by Clancy, Tom
Their reconstruction of the target courses and torpedo courses proved almost conclusively that the two Alfas had suffered one hit apiece. As for the remaining Chinese torpedoes, in their professional opinion either the 53cm torpedo explosion had destroyed them or they had run themselves to exhaustion while circling Cheyenne’s countermeasures. The torpedoes, once decoyed, would have waited for the countermeasures to exhibit some doppler—something they had been programmed not to do.
In keeping with his policies, Captain Mackey used the 1MC to inform the entire crew of the reconstructed results of their battle. This time, he told them, the Chinese commander-in-chief’s orders had helped Cheyenne. The Alfas had been more intent on the kill than on their own survival. But next time... well, he didn’t want there to be a next time.
From now on, he told them, Cheyenne would launch her torpedoes at longer ranges, shooting on towed-array bearing solutions whenever possible. In fact, he added, he was contemplating shooting with the section fire-control tracking parties if need be. Mack had no desire to be rammed by the crazy Chinese COs on a vendetta and who apparently had no respect for their own men’s lives. With what he knew of the Chinese, he could only assume that they figured posthumous glory was better than returning to a firing squad.
The crew was silent after the captain finished talking on the 1MC. Each and every man on board Cheyenne realized that this could be a long war unless they put more rounds into the Chinese, both above and beneath the surface of the sea, and they couldn’t help wondering when Columbia and Bremerton would be sent to help. Being kept informed was the name of the game on board Cheyenne, and the executive officer had passed on the sister ship information at quarters prior to getting under way.
Cheyenne’s second patrol area was located two hundred nautical miles south-southeast of Macclesfield Bank, a spot that shoaled rapidly from over two thousand fathoms to depths of less than forty feet. The transit there was fast and silent and uneventful.
On arrival near the southwest corner of the area, the captain ordered the OOD to launch an SSXBT. This submarine bathythermograph device was designed to rise to the surface and then drop to the bottom, collecting data on temperature versus depth information through the water column. The SSXBT would send this data back over a thin wire, similar to the torpedo guidance wire, to an onboard recorder in the control room. The information from the SSXBT would be input to the BSY-1 for use by the sonar and fire-control systems. It also would provide layer depth information so that Cheyenne could effectively hide beneath the layer, or even a second, deeper layer.
Mack had not had time upon arrival in the first patrol area to obtain the SSXBT information. Cheyenne had encountered the two Alfas too quickly. But that wouldn’t be the case this time. He was planning the long-range shots now, and the information collected by the SSXBT would be vital to their accuracy. Cheyenne would get more SSXBT information at other locations, just in case horizontal gradients were present that could significantly affect the fire-control solution.
Three of the four planned SSXBT “shots” had been completed when the OOD informed the captain that sonar had gained weak, but slowly closing, Alfa-like tonal contacts to the north, possibly three separate contacts.
Mack acknowledged the information, but he didn’t like what it meant. These contacts couldn’t have been the Alfas from the south, so Russia really was dumping nuclear attack submarines on China.
Minutes later, while he was talking with the executive officer outside the exec’s stateroom, the OOD told Mack over the exec’s sound-powered phone that he had incoming flash VLF traffic over the floating wire. Mack and the executive officer proceeded to the radio room forward of the control room.
Bad timing, Mack thought as he read the message. As if the inbound Alfas weren’t enough, Cheyenne had just received orders to prepare to launch their Tomahawks. To do that, they would have to proceed to periscope depth to copy the IPAC Tomahawk targeting data over SSIXS.
Mack didn’t like it. Ideally, they would do that quickly, get to periscope depth, copy lengthy SSIXS traffic, and get back down before they lost the long-range shot advantage against the Alfas. Unfortunately, this situation was far from ideal. Launch directives were also coming in over the floating wire, and those launch directives wouldn’t allow him that luxury. Cheyenne was to remain at periscope depth and launch all twelve missiles as soon as the download was complete and pre-Palawan Island waypoints had been inserted into the CCS Mk 2 console.
Mack didn’t like it, but his orders didn’t give him any choice. Wasting no time, he ordered the OOD to take Cheyenne up to periscope depth.
As soon as Cheyenne started copying the targeting data, the captain ordered, “Man battle stations, missile,” then explained the situation to the crew. Cheyenne was to launch the TLAM-Cs to take out aircraft on the ground before they moved from their current revetments. She was also to launch the TLAM-Ds to crater the new runways so additional fighter aircraft, the SU-27 Flankers, could not be so quickly repositioned from the Paracels.
This was a one-shot opportunity. The Chinese would be asleep when the missiles reached their targets—they didn’t like to fly at night any more than the ex-Soviet pilots did. And the attack had to take place tonight because the Fleet Numerical Weather Center was projecting rainsqualls for the next two days, starting before daybreak.
The captain also prepared the crew for possible attack by the incoming Alfas. The noise of the VLS launches would not go undetected by them. And in addition, if there were surface ships and aircraft with the submarines, the booster rockets’ last-minute illumination of the darkness would provide them with Cheyenne’s location, the proverbial “flaming datum” with Cheyenne at the wrong end of the weapon’s track.
It was a dangerous mission, no doubt about it. And, if they were unlucky, it would be more than merely dangerous. It could be deadly.
The combat systems officer at the CCS Mk 2 reported that he had completed powering up each missile, downloaded the mission plans and flight profile, and verified proper weapon receipt of the data. He had then powered down the missiles until the captain was ready to start the automatic launch sequence. All plans and Cheyenne’s launch location fit the mission parameters, especially the range of flight to the airfields and the initial waypoint prior to Palawan Island TERCOM and DSMAC updates. Flight time would be just in excess of two hours.
“Firing point procedures, TLAM-C and TLAM-D, VLS tubes five through sixteen,” ordered the captain. The open mike heads-up to sonar and the short delay as the combat systems officer reapplied power to the missiles, inserted the launch key, and pressed the firing button, gave the sonar operators time to prepare their ears for the six to seven minutes of noise that would follow.
Mack wasn’t worried about that, though. He was worried that the noise would start those three Alfas cavitating toward Cheyenne. Sonar wouldn’t be able to hear that cavitation, but then it wouldn’t have to. Mack knew they’d be coming, and they’d be coming fast.
The hatch of VLS tube five opened hydraulically, freeing the interlock to detonate an explosive charge. The first TLAM-C burst upward through the thin plastic membrane of the loading canister that had helped to keep the missile dry until now.
The TLAM-C covered the short trip to the surface, less than thirty feet away, quickly. Just before the missile broached the surface, its booster rocket fired, drying quickly as it cleared the water.
The booster rocket used up the last of its fuel and the missile pitched down closer to the horizontal. Dropping its spent booster, the TLAM-C started its non-illuminating turbojet engine, accelerating to over five hundred knots as it turned toward the first waypoint.
On board Cheyenne, tube five backfilled with water to compensate for the loss of the ejected missile’s weight and then the hatch shut automatically. That freed the interlock for VLS tube six.
One down, and only eleven more to go, Mack thought. For once he was grateful for the relative slowness of submarines. Even the Alfa’s 40 knots were nothin
g compared to the Tomahawks.
The launch sequence seemed to take forever, but the Alfas were able to close the noisy datum by only four nautical miles. By the time the Chinese submarines had closed an additional two miles, Cheyenne had already secured periscope depth operations and had proceeded deep beneath the second layer. There she slowed, tracking the three noisy Alfas, still at battle stations and readying all four torpedo tubes, including opening the outer doors on tubes one and two.
The Chinese submarines had run too fast for too long. When they finally slowed to listen, the sounds of the Tomahawk launches had ceased.
Cheyenne, too, had lost most of her contacts. Due to the range, she had lost all but tonal contact on the towed array when the Chinese slowed. Which was just what Mack had intended. The Alfa class SSN had no towed array, so they couldn’t gain tonal contact on the extremely quiet Cheyenne.
It was now a waiting game, and Mack knew the game was rigged. The smart thing would have been for the Alfas to slow and attempt to reacquire Cheyenne, but they didn’t have that choice. Under their new rules of engagement, Mack knew that they would continue to close on Cheyenne’s last datum... which would bring them right into Mk 48 ADCAP range.
The three Alfas were approaching within range, running at fifty meters’ depth, abreast of one another and only four thousand yards apart. Mack waited awhile longer. He had six torpedoes planned for them, and he could afford to wait.
Cheyenne fired tubes one and two-first, at a range of 25,000 yards, with both torpedoes initially running in slow speed. At 18,000 yards, Mack ordered tubes three and four fired, with the torpedoes initially running in medium speed. At 10,000 yards, Cheyenne launched two more torpedoes from the reloaded tubes one and two after cutting the guidance wires to the first two from these tubes, which had still been communicating their search data, on track for intercept. These last torpedoes, the second set from tubes one and two, started their journey at high speed. The result of this salvo was that all six would arrive within their acquisition cone ranges at slightly staggered intervals, and with full depth and azimuthal coverage.
Sonar reported the first two torpedoes increasing speed, signifying acquisition. Minutes later, three of the other four acquired targets, passing the good news over their guidance wires.
On board the Alfas, the Chinese were dumbfounded as the ocean in front of them turned from silence into the nerve-racking, high-frequency pinging of attacking torpedoes. Even their prearranged depth excursions and course changes to prevent their own mutual interference were to no avail.
The oncoming torpedoes had passed through both thermal layers and were already locked on, refusing to be fooled by the myriad of noisemakers launched by the fleeing Chinese SSNs. The circuitry of the ADCAP torpedoes allowed them to “see through” the noisemaker jamming, and to remain locked on their intended targets.
It was over within minutes. All three Alfas had been damaged severely, forcing them to emergency-blow to the surface. Two of them never made it. In those two, seawater leaking through the broken engine room piping caused such an up angle that water filled the steam piping. With the turbine generators damaged by the water from the steam generator, their reactors lost power and shut down.
The two dead Alfas sank stern first to the bottom, more than 12,000 feet below.
Cheyenne returned to periscope depth to report the successful Tomahawk launch and the attack on the Chinese Alfas. Although it seemed like forever, less than two hours had passed since their launch. The missiles were still flying in single file, having completed the final DSMAC updates shortly before, and were now relying on GPS updates during the overwater ingress to the airfields.
Cheyenne and her crew would have to wait for the bomb damage assessment (BDA) to learn the results of the attacks—and they might have to wait a long time. If the rainsqualls precluded the satellite imagery for a number of days, the BDA would not be able to be sent to them via message traffic during the four-day patrol in their third patrol area. If that happened, they would have to wait for their return to alongside McKee.
Cheyenne’s SSIXS traffic was receipted for, so Captain Mackey directed the ship below the layer for the short transit to the third patrol area. Located to the northeast of the shoal areas and southwest of Subic Bay, this had been a refit site for U.S. and allied non-nuclear submarines until 1992. This patrol was designed to ensure that Chinese submarines would not try to interdict the arrival of the floating drydock, Arco.
After its rest stop in Yokosuka following the long open ocean tow, Arco would be towed southward, west of the Philippines, to meet up with McKee. Its course would be through the Sulu Sea, away from possible Chinese submarines, which were still swarming in and around the Spratlys.
During the few sane moments aboard Cheyenne, afforded by wardroom meals between battle stations, one of the topics of interest among the crew had been the newly instituted political talks between the United States and the Philippines. As one of the original claimants to the contested Spratly Islands, the Philippine government was now showing their appreciation for the submarine war being waged by Cheyenne. They had earlier agreed, in a secret Navy summit at CINCPACFLT’s headquarters in Makalapa, to the Tomahawk missile flights over Palawan. Not that it would have made any difference, since the missiles would have been programmed to overfly Palawan anyway. Nevertheless, not having to deal with interfering Philippine aircraft ensured there would not be any international bickering over the flight path.
The crystal-balling by some of the Cheyenne junior officers included bets that the Philippines would offer to reopen Subic Bay, at least for the duration of the war against China’s submarines and encroaching warships and aircraft. If the price were right—for free—then the United States might even agree.
Mack listened to his officers with interest. He knew that putting Arco in Subic Bay would provide a nuclear repair capability closer to Cheyenne’s current patrol area. Of course, if they did that, then they would be farther away from Cheyenne’s next war patrol assignment and her patrol areas south of the Spratlys.
Mack grinned to himself and shrugged. Pay now or pay later, he thought. In the end, though, it didn’t really matter. Arco or no Arco, SEALs or no SEALs, Cheyenne would go where she was ordered and carry out the orders she was given.
9.
The Fourth Patrol: From Russia with Love
The third patrol area was quiet. Cheyenne detected no submarines during her short duration patrol. Which was good, Mack thought. It gave his officers and crew the opportunity to catch up on their paperwork. More important, the respite allowed the newest crew members to finally complete their submarine qualification check-outs with the designated subsystem experts.
Before reaching that stage, each enlisted man had to complete certain at sea and in port watch-stander qualifications required by his department—engineering, weapons, or operations. Qualification boards for the enlisted were held in the “goat locker,” the chief petty officer (CPO) lounge, mess area, and bunk room, all rolled into one small, but cozy space.
These qualification boards were run by several of Cheyenne’s senior personnel. The top two were the chief of the boat (COB), who was also the master chief petty officer of the command, and Cheyenne’s qualification officer, the combat systems officer. The qualification officer was responsible to the executive officer, in the executive officer’s role as the ship’s training officer, for ensuring the timely submarine qualification of each and every enlisted man. The rest of the qualification boards were made up of selected qualification petty officers, the designated subsystem experts, and the individual candidate’s leading petty officer and division officer.
Once this board made its recommendation to the executive officer, Mack was always quick to hold a ceremony in the crew’s mess. He enjoyed pinning the coveted silver dolphins on each sailor’s uniform, conferring the right for the crewman to add “SS” to his official title.
Officer qualification in submarines included qualification
as engineering officer of the watch (EOOW) and officer of the deck, as well as the in port engineering duty officer (EDO) and ship’s duty officer responsibilities. These required the captain’s certification, as did other senior enlisted watch stations.
Other officer qualifications included candidates for engineer officer of a nuclear-powered ship. Completion of this was generally put on hold during wars because the candidate officer was unable to return to Washington, D.C., to be interviewed by the head of Navy Nuclear Propulsion, NAVSEA 08.
For the officers, the same qualification petty officers checked out the candidates, as did the responsible department heads. Once the senior watch officer and the navigator, who was Cheyenne’s third senior officer, made their recommendation to the executive officer and captain, a qualification board was held in the wardroom.
The reward for these officer qualifications were the much rarer and even more coveted gold dolphins, which designated the officer as “submarine warfare qualified.” After Cheyenne’s most recent war patrols, Mack felt that all her hands had earned this designation, and he was pleased that they had gotten the chance to catch up on this.
In addition to catching up on paperwork and officer qualifications, the respite also gave Mack the chance to have his junior officers practice their surfacing and diving of the submarine. But Mack didn’t let that go too far. This was war, after all, and there was always the chance that some of those pesky Chinese Kilo SSKs were lurking about, so he instructed his junior officers to only simulate blowing the main ballast tanks. That restriction kept Cheyenne safe, and it didn’t affect the quality of their practice at all.
Mack wasn’t worried about their knowledge. He knew that they had learned, at least on a theoretical level, how to handle the boat. All the officers on Cheyenne were nuclear trained—training which had required all officers to complete Nuclear Power School in Orlando, Florida, along with training at one of the reactor prototypes, either in West Milton, New York; Arco, Idaho; or Windsor, Connecticut. This training had taken a year to complete, and it was so intense that they’d had to memorize volumes of information that, when stacked on top of each other, easily reached over six feet high. And it didn’t end there. It was followed by a stint at the Naval Submarine School in Groton, Connecticut.
