Mack secured from battle stations and the rig for depth charge, and then settled in for the transit to Independence.
With Cheyenne running at twenty-five knots four hundred feet beneath the surface of the South China Sea, Mack had time to wonder about his decision to attack the Chinese frigate and submarine. Had he been too aggressive? The captain suddenly felt both guilt and vulnerability for attacking the task group. There had been other, more stealthy alternatives, and perhaps he should have taken them.
This was one of the dangers of post-action letdown. Too many people used that time to play the “what if?” game and to second-guess their own decisions. What if Cheyenne had been damaged? he thought to himself. After all, his main objective was to reach Independence safely, not attack enemy warships. Independence could easily have handled that task group herself.
In addition to the risk of the encounter, Mack knew that he had cost Cheyenne the element of surprise. She was known, now, and being hunted. Perhaps it would have been a better idea to silently drift alongside the Chinese task group, obtain the required intelligence, and then head for the carrier.
These questions troubled him as he prepared to proceed to periscope depth to get information concerning Independence.
“Conn, sonar,” the sonar supervisor reported, “the towed-array picked up a helicopter overhead. We can tell it’s a helo because of the high turbine rpm.”
Hearing this, Mack ordered an immediate excursion to 325 feet. He soon heard the ping of the helicopter’s active dipping sonar through Cheyenne’s hull, and the sound sent chills up his spine. He began to worry, once again, about the wisdom of his earlier decision to attack the Chinese task group.
“Conn, sonar, we just detected a submarine on the surface. It’s beginning to submerge!”
Mack remanned battle stations. The atmosphere in the sonar room grew very tense as everyone waited for the next contact evaluation. It wasn’t long in coming, and it wasn’t good news.
“Conn, sonar, we’ve got another contact,” reported the sonar supervisor. “This one sounds like a Romeo. It must have been waiting for us, playing dead in the water, because we didn’t hear it before the active sonar from that helo.”
Sonar designated the helo as sonar contact Sierra 179. Mack designated the Romeo as Master 21.
Antisubmarine helicopters were always a danger. They were hard for submarines to detect, and their dipping sonars and sonobuoys could provide enemy forces with valuable data on the location of Cheyenne. And that was exactly what this one seemed to be doing.
And if the helicopter was within its torpedo range, Mack realized, they could also drop a torpedo in the water. That would definitely ruin our day, he thought.
“Range to the Romeo, Master 21, is seventeen thousand yards, bearing 025,” the fire-control coordinator reported.
“Sonar, conn, what’s the classification on the one that just submerged?” Mack asked.
“Conn, sonar, it sounds like another Romeo. It sounds closer, bearing 027, sir. Designate Master 22?”
The BSY-1 operators quickly determined that two enemy submarines were five thousand yards from one another. Cheyenne, it turned out, was on a bearing directly between them, the reciprocal bearing 206 if they detected her.
At that moment, the helicopter’s dipping sonar was active again, and this time it was directly overhead.
Mack smiled. That helo pilot had just done them a favor. The two Chinese submarines may have already acquired Cheyenne—which meant that the latest “ping” didn’t help them at all. But the sound energy reflecting off their hulls into Cheyenne’s waiting sonars and the BSY-1 computers gave her accurate firing solutions for both Romeo class submarines.
“Make tubes one and two ready in all respects,” Mack ordered. “Open the outer doors. Firing point procedures, tube one, Master 21, and tube two, Master 22.” Mack wanted the first torpedo going after the closer submarine and the second torpedo aimed at the other.
His orders were confirmed quickly and efficiently.
“Match sonar bearings and shoot, tube one, Master 21 and tube two, Master 22,” he ordered.
“Match bearings and shoot, tube one, Master 21, and tube two, Master 22, aye, Captain.”
Both torpedoes quickly acquired.
Mack acknowledged the reports. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here before we get attacked by that helo. Cut the wires, shut the outer doors, and reload tubes one and two. Ahead flank, right full rudder, make your depth 800 feet, steady on course 180.” Mack was calm as the directed commands were repeated by the persons intended for them. Cheyenne had become a fine-tuned fighting machine. Each man knew what was expected of him.
Above them, high in the sky, a lone F-14 flying from the aircraft carrier Independence saw the target blip on its radar long before the Chinese helicopter had any idea what was about to happen. With permission of the flag watch officer aboard Independence, the 000–045 sector F-14 pilot was allowed to advance his sector since he had radar contact on the Chinese helo that was harassing Cheyenne. After he cut in his afterburners and approached the target at supersonic speed, permission to fire was passed from the TAO (tactical action officer). With a thumb push on the pickle, the pilot reported “Phoenix 1 away.”
Behind him, in the backseat, his RIO (radar intercept officer), who had done all the targeting work, said, “Phoenix is locked on. That submarine captain sure owes us one.”
Aboard Cheyenne, the sonar supervisor couldn’t explain his latest detections to Mack. “Conn, sonar,” he said, “the helicopter, the one above our position… I think she just crashed! Something fell in the water and the TB-23 is not picking up any helo turbine noise anymore.”
“I guess we just broke Murphy’s law,” Mack replied, his voice as calm and efficient as ever.
Mack had decided not to designate the helo with a Master number. He would leave that to the aviators. However, the helo would find itself in the history of submarine warfare, in Mack’s patrol report, by virtue of Cheyenne’s “Sierra” designation assigned to the helo as one of Cheyenne’s many sonar contacts.
The remainder of their transit into the southern end of the South China Sea proved, to the delight of both the captain and the crew, to be entirely uneventful. Mack had not realized how enjoyable an uneventful stretch of time could be when the alternative was someone shooting at his submarine.
When they met up with Independence northwest of Natuna Island, Mack and his crew learned that both Mk 48s had found their marks and the Chinese were now down another two submarines. Mack had also discovered the true story behind the “crash” of their Chinese helo.
Mack sent a message to the SEC (submarine element coordinator) on board Independence, requesting a special “thank-you” for the F-14 pilot — a thank-you that, whenever they got a chance to get ashore to buy one, would include a very nice bottle of wine.
3. Four if by Sea, Six if by Land
Come to periscope depth,” Mack said. ”I want to have a quick look around before proceeding.” Cheyenne moved slowly from her current depth of three hundred feet beneath the surface of the South China Sea, pausing at one hundred thirty feet to clear baffles. When the sonar supervisor reported no contacts to the OOD, Cheyenne completed her excursion to fifty-nine feet. Before arriving, the OOD, Mack, and the crew members who were trying to eat could feel the effects of the sea state.