The XO lifted the bridge phone and relayed instructions to Combat concerning the warnings to the British and Spanish authorities ashore.
Simultaneously, on secure communications, Combat updated the British admiral and the Royal Navy battle group, forty-five nautical miles behind them and closing. The United States Navy in the twentieth century had never gone into conflict without being able to look over its shoulder and find the Royal Navy steaming proudly beside it. When fighting together, the two Navies had never been defeated. It gave Holman a warm feeling to know the twenty first century had started no different.
The USS Stennis turned starboard toward the Spanish coastline, leaving the destruction of USS John Rodgers behind. Six Sea King helicopters methodically searched the explosion area for signs of survivors — even a lone survivor. The ocean was carpeted with pieces of the Spruance-class destroyer, but the human body is a frail instrument. The crew had vaporized along with the second United States warship to be sunk in battle in a week.
“How long until the S-3s can launch?” Holman asked.
The master chief released the sound-powered phone but ton. “Sir, Flight Deck says as soon as we steady up, we can launch the two S-3s.
The Vikings are idling on the catapult, waiting for the signal to launch.”
“Captain,” the officer of deck relayed. “Admiral Leddermanthompson sends his respects and offers the services of the Royal Navy. He has detached the HMS Boxer, at flank speed, to join us, and has launched three ASW Sea King helicopters our way. He says they are yours and he requests you assume control at your convenience.”
Captain Holman stepped into the hatchway. “Give me the phone.” He took the phone connecting the bridge with Combat. “Combat, this is Holman. Tell Admiral Leddermanthompson I accept his offer of assistance. Have His Majesty’s Ship Boxer contact Ramage for instructions. Ensure Ramage has positive control over those Royal Navy bubbas before sending them forward.” He handed the phone back to the OOD.
Holman turned to his XO. “I knew the Royal Navy couldn’t stay out of the fight long; too near Trafalgar.”
The Battle of Trafalgar was the greatest sea battle in Royal Navy history. Off the coast of Morocco in the late 1790s Lord Nelson outnumbered, attacked, and defeated a combined French and Spanish fleet, ensuring British dominance of the seas for another hundred years. In the course of the battle Lord Nelson was shot and killed.
Holman moved to the far side of the bridge wing and stared at the fading area behind them where the Rodgers had disappeared into history.
Two minutes later, the turn of the carrier hid the site. No matter how much someone is dedicated to the Navy, they never expect to make the ultimate sacrifice. He had wondered about that in his early years in the Navy. It wasn’t until he hit his forties before he began to believe in his own mortality. Even now, when he was so sure they were heading to war, he doubted that he himself would suffer the ultimate sacrifice. But then, he thought, so did Warren Lee Spangle.
“Sir,” the master chief said, glaring fiercely in the same direction the captain stared. “Ramage says the submarine has submerged beneath the layer and they’ve lost him on sonar.
Last course was a direct path to the strait.” He pushed his button on the sound-powered circuit. “Wait one, Captain.”
Holman waited as the master chief acknowledged the speaker on the other end. The tall, black master chief looked up. “Captain, Ramage has ordered the Rodgers Mark III to launch its torpedo. The Hue C/fy’s SH-60 is launching one mile ahead of last reported course. Ramage’s SH-60 is laying a below-layer sonobuoy pattern between the attacking helicopters. Ramage further reports positive control of three British Sea King helicopters, in the area in five minutes. British helicopters are outfitted with one torpedo each. After the two U.S. SH-60s make their attack, the British will move forward and replace them.”
He had forgotten about the Rodgers SH-60 helicopter out there. There was a possibility that the helicopter did not know about its mother ship. He looked at the master chief, who like most master chiefs read minds also.
The master chief nodded. “Yes, sir. They know.”
“XO, tell Ramage that Rodgers’ helicopter will bingo to Stennis once this is over,” Holman replied.
“Yes, sir. Will do.” He picked up the phone and passed the information to Combat for further relay to USS Ramage. A minute passed as he traded conversation with Combat.
“Captain,” the XO said as he hung up the phone. “Ramage and Hue City request the status of Rodgers. They are seventeen miles ahead and saw the explosion. They have no radar return on the Rodgers, and NTDS shows her symbol DIW. They want to know the situation. What should we tell them, sir?” He paused for a moment as he weighed the pros and cons before reaching a decision. “Tell them Rodgers has suffered torpedo hits and we are assessing the damage.”
“Sir, the bastard sunk her. With all due respect, Captain, they should know that Rodgers is gone!” the XO said.
“No, XO. You’re wrong. The Rodgers isn’t gone. The Navy is full of USS John Rodgers,” replied Holman softly as he stared out to sea.
“We’ve had captains like Spangle and ships like Rodgers throughout our history, and we’ll have captains like him and crews like the Rodgers in the future, and when our enemies want to defeat us, they won’t be able to. For you can never defeat the courage of those like Captain Spangle and the USS John Rodgers who make our Navy what it is. XO, they need to know the courage of that ship, in that you are right. But for the time being, I want Hue City, Ramage, and those SH-60s’ attentions on that submarine.
I don’t want them grieving for Rodgers. I don’t want emotions overshadowing their duty. There will be time to wake the Rodgers memory when this is over. Right now, I want that submarine!” Holman slammed his palms down on the hard rail of the bridge wing and faced the two men. “And I want to know who in the hell was responsible, because I may not want the crew to be emotional, but by God, there’s no goddamn reason why I can’t be!”
“May I recommend then, Captain, we tell them Rodgers has been hit and we will fully brief them following battle stations.”
Holman nodded. “Okay, XO. Tell them that. It’s what I said anyway.”
The master chief interrupted. “Captain, the S-3s are ready for launch.”
“What course are we on?”
“We are steadying up on course zero niner zero, Captain.” So we, too, are heading into the Strait of Gibraltar.
“Tell them to launch when ready.”
Several seconds later the roar of engines, seeking full power, roared through the bridge, followed almost immediately with the blast as the cherries broke and the catapult shot the aircraft from zero to two hundred knots in three seconds. The S-3s shot off the end of the flight deck, dipped slightly beneath the bow before their two engines pulled the antisubmarine jets upward.
The Viking aircraft turned right, away from the Spanish mainland. The aircraft immediately changed channels and contacted USS Ramage’s ASW control.
The master chief looked down at the captain. “Ramage reports both torpedoes a miss. He is moving one of the Royal Navy helicopters eastward into the Strait to lay a sonobuoy pattern along with the two SH-60s from Hue City and Ramage. The other two Royal Navy helicopters are positioning themselves for attack. Ramage estimates that the submarine, if it continues east, will enter the strait in five minutes. The Rodgers helicopter is headed our way. Ramage has passed control to Stennis to direct a sanitation sonobuoy barrier ahead of the carrier. Ramage wants to ensure that we only have one submarine out there.”