“Ready Chaff to starboard. PWASW launch ASROC at the launch point.”
The Destroyer fired rocket-launched torpedoes at the submarine; these would drop into the sea from parachutes and search for the sub. At least the Kimberly Peer was fighting back.
A SOLID ROCKET PROPELLANT booster accelerated the speed of the missile to Mach 0.9 in a few seconds. Its booster burned out, the missile's turbo jet engine started. Controlled by the radio altimeter and inertial autopilot system, the missile flew at a cruising speed of Mach 0.9, the altitude reduced to 10–20 metres.
As it entered the terminal phase of flight, the missile switched on its terminal guidance radar to search for the target. Within a couple of miles of the target, the missile dropped to 17 feet above sea level. The ship’s electronic countermeasures forced the missile upwards; the missile countered this and dropped again. The countermeasures forced it up again and an undulating flight path resulted as the two sides fought an electronic duel. The missile tried to manoeuvre sideways to make it a more difficult target for shipborne air defense systems. Countermeasures fought to stop this. When approaching the target, the missile would try to dive to hit the waterline of the ship to inflict maximum damage.
“Range one mile.”
“Launch Chaff to starboard.” The chaff cloud bloomed, tempting the missile away.
A ruckus buzzing sound came from the rear of the ship as the Phalanx cannons poured a hail of lead into the missile’s path at a rate of 3,000 rounds a minute.
In the last few seconds of the missile's flight, the countermeasures deflected the missile upwards. The missile slammed into the hanger and exploded, blowing the hangar and the rear half of the ship’s superstructure away. It failed to hit its target at the waterline. The USS Kimberly Peer was ablaze and in serious trouble, but she was still afloat.
THE DAMAGE CONTROL team extinguished the small fire at the control room’s rear. Operators coughed at their consoles.
“XO, what’s the sitrep on damage?” asked Brockman.
“Aft is a wreck, half of it’s gone. We’ll struggle to get the Seahawk down, but we’ll do it. The engine room has been damaged but can be repaired in a couple of hours. We got off lightly there.”
“Bottom line. Lieutenant Commander?”
“Bottom line. Our damage control teams are on top of their game. We’re out of the fight but she’s salvable, I’d say head for the Philippine Navy base at Puerto Princesa City, Palawan Island.”
She looked down. “Casualties?”
“Thirty eight dead, fifty six injured. Some critical, sir. They need help, more than we’ve got.”
Captain Jane Brockman didn’t like it, but it had to be done.
“Ok, Thanks. Helm, come about, head southeast. We’re going to Palawan.”
GENERAL COTTON BROUGHT the meeting of the joint chiefs to order.
“Ladies and gentlemen, The USS Kimberly Peer. What do we do?”
Present, was the Chief of Staff of the Army General Sally Weingarten, USA.
Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Nicolaj Kamov, USN.
Commandant of the Marine Corps Bruce Nanut, USMC.
Chief of Staff of the Air Force General Neil L Cooper, USAF.
National Security Advisor, Stockhaisen.
“Right, we’re here to discuss the situation in the South China Sea,” said General Cotton.
“Can you share your thoughts?”
“Not really,” said Commandant of the Marine Corps Bruce Nanut. “I’d make a Gunnery Sargent blush.”
“We have that sub over there,” said General Cooper, “so sink the Chinese sub.”
“No,” said Admiral Kamov.
“Why?”
“Her mission is too important, she’d give herself away. No one must suspect that she’s there. She’s a ghost of the deeps right now.”
“They’ve reclaimed and expanded islands all over the South China Sea. We must be able to do something,” said Stockhaisen.
“We should keep away from Mischief, Johnson South and Fiery Cross, let our boat do her thing,” Kamov threw his hands in the air.
“Neil, can the Air Force do something?” asked General Cotton.
“We’ll need a base. Guam’s one, but we could do with something closer,” said General Cooper, “we can forget the Philippines with Duterte in power.”
“I may have a solution,” said General Sally Weingarten, “Vietnam. They’re in dispute with the Chinese over several of the islands. There’s no love lost between them. In 1988 they lost sixty four men in a skirmish with the Chinese on Johnson Reef South. I’ve got good connections over there. I can get in contact with General Le Cang in Da Nang. We’ve a chance.”
“Anybody got any objections?” asked General Cotton. A chorus of no’s came back.
“Ok Sally, do your stuff. Fly over there.”
NATHAN, THE XO, INNES and Alves sat at the table in the Wardroom.
“Ok, so that’s it,” said Nathan. “Are you fine with the Exfil plan?”
Alves nodded. “Sir.”
“Yes sir,” said Innes.
“Good, we’ll enter the channel at oh one hundred hours tomorrow, so three and a half hours’ time. Oh three hundred hours is H hour. Good luck.”
The two divers left.
“It’s gonna be tough out there, Nathan.”
“I know. Another night time swim into who knows what. At least they’ve already got a mission done together.” Nathan shook his head. “I wish I knew how deep that damn channel is.” He wondered too about company in the channel, would ships or boats use it in the night? It could get tricky. What would his old mentor Captain Franks of USS NYC have done?
Nathan walked into the control room at midnight.
“CONTROL ROOM. RIG FOR red.” The room was bathed in a dull red light, it would be easier for his eyes to adjust to the night vision display in the periscope. He’d be using the monitor screen at the Conn and night vision viewer in the scope. But, you never knew. Besides, red was what you used for night operations, it was traditional. Just before H hour, he unhooked the microphone.
“All hands, all hands. We are just outside the northern entrance to the enemy’s naval base. We’re going to try sneaking in tonight. It’s going to be very tricky and shallow, we don’t really know how deep the channel will be. Rig strictly for silent running. At the right point, we’ll deploy our divers, Chief Petty Officers Michael Innes and Hugo Alves. They’ll carry out our task tonight. We’re here to get intel from the enemy, we’re here to find out things about him he’d rather nobody know. We’ll know. The Joint Chiefs wanted someone to take a dump on Joe Chinaman’s dinner. Who did they ask for? Who’s the meanest ass in the fleet? The USS Stonewall Jackson, that’s who. They got the best. Now let’s go do it. Commander out.” He placed the microphone on its hook. “Come to periscope depth, up bubble ten.”
“Periscope depth sir.”
Nathan set the controls for a pop up and 360 sweep. He looked at the night vision display, all clear.
“Enter the lagoon, forward five knots.” After a few minutes, he tried another pop up and sweep. There, visible down the channel in the distance, were the lights of the base.
“Come to starboard, I want to face due north.” The boat turned about.
“Rig trim to ascend fore and aft, stern ballast one quarter. Reverse, speed four knots.” The boat reversed slowly into the channel with her stern raised off the bottom. She dragged her bow behind her. After two minutes he raised the periscope and looked astern, he lowered the view to look at the channel and the sea immediately behind the boat. Could they be making a disturbance in the sea?