“Launch RBOC,” he ordered. Seconds later, he heard the boom of the chaff canisters being launched. The Super RBOC — Rapid Bloom Onboard Chaff — threw up a cloud of fine aluminum foil intended to decoy and confuse the radar homing unit of the anti-ship missiles.
Lei wasn’t optimistic. The Moskit was a smart missile with a guidance unit that wasn’t fooled by decoys.
“Fire control, stand by the five inchers. Commence firing as soon as you have a radar solution. I want a wall of shrapnel out there, proximity fuses.”
“Standing by, Captain.”
Shooting supersonic missiles with five-inch guns was more an act of defiance than anything else. Like swatting flies with a sledgehammer. Lei would use every weapon he had. If these were the final minutes of his career, he wanted the record to show that Kai Yang went down shooting.
It occurred to him that none of his crew — not the officers on the bridge or in fire control or surface watch, nor any of the enlisted signalmen or gunners or loaders — were exhibiting signs of panic. They were going about their duties with poise. Their voices were calm. No matter how the battle turned out, Lei told himself, he would always savor this moment.
He wished he had been able to close with the Sovremenny before the missile fight began. At closer range — eight or ten miles — perhaps the Moskits would have more difficulty locking on. Even with the Sovremenny´s superior firepower, he was certain that his gunners could direct their fire with more accuracy than the PLA crew. It would be sweet to pound the Russian devil ship with a barrage of five inch shells—
“First missile, thirty seconds out,” called the watch officer.
“Do we have SMS acquisition?”
“Not yet, sir, still trying — there! There it is, the first missile, six miles. Sparrow away.”
As the fire control officer spoke, a blaze of light from the starboard side signaled the launch of the Sea Sparrow missile.
Then another flash. “Second Sparrow away.”
More flashes. A steady thunder erupted from the five inch gun turrets. In his peripheral vision Lei caught similar flashes from behind and off the starboard aft quarter. The supply ship and the tanker were opening up with their own guns. So were the two destroyer escorts.
A wall of fire was going up against the Moskits. It was everything they had.
“Forward battery reports the new Harpoons loaded and ready, Captain.”
Lei could barely hear him over the roar of the guns. He had three more Harpoons. Fire them or save them? If the incoming Moskits struck Kai Yang, it wouldn’t matter. The unfired Harpoons would be useless. But if he somehow evaded the first volley of Moskits, he would need them.
“Fire Harpoon One.”
“Aye, captain.”
This time the flash of light from the Harpoon launch was almost undetectable. The bow of the Kai Yang was already ablaze with the muzzle flashes of the five inch guns. The night sky looked like a pyrotechnics display, shells bursting in a mile-wide pattern.
Lei was peering intently toward the west. The horizon was a yellow pencil line, illuminated by the glare of the exploding shells.
Something, a reddish pinpoint of light, was emerging from the curtain of fire.
“First Sparrow is a miss!” called Fire Control.
The Moskit was already through the wall of five inch fire. Lei could see it now, sizzling over the ocean at only a hundred feet altitude.
Coming at them.
Through the steady thunder of the guns, he heard a new sound. A deep-throated, staccato hammering noise.
The Phalanx Gatling guns. They were on automated fire, locked on to the incoming Moskit. The combined moan of the two Phalanx turrets, spitting a hail of depleted-uranium penetrator shells, sent a high-frequency vibration up through the deck of the Kai Yang. Lei could feel it in the soles of his shoes.
The red pinpoint of light was zigzagging in a crazy mosquito-like path. No doubt about it, thought Lei. Definitely a Moskit. Its autopilot was programmed to deliver violent evasive maneuvers during its final flight path.
“Fifteen seconds to missile impact,” called out Fire Control.
Where will it hit? Without taking his eyes off the western horizon, Lei removed his battle helmet from its hook on the bulkhead and set it on his head. Instinctively, his hand checked the buckle on his life vest.
As he watched, the zigzagging Moskit steadied its course, aiming straight for Kai Yang.
“CIWS hits!” called out Fire Control. “The Phalanx is getting hits on the missile.”
Lei stared, fascinated, at the incoming Moskit. It was low, trailing fire like a comet.
Four hundred meters short, the missile exploded. Flaming chunks soared like meteors in a shower toward Kai Yang.
Fragments rained into the sea in front of the bow. Pieces skipped off the water and clanged into Kai Yang’s hull. Larger pieces arced through the sky, descending toward the frigate and her escorts.
Lei saw a cluster of flaming debris hurtling directly for the bridge. He ducked as a piece impacted the deck at the base of the superstructure. Another blazing chunk struck the gun turret on the starboard side. More shrapnel ricocheted off the deck, slicing through antennae and stowed equipment and ventilator shafts.
He raised his head and peered through the window. The forward deck was ablaze. The starboard five inch turret was a mess of smoking steel.
“Twenty seconds to second missile impact.”
The remaining five inch guns were still hammering. Another Sparrow leaped from its launcher and blazed off toward the wall of gunfire. The Phalanx cannons were moaning like demons from hell.
Another red pinpoint of light appeared, zigzagging through the shell bursts.
The pinpoint erupted in a brilliant flash. Like an exploding star, the pieces radiated out in a shower of burning fragments, plunging into the ocean a mile short of Kai Yang.
“A Sea Sparrow kill,” announced the fire control officer.
Before Lei could acknowledge, he heard the surface watch officer’s cold voice. “Our first Harpoon is gone. Looks like they killed it.”
Lei wasn’t surprised. The Sovremenny had defensive weaponry every bit as good as Kai Yang. The slow-flying Harpoon was not a difficult target. Nothing like a Moskit.
“Third Moskit, thirty seconds to impact.”
Okay, thought Lei, they’d been lucky. Two out three misses with a Moskit was as good as they could hope for. Here comes number three.
As he waited, he saw the damage control party in asbestos suits scurrying across the forward deck, extinguishing the blaze, checking for survivors. He wondered how many were killed in the gun turret. The ship had only taken fragments from the destroyed Moskit. What kind of hell would they experience with a direct hit?
You’ll know in fifteen seconds.
As he strained to pick up the telltale red point of light through the shellfire, he heard the watch officer call out, “Harpoon strike! We’ve got impact on the target ship.”
Lei wanted to know more. Which Harpoon, the second or the third? What was the Sovremenny doing? Was it slowing, turning, sinking? Launching more missiles?
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the red point of light zigzagging through the turbulent sky toward them.
Number three. By its frenetic close-in zigzagging, Lei could tell that the missile had not been touched by the Phalanx, nor by a Sea Sparrow. With every undulation it returned to its relentless inbound course to Kai Yang.