by David Crist
Shortly after ten a.m., U.S. intelligence learned that the Iranian missile boat Joshan, about forty nautical miles north of Chandler’s SAG C, had been ordered south to assist their forces at Sirri. The French-built missile boat had a crew of around thirty. Commanded by Captain Abbas Mallek, the Joshan served as an Iranian squadron flagship at Bushehr and was a near legendary boat in the Iranian navy, having executed some of the first attacks on Iraq at the outset of their war, including an attack on Baghdad’s two offshore oil terminals, briefly knocking them out of action. The Joshan packed a powerful punch, in the form of the only remaining American-made Harpoon missile in the Iranian inventory. While no one could determine the missile’s condition or whether it even functioned, its mere existence made American commanders nervous.
As news of the attack on Sirri reached Captain Amir Yeganeh, commander of the 1st Naval District in Bushehr, he immediately ordered Mallek to head south to reinforce Sirri. Mallek had just completed an escort of an Iranian tanker and was steaming leisurely back to her home port of Bushehr. Mallek, like his American counterparts, operated under a set of standing rules of engagement. In fact, the Iranian navy was even stricter than the United States’, specifically prohibiting firing first at a U.S. warship. What exactly Mallek was supposed to do once he confronted U.S. warships at Sirri remained ambiguous, but he ordered his helm hard over, increased speed, and brought his ship on a southerly course toward Sirri and Chandler’s three ships.
The Joshan’s communication with Bandar Abbas was dutifully reported to the Wainwright’s embarked intelligence detachment, whose officer in charge brought the flash message to Chandler in the CIC along with an intelligence packet about the Joshan, including a profile of her captain. Half an hour later, Chandler arrayed his three ships for the impending confrontation.20 He formed his flotilla in a line abreast with the Wainwright to the west, the Bagley in the center, and the Simpson to the east, each separated by three nautical miles—close enough to maintain visual contact with each other but still provide a broad enough electronic triangulation to better fix the Joshan’s location. Heading northeast at twenty-five knots, the Wainwright began a broad weaving movement, zigzagging from side to side to make it harder to hit with an incoming missile.21 Chandler ordered both the Simpson and the Wainwright to put a surface-to-air missile, a Standard Missile 1, or SM-1, up on the missile rails, but set for a surface-to-surface mode. The SM-1 did not pack a large warhead, but was a fast, accurate missile, capable of supersonic speeds. Chandler also sent a helicopter aloft to help locate the Joshan.22 About half an hour later, the helicopter found the missile boat forty miles from the three U.S. warships and closing fast.
He relayed this back to Less, requesting further guidance. Amazingly, he received an unusual order directing him to “warn the Joshan away.”23 In an attempt to save Iranian lives, and perhaps unable to comprehend that any small patrol boat would single-handedly try to take on the full might of the U.S. Navy, Less directed Chandler to tell the Iranian patrol boat to keep her distance. He was caught in the strange condition of being between peace and war; this directive meant that he should try every means to warn the Joshan away. As Captain Chandler later said, “I would have shot him at thirty-five miles had I not been told to warn him away.” The Wainwright raised the Iranian boat on the standard commercial frequency, and Captain Chandler grabbed the microphone: “Iranian patrol frigate,” he began, giving the boat’s location, direction, and speed, “this is United States Navy warship. Do not interfere with my actions. Remain clear or you will be destroyed.”24
Mallek responded in his heavily accented but adequate English. “I am doing my duty,” he said, adding that he was in international waters and “would commit no provocative acts.” All the while the two forces closed at fifty miles an hour.25
Tension mounted both on board the Wainwright and up the chain of command. The Wainwright’s weapons officer, Marty Drake, could not understand why they did not fire. “Sir,” he cautioned, “he’s got the last remaining Harpoon.” But Chandler still had it in his mind that he needed to warn her away, and he maintained this even when the Joshan locked on with its fire control radar.26 Listening in over the net back on the Coronado and in Tampa, Less and Crist grew increasingly concerned. Less liked the idea of giving the Iranians a warning in hopes of sparing lives, but after repeated warnings he wondered why Chandler had not opened fire. General Crist turned to a senior staff officer sitting next to him and asked apprehensively, “Why doesn’t he just blow him out of the water?”
Finally, with only thirteen miles separating the two forces—close enough for the Joshan’s captain to see the Wainwright’s mast peeking just above the horizon—Chandler issued his fourth and final warning to the Joshan: “Stop and abandon ship. I intend to sink you.”27
With this Mallek decided to act. If the Americans were going to attack him, he would not take the first hit. He launched his one Harpoon missile. The U.S. helicopter pilot looking on shouted into his headset microphone, “I see a cloud of white smoke!”28
“Launch chaff!” Lieutenant Drake yelled. It was an unnecessary order, as the petty officer charged with the duty had already pushed the button, sending a plume of aluminum strips into the air. At the same time, the crew initiated electronic countermeasures to jam the Joshan’s radar.29 Chandler immediately ordered his ships to open fire. The Simpson sent a missile streaking back, low and arrow-straight toward the Joshan, leaving a slight trail of white smoke. Onlookers standing on her bridge wings to watch the missile launch scrambled to get back in the ship as the missile left the rail with a deafening roar, coating some with a powdery residue.30
The Iranian Harpoon caught the Wainwright off guard. Her fire control radar had been set in surface-to-surface mode and, perhaps spoofed by all the chaff in the air, had difficulty switching to fixing onto the incoming missile. Drake tried to engage the missile with the ship’s main self-defense system, the 20-mm antimissile weapon, but it would not engage as it was blocked by the captain’s gig. In keeping with standard procedures, the Wainwright’s executive officer on the bridge ordered, “Turn to port!” to unmask her full complement of weapons.
To the amazement of everyone, Chandler countermanded the order, keeping the Wainwright with her bow essentially pointed straight toward the incoming missile. It was a gutsy call. Chandler surmised that, with his weapons out of position, it was better to keep a narrow profile toward the Harpoon, placing his faith in the ship’s chaff and electronic countermeasures to throw off the missile’s seeker.31 The crew braced for impact, many instinctively bending over and putting their heads between their legs, mouths opened and legs crossed—just as they had been taught during training exercises.
With a rumble audible to Drake and the others inside the ship—something akin to a fast-moving train combined with the whoosh of a Fourth of July rocket—the Harpoon missile raced down the starboard side of the cruiser, sending a shudder throughout the ship as the watches topside reported an orange flash fly by the starboard side, barely one hundred feet from the Wainwright.32 Captain Chandler’s decision to keep his ship on a narrow profile had likely saved the ship. The U.S. Navy would not make another similar mistake. The Joshan received the full might of the American navy.
With the American countermissiles inbound, Mallek ordered the Joshan hard to starboard and fired off his own chaff to try to deflect the missile. It may have worked, and the Iranian later reported the first incoming missile missed the Joshan, impacting the water some seventy meters behind his ship. His luck would not last. The next missile found its mark, hitting the Iranian boat squarely, exploding in the boat’s engine room, leaving the Joshan dead in the water. The blast severely injured Mallek, severing one of his legs. The next missile blew away superstructure, tossing Mallek and other crewmen overboard.33 The Wainwright added a missile of her own, and it too slammed into the hapless patrol boat.34 Following yet one more missile, the U.S. helicopter hovering nearby reported back to the Wainwright: “Joshan burni
ng. All superstructure from the bridge to the aft end is on fire.”35 In keeping with the orders, the Americans steered clear, leaving it to the Iranian fishermen to rescue the Joshan’s survivors. In addition to losing his ship, Mallek later reported fifteen men—half his crew—had been killed in the duel with the Americans.
Well over three hours after the United States had attacked, the Iranian military began to stir, albeit in an uncoordinated and piecemeal manner. Iranian military commanders had little information about either U.S. intentions or locations. The Revolutionary Guard, the air force, and the navy did not cooperate with one another.
About the time the Joshan sank beneath the waves, five Iranian small boats stormed out from Abu Musa Island into the neighboring United Arab Emirates’ Mubarak oil fields. They fired rocket-propelled grenades at the main production platform, starting a fire but inflicting no casualties. Next, they set their sights on the hundred-thousand-ton Hong Kong–registered tanker York Marine, used for oil storage by Dubai, spraying her with machine guns and rocket-propelled grenades, before turning their anger at the seven-hundred-ton American-owned supply boat Willie Tide and the small, U.S.-manned Panamanian portable drilling rig Scan Bay.36 Their mission complete, the Iranian Boghammers returned to Abu Musa for their crews to eat, celebrate, and rearm.
Iranian jets took off out of the airfield at Bandar Abbas. The commander of Tactical Fighter Base 9, Colonel A. Zowghi, was outmatched. Only five of his eleven F-4 fighters could fly, and his entire command was distracted by grief, having lost a number of pilots and airmen in an accidental C-130 crash three days earlier. Zowghi held out little hope for his assignment; he knew the capabilities of the U.S. Navy, and if Washington wanted a fight, his pilots would do their duty, but he would be digging more graves.
The Iranian F-4s scrambled from Bandar Abbas and made several attempts to venture out over the Persian Gulf. Immediately detected, U.S. Tomcat fighters were vectored in to engage. The Iranian aircraft immediately turned back toward the Iranian mainland, not wishing to tangle with the U.S. fighters. This cat-and-mouse game repeated itself several times, but each time the Iranian pilots turned away or refused to leave the safety of the Iranian airspace.
Finally, one Iranian pilot decided to take his chances, and peeled off and headed out into the Gulf.37 Chandler made two attempts to warn it away, but as it continued to close on his ship, Chandler opened fire with a surface-to-air missile. It appeared to miss, so Chandler immediately ordered another fired. No sooner had the second missile left the rail when the F-4 suddenly dropped altitude and its airspeed went from five hundred to two hundred knots as the Wainwright detected “bloom” on her radar, a clear indication of a missile detonation.38 The first missile had in fact found its mark, blowing off part of one wing and peppering the fuselage with shrapnel. The second missile missed, but not by much, as the Iranian pilot later reported seeing the missile’s impact in the water next to him. Amazingly, with one engine knocked out and his plane in tatters, the pilot regained control and managed to land his stricken aircraft at the Bandar Abbas airport, a credit to both a skilled pilot and the hearty construction of the American-built Phantom.39
In the headquarters of the 1st Naval District at Bandar Abbas, the full magnitude of the American attack finally hit the navy commander, Captain Amir Yeganeh. He decided to sortie the bulk of his fleet, including both the Sahand and the Sabalan, and possibly a third, older, World War II–era U.S.-built destroyer. Yeganeh directed the Sahand to attack the UAE-owned Saleh oil field, a largely automated complex consisting of eight platforms manned by only seven employees, which lay approximately halfway between the Mubarak oil fields where the Boghammers had run amok and the Strait of Hormuz.40 Unfortunately for Yeganeh, his American opposite learned of his move and immediately passed this information down to Dyer’s force and to the Enterprise battle group.
As ordered, at twelve thirty the Sahand got under way and headed out from Bandar Abbas, past an anchorage of rusting junk ships and nearby islands, and then out into the confined waters of the Strait of Hormuz. The Sahand’s commanding officer, Captain Shahrokhfar, displayed an uncharacteristic aggressiveness for his country’s naval officers, and with orders to attack the economic interests of Iraq’s supporters, his ship was the first to sortie. A U.S. aircraft picked up Shahrokhfar’s ship as it passed Larak Island, making twenty-five knots as it headed for the Saleh oil field.41
Aboard the Enterprise, news of the Iranian fleet’s leaving Bandar Abbas was met with relief and jubilation. The crews standing by all day in the ready room had endured several false starts that morning, and frustrated pilots began to lose hope that the Iranians would ever venture out. When they learned that an Iranian ship, likely the Sahand but perhaps her sister ship, the Sabalan, had been detected rounding Larak Island, Bud Langston got his jet and took off to try to find the Iranian frigate, as the steam catapult of the carrier’s flight deck sent his A-6 aloft headed for the Strait of Hormuz.
Tony Less directed Dyer’s force to establish a blocking position to protect the Saleh oil field from the impending Iranian onslaught. General quarters sounded and the crew rushed once again to their battle stations. Dyer turned his force around again, heading north, and arranged his three ships in a line abreast, with some five miles separating the warships. He put another helicopter up to help fix the location of the Iranian frigate.
Intelligence about the Iranians’ movements came streaming in, allowing Admiral Less to again stay one step ahead to counter their moves. The navy had positioned a Farsi linguist on an EA-6B to eavesdrop on the Iranian Revolutionary Guards, who used rather unsophisticated and unencrypted handheld radios.42 All this flowed back into an intelligence fusion cell on board the Coronado, where officers worked to piece together Iranian intentions. This revealed another impending Iranian Revolutionary Guard small-boat attack at the Mubarak oil field.
Four aircraft from the USS Enterprise were inside the Gulf. The flight consisted of two F-14 fighters for top cover and two A-6s—designated Lizard 503 and 507—each manned by two pilots and armed with an array of missiles and bombs. The lead pilot was Lieutenant Commander James Engler. With the call sign “Jingles” reflecting his love of piano playing, he lacked some of Bud Langston’s combat experience, but had a deserved reputation as a bright officer and a competent flight lead; he was also one of the air group’s more experienced officers. His wingman in Lizard 507 was Lieutenant Paul Webb, call sign “Jack” for his no-nonsense, “just the facts, ma’am” personality. Dyer requested that Engler and Webb come down toward Abu Musa Island to look for Iranian Boghammers who had fired on the UAE oil field.43
The rules of engagement, however, did not allow for preemptive action; U.S. forces were allowed to respond only in self-defense. Less requested permission to engage the Iranian boats. In turn the request went to the White House and National Security Adviser Colin Powell. He had already called the president once, having awakened him at five in the morning to report the successful taking of Sirri and Sassan. Otherwise, Reagan remained remarkably disengaged from the process, leaving it up to Powell to monitor the war. The action requested, however, could not be approved by anyone but the president. “Let me check,” Powell replied. He picked up another secure phone and called Reagan in the Oval Office. After Powell briefly explained the situation, Reagan responded without hesitating, “Do it.” The entire process took ten minutes.44
The timing could not have been better for the Americans. Engler could clearly see four white streaks highlighted on the blue water below, headed directly toward a nearby UAE oil platform. Engler dove down at four hundred knots and set his sights on the lead of the four Boghammers, the one closest to the platform. He released two Mk-20 Rockeyes, the clamshell-shaped canisters each holding 247 dart-shaped bomblets designed to detonate on impact.45 Banking hard, he looked back and could clearly see the Rockeyes descending all around the Boghammer, but none found its mark. The Boghammer jerked to and fro at fifty miles an hour in a desperate bid to thro
w off the Americans, the Iranian occupants looking up anxiously at the two American planes circling above. Lieutenant Webb tried hitting the small, fast-moving speedboat with a five-hundred-pound laser-guided bomb. A near impossibility: it landed close, but behind the Iranian speedboat, sending up a tower of white water but failing to damage the boat. Now it was Engler’s turn again; he came in low and dropped his remaining three Rockeyes. This time at least one of the bomblets found its mark, and as the A-6 pulled away, the Boghammer sank, carrying its occupants down to the bottom of the Persian Gulf.46
Meanwhile, Bud Langston’s aircraft arrived over the Strait of Hormuz looking for the Iranian frigates headed south out of Bandar Abbas.47 As he described it, “It was one of those milk-bowl days, where you could see straight down but visibility was obscured looking off in the distance.” Looking down, Langston saw the unmistakable white wake of a ship. He relayed back, with “90 percent assurance,” that he’d located an Iranian frigate, five nautical miles southwest of Larak Island headed due south at twenty-five knots.48
