
Immediately the orders were relayed to a relieved crew and the ships turned together to head home. Only several small missile boats continued ahead.
USS Iowa
Captain Rhodes was sitting in his chair on the bridge when the communications officer rushed in. “Captain, you need to read this,” he said.
A sheet of paper was thrust into Rhodes’ hands. The message was from Hustvedt. It had only three words, “Sink the Kirov.”
“My God,” he almost whispered as he re-read the message. He punched the bitch box. “Captain to Strike, where is the Kirov?” he nearly shouted.
“Captain, the Kirov bears 120 at a range of about seventy miles,” came the reply.
He hit a different button. “Sigs, Bridge, signal our escorts, immediate execute, turn starboard 120,” he ordered. “Let me know when they acknowledge.”
He hit a different button again. “Main Control, Bridge. Let me speak to the Chief Engineer.”
“Cheng here Captain.”
“Dan, I am going to ring up flank speed. I want everything the ship’s got. Take it to the limit and then add some. You got that?”
Down in Main Control, Captain Dan Kimberlain blinked. “All of it, Captain?”
“Yea, Dan. We’re going to take on the battlecruiser.”
A smile came to Kimberlain’s face. “Then you’ll have it all, Captain.”
“Thanks, Dan,” said Rhodes.
“Sir, the signal’s acknowledged,” came a report from one of the signalmen.
“Very well. Execute the signal. OOD, come r
ight to 120. Order up flank speed with 999 for maneuvering combinations,” ordered Rhodes from his seat.
The men on the bridge began issuing orders as Rhodes called the signal bridge again. “Sigs, signal the others we are going to flank speed and to keep up as best they can.”
Down in Main Control, Captain Kimberlain picked up the announcing system mike. “Okay guys we are to put it all on the line. I want everything the old lady has. Take her to thirty three to start with,” he said calmly. He turned to the throttleman. “Open her up,” he said.
The men began turning the large throttle wheel and watched as the pressure gages showed an increase in pressure as the throttle allowed more steam to pass into the high pressure turbine and on to the low pressure turbine. The shafts immediately began to spin more rapidly as the 212,000 horsepower engines thrust the great ship forward.
On the fantail, the after lookout felt the deck begin to tremble as the four huge screws bit into the water and threw it back. The ship’s wake became a bright white, boiling foam as the ship picked up speed. Down in the messdecks, the noise almost drown out shouted conversations. People could feel the screws racing beneath them.
On the bridge, Rhodes picked up the microphone for the 1MC. “This is the Captain. We have our orders. Iowa is to sink the Kirov battlecruiser. We will be going to general quarters in fifteen minutes. From this point on, everyone should keep within the skin of the ship if at all possible. Keep safe but get the job done. Remember, this is what Iowa was built to do. Let’s show them what a real battleship is capable of. Good luck,” he said before placing the microphone back in its holder.
Almost as a natural reaction to the news, the crew went to their battle stations even before the alarm was sounded. Everyone checked their gear and laid out what was necessary to fight a pitched battle at sea. Ten decks above main deck, Master Chief Skelly opened the hatch into spot one to find his fire control crew already in position. He climbed into his seat and began lining up the circuits linking the director to the Ford Rangekeeper far below. “No radar this time, guys,” he said. “We’re gonna have to find the bad guys with our eyes.”
In Main Battery Plot the fire control team readied the Ford Rangekeeper for its job. Circuits were activated and a team of people began twisting the brass butterfly switches to accept a signal from the director and to send the computer generated signal to the three turrets. Spot One would be the first to see them. The enemy was nowhere near in range, but it didn’t matter. When they came in sight, everything would be ready.
In the magazines, the crews began unloading the metal canisters holding the 110 lb. bags of powder and placing the bags in a line along a brass trough where they could be slid down to the end for loading through the passing scuttles into the annular space and then again into the turret.
Inside the turrets on the projectile decks, the crews used the parbuckling gear to move the giant projectiles into the three hoists so that they were ready to be loaded into the breeches of the guns. They already knew that the first rounds would be general purpose rounds. The green painted rounds only weighed 1,900 pounds. But off to the side were black ones. They were the 2,700 pound armor piercing rounds. Although they doubted anything they might come up against would need them, they were always available.
When general quarters finally sounded, the ready reports came almost instantly. Rhodes grinned. His ship and crew were ready.
The after lookout had to move to a position just above turret three. The stern of the ship had dipped so low that water was now cascading across the teak deck enough to possibly cause someone to fall and go over the side. Down in Main Control the engineers were watching the torque gauges. The thrust bearing end was already one and a half revolutions ahead of the screws, yet the old girl had more to give. Kimberlain ordered another revolution of the throttle. Once again, the pressure gauges went up and the shafts turned faster. According to the pit log they were doing 35 knots.
Berlin
Hammond sat on the edge of his seat. Someone had said the Iowa was turning. He zoomed in the large display to see only the two battle groups. Now Iowa and the Kirov were headed straight for each other. He saw the speed display inch upward. “He’s going to do it,” Hammond said to no one in particular.
The German Chancellor looked over at him. “Do what?”
Hammond was almost beside himself. He had a look of complete satisfaction on his face. “The Iowa is going to take on the Russian battle group. I wish I was there with them.”
“But there are only three ships in the Iowa group. There are seven in the other,” the Chancellor exclaimed.
“I know. But they can do it,” Hammond said confidently. He turned to the watch officer. “Send to the Iowa via the link, good hunting, Hammond.”
Sir Richard burst into the room and rushed over to the two men. “I just heard. Wouldn’t miss this for the world. How soon will they meet,” he asked.
“About an hour. They are closing right now at about sixty knots,” said Hammond.
“Sixty? The Kirov can’t do much more than twenty five!”
Hammond chuckled. “I would venture Dan Kimberlain is down in his hole right now turning those shafts through force of will,” he said.
American Invasion Force
The incoming cruise missiles turned on their radars about one hundred miles from where they expected their target. At first, they saw nothing at all. The first one, then another target showed up on their radars about twenty degrees from where they had been aimed. The missiles turned toward their targets.
Hustvedt watched as the missiles tracked in. All of his ships were ready but had kept their cloaks on. He saw the missiles make a turn towards their targets. The missiles began dropping down to just 100 feet above the sea to skim in at a lower level. Their speed was supersonic. He turned to his watch officer. “Tell them to resume cloak and get the hell out of there,” he said.
Sixty miles to the south, eight Seahawk helicopters switched their cloaks back on and began moving quickly back to their ships with the rest of the invasion force. Within two minutes the cruise missiles screamed past their position and headed into southern Georgia. One by one they ran out of fuel and crashed in a large explosion in the mountains near Zoti.
USS Iowa
“We have a contact,” Skelly almost screamed into the sound powered phones. After an hour of searching along the bearing through his optics he finally saw what looked like a Top Pair radar antenna in the viewfinder. Within a second they had determined the range. “Target bears 122 at 60,000 yards.”
“It’s still too far for the machine,” said one of the fire control technicians.
“That’s okay,” said the Weapons Officer. “Now that we have him, he can’t get away.”
The range closed rapidly. Within ten minutes the data was entered into the Ford Rangekeeper and the computer began generating a solution for the guns. On deck, warning bells began sounding as the giant turrets began rotating along their roller paths to point toward their target.
In the turrets, the men heard the order, “All turrets, nine gun salvo, load.”
Immediately the projectiles rose from the projectile decks and were in position inside the gun house. The powders rose from the bottom of the turret in their elevators. The breeches opened and the ramps were lowered into place. First, the projectile was shoved by the rammers into the open breech to mesh with the rifling in the gun barrel. The rammer was retracted and the door for the powders opened. The first three and then a second set of three bags of powder rolled down into the tray and were more slowly rammed into the breech behind the projectile. Behind the gun, a primerman inserted a primer into the breech block and stood back. When the powders were in position, the rammer retracted, the ramps were pulled back, and the breech was closed and sealed. The guns elevated almost to a full 45 degrees.
“One one two, forty thousand yards,” reported Skelly.
“Set!” shouted an officer in Main Battery Plot. The computer was generatin
g an accurate solution, keeping up with the pace of both the target and own ship.
The Weapons Officer pressed the button on the bitch box. “Bridge, main plot. Weapons are on target, plot is set. Request batteries released.”
Rhodes leaned over and pressed the button. “Weaps this is the Captain. You have batteries released at 38,000 yards.” He then ordered a slight left turn to unmask all the guns.
Everyone below watched as the dials spun down on the Rangekeeper. When they passed 38,000 yards, the Weapons Officer personally squeezed the trigger.
The guns roared to life sending a flame high into the air. The projectiles took a minute to get to their target. During that time a second salve was fired.
Aboard the Pyotr Velikiy
There was a sound of tearing linen just before nine rounds struck the sea on the starboard side of the ship some fifty yards away. The sound of the rounds going off shook the ship as water rose a good 100 feet above the waves.
“What was that?” screamed Admiral Kosygin.
Suvorov stared out the bridge windows in amazement. His worst fears had just come true. He turned in a rage to the admiral. “They are the shells of an American battleship, you idiot,” he yelled. “Where are they coming from?” he asked his deck officer.
“We don’t know, Captain. There is nothing on the radar.”
“Order the others to escape as best they can,” ordered the admiral.
USS Iowa
Skelly saw the rounds fall fifty yards to the right of the target. He called down to the plot. “Right five, no change in range. Fire for effect,” he called out.
