“Firing point procedures, Master 126, tubes one and two,” ordered the captain. “Firing point procedures, Master 126, tubes three and four.”
When the combat systems officer and executive officer looked to the captain with confusion, he elaborated, “Unit one for the main screws; then, when they spin up on the spinners, units two and three for the spinners. When that happens, we’ll be within range behind the Typhoon to light off MIDAS. Then we’ll detonate unit four over their missile deck.”
Mack’s gutsy plan went off without a hitch. Unit one ran to the Typhoon’s screws as intended. When sonar reported the spinners starting up, the next two units were guided to their points of destruction.
With the launch of the last two units, Cheyenne increased speed to match that of the torpedoes. The Russian captain finally decided to launch torpedoes at Cheyenne and the missiles at Taiwan, but by then it was too late. The fourth torpedo detonated above his missile deck before the first launch tube missile hatch could be opened. The result was the dishing in of all hatches so that they couldn’t be opened. In addition, the overpressure wave caused by the last Mk 48’s 650 pounds of explosive, coupled with the Typhoon’s depth and open torpedo tube muzzle doors, resulted in the Russian torpedo tube breech doors giving way. The torpedo room flooded and the Typhoon started to take on water.
That would have finished just about any other submarine in any navy in the world, but not the Typhoon. With its double hulls still intact, the would-be Russian admiral ordered all internal ballast dumped. Even if the outer ballast tanks were ruptured, the missile-tube water-compensation system would provide some buoyancy.
With the loss of what seemed like an insignificant amount of ballast, the Typhoon accelerated rapidly to the surface, but once there the Russians learned that the emergency escape capsule — which had never been practiced on a real submarine — could not be released.
With the lessons learned from the Mike SSN disaster in the North Sea off Norway, the Typhoon’s captain decided to remain where he was to await rescue. Mack knew the Russian captain had lost his cool; he was now in the South China Sea, where no Russian ships could come to his rescue. What’s more, Cheyenne had finally picked up the last Akula, whose captain had elected to pull off to be able to fight another day and which had managed to distance itself from the fray.
Cheyenne was there as the Typhoon reached the surface. The Russian submarine had been severely damaged, but Mack ordered four more torpedoes into the defenseless Typhoon.
There was seldom mercy in wartime, and Cheyenne’s and Mack’s orders were clear. If he had allowed the Typhoon to survive, its crew would have cut the missile hatches open with blow torches and completed their launch against Taiwan.
The result of the additional four torpedoes exploding beneath the Typhoon caused major seawater system flooding. The ensuing scene was similar to the devastation experienced by the Yankee class SSBN southeast of the Bermudas years before. Only this time there was no capability to protect and remove the crew.
Life rafts were put over the side, only to be attacked by the South China Sea shark population, so the crew watched helplessly from the huge, flat missile-tube deck. The oversized submarine started settling slowly deeper, the water level rising to within meters of the missile- tube deck, with the crew topside.
The captain — the admiral-to-be-had already sent a message to his North Fleet Headquarters concerning the impending demise of his capital ship and the lack of help from his Akula escorts by name, two of which had been sunk. He had not been given any means to communicate with the Chinese, so he resorted to calling home. After that he went topside to be with his men, sat down, and held hands in a circle as their submarine slid beneath the surface of the sea, sailors to the end, for eternity. The sharks did the rest.
Cheyenne’s Type 18 periscope had taped the entire sinking of the Typhoon, but Mack had no intention of showing it to the crew as their evening movie. He had confiscated the tape, ensuring that it would be seen again only in a closed audience as part of his patrol debriefing to a higher authority.
When the Russian North Fleet Headquarters received the message from the Typhoon, the commander-in-chief was astounded, and not just at the loss of one of his strategic assets. He was also furious and astonished at what seemed to be a refusal to follow orders by one of his Akula captains.
The scathing CO-Eyes Only message sent to the remaining Akula was clear. Its meaning was well understood by the Akula’s captain, because it made reference to his family — his wife and two daughters — who had been taken into “protective custody” by the Russian secret service.
Mack was nearing the periscope stand when sonar reported low-frequency tonal contact to the north. The tonals were classified by the sonar supervisor as coming from an Akula. They were weak, but closing.
The Akula captain, intimidated by his own chain of command, had decided to take on Cheyenne. He’d had no choice. Even without the threat to his family, returning to his homeland without being successful during war, even if it was a Chinese war, was tantamount to certain death.
He made two torpedoes ready for his own snap shots, in case they stumbled upon the quiet Cheyenne at close range. The Russian sonar operators were poised, carefully searching for any sign of Cheyenne with their towed array. They had all listened to the sounds of the deaths of their comrades on board the Akulas and the Typhoon, and they were eager to defeat Cheyenne.
Mack wasn’t about to let that happen. He wanted no more close-range encounters for Cheyenne. He intended for this battle to be like the earlier long-range attack on one of the earlier Akulas, Master 74.
The Akula was nearing the outer weapon range of both the U.S. and the Russian torpedoes when Mack manned battle stations torpedo. He had already expended eleven torpedoes, including the dead round he’d used as the off-board sensor. Thirteen Mk 48s and one lonely Harpoon remained, and the Harpoon would be of no use unless he could force the Akula to the surface. If it was damaged enough for that, it could be finished as Cheyenne had earlier done with the Romeo near Midway Island.
But Mack didn’t want it to come to that. The Typhoon’s death had been bad enough. Submariners, even the enemy, deserved to die with their ship rather than at the hands of the creatures of the sea.
Once battle stations were manned, Captain Mackey passed the order for the torpedo room to “make tubes one and two ready in all respects, including opening the outer doors.” In addition to making Cheyenne’s tubes ready as early as possible, he intended to launch two Mk 48s in the quiet “swim-out” mode as he had done with the off-board sensor, but this time they would be armed as weapons.
The remaining Akula, with its own towed array, had shown that he could be a quiet adversary. Naval intelligence still had not learned much about that sensor capability, so Mack decided to play it safe. He elected to follow the same plan he had used successfully earlier, steering the torpedoes off target so they would be attacking from bearings other than Cheyenne’s location.
“Make tubes one and two ready in all respects, including opening the outer doors, fire-control, torpedo room, aye.”
After the torpedo room reported completing the ordered evolution with the torpedo tubes, the executive officer informed Mack, “Captain, tubes one and two are ready in all respects. Both outer doors are open.”