He kept his eyes firmly against the periscope as he took several deep breaths to calm himself. Once he recovered, he turned, faced the crew, and ordered, “Down periscope. Fire torpedoes one. two, and three.”
The Al Nasser shuddered as the compressed air blew the three torpedoes clear of the tubes. He waited twenty seconds and fired the fourth.
The fourth torpedo was aimed ten degrees to the left, off target. If the target turned to port to evade the main pattern of three torpedoes, it would turn into the fourth torpedo’s path. Seventy-five seconds to impact. The tiny sonar in the nose of the torpedoes would home on the screws of the arsenal ship. If the passive side of the torpedoes lost the sound signature of its target, the tiny sonar would commence an active search, pinging until it acquired a target. Maybe he should have taken out the Nassau. It was the command ship. He shrugged his shoulders. Too late to change his mind. The torpedoes were in the water. The ballet of death in the next seventy-five seconds between the weapons and the target would determine the accuracy of his firing solution. He ordered the Al Nasser into a sharp turn away from the Americans. The wires, providing the initial guidance and connecting the torpedoes to the submarine, broke. But it didn’t matter. The torpedoes were already activated and on their own sensors.
“I have rapid screw turns in the water!” screamed Calhoun into the microphone in front of him. “Torpedoes, we got motherfucking torpedoes in the water!” he yelled. Tears sprang to his eyes as adrenaline rushed through his body. He tried to jump up, but the seat belt jerked him back hard. Over the loudspeaker in Combat the captain heard the warning.
“Activate NIXIE!” shouted the captain at the ASWOC officer.
Streaming from the stern of the Hayler was a NIXIE transducer that, when activated, sent sounds into the water to fool a torpedo’s sensors and pull it away from the ship toward the transducer.
“Increase speed to flank three, left twenty-degree rudder,” ordered the captain, and he immediately felt the ship heeling to starboard, creating a gigantic knuckle of water in its wake to further distract the torpedo sensors. “Bring her back down to twelve knots!”
“Chief, it’s not us! It’s not us!” screamed Calhoun, his breath short and rapid, holding on to the desk shelf as the ship rolled. “I have three torpedoes to our port side with a right bearing drift, decreasing noise.”
“Do we have a bearing, range from source?” yelled the chief, licking his dry lips. Boyce reached up, jerked the spare set of headphones down, and plugged them into the SQR.
“Bearing two eight two. Estimate range at six thousand yards,” Calhoun replied, his voice shaking. “I’ve got the mother, Chief. I’ve got the mother!” Calhoun shook his head back and forth. “Yeah, I’ve got the mother,” he muttered as he twisted the knobs on the SQR system refining the direction. The blip on the waterfall now had three distinct brothers separating from it.
Boyce put his hand on Calhoun’s shoulders. “Stay calm,” he said. His legs felt weak, almost as if they were going to give way. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the warm electronics bay for a couple of seconds before straightening. His hand still rested on Calhoun’s shoulder.
Boyce blinked a couple of limes to clear his eyes, and then pushed the intercom button. “Captain, target bears two eight two. Estimate range six thousand yards.” He surprised himself at the calmness in his voice, considering the butterflies in his stomach. He looked for a nearby trash can in case he threw up. The hell with what they might say.
“ASWOC, I want a Sealance, now! Target bears two eight two, range six thousand yards!” yelled the captain.
The Navy Tactical Data System operator plugged in the symbol for hostile submarine on the range and bearing echoed by the captain. The system immediately transmitted the symbol throughout the battle group, including the arsenal ship.
“Torpedoes on course zero four six, correction zero four niner, been running for thirty seconds! Stand by mark. Five, four, three, two, one. Mark!”
The NTDS operator in putted the torpedoes into the system. Within seconds everyone in the battle group saw the target of the torpedoes as the arsenal ship, USS King.
‘“Time to impact?” the captain asked.
A yellow line shot out from the submarine on the holograph plot identifying the projected torpedo track. It ran directly to the stern of the arsenal ship.
“Forty-knot torpedo speed. Time — sixty-three seconds to target.”
The TAO grabbed the handset in front of him. He heard the familiar beep of the radio cryptographic system, synchronizing the security keys. “King, this is Hayler, be advised three torpedoes inbound toward you. Estimated time to impact fifty-eight seconds.”
“Roger, Hayler, we’re aware and taking evasive and decoy actions!”
“Good luck, King.”
Familiar clicks of acknowledgment echoed from the speakers.
The captain moved to the right of the holographic plot for a different view of the situation. In the three-by-six-foot hovering display the ships of the battle group, in their relative positions, sailed northeast with a slight wake trailing behind each friendly vessel. West of the battle group a holographic submarine traveled at a depth of fifty meters with its bow pointed at the USS King. The holograph operator touched several heat-sensitive buttons, and from the nose of the submarine two additional yellow lines appeared, showing the torpedoes and their projected paths.
“What’s the status of the SH-60?”
“Captain, airborne in thirty seconds, sir.”
A speaker above the holograph plot came to life. “Hayler, this is Yorktown. Our ASW helicopter airborne in twenty seconds your way. Say when ready to assume control.”
The ASWOC reported, “Sir, Sealance ready.”
“Captain, ASW; we have a fourth torpedo in the water bearing two zero eight on projected course of zero zero seven.”
On the holograph display a fourth torpedo appeared. This yellow line showed the torpedo passing harmlessly down the port side of the arsenal ship, unless the USS King turned into the torpedo’s path.
“Hayler, this is Spruance. Ten minutes to position. You have the hall. Request instructions.”
“Spruance, this is Hayler. Line-abreast attack formation. Request position yourself ten thousand yards to my starboard. I am in a twelve-knot turn toward contact bearing two eight two, estimated range six thousand yards.”
“Roger, Hayler. We’re on our way.”
The captain lifted the handset for Battle Group Common. “King, this is Hayler: be advised fourth torpedo inbound your direction. Do not turn to port. I repeat, do not turn to port. Ambush torpedo launched to port.”
“Roger, understand. We have NIXIE streamed and activated. Captain is steadying on course and intends to knuckle the water when torpedoes are twenty seconds away. One moment, Hayler.” A few seconds later the voice continued. “Captain asks you to send coordinates. We are armed and ready to fire, but need targeting data! We’ve got the weapons, you give us the targeting!”
“Roger,” the captain of the Hayler replied. Turning from the handset, he said, “ASWOC, have you got a firing solution yet?”
“Sir, we have a proximity solution. Recommend we fire Sealance at four thousand yards along torpedo origination bearing, followed immediately with two others bracketing the area.”