73
USS HARRY S. TRUMAN
Inside the aircraft carrier’s Combat Direction Center, the blue glow from the consoles illuminated Captain Brent Sites’s face as he studied the displays on the Video Wall. The left monitor was zoomed out to a bird’s-eye view of the Indian Ocean, displaying the Russian forces in the Gulf of Oman and American units in the Arabian Sea. Minutes earlier, blue inverted U’s had appeared beside the aircraft carriers as they launched their air wings, and the first cycle of eighty aircraft had sped northwest toward the Russian battle group.
As the first cycle approached the Russian combat air patrol, Sites listened to the calm, monotone reports from the strike controllers as the casualties mounted.
“Loss of alpha-two-one.”
“Loss of charlie-four-two.”
The opposing waves of aircraft finally met and the display became a jumbled mosaic of shifting red and blue icons, the concentration of both colors growing gradually thinner.
The blue icons broke through the red barrier and continued toward the Russian surface combatants while the red icons regrouped, preparing for the assault of another blue wave; the second cycle of American aircraft was approaching. As the first wave closed on the Russian surface ships, surface-to-air missiles streaked from the combatants, with the missiles reaching the F/A-18s before their Harpoons were within range. The blood drained from Sites’s face as two dozen blue icons disappeared from his display.
The surviving F/A-18s launched their Harpoons, then turned away, racing back to their carriers. Thankfully, the Russian tactical fighters were about to engage the next incoming wave of F/A-18s, and given that the outbound aircraft had expended most, if not all, of their weapons, they focused on the approaching, fully armed aircraft.
The second wave of eighty FA-18s and EA-18G Growlers penetrated the Russian combat air patrol with noticeably fewer losses, but they still paid their dues when the Russian surface combatants engaged. The longer-range Russian missiles inflicted heavy casualties, but several dozen Harpoons streaked toward the Russian battle group.
Captain Sites brought up satellite reconnaissance on the right screen of the Video Wall, displaying an infrared picture of the nighttime scene. Bright flares erupted as the second wave of Harpoons hit their mark, and when the flashes faded, Sites counted thirteen Russian combatants on fire. He couldn’t tell if they were out of commission, but they had at least been damaged, hopefully impairing their ability to defend themselves against the next wave of aircraft. The American battle plan was pretty much a wash-rinse-repeat process, with each cycle of aircraft attacking the Russian surface ships, returning to their carriers to refuel and rearm, then attacking again.
As Sites studied the satellite image, the picture deteriorated into a haze of gray-and-black static. Sites selected another satellite feed and got the same result. The Russians were jamming the American reconnaissance satellites.
The first wave of fighters returned to their carriers and Captain Sites tallied the losses: thirty-three of the eighty aircraft had been shot down. The losses were heavy, but they could trade a few aircraft for each surface combatant sunk. Plus, the American losses would decrease with each successive attack, since the Russian combat air patrol, comprising mostly land-based fighters, now had nowhere to rearm due to the destruction of all nearby Iranian air bases. Kuznetsov was the only facility in the area that could refuel and rearm aircraft, which made her a priority for destruction.
Although thirteen Russian surface combatants had been hit, Kuznetsov and Pyotr Velikiy remained untouched. It was only a matter of time, however, before all of the Russian surface combatants were reduced to burning hulks.
Assuming, of course, the Russian submarines were kept at arm’s length. Sites studied the display, searching for the forty-eight Russian attack and guided missile submarines. There were no red U-shaped icons, representing hostile submarines, on the display.
So far, so good.
74
USS HARTFORD
Commander Dave Thames, standing on the Conn between the two lowered periscopes, surveyed his men in the Control Room. They were at Battle Stations and every console was manned, with supervisors standing behind them. Free to roam the Control Room was Thames’s Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Joe White, in charge of the Fire Control Tracking Party. The waterspace around Hartford had been quiet thus far, with Sonar reporting no submerged contacts.
USS Hartford, a Los Angeles class submarine, was in the middle of its ten-mile-wide by twenty-mile-long operating area, patrolling slowly side to side, giving Hartford’s towed array a clear view of the northern end of its operating area. With only twenty submarines to protect the four-carrier task force and ample ocean for the Russian submarines to do an end-around, the U.S. fast attacks were arranged in a single line of defense wrapping around both flanks of the task force formation, with Hartford assigned to one of the northern sectors. The battle had started an hour ago, and as Thames wondered how long it would take the Russian submarines to begin their assault, his thoughts were interrupted by a report from Sonar.
“Conn, Sonar. Hold a new contact on the towed array, designated Sierra five-seven, ambiguous bearings three-five-five and two-seven-five, classified submerged. Analyzing.”
Hartford’s towed array detected contacts at longer ranges than the submarine’s other acoustic sensors. However, the array couldn’t determine which side the sound arrived from, resulting in two potential bearings to the contact. With the American task force to the south and other U.S. submarines prohibited from entering Hartford’s waterspace, it was obvious which side of the array the submerged contact was on and that it was hostile.
The Sonar Supervisor’s next report confirmed Thames’s assessment. “Conn, Sonar. Sierra five-seven is classified Akula II.”
“Attention in Control,” Thames announced. “Designate Sierra five-seven as Master one. Track Master one.”
Thames turned his attention to the four men seated at the submarine’s combat control consoles. Three men were dedicated to determining the contact’s solution — its course, speed, and range — and a fourth man sat at the Weapon Control Console, which would send the desired search presets to the MK 48 Mod 7 torpedoes in the submarine’s four torpedo tubes. The weapons were powered up and in communication with combat control, and each torpedo tube was flooded with its muzzle door open.
After maintaining an eastern course for several minutes, watching the contact’s bearing drift aft, Thames reversed course.
“Helm, right full rudder, steady course two-seven-zero.”
Hartford steadied on its new course and as Thames evaluated Master one’s new bearing drift, Sonar reported another contact.
“Conn, Sonar. Gained a new submerged contact on the towed array, designated Sierra five-eight, ambiguous bearings zero-two-zero and one-six-zero. Analyzing.”
A second Russian submarine had entered the top right corner of Hartford’s operating area. As Thames turned his attention to the new contact, Sonar followed up. “Conn, Sonar. Gained a new submerged contact on the towed array, designated Sierra five-nine, ambiguous bearings three-two-zero and two-two-zero. Analyzing.”
It looked as though the Russians were attempting to penetrate the American submarine screen at even intervals, resulting in three inbound Russian submarines in Hartford’s operating area.