SSN

9. The Fourth Patrol: From Russia with Love

The third patrol area was quiet. Cheyenne detected no submarines during her short duration patrol. Which was good, Mack thought. It gave his officers and crew the opportunity to catch up on their paperwork. More important, the respite allowed the newest crew members to finally complete their submarine qualification check-outs with the designated subsystem experts.

Before reaching that stage, each enlisted man had to complete certain at sea and in port watch-stander qualifications required by his department — engineering, weapons, or operations. Qualification boards for the enlisted were held in the “goat locker,” the chief petty officer (CPO) lounge, mess area, and bunk room, all rolled into one small, but cozy space.

These qualification boards were run by several of Cheyenne’s senior personnel. The top two were the chief of the boat (COB), who was also the master chief petty officer of the command, and Cheyenne’s qualification officer, the combat systems officer. The qualification officer was responsible to the executive officer, in the executive officer’s role as the ship’s training officer, for ensuring the timely submarine qualification of each and every enlisted man. The rest of the qualification boards were made up of selected qualification petty officers, the designated subsystem experts, and the individual candidate’s leading petty officer and division officer.

Once this board made its recommendation to the executive officer, Mack was always quick to hold a ceremony in the crew’s mess. He enjoyed pinning the coveted silver dolphins on each sailor’s uniform, conferring the right for the crewman to add “SS” to his official title.

Officer qualification in submarines included qualification as engineering officer of the watch (EOOW) and officer of the deck, as well as the in port engineering duty officer (EDO) and ship’s duty officer responsibilities. These required the captain’s certification, as did other senior enlisted watch stations.

Other officer qualifications included candidates for engineer officer of a nuclear-powered ship. Completion of this was generally put on hold during wars because the candidate officer was unable to return to Washington, D.C., to be interviewed by the head of Navy Nuclear Propulsion, NAVSEA 08.

For the officers, the same qualification petty officers checked out the candidates, as did the responsible department heads. Once the senior watch officer and the navigator, who was Cheyenne’s third senior officer, made their recommendation to the executive officer and captain, a qualification board was held in the wardroom.

The reward for these officer qualifications were the much rarer and even more coveted gold dolphins, which designated the officer as “submarine warfare qualified.” After Cheyenne’s most recent war patrols, Mack felt that all her hands had earned this designation, and he was pleased that they had gotten the chance to catch up on this.

In addition to catching up on paperwork and officer qualifications, the respite also gave Mack the chance to have his junior officers practice their surfacing and diving of the submarine. But Mack didn’t let that go too far. This was war, after all, and there was always the chance that some of those pesky Chinese Kilo SSKs were lurking about, so he instructed his junior officers to only simulate blowing the main ballast tanks. That restriction kept Cheyenne safe, and it didn’t affect the quality of their practice at all.

Mack wasn’t worried about their knowledge. He knew that they had learned, at least on a theoretical level, how to handle the boat. All the officers on Cheyenne were nuclear trained — training which had required all officers to complete Nuclear Power School in Orlando, Florida, along with training at one of the reactor prototypes, either in West Milton, New York; Arco, Idaho; or Windsor, Connecticut. This training had taken a year to complete, and it was so intense that they’d had to memorize volumes of information that, when stacked on top of each other, easily reached over six feet high. And it didn’t end there. It was followed by a stint at the Naval Submarine School in Groton, Connecticut.

This was all before they ever got to their first submarine. Once on board, they had new reactor and propulsion plant manuals to study, supplemented by ship’s information books, weapons manuals, and at least twenty more documents related to operations against what was now the enemy.

After all this, Mack wasn’t worried about what they knew, but they needed practice and experience to go with all that book knowledge. It was the procedural steps and the feel of the ship under their feet that the JOODs needed to learn well enough so that they could surface and dive the ship in their sleep. And even more important, they needed to learn how to think on their feet, in case the unusual were to happen, which might not be covered in books.

Cheyenne’s junior officers weren’t the only ones boning up for qualification boards, either. Her executive officer was shooting for the “qualified for command” designation — but he didn’t know that Mack had recommended him to CTF 74 prior to their last underway. His first hint that he’d better ready himself for the qual-for-command board was a message stating that their commodore, Commander Submarine Squadron Eleven (CSS 11) in San Diego, would be on board Arco, the floating repair dock, medium (ARDM-5).

Upon receiving that message, the executive officer initially expected that the board would consist of CTF 74, his CSS 11 commodore, and the captain of McKee. That expectation changed, however, when Cheyenne received an operations directive routing them to Subic Bay instead of the safe anchorage off Brunei, where they had originally expected McKee and Arco to be located. Based on the rest of the message traffic, the executive officer wasn’t sure there would be time for his qual board.

Message traffic indicated that IUSS (Integrated Undersea Surveillance System) had sniffs of a number of the newest operational class of Russian SSNs, the Akula II, heading south from the Sea of Okhotsk area toward the South China Sea — and the numbers did not match naval intelligence’s initial expectations. Satellite imagery of Vladivostok showed three submarines missing, and data from Petropavlosk added another missing sub, for a total of four, but IUSS was picking up seven different Akula class SSNs.

New data, however, showed three more missing from the Russian base in the Kola Peninsula. Naval intelligence had been concentrating on the Pacific theater and had missed the departure of the North Fleet Akula II SSNs the week before. These Akulas had completed an under-ice transfer through the Bering Straits before they were detected in the Bering Sea, and had rendezvoused with the PACFLT Akulas east of the Kurile Islands.

According to the message traffic, Arco was being diverted to Subic Bay for safety. Had she stuck to her original orders, she would have made a long transit at sea protected only by Cheyenne, and the risk of being overwhelmed by the sheer number of Akulas was simply too great.

On a similar note, in order to avoid a repeat of the Chinese Kilo SSK attacks on McKee that Cheyenne had fought off after returning from the first patrol, the submarine tender was now en route to the safety of Subic Bay via the Philippine Sea. She was scheduled to arrive the day before Cheyenne.

Sino-Soviet trade relations were obviously booming, Captain Mackey realized as he read the message traffic. The Russian president, Gennadi Zyuganov, was allowing his navy to supply the Chinese with the Akula IIs. That was bad enough. Worse, though, was the fact that these sales were being consummated so quickly that China could not crew the SSNs, and Russia had wholeheartedly agreed to supply Russian “observers.” These observers had turned out to be nearly the entire crew. The only real exceptions were some Chinese interpreters for their Chinese message traffic.

The Russian president had, of course, initially denied these sales at all. Then, when the crewing reports surfaced through the CIA, he tried to use the “observer” gambit. The United States had recognized this for what it was — a feeble attempt for Russia to avoid its own war with the United States — and Mack couldn’t help wondering how his own government would respond to this.

But for now, at least, he didn’t have to worry about it. All he had to do was to carry out his orders and to execute the missions he was tasked with.

Several days later, as Cheyenne “steamed” past Grande Island inbound to the Subic Bay complex, Mack was saddened at the sight of the once-proud base. The buildings and guest cottages were run down and dilapidated, and even the swimming pool was empty and cracking.

It was clear that nothing had been done to take care of the Grande Island after the departure of the United States five years before. Mack expected that the same would be true of the airfield at what was once the Cubi Point Naval Air Station. That airfield had once been busy bringing in supplies as well as being the launch and recovery field for carrier-based aircraft leaving and returning to Subic Bay.

When Cheyenne rounded the point of the airfield and headed for the gaping jaws of the now-flooded-down Arco, Mack saw how right his guess had been. At the sight of jungle growth overrunning the Cubi Point Officers’ Club, Mack felt a wave of nostalgia and regret wash over him, and he was glad that Cheyenne had only two days in the Philippines to reload and resupply.

Since the refit crew was on board McKee, which was still in transit to Subic Bay, Mack and the executive officer had informed Cheyenne’s crew that they would remain on board, for sleeping and security purposes, until the tender arrived. Seeing the devastation that had occurred since the United States left the Philippines, Mack could see that he had made a wise decision. The CPO and enlisted barracks, as well as the Submarine Sanctuary (where the officers used to partake of rest and recreation), had been looted and destroyed by vandals.

Captain Mackey had also informed the engineer officer and auxiliary division officer — who also was the SUBSAFE (submarine safety) officer — that Cheyenne would take the opportunity to complete some of the SUBSAFE maintenance requirement card (MRC) inspections. With the ongoing war against the Chinese, these inspections, which could only be completed while in drydock, were in danger of becoming overdue. Taking care of it now, with the drydock capabilities that Arco offered, would ensure that Cheyenne’s SUBSAFE certification remained in force and they would have no restrictions in depth during upcoming operations.

Maintaining certification during a war was not just a perfunctory administrative paper drill. It was extremely important. The certification meant that the home which protected the men of Cheyenne from the perils of the sea was satisfactory for keeping water out of the “people locker.”

The SUBSAFE criteria, which began in Cheyenne’s new construction period and continued for the life of the ship, included the capability of various important components to withstand underwater explosive shock without endangering the lives of the crew. Integrity of these components was paramount if the crew was to survive the rigors of enemy attacks and reach the surface safely.

Mack planned to avoid that situation, of course, but with the reports of seven Akula II SSNs en route to the South China Sea, he knew Cheyenne would have her work cut out for her. And so did her well-informed crew, who set about their inspection duties as soon as the drydock was pumped down.

The late arrival of McKee meant that Cheyenne would have only one day to reload the vertical-launch tubes with Tomahawk missiles and the torpedo room with Mk 48s. Arco had no capability to reload SSN weapons, other than small-arms ammunition. So far, Cheyenne had not had to resort to that limited method of warfare, and Mack didn’t intend to need them in the near future, either.

Arco, like all the floating drydocks in the fleet, did not have a formal commanding officer. Drydocks, which were not commissioned as United States ships and so did not receive the “USS” designation, had officers-in-charge instead.

In talking with Arco’s officer-in-charge, Mack learned that Arco had managed to off-load some Navy Construction Battalion equipment and a small contingent of Seabees at a pleasure boat launch ramp near the Cubi airfields. That would have been very good news if they were on a longer timetable. As it was, repair of the runways would probably be too late for Cheyenne to count on any air support in her upcoming missions. Besides, Mack thought, deciding to forget about having to coordinate operations with aircraft, even if the Seabees got the runways repaired, it wouldn’t do much good. The supporting infrastructure that had once been at the airfield, as well as the air-traffic controllers and radars, had been spread to other airfields around the world.

Which was fine with Mack. This was a submarine war; it was Cheyenne’s submarine war. He did appreciate, however, that Arco had brought a replacement screw for Cheyenne. She didn’t need it yet, but there was always the outside chance that Chinese torpedo shrapnel would get close enough to cause damage to the screw. The “singing” screw that could develop from that would limit Cheyenne’s speed, and that was worse than a SUBSAFE depth restriction to one-half test depth. Singing screws were a condition that could not be tolerated even in peacetime.

Arco also had brought the “ship’s key,” the huge wrench needed to remove and replace the screw’s hub nut.

The following morning, McKee arrived in Subic Bay under the cover of darkness. She didn’t moor at the sea wall, but instead moored outboard of Arco at the SRF (ship repair facility) just down the street from the old Naval Forces headquarters building. Mack knew that the captain of McKee would consider moving his ship after Cheyenne’s departure, and after his men were able to assess the safety of the previously normal berth for large ships like McKee. Those berths had been unattended for nearly five years, and he would want to be sure of the sea wall’s status, including the mooring bollards, before he felt comfortable enough to moor there for the duration of the war.

There was another good reason for that choice. As Mack knew, the sea wall was located across the relatively narrow channel from the aircraft carrier mooring at Cubi Point, and tending submarines there had never been done before. In the old days, when the United States was maintaining and operating this base, submarine upkeeps always had been conducted within the SRF gates both for security purposes and because it was near the SRF shops and weapons-storage areas.

At daylight, McKee slacked its mooring lines to Arco for the flooding down of the drydock and the “dead stick” move of Cheyenne to outboard of McKee. For safety reasons, the two captains agreed not to load weapons while Cheyenne was still inside the drydock.

When the drydock was flooded and seawater systems were once again flooded and vented of any entrapped air, Cheyenne received the word “prepare to snorkel” and passed it along, internally, over the 1MC. With no current to contend with, this move went smoothly and safely. Cheyenne’s diesel generator provided power to the emergency propulsion motor (EPM) and to the ship’s vital electrical loads, which remained energized during “rig ship for reduced electrical power.” Had this been done in San Diego, without Cheyenne’s reactor power and steam in the engineering spaces, it would have required at least one tug, and maybe two if Cheyenne had needed to make the move at other than slack tide.

When Cheyenne was positioned properly, the combat systems officer, engineer officer, and their other division officers remained on board Cheyenne to take care of the weapons loading and reactor start-up preparations. Captain Mackey, along with his executive officer, operations officer, and navigator, proceeded to McKee’s war room for their pre-underway briefing.

There was a new face at this meeting: the CSS 11 commodore was present — which, Mack knew, could mean major changes, or it could mean nothing. Either way, he’d know soon enough.

Once the formalities were out of the way, the briefing officer again took control of the meeting. He informed Mack and the other officers of Cheyenne that, with McKee no longer requiring air protection from the Carrier Battle Group, CINCPACFLT had decided to move Independence and his other surface forces to an area west of the Spratly Islands. USCINCPAC, with JCS approval, had concurred. Which meant that there would be a change in the location of Cheyenne’s next patrol.

Mack’s earlier orders had been to patrol south of the islands, but those orders were no longer valid. His new orders were for Cheyenne to transit to a patrol area located about four hundred nautical miles to the north — deep waters with which Cheyenne was now familiar. However, the briefing officer went on, if the inbound Akulas were detected heading for the Paracels, Cheyenne was expected to cut them off before the three Akulas from the North Fleet could resupply.

Captain Mackey, his executive officer, and Cheyenne’s navigator all knew that this would introduce additional hazards to their mission. At the very least, they would have to contend with the neutral shipping and the oil rigs situated off the northern slopes of the Macclesfield Bank. Cheyenne had managed to avoid those problems during the last patrol by staying south of the banks, but that was no longer an option.

After relaying that information, the briefing officer brought up some older intel, emphasizing the information contained in Cheyenne’s latest message traffic. In particular, he reminded them that the Akulas were not manned by inexperienced Chinese crews, but had come complete with their normal Russian crews. experienced with their own submarines. And, the briefing officer continued, since the protests from Washington were falling on deaf ears in Russia, Cheyenne was being tasked as an instrument of diplomacy: sink the Akulas and Russia would probably stop supplying assets, ships, and men to the Chinese.

Mack spoke up at that. With the dwindling supply of torpedoes aboard McKee, the tender was practically rationing them. For this loadout, Cheyenne was receiving only twenty Mk 48s, and while he understood the rationale for it, that amount was far short of a full complement, and not enough to go against all seven Akulas.

CTF 74 agreed, but he did not authorize more torpedoes for Cheyenne. Instead, he said that if she sank four of the seven Akulas, they would be successful. Losing four new submarines and nearly four hundred of Russia’s best submariners, CTF 74 said, might just fulfill Washington’s diplomatic needs nicely.

Mack was disappointed. He’d been hoping for a more complete load-out. After all, the Seabees were already at work. Resurfacing the runway at Cubi Point would solve the weapons-reload problem and remove the need for rationing. In the long run, of course, it would do more than that. In the long run, it would solve the whole base resurrection problem.

Before the briefing was terminated, the executive officer asked about “RuLings” (Russian linguists). The briefing officer replied that the NSG (naval security group) in Yokosuka had provided two RuLings to supplement the “ChiLings” (Chinese linguists) currently with the NSG detachment aboard Cheyenne. They were brought to Subic Bay by Arco. With “hot bunking” the rule for 688s, they were prepared to hot-bunk with their counterparts.

As the briefing came to an end, the executive officer’s moment arrived. He was preparing to follow Mack and the other officers back to Cheyenne when the CSS 11 commodore stopped him and told him that it was time for his qual for command board.

This was even better than the executive officer hoped. He was prepared, and he felt he was qualified, but he hadn’t been looking forward to a long and difficult board. And with Cheyenne already stationing the maneuvering watch in preparation for getting under way, there simply wasn’t time for an extended board.

The board turned out to be even shorter than he’d dreamed. It consisted of the commodore relaying a message from the chief of naval personnel designating him “qualified for command.” The executive officer hadn’t known it, but Cheyenne’s successes and the respect that Washington had for her captain had allowed the chain of command to take a few shortcuts in protocol. The commodore could have placed this on the earlier broadcast, but he hadn’t because he had wanted to surprise the executive officer.

This didn’t mean that the executive officer was ready to leave Cheyenne for a command of his own. They needed to finish this war with China first so that he could start the command schooling route — which was one protocol that would not be circumvented.

Cheyenne got under way in a rainsquall. The weather had little effect on the SSN other than limiting visibility during her surface transit to the dive point west of the eighty-five-degree water of Subic Bay. Cheyenne’s navigation radar had been tweaked and peaked by the navigation ETs in order to handle this event — providing that no Chinese warships were around to detect the radar’s emissions.

Mindful of the danger, Mack decided to limit the power on the navigation radar, keeping it to only what was needed to detect the nearby landmasses. That meant that Cheyenne would have to rely on ESM to detect any incoming surface ship radars. Mack was counting on the fact that Subic Bay had become a ghost town, with almost no traffic in and out.

Subic Bay, it seemed, was about the only place in the area that had little traffic. During dinner that night, as his officers ate quickly, Mack said to them, “We once again have our work cut out for us. With that many quiet Akulas staring us in the face, we’ll need to be innovative in our attacks. We may have to learn how to flush them out. And we won’t have much chance to rest before it’s time to man battle stations.”

He was right. Sonar had already reported weak tonals from an Akula to the north. As Mack arrived at the conn after dinner, the section fire control tracking party announced that the initial rough range had been established as 75,000 yards. Mack acknowledged the report and ordered the OOD to man battle stations torpedo.

There was still no sign of the rest of the Russian submarines. Just the one set of low frequency tonals, most likely from an Akula — one with sound shorts to its turbine generator.

The captain passed the order for the torpedo room to “Make tubes one and two ready in all respects, including opening the outer doors.” It was Cheyenne’s routine to make the tubes ready as early as possible and as far from the enemy submarine as possible, but it was even more important when facing the quiet Akulas.

The Akula class carried its own towed arrays. Intel had not been able to learn much about its sensor capability, so Mack had to make his own assumptions about it. He had already decided to play it safe and assume that it was equivalent to at least a TB-16 array and a BQQ-5A sonar capability, the first of the U.S. submarine force digital sonar systems.

The acknowledgment of his order came quickly over the sound powered phone. “Make tubes one and two ready in all respects, including opening the outer doors, fire control, torpedo room, aye.”

Confirmation followed moments later, and the executive officer informed the captain that the ordered evolution with the torpedo tubes had been completed. “Captain, tubes one and two are ready in all respects. Both outer doors are open.”

“Very well, fire control,” Mack replied.

Cheyenne had faced a number of foes already, and in some of the encounters she’d gotten lucky. This wasn’t one of those times.

The Akula was tracking to the west, which put its towed array in a more optimal position for detection than Cheyenne, whose array was trained optimally only when they zigged and zagged while approaching the Akula. Cheyenne was closing the range, intending to intercept with a fire-control solution before the Akula could reach the banks, where it would be acoustically shielded. Mack knew that the other Akulas had to be out there as well, but Cheyenne could not detect them. They remained silent, deadly holes in the ocean.

The Akula continued drawing left as Cheyenne closed. It was still showing up only as sonar tonals, with no contact from the spherical or conformal arrays. But that was enough.

The TB-23 inputs to the three BSY-1 computer consoles, augmented by Cheyenne’s course changes, made the solution possible for the fire-control party. When the BSY-1 operator and the fire-control coordinator were satisfied with the TMA (target-motion analysis) solution on Master 74, the Russian Akula II SSN, the captain ordered, “Firing point procedures, Master 74.”

The combat systems officer reported the target course as 270, speed eight, and range 22,500 yards.

“Sonar, conn, stand by,” Mack ordered.

“Conn, sonar, standing by.”

“Match sonar bearings and shoot, tubes one and two.”

“Match sonar bearings and shoot, tubes one and two, aye.”

There was a brief pause and then the combat systems officer said, “Tubes one and two fired electrically.”

“Conn, sonar, units from tubes one and two running hot, straight, and normal,” the sonar supervisor reported as the two torpedoes executed their wire-clearance maneuvers and accelerated to slow speed for the long inbound run.

“Sonar, conn, aye,” Mack replied.

At dinner earlier, he had told his officers they might have to be innovative against the Akulas. He hadn’t forgotten. “Take charge and steer the weapons,” he said. “Unit one off course thirty degrees to the right and unit two off course thirty degrees to the left.”

The fire-control party immediately knew what Mack had in mind, and they loved it. When the torpedoes were close enough for passive acquisition, they would be steered back in the opposite direction. Upon acquisition, the incoming torpedoes would make it appear that they had come from two separate U.S. submarines, lurking to the west and the east, instead of only Cheyenne closing from the south.

“Time to turn the units?” Mack asked.

“Twenty-three minutes, forty-five seconds, Captain,” the combat systems officer replied.

The torpedoes were turned on cue, bearing down on the Akula. To increase their chances, one torpedo led the target while the other lagged slightly behind.

“Time to acquisition?” Mack asked the combat systems officer.

“Nine minutes, Captain.”

That was his best guess, and it was wrong. Only five minutes had elapsed when the combat systems officer announced, “Unit two has acquired.” A moment later he added, “Unit one has acquired, but it’s not Master 74.”

That could mean only one thing: the torpedoes had each detected a different Akula — the one they had first targeted and a bonus. Mack didn’t have time to celebrate. “Cut the wires, shut the outer doors, and reload tubes one and two,” he ordered.

The silent ocean didn’t stay silent for long. “Conn, sonar,” the sonar supervisor said with tension in his voice, “we have two torpedoes in the water, bearings 350 and 010.”

Mack smiled to himself as he heard the bearings. The Russian CO had launched snapshots at the bearings of the incoming torpedoes, but Mack’s ploy had worked. The Russian torpedoes were not headed for Cheyenne.

“Conn, sonar, the hornets’ nest is emptying.” Six new contacts on the spherical array as well as Master 74 indicated that the Akulas were running for it. But they were also turning to the south to avoid the easterly and westerly bearings of the invading Mk 48s. Spherical-array depression-angle changes indicated they were also coming down to Cheyenne’s depth zone.

“All ahead flank. Do not cavitate. Make your depth one thousand feet,” Mack ordered.

Cheyenne was already deep beneath the second layer, so it took less than a minute for her to reach flank speed, on course due north, and at one thousand feet. The nearly zero bearing rate she presented to the Russians meant that Cheyenne would give them a taste — if they detected her — of the Chinese kamikaze runs weeks earlier. But Mack didn’t think they’d detect her, even at flank speed and deep. The range was too great, and the Akulas were running too fast for a TB-16 and BQQ-5-equivalent sensor suited to detect any but the closest targets.

“Conn, sonar, two explosions, bearings 359 and 002, range hard to discern, estimate 18 to 20,000 yards.”

Mack picked up the OOD’s JA sound-powered phone and spoke to the officers and men of Cheyenne through the compartment phone talkers: “This is the captain. Gentlemen, Cheyenne has won again. Excellent work. We still have a number of Russian SSNs out there, and they aren’t too happy.” Hanging up the phone, he turned to the chief of the watch and said, “Chief of the watch, stand down but do not secure from battle stations.”

Even as he gave the order, though, Mack knew that the stand-down from the tension could easily be short lived, especially if the remaining Akulas continued heading to the south.

“Conn, sonar, we have multiple underwater telephone contacts bearing 355 to 005.” The Akulas had slowed and were conducting range checks with each other. This was exactly why they’d brought the RuLings aboard, to help with range inputs to the BSY-1 by translating the ranges being passed between the remaining five Akulas.

Captain Mackey ordered the towed array housed. They wouldn’t need it during the short-range tracking currently in progress.

When that order had been acknowledged and confirmed, he turned his attention on the remaining Akulas. “Torpedo room, fire control, make tubes three and four ready in all respects, including opening the outer doors.”

“Make tubes three and four ready in all respects, including opening the outer doors, fire control, torpedo room, aye.”

Even in the aftermath of their latest kills, the officers and crew of Cheyenne maintained their crisp, efficient, and professional performance.

As soon as the torpedo room reported completing the ordered evolution with the torpedo tubes, the executive officer relayed the information to Captain Mackey. “Captain, tubes three and four are ready in all respects. Both outer doors are open.”

“Very well, fire control,” he replied.

Only two of the five Akulas were being tracked, but Cheyenne now had contact on all her sonar arrays. When the BSY-1 operator and the fire-control coordinator were satisfied with the TMA solution on Masters 76 and 80, Mack gave the command, “Firing point procedures, Master 76, tube three and Master 80, tube four.”

As before, the combat systems officer at the BSY-1 reported the course, speed, and range of the two targets.

“Sonar, conn, stand by.”

“Conn, sonar, standing by.”

“Match sonar bearings and shoot, tubes three and four.”

“Match sonar bearings and shoot, tubes three and four, aye.”

“Tubes three and four fired electrically,” reported the combat systems officer.

“Conn, sonar, units from tubes three and four running hot, straight, and normal,” the sonar supervisor reported as the two torpedoes executed their wire-clearance maneuvers.

Unlike the torpedoes Cheyenne had fired at the first Akula, these were set to run at slow speed until acquisition. Once they had acquired, they would increase their speed and head up from their deep search depth. When they breached the layer, the torpedoes would pitch up and complete their acceleration to attack speed.

“Sonar, conn, aye,” responded the captain. “Time to acquisition?”

“Fourteen minutes, fifteen seconds, Captain,” answered the combat systems officer.

By now, Mack had learned that a minute never lasted so long as when you were waiting for torpedoes to acquire the enemy — unless, of course, you were waiting for an enemy torpedo to acquire you.

“Both units have acquired.”

“Conn, sonar, Masters 76 and 80 are increasing speed, cavitating heavily.”

Sonar reported noisemakers launched by the two Akulas. Mack responded by ordering “steer the weapons.” In order to do this, Cheyenne needed to change her course to the left by ninety degrees so that the bearings to the incoming Akula would diverge from the bearings to the stationary noisemakers.

As soon as the course change was completed, sonar detected the other three Akulas. They were to the northwest of the ones being attacked and were heading for the Paracels.

When a bearing spread was obtained, the combat systems officer reported the torpedoes on course for intercept.

“Cut the wires, shut the outer doors, and reload tubes three and four,” ordered the captain. “Make tubes one and two ready in all respects, including opening the outer doors.”

He didn’t expect to need them, but another melee situation was always possible, and it was better to be prepared for an emergency that never happened than to save the effort and regret it.

“Conn, sonar, we have four torpedoes in the water, bearings 358, 359, 006, and 008. Both Akulas have launched.”

“Match sonar bearings and shoot, Masters 76 and 80, as soon as tubes one and two are ready.”

Mack knew it was time for Cheyenne to clear datum. It was also time for their own countermeasures to be launched. As soon as he received the report of tubes one and two being fired electrically, he ordered the outer doors shut and the tubes reloaded. That would cut the guidance wires, but there was no help for it, and those torpedoes were outstanding at doing their own thing.

“Steady as she goes,” he said. “All ahead flank. Do not cavitate. Make your depth one thousand feet.” When those orders had been acknowledged, but before they had been executed, he added, “Rig ship for depth charge.”

The Akulas were running away. Mack was relying on the countermeasures to hide him from their sonar. That would give Cheyenne the chance to slip away — but Mack had no intention of slipping away. He was going after the fleeing Akulas.

Cheyenne reached flank speed, on course 275, and at one thousand feet, as the Russian torpedoes entered the baffles after the countermeasures. Sonar didn’t hear Cheyenne’s last two torpedoes as they entered their terminal homing modes.

“Conn, sonar, two explosions bearing,” the sonar supervisor began, but he interrupted himself. “Two more explosions, all to the north. They’re lighting up all three sonar consoles, Captain.”

He couldn’t provide range information for Mack, however. There was too much reverberation to get both direct path and bottom bounce information. But with the four explosions, sonar was sure the torpedoes found their mark.

Moments later sonar’s guess was confirmed. The four explosions were followed by the distinctive sounds of external pressure vessels on the Russian SSNs imploding from their descent to the bottom of the South China Sea. All four Akulas had been killed.

Four of seven, Mack thought. That’s what CTF 74 wanted. But it’s not what I want. Cheyenne would try for the last three, if she could catch them before they entered the territorial waters surrounding the Paracels.

First, though, he had to make sure the Akulas didn’t have any support. He ordered Cheyenne to proceed above the layer, and then to clear her baffles to starboard. Only the three Akulas fleeing to the Paracels were there.

Satisfied, Mack took Cheyenne back beneath the layer. He also took the opportunity to secure from battle stations while they took up hot pursuit toward the shallow waters of the Paracels. At his command, the crew deployed the TB-16 for the time being, at least until they started their approach to shallow water.

Cheyenne continued on course toward the Paracels, at seven hundred feet to keep beneath the layer, while battle stations and the rig for depth charge were secured.

Mack held his all-officer meeting after the battle stations fire-control party had reconstructed the attacks and reported their findings. Cheyenne had performed superbly, and the critique was very positive, but one item from the battle was bothering Mack.

It had been clear earlier that the Chinese commander-in-chief had ordered drastic measures. Cheyenne had seen that before, and had taken measures to counter it — at least, as much as possible. And Mack could understand it, from the Chinese… but not from the Russians. They weren’t at war with the United States. They had no reason to sacrifice themselves in battle. But they had.

Just like the Chinese Hans earlier, these Akulas had continued on course right at Cheyenne’s datum without trying to turn away, even when Mk 48s were coming their way. And it just didn’t make sense. Not with Russian crews aboard those Akulas. And not with Russia not formally involved in this war.

The officers discussed it among themselves, but no one came up with an answer that satisfied Mack. He filed the problem for the time being, but he intended to keep it in mind. Just as he’d shifted his tactics against the Chinese, so, too, would he take this into account the next time he went head-to-head with an Akula.

As Cheyenne approached the time for coming shallow, sonar reported numerous merchant ship contacts and also reported contact lost on the three Akulas. Mack wasn’t surprised, and at least they were still south of the banks where they didn’t have to worry about the oil rigs.

Biologics were also hindering the sonar search, and increasing the Russians’ options. Running beneath and with the merchant ships was an old ploy, and one Mack wasn’t about to fall for. He ordered sonar to conduct a careful tonal search on the bearings of the merchants and the biologics. A disturbance of previously undisturbed biologics could mean that a submarine was proceeding in their scattering layer.

The search was painstaking, but it paid off. Sonar gained contact on one Akula as it entered shallow water — and none too soon. Cheyenne’s towed array would have to be at least partially retrieved before she could enter the shallows without fear of damaging the array, and Mack couldn’t risk that. He expected he would need it for future patrols, especially since neither Arco nor McKee had replacement arrays for Cheyenne. If the runways at Cubi got fixed before the war was over, replacements would come in by airlift. Until then, Cheyenne couldn’t risk the one she had.

Mack ordered the TB-16 to short stay as Cheyenne ventured inside the one hundred fathom curve south of Bombay Reef in the Paracels. There would not be much time before the Akulas were safely in port, which meant that despite the Crazy Ivan or kamikaze Chinese maneuvers, a short-range attack was inevitable.

Battle stations were manned once the range to the Akula closed to inside 15,000 yards. Almost immediately sonar reported transient noises, surfacing submarines bearing 345 and 350. Cheyenne was ready with two outer doors already open.

“Snapshots, tubes one and two, bearings 345 and 350 respectively,” Mack ordered. He had no idea what the Master Numbers were from the previous battle in deep water, but it didn’t really matter. They would shoot now and reconstruct later.

As with almost all snapshots, the Mk 48s would have to do their own thing in detecting, tracking, and sinking two of the Akulas, but Mack expected them to deliver. This would be just like sinking surface ships. The Russian submarines would increase speed after surfacing and, cavitating heavily, would never hear the torpedoes approaching in their baffles.

No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy, Mack reminded himself. But there was an answer to that. If the only element of your plan is contact with the enemy, there’s nothing to survive, and you’ve got a better chance of success.

He was right. The two torpedoes, which had been set for shallow water, quickly acquired the Akulas. They detonated beneath their targets, rupturing the ballast tanks and sending the SSNs to settle to the bottom onto the coral reef.

“Conn, sonar, we have explosions on the bearings of the torpedoes. Also have those same sounds of Christmas balls falling off a tree and breaking.” Two of the Akulas were running aground on purpose after the explosions, hoping to keep their sails high enough out of the water that the crew could escape safely. Mack let them go. He didn’t care about the Russian sailors. He cared only that the boats would be useless for the rest of the war.

Cheyenne got to periscope depth in one hundred feet of water in time to see the third Akula passing safely over the horizon. Mack didn’t mind the one getting away so much as he minded not being able to get closer to the grounded Akulas. He would have liked to give the crew a special movie that night — periscope videos of Russian submariners jumping ship.

He smiled to himself as he gave the orders to take Cheyenne back out into deeper water. They’d have to settle for The Sound of Music, which was one of Mack’s favorites. Or, he thought, his grin growing wider, maybe he’d give them a real treat and let them watch From Russia with Love.