He entered the ship’s superstructure, drank in the warmth, and made his way aft down the steps to the galley. Harding took his place in the line-up with the rest of the crew. He could have taken his breakfast in his cabin but preferred to mix in with the men. He was a goddamn sailor like the rest of them. If it was good enough for them, it was good enough for him.
He chose a table.
“Mind if I join you guys?”
“No Sir. Please.” The sailor gestured for the Captain to sit.
He stayed to eat and shoot the shit with his men, then left for the control room. It was full of men and women sitting at screens wearing headsets.
“Mike, Victor, Alfa, Charlie. You are clear sector Delta two.”
“Copy Romeo Whiskey twelve. Benfield reports zero traffic at this time. Over.”
The Principal Air Warfare officer talked down an SH-60B Seahawk.
“Rodger Blue light one, you are vector one six two. You have four miles to feet dry. OOTD is waiting for your call. Call him November, Kilo niner, six, eight, decimal four. Repeat. November, Kilo niner, six, eight, decimal four.”
A woman’s voice came back over the RT.
“Copy Benfield. November, Kilo niner, six, eight, decimal four. Blue light is inbound at five hundred feet.”
“How’s it look Dizzy?”
The ship’s Executive Officer, Mike Diz, looked over. “Pretty quiet, some fishing boat activity. There was a PRKN offshore patrol boat, but it’s gone north.”
“Ok, we’re thirty five miles offshore, we’ll come south. Pilot, ship’s bearing two four five degrees, speed twelve knots.”
“Aye, Sir.” Benfield turned to port and came abeam. Her four General Electric LM2500-30 gas turbines were not taxed much by the low speed. Half of her two hundred and eighty complement slept on through their off watch. They’d come on watch in the afternoon.
“SONAR. ENEMY SURFACE ship. Prop change, speed is now twelve knots, heading south, south east. Range narrowing, eighteen kilometres. Bearing two zero two degrees.”
“Come to four zero degrees, speed nine knots,” said Commander Jeong Seok. The PRKN Sang-O class submarine Badabaem (Sea Snake) came to her new heading. Her Trout Cheek sonar was more than capable of tracking the American destroyer at this range.
“Keep a good ear out Sonar, I want to know if he changes tack before he does.”
“Sir.”
Badabaem headed out away from the coast on an intercept track with the ship. Thirty minutes later, the gap had narrowed.
“Sonar, can you get an ID?” asked Jeong.
“Sir, it looks like an Arleigh Burke class destroyer. I’m eighty five percent positive on that. Bearing thirty three degrees, range nine point six kilometres.”
“Rig trim to ascend fore and aft. One forward. Come to periscope depth.” Jeong made a note on a pad at his conn. He handed it to the Communications Officer.
“Make that message to Eastern Fleet, code Tuesday 8th.”
“Yes, Sir.” He typed it into the set and transmitted.
EASTERN FLEET. SUBMARINE OPERATIONS.
BADABAEM. ID E33U7T29. POSITION 38 266 175N 179 033 455W
ENEMY USN DDG 9KM TO EAST. HEADING SSW. REQUEST INSTRUCTIONS.
BADABEAM OUT.
Ten minutes later the reply came back.
BADABAEM. ID E33U7T29
EASTERN FLEET. SUBMARINE OPERATIONS. ID782EB7GE84-AA
OPERATION MT PAEKTU. REPEAT. OPERATION MT PAEKTU.
WORKERS PARTY OF KOREA WISH YOU WELL.
EASTERN FLEET. SUBMARINE OPERATIONS OUT.
Commander Jeong Seok read the message and raised his eyebrows. Operation Mt Paektu?
“Sonar update on enemy vessel?”
“Bearing thirty three five, range nine point two kilometres.”
“Flood one. Open and trim vents fore and aft. Make for depth. Down twenty, depth four five meters. Speed nine knots.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Badabaem dived under the grey swell, leaving no trace. Jeong knew he carried the honour of the PRKN with him this day. He’d need to be at his best.
“Weapons officer. Make checks on type 53s.” The Weapons Officer moved to the forward torpedo room. If called on, the Type 53 had plenty of range, typically forty kilometres, using the Otto fuel axial engine.
A few minutes later, he returned. “Two checked out, Sir.”
“Load tubes one and two.” The two Type 53s were already slung from overhead racking and were quickly loaded.
“Tubes ready, Sir.”
“Flood both tubes. Open outer doors.”
“COMMUNICATIONS. SIR, we detected a wide band encrypted signal somewhere to our west. The code type is consistent with PRKN signals.”
“Any reply so far?” asked Captain Harding.
“No, Sir.”
“Sonar?”
“Indeterminate, Sir. The South Korean fishing squadron to our west is causing acoustic interference in that quarter.”
“Ok, keep trying.”
“I’m applying filters now Sir.”
“Comms, listen for any possible reply.”
The minutes dragged on, and USS Benfield headed south.
“Communications. Possible reply detected Sir.”
“PSA Officer, any surface vessels apart from the fishing boats to our west?”
“Negative Sir,” replied the Principal Surface Action Officer. This could be a submarine, it would have to be checked out.
“Come to two seven zero, speed sixteen knots.”
“Aye Sir.” Benfield turned to starboard.
“Sonar. Fish in the water. Fish in the water. Catalogue Russian, type 53. Range five point seven miles, speed fifty MPH.” Harding calculated it in his head, less than seven minutes to impact.
Klaxons sounded throughout the ship.
Whoop, whoop. “Battle stations, battle stations.” Whoop, whoop. “Battle stations, battle stations.” Men and women donned white anti-flash hoods and scurried to their battle stations. Damage control parties took up their positions.
“Sonar. Range four miles. Fish is going wide to the north.” Harding knew the 53 was wire guided and its operator knew they’d be heading west. He’d be going wide to come in for a starboard side impact.
“Ready countermeasures. Load tubes. Ripple effect, high to low.” Noisemaking and bubble dispensing decoys would be ejected mortar style, fired from deck tubes with high angle long range first. Lowering to shorter range next; creating a wall of confusion to the incoming torpedo. Benfield had a chance.
“Sonar, mark target. Weaps, launch ASROC,” commanded Captain Harding. The rocket launched anti-submarine missile blasted off on a tower of flame from its launcher. It carried a MK 46 torpedo that would be parachuted into the sea near the target. The Mk 46 would then perform a snake or circle search to locate its target with onboard sonar.
“Sonar. Fish is turning in. Range two point six miles.”
“Weaps, ASROC launched, the bird is flying.”
“Comms, let COMSEVENTHFLT Yokosuka know we are under attack. Suspected Sang-O class boat.”
“Sir.”
The type 53 raced in ever closer.
“Sonar, the fish has gone active, it’s pinging.” The type 53 possessed a phased array active sonar for terminal guidance.
“Second fish in the water. Catalogue Russian, type 53. Range, four point eight miles.” The guidance wire had been cut so the operator was now able to control the second fish.
“Range point five miles.”
“Come to eight five degrees, face the fish.” Benfield turned to starboard to present the smallest area to the incoming torpedo.
“Launch countermeasures, port side. Three, two, one. Now.” Cylindrical canisters flew from tubes high and low.
THE TORPEDO DETONATED six feet to the port side of USS Benfield’s hull; the countermeasures had partially done their job. The hull ripped open fifteen feet astern of the bow. Seawater flooded in, and watertight doors protected all compartments to the rear, but the ship’s forward motion quickly flooded the compartment.