“Unit one… unit two also, both units have now acquired,” reported the combat systems officer.
“Cut the wires,” Mack ordered. “I want to be as far away as possible when those torpedoes explode.” The 650-pound warhead, Mack was aware, could damage any submarine, Chinese or not, if it was close when the torpedo detonated. “Shut the outer doors and reload tubes one and two with Mk 48s.”
When they were far enough away, Mack slowed Cheyenne to four knots. They were still close to Chinese home waters and he didn’t want to risk detection again. With the loss of the Kilo, they’d probably figure out soon enough that there was an enemy submarine in the area, but Mack felt reasonably comfortable that he could avoid detection by running quietly.
Mack was also confident that the Kilo itself had nowhere to run. On one side was the Chinese coastline; on the other was a large, deadly minefield. Once the Mk 48s had acquired the Kilo, Mack was sure that the Chinese submarine was doomed.
“Conn, sonar,” the Sonar Supervisor reported, “the Kilo is drawing left again, heading in the direction of the Chinese minefield. The Mk 48s are still following it.”
Mack was calm as he acknowledged the report, but he had to admit to a certain grudging respect for the Chinese captain. Desperate, knowing that his ship had no chance to survive the torpedoes bearing down on it, he had taken the one gamble left open to him.
“Conn, sonar, explosion in the water, bearing 110.”
Mack tensed, waiting for the end of the report.
“Captain, we just lost unit one. The first Mk 48 hit a mine.”
Mack nodded, his admiration for his opponent growing slightly. The desperate gamble had paid off — so far. But there was still one more Mk 48 out there, and it was locked on to the Kilo.
The twin explosions of the first Mk 48 and the mine it had detonated sent shock waves through the entire minefield. Because the Chinese had, in some locations, laid the mines too close together, the pressure from the first explosions began touching off other explosions, and two more mines exploded within seconds.
Moments later, the sonar room reported a third explosion. The sonar supervisor assumed it was also a Chinese mine because the second Mk 48 was still chasing its prey.
“Conn, sonar, another explosion,” the sonar supervisor said a short time later. “We’ve lost contact with unit two. I think it just hit a mine.”
The desperate gamble had paid off. The Kilo had avoided both torpedoes, but it was still in trouble. It was deep in the middle of a minefield, and it knew there was an enemy out there somewhere, stalking it.
Less than one minute after the second Mk 48 hit a mine, sonar detected two more explosions.
“Conn, sonar, two more explosions, bearing 112. I’m hearing breaking-up noises. The Kilo, Master 112, must have run itself into a mine.”
The sound of groaning metal was unmistakable. As the Kilo sank, Mack thought about what had just happened. Desperate times called for desperate measures, he knew, but sometimes they just didn’t work.
The irony was that this time it had worked — it just hadn’t worked well enough. It wasn’t one of the Mk 48s that had killed the Kilo; it was the Chinese’s own low-tech mines.
Cheyenne’s entire crew had now seen firsthand what damage a Chinese minefield could do to a submarine. The problem, however, was that the narrow path that Cheyenne was following could easily turn into a “killing zone” for her just as it had for the Kilo.
But Mack didn’t have much choice. If he was to accomplish his mission, he had to take Cheyenne along this route. He just hoped he had better luck than the unfortunate Kilo’s captain.
Eight hours later, Cheyenne was still running at four knots and had her TB-16 towed array deployed to the short stay. Eight sonar contacts had been evaluated as non-threats.
“Conn, sonar, after clearing our baffles, we’ve got two more contacts bearing 004. Sounds like surface warships, Captain.”
“We’re working on range to the contacts right now, Captain,” reported the fire-control coordinator.
Mack immediately began moving Cheyenne to a position where they could more easily triangulate the range to the two sonar contacts.
“They’re two Luda I destroyers, the kind without the helicopter. The computer just identified their screw characteristics,” one of the sonar operators said to the sonar supervisor.
Since the naval war with China began, Cheyenne’s library of sonar contacts, used to identify sonar signals received while on a mission, had grown tremendously. This was due largely to Cheyenne’s stellar performance during her undersea operations and her resulting contacts with just about every class of Chinese warship operated by their navy — which allowed Cheyenne to record their sound characteristics and correlate to hull type. Without this library, the sonar operators would have little idea what types of targets they were tracking.
Mack ordered the Mk 48s from tubes one and two removed and replaced with Harpoons. This took some time, but it greatly improved his attack options.
Several long minutes passed before the BSY-1 computers were finally able to calculate a range to the two destroyers. “Range to the closest Luda, Master 121, is 22,000 yards,” the fire-control coordinator reported. “Range to the second one, Master 122, is 28,000 yards. They are both running at sixteen knots.”
“Very well,” Mack said.
The Harpoon was Mack’s weapon of choice for this situation. Not only would it save his multipurpose Mk 48s for future operations, but it also allowed Cheyenne more of a chance to escape once they had launched their missiles.
The Mk 48s were seeker-type weapons. After launching them, Cheyenne continued to provide them with targeting data until their seeker heads had acquired the target. Only after they had acquired could Mack cut the wires to them and withdraw from the area.
The Harpoons, however, were essentially “launch and leave” missiles. Once they were loaded with their flight and target data they didn’t need any further assistance. Following their launch, there was nothing for Cheyenne to do except get back to deep water and move out of the enemy’s way. The Harpoons were also ten times faster than an Mk 48, giving the surface ships less time to react.
Order by order, step by step, Mack readied the Harpoons. When they launched, the noises of combat firings could be heard throughout the submarine.
“Tubes one and two fired electrically, Captain.”
After being ejected from Cheyenne’s torpedo tubes, the Harpoon canisters floated toward the surface. As the two buoyant capsules, pointed in a forty-five-degree up angle, reached the surface, they jettisoned their nose caps and aft bodies. The missiles’ boosters ignited, sending the missiles out of the water.
The missiles emerged from the water, fast and sleek as they entered their element. Once airborne, their booster rockets continued to burn, as they were designed to, for approximately three more seconds before the Harpoons’ main turbojets fired, sending the missiles onward — toward the two unknowing Chinese Ludas.
Mack didn’t stick around to admire their flight. As soon as he received word that the missiles had left his submarine, he ordered the OOD to increase speed to ten knots and exited the area, hoping no other submarines were around.
The two UGM-84 missiles made their way quickly toward the two Ludas. As soon as they had closed to within one nautical mile, the Harpoons began their terminal maneuver. Instead of the regular “pop-up” maneuver, Mack had ordered that these two missiles be programmed to drop from cruising altitude to the sea-skimming height of five feet before sneaking into the two destroyers.