“Is Guam firing back?”
“Hard to tell from the information we’re getting, sir.”
“Understood. Have our SAG destroyers reported that they are ready?”
“Yes, sir, the last one—Farragut—just rogered up.”
“Very well. You are weapons free.”
Seconds later, surface-to-air missiles began shooting up from the vertical launch systems of the USS Michael Monsoor, the USS Farragut, and each of the other destroyers in their surface action group. The missiles traveled at nearly three times the speed of sound, zooming towards the Chinese fighter squadrons.
The first barrage of missiles destroyed eight of the aircraft. The Chinese fighters were performing evasive maneuvers in a panic, shooting flares and chaff in hopes that the SAMs would miss. But the American missiles were the latest-generation, with upgraded software to ensure that they did not bite off on countermeasures.
Some of the Chinese aircraft, seeing the destruction ahead, realized the futility of their task and began turning around to retreat. That was when the second barrage of American surface-to-air missiles hit. Each of the J-15s was destroyed.
38
Plug watched the tactical display on his screen. The F-18 that had been monitoring the merchant ships hadn’t checked in for the past fifteen minutes. He presumed that it had been shot down.
After general quarters had sounded, the commodore had entered the Zulu cell and sat down.
“AIROPS, what’s the status?” the commodore asked, referring to Plug by his job title.
“Sir, the F-18 that was flying a surveillance mission for us located the six Chinese merchant ships about one hundred miles to the west. FLIR imagery from the Ripper aircraft revealed multiple missile batteries being set up on the decks of the merchant ships. We informed strike group, and they launched the swing-loaded alert aircraft and set general quarters.”
The commodore stared up at the tactical display. “Tell the ships to report any unusual sonar contacts. If the Chinese are attacking Hawaii, they’ll have submarines here as well. Where’s SUBS?”
The chief said, “Sir, I’ll contact the destroyers.”
“Sir, SUBS is in the Sierra cell.” SUBS was the title of the submarine officer on the commodore’s staff. He advised him the commodore all subsurface and anti-submarine warfare matters. “He’s coordinating with COMSUBPAC and the Romeo squadron on board to start a local area search.”
The commodore nodded and rose. “I’m going to Sierra. Call me there immediately if anything changes, and update me when the alert F-18s reach the merchants.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Conn, Sonar, contact designated US aircraft carrier 78 bearing zero-nine-five for thirteen thousand meters and closing.”
Captain Ning watched as his men conducted their work. They were diligent and professional, quietly performing each task just like they had trained. Except these would be real torpedoes that they would fire. And this was a real American supercarrier they were hunting.
The captain saw hints of the immense pressure taking its toll on his men. The pitch of his conning officer’s voice upon replying to the sonar technician. The beads of sweat on the forehead of the navigator, and the way he didn’t make eye contact with the executive officer who stood over him. But the officers and crew were doing everything right.
Things would become far more difficult the closer they came to the carrier. Technically, they were already within torpedo range. If his weapon traveled at low speed, it could get as far as thirty thousand meters. But at that velocity, the targets would have plenty of notice, as well as a speed advantage which they could use to escape.
A good submarine commander planned his attack so as to surprise the enemy and give them little to no chance to evade the incoming weapon. Captain Ning had taken his submarine very close to American aircraft carriers before, in the South China Sea. He had been undetected then, and he fully expected the same result here. By the time the Americans knew his submarine was near, it would be too late.
The problem was the escorts.
While Captain Ning would love to remove his risk by attacking the escort ships first, that would also give away his element of surprise.
“How many ships in company with the carrier now?” The escorts had been multiplying over the past week, getting reinforcements from Pearl Harbor.
“Eight ships in screen around the carrier, Captain.”
“Status?”
“They’re all traveling west at an average speed of ten knots, with the carrier in the center of the formation.”
The captain nodded. His XO walked over to him, sensing that he wanted to discuss something. They spoke in low voices.
“We won’t be able to get shots off at all of them.”
The XO said, “I agree.”
“We’ll need to prioritize the aircraft carrier above all else. Including our escape.” Their eyes met.
The XO nodded. “Yes, Captain.”
“Let’s close them deep and quiet. We will—”
“Conn, Sonar, transients! Torpedo bearing one-seven-zero!”
The captain of the USS Hawaii, a Virginia-class submarine out of Pearl Harbor, stood in the conn, knowing that a Chinese Han-class submarine was only a few thousand yards away.
“Solution ready,” said the XO.
“Weapon ready,” said the weapons officer.
“Ship ready.”
The captain gave the order to fire, and the massive torpedo was ejected from the submarine.
“Own ship’s unit in the water, running normally.”
The officers and crew around him all waited as the Mark 48 torpedo hurtled through the ocean on its way to the Chinese submarine.
Captain Ning couldn’t believe his ears. High-pitched pings echoed throughout the submarine. He turned and said, “All ahead flank. Come left to course two-seven-zero.”
“All ahead flank,” came the repeated command.
“Left two-seven-zero.”
“Torpedo is homing, Captain!”
One of his officers yelled, “Who fired? Find us a target.”
Captain Ning gripped the rails as he made his way to the other side of the space, the submarine rolling hard to the right as it began evasive maneuvers. He leaned over one of his sailors as he looked at the display. “Launch countermeasures.”
But as the pinging of the torpedo increased in frequency, he knew it was too late.
The last thing that went through his mind was a feeling of helplessness as he realized how outmatched his submarine had been. His crew hadn’t even identified who had fired the torpedo.
The torpedo’s pump-jet propulsor took it to speeds over fifty knots as its seeker continued to ping, painting a picture of the target and surrounding ocean. Other onboard sensors on the Mark 48 detected the electrical and magnetic fields of the Chinese submarine. All this information was used to make the weapon more lethal.
The six-hundred-and-fifty-pound high-explosive warhead detonated a mere three feet from the Han-class submarine, ripping a hole in the bow and breaching the pressure hull. The vessel’s forward speed and flooding caused it to dive downward into the ocean depths. Many of the officers and crew were killed on impact. Others died in the flooding. And the last of them died when the submarine reached crush depth, imploding into itself.
Plug could hear SUBS’s announcement on the strike group’s communications network.