First Salvo (32 page)

The computer could have told Carleton how long it would take for the two opposing forces to meet.
Kharkov
and her escorts were a little over two hundred miles to the east.

Both groups were making about twenty-five knots, closing in at more than fifty miles each hour. In four hours, they would be on top of each other. In two hours or less, though they would not yet be in sight of each other, they would be within shipboard missile range.

The proximity of the opposing surface forces to each other would have meant a great deal in the early stages, if they had been the main elements. However, there were submarines capable of moving much faster than the ships on the surface that could alter the situation at any moment. Some of the subs had not been detected since the satellite-intelligence capability had been lost. The overwhelming influence in the modern theater of war was the air-to-surface missiles. At any time now, they could be on their way with some probability of a hit. As each second passed, the odds increased that the initial missiles of the salvo would be launched.

The link with perimeter aircraft disclosed a large number of Soviet aircraft breaking through the barrier. The picture was revealed clearly on both
Yorktown
and
Kennedy.
Though Pratt and Carleton were in direct contact, their responsibilities differed considerably. The Admiral was in charge of overall strategy. Carleton was to coordinate the defense of
Kennedy
’s
battle group.

The red light on Carleton’s console winked in concert with the buzzer that sounded through CIC, and within seconds of the warning that the attack had commenced, a voice in the darkened room announced to no one in particular, “Missiles away!” It had begun.

There was a perceptible sigh in CIC, a collective release of tension. The waiting was over. Now they could act.

“Time to impact—twenty-four minutes.” The voice was cold, impersonal. It was the speaker’s job to announce the information, even if others could note the time simply by pushing a button.

A tactical signal came over the primary voice net for all ships. On their direct line, Admiral Pratt said, “Tom, I’m shifting the screen around, moving everybody a bit. No reason to make it easy for them. I want you to act independently. There are two of their Alfa-class subs out here that we’ve completely lost.” Those were titanium-hulled attack subs, extremely fast, unusually quiet, and their hull alloys did not distort the magnetic field—making them even harder to locate.

“Probably went silent,” Carleton responded.

“That’s exactly what my man Loomis figures. They could pop up anywhere.”

Carleton gave his executive officer free reign to conn the ship. The ship’s movements made no difference to the computer as long as it continued to provide the necessary functions to back up the system’s operations. Able to detect and track a couple of hundred targets at a time, it now would face its greatest test. The Soviet Backfires were filling the air with missiles, some fired from maximum altitude, others from lower levels. Some of the bombers swooped down to sea level to release their missiles below the acquisition level of most shipboard radars. And there were a select number of bombers in each flight that retained their weapons. They would continue to close in on the group, conducting evasive action so that some of them might get close enough to fire at point-blank range—close enough to penetrate the security envelope that allowed ships’ computers time for a target solution for their own defensive missiles.

Dale
,
one of the perimeter anti-air-defense ships, was the first to come under fire. While the carrier and the AEGIS cruiser were primary targets, it was imperative to eliminate a ship like Dale. She carried dual missile launchers fore and aft and she could reload the rails of one launcher while the other took the target under fire. She was a guided-missile cruiser that could handle herself under pressure.

Three incoming cruise missiles were locked on
Dale.
Sea Sparrows slid onto her rails. Her fire-control radar relayed guidance data as each one was fired. While these small antimissile birds raced for their targets, the launchers returned to load position. Two aircraft were coming in low on the water, intent on the main body to the rear of
Dale.

Again she fired, this time with standard missiles locked on the Soviet aircraft. The launchers automatically snapped back to reload. Sea Sparrows slid onto the forward rails, Standards to the rear.
Dale
’s
radar was cluttered with targets now. Computers determined the threat level as she fired—reloaded—fired—reloaded—

But now an equally dangerous threat presented itself to the cruiser. ASW helicopters had been prosecuting a contact about thirty miles off
Dale
’s port bow, which eventually escaped. When contact was regained, the sub was seen to be closing in on the cruiser at high speed. As a radio warning from the helos came to her attention, the ship’s sonar established contact. Within moments, the telltale sound of high-speed screws signified torpedoes in the water.

While maneuvering to defend herself from torpedo attack,
Dale
continued to fire her missiles. There were hits. They could not be seen with the naked eye, though smoke was visible soon after, but radar confirmed when a target went off the screen.
Dak
was one of many ships launching a hail of missiles, and only the computers would ever know which missile and which ship achieved success that day.

Dale
was the first ship in her group to be hit. A missile slammed into her stern between the after launcher and the fire-control radars, detonating on the second deck. The blast decimated engineering spaces, and almost instantly the ship was out of control, her starboard shaft bent, steering control lost. Fuel oil fed flames that threatened the magazine below the aft launcher
.

As damage-control parties fought the flames, attempting to get through to after steering, a tremendous explosion shook the hull as at least one torpedo exploded the NIXIE decoy. But another passed by, undeterred by the explosion, to strike just aft of the bridge below the Harpoon missile canisters. One of the missile engines ignited, sending the vehicle careening into the rear of the pilothouse. The torpedo blast destroyed the engine room that controlled the port shaft. With both shafts damaged,
Dale
gradually slowed until she was dead in the water. A second torpedo blew up in her bow. There was no longer power for the weapons.

As she settled quickly, heeling to port, the abandon-ship order was given. A second missile dove through her pilothouse, the blast detonating the warheads remaining in the ASROC launcher. Fires swept back through the survivors.
Dale
had done her duty.

ABOARD U.S.S.
JOHN HANCOCK

“M
issiles away,” the report echoed through
Hancock
’s CIC from one of the helos even before it painted on the radars. Two more voice reports followed, each from a different location.

The submarines had initiated the action. That was to be expected. They could detect and track a surface ship well before they themselves were ever located. That was to their advantage. Once they were found out, they had no other choice but to run.

Nelson had four ships in line at broad intervals. They were at high speed and each ship had a helicopter working in tandem with it in much the same pattern Nelson had taught them the previous day. It was the equivalent of eight ships, as far as Nelson was concerned. That made it even, perhaps gave him a slight advantage, because the subs had no idea where the helicopters might be until they heard the ping of the dipping sonar. If a helo was lucky and lowered his sonar near a submarine, a homing torpedo could be launched well before the sub could piece together what was taking place.

But on the other hand, a cruise missile launched from beneath the surface also presented a formidable advantage.

There were four of these missiles now rocketing toward the surface ships. The lock-on warning buzzer indicated
John Hancock
was a target. Chaff rockets were automatically fired to draw the missile off target. Deep within the ship, a computer fed continual solutions into the missile-defense system. First
Hancock
,
then
Conolly
,
then
Spruance
fired Sea Sparrows at the oncoming missiles.

A submarine-launched cruise missile is intended to fly at low level, low enough to deter radar acquisition, or at least make a fire-control solution complicated. They are not exceptionally fast as missiles go, but they are persistent, designed to correct their course against the actions of their target. They are difficult to defend against. Only one of the Sea Sparrows met with success.

Three missiles bore in on the destroyers now. An anxious
Conolly
fired a second missile—too late. Her Phalanx system opened fire; this time she was lucky—the hail of bullets destroyed the warhead within a hundred yards of the ship.

Spruance
had less success. Her radar lost contact with the incoming missile only for an instant, but the time lost in reacquisition delayed the Gatling gun just long enough. When it did open fire, the missile was diving for Spruance’s flight deck. It penetrated through officers’ quarters, exploding in the ship’s laundry. The force of the blast blew upward, unseating the huge ASROC launcher that allowed the luxury of firing torpedoes from a distance.

The last missile was drawn off her target by the chaff and exploded harmlessly, well away from
Hancock.

Two of the helos were able to pinpoint one of the missile-firing submarines. They released torpedoes less than a minute after the missiles had broken surface. The run time was quick. A resounding underwater explosion rewarded them.

Conolly
’s helo reported a solid contact close to its sonar but was experiencing trouble with the torpedo-release mechanism. Within moments, the mother ship fired her ASROC as a backup. The rocket-propelled torpedo, keying in on the ship’s helo, hit the water less than half a mile from it. Immediately the homing device locked on the target and moments later a second submarine had been hit.

There had been eight Soviet subs divided into three wolf packs. One sub remained on the port bow, two directly ahead, and the helos were bothering them. The intact three-sub pack on the starboard bow had apparently now raced out to the starboard beam of the approaching destroyers. In a one-two-three effort, they launched missiles, then sonar showed them closing in for a probable torpedo attack.

On the port beam, the remaining submarine of the two-boat pack was able to break into torpedo range of
Spruance.
Unable to use her ASROC, the ship was forced to recall her helo to her defense. As the craft’s sonar lowered onto the water, the first sound that came was that of torpedoes. The water was seemingly filled with them, the high-pitched scream cluttering the entire scope. The first hit
Spruance
on the port side, exploding into the forward engine room with a force that knocked the outboard turbine engine into the other. Blazing fuel wiped out the entire crew in that space. Still reeling from the force of the first torpedo, a second struck amidships. The hits were so close that the port side of the ship opened to the sea for more than fifty feet. Watertight compartments, intended to limit flooding, were ripped open by the pressure. Immediately,
Spruance
listed heavily to port, her speed cut to only a few knots to slow the flooding. She was out of the battle.

Nelson saw that the integrity of his line was breaking up. The Soviet tactics were obvious; they intended to separate the ships, isolate them. One submarine, the one that hit
Spruance
,
remained to port. The hell with it! Two more were dead ahead but were dodging helos. The immediate threat was to starboard—still three of them out there. They had just launched missiles and were now closing in!

He wheeled his three remaining ships to starboard. In a ragged column, they raced down the throats of the closing wolf pack.
Briscoe
was point and the only ship not yet required to defend herself. Turning slightly to port, she fired her Sea Sparrow launcher. The closest incoming missile had been diverted by chaff and was flying an erratic course. The Sparrow brought it down.
Conolly
’s Phalanx activated as the next missile raced directly at her. She had turned to starboard to open her radar-controlled gun. The missile burst at forty yards, showering the superstructure with debris. The interior of her pilothouse was shattered.
Conolly
, with no control from her bridge, steamed blindly away from the column.

Nelson ordered one of the helos ahead of them to cover for the damaged ship.
John Hancock
and
Briscoe
continued at flank speed toward the submarines. At maximum range, they fired rocket-propelled torpedoes from their ASROC launchers. In concert with the two ships, the one helo in front also dropped its remaining torpedo.

Before the ship’s torpedoes even hit the water, their sonarmen identified high-speed screw noises. The Soviets had torpedoes in the water ahead of them. Doctrine said that each sub would fire a spread of at least two torpedoes—as many as six could be heading toward the ships.

The second helo coming into the area was vectored over a sonar contact by
Hancock
and, without taking the time to dip her sonar, dropped another homing torpedo. It was contrary to everything Nelson had learned, but he had once run a program to determine hit possibilities in such a case; the chances weren’t much less in this situation than in a controlled attack. There were at least three submarines down there making noise that would attract a homing torpedo.

An explosion astern of the damaged
Conolly
accounted for the first enemy torpedo; it also meant one less decoy. A second blast lifted the ship’s stern clear of the water. Seemingly before she settled, a third torpedo struck under the forward gun mount. The resulting explosion was a combination of torpedo warhead and the forward magazine. Nelson heard the bridge report that
Conolly
had neither a bow nor a stern; what remained was swept with flames. Two ships left!