Suvorov grabbed his binoculars and stared ahead. Just on the horizon was a smudge of something. It suddenly lit up.
“Fire the remaining two missiles on a bearing of 202,” Suvorov shouted.
The last two remaining antiship missiles belched out of their vertical launch cells. Once in the air, they turned to the prescribed bearing and dove to just one hundred feet above the water. Both headed toward Iowa.
Suvarov watched the missiles leave the ship and hoped he could get away from the bombardment. He began giving orders to turn the ship. Almost immediately a sixteen inch round struck the bridge of the ship, traveling twenty feet into the structure before exploding. It ripped off the bridge and she ship’s radar control room as well as starting a fire in two anti-air missile magazines. A second shell struck the now empty SS-N-19 missile launchers, tearing through the empty cells and exploding just over the keel. The ship buckled and appeared to bend just forward of the bridge.
“Incoming missiles!” shouted the phone talker.
Rhodes looked down at the cloaking system and saw the green light. There wasn’t much more he could do but hold on. Coming at over Mach one, the missiles seemed to be headed straight for the ship. Rhodes grabbed the 1MC mike and shouted, “Missiles inbound. All hands brace for impact.”
The first missile streaked in and flew just over the after stack, still seeking a target. The second missile flew a little lower and looked like it would hit the bridge. Instead, it flew above them, a fin clipping one of the radio antennas, sending the missile spinning down into the sea. The explosion on impact shook the whole ship. The radio antenna snapped off just five feet above its base and fell over onto turret two.
The men stood up from their slightly protected positions and looked out. Almost to a man they let out a “Whew!”
The guns fired again without missing a beat.
Misha Slovatin had been assigned duties in the emergency steering compartment of the ship. He and the four others in the space were sweating from the hot hydraulic pumps and rams turning the giant rudders on the ship. The first round had caused the ship to shudder, but the lights were still on and the ship was still moving. The second hit picked them up and flung them down. The lights still burned, but they could feel the ship slowing.
A third hit put the lights out for good. The pumps stopped and everything got quiet. Even the ventilation quit working. The emergency lights came on and the senior petty officer looked at the others. “Grab the survival gear and let’s get out. There’s nothing we can do now,” he said slowly.
The men began making their way up the ladders to the stern of the ship.
The third round had struck the ship amidships and hit the reactor containment vessel. It was armored, but not enough. The vessel tore from its mountings and was forced partially through the bottom of the ship. The reactor split open releasing radioactive steam from its primary loop.
It was a lucky shot. The Moskva was struck on the first salvo. The sixteen inch round penetrated down into the engine room amidships before going off. Flames and debris rose high into the air and the ship lifted up in the middle and settled back down. A second round struck an anti-air missile magazine. The ship erupted as the magazine detonated all at once. When the smoke settled, there was nothing left of her to be seen.
Slovatin and his mates made it through the ship to a hatch on the stern. The ship was beginning to list to port. Great geysers of water were being flung into the air around the ship as more rounds came in. Fire was pouring from somewhere forward and smaller explosions were felt and heard. Crewmen were running all over trying to escape the carnage. They saw huge clouds of steam rising from a gaping hole amidships and being blown forward, so they ran to a life raft canister just forward of the stern. It took all four of them to shove it over the side. They were gratified to see the capsule pop open and the raft inflate in the water. They were getting ready to go in when the fourth sixteen- inch round hit the gun mount one deck up from where they were standing. Misha felt himself being flung through the air before he lost consciousness.
The Iowa slowed and watched as the huge ship began to sink. The cruiser and the Freedom had launched missiles toward the other ships. Several were reported sinking. Rhodes looked out over the water and gave a sad look at the doomed ship. He could see men scrambling all over the ship trying to push life rafts into the water. Unfortunately, most of the rafts were amidships and not reachable because of the steam and flames. He turned to the OOD. “Cease fire. Get hold of the deck department. I want some utility boats in the water to help pick these men up. This just turned into a rescue mission,” he said. Turning around he saw Father Danner standing behind him. “Father, I need you to get to the fantail and coordinate the efforts to get all those men aboard,” he said pointing toward the stricken ship. “Can you do that for me?”
Danner’s face broke into a grin. “No problem, Captain. Can we set up the messdecks as a holding station?”
Rhodes nodded. “Whatever you need. Just make it quick. We might have company.”
“On the way,” Danner said as he left the bridge and began making his way back aft.
Upon reaching the fantail Danner found Boats Patnaude already working with a crew to launch one of the 40 foot utility boats. Looking to starboard the Pyotr Velikiy was still two miles distant, but he could hear the moaning of the hull, the crackling flames and distant yells as the ship began breaking apart. Danner watched as it slowly turned over to port until the radar antennas touched the water and kept going. The forward part of the ship seemed to break off from the rest and sank rapidly. The after part of the ship clung to the surface for a while. There was a large piece of rounded steel sticking partly out of the bottom. It was glowing red hot.
The forward part of the remaining hulk rapidly dipped below the surface and began carrying the rest with it. The last thing the men on deck saw was two large screws and rudders glistening in the sunlight before they too descended under the surface in a wash of foam and bubbles. The sea surrounding the ship was littered with men trying to get aboard the life rafts which were now popping to the surface after coming loose from their cradles on the ship.
The Iowa got closer and a boat was launched. Danner told the men to try and help pick up as many survivors as they could. The water temperature was only about 40 degrees. People would freeze to death in minutes.
The boat shoved off and eased into the mass of bobbing sailors. The crewmen started helping them onboard. A second boat was launched and moved further into the floating mass. When one boat filled, it latched onto some already filled life rafts and towed them back to the Iowa.
Misha Slovatin regained consciousness to see the side of a ship just beside the raft. A set of hands grabbed him and he felt himself being hoisted out of the raft and onto a big ship. Something was funny. The uniforms were different. One of the men spoke to him in English — something he learned in school. Then it dawned on him that this was an American ship. A smiling officer with a cross on his collar looked him over and told some sailors to get him below. He went down some steel stairs and found himself in a brightly lit space that was warm. He was given a towel to dry off with and he was ushered to a corner just to stay out of the way. In a few minutes, a man came by and gave him a mug of soup. After a few sips he began to shake as the cold let go of him and he began to warm up. A young man came over and looked at a bump on his head. After a moment the young man looked at him and said, “You’ll be okay. Just rest here for a while until we can find a place to let you lie down.”