Kirov III: Pacific Storm

Hiroshima and Nagasaki. If we do manage to evade the Japanese, let us not also forget the Americans. They will have a considerable score to settle with us too if they ever realize we are the same foe they faced in the Atlantic. Very well, gentlemen. Man your stations. Mister, Fedorov, you will maneuver the ship in this action.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Mister Karpov, you will make the tactical weapons deployments… Fight your battle.”

Chapter 12

The Missiles rose into the violet of the early morning with sudden fury, the sound of their rocket engines shaking the air when the main engines ignited. The current model of the S-300 system aboard Kirov was a vastly updated variant of the older S-300P missile, a rotating canister of eight missiles mounted in an underdeck vertical silo. They ranged out to 150 miles, and would streak out at a blistering speed exceeding Mach 6.0 to deliver a large 150kg warhead if the missile got anywhere near the target, and sending a hail of withering shrapnel in all directions. They would have little or no difficulty finding targets in a massed formation such as the one headed Kirov’s way now. They were so accurate that they could even be used against short range ballistic missiles if necessary, but the relatively slow planes in their long formation lines would make perfect targets.

One after another they fired and went on their scorching way, and for the flights of planes that saw them coming it was a nightmare the like of which they had never seen—save one.

~ ~ ~

Hayashi saw the evil contrails climbing up for them at a hideous rate of speed and the awful memory of the death of his squadron returned. The pulse of fear hit his gut, but he steadied himself. The Dragon has fired, he thought. Last time we were right on top of this demon, and these rockets tore my formation to pieces, then came the flak guns, so lethal that he was amazed his single plane had managed to survive intact. This time it will be even worse, he knew. Our planes are just waiting to be struck, all lined up like birds on a fence! In a flash he knew what he had to do, clutching the microphone at his throat he shouted out his warning.

“This is Hayashi! All squadrons—disperse, disperse, disperse! We will regroup at 12,000 feet!” And he immediately put his plane into a steep dive. The three fighters escorting him were surprised by the sudden maneuver, but they soon recovered, tipped their wings and dove with him. Above and behind, other squadrons close enough to hear Hayashi’s plaintive warning reacted in different ways. Some kept stubbornly on wondering if Hayashi had lost his nerve after all, and waiting for further orders from strike leader Sakamoto. Then they saw the missiles clawing up through the clear blue sky and their eyes widened with surprise.

Yamaguchi’s D3A2 squadrons off Shokaku were the first to be hit. Three S-300s ignited right across their flight path and the whole of 1st squadron’s nine planes flew directly into the hail of metal shrapnel. Of the nine Vals, five were hit, three so badly that they tailspinned down out of control, the remaining two were badly shaken and one was afire. 2nd Squadron was above and a thousand meters behind, and when they saw what happened to their brothers, and spied three more missiles heading their way, Hayashi’s warning made immediate sense.

“Follow me!” One man shouted as he put his plane into a steep dive. The missiles veered to a new intercept course that took them right through the remainder of 1st squadron, where two found planes and ignited in great fireballs blazoning in the clear blue sky.

Several thousand feet below, the torpedo bombers all got the word and began to disperse in groups of three, their shotai leaders taking them down well below the 12,000 foot elevation Hayashi had called for. One group was sought, and hit, by the last two S-300s, and all three planes were destroyed, cut to pieces by the intense shrapnel in the exploding missiles.

Yet the tally at the end of that first salvo from Kirov was disheartening. For eight missiles they had destroyed eight planes and damaged two others, one so badly that it had to turn for home, a bad fuel leak making its prospects for a safe landing now very unlikely. Instead it would look for the pursuit force and ditch in the sea near Kirishima, and its valuable pilot would live to fight another day.

Minutes later they saw more white contrails arcing up into the sky, and the pilots braced for another round, their engine throttles now open full as they bravely charged, yet not a single man had even sighted the ship they were supposed to be targeting!

Three of the escorting A6M2 Zeros bravely raced towards the oncoming missiles, their machine guns firing in a vain effort to engage the sky demons. But the missiles were simply too fast, faster even than the machine gun rounds that sought them out, and the fighters had no chance in the world to ever shoot them down. Yet what they did have was a chance to sacrifice themselves so that some of their brothers in the strike planes could push on to the attack. Three of the eight missiles found Zeros, blowing them to pieces, while the five remaining missiles pushed into isolated groups of two and three planes, their contrails twisting like vapor rope as they maneuvered, vectored in on targets, and blew them from the sky.

Three dive bombers died, along with two more torpedo bombers. A third Kate had its wings so riddled with shrapnel that it lost too much lift and fuel, and had to jettison the heavy torpedo it was carrying. It was effectively out of the battle, and the count was now eighteen planes lost for sixteen missiles. This left twenty eight Vals and twelve Kates still aloft and inbound as the strike wave crossed through the ninety mile mark. Nine more fighters remained as well, a total of forty-nine planes still headed Kirov’s way.

~ ~ ~

Aboard Kirov Karpov watched the results on radar, with Rodenko reading out these same numbers to tally the score. It was most disheartening.

“They seemed to react very quickly,” said Rodenko. “Look how they dispersed in all directions, not like the first two groups, which held formation the whole way in.”

“It seems they learn fast,” said Karpov. “Just like the British. How long before they come in range of the Klinok System?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Very well. Secure the S-300 system, Samsonov. We will shift the defense to our intermediate range systems now. I want to retain some long range defensive umbrella, and our S-300 missile inventory has reduced to just nineteen missiles. This is not the way to adequately repel an attack of this scale, but given our missile inventory, it is all we can do at the moment.”

Kirov’s systems were fully capable of defeating a force the size of Admiral Hara’s strike wave, though in modern combat the application of firepower in the defense would be much greater. If these had been sixty American strike planes off one of their nuclear carriers, the ship would have fired with everything they had. In modern combat it was always a do or die proposition, and the careful, measured application of defensive firepower was likely to only produce one result—a sunk ship. The tension mounted as they waited, watching the slow advance of the enemy on radar.

“They seem to be reforming at 12,000 feet,” said Rodenko.

“When will they spot us?” asked Karpov?

“At that height? The horizon is all of 130 miles away for them. They can see where our missiles contrails are leading now, and soon we’ll be big enough to pick out with an unaided eye on the sea.”

“One disadvantage of our missiles, eh?” said Karpov. “They lead the enemy right to our doorstep.” He stood up, looking at the ship’s chronometer. “With your permission, Admiral, I will begin the next engagement in ten minutes with the Klinok system.”

Volsky nodded. “Carry on, Captain.”

The Klinok missiles could strike targets at almost 20,000 feet, and the strike wave was right in the middle of this range envelope, moving inside forty miles. Sometimes called the Kinzhal as it was a variant of the older 3K95 missile system. The Klinok, or ‘Blade,’ had once been an export version of the weapon, but this latest variant was given that name when installed on the newly remodeled Kirov. A cold launch system, the missiles were ejected via gas catapult before their engines fired, and then sent on their way and controlled by two radars, one for long range acquisition and the second for target prosecution.