SSN

by Tom Clancy

  The second Alfa, still running at top speed, was unable to hear either Cheyenne or the two Mk 50s heading toward it, but its crew heard the explosion from the Mk 48 on the bearing of their sister ship. The second Alfa’s captain slowed immediately to assess the situation — which was the worst thing he could have done. By stopping directly in the path of the American Mk 50s, he had sealed his own fate.

  “Conn, sonar, two explosions, sir,” the sonar supervisor said to Mack. “The Mk 50s just hit their mark.” A moment later he added, “But she’s not breaking up, sir.”

  That didn’t surprise Mack. The Alfa class SSNs had always been thought of as one of the hardest types of submarine to kill. Unlike most other submarines, the Alfa had a hull constructed not of steel, but entirely of titanium. This allowed it to dive extremely deep, probably 3,000 feet, and it also made her a very hard target to destroy. Alfas were almost as hard to sink as the double-hulled Typhoon.

  The Alfa had gotten lucky, but she hadn’t come away undamaged. The two American light weight torpedoes had hit the Alfa on its starboard side, damaging the starboard ballast tanks. To make matters worse, their reactor had automatically shut down when the control rods came unlatched as a result of the torpedo concussions. Without its reactor, the Alfa could not run away.

  The officers and crew of the Alfa had just begun to get a grip on their problems when Cheyenne fired her second torpedo at Master 38, and things suddenly became much worse.

  “Conn, sonar, unit 2 running hot, straight, and normal,” the sonar supervisor said.

  There was nothing for the Chinese submarine to do except wait and die. If it tried to surface, it would list heavily to starboard. With their sonar barely working, the Alfa’s sonarmen listened as Mack’s torpedo came closer and closer to their submarine. One minute before impact, the Chinese captain did try launching a noisemaker, but the Mk 48 ignored it and continued to close on the helpless submarine.

  The torpedo detonated on the same side as had the smaller Mk 50s, but it had more of an impact. The titanium hull had already been weakened by the earlier explosions. This one cracked it clean through, flooding the Alfa and killing all forty-seven men on board. From the moment Cheyenne’s torpedo had acquired, they never had a chance.

  That didn’t bother Mack at all. This was war, and he knew the Chinese hadn’t planned on giving Ingraham any chance, either.

  The Alfas were gone, and now Cheyenne and her crew had to focus on their mission once more. The Chinese task group was still headed her way, but there was little time left for Cheyenne and Ingraham’s helos to prepare for the quick but deadly upcoming attack. Mack allowed his crew a short respite from battle stations.

  Nineteen hours later, Cheyenne came to periscope depth with battle stations remanned. She received word that one of Ingraham‘s helicopters had detected the Chinese task group 150 miles to the north of Cheyenne’s position. Ingraham had relocated about fifty miles to the south of Cheyenne, but her Seahawks were flying as rotating radar pickets to detect the enemy fleet. As soon as the Chinese task group was discovered, the second Seahawk, freshly fueled and armed, was sent to relieve the first one and allow it to return to the frigate for refueling.

  The Seahawk’s powerful surface-search radar allowed the helicopter to stay out of Chinese SAM (surface-to-air missile) range while she painted the task group with radar waves. This data would be used to guide Cheyenne’s Harpoons into their targets.

  Cheyenne proceeded back down to her normal patrol depth and increased her speed to twenty-five knots. Two hours later she was well within Harpoon missile range of the Chinese task group, with Harpoons in all four torpedo tubes and “battle stations missile” manned.

  Mack’s orders were unchanged, and so was his plan. He intended to fire his six Harpoons in salvos and then launch his TASMs at the remaining targets. His biggest concern was the speed with which Cheyenne would have to operate — both for her own sake and because, if they took too long, the Seahawks risked entering SAM range and being engaged by Chinese missiles.

  Cheyenne had trained for this kind of mission, and Mack had always felt that this type — striking at unsuspecting surface ships — was very much the same as that of a waiting sniper: get in position, wait for an opportunity, fire, and slip away.

  Cheyenne came to one hundred feet and within minutes had launched all her Harpoons. Without missing a beat, Mack ordered VLS tubes five through ten fired. The Tomahawks were launched one by one as the hatches on each tube opened in sequence and the missiles were ejected skyward.

  When the last TASM was away, Mack ordered Cheyenne back down to four hundred feet and headed toward the submarine tender McKee. They had fired off many of their weapons and needed to rearm in order to remain effective.

  Battle stations were once again secured while the torpedo tubes were reloaded but, as was always the case when attacking distant targets, Cheyenne’s crew would have to wait to learn how well they had performed. They knew only that twenty-five minutes after the attack, sonar had reported twelve very large primary and secondary explosions. This was a good sign, especially considering that there were only eight vessels in the Chinese task group, but official confirmation of the kills would have to wait.

  * * *

  McKee, like all submarine tenders, was an auxiliary vessel with little weaponry and no sonar. Which meant that, ironically, though she had spent nearly all her life servicing submarines, she was virtually defenseless against them and had no way of knowing if one was sneaking up on her.

  The McKee’s captain was not known for his sense of irony. He would not have been amused to know that, even as his ship was operating quietly off Brunei in wait for Cheyenne, a lone Ming class submarine was stalking her. He had weighed anchor after Cheyenne left the last time in order to conduct sea training for his crew.

  * * *

  Thirteen hours after launching her missiles, Cheyenne came to periscope depth to catch up on the latest intelligence and to inform McKee that they were en route and would arrive in about twenty-five hours. Cheyenne was at periscope depth for as short a time as possible. She was soon on her way to the southern portion of the South China Sea once more, unaware of the enemy submarine that was heading toward McKee.

  * * *

  The Chinese submarine captain had closed to within twenty-six miles of McKee. He would maintain his speed of five knots until the American tender came within range of his SAET-60 homing torpedoes with their 400-kilogram warheads. The maximum range for these torpedoes was 16,400 yards, or a little over eight nautical miles, so the Ming would have to move in close.

  Three hours later, the Ming had closed the gap. McKee was at the extreme edge of the torpedo’s range, and the Chinese captain began preparing his submarine for firing.

  Mack was in the control room talking with his watch standers when the report came from sonar.

  “Conn, sonar, we just picked up a sonar contact bearing 173; it’s opening its torpedo tube doors. The bearing is to the west of McKee’s reported position.”

  “Come to periscope depth,” Mack said. “Radio, Captain, contact McKee and ask her if any friendly submarines are expected near her location.” Mack had to ask the question, but he would have been surprised if the answer was yes. That would have meant that CTF 74 was losing control of submarine mutual interference.

  Battle stations were quickly manned as sonar reported Master 47 to be a probable Ming class SSK. Then the response from McKee came back.

  “Conn, radio, that’s a negative, sir, they’re only expecting us. We are the only submarine that should be in the area.”

  “Radio, conn, tell McKee to get under way at best speed, course 090.” That would take McKee directly away from the enemy submarine.

  Cheyenne sent the message and then Mack headed deep. Moments later, the sonar supervisor reported contact on McKee and that McKee had started to move on course 090 and was picking up speed.

  “Ahead flank, steer 173,” Mack ordered.

  That woul
d serve two purposes, he knew. First, and most important, it would get them within range to fire on the Chinese submarine. Second, and almost as vital, it would serve notice to the Ming, warning them that if they didn’t back off from McKee they were going to be facing a big, angry American submarine.

  The Ming heard Cheyenne cavitating, but it didn’t alter course. Instead, it increased speed in the direction of McKee and fired two torpedoes. Only then did the Chinese submarine change course, but by then it was too late.

  Mack had already slowed and, with the BSY-1 computer solutions, had fired two Mk 48s at the Ming. Minutes later, the torpedoes acquired their target and homed in on the enemy submarine. The sonar supervisor reported two explosions, followed by the sounds of the Ming filling with water. The Ming was dead.

  “What about the Chinese torpedoes?” Mack asked. “How’s McKee doing?”

  He didn’t have to worry, though. McKee was running away from the SAET-60s as fast as she could. At twenty knots, she wasn’t able to outrun the torpedoes, but she was able to stay ahead of them until they ran out of gas.

  When sonar lost contact on the second Chinese torpedo, Mack ordered Cheyenne to periscope depth. “Radio, conn, tell McKee we’re coming in.”

  He was going to be glad to reach the tender. Cheyenne needed to rearm and resupply. But he had the feeling that the captain and crew of McKee would be glad to see them, too.

  6. Ambush

  Cheyenne’s crew was well rested after their relatively relaxing stay on board the submarine tender McKee. Cheyenne had been rearmed and their food and supply stocks had been replenished. Captain Mackey was even looking forward to his next mission.

  According to naval intelligence, that mission was going to be a “breeze” compared to his last several — and Mack hoped they were right. By now, his officers and crew were combat-hardened veterans who had more than paid their debt to their country. If Mack had his way, he’d give each and every one of them a medal and a promotion for their service.

  The captain called the executive officer into his small stateroom. This was one of the few places where the captain could have a quiet moment to himself. He had asked the executive officer to join him because he didn’t always trust naval intelligence and he wanted a second opinion on the orders Cheyenne had received.

  When the executive officer arrived, Mack handed him the message. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

  The orders called for Cheyenne to enter into the Chinese-claimed Spratly Islands and patrol several of the now-abandoned oil rigs in the area, including the partially built rig bordering on Swallow Reef.

  The executive officer studied them for two minutes and then looked up. The look on his face made it clear that he wasn’t any happier than Mack was. A week earlier, naval intelligence had proclaimed those waters too dangerous to enter. Now they were claiming that they’d been deloused and were clear of all enemy submarines.

  Mack had gotten what he’d wanted — confirmation of his suspicions. Cheyenne had her orders, and she would carry them out, but she would be expecting trouble, no matter what those intel guys said.

  “Gather the officers,” he said. “I want them all in the wardroom in fifteen minutes.”

  Ever since he’d first met the executive officer, Mack had liked him and trusted his opinion. During wartime, Mack knew, one could never be too reliant on intelligence reports from thousands of miles away. The executive officer had agreed with his feelings on their orders and that made Mack trust him even more.

  Fifteen minutes later, the wardroom was quiet when Mack entered. He looked around at the assembled officers and decided to get right to the point.

  “We’ve been ordered to enter the Spratly Islands chain and patrol several oil rigs in the area that are believed to be possible locations for submarine supply depots,” he said. “Naval intelligence doubts this finding, but they have sent us to investigate nonetheless.”

  Because the intelligence analysts didn’t think that they would find anything in the area, CTF 74 had decided it would be cost efficient to load Cheyenne with only twenty Mk-48 torpedoes; no Tomahawks and no Harpoons. So even if Mack did find a remote Chinese operating location, he couldn’t attack it with Tomahawks as he would have liked to. He was ordered to report back, and then the Navy would order an air strike.

  He hated this kind of thinking.

  The assembled officers were silent, waiting for him to continue. “Naval intelligence reports that due to our successful actions during the past several weeks, as well as the actions of the rest of the Navy, the Chinese units in the area are running low on supplies and morale. They expect that, at the most, we will come into contact with only a handful of submarines in these waters.”

  Mack looked around the room, assessing his officers. “This mission is supposed to be an easy one,” he said, “but you all know what that means. It just means we have to be extra careful and keep on our toes. I don’t like being that close to Chinese-occupied waters any more than you do. But we have our orders.”

  After the usual number of questions, the wardroom was cleared and the captain went back to his stateroom, where he again examined his orders. He still didn’t like what he was reading.

  Mack looked at the chart he normally kept in the wardroom. It was one of the few good charts he’d ever seen of the Spratly Islands. The chain was oval, shaped roughly like a football, with four islands that Cheyenne needed to patrol.

  As Mack examined the chart, he decided he would steam silently from the north into the waters surrounding Discovery Great Reef. From there, he would proceed in a counterclockwise direction, continuing west and south until he arrived near Cuarteron Reef, right in the center of the oval.

  From there, Cheyenne would travel to Swallow Reef, near the southern border of the islands, and then sail northeast until she arrived at her last search area, Carnatic Reef. Assuming that intel was right — an assumption Mack was not prepared to make — and the area was clean, Cheyenne would then continue on to the north to await further orders.

  Cheyenne was now passing the island of Palawan to the east. Navigating the remaining 200 miles in the narrow but deep channel leading to Mindoro Strait would require a number of GPS fixes en route. The submarine tender McKee, from which he had just finished rearming, would remain on station in the Sulu Sea until ordered by CTF 74 to relocate.

  After the recent submarine attack on McKee, the Independence and the Nimitz Battle Groups had each decided to part with one ASW helicopter, and the two LAMPS III helos were now being flown to McKee’s position.

  The SH-60s would be operated from McKee’s landing pads in order to protect the tender from any possible future submarine threats. The SH-60Bs were also equipped to carry the Penguin antiship missile, which would offer McKee an antisurface defense as well. The Navy would not be taking any more chances by sending a defenseless tender into the line of fire.

  One other good thing came out of that attack on McKee—at least from Mack’s point of view. McKee’s captain was very appreciative of Cheyenne‘s timely rescue and had provided as much fresh fruit as Cheyenne’s storage spaces would allow. Fresh fruit was scarce on board a submarine and stocks often ran out quickly. This gesture on the part of McKee‘s captain was greatly appreciated, and while the fruit would not last long, it would help ensure that the beginning of Cheyenne’s cruise would be enjoyable.

  Having found a Ming SSK in the Sulu Sea, Mack could not afford the luxury of running on the surface until clear of Mindoro Strait. Still, the channel out to the Sulu Sea was narrow and treacherous, so Mack decided to supplement the GPS fixes with occasional active sonar. The threat of other Chinese submarines was real, but so was the threat of running into the side of the channel.

  Once past the shallow waters of Mindoro Strait, Cheyenne accelerated to twenty knots, on course 300 toward the start of her counterclockwise search of the Spratly Islands. Upon arrival, Mack ordered the OOD to run at four knots until they determined that the area was clear bef
ore continuing on their way.

  The TB-23 towed array was streamed to help in the search of the deep water in case there were Chinese SSNs trying to slip in from the north. After a careful sonar search, Cheyenne increased speed to full and altered course for Discovery Great Reef.

  The more Mack thought about this current mission, the less he liked it. He was all too aware of how easy it would be for a diesel submarine like a Kilo to hide in the island waters near the oil platforms. An enemy submarine could lie in wait near the bottom of the shallow water, hiding until Cheyenne came within torpedo range. They could even bottom without damage, since the Chinese diesel submarines didn’t have a GRP (glass-reinforced plastic) sonar dome or seawater cooling for a steam propulsion plant to worry about. Captain Mackey didn’t like that thought at all.

  Mack decided that once he was within twenty-five miles of each search area, he would reduce Cheyenne’s speed to eight to ten knots and that once he was with ten miles he would slow to four to seven knots. He didn’t want anyone sneaking up on them, and running slow was the best way to keep Cheyenne quiet.

  * * *

  When Cheyenne was twenty-five miles north-northeast of the Spratlys, Mack proceeded to the control room, looked at Cheyenne’s position on the quartermaster’s chart, and then ordered the OOD, “Slow to ten knots.”

  “Slow to ten knots, aye, sir.”

  The change in the speed of the submarine, while sudden, was not overly drastic for the crew. They had gotten used to the rough riding of a submarine in close combat.

  Hours before, Cheyenne had shifted from the TB-23 to the TB-16 towed array. The sonar operators were listening quietly, but heard nothing on the towed array or the spherical and conformal sonars, and the sonar supervisor soon reported that there were no contacts. Mack was pleased with that report. He knew that if they were to encounter an enemy submarine, they would be in for a dangerous, shallow water fight.