“TAO — USWE, Batteries released, kill contact
“UB, aye. Going to
The Sonar Supervisor’s report followed a second later. “USWE — Sonar, we have weapon start-up.”
A blue friendly-weapon symbol appeared on the CDRT. Chief McPherson watched it begin to move toward the hostile-submarine symbol that represented
The 29-MC speakers thundered to life. “All Stations — Sonar has hydrophone effects off the starboard quarter! Bearing one-five-three. Initial classification: hostile torpedo!”
“Damn! He’s shooting down our line of bearing!” Chief McPherson said. She keyed her mike. “Crack the whip! Bridge — USWE. We have an inbound hostile torpedo. I say again — crack the whip!”
“Bridge, aye!”
With a rising wail, the ship’s gas turbine engines spun up to flank speed.
The Officer of the Deck’s voice blared over the 1-MC. “All hands stand by for heavy rolls while performing high-speed evasive maneuvers.”
The deck heeled to starboard as the big destroyer came sharply about for the first high-speed turn demanded by the crack-the-whip torpedo evasion maneuver.
Chief McPherson latched on to the edge of the CDRT as the deck tilted one way and then the other. On the screen, she could see new POSS-SUB symbols appearing.
After nearly five minutes of evasive maneuvering, the Sonar Supervisor’s voice came over Chief McPherson’s headset again.
“USWE — Sonar. The hostile torpedo has not acquired. Seems like we dodged the bullet.”
“USWE, aye,” the chief said into her mike. “Looks like we’re not the only ones.” On the CDRT, it was obvious that
She paused to reassess the tactical situation. With half an ear, she heard the Electronics Warfare Operator report six more inbound Vipers, followed a few seconds later by the rumble of launching SM-3s. She keyed her mike. “UB — USWE, do you hold a good track on
“USWE — UB. That’s affirmative. I’ve got a firm solution on the target, but the submarine is outside our torpedo engagement envelope now.
We’re going to have to close the range before we can shoot again.”
“USWE, aye.”
Updated tracking data for
“Shit!”
She punched into the tactical net. “TAO — USWE. Based on current course and speed, I hold
Captain Bowie was at her side before she had even released the mike button. “Are we within torpedo range?”
The chief shook her head. “Negative, sir. We need to get closer. But, as soon as we close within range, he’s going to shoot at us again.”
“We can’t let that sub get away,” the captain said.
“I know, sir.”
“We don’t have much of a choice,” the captain said. “Shift the sonar to Kingfisher mode. We’re going into the minefield.”
“Sir, with all due respect, that’s not going to work,” Chief McPherson said. “The Kingfisher software is designed to detect mine-sized objects only. It will clip out anything with a cross-section larger than about six feet. We won’t be able to see the submarine, sir.”
“Then we’ll alternate: two sweeps in Kingfisher mode, and one sweep in Search mode. Your operators will have to look sharp; they’re only going to see the mines two-thirds of the time, and the target one-third of the time. Understand?”
Chief McPherson’s eyebrows went up. “I understand, sir.” She pointed to the CDRT display. “The submarine is entering the minefield now.”
The Tactical Action Officer appeared at the captain’s elbow. “Sir, Silkworm launcher four is out of business. We’re shifting fire to site number five.”
Captain Bowie nodded. “We need to knock those last two launchers out quickly. We’re headed into the minefield.”
“Sir?”
The captain patted the TAO on the shoulder. “Let chief here worry about the mines. You just keep the heat on those missile launchers.”
“Aye-aye, sir.”
Another report came over the Tactical Action Officer’s headset, snatching his attention away from the submarine and the minefield.
“TAO — EW. I have two active J-band radar seekers! And there’s the second flight, two more. Make that
“TAO, aye. Break. Air — TAO. Can you confirm incoming Vipers?”
“Affirmative, sir,” the Air Supervisor said. “SPY confirms, four Vipers inbound!”
“TAO, aye. Break. EW — TAO. Jam and chaff at will. We won’t be able to maneuver in the minefield, so forget about minimizing our radar cross-section.”
“TAO — EW. Copy all. Launching chaff.”
The TAO looked up at the four inbound missile symbols on the tactical display. “TAO, aye.”
Out on the forecastle, the 5-inch gun continued to pound out high-explosive shells.
The Sonar Supervisor’s voice came over the 29-MC speakers. “All Stations — Sonar. Mine off the port bow! Bearing three-one-two. Recommend turn to starboard!”
Chief McPherson keyed the net. “Bridge — USWE. Emergency Mine!
Come right to new course three-four-zero!”
“Bridge, aye!”
The ship heeled over in nearly instant response to the order. They had been on the new course less than a minute when the next report came.
“All Stations — Sonar, mine off the starboard bow! Bearing zero-one-five. Recommend turn to port!”
Chief McPherson keyed the net. “Bridge — USWE. Emergency Mine! Come left to new course three-one- five!”
“Bridge, aye!”
The ship heeled over to port and began to come about.
The XO looked at their progress on the Aegis display. “This is turning into a drunkard’s walk.”
“Yes, sir,” the TAO said. “But it looks like it’s working.”
Chief McPherson watched the CDRT. The ship’s track history was very nearly a blind stagger through the minefield, but they were slowly closing the range to the target. They would be within the torpedo engagement envelope soon, close enough to shoot at the submarine again.
But what good would it do them? The sub commander had obviously figured out how to outfox their torpedoes. If they shot another torp at him, he’d just evade it with his tricky little decoy tactic. Not only that, but he
