The Third World War - August 1985

by John Hackett

  “Down periscope - sixty-five metres.” It had taken P.K. some time to get used to ordering the depth to keep in metres. But it was over ten years since the Admiralty charts had been made metric and the fathom had dropped out of the language.

  P.K.’s orders were to establish anti-submarine patrol in an area between the Shetland Islands and the Faroes. He would be well clear of other NATO submarines. Because of the prevailing water conditions he had decided to remain in the “surface duct”; this would also enable him to come quickly and quietly to periscope depth to classify any sonar contacts there might be. There were still some trawlers at sea, and possibly other surface vessels.

  “Control room - Sonar.” The watchkeeper’s voice came over the intercom. “Red three two, sir - contact.”

  “Action Stations, Number One,” ordered P.K. “Bring all tubes to the Action State. Periscope depth.” The boat angled slightly upwards and levelled off. “Up periscope.”

  Keene gazed intently, moving the periscope a little to and fro either side of the bearing. Then he clicked the handle to give “low power” magnification and swung quickly right round and back to the original bearing.

  “Down periscope.”

  In the Control Room men had moved to their Action Stations. As nuclear-powered submarines spent almost all their time dived, the hallowed cry “Diving Stations” had been discarded in favour of the more descriptive “Action Stations”. But to a submariner the “dangers of the sea” were always more to be feared than the “violence of the enemy” ... or were they? The next few minutes would tell.

  “All tubes at Action State, sir,” came the report from Jake Bond, the Torpedo Control Officer.

  “Bearing Red three oh, sir, diesel H.E.,” from the Sonar Room.

  “Up periscope.” P.K. looked on the bearing, then, as before, a few degrees either side. “Nothing in sight on the bearing. Could be a submarine ‘snorting’. He may have just begun to. Could be close. Number One, pass the word that we are attacking an enemy submarine. Down periscope.”

  Tom Richardson, the First Lieutenant, called, “D’ye hear there?” on the intercom and passed the word.

  “Bearing Red two eight, sir. H.E. increasing. Classified submarine. Diesel. Two forty revs, sir. Eight knots if it’s a Tango class.” It was the Chief Sonar Operator now. Gordon. An excellent man.

  “Port twenty. Stand by One and Two tubes. Pilot, let me have a range as soon as you can. Steer three zero zero.”

  The Coxswain repeated back the order. The Control Room was very quiet now. Everyone was at his post. The tension was building up.

  “I’ll take another look,” said the Captain. “Up periscope.”

  “Bearing Green four three,” came from the Sonar Room. “Moving right.”

  “Range five thousand two hundred, sir,” said Harry Clay, the Navigator.

  The Captain aligned the periscope on the bearing. “Bring her up, Number One, I think there’s something there . . . YES! By God, and she’s close. Down periscope, sixty-five metres. Switch to sonar. Range three thousand. Number One tube - Shoot!” P.K. moved to the Fire Control Panel.

  “Torpedo’s running, sir,” said Jake Bond.

  “Good,” said P.K. He had carried out scores of dummy attacks on friendly submarines in the course of his training. He had seen many Tigerfish anti-submarine torpedoes fired, for practice. Some had run badly. He gazed intently at the illuminated panel, ready to guide the torpedo if need be. He could hardly believe it. There was his torpedo - a homing torpedo - moving straight out towards the target. A minute went by. It seemed eternal. Half a minute more and then from the Sonar Room:

  “Acoustic contact!” Followed, after an agonizing pause, by, “Tonk!” A faint metallic thud was heard.

  “Damn!” said Keene, in an agony of dismay. “Something’s wrong. The torpedo hit but didn’t explode. . .”

  “Control Room - Sonar,” Gordon’s voice broke in, “H.E.’s stopped, sir! I think we got him. That was an explosion! Last bearing Green five seven.”

  “Good,” said P.K. “Periscope depth. Up periscope.” Once again P.K. examined the bearing. “Bring her up, Number One.” The Captain swung right round, examining the horizon, then came back to the original bearing. “There’s nothing there. That Tigerfish did its stuff, after all. It didn’t sound like it, though. Pilot, get a report ready: ‘Have sunk Tango class submarine in position so-and-so.’ We’ll check for survivors or wreckage, or any other evidence. But I don’t think there’s any doubt. That’s one down and three hundred and two to go.” “

  ‘Churchill reports torpedoing a submarine - a Tango - twenty miles north west of Herma Ness, sir!’ was the first bit of heartening news of the war for the Joint Allied Command Western Approaches. It was given to them, in their capacities as Cs-in-C Eastern Atlantic and Commander Maritime Air, Eastern Atlantic, at the first morning ‘briefing’ of the war, deep underground at Northwood, Middlesex. The Flag Officer Submarines, who since 1978 had been located at Northwood, was, as they said, ‘somewhat chuffed’ as his Chief Staff Officer made the report. ‘Are you quite sure that it wasn’t one of ours?’ was the question asked, simultaneously, by the Admiral and the Air Marshal. They were greatly relieved to be assured that it was not. ‘No doubt at all. It was a diesel-electric boat, and there were no NATO ones anywhere near.’ The discussion which ensued, regarding Soviet and NATO submarine dispositions, revealed that the avoidance of mutual interference between NATO’s own submarine forces, and between NATO surface and air anti-submarine forces and NATO submarines, would be a serious problem. This had been expected, but its resolution would continually govern the operations of all NATO naval and air forces.

  Turning to current operations it was reported that the First Support Group (formerly STANAVFORLANT - Standing Naval Force Atlantic) was on its way, at best speed, towards the Norwegian coast. In about twelve hours it would reach the limit of shore-based air cover from the UK. The fast transports, carrying reinforcements for the northern flank, had sailed from the Forth and were expected to rendezvous with the First Support Group shortly.

  The air strike planned against Soviet installations on and around the Kola peninsula on the outbreak of hostilities was launched from UK bases, and timed to achieve a co-ordinated on-target time of 1100 hours GMT. The force consisted of thirty-six Tornados and sixteen Buccaneers. The latter, venerable though they might be, had been retained, refitted and re-armed, in the maritime role as they were superseded by Tornados in the more complex and demanding Central European overland role. They were well respected for their performance, handling qualities and robustness - ‘Not built, carved out of the solid!’ noted one pilot with affection.

  The targets were four Soviet Naval Air Force (SNAF) airfields on which were based the bulk of the Northern Fleet Backfire force. ‘Destroy the aircraft and close the airfields’ was the objective, and a tall order at that. The flight profile was straightforward: to fly with tanker support as far towards the Lofoten Islands as prudence (with regard to tanker survival) would permit, then to carry out an overland low-level penetration. The Tornados would recover to Britain with tanker assistance, the Buccaneers would refuel at Bodo. The attacks would open with anti-radar missiles fired at stand-off ranges by the Tornados to damp things down a little, and would then be pressed home with area weapons against runways and aircraft installations. Gun and rocket fire would then, it was hoped, finish off any unscathed aircraft.

  And so it went, broadly. Remarkably, the Russians seemed, if not unprepared, at least surprised. Although no firm evidence has come to light, it has been suggested that they had assumed some form of tacit quid pro quo with the Americans, whereby neither would launch an attack upon the homeland of its adversary until escalation was approaching strategic levels. If so, it was an expensive assumption. A calm analysis - the immediate claims exhibited the usual optimism of war - showed a score of sixty-one Backfires destroyed and many damaged, which was certainly more than had been hoped. But there had been
a cost: five Buccaneers and nine Tornados were lost during the attacks. Sadly, all but one of the remaining Buccaneers were caught on the ground at Bodo during their recovery by a massive Soviet attack on that airfield.

  The three maritime radar reconnaissance squadrons of RAF Vulcans had been occupied in routine surface surveillance of the North and Norwegian Seas and the Eastern Atlantic for weeks. The scale and intensity of their operations now increased, co-ordinated with sea surveillance squadrons of USAF working in WESTLANT and the Greenland-Iceland gap. The loss of satellite surveillance of the Atlantic at the outbreak of hostilities placed an increased burden on their activities. Their first major customer appeared on the evening of 4 August, when a Vulcan detected what seemed most likely to be an amphibious landing group rounding the North Cape. One Vulcan squadron was now devoted to a round-the-clock surveillance of this group, working in co-operation with Norwegian fast patrol boats.

  Anti-submarine operations in EASTLANT to clear the sea for Strike Fleet, particularly the vital gap between Greenland and the UK, for long a major role of the Royal Navy, had also been under way, on a surveillance basis. Now they were in earnest. Three ASW (anti-submarine warfare) groups of the RN, supported by Dutch and Norwegian surface units, combed the ocean, co-ordinating their operations with the RAF, USAF and Royal Norwegian Air Force maritime patrol aircraft based in the UK, Iceland and Norway. Air defence cover was provided by an escort carrier, land-based fighters from the UK supported by tankers, and AEW (airborne early warning) Nimrods. Further west, Iceland-based F-15s would cover the operations. Whatever their quarry, Strike Fleet or convoys, the Soviet submarines had to be detected, and hopefully destroyed, here in the gap.

  As far as sea management was concerned, the proclamation by the British government of a state of emergency, a week previously, had been indispensable. It had enabled the Naval Control of Shipping to be instituted, the reserves to be mobilized, and a large number of dormant appointments to be activated, setting up Naval Officers-in-Charge at all the major ports. Mine counter-measures had been started, on the pathetically small scale which was all that could be done with the derisory forces available.

  The first JACWA briefing, which followed that of EASTLANT, was dominated by reports, many of which came in by telephone and teleprinter during the meeting, of heavy fighting in northern Germany and the Baltic Exits. A desperate message from the Commander Allied Forces Baltic Approaches (COMB ALTAP), at Karup in Denmark, was typical:

  ‘To CINCNORTH, for information to JACWA:

  ‘ 1 Soviet ground forces with air support are attacking Aarhus.

  ‘2 Minelaying in Great Belt and Langeland Belt 50 per cent completed.

  ‘3 All operational naval forces ordered to sea. Submarines will patrol in Kattegat. Surface forces are to engage hostile surface forces as opportunity offers, retiring on Stavanger for replenishment. Operational control now with Allied Commander Naval Forces Scandinavian Approaches.

  ‘4 Understand Danish government now en route to UK by air.

  ‘5 COMBALTAP with elements of staff expects to leave Karup by air shortly for Kolsaas.’

  It soon became clear, from Soviet declarations, that the political aim of Warsaw Pact military action was to overrun and neutralize the Federal German Republic, then call a halt and seek negotiations with the United States. Pact operations in the northern area of the Central Region had certainly gone according to plan. Despite spirited resistance by NATO forces, most of the Soviet’s territorial objectives had been gained. Sheer weight of numbers saw to that. The Baltic Exits were to all intents and purposes in Soviet hands, though the main channels had been closed by mines; the North Sea coast as far west as the Hook of Holland was also under Soviet control; and sea traffic between the United Kingdom and the Continent was under constant and heavy attack from large numbers of Soviet light forces. These had been sent through the Kiel Canal (an attempt to block it was too late) and operated night and day under strong fighter cover.

  Western Approaches naval and air combat forces vigorously opposed this threat to vital cross-Channel communications. German and Dutch frigates, and a few Danish fast patrol boats (FPB), transferred by SACEUR to JACWA’s operational control, made many successful attacks. The handful of FRG Naval Air Force Tornados which had been evacuated to the UK bolstered those few RAF Tornados and Buccaneers that could be spared by JACWA from operations in the Norwegian Sea. At this point the RAF Hawks, now liberated from their training tasks and armed with guns and rockets, came into their own and were launched into the war. Over this mixed force presided one squadron of Vulcan MR (maritime reconnaissance) aircraft, withdrawn, after long debate, from the Norwegian Sea, to feed the vital target information to the attackers, seaborne and airborne. The Soviet forces suffered heavy damage in the intense struggle, but again their numerical advantage was taking its toll: as far west as Boulogne the Grishas, Nanutchkas and Osas of the Soviet Baltic Fleet were joined on the bottom by more and more NATO ships.

  On land the NATO forces were fighting back desperately, and the decision of France to play her part in the Alliance had given rise to some hope in the councils of NATO that the Soviet intentions might, at the eleventh hour, be frustrated. The anguished debate over the use of nuclear weapons and the decisions taken have been recounted elsewhere. Recent improvements in NATO’s defences had allowed S ACEUR to stem the flood. But if the tide was to be turned, all would depend on the safe and timely arrival of the seaborne reinforcements. The prospect of successful ocean transit could to some extent be assessed in the light of certain naval and air operations which had been taking place in the Atlantic and the Norwegian Sea simultaneously with the debacle in the southern North Sea and the English Channel.

  The First Support Group had, since the 5th, been supporting the attempt to reinforce northern Norway, where the airlifted ACE Mobile Force had been engaged since late on the 4th in resisting the powerful Soviet invasion through Finmark. Bodo had been rendered unusable, first by Soviet attack and then by the Norwegian response to the invaders, and the Allied forces were struggling to hold the line at Trondheim.

  The Soviet amphibious group detected on the evening of the 4th had since been subjected to a vigorous assault by Norwegian naval and air forces and JACWA Tornados from the UK. By the 7th it was a much depleted Soviet support group that moved on south to reinforce their paratroop comrades.

  But the fortunes of war turned again to the Russians that morning when their fighters, now operating from Norwegian airfields in the far north, destroyed first one, then in swift succession two more, of the Vulcan MR aircraft providing the vital surveillance of the Norwegian Sea. The Russians were quick to exploit the confusion which gripped, albeit temporarily, JACWA’s coverage of the surface scene.

  On the night of 7 August a NATO submarine reported that, in about the latitude of Trondheim and near the meridian of Greenwich, it had attacked with Harpoon missiles a Soviet force of fast transports escorted by surface ships, on a course which would take it to the Faroe Islands. A V/STOL Harrier III aircraft, one of four carried by the new escort carrier Argus, which had recently joined the First Support Group, had been flown off for a search to the north and west and the Soviet force had been relocated. The NATO submarine, having used up all its missiles, had been unable to destroy more than three of the Soviet ships, one of which was a troop transport. JACWA therefore ordered a strike, with six Tornados, the most that could be mustered, against the Soviet force. This succeeded in damaging another transport and an escort ship. The Soviet force then turned back towards Norway. The battle for the Greenland-Iceland-UK gap had been joined, and NATO had won the first round.

  One feature of the action was the interruption of ship-to-shore, aircraft-to-ship and aircraft-to-shore communications, both Soviet and NATO, resulting from interference with communication satellites. Secondary channels had been used, but a certain amount of luck, on both sides, had proved effective. There might well have been complete loss of control by the respective shore
-based HQs.

  Soviet reaction to the failure of their operation against the Faroes was not long in coming. They had already observed by satellite, and confirmed by air reconnaissance, the approach of the First Support Group and the Norwegian reinforcement convoy. On D + 5, therefore, twenty Backfire maritime strike aircraft were sent to attack the NATO force. Fortunately, owing to Bodo being out of action, these bombers had had to fly from airfields near Murmansk, and their transit had been reported. Some fighters from the UK were therefore able to intercept the second and third waves of Backfires and a total of five were destroyed. Three ships of the NATO troop convoy were hit, one of them sinking, and two ships of the First Support Group were put out of action, including the escort carrier Argus. In consequence, the organic ASW capability of that force, mainly consisting of helicopters, was much diminished. Maritime patrol aircraft were hurriedly transferred from their relentless beat in the Greenland-UK gap, but two Soviet submarines supporting the amphibious group were able nevertheless to get in attacks on the damaged ships, all of which were sunk. A NATO submarine similarly dispatched the damaged ships of the Faroes raiding force.

  Rather more one-sided was the Soviet attack on the North Sea oil and gas installations. Appreciating that the most vulnerable, and least easily defended, elements in the supply from wells to shore were the pipelines on the sea-bed, the Russians had decided to cut these. It was not difficult to do this, except in the southern North Sea, which initially was not readily accessible to the attackers. In the north, six diesel-electric submarines, approaching via the deep water off the Norwegian coast, were deployed to predetermined positions, where they released special underwater manned vehicles, to locate and destroy the twelve most important pipelines. By using delayed action charges, the submarines were able to withdraw without detection.

  Three of them, operating in the shallower areas, also laid mines in the vicinity of the pipelines, where the destruction would occur. Two NATO patrol ships, sent to investigate the explosions on 8 August, struck mines and sank. In order to distract attention from the submarine operations, sporadic air attacks, using stand-off missiles, were carried out on some of the oil and gas rigs themselves. The UK air defences took a heavy toll of the elderly Badgers used by the Russians for these attacks.