Another four missiles continued further into Hampton Roads before circling back to strike any other carriers in port. With the Nimitz and the Eisenhower at the same pier, they looked like just one ship on the missile radar, not so for USS Iwo Jima, an LHD nearly the size of a carrier, tied up the next pier over. All four missiles struck the ship near the waterline sending up huge gouts of flame and debris. Just back from a deployment, the Iwo Jima was fully loaded. When one of the missiles hit a magazine, the eruption lit the night sky for several miles. Almost immediately, the Iwo Jima began to list to starboard. Within a minute, the ship had turned over on its side. The flames inside the ship continued to consume her. It would take two days for the fires to be extinguished.
Aboard the Eisenhower, crewmen shaken from their racks began rushing to their stations to try and save their ship and shipmates. Flames engulfed the hanger deck from below and teams lit off the fire systems to dispense foam over the flames. But there was only the duty section aboard. The base firefighters arrived quickly and rushed aboard. Compartment by compartment, they made their way, dousing flames and pulling out the bodies of the sailors killed while asleep in their racks. In a few minutes the call went out to the city for more help. In all, fifteen fire stations emptied to kill the fires aboard the great ship. The engineers rushed deep inside to check the engineering plant to make sure the ship’s two nuclear reactors had not been breached. Fortunately, the compartmentalization built into the ship had done its job. Not only were the reactors still safe, the underwater hull had not been damaged. USS Dwight D. Eisenhower would survive.
There was only one carrier docked at Naval Air Station North Island. USS Stennis was in to repair a bearing in the number one engine room. Just a few hours before, USS Ronald Reagan had departed to be at sea in case something happened. Eight missiles streaked past Point Loma and turned toward the Stennis. Two missiles mistakenly struck hangers and warehouses near the ship. One came straight down the bow, skipping across the flight deck before exploding near the fantail. Another missile struck the island just below the bridge. A fifth missile glanced off the angled deck and skipped out into the harbor before exploding 500 yards away. Three other missiles missed the ship altogether, aiming instead at the museum, USS Midway berthed across San Diego bay. The first missile struck dead on the bow, destroying the ship’s secondary conning station, while the other two struck a taller warehouse just across the street.
The missiles tracked in from the sea into Los Angeles harbor. They had been programmed to strike the largest ship on the pier — USS Iowa. Five had been fired. Two struck the loading and unloading cranes on the adjacent piers. Three struck the huge Disney cruise ship Dream which had entered port just an hour before and docked just behind the Iowa. There had been over 5,000 people aboard. All missiles struck her starboard side, causing her to list and sink at her moorings. Of the 5,000 aboard, only around 1,000 survived.
Captain Frank Jacobs was not happy. An attack submarine, like the Texas, needed to roam freely to search for targets, not shepherd a bird farm. Yet, here they were, tied to USS John F. Kennedy, one of the newest carriers, like some wet nurse. His people had identified over twenty possible targets but no one would pull a trigger unless fired upon. So his highly trained crew would sit, listen, and wait.
Holiday routine would be observed today because of Thanksgiving. Already the smell of turkey was circulating through the boat. At least his supply officer had been able to get enough frozen turkeys to feed the crew. He looked in the mirror in his cabin and scratched his chin. “Another day…” he sighed to himself. He had lathered up when the call came over the speakers, “Captain to the control room.”
“What now,” he said to himself. Exiting his cabin, he made his way forward and stepped into the crowded control room. “Okay, OOD, what’s up?”
“Captain, sonar has some strange noises from contact twelve. She bears 083 degrees about 45,000 yards. They say they are hearing some metal on metal sounds,” the OOD said.
Jacobs hit the bitch box. “Sonar, what do you have?” he grumbled.
“Captain, we hear some metal on metal sounds and now I am hearing hull popping noises,” said the sonar watch.
“Where’s the carrier?” Jacobs asked.
“The carrier is 195 degrees, five thousand yards. That puts her on our port quarter, sir,” the OOD reported.
“How long have we been tracking this guy?” Jacobs asked.
“For the past three days, captain.”
Jacobs’ brow furled. He didn’t like it. “OOD, sound general quarters. Ready all tubes,” he ordered.
A muted klaxon sounded through the ship and the crew sprang to their general quarters stations. Within three minutes, all stations were manned and ready.
Jacobs had moved to sonar. “Okay, give me your best shot. What is she?” he asked.
“Captain, we already know she is a Russian. The machinery noises make her a nuke plant and definitely not one of ours. The signature is not in our computers, but is very similar to an Oscar. We have the signatures of all of them, but this one is a little different. I might guess that it may be the Tomsk. Remember, she had that accident about a year ago and she went in for repairs. There’s a good chance it changed her signature. That would explain it,” the chief said as he listened on a separate set of headphones.
“She’s a missile boat, isn’t she?” asked Jacobs.
“Yes sir. Cruise missiles,” said the chief. He suddenly jerked up and looked at the operator. “Fuck!” he exclaimed. “Captain, he’s launching missiles!”
“Shit!” Jacobs called out as he left the room. “OOD, make for contact 12. Make your depth 800 feet, speed 20. I’m going to blast his ass all over the ocean,” Jacobs shouted.
“Missiles in the air, bearing 080!” came the cry from the combat information center. Immediately the Kennedy went to general quarters and turned away. Outboard, USS Anzio, an older AEGIS cruiser, sprang to life. The door on her launcher opened and an SM-2 erupted out of the launcher toward the incoming missiles. Several more followed.
“How many are incoming?” shouted the Kennedy’s captain.
“Four inbound. There are no ships on the bearing. It must have been a submarine,” the watch officer exclaimed.
“Is the missile launcher ready?” the captain asked.
“Ready, captain. Almost in range.”
The first SM-2 struck its target along with the second. The third SM-2 failed to go off and hit the water while the fourth struck the fourth missile in the line. The third missile adjusted its course toward the carrier and flew on just 100 feet above the water. It roared over the cruiser toward the bigger target beyond.
The Kennedy launched a Sea Sparrow. The smaller missile picked up the enemy missile and struck it just two miles from the carrier, spinning it into the sea where it exploded with a bang.
Aboard the Kennedy, the captain let out a whistle. “Too close. How far away was the launch?” he asked.
“About 25 miles, Captain.”
“Get some ASW assets in the air. Let’s hunt that son of a bitch down,” he said.
“The carrier is going away at high speed,” reported the ship’s sonar officer.
“Damn! We heard some explosions. Are you sure she isn’t damaged?” the captain asked.
“Does not sound like it at all. Her engine noises have increased.”
“Ready another four missiles. Move us in closer. Do you hear any other ships?”