Fatal Terrain

by Dale Brown

  "You will be ready to fly tonight?"

  "With any luck, yes," Patrick said. "We.need assistance

  from your aircraft maintenance troops to help turn the bomber

  and to upload the weapons. Can we count on assistance from

  your flight crews to help in mission planning?"

  "You may count on us for anything you desire," Hsiao said

  happily. "You truly are the new Flying Tigers, my friends. In

  374 DALE BROWN

  fact, my F- 1 6 flight crews request the honor of accompanying

  you on your first raid."

  "That would be excellent, sir," Patrick said. "We'll be

  lightly loaded taking off from here, so we can use some extra

  firepower. Have your pilots ever done any aerial refueling?"

  "Only in simulators, Colonel McLanahan," Hsiao said.

  "Well, I've heard that doing it for real is easier than the

  simulator, so your crews will be refueling tonight," Patrick

  said. "Our transport jet is configured as a tanker. We have the

  latest intelligence data-it's a few hours old, but I think it'll

  be useful for tonight. We'll see about getting our own Sky

  Masters recon and targeting satellite up in the next day or so.

  Let's get to work, everybody. We'll be launching in about

  twelve hours."

  "THE GENERAL WHO ADVANCES

  WITHOUT COVETING FAME AND

  RETREATS WITHOUT FEARING

  DISGRACE, WHOSE ONLY THOUGHT

  IS TO PROTECT HIS COUNTRY

  AND DO GOOD SERVICE FOR

  HIS SOVEREIGN, IS THE JEWEL OF

  THE KINGDOM."

  -Sun-Tzu,

  The Art of War

  BANDAR-ABBASs NAVAL BASE, ISLAMIC

  REPUBLIC OF IRAN

  TUESDAY, 24 JUNE 1997, 2121 HOURS LOCAL

  (1251 HOURS ET)

  "Here it comes," the sonar opera ' tor aboard the Los Angeles-

  class nuclear-powered attack submarine USS Miami reported.

  He flipped open the intercom channel: "Bridge, sonar, target

  alpha is in the channel, bearing three-one-four, range six thou-

  sand yards, speed six knots."

  The first officer acknowledged the call, then rang the captain

  in his quarters. "Skipper, the Taregh's moving." The captain

  joined his first officer on the twelve-year-old, 7,000-ton sub-

  marine's bridge a few moments later.

  11 Sonar, what d'ya have?" the captain ordered.

  "Positive contact, sir," the sensor operator said. The WLR-

  9/12 acoustic emission receiver/processor suite was an exten-

  sive computerized system that in effect "pointed" the sensor

  operator to a particular sound picked up from the myriad of

  375

  376 DALE BROWN

  noises from the sea, allowed the sensor operator to scan the

  suspect, fine-tuned the sound, and attempted to identify it.

  "Target alpha's coming out of Bandar-Abbass, heading south.

  She's making noise, probably getting ready to blow her

  tanks.

  The captain took a deep breath in anticipation. For the past

  several weeks, their only assigned target had been staying

  close to home-but now it was on the move, and that probably

  spelled'trouble. "Target alpha" was the Taregh, which meant

  "Morning Star--the Islamic Republic of Iran's first attack

  submarine. Purchased from Russia in September 1992, the

  Taregh had sent the world into a tailspin by introducing yet

  another advanced weapon system into the hands of an aggres-

  sive, fundamentalist Islamic nation in the Persian Gulf.

  Although the Iranians had purchased a second Kilo-class

  sub from Russia and were threatening to buy more, the threat

  of Iran filling the Persian Gulf with attack subs, and thereby

  threatening nearly half of the world's oil supply, had never

  come to pass. The Taregh had never ventured far from Bandar-

  Abbass and had spent most of its time cruising the Strait of

  Hormuz and the Gulf of Oman between Bandar-Abbass and

  its as-yet-uncompleted home port of Chah Bahar.

  Since the recent conflict between the United States and Iran,

  the United States had assigned one nuclear-powered attack sub

  to monitor the Taregh's whereabouts. Fortunately, the Taregh

  had proven to be an easy shadowing assignment-while Iran's

  aircraft carrier Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini had been busy

  attacking other Gulf states during the brief naval and air skir-

  mishes in the area, Iran's attack subs had played no part. The

  Miami had simply stationed itself in the Strait of Hormuz just

  outside Bandar-Abbass, concealed by the noise of the hundreds

  of ships crowding the channel, and waited. While stationed in

  the Strait, the crew of the Miami had been able to extend its

  antennas and collect vast amounts of information on the Ira-

  nian fleet's deployment, and occasionally intercept important

  communications from fleet headquarters. But their primary as-

  signment, the Taregh, had always been a nonplayer, stuck in

  port except for brief cruises and exercises. During the U.-

  Iran crisis, the United States and its Persian Gulf allies had not

  been flying anti-submarine patrols over the Strait of Hormuz,

  Persian Gulf, or Gulf of Oman, which meant that, if it was not

  shadowed as soon as it left port, the Taregh could sneak out

  FATAL T ER RAI N 377

  of the Strait and make its way into the Persian Gulf itself,

  where it would be much harder to detect and track, and it could

  lay waste to all commercial shipping traffic heading in or out

  of the Persian Gulf.

  "Looks like we're going sailing," the captain announced.

  He ordered that the ship be made ready to answer bells im-

  mediately. Thirty minutes later, the Miami pulled out into the

  Strait for the first time in almost four weeks.

  Tailing the Taregh was easy as long as it was on the surface.

  Other vessels got out of its way, so it traveled a straight course,

  and its large, blunt nose and wide hull meant that it had to

  chum out a lot of rpms from its big six-bladed propeller just

  to maintain steerageway. The Taregh was escorted by two tug-

  boats as it left the crowded naval base and headed south to-

  ward the center of the Strait of Hormuz; one tugboat eventually

  dropped away as the channel traffic cleared. The tugboat

  would also help mask the Miami's noise. The captain of the

  Miami ordered the distance increased to 12,000 yards, almost

  seven miles-the maximum useful range of his passive sonar

  system.

  The Taregh finally made its dive at the absolute worst place

  its skipper could pick-at the narrowest and shallowest part

  of the Strait, between Bandar-Abbass and the eastern tip of

  Qeshm Island. The shallower water restricted the Miami to less

  than periscope depth. The Taregh was making minimum steer-

  agewa

  y even while submerged, and now it was getting more

  difficult for the Miami to maintain course at the slower speed.

  Channel traffic was increasing as well. Qeshm Island was a

  busy petroleum drilling and refining area, and commercial-

  vessel traffic was heavy all day, and all night in this area. The

  Miami maintained 12,000 yards' distance from the T
aregh,

  even when the Iranian attack sub seemed as if it was barely

  moving.

  It suddenly seemed as if the Taregh was getting a lot of

  visitors-large, slow-moving vessels flitting nearby, centered

  generally over the sub. It was unlikely that the Iranian navy

  would allow onlookers to get within a mile of one of its subs.

  "What in hell are those things?" the captain muttered. "Ser-

  vice vessels? Supply vessels?"

  "Shit, it's going to turn around," the first officer said, as

  they waited. "Something on the tub broke, they can't fix it,

  and they're going to turn around and head back to the barn."

  378 DALE BROWN

  "We're not that lucky," the skipper said. "That'll cut our

  patrol time down, that's for sure. Who the hell knows? We'll

  maintain our distance until he starts motoring."

  They did not have to wait long-soon, the Taregh started

  to pick up speed, now reaching twelve knots, and the skipper

  ordered the Miami back on the pursuit. With the steam turbines

  running at a more comfortable speed, the Miami felt steadier

  and more seaworthy in the shallow waters, and the skipper

  even began to relax a bit, although he wouldn't relax com-

  pletely until they were safely out of Iranian waters, out of the

  Strait of Hormuz, and out of this weird, unfriendly water. The

  warm, dirt-laden, polluted salt water of the Strait of Hormuz

  always played havoc with sensors, and it was harder to main-

  tain depth and control, roll and yaw. But the Taregh was start-

  ing to move faster, now above fifteen knots, and the faster

  they went, the steadier the ol' Miami-

  "Bridge, helm."

  The skipper clicked open the intercom: "Bridge, go."

  "We've got a problem. Recommend emergency stop."

  "All stop," the skipper said immediately-when the quar-

  termaster at the helm suggests an emergency maneuver, you

  make it and sort out the problem later. "I hope it's your imag-

  ination. On my way." He arrived at the sub's helm station as

  fast as he could. Both diving plane helmsmen had their arms

  extended full out, and they appeared to be struggling with the

  airplane-like control wheels; the quartermaster standing be-

  tween them was watching the navigation and performance in-

  struments, while technicians were checking the hydraulic,

  pneumatic, and electrical panels. "What in hell's going on?"

  "I think we snagged something," the quartermaster said, in

  a quiet, exasperated voice. "Lots of pressure on the controls,

  and we're losing response."

  "Shit," the skipper said. "Back two-thirds." The skipper

  waited until their speed through the water had decreased to

  zero, then ordered, "All stop. Rudder amidships."

  "All stop. Rudder amidships, aye ... sir, my rudder is amid-

  ships," the helmsmen responded.

  The Miami had a closed-circuit zoom TV camera in a pres-

  sure vessel on the top of the sail, and the captain and quarter-

  master studied the picture. Sure enough, a large black net had

  completely enveloped the nose of the submarine. The net was

  huge-it engulfed the entire front of the sub all the way from

  FATAL TER RA I N 379

  the nose up to the sail. Swiveling the camera athwartship, they

  saw the net covering the sailplanes; aiming the camera aft, the

  net was angled upward away from the rudder and propeller,

  but was even now starting to drift down toward the stem. The

  top of the net could not be seen, but it appeared to extend far

  beyond camera range, even possibly to the surface.

  "I think we're caught in a damned drift net," the quarter-

  master muttered. "It's got to be a thousand feet long and two

  hundred feet high, at least. Japanese drift nets are dozens of

  miles long sometimes."

  "That's impossible-you can't stop a seven-thousand-ton

  submarine with a nylon net," the captain remarked. "Besides,

  what's a damned drift net doing in a big ship channel? Who

  would ... ?" The skipper answered his own question: the Ira-

  nians were hunting for American submarines. "Let's get a

  diving team suited up and ready to assist if needed. It looks

  like the stem's still clear-let's see if we can back out of this

  thing. Helm, all back slow."

  But it was too late. As they began to try to extract them-

  selves from the drift net, the top of the net began to sink even

  faster, and minutes later, the rudder and propeller appeared to

  be covered by the net. "Damn, the net's in the prop," the

  captain muttered.

  "That'll be the end of the net, then, sir," the quartermaster

  said. "Our prop would break even a steel cable net." But he

  was wrong. Instead of slicing the net up into pieces, the net

  simply began winding itself around the propeller blades.

  "What in hell ... all stop, all stop!" the captain ordered.

  "Christ, what in hell is that net made of? Helm, all ahead

  slow, let's see if we can kick that net clear." But it was no

  use-the net was completely fouling the propeller. "Dammit,

  dammit ... all right, looks like we've got to put the divers over

  the side," the captain said. "Once we cut the prop free, we'll

  go as close to the bottom as we can and try to turn north and

  sail out the side of the net." He flipped on the ship-wide in-

  tercom: "Attention all hands, this is the captain. Looks like

  we're caught in a big drift net. Chief of the boat, report to the

  helm, stand by to deploy diver salvage team."

  "Bridge, sonar, heavy high-speed screws bearing three-two-

  zero, range eight thousand yards and closing fast. Large patrol

  vessel or small corvette or frigate. I'm picking up a patrol

  helicopter flying low over the water, too." Moments later, they

  380 DALE BROWN

  heard the first active pings of a sonobuoy dropped just a few

  hundred yards away-the search for the trapped sub had be-

  gun. The next several sonobuoys were much closer-they had

  been pinpointed. The patrol vessel was soon joined by several

  more, all converging on their location.

  The captain's jaw dropped open in surprise. Not only was

  this not a random, unlucky accident-it now appeared to be

  an intentionally set trap. The Iranians had deployed some kind

  of unbreakable net in the ship channel right behind their attack

  submarine Taregh, and they had snagged themselves an Amer-

  ican attack Submarine.

  "I think the fuckers found us," the captain said. He hit an

  intercom button: "Comm, this is the captain. Deploy the sat-

  ellite antenna buoy, send a distress signal immediately."

  The antenna buoy had reached the surface and was trans-

  mitting for about three minutes when the first depth charge

  was launched fi-om the Iranian fiigate and splashed into the

  water over the trapped American Sub.

  GOVERNMENT HOUSE, BEIJING,

  PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF CHINA

  WEDNESDAY, 25 JUNE 1997, 0301 HOURS LOCAL

  (TUESDAY, 24 JUNE, 1401 HOURS ET)

  The Central Military Commission meeting broke into loud

  cheers and uncharacteristically hear
ty applause as the members

  watched their TV monitors. The CNN "Early Prime" news

  broadcast from the United States-practically all TV sets in

  Government House had been tuned to CNN twenty-four hours

  a day since the conflict with Taiwan had begun--opened with

  video taken from Iranian navy sailors in the Strait of Hormuz

  South of Bandar-Abbass. They showed an American nuclear-

  powered attack submarine on the surface, covered with an im-

  mense net in which they had become entangled while spying

  on the naval facilities near Bandar-Abbass. Iranian warships

  surrounded the sub, with dozens of guns of all sizes trained

  on the helpless American warship and its crew, who had been

  forced to surrender after a massive depth-charge barrage, and

  who were now kneeling up on the sub's deck, hands on top

  FATAL TERRAIN 381

  of their heads. The video was being transmitted directly from

  Iranian vessels to the Islamic Republic News Agency offices

  in Tehran, where CNN had a news bureau, and from there the

  Iranians allowed the live video uplinked directly to the United

  States for rebroadcast in the middle of the afternoon in the

  United States and in "prime time" in Europe.

  Proudest of all in the room was Admiral Sun Ji Guoming

  himself. After leading the successful bombing raids against

  Chinese Taipei-and performing the secret missile attack

  against North and South Korea, which only a few members of

  President Jiang's command post staff knew about:--he had re-

  turned like a conquering hero to Beijing to receive the praise

  and gratitude of Paramount Leader Jiang Zemin and the entire

  Politburo of the Chinese Communist Party. But this latest ac-

  tion was icing on the cake-the ignoble capture of an Amer-

  ican attack sub well within Iranian territorial waters.

  Sun was proud because he had suggested the trap. He had

  devised a plan years ago to use huge drift nets made of Kevlar,

  as light as nylon but stronger than steel, to try to trap enemy

  submarines. Each net cost millions of yuan to make, but Iran,

  North Korea, and several other nations were happy to make

  the investment. It was simply a matter of patience: creating an