Attack of the Seawolf

Pacino hunched over the chart table in the control room, checking the plotting of the Chinese task forces and Seawolf’s position at the entrance to the northern passage at the Bohai Haixia Strait. The Tampa had already entered the channel and was on the way east, the dot on the chart marked with the time of her position. Pacino stood and looked at Lieutenant Tim Turner.

“Tim, you ready?”

“Yes sir.”

“Off’sa’deck, man silent battle stations

“Man silent battle stations aye, sir. Chief of the Watch! Man silent battle stations

The COW acknowledged and spoke into his headset:

“All spaces. Control, man battle stations

The control room filled with men, each taking his watch station and putting on cordless headsets with boom microphones. Usually manning silent battle stations took ten minutes before the space’s phone talkers could get everyone out of bed with the verbal announcement that the ship was manning battle stations then it would take the men two minutes to dress and get to their watch stations another two minutes to relieve the watch, a minute for a relieved watch stander to go to his own battle station and relieve that watch stander By the time the daisy chain of watch reliefs ended it could be fifteen minutes later. But when Turner reported battle stations manned it was less than sixty seconds later — the on-edge crew had been waiting for the order.

Pacino leaned over Bill Feyley’s weapon-control console, checking the tube-loading status indication on the CRT display.

“Weps, I want tube eight to be loaded at all times with a Mark 50 torpedo for a quick reaction firing — our insurance. Tube eight is mine-one through seven are yours.”

“Aye, sir.”

“I want a thirty-second firing interval, no more.

When I shoot a tube I expect the crew to be reloading immediately, and I want that operation to be quiet. You pass the word to your people below. What have you got in one through seven?”

“Tube-loaded Block III Javelin encapsulated cruise missiles with time-delay systems. All weapons powered up and self-checks nominal.”

“Very well.” Pacino checked the time. He was ahead of schedule. He moved up on the elevated periscope stand and looked out over the faces in the crowded control room, one of them belonging to Commander Jack Morris, who covered his nerves with a war face.

“Attention in the firecontrol team.” The room became instantly quiet, the only sound the whine of the spinning ESGN ball and the booming of the ventilation system.

“Operation Jailbreak is now into its second minute. Here’s the deal.

“In a few minutes we’ll be launching Javelins set for delayed launch. When they’re all gone we’ll be putting out a salvo of Mark 38 decoys down the channel and a few to the south. Then a salvo of Mark 50 torpedoes, most down the channel. Then another round of decoys. The Tampa will be beginning her run down the strait any minute now. At approximately 1900, everything happens at once. The surface force will detect the initial wave of decoys, the torpedoes will go active and seek out targets, the Javelins launched between 1730 and 1830 will liftoff, the torpedoes will acquire and detonate, the Javelins will impact, and Seawolf and Tampa will transit beneath the distracted surface force.

“The only thing between us and freedom will be the Chinese aircraft carrier guarding the exit of the channel. I expect an aircraft attack, which we’ll answer with our remaining Mark 80 SLAAMs. When we get close to the carrier we’ll launch the Ow-sow, and with luck the ship will be damaged enough or too distracted to attack us on the way out. I hope you’re all ready for a tough watch tonight. It’s now 1732 Beijing time.

Our ETA at the channel exit in international waters is 2115. We’ve got some shooting to do between now and then.”

Morris went up to the conn and looked out at the activity in the room. Pacino nudged him, noticing he had his holstered Beretta pistol with him. What the hell, Pacino thought, it was probably his security blanket.

Ready’ Jack

“Just get us the hell out of here, Cap’n.”

“Helm, right fifteen degrees rudder, steady course south, all ahead two thirds. Weps, pressurize all tubes and open all outer doors. Confirm targeting vectors to all Javelins and report status.”

“Aye, sir,” Feyley said.

“All tubes pressurized and equalized to sea pressure. All outer doors coming open now. Target vectors tubes one through seven confirmed, targets bearing one zero five to one one three, range fifty-two thousand yards. All time delays set for liftoff at time 1900 local, an hour-and-a-half from now. All outer doors now open. Ready to fire, Captain.”

“Very well,” Pacino said, glancing at the chronometer.

When it clicked over to 1735:00, he gave the next order: “Weps, shoot tube one.”

“Fire,” Feyley called. Down below the tube barked, the noise loud in the room.

“Tube one fired electrically, Captain.”

“Shoot tube two.”