Tiger's Claw: A Novel pm-18

by Dale Brown

  “Up periscope,” Yao ordered. He turned the periscope tube to the proper bearing, then slowly raised it. A few clicks of magnification and he had the destroyer in his crosshairs. “You are mine, pigu,” he said in a low voice. He took several photos. “Down periscope,” he quietly ordered. “Stand by for simulated torpedo attack, crew,” he spoke on the intercom. “Flood tubes two and five, keep the outer doors closed, acknowledge.”

  “All outer torpedo doors closed and verified, sir.”

  “Very well. Simulated only, match bearings . . . simulate fire one . . . simulate fire two.” The WS-2A5 torpedoes were the standard Taiwanese torpedoes, designed and built in Taiwan but designed after the American Mk-48 torpedo. They were wire guided, with passive sonar detection as primary terminal guidance and active sonar guidance if the wire was cut and for a final range and bearing to the target. The wire transmission was two-way, so not only could the torpedo operator on the sub steer the torpedo through the wire, but the torpedo could send sonar signals back to the sub as it closed on its target. The torpedo swam as fast as fifty-five knots, slowed to forty knots to take a terminal active sonar fix, then sped up again to close in for the kill.

  “Make your course two-one-zero,” Yao ordered. He turned to his executive officer, Zun Khong (Commander) Chein Si-yao. “Now we go after their carrier, Si-yao.”

  “It is risky, sir,” Chein said. Chein Si-yao was far younger and less experienced than Yao, on his first extended cruise aboard the Avenger. “The battle group is only eight kilometers away, and several helicopters are airborne. If they start hammering away with their active sonars, they can swarm us.”

  “We will let them sail past, and then try to come up behind the Zheng He for a shot,” Yao said. “I am not going to let this opportunity pass. The Communists expect everyone to run away with fear when they sail their big carrier battle group around—they will not expect anyone to pursue them.”

  “Simulated strikes on Communist destroyer complete, sir,” Chein said as the seconds ticked past on his watch. “Successful engagement. Congratulations, sir.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Yao said, “but I want that carrier next. Continue scan for the Zheng He. Range and bearing as quickly as possible.”

  EIGHT

  ABOARD THE PLAN AIRCRAFT CARRIER ZHENG HE

  THAT SAME TIME

  The phone from the flag bridge rang, and Lower Admiral Weng Li-Yeh, captain of the carrier Zheng He, picked it up immediately. “Yes, Admiral?”

  “Any sign of that traitor submarine yet?” Rear Admiral Hu Tan-sun, commander of the Zheng He carrier battle group, asked.

  “We have it narrowed down to less than a hundred square kilometers, sir,” Weng replied. “The Y-8 radar operators thought they had spotted a periscope very briefly about a half hour ago, but the sea state is a little choppy so radar reports are not totally accurate.”

  “How about the diesel detectors?” Hu asked. The Y-8 patrol plane had the capability to sniff the air for telltale signs of diesel exhaust to alert it to the presence of diesel-electric submarines.

  “The Y-8 is patrolling too close to the battle group, sir,” Weng replied. “Diesel detectors will not be reliable unless they fly farther out. Besides, if the target is trying to do simulated attacks on our group, he will likely be running on batteries only.”

  There was a slight pause, then Hu said, “How many antisubmarine helicopters can we launch into the area right now?”

  “We can launch four, sir,” Weng replied. “Four of our escorts have helicopters, but I think only two are configured for antisubmarine operations at this time. A total of six, sir.”

  “Weng, we had intelligence that the traitors were going to send a submarine after us—we should have had all helicopters configured for ASW.” Another pause, then: “Launch all available ASW helicopters into the search area immediately.”

  “All of them? But, sir, the Taiwanese sub will be alerted that we are searching for him the moment he detects multiple sonars. I recommend . . .”

  “Weng, we know the traitor is on the way, and we have a good idea where he is,” Hu snapped. “The last thing I want is for the traitors to come within torpedo range of this ship—or worse, actually take a shot at us. Launch the helicopters immediately!”

  ABOARD THE TAIWANESE SUBMARINE AVENGER

  A SHORT TIME LATER

  The search for the Zheng He did not take long: “Got him!” Yao whispered excitedly. The profile of the carrier was unmistakable through his periscope even at this range. “Bearing one-nine-one.” He hit the laser rangefinder. “Range twelve kilometers, speed twenty, heading zero-eight-zero. Transmit target position and the periscope photo of the second engagement to fleet headquarters.”

  “Transmission sent, sir,” came the response a few moments later.

  “Very well.” He made a fast 360-degree scan of the horizon. There was one escort ship to the west. Yao got a photograph and a position on it. “Periscope down.” Twelve kilometers was right at the edge of the torpedo’s envelope, and it was perpendicular to their course so it was an even more difficult shot—they had to close in. “Steer one-seven-zero, make fifteen knots, set your depth one hundred meters.” He estimated the carrier battle group was probably making no more than twelve knots, so he could close in slowly without going to full underwater speed. The Zheng He could probably sail at almost thirty knots when launching aircraft, which was far faster than the Avenger’s top underwater speed, but within its protective cocoon of ships it had to slow down so the others could keep up. “Let us get this one, men. I want a picture of a dead Communist carrier on the admiral’s wall by tomorrow morning.”

  “Sir,” Chein said, “we are nearing our maximum submerged speed. We are exceeding ultraquiet parameters.”

  “I do not want to lose this one, Exec,” Yao said. “We ‘torpedoed’ a destroyer with ease—I think the carrier will be just as easy. Proceed.”

  ABOARD A PLAN HARBIN Z-9 ASW HELICOPTER

  THAT SAME TIME

  “Contact!” the radar operator shouted. “Periscope, bearing zero-three-five, range twelve kilometers!”

  The copilot made a mark on his chart. “We got you now, friend,” he said. On the command channel he radioed: “Jiâ, this is Yúying Three, radar contact periscope, thirteen kilometers northeast of you.”

  Like a pack of starving wolves chasing down a deer, the six ASW helicopters zoomed to the location, then established a rectangular pattern. On cue, together they seeded the sea with sonobuoys. Once the sonobuoys hit the water they deployed a floating platform with a UHF antenna, then unreeled the main body with a hydrophone six feet under the surface. This first pattern was composed of passive hydrophones that only listened for mechanical sounds . . .

  . . . and it did not take long to triangulate a bearing to an underwater target.

  “Heavy rotor sounds overhead, sir!” the sonar operator aboard the Avenger radioed. “Now several sets of rotors! It might be a swarm, sir!”

  “Reduce speed to five knots, come to a heading of zero-six-zero, make your depth two hundred meters,” Captain Yao Mei-Yueh ordered. He realized he had gotten too anxious about getting a photo of the carrier and had let errors multiply—sailing too fast, keeping the periscope up too long, and ignoring the threat from the helicopters—and now he might have to fight his way out of this. The farther he got away from the carrier and its escorts, the more likely it would be for the helicopters to break off their search and fly home.

  They all heard it a few minutes later: the sound of active sonars pinging all around them. “Make your depth two hundred and fifty,” Yao ordered. “Come left zero-four-five, maintain five knots.”

  “If the Chinese operators are good,” Commander Chien said, “they will have our position triangulated within minutes.”

  “But they are not very good, Si-yao,” Yao said. “And if their helicopters are using their dipping sonars, that means they are hovering, not pursuing. Conn, make turns for fifteen knots.” He
turned again to Chein. “The chase continues, Commander. If they try to pursue, we will just go silent again, wait for them to start banging away with their active sonars, and run again. We can do this much longer than they can.”

  ABOARD THE CHINESE AIRCRAFT CARRIER ZHENG HE

  THAT SAME TIME

  “The Z-9s report the traitor submarine is dashing, sir,” captain of the Zheng He, Admiral Weng, said to Admiral Hu, commander of the Zheng He carrier battle group. “The helicopters are running low on fuel, and converting the others for antisubmarine duty will take another twenty minutes.”

  “I told you, Weng, every helicopter in the battle group should have been made ready for antisubmarine duty,” Hu said angrily. “We could lose the traitor.” He went on, “Get a second JH-37 ready to launch with torpedoes. Have every helicopter stay on station as long as possible with all sonars active. I want a position on that submarine close enough to get the JH-37 in position to attack. I do not care if they employ their sonars while sitting with empty fuel tanks on the surface—I want the Flying Leopard to attack, and I want that traitor’s submarine on the bottom now!”

  “Here they come again,” Yao Mei-Yueh said as the sound of the active sonars got closer. “They are just not going to give up. Helm, steer zero-eight-five. Let us put more distance between us and the carrier—that will make those helicopter pilots watch their fuel gauges even closer.”

  “Should we decrease speed, sir?” executive officer Chein Si-yao asked. “At fifteen knots, we are putting off quite a racket.”

  Yao shook his head. “I want to get some distance first,” he replied. “If we hear those helicopters get closer, we will go back to five knots. But every kilometer we get from that carrier is another chance we will have to escape.” The Avenger on batteries was very quiet at this depth, even at twenty knots, although at that speed the batteries would not last very long. He flicked a channel switch on his intercom. “Sonar, any sign of pursuit from their surface ships?”

  “None, sir,” the sonar operator replied. “All escorts appear to be staying with the carrier.”

  “Very well.” Yao smiled. “What good is having destroyer escorts if they are just going to stay with their primary? Are they going to let the helicopters do all the work?” For the first time since they were discovered, Yao felt a touch of relief. They might just make it out of this with their skins intact.

  “Contact, sir!” Weng shouted. “One of the helicopters got a momentary contact, bearing only.”

  “Pass to the Flying Leopard and have him attack immediately,” Admiral Hu ordered, “and he had better not miss.”

  The JH-37 Fei Bào swooped less than five hundred feet over the ocean near the carrier Zheng He at patrol speed, then took up a heading east on the same bearing as the sonar contact. Immediately after overflying the gaggle of Z-9 patrol helicopters, the bomber crew began sowing APR-3E torpedoes along the last reported bearing to the Taiwanese submarine, dropping one every ten seconds. When the torpedoes dove underwater, they detached their aerodynamic tailcones and activated passive sonar to search for a target.

  Minutes later, one of the torpedoes picked up the sound of the Avenger sliding through the sea, less than a half mile away. It locked the target bearing into its navigation system, armed its 150-pound warhead, activated its active sonar, and fired its solid-propellant rocket motor. The torpedo immediately accelerated to almost one hundred miles an hour and closed quickly with its quarry.

  •••

  “Torpedo inbound!” the sonar operator shouted. “High speed, closing fast! He has acquired with active sonar!”

  “Countermeasures starboard!” Yao shouted. “Helm, hard to port, flank speed! Sound collision!”

  But at just a half-mile distance, there was no time for evasive maneuvers—the torpedo closed the distance in less than thirty seconds. It missed the Taiwanese submarine, but its proximity fuze detonated the warhead just a few dozen yards behind the Avenger. The massive overpressure instantly deformed the submarine’s rudder and several propeller blades, creating a massive vibration throughout the entire vessel. The sub felt as if it was going to roll inverted.

  “All stop!” Yao shouted, scrambling for a handhold. “Damage report!” He dashed to the sonar station. “Are we making any noise?”

  The sonar operation listened for a few seconds. “Loud cavitation and structural defect noises at this speed, sir,” he said finally. He listened again. “Sounds decreasing as we slow, but I can still hear some in the background.”

  That could be a problem, Yao thought as he went back to the control area. “Damage report.”

  “Several leaks around the propeller shaft and bearings, and possibly several bent propeller blades,” Chein replied, “but Engineering thinks we will have propulsion if we can risk the noise. The rudder has a seven-degree port cant but it is movable. All other compartments reporting no serious damage.”

  Wounded, Yao thought, but not dead. “How much speed does Engineering think we can make?”

  “It depends on how much noise you are willing to make, sir. They think a maximum of fifteen knots.”

  “At least we can still make it home, if we can evade the Communists,” Yao said. “Comm, prepare a message floater, radio our position in relation to reference point nquán, request assistance—these helicopters are over Taiwanese waters.” The message floater was a buoy with a satellite transmitter and antenna aboard that would send a coded message to fleet headquarters, wait for message confirmation, then sink itself so it did not reveal the position of the sub that launched it.

  “Floater ready, sir.”

  “Release it,” Yao ordered. He waited until the message was sent and the floater sunk.

  “Con, Sonar, helicopter noises on the surface, bearing two-zero-zero.”

  “He might have spotted the floater before it sunk itself,” Chein said in a low voice.

  “Helicopter sounds increasing, sir, bearing two-zero-zero,” the sonar operator said. “He is coming closer.”

  “It is time to stop being the hunted,” Yao said. “Helm, take us to periscope depth, nice and slow.”

  It took careful balancing of the ballast tanks to approach the surface without using forward propulsion and without broaching, but several minutes later they were stabilized at sixty feet below the surface. After a careful sonar scan, Yao raised the periscope and quickly did a 360-degree scan of the horizon, then turned to the approaching helicopter’s bearing. “Target, aircraft,” he announced. He tapped the laser rangefinder button. “Range eight kilometers. Weapons, ready IDAS in tube three, stand by to engage. Flood tube three.”

  “Con, Weapons, IDAS ready.”

  “Tube three flooded.”

  “Open outer door on tube three,” Yao ordered. He magnified the image of the Communist helicopter, then locked it in. “IDAS, aircraft, tube three, shoot one.”

  “IDAS, tube three, shoot one.”

  The IDAS missile shot out and ahead of the Avenger on a blast of compressed air from the torpedo tube, and it steered itself to the target bearing. Once it was about fifty yards ahead of the sub, a booster motor on the rear of the missile fired, propelling the missile upward at over one hundred miles an hour and pushing it above the surface. As soon as it cleared the surface the spent booster motor ejected and the main rocket motor ignited, pushing the missile to almost twice the speed of sound. Seconds later, the missile impacted the Chinese Z-9 helicopter on its rotor mast just above the cockpit. The missile’s fifty-pound high-explosive warhead separated the mast from the helicopter, and the stricken helicopter crashed into the sea.

  “Direct hit!” Yao shouted. “That helicopter will make enough noise to mask our damage sounds. Down periscope. Secure tube three, then reload IDAS. Helm, make your depth two hundred meters. Make turns for fifteen knots. Steer zero-five-zero.” Yao allowed himself to think they might actually get away from the area alive.

  PEOPLE’S LIBERATION ARMY HEADQUARTERS, BEIJING

  THAT SAME TIME<
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  General Zu picked up the telephone, knowing exactly what the call was about. He never should have doubted that Admiral Zhen would unleash Kepà debo if authorized. “What is it, Admiral?” he spoke after the secure link was established.

  “The Taiwanese submarine has been detected, sir,” South Sea Fleet commander Admiral Zhen Peng said. “It is apparently damaged but under way. It used a new missile that has shot down and destroyed an antisubmarine patrol helicopter while submerged.”

  “How did the traitor submarine get damaged, Admiral?” Zu asked.

  “It was attacked by torpedoes from one of our carrier attack planes, sir,” Zhen said.

  “If it got away from a torpedo, Zhen, what makes you think your forces can destroy it with Kepà debo?”

  “It is damaged, sir, so it cannot evade the torpedo as before, and we have a solid position on it with sonobuoys,” Zhen replied. “I am confident we can kill it now.”

  Zu hesitated. This was going to be an extreme escalation, and he was going to be responsible for it—not Zhou, not Gao, no one but himself.

  “Sir?” Zhen asked. “Am I authorized to proceed?”

  “Stand by, damn you, Zhen.”

  “Sir, we must act before the traitor submarine gets away,” Zhen said. “If it challenges your restrictions and escapes, the world will think we do not have the technology or the will to enforce our own territorial waters.”

  “I said shut up, Zhen,” Zu said. The deputy chief of the general staff, Major General Sun, entered Zu’s office, heard his superior’s angry retort, and narrowed his eyes with a silent question. Sun was right, Zu thought: no one, not even the Americans, were powerful enough in the region to take on China. This would leave every nation on Earth fearful of taking on China.

  “Authorized, Zhen,” Zu said. “Make sure it is killed.” He slammed the receiver down onto its cradle. “Get Gao on the line immediately!”

  A few moments later: “Yes, General?” Gao Xudong responded.