by M. L. Maki
Spike returns his salute, “We’re good. I only squeezed off, maybe a dozen rounds. Could use two more 7s, though.”
“On it, ma’am. We’ll have you in the air in a jiffy.”
COMBAT, USS FIFE
1050, 20 MARCH, 1942
The XO, Commander Brewster Flanagan, is sitting in the TAO chair listening to the subdued chatter around him. The carrier is warping into port and the Fife is patrolling near the eastern pass between the Isle of Wight and the mainland. He shakes his head, his last assignment was Chief Engineer on the USS Salt Lake City, a heavy cruiser built in 1929, and today, he’s the XO on a destroyer commissioned in 1980. Hard to wrap his head around sometimes.
Communication announces, “TAO, Bird 621 reports a submerged contact bearing 262. Sir, it’s 17 miles ahead of us.”
“Very well. ASW start a track.”
“TAO, Easy Rider 32 reports a submerged contact bearing 259 at 19 miles.”
“ASW, is this the same contact or a new one?”
The ASW plot operator, FC1 Kayla Thompson, says, “A new one, sir.”
Flanagan picks up a phone, “Ma’am, we’re tracking two plus subs,” and hangs up.
“TAO, Sonar, we have screw noises indicating four or more subs. It’s all jumbled together and near the surface.”
He picks up the radio, “All units, Fife, we are prosecuting multiple submerged contacts to our south and west. Recommend battle group non-ASW units remain in port until prosecuted. Fife is going to general quarters.” The alarm sound through the ship.
Commander Wakefield walks in, “Report.”
Flanagan says, “Sierra one at 262, at about 15 miles. Sierra two at 259, at about 17 miles. Sonar indicates more contacts.”
Wakefield picks up the radio, “Carl Vinson, Fife, can you confirm no friendly submarines in this area?”
“Fife, Vinson, we have zero friendlies in this area. Weapons free at your discretion.”
She says, “Tell Bird 621, he is cleared to drop on Sierra one. Tell Easy Rider 32, they are clear to drop on Sierra two. Call Jarrett to launch Easy Rider 27 and Easy Rider 28. Jarrett is patrolling the western channel.”
A GERMAN AIRFIELD
Colonel Getz climbs from his aircraft. Walking around his craft, he sees three holes in his right wing. So close. So damn close. A car pulls up and a General gets out, “Colonel, what happened? You have returned having lost much of your force.”
“We were hit by at least 24 F-14s. The F-14 is a capable plane and they were flown quite expertly. We pushed through, destroying a couple of them. When I judged they had the upper hand, we withdrew. Please understand, Herr General, my pilots are new in type. Until recently none had ever fought in a jet. They are excellent pilots and they will do better as they gain experience.”
“How many did we destroy?”
“I don’t know, Herr General. No doubt they got the better of us because we were caught unprepared. The American aircraft carrier was not detected. We must prepare another strike. If we destroy their aircraft carrier, we destroy the American effort.”
“If twenty-four can maul you, how will you fare against the whole group?”
“Most of the losses came from them jumping us out of the sun. The pilot I fought with had at least 20 Japanese kills. I saw them as I crossed. If you recall, I was concerned about the location of the American carrier. Now we know, and we will not fail.”
“I agree, because that was the Japanese. We should do much better.”
As they talk, the crews are refueling the aircraft and patching up his ventilated wing.
The General asks, “How many aircraft are on the carrier?”
“I can’t be sure, but I would estimate at least 48 fighters, with the rest a mix of other type of aircraft. The Japanese claim to have shot several down.”
“Perhaps, but we must assume not, Herr Colonel. What will the carrier do? Will it stay off the coast? Will it drop aircraft and leave? If it leaves, then we need only wait and happy times will continue.”
“The Americans would not come this far and only do one raid.”
“That is logical, they will leave some planes behind, or maybe the whole airwing. The Fuhrer must be informed. Prepare your next strike. You may use whatever assets you need, but do not proceed without my approval.”
Getz salutes, “Yes, Herr General. Heil Hitler.”
BIRD 621, S-3 VIKING ORBITING OVER SIERRA 1
Lt. JG Vance ‘Splash’ Bunton gets the call to drop on the target, “Yes! We get to drop a hot one. Knucklehead, spin up the fish. I’m lining up the shot.” AW3 Lewis ‘Knucklehead’ Baker, the weapons operator, happily complies.
As they circle around into position, the weapons officer, ENS Mike ‘Guppy’ Tucker, reports, “Weapon is hot. Target is still on course, clear for drop.”
Bunton, “Green for drop. Dropping,” and pushes the launch button.
Then, ENS Don ‘Candy’ Kane, his co-pilot, announces on radio, “Drop. Drop. Fish in the water.”
The Mark 56 drops from the rail and a small chute opens to slow it as it goes into the water. Once in, the motor starts and the seeker head turns on. In moments, it has acquired its target, the sharp angles of the German submarine showing clear in the sonar. In less than a minute, it closes and explodes immediately below the sub, breaking it in half.
Further south, the torpedo from Easy Rider 32 finds its target and the crews of the surviving subs can here the rumble clearly as the two subs break apart and sink.
COMBAT, USS FIFE
Commander Wakefield says, “Order the aircraft clear. Do we have a fix for ASROC?”
FC1 Thompson says, “Yes, ma’am. All five missiles are in good order.”
Flanagan reports, “The aircraft are clear, ma’am.”
“Very well. Sound the salvo alarm. Fire a single ASROC each on Sierra 3 and Sierra 4.”
Thompson says, “Yes, ma’am,” and pushing the button which rings the warning bell near the forward vertical launcher. She then pushes the fire button, launching one ASROC, turns a switch, and pushes the button again. The two missiles fire, orient to their targets and arc gracefully through the air. About 50 feet above the water, the torpedoes separate from their missiles and drop into the sea.
In the water, their internal sonars turn on and start searching. One acquires its target quickly, shifts from search to target mode, and races in. Diving under the center of the sub, it explodes. The second torpedo, still in search mode when the first detonates, acquires the air bubbles from the explosion and shifts to target mode. As it passes through the bubbles, it loses lock and runs out of fuel. There are still two boats out there.
Sonar announces, “Another confirmed hit, ma’am. The water is so messed up, I can’t tell what is out there now.”
Flanagan says quietly, “Ma’am, we are getting close.”
She says, “Left full rudder, come to new course 175.”
At the NTDS with Flanagan, “Okay, Brewster, they were located here, pretty much in a group.”
“Yes, ma’am, a pretty good set-up for our assumed departure course.”
“I’m pretty sure we’ve sunk at least two. That will give them pause, but not stop them. The Jarrett is in the west channel and has nothing.” She notes the chart, “We have 800 feet and a smooth bottom.” Louder, “Sonar, deploy the array. Countermeasures, deploy the Nixie. That should confuse them.”
“Combat, radar, we have a probable periscope at 130 relative and eleven miles.”
“Do we have course and speed?”
“Ma’am, I think it’s Sierra 5. Course is about 100, maybe two knots.”
“Very well. Right standard rudder, come to 290. Ahead full. Prepare starboard torpedo tubes.”
“Torpedo spun up, door open. Starboard tubes ready.”
“Very well. What is the fuel state of Bird 621?”
“They still have 40 minutes of loiter and they are out of fish.”
“Understood. Have them confirm location cours
e and speed. Our wind is about right, let’s land our helicopter to refuel and rearm.”
A few MAD passes later and the Fife is at ahead 2/3rds, about four miles behind the slowly turning sub. Wakefield, “Fire tube three,” and the Mark 56 torpedo launches out of its tube and splashes into the water. Modern torpedoes do not leave bubbles, so it disappears immediately.
“Combat, sonar, high speed screws at 260 relative and 3,000 yards.”
Wakefield orders, “Emergency ahead flank, power limiting.” The screws dig in and the ship shakes as it accelerates.
Combat, aft lookout reports two torpedoes inbound at 264.”
“Are they going to hit?”
“Aft lookout says they’re going to be close. Aft lookout recommends hard turn to port.”
“Left full rudder, continue to answer the ordered bell.” The ship heels over hard in the turn, and both torpedoes miss, passing astern. One, by no more than 10 feet. “From aft lookout, torpedoes passing astern.”
“Ver well…”
Combat, sonar, confirmed hit on Sierra 5. Sierra 5 is hit.”
“Very well, do we have a lock on Sierra 4?”
“Yes, ma’am, 195 at 3000 yards, relative.”
“Very well, continue the turn. Come to new course 110, ahead standard. Ready port torpedoes.”
“Port torpedo tubes ready, ma’am.”
“Very well.”
Flanagan, “Ma’am, we’re gong to run over our array.”
“You’re right. All stop. Back full emergency. Do we have a good angle for port torpedoes?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Fire tube two.”
“Tube two fired.”
“Right full rudder, come to ahead 2/3rds.”
“Combat, sonar, we have two more torpedoes in the water, bearing 300 relative.”
“Acknowledge, sonar. Ahead full.”
“The torpedoes passed astern, ma’am.”
“Sierra 4 is hit.”
“Come to new course 190 and ahead 2/3rds. Tell the lookouts to search for survivors.”
The ship settles on its new course and no more submarines are detected. Wakefield says, “Thank you, Commander Flanagan for pointing out my error. It’s very much appreciated.”
“All your training, ma’am. You’ve been drilling me for weeks now.”
“Still, Brewster, thank you. Other than that, did you pick up any errors?”
“It would have been nice if we could have picked them up before we were at knife fight range.”
“Diesel boats are hard. When on battery, and at slow speed, they make very little noise.”
“Yes, ma’am, I saw that. Ma’am, we sank five submarines.”
“You’re right. Tell the bridge we’ll keep this course for 30 miles, then work a box west of here, 25 miles on a leg. Brewster, you have the watch.”
She picks up the 1MC, “Good afternoon, Fife. Today we were in a knife fight with five German U-boats. We destroyed all five. I want to compliment all hands for their exceptional efforts. We have done something no other ship has ever done. Boatswain, please paint five more subs on our bridge. Also, we’re breaking out the ice cream for after dinner. Thank you, well done.”
CHAPTER 19
FISHING BOAT, TOKYO BAY
Lt. JG Chris ‘Chaos’ Hisakawa focuses on laying out nets as his employer instructs. His life has been difficult since being shot down over Tokyo months ago. He hid in a small cave halfway up a cliff while they searched for him. Then, he watched, in shame, as they found and killed his pilot, his friend.
He waited days for the enemy to give up searching for him, struggling with the cold. When he felt it was safe, he crept out, stole some civilian clothes off a wash line, and buried his uniform. Using his grandfather’s name, Genzo, he asked for a job on a fishing boat. His Japanese was pretty good. As a kid, his family spent a lot of time visiting relatives in Japan. His grandfather, a fisherman, would take him out on his boat. He’d told the fisherman who hired him that he was a hand on a boat destroyed in the attack. Thank God, his grandpa had schooled him in how to manage nets so long ago.
Haru Satou, his boss, “Genzo, look over there. Have you ever seen a vessel so large as this?” pointing at a ship being built in a dry dock. It was a huge aircraft carrier. Smaller than the Carl Vinson, but still huge.
“No, Kyaputen. I ask, with such large sides how would they handle the nets?”
Haru chuckles, liking that his hand calls him ‘Captain’. “That vessel is for carrying aircraft to fight the Americans. It would pull a large net, though. It might even catch enough fish to feed the many hungry mouths inside.”
“So, we catch the fish to feed them.”
“Of course. Tell me Genzo, why didn’t you go to the navy? You handle a boat well.”
“They said I was too stupid. All I knew was fish.”
“It’s my gain, then.”
ALCONBURY RAF BASE, ENGLAND
1410, 13 MARCH, 1942
Spike and Puck sit in their fighter, waiting. The Redcocks are providing the two CAPs, north and south. With the engines off, it’s cold in the cockpit, but at least the canopy is closed. Looking out they see green everywhere on the gently rolling hills. A soft drizzle spots their canopy. Spike says, “What do you think of our new home, Puck?”
“It’s wet. That doesn’t surprise me. The armored shelters do, though. From the air, they look just like hills.”
“I noticed that. The hangars for the Brits over there are normal buildings.” A Wellington bomber takes off. All ten birds of the Black Knights are lined up, with their aircrews, ready to launch. Near the hard shelters the Tomcatters are refueling and rearming. The entire air wing, A-6s, EA-6Bs, C-2s, E-2Cs, and S-3s are parked here while the ship is in port. While she’s stationery, she can’t launch aircraft. “We’re going to get some of the S-3s for anti-sub patrols. That will make a huge difference in the Atlantic.”
“I heard. We’re even getting one E-2C and one EA-6B. Where are all the helicopters?”
“I think they’re still on the Vinson. We’re supposed to get two.”
On radio the British Fighter Command Center says, “Raid warning, north. Approximately 40 air craft over the North Sea. Scramble, scramble, scramble. Rabbit, Jocko, Wagon, scramble to meet the raid.” And with that, three British fighter squadrons are ordered airborne.
Then they hear the airborne Hawkeye, “All units, Ghost Rider 333, raid warning north. Beefeater flight 1, steer 018, climb to flight level 35 and engage. Beefeater flight 2, steer 010, climb to flight level 35 and engage. Now scramble all Knight flights. Knight flight 1, steer 180, climb to flight level 40 and proceed at most economical to station Alpha. Knight flight 2, steer 090, climb to flight level 40, and proceed at most economical to station Charley. Knight Flight 3, steer 160, climb to flight level 40, and proceed to station Delta.”
Puck acknowledges, they start their engines, and taxi out. Puck, “Alconbury tower, Knight 1 proceeding to runway 24. Request clearance for immediate departure.”
“Knight flight 1, 2, and 3, you are cleared for takeoff runway 24. All other traffic, hold.”
Spike, “Puck, tell all Knight flights we fly under em-con. No emissions.”
Puck, “All Knights, Knight 1. Once airborne, fly emissions tight. Acknowledge.”
The Knights RIO’s acknowledge. They taxi to the runway, pour on the throttle and rocket into the sky. At 4000 feet, they disappear into the clouds. At 7000 feet, they clear the clouds into bright sunlight. She sets her throttles for 500 knots as the rest of the flight settles into position. On her left wing is Thud and Speedy, on her right is Gunner and NOB. Beyond them, is Glow Rod and Buster.
Puck, “I get that we need to cover the south, but it feels like we’re flying in the wrong direction.”
“We slapped them real hard this morning. It’s Frosty’s turn.”
“Fair enough. Station Alpha is twenty miles south of the Isle of Wight. If this soup holds, we’ll have to dead recko
n it.”
“Okay, but they have a bunch of radar stations. We can triangulate off them.”
“I have to find them on the map, first. Okay, they use a different symbol, but I think I got it.”
35,000 FEET OVER THE NORTH SEA
Frosty leads a four-plane formation approaching the raid. At 40 miles he turns on his radar, “Alright, Beefeaters, we have a formation of 40 aircraft flying at 30,000 feet, at about 400 knots. Weapons tight until we identify. Set your X foils in the attack position.”
As they close, Lt. JG Pauline ‘Trollop’ Cash, flying Beefeater 864, “Tallyho. Angels 30, flying 250. Straight wings. They don’t see us.”
Frosty, “We have the sun, let’s use it. Dive, hit them, and climb out.”
FOCKE WULF-190 FIGHTERS OVER THE NORTH SEA
Captain Victor Bauer has his head on a swivel. He’s seen how well the jets perform and is not wanting to be caught unawares out here. He knows they are bait for a trap. His FW-190 is a state- of-the-art fighter, but the jets are something else. He also knows if he can shoot down an American jet, he might get to fly one of the new planes.
His first indication of trouble is when his wing man explodes in a ball of fire and a gray jet flashes by. He inverts and dives after the jet, but the F/A-18 is two miles away and climbing again. To himself, “Ah, they slash through like we do against bombers.” Keeping his eye on the jet, he pulls back out of the dive and starts a slow climb. Again, the big jet dives on him, and he wrenches into a steeper climb. He picks his prey, his finger touches the fire button, and his aircraft shudders as his guns fire.
He sees some of his rounds hit the aircrafts wing. Then his plane staggers as he feels rounds hitting his plane, and it begins to tumble. He struggles for control, “They use wingmen, too.”
BEEFEATER 864, OVER THE NORTH SEA
Lt. JG ‘Trollop’ Cash shouts over the radio, “Trollop is hit. Trollop is hit. Still flying.”
Frosty, “Stay calm, Trollop. Where are you hit?”
“My left wing and engine. Leaking hydraulics. Aileron is fluttering. I need to slow. But I’m still flying.”
