“This cannot be correct,” he said. “We have been directed to fire upon the American strike group, targeting their aircraft carrier. Surely there has been a mistake. An errant message from a training scenario, perhaps.”
Pavlov’s Watch Officer studied the message as the First Officer spoke, searching for formatting irregularities. But the message was properly formatted, with the required weapon release authorization. Dolinski looked up.
“We should request verification. We aren’t at war with the United States, but this might start one. We must be certain this directive is properly authorized.”
Pavlov answered, “It’s authentic. And expected. I met with Fleet Admiral Lipovsky before our deployment. He informed me that we might receive this message.”
“Why would we be directed to fire upon the Americans?” his First Officer asked.
“He did not elaborate,” Pavlov answered. After a slight pause, he said, “Do you have any additional questions or reservations?”
When neither man replied, Pavlov ordered his crew to full readiness.
“Man Combat Stations. Proceed to periscope depth.”
Three levels below the Flight Deck, in the aircraft carrier’s Combat Direction Center, Captain Dolores Gonzalez settled into her watch routine as the CDC Operations Officer. She examined the Video Wall, a collection of two eight-by-ten-foot displays mounted beside each other, with a half-dozen smaller monitors on each side. After failing to note anything unusual, she shifted her thoughts to the combat air patrol to the west. They were keeping eight Super Hornets airborne at all times, along with an E-2C Hawkeye at twenty-five thousand feet, its radar searching the skies for hostile aircraft and missiles. Two of the F/A-18 fighters were approaching bingo fuel and would return to the carrier shortly. Her eyes shifted to the Flight Deck display; two more Super Hornets were moving toward the bow catapults and would be on their way out to relieve the returning fighters in a few minutes.
That was the daily routine, with days turning into weeks, then months. Across the Combat Direction Center from Gonzalez, the strike controllers were idle, as was the Tactical Action Officer who supervised them, with no inbound targets to engage and no outbound strike sorties.
The bow catapults fired, launching the Super Hornets, and it wouldn’t be long before the two fighters approaching bingo fuel returned. Gonzalez settled in for what would be a long but hopefully boring night on watch.
Vilyuchinsk tilted upward, rising toward periscope depth. The submarine’s Watch Officer kept his face pressed to the attack periscope, the aft of the submarine’s two scopes. Despite the crowded Central Command Post, now at full manning, it was quiet while the submarine rose from the deep.
Dolinski announced, “Periscope clear,” and started turning the scope swiftly, completing several sweeps in search of nearby contacts. Vilyuchinsk settled out at periscope depth and Dolinski declared, “No close contacts!”
Conversation resumed now that there was no threat of collision or detection by surface contacts, and Dolinski completed a more detailed scan of the ocean and sky, searching for distant ships or aircraft. “Hold no contacts.”
Pavlov ordered, “Raise primary communication antenna.”
One of Vilyuchinsk’s antennas, able to communicate with satellites, slid upward. Although Pavlov knew the American carrier strike group was to the west, he needed a detailed tactical picture to ensure he was targeting the correct ship. Vilyuchinsk was beyond visual range and couldn’t use its radar either, as that would give away the submarine’s presence. Instead, Pavlov would rely on the tactical summary from the broadcast, containing all warships and merchants at sea and updated every five minutes.
The Communication Party leader’s voice came across the speakers. “Command Post, Communications. In sync with the broadcast.”
A moment later, the two fire control displays updated with the current tactical picture, and Pavlov and his First Officer, along with Vilyuchinsk’s Missile Officer, gathered behind the men at their consoles. As Pavlov studied the display, he realized the tactical situation couldn’t have been better. The American carrier strike group was arranged with every surface ship escort except one positioned between the aircraft carrier and China, leaving only one destroyer on the back side between Vilyuchinsk and its target. It was a loose formation, which meant there would be little chance their missiles would lock on to the incorrect target. The only question was — how many of Vilyuchinsk’s missiles would make it past the destroyer and the aircraft carrier’s defense systems.
Pavlov announced, “Set contact eight-five-one as the target of interest. Prepare to fire, full missile salvo.”
The Missile Officer acknowledged and prepared to launch all twenty-four of Vilyuchinsk’s P-700 Granit surface attack missiles, each one armed with a warhead weighing almost one ton.
“All missiles are energized,” reported a watchstander seated at one of the fire control consoles. A moment later, he said, “All missiles have accepted target coordinates.”
Captain Lieutenant Dolinski initiated the next step. “Open all missile hatches.”
The hatches lining the submarine’s port and starboard sides retracted.
“All missile hatches are open,” the Missile Officer reported. “Ready to fire, full missile salvo.”
Pavlov surveyed the tactical situation and the readiness of his submarine one final time, then gave the order.
“Fire.”
Inside Roosevelt’s Combat Direction Center, a wave of yellow symbols appeared on Captain Gonzalez’s display. Surprisingly, they were to the east of the carrier strike group instead of the west. A few seconds later, each yellow icon switched to a red symbol with a sharp point, representing hostile surface-to-surface missiles. Gonzalez picked up the handset and punched the Bridge button on the communications panel.
“Bridge, CDC. Have twenty-four inbound bogies from the east, classified surface attack missiles. Request permission to set General Quarters.”
“Set General Quarters.”
Gonzalez gave the order, and the gong-gong-gong of the ship’s General Alarm reverberated in CDC, followed by the announcement, General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands man your Battle Stations. Move up and forward on the starboard side, down and aft on port.
As the announcement faded, Gonzalez focused on shooting down the incoming missiles. Roosevelt’s defense would fall primarily on the shoulders of USS Stockdale, an Arleigh Burke class guided missile destroyer, outfitted with the Aegis Warfare System and SM-2 Standard missiles. However, air defense of the carrier strike group rested with the Air Warfare Commander, stationed aboard the Ticonderoga class cruiser, USS Port Royal. His voice came across the speakers in CDC.
“All units, this is Alpha Whiskey. Shift Aegis Warfare Systems to auto. You are Weapons Free.”
Gonzalez watched as the computer aboard USS Stockdale began “hooking” contacts, assigning them to missiles in the ship’s vertical launchers. A few seconds later, missiles streaked skyward from the destroyer. On her display, a stream of blue icons headed out toward the red ones. The incoming missiles had been fired at close range; there would be insufficient time to launch a second round if Stockdale’s SM-2 missiles didn’t destroy the inbound bogies. Gonzalez watched the display as first one, then another SM-2 intercepted their targets.