Tiger's Claw

ABOARD THE CHINESE AIRCRAFT CARRIER ZHENG HE

THAT SAME TIME

“The Z-9s report the traitor submarine is dashing, sir,” captain of the Zheng He, Admiral Weng, said to Admiral Hu, commander of the Zheng He carrier battle group. “The helicopters are running low on fuel, and converting the others for antisubmarine duty will take another twenty minutes.”

“I told you, Weng, every helicopter in the battle group should have been made ready for antisubmarine duty,” Hu said angrily. “We could lose the traitor.” He went on, “Get a second JH-37 ready to launch with torpedoes. Have every helicopter stay on station as long as possible with all sonars active. I want a position on that submarine close enough to get the JH-37 in position to attack. I do not care if they employ their sonars while sitting with empty fuel tanks on the surface—I want the Flying Leopard to attack, and I want that traitor’s submarine on the bottom now!”

“Here they come again,” Yao Mei-Yueh said as the sound of the active sonars got closer. “They are just not going to give up. Helm, steer zero-eight-five. Let us put more distance between us and the carrier—that will make those helicopter pilots watch their fuel gauges even closer.”

“Should we decrease speed, sir?” executive officer Chein Si-yao asked. “At fifteen knots, we are putting off quite a racket.”

Yao shook his head. “I want to get some distance first,” he replied. “If we hear those helicopters get closer, we will go back to five knots. But every kilometer we get from that carrier is another chance we will have to escape.” The Avenger on batteries was very quiet at this depth, even at twenty knots, although at that speed the batteries would not last very long. He flicked a channel switch on his intercom. “Sonar, any sign of pursuit from their surface ships?”

“None, sir,” the sonar operator replied. “All escorts appear to be staying with the carrier.”

“Very well.” Yao smiled. “What good is having destroyer escorts if they are just going to stay with their primary? Are they going to let the helicopters do all the work?” For the first time since they were discovered, Yao felt a touch of relief. They might just make it out of this with their skins intact.

“Contact, sir!” Weng shouted. “One of the helicopters got a momentary contact, bearing only.”

“Pass to the Flying Leopard and have him attack immediately,” Admiral Hu ordered, “and he had better not miss.”

The JH-37 Fei Bào swooped less than five hundred feet over the ocean near the carrier Zheng He at patrol speed, then took up a heading east on the same bearing as the sonar contact. Immediately after overflying the gaggle of Z-9 patrol helicopters, the bomber crew began sowing APR-3E torpedoes along the last reported bearing to the Taiwanese submarine, dropping one every ten seconds. When the torpedoes dove underwater, they detached their aerodynamic tailcones and activated passive sonar to search for a target.

Minutes later, one of the torpedoes picked up the sound of the Avenger sliding through the sea, less than a half mile away. It locked the target bearing into its navigation system, armed its 150-pound warhead, activated its active sonar, and fired its solid-propellant rocket motor. The torpedo immediately accelerated to almost one hundred miles an hour and closed quickly with its quarry.

•••

“Torpedo inbound!” the sonar operator shouted. “High speed, closing fast! He has acquired with active sonar!”

“Countermeasures starboard!” Yao shouted. “Helm, hard to port, flank speed! Sound collision!”

But at just a half-mile distance, there was no time for evasive maneuvers—the torpedo closed the distance in less than thirty seconds. It missed the Taiwanese submarine, but its proximity fuze detonated the warhead just a few dozen yards behind the Avenger. The massive overpressure instantly deformed the submarine’s rudder and several propeller blades, creating a massive vibration throughout the entire vessel. The sub felt as if it was going to roll inverted.

“All stop!” Yao shouted, scrambling for a handhold. “Damage report!” He dashed to the sonar station. “Are we making any noise?”

The sonar operation listened for a few seconds. “Loud cavitation and structural defect noises at this speed, sir,” he said finally. He listened again. “Sounds decreasing as we slow, but I can still hear some in the background.”

That could be a problem, Yao thought as he went back to the control area. “Damage report.”

“Several leaks around the propeller shaft and bearings, and possibly several bent propeller blades,” Chein replied, “but Engineering thinks we will have propulsion if we can risk the noise. The rudder has a seven-degree port cant but it is movable. All other compartments reporting no serious damage.”

Wounded, Yao thought, but not dead. “How much speed does Engineering think we can make?”

“It depends on how much noise you are willing to make, sir. They think a maximum of fifteen knots.”

“At least we can still make it home, if we can evade the Communists,” Yao said. “Comm, prepare a message floater, radio our position in relation to reference point Ânquán, request assistance—these helicopters are over Taiwanese waters.” The message floater was a buoy with a satellite transmitter and antenna aboard that would send a coded message to fleet headquarters, wait for message confirmation, then sink itself so it did not reveal the position of the sub that launched it.

“Floater ready, sir.”

“Release it,” Yao ordered. He waited until the message was sent and the floater sunk.

“Con, Sonar, helicopter noises on the surface, bearing two-zero-zero.”

“He might have spotted the floater before it sunk itself,” Chein said in a low voice.

“Helicopter sounds increasing, sir, bearing two-zero-zero,” the sonar operator said. “He is coming closer.”

“It is time to stop being the hunted,” Yao said. “Helm, take us to periscope depth, nice and slow.”

It took careful balancing of the ballast tanks to approach the surface without using forward propulsion and without broaching, but several minutes later they were stabilized at sixty feet below the surface. After a careful sonar scan, Yao raised the periscope and quickly did a 360-degree scan of the horizon, then turned to the approaching helicopter’s bearing. “Target, aircraft,” he announced. He tapped the laser rangefinder button. “Range eight kilometers. Weapons, ready IDAS in tube three, stand by to engage. Flood tube three.”

“Con, Weapons, IDAS ready.”

“Tube three flooded.”

“Open outer door on tube three,” Yao ordered. He magnified the image of the Communist helicopter, then locked it in. “IDAS, aircraft, tube three, shoot one.”

“IDAS, tube three, shoot one.”

The IDAS missile shot out and ahead of the Avenger on a blast of compressed air from the torpedo tube, and it steered itself to the target bearing. Once it was about fifty yards ahead of the sub, a booster motor on the rear of the missile fired, propelling the missile upward at over one hundred miles an hour and pushing it above the surface. As soon as it cleared the surface the spent booster motor ejected and the main rocket motor ignited, pushing the missile to almost twice the speed of sound. Seconds later, the missile impacted the Chinese Z-9 helicopter on its rotor mast just above the cockpit. The missile’s fifty-pound high-explosive warhead separated the mast from the helicopter, and the stricken helicopter crashed into the sea.

“Direct hit!” Yao shouted. “That helicopter will make enough noise to mask our damage sounds. Down periscope. Secure tube three, then reload IDAS. Helm, make your depth two hundred meters. Make turns for fifteen knots. Steer zero-five-zero.” Yao allowed himself to think they might actually get away from the area alive.