“Damn!” said Keene, in an agony of dismay. “Something’s wrong. The torpedo hit but didn’t explode…”
“Control Room — Sonar,” Gordon’s voice broke in, “H.E.’s stopped, sir! I think we got him. That was an explosion! Last bearing Green five seven.”
“Good,” said P.K. “Periscope depth. Up periscope.” Once again P.K. examined the bearing. “Bring her up, Number One.” The Captain swung right round, examining the horizon, then came back to the original bearing. “There’s nothing there. That Tigerfish did its stuff, after all. It didn’t sound like it, though. Pilot, get a report ready: ‘Have sunk Tango class submarine in position so-and-so.’ We’ll check for survivors or wreckage, or any other evidence. But I don’t think there’s any doubt. That’s one down and three hundred and two to go.” “
‘Churchill reports torpedoing a submarine — a Tango — twenty miles north west of Herma Ness, sir!’ was the first bit of heartening news of the war for the Joint Allied Command Western Approaches. It was given to them, in their capacities as Cs-in-C Eastern Atlantic and Commander Maritime Air, Eastern Atlantic, at the first morning ‘briefing’ of the war, deep underground at Northwood, Middlesex. The Flag Officer Submarines, who since 1978 had been located at Northwood, was, as they said, ‘somewhat chuffed’ as his Chief Staff Officer made the report. ‘Are you quite sure that it wasn’t one of ours?’ was the question asked, simultaneously, by the Admiral and the Air Marshal. They were greatly relieved to be assured that it was not. ‘No doubt at all. It was a diesel-electric boat, and there were no NATO ones anywhere near.’ The discussion which ensued, regarding Soviet and NATO submarine dispositions, revealed that the avoidance of mutual interference between NATO’s own submarine forces, and between NATO surface and air anti-submarine forces and NATO submarines, would be a serious problem. This had been expected, but its resolution would continually govern the operations of all NATO naval and air forces.
Turning to current operations it was reported that the First Support Group (formerly STANAVFORLANT — Standing Naval Force Atlantic) was on its way, at best speed, towards the Norwegian coast. In about twelve hours it would reach the limit of shore-based air cover from the UK. The fast transports, carrying reinforcements for the northern flank, had sailed from the Forth and were expected to rendezvous with the First Support Group shortly.
The air strike planned against Soviet installations on and around the Kola peninsula on the outbreak of hostilities was launched from UK bases, and timed to achieve a co-ordinated on-target time of 1100 hours GMT. The force consisted of thirty-six Tornados and sixteen Buccaneers. The latter, venerable though they might be, had been retained, refitted and re-armed, in the maritime role as they were superseded by Tornados in the more complex and demanding Central European overland role. They were well respected for their performance, handling qualities and robustness — ‘Not built, carved out of the solid!’ noted one pilot with affection.
The targets were four Soviet Naval Air Force (SNAF) airfields on which were based the bulk of the Northern Fleet Backfire force. ‘Destroy the aircraft and close the airfields’ was the objective, and a tall order at that. The flight profile was straightforward: to fly with tanker support as far towards the Lofoten Islands as prudence (with regard to tanker survival) would permit, then to carry out an overland low-level penetration. The Tornados would recover to Britain with tanker assistance, the Buccaneers would refuel at Bodo. The attacks would open with anti-radar missiles fired at stand-off ranges by the Tornados to damp things down a little, and would then be pressed home with area weapons against runways and aircraft installations. Gun and rocket fire would then, it was hoped, finish off any unscathed aircraft.
And so it went, broadly. Remarkably, the Russians seemed, if not unprepared, at least surprised. Although no firm evidence has come to light, it has been suggested that they had assumed some form of tacit quid pro quo with the Americans, whereby neither would launch an attack upon the homeland of its adversary until escalation was approaching strategic levels. If so, it was an expensive assumption. A calm analysis — the immediate claims exhibited the usual optimism of war — showed a score of sixty-one Backfires destroyed and many damaged, which was certainly more than had been hoped. But there had been a cost: five Buccaneers and nine Tornados were lost during the attacks. Sadly, all but one of the remaining Buccaneers were caught on the ground at Bodo during their recovery by a massive Soviet attack on that airfield.
The three maritime radar reconnaissance squadrons of RAF Vulcans had been occupied in routine surface surveillance of the North and Norwegian Seas and the Eastern Atlantic for weeks. The scale and intensity of their operations now increased, co-ordinated with sea surveillance squadrons of USAF working in WESTLANT and the Greenland-Iceland gap. The loss of satellite surveillance of the Atlantic at the outbreak of hostilities placed an increased burden on their activities. Their first major customer appeared on the evening of 4 August, when a Vulcan detected what seemed most likely to be an amphibious landing group rounding the North Cape. One Vulcan squadron was now devoted to a round-the-clock surveillance of this group, working in co-operation with Norwegian fast patrol boats.
Anti-submarine operations in EASTLANT to clear the sea for Strike Fleet, particularly the vital gap between Greenland and the UK, for long a major role of the Royal Navy, had also been under way, on a surveillance basis. Now they were in earnest. Three ASW (anti-submarine warfare) groups of the RN, supported by Dutch and Norwegian surface units, combed the ocean, co-ordinating their operations with the RAF, USAF and Royal Norwegian Air Force maritime patrol aircraft based in the UK, Iceland and Norway. Air defence cover was provided by an escort carrier, land-based fighters from the UK supported by tankers, and AEW (airborne early warning) Nimrods. Further west, Iceland-based F-15s would cover the operations. Whatever their quarry, Strike Fleet or convoys, the Soviet submarines had to be detected, and hopefully destroyed, here in the gap.
As far as sea management was concerned, the proclamation by the British government of a state of emergency, a week previously, had been indispensable. It had enabled the Naval Control of Shipping to be instituted, the reserves to be mobilized, and a large number of dormant appointments to be activated, setting up Naval Officers-in-Charge at all the major ports. Mine counter-measures had been started, on the pathetically small scale which was all that could be done with the derisory forces available.
The first JACWA briefing, which followed that of EASTLANT, was dominated by reports, many of which came in by telephone and teleprinter during the meeting, of heavy fighting in northern Germany and the Baltic Exits. A desperate message from the Commander Allied Forces Baltic Approaches (COMB ALTAP), at Karup in Denmark, was typicaclass="underline"
‘To CINCNORTH, for information to JACWA:
‘ 1 Soviet ground forces with air support are attacking Aarhus.
‘2 Minelaying in Great Belt and Langeland Belt 50 per cent completed.
‘3 All operational naval forces ordered to sea. Submarines will patrol in Kattegat. Surface forces are to engage hostile surface forces as opportunity offers, retiring on Stavanger for replenishment. Operational control now with Allied Commander Naval Forces Scandinavian Approaches.