Battlefield Korea

Ambushed

Commander Paul Jensen was on his last deployment with the Navy before he planned on retiring. This was his third deployment as the Captain of the USS Howard, and while he loved the Navy (and would probably be selected for Captain O-6) his wife and family were done with the long deployments and moving every three or four years. His kids were going to start high school soon, and his wife had told him in no uncertain terms that it was important for them to be able to settle down and stay in one place for a while. He knew she was right, and it would be best for the kids if he retired, but he loved the Navy; to be in command of a warship on the high seas was the most rewarding professional experience of his life. Still, he loved his family, so Jensen had determined that when he returned from this deployment, he was going to see if he could perhaps find a desk job that would allow him to spend four or more years on shore duty, until his kids could finish high school.

When the war in Europe broke out, Commander Jensen had seen this as an opportunity to serve his country one more time before retirement. When the 6^th Fleet had been sunk by the Russians during the opening hours of the war, he felt simultaneously glad that he had not been assigned to the Atlantic fleet, and also angry that so many of his colleagues had been killed and he would not get a chance to avenge their deaths. However, just as he thought his ship might end up sitting out the war, tensions escalated quickly on the Korean Peninsula. It looked like Jensen and his ship, the USS Howard, would get their chance to fight after all.

Just as Commander Jensen was gearing up for battle, orders came down from General Bennett and the 7^th Fleet Commander to change course. He received a FLASH message, which read, “All ships withdraw from the Yellow Sea immediately, and proceed to the Sea of Japan. Abort amphibious assault missions and move forwards with alternate battle plan B-11. Possible retaliation by the Chinese forces for attack at Shenyang eminent. Move at the maximum speed that can be maintained while continuing to sail in formation.”

Jensen had felt a huge let down after receiving this message, but he had changed course as ordered. It was still early in the morning, and Commander Jensen poured himself another cup of coffee from the hotplate in the Combat Information Center. As Commander Jensen lifted the hot liquid to his lips, he thought privately, “God, I just hope we live through the next week.”

The USS Howard had continued to screen the right rear flank of the 7^th Fleet as they moved out of the Yellow Sea; any action could not be ignored at this point. All of the radar operators were extremely tired after pulling extra shifts; Petty Officer Maria Ramirez rubbed her eyes briefly, and then looked back at the computer display she had been monitoring. Her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her-there was, in fact, contact. At first, her screen just showed one large Chinese aircraft. Her systems showed that it was an H-6, which meant it was a bomber, but it was alone, so that would mean that it was most likely a reconnaissance aircraft monitoring their fleet. Then, as the aircraft moved closer to them, a new group of contacts began to appear. Her eyes grew wide as saucers as she started to count them. She immediately raised her hand to get the attention of the watch officer.

“What have you got for us, Ramirez?” the watch officer asked as he approached her console.

“Sir, a mass of aircraft just came into our radar range,” she responded as she showed him her screen.

The watch officer’s eyes got a little wider and he became nervous at what this might be. He immediately told Ramirez, “Move your screen to the big board in the CIC, so everyone can see what we are seeing.”

As the display screen changed, Commander Jensen immediately put his coffee down and examined the big board. He counted more than 60 Xian H-6 bombers, along with several reconnaissance aircraft in the lead.

“This is not a drill,” he realized. “The Chinese are launching a raid against the battlegroup.”

He turned to his communications officer. “I’m sure the rest of the fleet is seeing this,” he said, “but send a FLASH message, alerting them of a possible raid.”

Commander Jensen got the attention of his XO. “Bring the ship to Condition One. Sound battle stations for probable air attack,” he ordered.

Nearly five minutes went by as the Chinese aircraft continued to move closer to the fleet. They were still outside of their engagement envelope, so they needed to wait for them to get a little nearer before they could attack them with their missiles. While the Chinese bombers continued to move closer to the fleet, the carriers’ combat air patrol was being vectored towards the bombers, and additional aircraft were being scrambled. It looked like Admiral Kinkaid was not waiting for the Chinese to fire a missile before he scrambled both carriers’ airwings.

Suddenly, the USS Howard detected that the lead reconnaissance aircraft had turned on their powerful search radars.

One of the electronic warfare officers yelled, “They are going to start targeting us and every other ship in the fleet! Start jamming the enemy signals, and prepare the ship’s defensive systems!”

Less than a minute after they were targeted, the first cruise missiles began to appear. At first it was just a handful, then the numbers steadily rose, until there were 120 anti-ship missiles headed towards the battlegroup. As if things couldn’t get worse, they received a FLASH message from NORAD letting them know they detected the launch of eighteen ballistic missiles. These were most likely the famed “carrier killer missiles,” judging by where they were launched from.

Captain Jensen immediately jumped out of his seat and began issuing orders. “Engage the incoming missiles with our SM-2s once they get in range. Start having our SM-6s engage their carrier-killer missiles immediately. We need to try and take them out while they are still in their first phase of launch,” he directed, hoping they might be able to get lucky and take a couple of them out.

Jensen grabbed the mic as he addressed his bridge crew. “Bridge, CIC. Move the ship to flank speed and have us start to tighten up our position with the rest of the fleet for defense.”

He could feel the power from the ship surge as the engines began to hit their peak capability, driving them closer to the rest of the fleet and what he hoped was mutual protection. Thirty-seconds later, the first of a series of SM-6 missile interceptors began to fire from their magazine towards the carrier-killer missiles. “Please Lord, let this work,” he prayed. “We can’t lose another carrier after the Bush.”

Minutes seemed to tick by as they stared at the big board, watching the cruise missiles bear down on the battlegroup. They were just about to enter their SM-2 engagement range; at that point, they would most likely empty their entire magazine in their attempt to swat the missiles from the sky. Though Commander Jensen knew it was coming, the sudden firing of their entire battery of missiles, one every second until all 67 missiles in the battery were exhausted, still startled him.

The sky above and around the battlegroup was starting to fill with missile interceptors as the other destroyers and cruisers began to add their own ordinance to the conflagration. The carriers’ airwings would soon be going after the cruise missiles as well. It was now a race to see how many missiles they could take out before the enemy started to score some hits.

The sea was a bit choppy as the USS Carl Vinson moved with the waves, causing Captain Michael Richards to work a little harder to balance his coffee a bit more than normal. He had just finished a cold cut sandwich the galley had brought up to the bridge crew when they received a FLASH message from one of the destroyers. He took the paper from the petty officer and quickly began to read it.

“So, they are finally coming for us eh? Well, we’ll make them pay for it,” Richards thought.

He immediately turned to his executive officer and said, “Sound general quarters for a probable air attack. Order the CAG to get his aircraft airborne and intercept those bombers. If the Chinese bombers fire off their cruise missiles before our fighters can intercept them, then have our fighters attempt to engage the missiles before they hit our air defense screen,” he ordered.

Following the destruction of the George H.W. Bush strike group in the Black Sea, the Navy implemented an immediate change in strategies to combat future potential missile swarm attacks. They removed nearly all the Tomahawk cruise missiles from the carriers’ destroyer escorts and replaced them with additional SM-2 missile interceptors. For the Pacific fleets, they also added SM-3 and SM-6 missiles to the destroyers, to counter the possibility of the Chinese or North Koreans using ballistic missiles. It looked like those decisions might just save the fleet.

“XO, you have the bridge. I’m heading down to CIC with the Admiral,” Captain Richards said.

The XO nodded and responded, “XO has the bridge, Sir.”

While the Captain was walking out, he saw a flurry of activity as everyone on the bridge continued to put on their helmets and flak vests.

Even after Richards had left the room, the crew on the bridge continued their preparations. The armored blinders were soon covering the bridge windows (they did not need to see to steer the ship, and this move would help ensure that flying shrapnel did not explode into the bridge, damaging equipment or injuring sailors). The carrier then turned slightly to angle itself into the wind, providing the alert fighters more lift during their take offs.

The roar of jet engines increased steadily until the air sounded like it was filled with a very loud rushing wind; multiple alert fighters went to afterburners, getting themselves airborne quickly. Dozens of crew members began to move the next set of fighters on the catapults, while others worked to bring additional aircraft to the flight deck from the hangers below. It was a mad fury of activity on the flight deck as the crews worked to get the carrier’s airwing into the air to intercept the enemy bombers, or at least the cruise missiles which they would certainly launch.

As Captain Richards moved from the bridge down into the gangway that would lead him to the CIC, he could see dozens of sailors running to-and-fro, heading to their various battle stations. Several of the sailors yelled, “Make a hole!” as he continued to walk past them on his way to the CIC.

When he walked into the CIC, he saw it was a buzz of activity. Admiral Lomas was on the radio, presumably talking with Vice Admiral Dan Kinkaid, the 7^th Fleet Commander, who was aboard the USS Blueridge, the command and control ship that was sailing at the center of the battlegroup, flanked by the Carl Vinson and the Reagan carriers.

“Captain! The Hawkeye’s are reporting the Chinese recon birds have activated their targeting search radars. We are being painted by them!” yelled one of the chief petty officers who had been manning one of the myriad of radar screens. A second later, the same petty officer announced to the group, “Vampires, Vampires, Vampires! We have missile launches from the bombers.”

Everyone in the CIC tensed up at the announcement, even though they had all expected it when they saw the formation of bombers.

“What type of missiles are they shooting at us?” demanded Admiral Lomas (who had concluded his call with the 7^th Fleet Commander).

“Sir, they appear to be YJ-12 ‘Eagle Strikes,’” responded the chief petty officer.

“Those are going to be incredibly hard to shoot down,” he thought, remembering that those missiles could reach speeds in excess of Mach 3.

Another radar operator, who had been monitoring the Chinese shoreline, yelled out, “Vampires, Vampires, Vampires! We have coastal missiles inbound from Yancheng and Qingdao!”

One of the battle managers quickly moved to the petty officer calling out the new threats. “How many missiles are we looking at?” he asked.

Many of the officers turned to hear what the petty officer would say in response. “The computer is still tallying…” he began. “There are 350 missiles coming in from the coastal area.”

At first, no one said anything, almost ignoring the fact that 350 additional missiles had been fired at the fleet; then they quickly went back to their collective tasks of vectoring missile interceptors, aircraft and other defensive systems towards the incoming threats.

Every few minutes, the men and women in the CIC could hear the roar of aircraft taking off from the flight deck above them. The CAG was working hard to get his aircraft airborne as quickly as possible. In addition to the fighters, they were scrambling several of the EA-18G Growlers. These were the Navy’s electronic warfare aircraft, and would be pivotal in defeating the incoming missiles. The fighters below decks were being equipped with additional AIM-9X Block II Sidewinder missiles, to assist in going after the incoming cruise missiles. It was a race against time to get enough missile interceptors and aircraft in the air to take those threats out before they started to hit the fleet.

Another petty officer manning one of communications terminals added to the growing noise level, shouting above everyone else, “Captain! We just received a FLASH message from NORAD. They just detected multiple ballistic missile launches emanating from China.”

The Admiral turned his head towards the petty officer, and before the captain had a chance, he asked, “Do we know what type of missiles those are?”

The room suddenly grew a little quieter as everyone waited for the petty officer to respond. “Yes, Sir. NORAD says they appear to be the Dong-Feng anti-ship ballistic missile.”

Everyone sat their stunned for a second, trying to figure out what to do next. These missiles were practically impossible to hit once they began their terminal attack. They could reach speeds of Mach 25 and dive straight down on their target as opposed to flying in an arching trajectory.

“They’ll have to be intercepted by a missile since the CIWS can’t turn vertical,” he realized.

One of the targeting officers picked up the phone receiver next to his terminal. He listened to the information being relayed to him and then hung up. He turned to face the Admiral and Captain, explaining, “Sir, I just received a message from the missile defense group in South Korea. The THAADs are starting to engage the ballistic missiles now.”

“Thank God we have the THAADs. I hope they can take them out before they hit any of our carriers,” thought Admiral Lomas.

“Have the ships in the fleet start to take evasive maneuvers once those ballistic missiles are less than five minutes away from impact. We need to make it as hard as possible for them to zero in on us,” the Admiral told one of the action officers, who rushed off to send the message out to the ship commanders.

The next ten minutes went by agonizingly slow as they watched the fleets SM-2s begin to intercept the incoming missiles. The number of threats was starting to thin out; only 197 of the original 470 missiles remained. Now it was time for the carriers’ airwings to start their attacks. The Hornets swooped in and began to fire off their barrage of AIM-9X Sidewinders. The heat-seeker missiles immediately went after the Chinese missiles, which were now maneuvering themselves to evade the new threat; the challenge was these new YJ-12 were incredibly fast, reaching speeds of more than Mach 3. The Sidewinders essentially had one chance to hit an enemy missile before they ran out of speed.

As the enemy missiles closed to within fifteen miles of the battlegroup, it was now time for the 5-inch guns and other close-in support systems to take over. By this time, the missiles had been thinned down again from 197 to 63, which was unfortunately far too many for the CIWS to destroy. The fleet was going to take some hits.

In minutes, the fleet’s CIWS began to spit out thousands of rounds, creating a wall of lead as the missiles began to zero in on nearly every ship in the fleet, including the Carl Vinson. While this was taking place, the THAADs had successfully intercepted 12 of the 18 anti-ship ballistic missiles; the SM-3s took out two more. That left four of them still heading towards the fleet, most likely towards the Carl Vinson and the Ronald Reagan.

The crew manning the CIC heard the familiar yet terrifying sound of fabric being torn; the carrier’s CIWS came to life as it spat out thousands of rounds to destroy the incoming missiles.

Suddenly, four nearly simultaneous explosions shook the ship violently. Alarm bells began to go off in the CIC, indicating the ship had taken damage in a number of areas. Then, two more blasts could be heard and felt; they had been hit again.

“Damage report now!” yelled the Captain to one of his officers manning the engineering monitors.

“Sir, it looks like we took one hit at the waterline on the port side. Crews are working to seal off the damaged corridors and decks. We took two more hits in the hanger deck, and one hit near the rear elevator. One of those last two impacts nailed the superstructure and the front elevator… it looks like the bridge is a total loss,” the damage control officer said in a shaky voice. The reality set in that many of their friends and colleagues who were working on the bridge several floors above them had just been killed.

“What is the status of those incoming ballistic missiles?” the Captain asked next.

“They are almost to us. Not sure if they are targeting us or not,” responded one of the radar operators. The crew nearby was nervous as they waited to see if the next missiles would hit them or not.

Admiral Lomas called out to one of the radar operators who was monitoring the incoming missiles, “How many missiles hit the battlegroup, and did we lose anyone?”

“Sir, it appears the battlegroup took around 63 missile hits. The fleet tracking system shows every ship in the fleet has been hit by at least one missile. It looks like three of the destroyers have been sunk, along with one of the Ticonderoga cruisers. The Reagan took six hits, but still appears to be functioning, and the Blueridge took four hits. She’s on fire, but they believe they can bring it under control.”

Everything was happening so fast, yet it felt like they were seeing everything in slow motion. Hundreds of sailors had just been killed or injured and there was little the Admiral could do to stop it. It saddened and angered him all at the same time.

“This must have been what Admiral Munch felt like when his carrier was sinking,” he thought.

As the crew of the Carl Vinson worked feverishly to get the damage and fires under control, they heard a thunderous boom. One of the ballistic missiles had plowed into the center of the USS Blueridge, the 7^th Fleet Command and Control ship. Crew members who were on the upper decks and had the ability to see the Blueridge saw a massive fireball expand upwards and outwards from the explosion. Then, the ship started to split in half as the hull broke apart from the numerous hits it had sustained. Within minutes, the vessel would slip beneath the waves with hundreds of crew members still aboard.

While the men and women were observing the destruction of the Blueridge, a roar came in from above. All of a sudden, the Carl Vinson shook violently, throwing most of the crew to the ground. One of the ballistic missiles had just landed near the front part of the carrier deck, just behind the catapults, throwing shrapnel across the deck and killing or seriously injuring several members of the deck crew with the flying shards of metal. The missile’s semi-armor piercing warhead, coupled with the kinetic energy of traveling at Mach 25, drove the missile through eight decks of the ship before it finally exploded its 1,100-pound warhead. Less than a second after the first ballistic missile hit the ship, a second one plowed into the Carl Vinson, hitting the rear half of the flight deck further back.

Captain Richards was thrown to the floor along with nearly every sailor who was not seated in the CIC when the ballistic missiles hit. The lights in the CIC briefly flickered out as sparks began to shoot out from several cable sections that had split open. A couple of large TV monitors crashed to the ground from the sudden jolt, adding their own crashing sound and additional sparks. A small fire started as some of the papers near one of the exposed wires lit up like the kindling it was. The CIC started to fill with smoke as fires began to spread.

As the emergency lights flicked on, Captain Richards placed his hands in front of his body and began to lift himself off the floor. He looked over and saw Admiral Lomas sitting in his chair; a dark red blotch began to grow across the front of his uniform. He staggered over to the Admiral and saw a small piece of metal had pierced his stomach, and blood was oozing around the wound.

“At least he’s unconscious,” thought Captain Richards. “He would be in a world of pain if he were awake.”

“Corpsman! I need a corpsman!” the Captain yelled to anyone in the room. A couple of sailors came over to him and saw the condition the admiral was in. He needed medical attention quickly.

“Sir, please step aside,” said a corpsman as he began to examine the admiral. After just a moment, he looked up at the Captain. “We need to get him down to medical. I need some people to help me carry him down.” He pointed to a couple of sailors and then directed them to get one of the medical stretchers.

The sailors carefully moved the Admiral from his chair and placed him on the stretcher, while the corpsman began to set up an IV. A young ensign led the way, yelling for people to make a hole for the admiral. Crew members who had been running throughout the corridor paused to let the stretcher with the admiral through.

Once the Admiral was carried out of the CIC, Captain Richards immediately turned his focus back to the emergency at hand. “Damage report! How badly have we been hit?” he demanded.

Before he got an answer, one of the chief petty officers grabbed the fire extinguisher from the wall mount and quickly put out a small fire that had started in the CIC. Then he opened a doorway leading to a hallway, to let the smoke escape the confines of the CIC.

The engineering officer was on the phone receiving an update when she covered the mouthpiece and turned towards the Captain. “Sir, it’s not good. It looks like the missiles punched through roughly eight decks before it exploded. We have fires spreading throughout the ship, and one of the fires is headed directly for the magazine room,” she responded with a grim face.

Another phone rang, this one at Richard’s station. He quickly picked it up. “This is the Captain, go ahead.”

“Sir, this is the lower deck damage control room. I’ve been trying to get through to CIC to give my report. I need to let you know that we are taking on a lot of water. We had several of the lower decks sealed that had been hit from the cruise missiles, but that last missile that hit us busted open several new areas. We are trying to control the flooding right now, but I need your permission to seal off the lower two decks of the ship if we are going to save her,” the officer said, almost pleading for someone to give him orders on what to do.

“How many men are still down in the lower decks, Lieutenant?” demanded the Captain. He wasn’t about to seal them off until he knew all his people were out of there.

“I don’t know Captain. A lot of those decks are flooded. It could be a handful, it could be a couple dozen. If we do not seal them off now though, the water is going to make its way to the decks above them, and if the flooding makes it to deck three, we are toast. That would expose half the ship to flooding, with no way to seal it off,” he replied.

Richards stood there for a second, trying to think. This was a nightmare scenario.

“What if I still have sailors down there, desperately trying to get out?” he worried.

He knew he had to save the ship though. “Seal the lower decks, Lieutenant,” he ordered. “Do what you need to do to save the ship. Keep us apprised of what you are doing.” Then he hung up the phone.

He quickly waved his senior engineering officer over and explained what had just transpired. Seeing that there was nothing left he could do in CIC, Captain Richards left and began to walk to the flight deck to survey the damage and see how he could help. He wanted to see the damage to his carrier and the rest of the battlegroup for himself, and he couldn’t do that while bottled up in the CIC. As he was on his way out, he saw several stretchers coming in from the flight deck. He ran over and helped hold the door open, so another sailor could assist in carrying the wounded sailors to medical. Then he proceeded out onto the flight deck.

What he saw was sickening. There was a huge hole in the center of the flight deck, just behind the catapults, and several demolished aircraft nearby. Turning, he looked aft and saw a second gaping hole with flames and thick black smoke rising from the cauldron of death that had been created by the enemy missile. As the captain surveyed the damage, he saw dozens upon dozens of brave sailors manning fire hoses, trying to put the massive flames out.

There were also bodies everywhere. Some sailors were missing legs or arms. People all over the place were crying out for help, begging for their loved ones as they wailed in agonizing pain. Some of them obviously knew they were in the process of dying. Richards walked over to a young sailor, who was trying to apply pressure on the chest of a fellow seaman who had a terrible gash. He saw the young woman crying as she desperately tried to stop the blood soaking through the bandage she had applied. Then he saw that she had also been injured as well. She had a small gash on her forehead that was bleeding badly, and was cradling one of her arms like she had broken it.

He knelt next to her and pulled out a bandage from an aid bag she had sitting next to her, and began to apply additional pressure on the wound of the man on the ground.

Captain Richards told her, “I’ll take over with him until a corpsman can help. Go ahead and get a bandage on your forehead.”

He yelled out to a couple of corpsmen who had just run out to the flight deck, getting their attention. When they saw it was the captain hailing them, they quickly ran to him. He directed them to take care of the sailor with the chest wound and told the young woman to follow them down to medical and get her arm taken care of.

Then Captain Richards got up and made his way to the edge of the flight deck, so he could survey the rest of the fleet around them. He looked off to the right and saw that the USS Reagan must have been hit by multiple ballistic missiles; nearly the entire flight deck appeared to be in flames and the ship looked to be dead in the water. Everywhere he looked, ships were on fire, billowing thick black smoke into the air. Many of the ships were dead in the water, while others still managed somehow to keep themselves moving.

Captain Richards turned around to examine his own ship. The superstructure where the bridge had once been was now a twisted metal hulk with flames licking around the few undamaged parts.

“We’ve lost the 7^th Fleet,” Richards realized. “We’ve lost the Reagan and I may still end up losing the Vinson…”

Following the Chinese attack, the carrier Carl Vinson, along with four destroyers and one cruiser, were able to limp away to the protection of the Japanese Navy. While the Carl Vinson survived, the damage to the flight deck, hangers and superstructure would require months, if not years to repair. The Reagan, along with three Ticonderoga cruisers and fourteen Arleigh Burke destroyers were sunk, along with the Blueridge. The 7^th Fleet Commander, along with 13,200 other sailors, lost their lives, and another 7,000 more were injured. This was a crippling blow to the US, and would leave Japan vulnerable to the Chinese Navy until additional naval assets reached Japan.