The ADCAP made its final run at the frigate. It came up in depth to twenty feet below the surface and passed directly under the keel of the warship. A small upward looking hydrophone detected an object above the torpedo as an interferometer detected a large metal object within its sensitivity field. The two pieces of information activated the firing signal, which detonated the 1,000 pounds of PBNX explosive in the warhead. The explosion lifted the center of the hull and formed a large bubble of hot gases under it. As the bubble cooled and collapsed, it would not support the weight of the warship. The center portion of the ship fell into the bubble while the two ends were still supported by the water. This broke the hull in half just behind the bridge.
A loud explosion reverberated through the hull of the submarine.
“Conn, sonar, loud explosion on the bearing to the frigate,” the report from sonar was redundant.
“Raising number two scope,” Fagan said. Peering through the periscope, he could see the two ends of the frigate rise out of the water as the center section sank below the surface. Survivors were leaping clear of the rapidly sinking warship.
“Down scope. Best bearing to the pilot?” the XO inquired.
“Best bearing zero-three-eight, range one-nine-five-hundred yards,” LCDR Jacobs replied.
“Come right, steer course zero-three-eight. Make your depth 400 feet. Ahead flank,” the XO ordered in rapid succession. “Nav, you have the conn. Head to the point for the pilot and come to periscope depth. Get the search and rescue detail ready. I want to get that pilot aboard as quickly as we can. I’ll be in the Captain’s stateroom.”
23 Jun 2000, 1025LT (0225Z)
As Bill Fagan stepped out of control, he heard Warran Jacobs making preparations to rescue the downed Tomcat flier.
Fagan knocked at the stateroom door and parted the curtains to enter. “Skipper, how are you feeling?”
He took a seat in one of the folding chairs, carefully bypassing the over-stuffed office chair that was the Captain’s domain. Hunter lay on the fold-down bunk.
Hunter growled, “Still a little dizzy. Damn fine time to get weak at the knees.” He raised his head from the pillow. “Sounds like you did a great job though. Well done, Bill. I take it that you are heading for that pilot?”
“That’s what I intended, but I wanted to check with you before I surfaced in a war zone,” Fagan replied as Doc Pugh entered the stateroom.
“Get over there and get ready,” Hunter replied. “I’ll be out there in a few minutes.”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Doc protested. “You are staying right here. This is one case where the Doctor's orders supersede. The XO can handle this. The next time you pass out, you might not be so lucky.”
Slumping back down in his bunk, Hunter grudgingly acquiesced, “Doc, for once I have to agree with you. This dizziness is just not clearing yet. XO, you run this. I’ll advise from here. What’s your plan?”
Fagan explained, “Pretty simple, really. Thought we would run over there. Take a look around and blow to the surface. Pull the guy aboard and then dive." Fagan started on a new tack. "I’m concerned with what to do about the survivors from the frigate. They’re too far from land to swim and the longer they stay in the water, the more that will not make it."
Hunter responded, “Locating the pilot will be the hard job. You need to get in the area as quickly as possible. He should have a sonar SAR transponder, so search on that frequency with sonar." Hunter hesitated for a moment. "I don't recall the exact frequency, somewhere around 15 kHz, I think. Ask Chief Holmstad, he'll know."
Gazing up at the overhead, Hunter continued to discuss the anticipated rescue. He was thinking through the process as he talked. "We don't know the condition of the pilot. If he's conscious and he knows we are in the area, he may be making noise in the water, too. The easiest way, though, is to call him on his SAR radio.
"Tell Alpha Alpha on NIMITZ what you are doing. They can give you the SAR frequency and ID info on the pilot. They can also tell you if the other F-14s have contact with him. They’ll be buzzing around him like a bunch of mad hornets,” Hunter said. “Tell them that we intend to pick up as many of the survivors as we can once we have the pilot onboard. You’ll need air cover the whole time. Tell them to set it up.”
23 Jun 2000, 1035LT (0235Z)
Roland mustered his platoon at the prison cave’s mouth. The battle-hardened SEALs were doing their best to help the missionaries prepare for a dash to the airfield. There wasn’t much time and a lot of ground to cover. And there was no telling if they would have to fight their way out.
Boats was in a bad way. He was losing a lot of blood and slipping in and out of consciousness. The SEALs had done all they knew how to help him. The only way to save him was to get him to the ESSEX as fast as possible.
A good looking young red-head emerged from the cave and rushed over to where Boats lay. She threw open a small first-aid kit and then rolled the SEAL over on his stomach.
“Help me out here,” she said to Roland. “I’m a nurse and if we don’t do something quick, he’ll die.”
“What do you need?” Roland grunted. He knelt down beside her.
“Water, I need clean water,” she answered, pointing at the gaping exit wound. “Wash that out so I can
