Echo Class (48 page)

 

THE
fifth grenade exploded slightly behind the K-122.

“Contact One is directly astern of us, sir!” Orlov said, his voice slightly higher.

He would fire two torpedoes from his aft tubes and two from his forward tubes at Contact Two, which was now less than a thousand meters in front of him.

“Prepare to initiate a targeting pulse. One pulse and one pulse only,” Bocharkov said, holding up one finger.

He listened as Orlov told Sonar.

Bocharkov turned to Ignatova. “Pass the word along to the crew to prepare for imminent attack.” He turned back to Orlov. “Be prepared for a quick left turn immediately after launch. I want you to bring the speed up to twenty knots in the turn, then immediately reduce it to ten. Understand?”

“Aye, sir.”

Though it seemed to have heard his plans, the American sonar pulse still caught him by surprise. It hit the K-122, the deadly sound reverberating throughout the ship. If he had had any doubt the Americans were about to attack, the single pulse erased it. The Americans had a targeting solution.

“Active sonar, now! Single pulse!”

 

 

“SIR!
You hear it?” Burnham shouted. “The contact has sent out a single sonar pulse.
Coghlan
reports the pulse did hit it.”

The Soviet captain had a targeting solution.

“Our sonar?”

“Sir, we have a targeting solution. The contact is five hundred feet ahead of us, in a right-hand turn, crossing away from our bow. Depth estimated at eight hundred feet.”

Admiral Green grunted. “If he is at eight hundred feet, then any torpedoes he fires are going to have to ascend to reach their target, and that ascent won't be straight up. You know what that means, Danny.”

MacDonald nodded. The
Dale
was too close for the submarine to hit them. They were inside the torpedo range for a Soviet torpedo to activate, lock on, and hit them, but not too close for the
Dale
torpedoes.

“Combat, this is the captain. Launch one port-side torpedo and one starboard-side torpedo. Execute the attack plan!”

“Aye, sir,” came the quick retort.

 

 

“SIR!
Sonar reports torpedoes in the water!” Orlov said, his voice loud, shattering the silence within the control room.

“Firing solutions Contact One and Contact Two!” Bocharkov said, his voice calm and forceful.

“Firing solutions gained on Contact Two. Contact One is aft, estimated range four hundred meters.”

Contact One, the leader of these two American warships, was too close for his aft torpedoes, but maybe the captain of the warship would not know how deep they were. Active sonar had a reputation for giving erroneous information on submarine depth. It was a chance he would have to take.

“Launch decoys!”

A few seconds passed before Orlov reported, “Decoys away.”

“Fire tubes one and two fore, tubes three and four aft.”

He watched as Ignatova reached up. It seemed time had slowed down. He could fire tubes one and two aft. Put torpedoes in the water, but it would be a waste, though it might cause Contact One to take some sort of evasive action. Any evasive action might even open up an opportunity for one of the torpedoes to hit.

“Sonar reports the American torpedoes are circling; they are in a search mode.”

It would not be long before that search mode took the torpedoes lower and lower, until they penetrated the layer above them.

“Left full rudder! Make your speed twenty knots!” Bocharkov shouted.

 

 

“
COGHLAN
reports two ASROC launched, sir,” Burnham reported.

MacDonald looked to his right. The smoke trails of the rocket-fired torpedoes separated from the canisters on the foredeck of the
Coghlan
. One was heading forward of the
Dale.
It should splash forward of the submarine.

“Officer of the Deck, left full rudder, all ahead full.”

The
Dale
tilted to starboard as the destroyer cut a sharp left-hand turn.

The other contrail showed the second ASROC heading near the exact location of the submarine. So far, everything was going according to MacDonald's plan, but why hadn't the submarine fired? He would have launched by now.

“Bridge, Combat! We have torpedoes in the water.” The 12MC switched off for a second and then Burnham came back on line. “Their torpedoes, not ours!” he clarified.

MacDonald leaned down to the 12MC. “Lieutenant Burnham, where is the contact now?”

“Sir, last contact had the—”

The Navy Red speaker squawked, the squeal drowning out Burnham. “
Dale
, this is
Coghlan
. We have torpedoes inbound. Taking evasive action.”

MacDonald watched the other destroyer lean to starboard as Kennedy put the
Coghlan
into a hard left turn. MacDonald knew the
Coghlan
would be accelerating to maximum speed. The left turn was bringing the bow of the destroyer directly toward the inbound torpedoes. Puffs of smoke rose from amidships of the
Coghlan
as the destroyer deployed decoys port and starboard of itself. The bow of the
Coghlan
would reduce the noise of the propellers and allow the decoys to act more effectively. He hoped Kennedy was right.

“Combat, this is the captain. Fire remaining over-the-sides.”

At that moment the
Dale
passed over the underwater obstacle the K-122 had hit earlier.

“Torpedoes launched.”

Out the starboard side window, MacDonald saw the two over-the-sides splash into the water and disappear beneath the slight waves. His stomach tightened. This was the fear the instructors said came with an attack, but
ignore it
, they preached.
Stay to the plan.
You fight like you train. Do it by rote if you have to, but keep doing it. The tightness seemed to lessen for a moment.

 

 

“MULTIPLE
torpedoes in the water. We have a splash ahead of us with fast blade rates!” Orlov reported.

“Come to course one-eight-zero, speed twenty-five knots!” Bocharkov commanded.

“Making my course one-eight-zero, aye.” Orlov turned to the helmsman. “Left full rudder! Make your speed twenty-five knots.”

Behind the K-122, two decoys filled the void as the Soviet Echo submarine sought to sprint away from between the two American destroyers.

“Depth three hundred fifty meters!”

“Where is the layer?” Bocharkov asked.

“Two hundred meters,” Tverdokhleb answered, drawing Bocharkov's attention for a moment. Tverdokhleb leaned back in his chair, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. “Two hundred meters,” he repeated.

“Make your speed five knots, come to course two-six-zero!”

“Aye, sir. Making my speed five knots, right turn to two-six-zero.”

“Bring her up to two hundred meters once we are steady on course two-six-zero.”

Taking the submarine up would reduce the noise signature of the shafts and propellers by pointing them downward away from the torpedoes.

“Sonar reports torpedo inbound off our starboard bow, Captain. It is heading our way, sir,” Orlov reported.

“Very well,” Bocharkov said.

The K-122 began to level off as it steadied on the new course.

“Steady on one-eight-zero,” Orlov said.

Bocharkov looked at the gauge. The boat was still going too fast as it decelerated from twenty-five to five knots. He needed to reduce the cavitation the propellers were making in the water.

He had to show confidence. Behind him he had left two decoys and a huge knuckle in the water from the high-speed turn.

Behind the K-122 the two decoys sped aft from where they'd been launched. One ran directly into the sunken derelict K-122 had hit minutes earlier, lodging itself in what remained of a bridge area. The other sped under the
Dale
, continuing aft.

 

 

“SIR!”
Lieutenant Burnham said. “We have the submarine behind us. Directly aft of us, sir!”

“How is that possible?” Admiral Green said.

“Left full rudder, speed fifteen knots!” MacDonald ordered. If the contact was behind them, then they would be its next target. He glanced out of the starboard-side hatch. The
Coghlan
was in a right-bearing drift down the beam of the
Dale
.

An explosion to the right side of the
Coghlan
caused everyone to stare out the starboard-bridge-wing side. Water spiraled upward, spreading apart its fingers like some Las Vegas display.

Seconds later the left decoy successfully pulled away the Soviet torpedo, and the explosion sent a similar water fountain display to accent the sound.

“
Dale
,
Coghlan
. Unless otherwise ordered intend to launch additional ASROCs!”

MacDonald grabbed the Navy Red handset. “Permission granted!”

That was good. He needed the other destroyer's ASROCs in the water. The
Dale
was too close to do any good with its rocket-fired torpedoes.

“Our torpedoes have locked on something, sir.”

“Make sure they don't lock on us,” MacDonald said quickly.

“No, sir, they are aft of us and heading toward the target.”

 

 

THE
Soviet torpedoes launched from the aft tubes changed course to follow the
Dale
. They locked onto the destroyer when it went into its sharp left turn at high speed.

The
Dale
and
Coghlan
torpedoes locked onto the decoy lodged in the derelict. They immediately changed course, chasing the decoy.

The first explosion was followed almost immediately by three near-instantaneous ones. MacDonald and Green dashed onto the starboard bridge wing. Water exploded skyward, arching out like some wet fireworks display from beneath the sea. The
Dale
shook and vibrated from being in the vicinity of the explosions.

“Damn,” Green said.

Both officers gripped the top of the railing, holding their balance as the concussions rode through the ship.

MacDonald stuck his head back inside the bridge. “Right full rudder, speed six knots, steady up on reverse course.”

The Navy Red speaker blared to life. “
Dale,
this is
Coghlan
. We have multiple explosions behind your position. Do you require any assistance? What is your status?”

“Coming to course zero-zero-zero.”

The sounds of cheering on the topside joined those inside of Combat. MacDonald grinned. The
Dale
had done its mission.

“Continue left to course one-one-five,” MacDonald corrected. He needed to be back on the reciprocal course they were on when they launched their torpedoes. Now he needed proof they had destroyed or seriously damaged the Soviet submarine.

 

 

“WE
have explosions,” Orlov said as the first concussion hit the K-122, rolling it right and left, sending the bow and stern undulating up and down as the nearby explosions pushed everything up, down, and away from the submarine's center.

A cheer went up within the control room.

“Quiet!” Bocharkov snapped. “There is still another American warship up there.”

Heads hung down, but not without broad grins on them.

Bocharkov was proud. He took a deep breath. The K-122 had done its mission and escaped. His and Ignatova's eyes locked. The XO smiled and rendered a two-finger salute.

“Let's get out of here,” Bocharkov said, then issued several orders, keeping the K-122 inside the layer as it slowly left Subic Bay and entered the deeper waters of the Pacific Ocean.

MACDONALD
walked down the gangplank, opened the door, and slid into the backseat alongside Admiral Green.

“How you doing, Danny?”

“I'm okay, Admiral.”

“Over thirty dead and over one hundred wounded, according to the latest situation report.”

“I can't believe this has happened.”

“Must have been accidental. The USS
Liberty
is limping away from station. The SITREP says it was attacked by both Israeli fighter bombers and Israeli torpedo patrol boats.”

“Where were our forces?”

Green shrugged. “I was told we launched phantoms toward them, but McNamara himself ordered them back. Rumors have it that President Johnson even got involved and ordered the aircraft back.”

MacDonald shook his head. “Even if it was an unfortunate and accidental attack, I cannot see our navy turning its back on one of its own ships.”

MacDonald caught a hint of moisture in the old warrior's eyes as the admiral turned away to stare out of the left rear window of the sedan. “Sometimes politicians view us as castaways for political expediency, even as they wave their fists in the air shouting their love for us boys in uniform.”

“I heard the skipper was wounded in the attack, but stayed on the bridge and directed the response.”

Green nodded. “Lots of confusion and conjectures going on right now on what has happened. Admiral Moorer, chief of the Joint Staff, has ordered all quiet on the subject until all the facts are known.”

“I just don't understand how they could not see the American flag flying from the mast or—”

Green turned back to MacDonald. The glistening in the eyes was gone. “Let's change the subject, Danny. Lots of things on the
Liberty
attack don't add up yet, but I have full confidence in the ability of the United States Navy to lay all the facts out for all to see.”