The Helm acknowledged and Noss felt the vibration in the ship’s deck as the carrier’s four propellers accelerated. The ship’s rudders dug into the water, turning Theodore Roosevelt sharply to starboard. After assessing the torpedo’s approach angle, Beresford ordered, “Steady course one-zero-zero!”
Roosevelt steadied up on its new course and Noss watched as the torpedoes kept traveling on a straight path; they were still too far away and hadn’t detected the strike group’s ships with their built-in sonars. Unless new steer commands were sent to the torpedoes, the carrier strike group would easily evade all five torpedoes. Theodore Roosevelt’s four escorts were likewise turning to starboard, maintaining their formation around the aircraft carrier.
Through the Bridge windows, several bright flashes in the distance caught Noss’s attention. As he contemplated what they were, the ASW commander’s voice came across the Bridge speaker, confirming Noss’s fear. Three MH-60Rs had been shot down by submarine-launched anti-air missiles. His attention shifted to Theodore Roosevelt’s survival when the five incoming torpedoes veered sharply to the right. The enemy submarine crew had apparently detected the strike group’s evasive maneuver and steered the torpedoes onto a new intercept course.
Lieutenant Commander Beresford responded immediately, turning the carrier to a new course that would result in the torpedoes passing behind Roosevelt and her escorts. Noss shifted his Bridge speaker to the dedicated ASW channel just in time to learn that torpedo pings had been detected, with their frequency correlated to Futlyar torpedoes, the newest heavyweight torpedo in the Russian Navy’s arsenal. Noss’s concern increased when the ASW commander reported that two of the torpedoes had begun homing.
Roosevelt and its escorts began another round of evasive maneuvers, but the torpedoes altered course toward the strike group again, and a moment later on the starboard side of the carrier, a plume of water jetted two hundred feet into the air, whipsawing the destroyer USS Paul Hamilton like a rubber toy. Seconds later, another explosion engulfed the cruiser USS Chosin, seawater shooting upward, then falling like rain onto the stricken ship. Both ships lost propulsion and slowed, and as the mist cleared, it was obvious that the torpedo explosions had broken the keel of each ship. It was a gut-wrenching sight, watching each ship split in half and take on water, the stern and bow tilting upward as Theodore Roosevelt and her two remaining surface ships sped away.
Noss monitored the three remaining torpedoes, which drew steadily aft, with no sign of receiving another steer command. He breathed a sigh of relief before recalling that the Futlyar torpedoes had a wake-homing capability. As one of the torpedoes crossed the carrier’s wake, Noss watched tensely through the rear Bridge windows. The torpedo continued on, then suddenly turned back toward the turbulent trail of water. It snaked back and forth before settling into Theodore Roosevelt’s wake. It steadily closed on the carrier, and the ASW commander soon reported that the torpedo was homing.
Roosevelt was already at maximum speed and evasive maneuvers were far more complicated when dealing with a wake-following torpedo. As Noss considered his options, the bright trail through the water faded, and the ASW commander reported that the torpedo had shut down. It had been fired from a very long range and had finally run out of fuel. A visual check confirmed the other two torpedoes chasing the strike group had also shut down.
As the remaining strike group ships sped eastward, Noss evaluated the current scenario. They had lost two surface ships and three of their MH-60R anti-submarine warfare helicopters, and the remaining MH-60Rs aloft were being withdrawn until the tactical situation was better understood — why had the helicopters’ missile defense systems failed?
The inability to employ the strike group’s MH-60Rs was a significant concern. That there was an enemy submarine in the area was obvious, but how to sink it was the critical issue. It was inside the minimum range of the strike group’s ASROC rocket-launched torpedoes, and the MH-60Rs, at the moment, couldn’t approach close enough to drop their lightweight torpedoes within attack range. That left Theodore Roosevelt’s escort submarines — Asheville and Michigan — to deal with the assailant.
49
USS ASHEVILLE
“No close contacts!”
Commander Gary Watson stopped circling on the periscope, his gaze settling on the remnants of two U.S. Navy warships, each sheared in half, their bows and sterns pointing skyward as they slipped beneath the water’s surface. Watson and his crew listened to the ships’ death throes as the severed sections sank deeper — the groans and sudden bangs as sealed compartments imploded from the increasing ocean pressure.
Swiveling toward the surviving surface ships, Watson shifted the periscope to high power and pressed the doubler, zooming in on the sterns of Theodore Roosevelt and the two remaining surface escorts as they sped away.
Moments earlier, while searching the water ahead of the carrier strike group, Asheville’s sonar technicians had detected a salvo of torpedoes headed toward the surface warships, followed by the strike group’s evasive maneuvers. Watson had ordered his crew to Battle Stations, then waited in frustration, unable to assist.
Anti-submarine warfare was a complicated process when coordinating surface, air, and submarine assets. To prevent blue-on-blue engagements — air or surface ships accidentally sinking one of their own submarines — surface ships and ASW helicopters were not allowed to attack contacts in areas assigned to U.S. submarines. Conversely, American submarines could not travel into an unauthorized area to assist for fear of being attacked, since the surface and air assets were weapons-free, allowed to attack any submerged contact detected in their area.
The submarine that had fired the torpedo salvo was operating in water owned by the MH-60Rs, and although Asheville’s sonar technicians had detected the torpedoes speeding toward the strike group, the location of the firing submarine remained unknown. Asheville needed to approach closer in order to detect and attack the enemy submarine, but couldn’t, at least not until it received new orders, which is why Watson had brought Asheville to periscope depth to download the latest radio messages. He finally heard the announcement he was waiting for.
“Conn, Radio. Download complete.”
Watson acknowledged the report, then asked, “Have we received a new OPORD?”
“Conn, Radio. Yes, along with a corresponding change in waterspace. We’re printing the messages now.”
While Watson waited for the messages, he ordered Asheville down from periscope depth, to a quieter realm away from the noisy surface.
“Dive, make your depth one-five-zero feet. Helm, ahead two-thirds.”
Watson lowered the periscope as Asheville tilted downward, and a radioman soon arrived in the Control Room with a message clipboard, which he handed to the submarine’s Captain.
Asheville’s new operational order was on top, followed by the associated waterspace assignment. The MH-60Rs had been removed from the equation, perhaps because they couldn’t adequately search the water at a pace that kept up with the strike group traveling at ahead flank. Instead, the waterspace had been divided between Asheville and Michigan. The torpedo salvo had been fired from within Asheville’s new operating area, which meant that Watson and his crew now had sufficient leeway to track down and sink the offending submarine.