Inonu touched the shipwide intercom button. “All hands, stand by for priority red alert.”
“Combat, red priority, red priority, Diamond sends, F-16 interceptor aircraft engaged by Sukhoi-27 fighters. Count unknown.”
Kemal help us, Inonu thought, those fighters must’ve been flying in close formation with the bombers, screening themselves from radar to disguise their numbers. “All hands, this is the captain, Russian bombers had fighter escorts that just engaged our F-16 fighters. Everyone look sharp.”
“Sir, copying mayday calls from two F-16 fighters, range forty miles.”
“Range to the bombers?”
“Getting telemetry, sir.”
Not fast enough, he thought. “Radar, go active, all stations, prepare to engage hostile aircraft.”
“Sir, Diamond confirms three F-16 fighters shot down at forty-two-miles range.”
“Dammit, I want range to the bombers, “ Inonu shouted.
“Sir, radar contact aircraft, range twenty-eight miles, speed six-two-five, altitude five hundred feet.”
“Copy that. All stations, batteries released, clear to engage, repeat, clear to engage. Begin active jamming on all frequencies.”
But that was exactly what the Russian bombers had been waiting for: seconds after the radars on Fatih were reactivated, they heard, “Sir, missiles inbound, many missiles, ballistic flight path.”
“All stations, go passive!” Inonu shouted. “Bearing to incoming missiles?”
“Bearing three-five-zero.”
“Helm, come to course zero-four-five, best maneuvering speed.” That heading would allow all of Fatih’s weapons to be brought to bear on the missiles — they had a better chance of destroying the missiles than dodging them. “Chaff rockets, EW, full salvo. Deploy emitter balloons. All stations, check full passive.” Another last-ditch decoy device they used, primarily against antiradar missiles, was tiny radar transmitters tied to large helium balloons — they made tempting targets for not-too-smart missiles.
“Balloons away, sir.”
“Very well. Bearing to miss—”
But Inonu did not have a chance to finish that last request. He saw the launch indications for the Sea Sparrow missiles, then saw the firing command and heard the steady pounding of the 127-millimeter gun, and then heard the buzzsaw-like scream of the Sea Zenith guns, all in rapid succession — and then the sickening crunch of metal and the sudden vertigo as the normally stable deck heeled sharply over to starboard.
“Ah, poulako,” Inonu swore. “Damage control, report!” But Inonu didn’t need the full report to see that the Sea Sparrow and aft Sea Zenith gun mount were out or faulted — one of the Russian antiradar missiles must’ve hit aft of the number-two stack.
“Sea Sparrow launcher is out,” Inonu’s combat officer reported. “Aft Sea Zenith mount faulted … air section reports minor damage to helo deck.” The report continued with minor fires on the helo deck while the 127-millimeter cannon and the forward Sea Zenith gun battery opened fire again.
“Where are those bombers?”
He was answered by an immense explosion on the portside forecastle, just a few compartments forward from CIC, followed by another smaller explosion abovedecks. Console lights went blank and emergency lights snapped on. “Damage control, report,” Inonu yelled into his intercom. No response. He switched to the backup battery-powered intercom — still no response.
The crewmen sitting behind blank consoles were turned toward their captain, waiting for their orders. None had risen out of their seats, although they clearly heard the sounds of rushing water and knew something bad had happened. Inonu had no choice — deaf and blind down here in CIC, it was no place for his crew.
“One-twenty-seven crew and IR, stay at your posts,” Inonu shouted. The 127-millimeter cannon and the passive infrared/laser tracking system were still functioning, and they might get a shot at the Russian bombers still. “All other crewmen, damage-control procedures.”
Quickly but orderly, all but four technicians and the section directors rushed for the hatch. Each man departing CIC had a damage-control position topside, and they would stay there until relieved or ordered back to CIC. The CIC section chiefs would try to get the gear working again.
As much as he hated to abandon the post, Inonu’s responsibility was now with the ship. Lieutenant Ecevit knew that, and he was standing beside the CIC officer’s seat, waiting to take over. Inonu reluctantly rose. “Lieutenant, take over here,” the captain said. “Thanks for your work, Mesut. You too, chief. If you pick those bastards up on the IR sensor, blast them to hell for me.” The captain clasped his young officer’s shoulder and headed topside.
When Inonu made it up on the portside catwalk to take the outside run to the bridge, the sight that greeted him made him freeze in absolute shock. Fatih had come through the antiradar-missile attack relatively unscathed — the patrol boat Poyraz and the oiler Akar had both been hit, and hit hard. The patrol boat looked like it had its fires under control, although occasionally a lick of flame would shoot skyward as a weapon magazine was blown open or another high-pressure line ruptured. Akar’s aft crew section, where the radars were located, was burning fiercely in two places. The fires had obviously not reached the fuel storage tanks yet, but there was no sign that the fires were under control either. No searchlights or deck lights were illuminated, and none of the lifeboats or motor launches were unstowed or on deck level — that meant that damage-control procedures were being hampered or were nonexistent.
Inonu jumped as the 127-millimeter cannon boomed once, twice, three times — and then Inonu heard them. They sounded like an approaching freight train, like an avalanche, like what it might sound like seconds before being hit by a speeding car. The Russian bombers careened overhead, slicing crudely through the air, rupturing the skies with their huge engines. Inonu knew what would happen next — he had seen American and Italian bombers do attacks on Turkish ships before, but they had only been simulated then — and he covered his ears tightly.…
The supersonic boooms, three of them, rolled over the Fatih seconds later, far louder than his 127-millimeter gun, louder than any gun Inonu had ever heard. The shock wave was so solid against the chill night air that he thought he could feel it, maybe sidestep it or cruise around it. He heard the shock wave retreat across the sea like a giant knife slicing through paper at a thousand miles per hour. Kemal be blessed, he hoped to turn one thousand years of age before he heard that sound.…
Inonu had reached the final ladder that led to the bridge when he realized that the Russian bombers had deliberately flown overhead, but had not dropped any bombs or launched any more missiles. Was the antiradar-missile attack going to be all…? No, he realized, there had to be more. “Mine countermeasures!” he shouted as he raced up the ladder to the bridge. It was too loud to be heard, but maybe a lookout would hear him. “Release torpedo decoys, damn you! Lookouts to the forward rail! Watch for mines.”
But it was too late.
After launching several AS-12 antiradar missiles from long range, the Tupolev-22M bombers had sown strings of shallow E45-75 torpedoes in the path of the frigate and the patrol boats. Activated by the ship’s engine sounds or by detecting the ship’s magnetic influence, the torpedoes activated their electric motors and acoustic sensors, maneuvered themselves around, then launched themselves at their targets at high speed. Before anyone could react, three torpedoes had hit the frigate Fatih and two had hit the stricken patrol boat Poyraz. The weapons were small — the torpedoes’ size was spent in speed and maneuverability, not explosive power — but their effects were devastating enough. Fatih was crippled and listing badly in less than fifteen minutes; the patrol boat Poyraz had capsized, with twelve men trapped below-decks, in less than half that time.