by Stuart Slade
"Inbounds! Four more on the way!" The urgent cry broke into Kurita's reverie. Compared with the first salvoes that had torn the sky up as they'd raced towards the Japanese ships, these ones seemed to be almost leisurely. Yet, they were coming in fast, four tracks, one obviously targeted on each of his four cruisers. Closing at 2000 meters every three seconds, they were slow only by the standard of the anti-aircraft missiles. Kurita felt the deck rumble under his feet as Aoba opened fire with her forward 155mm dual-purpose guns.
Abreast of her, Asama was doing the same. For a brief moment, the big guns had the field to themselves and they were rewarded by the sight of the white streak of the Sagarika turning gray, then black-and-red as the missile was hit and turned into a tumbling mass of fragments. Then, the 100mm guns on the destroyers and the 76mm weapons on the two rocket cruisers cut in, once more staining the sky black with the flak bursts. Another inbound missile was hit, and then a third but the fourth made it through the anti-aircraft barrage. Helplessly, Kurita watched it slice in on Asama.
The short-range anti-ship Sagarika had a 4,400 pound warhead, the explosives packing the space consumed by fuel tanks and datalinks in the long-range versions. It wasn't the weight of the explosive charge that did it, crippling though that was. What did it was that the explosive warhead was designed as a shaped charge, one 34 inches across. Armor piercing capability of such warheads wasn't determined by weight of explosives or speed of impact, it was determined by that diameter. As a rule of thumb, the penetration of a normal shaped charge was at least six times its diameter.
The Sagarika warhead wasn't a sophisticated design and it barely managed the rule-of-thumb minimum. That still meant it could penetrate 204 inches of armor plate. It wouldn't have mattered if Asama had been the long-scrapped Yamato. For all the cries of those who wanted to see battleships back in the fleet, there was no practical thickness of armor that could stop that blast.
The missile slammed into the cruiser between No.1 and No.2 turrets, angling aft as the cruiser turned to avoid the incoming weapon. It crashed through the outer plating and drove inboard for a few feet while its delayed action fuse started to work. Then it exploded, sending a jet of flame more than 40 feet long into the ship's heart. The six inches of armor on Asama at the point of impact vanished in the fury of the shaped charge blast as if it had never been there. The jet roared into the No.2 turret magazine, melting the brass cases of the serried ranks of six inch shells and spreading their contents out into the flame. A microsecond later, the propellant ignited. The magazine was a large space by ship standards but nowhere near large enough to contain the effects of all the shells in No.2 turret igniting. It wasn't, technically, an explosion, not immediately, but it might as well have been. Its effect on the shells in that magazine was to convert the massive over-contained fire into a real explosion.
It wasn't like Himgiri. That ship had simply vanished in a flash of light. Kurita saw the fireball of the explosion on Asama's bow and, a minute fraction of a second later, the eruption as No.2 turret magazine exploded. Then, the explosions seemed to roll along the ship's length, ripping her apart as they went.
The blast from No.2 turret magazine went two ways. One was forward, searing through the bulkhead separating it from No.1 turret magazine and starting the same cataclysmic process there. As No.1 turret magazine exploded, the whole bow section of Asama, from No.1 turret forward, detached and somersaulted across the sea.
The other component of the blast wave went aft, penetrating and detonating No.3 turret magazine. That reinforced the blast wave, sending it through the accommodation and command center under the bridge, into the boiler rooms. Those big spaces should have allowed the blast to expand and dissipate only beside the boiler rooms were the magazines that fed the forward four twin 100mm mounts. Those magazines had no protection against and explosion from inside the ship and they contributed to the blast wave that was gutting Asama.
Next to go were the machinery compartments, aft of the boiler rooms. Again, their size should have allowed the blast wave to expand and absorbed some of its fury but above the machinery spaces were Asama's torpedoes. She had two sets of five in the tubes and two sets of reloads. They added both explosion and fire from their oxygen cylinders to the cataclysm engulfing Asama and made the explosion of the aft 100mm magazines a formality. Reinforced by the latest additions, the blast wave still raced aft, into No.4 turret magazine and the cycle that had started in the bows was completed. No.5 turret magazine exploded a split second after No.4 turret and No.6 turret magazine followed them the same interval later. Finally, the blast wave exited via the ship's stern.
Kurita watched appalled as the cruiser vanished under the chain of explosions, her shape indistinguishable under the clouds of smoke and flame that had engulfed her. The spaces that had once housed her machinery collapsed and the ship mercifully broke in half. The two parts rolled apart as the explosions racked them. The bow portion, now open at both ends sank almost immediately. The stern took a little longer. Its shape seemed to rise upwards as it started its plunge downwards. The distinctive curve of the fantail highlighted against the sky, looking for all the world as if a giant sword was being shaken in a final act of defiance against the heavens that had failed to smile on Asama. Then, the 18,000 ton cruiser was gone.
"Target that cruiser. All guns, now!" Kurita looked at the scene outside the bridge. Three Indian destroyers had pulled right ahead of the rest of the squadron and were racing into the attack, spray piling over their bridges, spectacular bones in their teeth. Kurita was a traditional Navy man and he recognized a traditional destroyer torpedo attack when he saw one. "Destroyers to engage those three there! Get our torpedoes ready for launch."
"More missiles inbound!"
Kurita shuddered at the words. Was this seemingly endless barrage of missiles never going to end? Intellectually, Kurita knew what the Indians were doing, by keeping up this steady stream of missiles, they were keeping the Japanese squadron on the defensive. As long as they did that, Kurita would be trapped into reacting to their moves and that was a sure and certain way to lose a battle. Still, their magazines had to be running low, didn't they? Missiles weren‘t like shells, missiles were costly and space consuming. Ships couldn‘t carry that many of them.
Kurita watched the tracks of the latest salvoes. These were a lot slower than the previous waves, subsonic by a wide margin. Even as he watched, gunfire brought down the first wave of eight but the second wave got through with only two shot down. Still, Kurita realized, they weren‘t a threat. They were targeted on the cruiser Asahi but were obviously going to pass astern of her. Then, he realized his mistake. As the missiles glided past the stern of Asahi, they seemed to split in half, the bottom section falling away and growing a parachute as the top half went unstable and broke up. Torpedoes! The Australian Crocodile 16 inch torpedo was also dual-purpose, its passive homing system was capable of targeting surface ships as well as submarines. In his mind, Kurita could see the six torpedoes curving after the Asahi.
In point of fact, he was wrong. Two of the torpedoes had malfunctioned as they'd hit the water. The other four had overshot their target but picked up Asahi's screws and set off in dogged pursuit. Asahi's Captain had already spotted the threat and was turning into them, forcing the torpedoes to spend energy in a tight curve. The Australians liked to put big warheads on their weapons and they paid for those explosive charges with range and speed. The torpedoes were in a tail-chase, trying to catch the cruiser that had gone to emergency speed to avoid them. If they'd been capable of doing the maths, they would have given it up as being a bad job but they weren't and didn't. They continued the chase, and by doing so, forced Asahi to continue evading them. That put her on a reciprocal course to the rest of the Japanese squadron and meant she couldn't turn until the torpedoes ran out of fuel. That wouldn't be long but every second put her further out of the battle.
"‘More missiles inbound Sir."
‘Tell me something surprising why
don ‘t you.' The sarcastic rejoinder rolled around Kurita's mind but he kept the thought to himself. Eight more of the torpedo-carrying missiles were on their way, clearly targeted on the already damaged Agano. The weakened gunfire of the Japanese squadron got five of them but the remaining three splashed into the water around Agano's stern. One picked up the rhythmic beat of the destroyer's propellers and set off to intercept them. It ignored, or not register, the explosions as the other two torpedoes exploded in the target's wake. The Crocodile had a large warhead but it was still small by torpedo standards. Even so, it did what it was supposed to do; the homing system took it into the destroyer's screws and the Crocodile blew one of the blades of the port screw off.
Suddenly, the prop was completely unbalanced and started to thresh around on the end of the shaft. With each revolution, the spiraling action of the screw got worse, forcing the shaft further and out of line. There was only so much stress the shaft could take and that limit passed so quickly nobody on the destroyer could have stopped what was about to happen even if they'd had a chance to realize what was coming. The shaft suddenly gave, its previous mathematically-precise straightness rupturing into a 30 degree bend about a quarter of the way back from the screw.
The racing shaft now proceeded to rip open the inside of the shaft tunnel, shattering the bearings and throwing an insupportable load onto the main gears. They blew under the strain, cutting the power to the starboard propeller. Agano lurched to port and came to a halt, dead in the water, her machinery plant damaged beyond any feasible repair, the whole of her aft half flooding form the ruptured shaft tunnel.
"More missiles coming in Sir."
Shut UP! Kurita wanted to scream the order at the Ops Officer but he forced himself to remain calm. "Open fire on the Indian cruiser, fire our torpedoes at those three destroyers."
"Target the center destroyer Sir?"
"Yea....." Kurita looked at the display again. "No, the one to starboard. That way, any overruns have a chance at the group of ships further back. And get that cruiser under fire."
"Yes Sir, Seven missiles down sir, the one survivor, it's gone wild. Either malfunctioned or didn't acquire."
INS Mysore, Flagship, First Division, The Flying Squadron, South China Sea.
"My God, look at her go! That evens things up for Himgiri!"
The rolling cloud of black smoke over the Chipanese fleet covered the death-agony of Asama but her fate had been obvious. She'd blown up, even more spectacularly that the Indian frigate an hour earlier. Admiral Kanali Dahm felt the twinge of sadness every sailor felt while watching a ship dying and then ruthlessly dismissed it. War was war. Then, he corrected himself. An international incident was an international incident.
"We're pounding the destroyers in the center of the Chipanese line Sir. Some of the missiles are getting through and hitting. Looks as if two destroyers are dead in the water and I think we scored well on another. I think we got another cruiser as well, she's dropped out of the line and is wandering off. We may have got her in the steering gear."
For a moment, Dahm thought his binoculars were telling him that the other Chipanese gun cruiser had exploded as well. A rolling shroud of orange flame appeared to cover her, but it cleared almost immediately and the dark shape of the cruiser was unchanged.
"Hard a-port, all emergency power from the engines!" Mysore started to swing as the shells erupted into the water around her, a full broadside of twelve. The salvo was short but not by much and almost perfect for line. Radar fire control had a lot to answer for, Dahm thought.
Mysore's Captain had already seen the danger. "Helm, steer port ten, head for the splashes." That was the trick, the Chipanese gunners would correct their aim so where the previous broadside had landed was the one place the next one wouldn't. Or so the theory went. "Engines, more power! I want every scrap of steam you've got."
"Sirra, I dinnae think she can take much more of this." The message from the engineering officer came over in a broad Scots brogue that echoed out of the bridge speakers.
Dahm's jaw dropped. "What's with the Scots accent? Engines is a Tamil from Trincomalee for Heaven's sake. He's about as Scottish as Masanobu Tsuji."
"Tradition Sir. All the engineers like to think they've just come from the backstreets of Glasgow. Starboard fifteen, executing NOW."
Mysore swerved again as another group of shells exploded around her. Interesting Dahm thought. They're spot-on for range and bearing but their patterns are so loose, we can slide between the splashes. There had been rumors for a long time that the Chipanese cruisers had shot dispersion problems. Something to do with their hulls being too long, thin and lightly built. "Two more minutes and we're in 4.5 inch range. We'll hold fire though, once we cut loose with them, we'll be out of ammunition damned fast." Unless they hit us first of course.
INS Rajput, First Division, The Flying Squadron, South China Sea.
As Rajput's screws rotated, each blade entered a thin film of turbulence that streamed aft from the ship's hull. No designers, no shipyard, could make the steel-water interface entirely smooth so every ship had a shell of turbulent water around it and left a trail behind. Every time that blade hit that shell, it caused a small pulse of vibration called "blade beat" to pass down the length of the blade to the hub. From there on in, it went into the shaft and radiated up through the shaft towards the machinery. From there, it passed into the ship's structure and radiated forward from her hull. In fact, blade beat was the only component of the ship's machinery that radiated noise forward. It wasn't loud, but it was there and it made a very precise ticking noise, a very easy-to-isolate sound signature.
Approaching Rajput, the Japanese torpedo was listening for just that precise ticking noise. It had made most of the run out with its homing system turned off, but at a preset range, it had turned on and started listening. Three of its fellows were doing the same but the fifth had failed and was running unguided. At this range, its chance of hitting anything was indeed slender. The homing torpedoes, they were different.
The homing head was a series of arrays wrapped around the torpedo nose and it picked up the signature it was looking for. The Japanese had had an advantage when it came to designing homing torpedoes, in the 1940s they'd had the world's best old-fashioned straight-runner and its 24 inch diameter gave them much more room to work in. As a result, their torpedoes were a long-range and very accurate anti-ship weapon.
As the homing head isolated the noise, it made a slight change to course, putting the target in the middle of its acquisition cone. It also sent a signal to the oxygen-powered engine to pour on full power. The torpedo responded and it surged through the water. It was alone in doing so, the target was out of the acquisition arc of the other three working torpedoes.
With the target coming in at 38 knots and the torpedo going out at 48, it took only a few seconds for the range to close. That was when another system on the torpedo kicked in. The fuse on the warhead picked up the approaching magnetic signature of the steel ship, picked it up and measured it. Then did so again. The signal was increasing in strength, the target was coming. The homing head continued to do its job, making minor course corrections, placing the target dead ahead of the torpedo. As the destroyer passed over the torpedo, its magnetic signature peaked. Then, with the heavy steel of the gun turrets past, it dropped slightly. That drop was the signal and the 500 kilogram warhead exploded directly under Rajput's bridge.
The explosion formed a huge, expanding bubble in the water that lifted the middle of the destroyer up but left its bow and stern behind. That was a strain no ship could take and Rajput's back broke. Then the bubble started to collapse, only it had been flattened into an ellipse by the weight of the destroyer on top of it. Yet, by the laws of physics, all the parts of the bubble collapsed at equal speed so the bottom of the ellipse formed a water jet that punched through the bottom of the destroyer. The under-the-keel hit was more than overkill for the destroyer but overkill was the motto of the day. Here, in the Sout
h China Sea, eggshells were fighting with sledgehammers.
Bridge, INS Rana, First Division, The Flying Squadron, South China Sea.
"Oh My God." Captain Ditrapa Dasgupta watched appalled as Rajput disintegrated under the hammer blow. She'd been lifted up, broken by the under-the-keel explosion then dropped back in the water a split second before the second great surge had smashed her. He'd even had a chance to see the puff of black smoke from the funnel, driven out by the jet of water that had crushed her from beneath. Rajput had broken in two and both parts were twisted and going down fast.
"Sir, Signal from Admiral Dahm. Signal reads. ‘Engage the enemy more closely." That's all, Sir.'"
Dasgupta shook his head slightly. "Right, he wants to trade quotations does he? Signal back......"
"Sir, Signal from Ghurka. Signal reads ‘Ayooo Ghurkali.' Signal ends."
"Damn, they beat us. Send, ‘I have not yet begun to fight.' Prepare to open fire, guns and torpedoes."
"Sir, Starboard!'"
Dasgupta shot a glance out towards the threat. Three incoming destroyers, moving to cut off the two surviving Indian ships from their target. The geometry played quickly in his head, they couldn't quite cut them off, but they would snarl the Rana and Ranjit in a short-range gunfight and prevent them from getting to the cruisers. The countermove was obvious.
