Attack of the Seawolf

“Standby. And Chief of the Watch, get a man up to the bridge and tell Turner that as soon as we accelerate to shut the hatch and get below, fast. We’ll be submerging immediately. Prepare to dive.”

On the bridge Lieutenant Tim Turner stood beside the open hatch of the bridge trunk, being careful not to fall the twenty-five feet down to the deck. The clamshells were open, allowing him to stand up and look out. Turner looked around at the moonlit bay, sniffing the salty air that smelled oddly bad after being submerged with their canned stink for so long. The evening was pleasant, the sea and the moon beautiful. But Turner had no thoughts of beauty, no ability to sense anything other than the urgency of the coming battle.

He looked to the east at the approaching destroyers and began to wave the white flag, even though he knew the ships were still too far away to see him.

“Approaching Chinese destroyers, this is U.S. Navy submarine Seawolf. I say again, approaching Chinese destroyers, this is U.S. Navy submarine Seawolf. We surrender. We are standing by for you to come alongside.

I say again, we are standing by for you to come alongside, over.”

The ships were headed directly for them, picking up speed. Turner waved the white sheet and made the surrender call again, continuing to transmit and wave the flag for the next ten minutes, all the while expecting to see more missiles or torpedoes or aircraft with depth charges. But all he saw were the surface ships approaching the ship, the destroyers purposeful and steady. Finally his VHF ship-to-ship radio crackled with a Chinese accent:

“AMERICAN SUB SEAWOLF STANDBY FOR US TO COME ALONGSIDE AND BOARD YOUR VESSEL.”

Turner had no idea what Captain Pacino was planning.

It was time for blind faith.

WASHINGTON, D.C. WHITE HOUSE

Secretary of Defense Ferguson leaned over the table, his face intense and flushed.

“Mr. President, I want an order to launch aircraft to rescue the Tampa and I want that order now. I’m sorry to be blunt but—” A Marine colonel came in at that moment.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but we just got a message from CINCPAC aboard the Reagan. The Seawolf has surfaced in the Bohai Haixia Strait, and she’s transmitting a message to the Chinese fleet that she’s surrendering …”

Ferguson reacted first.

“What’s the Chinese fleet doing?”

“CINCPAC says they’re approaching to take her alive. They’re coming alongside.”

Ferguson looked to President Dawson.

“Sir, that’s it. Now we’ll lose the Seawolf, the most advanced submarine in the world. And her crew can enjoy Chinese hospitality, until they’re dead—” “Ferguson, enough,” Dawson snapped.

“Launch the damned aircraft. You have twelve hours and unlimited weapons release authorized. You get that submarine back, understand?”

“Yesw,” Ferguson said, hurrying to the radio console, where he hoisted the handset to his ear, waiting for Donchez’s voice to come through the connection. bohai haixia strait

Chu felt like spitting into his oxygen mask.

“I don’t believe it,” he said to Lo. The commander of the Udaloy destroyer Zunyi had ordered all aircraft to stay outside of a one-kilometer radius of the American submarine, declaring that the sub had surrendered and that they were going to take it captive.

“Don’t they see it’s a trick?”

“Maybe it isn’t.”

“Just keep us armed and your eyes on that submarine.”

USS SEAWOLF

Pacino looked out the periscope at the approaching destroyers. The closest was the Udaloy, now at six hundred yards bearing zero nine five. The Luda was at bearing one zero five, only eight hundred yards away. That was about as close as he intended them to get.

“Chief, tell Turner to get ready to come down, but tell him to keep waving that white flag until the torpedo detonates.”

“Yes sir.”

“Firing point procedures, tube eight. Target fourteen,” Pacino called, his periscope crosshairs on the approaching Udaloy.

“Ship ready, solution ready,” Keebes said.

“Weapon ready,” Feyley said.

“Shoot!”

“Fire!” Feyley said, pulling the trigger.

The tube fired, the pressure slamming Pacino’s ears.

He watched the Udaloy, waiting.

Finally a brilliant orange-and-white-and-black fireball bloomed from the port side of the destroyer’s superstructure. Pacino turned the crosshairs to the Luda, seeing its bearing, now one zero six degrees, then lowering the scope.

“All ahead flank, steer course one zero six!”

Only then did the sound of the explosion reverberate through the hull, the violent sound of a warship dying.

“Ahead flank aye, one zero six, maneuvering answers all ahead flank, steering course one zero six, sir,” the helmsman replied.

“Sir, you’re headed straight for the Luda—” “Chief of the Watch, tell Turner to get below! Diving Officer, submerge the ship to nine zero feet!”