by James Rosone
The weapons were a modified version of the American Mk 60 Captor deepwater mine. The acoustic signatures of every Chinese naval vessel that had been recorded to date by Japan and its allies were programmed into the weapons’ digital brains.
Unlike the American Captor mines, the Wasps wouldn’t anchor themselves at a specified depth. Instead, the Sea Wasp mines would cruise at a programmed depth with their passive sonar activated until they either found their target or ran out of fuel. Once the mines detected an acoustic sound they recognized, their active sonar would turn on and they’d zero in on their prey.
Takahashi searched for the mines’ locations on the plot, then zoomed in on one of them. The projection was an approximation based on their speed and programmed heading. When the Toryu had raised their electronics masts, they had downloaded the latest satellite imagery of the Chinese Northern Fleet as it made its way to the Pacific. Given the position of the fleet and sonar’s ranging of subsurface contacts, Takahashi knew the Chinese were less than thirty minutes from being intercepted by the Sea Wasps. It was just one of many surprises the Japanese Navy had planned for the Northern Fleet.
Takahashi’s orders had been explicit: once the Sea Wasps had acquired their targets and attacked, he was to go on the offensive. The Sea Wasps had been programmed to give priority targeting to the Song-class Type 039 and Yuan-class Type 039A diesel-electric submarines—Japanese Naval Command had a high degree of confidence that the Sea Wasps would easily detect and prosecute these older, louder diesel subs that rarely left the protection of China’s territorial waters. Mori had a high degree of confidence as well. In fact, the whole concept of the Sea Wasps had been his idea. These weapons had superb acquisition sonars, and once they had gone into active homing, they could accelerate on their terminal attack runs to seventy knots.
As Mori looked at the plot, an icon for one of the Sea Wasps went from solid yellow to blinking yellow. He double-tapped the icon and brought up the weapon’s targeting data.
“Gentlemen, the Sea Wasps have caught the scent.”
Mori looked at his XO and TAO. Both men smiled, bowed slightly, and set off for their stations. Mori picked up a mic from its cradle and switched to the shipwide channel. Taking a breath, he paused.
“Battle stations!”
*******
Long March 14
East China Sea
Captain Duan Ju was at the periscope and had been for the better part of thirty minutes. Sonar had picked up nothing. The aircraft high above had detected nothing. The Great Sea Wall had detected nothing. The indicators had all been negative, yet he couldn’t help but feel that there was, in fact, something there.
The Northern Fleet would be able to push to the deep waters of the Pacific in about ten to fifteen more hours. Then they’d cross between Taiwan and Okinawa and into the Philippine Sea and the Pacific. They were still technically in Chinese waters, so Captain Duan was confident that remaining near the surface was relatively safe. Yet there was a gnawing feeling in the back of his mind that something was off.
He commanded an older Type 093A, the Long March 14. It was a good boat, but not the best. Duan’s pride had been damaged when he hadn’t been given one of the rim-driven propulsion Type 095As, but in this new war, he would show Beijing he was worthy. His submarine would bring glory to the People’s Liberation Army Navy.
He was traveling with ten Type 039As, five of them on either side. They had formed a line nearly fourteen nautical miles across as they prepared for their own hunt, a hunt for any potential Japanese or South Korean submarines or surface warfare ships that dared to get in their way. His flotilla of subs had put to sea nearly half a day ahead of the main fleet.
Prior to leaving port, Admiral Xun had been adamant about his mission. The fleet must transit unmolested. Even if he had to sink fishing boats along the way, he was cleared to take whatever actions were necessary.
Their patrol had been painfully slow once they’d sounded the bottom at two hundred meters. They had slowed their speed immensely to give their sonar operators the chance to listen for anything out of the ordinary, anything that might possibly pose a threat to the fleet that would be advancing behind them. The only thing they’d heard was a small convoy of Filipino merchant ships, which had been so loud, Captain Duan had wondered how they could possibly be seaworthy.
Flipping the handles up on the side of the periscope, he turned away to face the crew. “Officer of the Watch, make depth one-zero-zero feet.”
“Yes, Captain. Navigation, make depth one-zero-zero feet.”
“Make depth one-zero-zero feet, aye.”
As the sub began its descent, a sonar ping echoed throughout the Conn. This new and unexpected sound momentarily stopped everyone in place. It was followed by a second, third, and fourth ping, getting closer together.
“Captain, Sonar, torpedoes in the water!!”
Duan was briefly frozen with confusion. They hadn’t heard any indication of a submarine anywhere near them. The Great Sea Wall hadn’t heard anything either. How could this be happening?
“Range and bearing?” he demanded.
Before the sonarman could answer, they heard two massive explosions. More sonar pings bounced off their hull. Duan slapped the sonarman on the shoulder to get him to focus.
“Range… closing fast, bearing all across the bow, sir. Multiple contacts from eighty degrees to two hundred ninety degrees, Captain!”
“Left full rudder, all ahead flank! Thirty-degree down!”
*******
Combined Task Force
Vicinity Dai-shi-goto Bank
East China Sea
Admiral Mori sat at the desk in her stateroom; she had been lost in thought for the last forty minutes. She was looking at a picture from her days at the National Defense Academy—Mori and three other young women at the end of the first year. They all had big smiles on their faces. She and the three other women in the picture were the first women ever to be admitted to the National Defense Academy. She thought back to those days, when anything had seemed possible. It seemed like a million years ago that she had been that naïve young woman, and now she was about to take Japan to war for the first time in nearly eighty years.
Her rise was due to a mixture of absolute focus and determination, celebrity, and luck. Admiral Mori’s star had begun its ascent when she had been admitted to the National Defense Academy of Japan as part of its first female class back in 1992. From there, she’d excelled in everything she’d set out to do, proving that a woman could be just as capable as her male counterparts. She’d become a minor celebrity when she’d qualified for the Japanese national team for the 1994 Olympic biathlon. Her hopes for Olympic gold had been dashed when an accident on a practice run had damaged her right eye. This accident had dashed her hopes of becoming a pilot as well.
Upon her return to Japan, she’d found herself surrounded by unwanted fame as a hero to thousands of Japanese girls. She had been called to court and presented herself to meet the Empress Consort of Japan. She hadn’t known it, but the meeting with Empress Michiko would alter the course of her life in ways she could never have imagined. In a press conference Her Majesty had decided to invite her to, a reporter had asked about her a question. The Empress, not missing anything, had smiled at the reporter as she’d boldly compared Mori Risa to Amaterasu. This proclamation had caused a minor uproar in Japan—Amaterasu was the goddess of the sun in the Shinto religion.
Since that day, she had been called Amaterasu. Mori found that odd, since she was a simple girl from a humble family. But the combination of being a descendant of the infamous female warrior Nakano and an Olympic athlete favored by the royal family had almost put too much pressure on her. It had not sat well with the men she had initially served with in the Navy. Their jeers and bullying had almost made her leave the military altogether. One evening during her third year at the Academy, she was with two of her classmates when a group of young men had set upon them on the train. At first it was the
typical catcalling she’d gotten accustomed to. Then it turned into touching their hair, and when one of the men recognized her, he tried to assault her.
All her life, her maternal grandfather had encouraged her as a young tomboy in the martial arts of Japan: kenjutsu, iaido, kyudo, and most importantly, jiujitsu. The second the men had entered their train car, Mori had prepared herself mentally for what she hoped wouldn’t come—and when it did, she didn’t hesitate.
As her assailant drew close, she lowered her eyes and slumped her shoulders. To him, it was submission—to her, it was preparation for her attack. He placed his right hand on her left breast. She feigned recoiling as his friends all laughed behind him, which only emboldened him further. As he drew in closer, she moved so fast he couldn’t react. She trapped his right hand with her left, stepped back with her left foot and straightened his arm, reaching over his right elbow before she locked his arm in a classic kimura.
With all her strength, she twisted and shot her left leg forward again while swiveling her right leg in a circle. She wrenched his arm straight up, breaking his wrist and pulling his shoulder from its socket. As he howled in agony, she violently kneed him in his face, knocking him out cold. While his unconscious body hit the floor, she attacked his two friends before they were able to react or come to his aid.
Unbeknownst to her, the train had been equipped with video cameras and had recorded the entire incident. After the police had come and arrested the men and taken their statements, she had presented herself to the President of the Academy, who appeared to be considering dismissing her from the school over the incident. The next morning, the press had swamped the campus and were demanding to speak to the Sun Goddess from the train.
Once again, she found herself in the media, a celebrity among young women all over Japan, and once again, the unwanted fame had saved her. She was allowed to remain and finish her studies. When her name was called at her commissioning and graduation ceremony, her entire class stood and shouted, “Banzai!” It was the first time in her four years at the Academy she’d felt as if she belonged. It was also the last time she had cried. It was in that moment as she walked across the stage and bowed to the faculty as an officer in the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force that she knew she had found a home.
A knock on Admiral Mori’s door brought her out of the memory and back to the moment. “Come in,” she called.
Kotake opened the door and stuck his head inside. “Admiral, it’s time.”
When Admiral Mori entered the CIC, she received word that the Sea Wasp torpedo-mines had just gone into active homing. The battle had begun. While the task force had been at battle stations for over two hours, things had suddenly gotten a lot more real.
Japan had just fired at the Chinese. She nodded to Captain Nae Kaesong, who picked up the mic and gave the order to launch the F-35s. It was time to get the next part of the battle plan moving. As soon as the planes were in the air, they would head away from the North Sea Fleet while the destroyers, frigates, and corvettes began launching their antiship missiles in repeated salvos. The Korean PKG guided-missile patrol vessels began sprinting ahead at their impressive forty-four knots towards the North Sea Fleet.
Admiral Mori felt the ship increase speed under her feet as the engines revved up to full power. Sitting in her admiral’s chair in the CIC, she swiped the screen on her tablet and watched the feed of the pilots in the second wave boarding their aircraft on the flight deck. Though Japan was still officially a pacifist nation, the fighter pilots all took a ceremonial shot of sake from their crew chiefs, which she knew to be water, and tossed it over their shoulders and then climbed aboard their planes. The spirit of Bushido had made its way back to Japan. Though she knew many if not all of these brave men and women would not be returning to the Izumo, it made her smile to see their bravery and dedication to their duty and nation.
“Admiral Mori,” said Commander Ishita, her tactical weapons officer. “All ships report weapons ready, standing by to launch weapons once the aircraft are away.”
“Very well,” she replied. She stood and walked to the forward display, which was streaming the video from the flight deck. She felt the deck rumble as the first F-35 screamed down its deck and lifted off into the air, followed by a second and a third. Despite the fact that the Sea Wasps were about to sink Chinese submarines, joining the air war was another line crossed, and it could not be undone.
“Captain Ishita, as soon as the aircraft have cleared our airspace, begin firing our missiles!”
*******
Long March 14
East China Sea
Captain Duan had given the command for left full rudder at the perfect time. The torpedo that raced down on them had closed with them at a speed he could hardly fathom. It hit their sub at just the right glancing angle so as not to go off but to slide down the length of her hull. It broke apart on the port stern plane, where it bent backwards and connected with the propeller.
The collision was so violent, it sent the boat into an uncontrolled turn to port. The damage to the propeller was catastrophic. The boat immediately began to cavitate. As the propeller made its damaged rotations, whatever piece of the stern plane was still attached to the boat acted like a straw stuck through the spokes of a bicycle.
The Sea Wasp had gone completely erratic from the collision, but it was much smaller than the 14 and it soon righted itself. It had somehow managed to still function and operate after the glancing blow and immediately turned around to reacquire the prey it had been hunting.
“Emergency blow! Get us to the surface!” Duan yelled over the ping of the torpedo’s sonar.
For a moment, he felt the sensation of weighing a thousand pounds as all the water was vented from the ballast tanks to make the boat buoyant rapidly enough to escape the deep. Captain Duan glanced at the depth gauge on the hull near the periscope; they still had thirty meters until they surfaced. In that fleeting second, he let himself feel the hope that they would actually make it. That optimism was immediately dashed as he saw the sonarman yank the earphones from his head as if doing so would make the fact that the torpedo was about to kill them all less real.
The Sea Wasp detonated just beneath and forward of the engine room, ripping the aft quarter of the Long March 14 from the rest of the boat. Its upward motion was slowed as the gaping hole in the ship’s backside began to suck in water, pulling it back down to the depths below. In that instant, Duan had the odd sensation of being weightless. Then he felt nothing at all.
*******
JS SS-512
East China Sea
“Captain, nine explosions. Multiple ships breaking up.”
Commander Takahashi Heiji smiled. His gambit had paid off. The Type 91s would now be on full alert as they heard their comrades going to the bottom. Knowing submariners, he had programmed the second salvo of his Sea Wasps to listen for the sounds of the Type 91s flooding their tubes and opening their outer doors as their primary targets for prosecution. Those fish should be going to active homing within minutes. Now that the Northern Fleet knew it was under submarine attack, their ASW birds would be dropping not only sonobuoys but torpedoes on them soon enough.
“Retract the towed array. Retrieve any final messages from HQ and bring them to me at once.”
“Retract the towed array and retrieve messages, aye.”
The communications officer handed him a memo. As he glanced at it, Commander Takahashi took a deep breath before he read it to the Conn. “The Izumo has launched her aircraft. They will fire their missiles at the Northern Fleet shortly. They will do what they can to knock the Chinese ASW helos from the sky and clear a path for us to sink what is left. This is the first blow against the Chinese; we sink what we can, then cover the withdrawal of our fleet. That is all.”
He kept the last line of the message to himself; he knew it was from Mori. It read “406? Sink their dragons, sail yours home.”
406 was a reference to the Chinese nuclear missile submarine
Changzheng 406. If possible, Mori wanted her sunk.
*******
Harbin
Northern Fleet Flagship
125 Miles West of Cheju-do Island
Admiral Li Sun burst into the combat information center of the Harbin. He had sprinted from his quarters, where he had been taking his tea until his aide had told him that they were under attack. Incredulous, he had taken off at a dead sprint and nearly beaten his aide, a much younger man.
“Captain, status report!” Li demanded.
Captain Jin Hua all but ignored the admiral. He was watching a display as red blips were multiplying on it.
“Prepare countermeasures!” Jin barked. Looking over his shoulder, he finally noticed the admiral and addressed him accordingly. “Sir, our submarine screen of submarines has been attacked and appears to be getting wiped out. We have an inbound missile swarm of what we believe to be Japanese Type 91s approaching from our port bow. We’re also looking at a separate group of inbound missiles from the vicinity of Cheju-do Island. Right now, I’m preparing the fleet’s defensive countermeasures, and we have a flight of J-16s from the 3rd Fighter Division, roughly eight minutes out.”
“How in the hell are we under attack? Did the Americans join the Japanese?”
“Negative, Admiral. It appears to be a combined Japanese and Korean attack given the type of missiles being fired at us.”
Admiral Li was beside himself; he was nearly speechless with rage. The Ministry of State Security had practically bragged that relations between the Americans, Japanese and Koreans were politically crumbling and all but nonexistent between Tokyo and Seoul. If he’d been told yesterday that Korea and Japan would attack the Northern Fleet in the East China Sea, he would have fallen out of his seat with laughter. Now they were under attack and Chinese submarines had just been sunk in Chinese territorial waters.
He fumed with ire. I’ll show the Japanese the error of their ways in joining the Western Coalition and not allying with their Asian brothers, he vowed.
