First Salvo (36 page)

“My mission?”

“Aye, sir. Our group was under heavy submarine attack, lost two escorts, and
Illustrious
took a hole yesterday. Admiral Harrow thought it best to explain how the whole NATO plan was developing, and he mentioned about the American SEAL team, I guess so none of us would feel we were the only ones out here.”

Ryng gestured toward the smoke. “More torpedoes?”

“There might have been one or two more. But it was missiles that did her in—from those big Russian bombers. They came in a couple of hours back, after Admiral Harrow was forced to commit his Harriers to that Russian base here, we were told. They weren’t sure whether or not you got your job done. Didn’t leave any real air defense. They were abandoning
Illustrious
when I left the submarine. Probably have to sink her soon’s everyone’s accounted for.” Ryng still hadn’t moved from the spot. “I think it best we get under way, sir. Our captain isn’t terribly excited about these shallow waters.”

Ryng moved stiffly toward the rubber boat.

He hoped his report would not be too late, that he and Denny and Harry Winters and all the rest had pulled it off.

AFTER THE FIRST SALVO

S
oviet doctrine was having a rough go of it that day. According to computer projections, refined by months’ worth of strategic alternatives, more Backfires should have penetrated the outer ring of Admiral Pratt’s defenses. The actual loss of the aircraft was of little concern to Moscow; it was the loss of the missiles these aircraft were to deliver that forced them to generate revised scenarios as the day progressed.

To achieve a satisfactory success ratio, the cruise missiles first had to survive approximately 250 miles through the antimissile defense of a battle group; even to arrive at that launch point, a fixed number of Backfires had to survive. The success of the first salvo would be based on the number of missiles that remained in the air through to the primary zone—the initial thirty to forty miles from the center of the battle group. That was why the leaders in Moscow were reprogramming even before their missiles were launched. The optimum number of bombers simply hadn’t made it to launch point.

Of equal concern were their subsurface forces. The computer could not generate revised projections in that sector, for the fate of the submarines would be unknown until it was all over. If the submarines were successful, if they penetrated the ASW barrier Wendell Nelson had established, then the diminished effect of the Backfire attack might possibly be balanced. The intelligence they had hoped for in this respect was limited, but a sufficient amount came through to Moscow to make them believe that enough of the NATO forces were still afloat to leave the situation in doubt.

Kharkov
and her escorts were proceeding toward
Kennedy
’s battle group at maximum speed when they sustained their heaviest attack that day. It was conducted by
Kennedy
’s heavy-attack squadron of Intruders, a follow-up to the earlier attack from the
Saratoga
. Admiral Konstantin aboard
Kharkov
had expected the air attacks and was satisfied that the damage had been no worse. The carrier had taken five hits, only one considered serious, a two-thousand-pound bomb forward that had destroyed her cruise-missile capability. While fires still smoldered forward, she continued to operate her aircraft.

There had been a cruiser, two guided-missile destroyers, and two frigates lost, but they were expendable. What concerned Admiral Konstantin was the limited intelligence on the American submarines. He knew the Egyptians and the Israelis had allowed American attack submarines to hover in their protected waters. The loss of satellite intelligence had severely constrained his knowledge of their movements both ahead of and behind him. They could be a potent force, a possible turning point.

Now Konstantin was approaching the outer range of his surface missiles. Shortly he would bolster the air attack with his own missiles and, hopefully, those of his submarines—at least those still able to provide reinforcement.

The intelligence from NATO’s northern flank was disturbing. It was not so much the reports arriving in Moscow as the lack of them. Communications had been successfully jammed in that region for more than twenty-four hours. Reconnaissance satellites had been neutralized by an unexpected source, possibly laser-beam systems that the Russians had not anticipated. Murmansk’s northern submarine force instituted radio silence within five hundred miles of the American CAPTOR barrier. The only intelligence the Russians gained was from the underwater disturbance in this area. The CAPTORs had been activated—but by whom or what remained a mystery. American resupply convoys continued with minimum harassment. Moscow was aware that numerous American submarines were still operating in that area, which could mean that the Soviet force had been delayed, destroyed, or that an undersea battle would soon develop.

With a certain reluctance on the part of a number of members of the State Committee for Defense, preliminary orders were transmitted to the Strategic Rocket Forces. Their hesitation was based on a mistrust of General Colonel Melekhin. He was not of the old crowd, like Keradin. Melekhin was young; he had advanced rapidly because of his political connections. Yet there was a concern among the older members that he was trigger happy—that he was willing to act possibly on his own rather than under their strict orders. They saw the Strategic Rocket Forces as a threat in itself, not as a weapon that would be placed in action as part of an overall scheme. Many of the older members envisioned the awful specter of retaliation. They saw this war simply as an opportunity to expand the Motherland’s boundaries, and they could not accept the idea of ICBMs raining down on their country. They would rely on Melekhin if it became absolutely necessary, but their final hope lay in the fact that General Keradin had yet to surface. His disappearance had created dissension and an inability to use the Strategic Rocket Forces as they had once anticipated.

With that in mind, Moscow determined that the final phase should commence in the Mediterranean slightly ahead of schedule. The American carrier battle groups had taken a beating, but they still retained the capability to defend themselves. The orders were given for the lead ships, with
Kharkov
,
to open fire with their missiles on the perimeter defenses. Those would be the ASW ships under Admiral Pratt’s command which were already hard pressed by the persistence of Soviet missile submarines.

A cruise missile launched at a surface ship by a submarine or another surface ship can be a formidable weapon if properly employed. Skimming the surface of the ocean above the speed of sound, it is extremely difficult to track. Quite often, the first warning of its approach is given when its homing device locks on the targeted ship. By then, it is often too late to effect any defense other than the last-ditch one—Phalanx.

A signal was transmitted to the Soviet submarines. They were to surface to assist in the control of the first missiles. With midcourse guidance, the range of the missiles from the surface ships would be tripled. The Russians were concerned about the longer range of the Harpoon missiles aboard the American ships. Exposing their remaining submarines was a desperate move.

For those submarines, surfacing could be a deadly strategy. Their natural element was underneath the sea, and it was there that they enjoyed a true advantage. On the surface, they were simply slower, unwieldy ships no longer able to utilize secrecy as a major defense—they were fish out of water.

It was a surprise to Admiral Pratt’s beleaguered ASW ships and aircraft when the subsurface contacts they had been so intent on holding down to deny use of their missiles appeared on the surface. The purpose of this illogical exposure was not immediately evident. Fire-control solutions, whether with torpedoes, missiles, or even guns were executed with ease. The quarry was attacked and destroyed, one by one.

The purpose of these subs’ committing certain suicide was not apparent until missile-warning detectors were activated in
Kennedy
’s
battle group. The Soviet missiles wreaked havoc with the perimeter force. It took little time for the Soviet submarines’ radars to lock on their targets, transmit the fire-control information to the missiles, and, if they had survived that long, to dive.

New guided-missile frigates like
John Hall
or
Stephen Groves
had little chance against the huge warheads. They were literally blown out of the water. Larger ships, Spruance-class destroyers like
Caron
or
John Rodgers
,
survived the missiles, though severely damaged. But the combination of missiles and then torpedoes finished them.

Dave Pratt realized in
Yorktown
’s CIC that the two opposing forces—the Soviet subs and the American perimeter defense— were now neutralized. There would be little more contribution from them to either side. The Battle of the Mediterranean was drawing to a close. How it ended would be based on which surface force survived. If Nelson’s sweep to the south proved effective over the next hour, and the Soviet submarines in that area were prevented from launching missiles, it would come down to an old-fashioned faceoff between the main elements of two battle groups, just as had occurred generations before during the Second World War.

The undersea battle had run its course. The combatants in the air war had been exhausted.

ABOARD U.S.S.
BRISCOE
,
HEADING NORTH TOWARD THE MAIN BATTLE GROUP

W
endell Nelson had been correct. The Russian submarines heading in his direction reversed course directly into the sweep line coordinated by
Nicholson.
It was a textbook execution, even more effective than the first one Nelson had demonstrated two days previously. The three destroyers and three frigates in
Nicholson
’s squadron each were flying helicopters. This doubled their force effectiveness, likely outnumbering the submarines they faced, and the helos were phantoms to the subs, appearing out of nowhere, unpredictably, when least anticipated.

The Soviet submarines’ speed advantage was negated by the tactics Nelson had refined back in Newport. Not one of the subs was able to gain time or position to fire its cruise missiles. It became an action of attrition. Over a forty-minute period, five submarines were sunk by homing torpedoes. At the same time, two of the three frigates, somewhat slower and unable to survive if even one shaft was damaged, were sunk.

As
Briscoe
approached from the rear of the battle, unrecognized by the desperate submarines,
Nicholson
took a torpedo forward. In a series of violent explosions, first in the magazine under her forward gun mount, then as flames consumed the warheads in her ASROC launcher,
Nicholson
was blown apart in sections. As flames swept the remainder of the ship, a final blast in her fuel tanks sent her to the bottom.

Nelson ordered
Briscoe
into range with her ASROC-launched torpedoes. He was positive they had caught one more submarine when a tremendous explosion rocked
Briscoe.
She had been detected after all. The torpedo had not been deterred by her decoys. Instead, it struck aft, and in a series of explosions, the ship lost steering gear and both screws. Helpless,
Briscoe
wallowed in the swells, flames sweeping into the after magazines. Damage control lost water pressure. Though her forward weapons were capable of continuing the fight,
Briscoe
could no longer maneuver. Fires, now out of control, soon swept through her electrical system.

Once again the confrontation had been fatal for both sides. Out of the force that Wendell Nelson had taken south for Admiral Pratt, two destroyers now turned north to rejoin the battle group. Nelson transferred to his third ship that day, and headed north aboard
Samuel Eliot Morison
,
one of the few guided-missile frigates to survive.

Wendell Nelson found the last few rungs of the ladder to
Morison’
s bridge suddenly very steep. He’d never been aboard one of the little ships. Were they really built so oddly or was exhaustion sweeping over him?

Morison
’s captain extended a welcoming hand as Nelson ambled slowly into the pilothouse. “I know this isn’t the type of luxury you’re used to…”

Nelson smiled wearily. “Captain, if this little fellow can stay afloat for the remainder of the day, that’s enough luxury for me.” He let the commanding officer’s hand go, sagging tiredly against the chart table. “You know I hate to admit it, but I didn’t even see the name on the fantail when you came alongside for me, or it just didn’t register.”

“She’s the
Samuel Eliot Morison
,
sir.”

Nelson’s eyebrows rose for a second. Then he smiled faintly. He had read literally every word written by the famous naval historian
Samuel Eliot Morison.
Now he had been saved by the ship given the great man’s name. He stepped out on the bridge wing, leaning on the railing, and stared out at the horizon. Finally, he turned to the commanding officer, who had moved beside him. “I owe you one sometime, Captain, because I didn’t get your name either, and it’s one I want to remember.”

“Two days ago I was sure you were going to have me relieved. I was the one who argued so much with you at that commanding officers’ meeting about your new tactics. My name’s Bill Stritzler.”

Nelson smiled wanly. “It’s been a couple of years for me since that meeting—or it seems like it. Did you execute those tactics?”

“Yes, sir. They worked beautifully—especially since we depend on our helos.”

“Any idea how many submarines you might have gotten?”

“I like to think we were involved in three of them.”

“Well, Bill, when we get back home, your penance for arguing with me that day will be to write a paper on your tactics. You see, I lost two ships in one day and you’ve come out smelling like a rose. Either you’re damn lucky or damn smart, but I think we might make a good team.” Nelson extended his hand.

Stritzler squeezed the proffered hand. “Were you ever a skeptic, sir?”