Chapter 34
"That's it!" The crewman manning one of the radar consoles shouted with a mixture of fear and excitement. "Last friendly is out of the way."
"55-Bravo's, lock on to air targets and engage!" Captain Pollock
nearly shouted. "Fire at will!"
I knew that six decks above, and three hundred feet forward, two of the large missile directors were swinging to starboard and sending out waves of radar signals. Eight decks above them, two more were doing the same thing. Thanks to the extra height of those two directors, they were able to lock on to the low-flying aircraft at greater range. Moments later, the sound of four SM-2 (ER) missiles taking off was audible even here, in the Combat Information Center located amidships and below the waterline. The officer in charge of the missile teams announced the next birds were on the way to the rails within fifteen seconds of the first launch. The next salvo would take longer, but I hoped not too long.
"Three kills confirmed!" Another radar operator shouted in the dimly lit compartment and I felt a slight wave of relief at the sound of the third salvo being launched. The blue lights that were used here made it easier to see radar screens but cast everyone's faces in an eerie way. Less than a minute later a fourth salvo was launched while another controller announced that Mississippi, Arkansas, and Yorktown were engaging their targets.
The other nuclear cruiser equipped with the longer-range ER missiles was already at the bottom of the Gulf. The U.S.S. Bainbridge had hit a magnetic mine buried on the floor of the Straits of Hormuz. The blast had broken her keel, and ruptured both her primary and secondary coolant lines in a nuclear reactor. The resulting meltdown meant the area of ocean would be radioactive for decades until everything was cleaned up, and local fishermen would be out of business for longer, probably.
The Tarawa's helicopters had picked up thirty-three survivors, all of whom were suffering from radiation poisoning in addition to various injuries.
"Last bogey is dead!" The ship's Operations Officer, Commander Bridgeport said with a large amount of pride. Long Beach had now used thirty-six of her one hundred and sixteen usable SM-2 (ER) missiles and of those thirty had been clean kills. In comparison, the Yorktown, a ship over twenty-two years newer had launched twenty missiles with fourteen kills. This old bitch of a ship could fight, and a large part of that was due to her crew and her captain.
"Tell the Yorktown to get her helo in the air." Captain Pollock directed one of the crewmen assigned to maintain communications with the squadron. Seconds later the main tactical screen updated as the Yorktown's helicopter rose from twenty feet in altitude just inboard of the smaller cruiser and began to climb to its maximum height. With the fighter screen gone, she could operate safely and the Iraqis had managed to push hard enough that the E-3 Sentry radar plane had been forced to retreat so far over Saudi Arabia that her surface search radars weren't covering us. The SH-60 helicopter that was now climbing had her surface search radar with an effective range of nearly 180 miles. While not as far-reaching as that on board the E-3, the helicopter was where we needed it now, not hiding over land like the E-3 Sentry plane.
"Damn, they're moving in fast." Captain Pollock swore under his breath and I had to agree silently with him. "Mr. Jones, I owe you a dollar."
"Captain, if I survive long enough to collect it, you can keep the damn thing." I said softly and he chuckled.
"I hate to waste Tomahawks on little dinky missile boats." Captain Pollock noted and I nodded again. Tomahawk anti-ship missiles carried one-thousand pound warheads, could severely damage, if not sink, a cruiser, and cost about a million dollars each. The surface contacts now showing through the link to the helicopter's radar could be killed by a few fifty-pound five-inch gun shells or a Harpoon. The only problem was that the Soviet missiles on those boats had a longer range than the Harpoons, and there were fifteen of them coming in, each with four to eight anti-ship missiles.
"Another note for Sea Systems Command for us to make; we need more range on the Harpoons." I said softly and it was his turn to nod at me.
"Okay, Mr. Bridgeport, spin up Tomahawk anti-ship missiles for firing." Captain Pollock issued the order that was necessary. "Also tell all the other ships with ASM Tomahawks to spin them up and designate different targets. One missile per target."
"Aye aye sir." Commander Bridgeport issued, pulling out his key and
opening the Tomahawk control panel. Since there were two nuclear-tipped missiles
in those launchers as well as two anti-ship missiles, the whole process was
more secure than just pushing a button. It still took less than a minute though
before he reported ready.
"Fire." Captain Pollock said and a nearby closed circuit television showed the two Tomahawks launching from the stern of this ship. The main tactical screen showed dots launching from Mississippi and Arkansas at almost the same time. California, as always, it seemed, followed seconds later by unleashing her missiles. This time it took several minutes for the weapons to reach their targets, and twelve missile boats disappeared from the radar track after mushrooming for a few seconds when the missiles hit.
"Vampire, Vampire, six, eight, no, now counting twenty vampires inbound on a bearing of 083." A radar controller shouted with strain.
"Long Beach has leading four vampires." Lt. Commander Haroldson, the air defense officer, announced as the SAM teams went to work getting radar locks. The message was relayed to the other ships. Four more missiles streamed from the ship I was on, followed less than half-a-minute later by four more. Of the first four, two had splashed an incoming missile. This time there were two SAM's targeted on each incoming missile. Arkansas managed to down four of her own, as did Mississippi and Yorktown. California got two more of them, leaving two to head into the formation of cruisers. One more was splashed by shrapnel from the five-inch guns on the three other cruisers. That left one more, and it was heading right for Long Beach, the biggest radar target.
"Holy fuck." Captain Pollock breathed and I had to remember to breath
as the cruiser's Phalanx Close-In-Weapons System fired, sounding like a chainsaw
and even down in the protected CIC, we could hear the explosion of the incoming
missile. It had been hit less than a mile from the ship, and there was a report
from the five-inch gun crew of shrapnel from the missile hitting the main deck.
There was no damage though.
"My god, it really does work." Commander Bridgeport said as he crossed himself. There were several other crewmembers doing the same, and I didn't blame them at all.
"Yes it does, Mr. Bridgeport." Captain Pollock said with a rugged smile. "Now, signal all ships to set EMCON Condition Alpha and to begin high-speed maneuvers."
"Yes sir." The commander said quickly and I watched the various radar controllers relax slightly as the radars far above us stopped spinning. On each of the cruisers, all radars and electronic devices that could leak waves of energy detectable by ESM devices were being turned off now. All further communication would be by blinker light as the five ships accelerated to flank speeds and began to maneuver slightly south and west. Long Beach had to hold back some of her possible top speed, but the ship still shook as we passed thirty-eight knots. Mississippi and Arkansas were managing to keep up with this speed while California and Yorktown fell behind with their slower maximum speeds.
A Soviet Il-76 radar plane had found us two hours ago, and as a result we'd been fighting for our lives for three hours in the central part of the Persian Gulf. Waves of fighters swarmed towards us from both countries, only to be met by American and Saudi fighters in a massive air battle. Some of their planes had gotten through only to then be shot down by our surface-to-air missiles. The air battle, while futile, had allowed the surface ships of the two countries we were fighting to close on us. Iranian ships were to our east and Iraqi ships to our north. Since we had to operate with our radars turned on, those ships could home in our own radar waves like they were beacon lights.
Now their Il-76 was shot down and our radars were turned off. They no longer had radar contact with us and were no longer seeing a 'beacon' from our own radars. With the change in direction and speed, we were hoping to get out from our currently bad position and then turn to engage the Iranian navy from a direction that would not allow the Iraqi navy to support them. If the maneuver worked, we could sink the Iranians and take on the less capable Iraqi navy later.
Four hours and three cups of coffee later, we were in position. We'd traveled nearly one hundred and five miles from our previous position, and it was radar coverage from the returning E-3 that let us know where the enemy was. Each ship fired four Harpoon missiles at the assorted Iranian corvettes and frigates, all of whom had been steaming to our last known position. Five minutes after launch, new Soviet air radar came on-line, getting clear returns from our battle group. All of our ships turned their radars back on, and we prayed the Iranians wouldn't get good targeting data before our own missiles hit.
"Multiple large air contacts on bearing 090!" A crewman's voice rang the alarm as the tactical screen updated with data from our own radar and that of the Yorktown. Six large air contacts could be seen turning in our new direction, and there was only one thing they could be.
"Prepare for air action to starboard!" Captain Pollock shouted with alarm.
"Vampire vampire!" The same crewman called out in fear. "We have twelve vampires inbound from air contacts! They are supersonic!"
"AS-6 missiles." I observed needlessly.
"Vampire vampire!" Another crewman shouted. "Eighteen vampires inbound from surface ships.""Yorktown and California engage the inbounds from 010." Captain Pollock ordered before ordering our missile crews to engage the incoming vampires from the Soviet bombers. This attack marked a turning point in the war. The Soviet Union had just launched a direct attack on American warships.
"Feller, get a message off to Washington that we've been fired on by Soviet
forces." I ordered the Assistant Radio Officer. Captain Pollock just nodded
since he was busy with the missile crews. His current air defense officer was
proving to not be as quick and decisive as was needed for this work. Seconds
later the first missiles were off the rails at the supersonic incoming targets.
These things moved much faster, and had larger warheads than the missiles we
faced in the past. The other two nuclear cruisers tackling them with us were
already firing as well, despite their shorter range.
"Nine down, ten down!" A crewman called out a minute later as our missiles shot down the incoming warheads. This time though, there was no hope of five-inch guns getting even one of them. The two missiles streaked towards the Long Beach passing over the two smaller cruisers with impunity. Mississippi's CIWS fired at one of them but missed the extremely difficult cross-angle shot. Long Beach's two CIWS fired a second later, each targeted on the same missile. Both hit it, destroying it instantly and knocking the other slightly off course while the ship continued firing chaff into the air and maneuvered so wildly the bulkhead was almost the ceiling.
The entire ship rocked as the missile impacted on the aft superstructure. Shouts
filled the air and the concussion wave knocked me off of my feet and into a
nearby radar console. Something warm and wet obscured my vision and my head
swam for a moment.
"You okay?" A crewman asked me as he helped me to my feet. I tried to nod, but my head was too dizzy.
"I'll be fine." I said breathlessly, but didn't resist as he helped me into his chair. I saw why he was so willing to abandon his seat after I wiped the blood from my eyes. His screen was dead.
"The aft superstructure is gone." Captain Pollock breathed with disbelief as he looked at a video feed from outside. The lights flickered a moment as diesel generators came online. The damage reports were flooding in now and I was able to make most of them out. The number two reactor suffered shock damage and its connections to the ship's power supply were down. The other reactor was still operational, but only put out enough power for maneuvering. Our diesels would power other systems that the main reactor couldn't. The NTDS link was still active and the main tactical screen showed us that the news from the rest of the squadron wasn't as good.
Yorktown and California were both bits of flotsam after taking three missiles each from the Iranian surface group. Captain Bradshaw, the man I'd flown with to Diego Garcia was now dead along with three hundred and sixty crewmembers. Mississippi was steaming up to look for survivors while Arkansas moved in to help Long Beach with fire fighting. We weren't in danger of sinking, but we were heavily damaged.
The aft superstructure of Long Beach was the base support of SPS-49 long-range air search radar. The mast had been blown completely off of the ship by the two-thousand pound warhead. Gun crews in the two gun mounts just forward of the superstructure reported several casualties from shrapnel. The fireball from the explosion had destroyed both CIWS mounts, the remaining four Harpoon missiles, two of the ship's nine utility boats, several dozen life boats, and had killed about fifty crew members. Fires were raging in the stump of the superstructure and for five decks below.
One of the casualties was the ship's doctor and half of the ship's medical crew since sickbay was directly below the aft superstructure, four decks down. The forward medical bay was now where all casualties were being taken, and where I refused to go after the captain saw the gash in my forehead. I did let a crewman with first aid training put a quick bandage on it though, and then I was on my feet standing next to the Captain as he received damage reports from the Damage Control Assistant.
"Mt. 52 reports four injuries, and damage to their system." The DCA reported after telling of the total loss to the ship's remaining anti-ship missiles, CIWS, and SPS-49 radars. The damage was bad, but not total. Mt. 52 was one of our five-inch gun mounts. Mt. 52 was the other five-inch gun mount. "Mt. 51 is operational, and only had two minor injuries, both of which were treated on site. Both Tomahawk launchers remain operational although the fire in the ship's gym is endangering the Tomahawk Control Room."
"Keep them operational at all costs." Captain Pollock ordered. The only missiles left in those tubes were nuclear, and it was natural to worry that with the Soviets now involved in this war we could go nuclear at any moment.
"We will sir, although we will need to restore power once the fire is out." The DCA commented with a frown. "Power aft of frame 170 is intermittent right now. We should have #2 Reactor back up within two hours."
"Very well, continue with the fight." The captain told the DCA who left quickly to go back to Damage Control Center, just twenty feet away. "Mr. Jones, how is your head?"
"It's fine, sir." I said firmly.
"Good, what do you think?" He asked me and I knew what he was thinking.
"Sir, we no longer have any real surface-to-surface capability, but we still have our SAMs and the other two ships will need that." I answered and he nodded in agreement.
"We'll get underway for the Iraqi fleet as soon as the fire's out and we have all the survivors from Yorktown and California." Captain Pollock stated and I let out a sigh of relief. "Meanwhile, you'll get down to sickbay and have that head looked at, and that is an order."
"Aye aye, sir." I said softly before leaving combat, or at least trying to leave. A bout of dizziness made it hard to stand, so a crewman had to help me follow the captain's orders to go up the two decks and forward one hundred feet to the forward medical bay. Battle lanterns lit the passageways, and we had to crawl through the scuttles on between-deck hatches, closing them behind us. If I'd been alone, I wouldn't have made it, especially once we got to the mess deck and thick smoke hung in the air and a coughing fit hit me too hard to continue solo. Not far aft of us was the leading edge of the fire, threatening to reach the entrance to the #1 Reactor.
The forward sickbay was overflowing with casualties. Most were in far worse shape than me. It was nearly two hours before the ship's dentist, now serving as a corpsman, could treat me. The gash was deep, and there were some glass fragments in there that had to be removed before he placed butterfly bandages over the cut and told me it would heal, but there would definitely be a scar.
I made my way through the crowded passageways back to the CIC, nearly gagging on the smell of diesel exhaust and smoke that filled the ship's corridors. The lights in CIC were dimmer than normal, and the captain looked absolutely exhausted as he munched on a cold-cut sandwich. He motioned to a nearby box that when I opened it contained another sandwich, some chips, and a carton of apple juice.
"The fire's out and we're heading north." Captain Pollock said softly as I began to wolf down the food. "The Mississippi and Arkansas picked up about sixty survivors from the other two ships. Our convoy is heading north now as well at flank speed."
"What about the Iraqis?" I asked with some nervousness.
"They've turned around and are heading back to port." Captain Pollock said with a sigh that spoke of the relief he felt. "The best estimate we have right now is eighty-three dead or missing here on the ship, and another two hundred injured. Mount 52 is back up, but we have no Harpoons or point-defenses left. If we land a helo to get the wounded off, we're going to have to guide them in by hand signals since Flight Control was also damaged. A few panels here are also damaged but we'll get them fixed within a few hours. Power is still out aft of frame 170 as well. I think the Iraqis are going to try to stage a coordinated air and surface attack when the convoy gets close enough tomorrow to Kuwait."
"You want to try to lure those surfaces ships back out right now or give the crew time to rest?" I asked him with some curiosity.
"We'll leave that fight for tomorrow when we have the Chandler and the frigates able to join us in the fight." Captain Pollock said firmly and I had to agree with the plan. We didn't have the firepower to guarantee a victory against the Iraqi navy right now. That was when he dropped the real big bomb on me. "The America and the Eisenhower are gone."
"What?" I exclaimed, nearly choking on the apple juice I was swallowing.
"Those Backfire bombers that hit us were part of a larger group transiting through Iran." Captain Pollock informed me while shivers went up and down my spine. "The rest of them came out of Iran at supersonic speeds and launched their missiles. Fighters from the two carriers managed to get most of the bombers but not before they launched their missiles. We lost two cruisers, two destroyers, and both carriers. The America was destroyed by missiles from a submarine that launched just outside of their formation."
"Fuck." I cursed softly. If I'd still been aboard the carrier, I'd be dead now, along with Admiral Langsworth.
"We had no intel on the attack." The Captain's statement was not quite a rebuke, but it still stung.
"They must think our battle group was a big enough threat to risk direct involvement." I said softly, shaking my head. I really hadn't thought the Soviets would move directly against us.
"Well, that's not all of it either." Captain Pollock said and this time it was my stomach dropping into my shoes. "They got the Forrestal and Saratoga in the Mediterranean with subs as well. Nimitz is reporting South African planes approaching their formation and she's had to slow her speed of advance in order to conduct more extensive flight ops. If we weren't so certain they aren't going to use nuclear weapons, I'd say Armageddon is right around the corner."
"I don't know if that's a good thing or not." I said softly as a crewman I recognized from Radio came forward. He had a clipboard full of printouts for me and I signed for them before speed reading through them. "Fuck."
"What now?" Captain Pollock asked with a sigh.
"The Indian Navy just put to sea." I said with a note of disbelief. "Every single ship they have, and they're moving towards Missouri and her escorts. She's going to have a fight on her hands to break through. Pelilieu is retreating to form up with Missouri so they can combine escorts. She's still got six Harrier jump-jets and a single SH-60. That will give them some aircraft to combat the Indian's two carriers and twenty British-made jump-jets."
"Think they'll break through?" Captain Pollock asked and I shrugged.
"Probably, but they'll take losses doing it if the Indians fight, or they face more Backfire raids." I said. "Intel is showing no transfer of more bombers to bases that can reach this region, and they only have eight left that can hit us right now. The surface task force in Yemen is sitting tight as well. Washington's ordering the surviving escorts from our carrier fleet to form up on Tarawa and pull back to defend the re-supply base in Oman."
"So, we're going to be alone in the Gulf for a while once the Iranians finish their minefields in the absence of our carriers." Captain Pollock observed dryly. I just nodded at the obvious statement. "Okay, I'm going to set Condition Three watches with the lull we have right now. I want the crew to get as much rest as they can. I want my officers on a four-section rotation and Lt. Kowalski was killed in the fire. You'll be standing the Delta-section watch as CIC Watch Officer in his place. It's six on, six off, so go get your rest."
"Sir, I'm not…" I started to protest, but his stern look shut me up. Instead I made my way through the scuttle hatches up to the O-4 level where my cabin was and took my time once inside. My khakis were soot-stained, so I decided to take a quick shower. The water pressure was almost non-existent so I just cut it short after soaping up and rinsing off. Then I sat down and wrote a letter to Brian, one I didn't know if he'd ever receive.
Dear Brian,
Today World War III started, and I can't help feeling some guilt for it all happening. I know intellectually that I didn't cause it to happen by coming back in time, that it was other people coming back and using their knowledge in ways that I refused to do that has brought us to this situation. Still, twenty-five thousand sailors and marines died today, because I, and the others, came back in time.
At this moment, you are the only thing that gives me some hope. I never had you, or the love you give me, the first time around, but I have it now. If I didn't know that our enemies were as scared of using nukes as we were, I'd be worried about losing you. As it is, I only hope you don't do something crazy like joining up.
I can't imagine what it's like in the States right now, especially once word gets out of the losses we took today. There's some good news in that our surface group is still functioning and we'll get the convoy through with a bit of luck. We might be able to hold our positions until reinforcements reach us, but that is not a guarantee. I don't know if you'll ever read this, or if I'll ever be in your embrace again, but I will be praying for that with all my heart.
My first life was full of failures, and incomplete dreams turned to dust. I refuse to let my second life end up that way, and you give me hope that it is possible. Please, my love, keep yourself safe. I will be doing all I can to do the same so that I will come back to you.
Love,
David
No sooner had I finished than there was a knock on the door. The marine guard on duty out there admitted RM3 Long from the Radio Room, and he had a stack of dispatches. I knew the satellite link had been damaged in the shockwave of the missile hit, but it must have been very quick to repair. I signed for them and began to rummage through the stack of pictures and written reports rapidly.
The Soviets were playing things very, very smart. No overt moves in Europe, but they were keeping their forces on high alert. That meant we couldn't divert more forces to the gulf in case they did move. All Soviet nuclear forces were on firm standby, with no heightened alert status. The silo doors were closed, and their bombers were even pulling back to port. The signal was loud and clear, they were not preparing to use nuclear weapons, and fully expected us to not use them either.
That was a little bit of good news. Nuclear war was the one thing that would destroy the Earth, and it wasn't until after the Cold War ended that both sides learned just how truly adverse to the use of those weapons the opposite side had been. Now, both Alexei and I knew that for a fact, and the leaders we advised had listened to us. Barring some huge accident, no matter what happened with this war, it would not end in nuclear fire.
The fact that the Soviets weren't sending more units to the region also gave another message just as clearly as if it had been written. The pieces were in play, and neither side could reinforce without risking widening the conflict. If we tried to move units out of Europe, the Soviets were in position to intercept or to just invade across Germany. Were the Soviets to try the same, we could also intercept or move across Germany. Neither side could afford the escalation, so the forces we had in the region were going to be very important.
That meant the convoy absolutely must get through unharmed.
By the end of the six-hour rest period I had drawn up a bold plan for the captain's review. He was in CIC when I came back down and I knew that he knew I hadn't been sleeping as he'd ordered. That didn't matter though once he saw the plan I had come up with and the intelligence reports I'd based the plan on. Instead, he ordered the plan to be sent up the chain of command for approval and coordination with other local commanders. To my surprise he only made three minor revisions.
Two days later, we were in position.
A lot had changed in those two days, and none of the crews or soldiers in the region was anywhere near well-rested. Still, we were alert enough to handle our jobs. I was in the CIC, standing watch as the Duty Officer, a position I no longer argued about not being qualified for. The captain and his primary officers were up in the wardroom going over the last changes to the plan I'd come up with and giving status reports on the ship's preparedness.
The Long Beach had proved her battle worthiness the day before when six Iranian Mirage jets had broken through the air patrols and gotten within range of her missiles. All six had been downed before they'd gotten within forty miles of the ship. Four had been shot down before the ship had even finished going to battle stations and the captain hadn't reached CIC until after the last was shot down. I'd been the Duty Officer and ordered the engagement without needing any help from the junior officers sharing the watch with me.
An hour after that had occurred; we'd listened to the engagement between the Missouri/Pelilieu battle group and the Indian navy. Two Indian carriers, all their escorts totaling most of the Indian Navy, and about twenty long-range bomber aircraft from Indian air bases had engaged the battleship, the marine helicopter carrier, and their four escorts.
What the Indian's didn't expect was that the American ships weren't alone. The United Kingdom and France had repaid the debt they owed America from World War II. The French carrier Foch, with four escorts had been visiting Australia and the HMS Illustrious had been returning from a port-of-call to Hong Kong when hostilities were started. When President Reagan called those governments for assistance, both carriers and their escorts had set sail to help the battleship/helicopter carrier battle group.
The Foch was a conventional aircraft carrier that had less than half the planes of an American super-carrier. The planes were also much less capable than the state-of-the-art warplanes on American ships, but against the Indian Navy and Air Force, they were just fine. The French fighters intercepted the incoming Indian Harrier jets and shot them down long before they got within range of Missouri or Pelilieu. The Pelilieu's six Harriers were also in the air, but they'd formed up with their British counterparts from Illustrious and hit the incoming Badger bombers from the mainland.
Two bombers had gotten through the lines and launched missiles. All their missiles were shot down by the Missouri's escorts. The British Harriers landed on the Illustrious for rearming while the carrier's Sea King helicopters searched for the Indian ships exact location. It was an Alize aircraft from the Foch that found them first, though. The Alize was a propeller-driven plane reminiscent of a World War II torpedo bomber. It was intended to hunt and sink submarines, but also had powerful surface search radars that found the Indians heading back to port.
Twenty Tomahawk anti-ship missiles were launched from Missiouri and her escorts. Harriers from Illustrious launched and raced for the Indian ships twenty minutes later, while Super Entarde fighters from the Foch also raced to the targets. The Tomahawks arrived first. Two had hit the Indian's best destroyer, blowing it up instantly. One was shot down by the Indian's air defenses. Five more blasted into the Indian carrier Viraant, causing it to blow up in a conflagration visible to the approaching French fighters. The last four hit the other Indian carrier, causing enough damage that her crew would abandon ship an hour later and she'd go to the bottom of the ocean after her fuel bunkers caught fire.
The French aircraft sank eight more ships in the confusion that followed the Tomahawk attack. The British Harriers arrived fifteen minutes later and finished off the last seven escorts. In less than three hours, the proud Indian Navy had been reduced to a handful of frigates far from the battle scene, a few troop transports, even fewer submarines, and a dozen or so patrol boats and corvettes. The three allied battle groups steamed into a loose formation with the British and French working to screen the American ships from land-based Indian or Russian attacks. Once the Missouri and Pelilieu were safely united with Tarawa and the remainder of the two sunken carriers escorts, the allied formations would head south to protect Diego Garcia.
Tomorrow, those ships would meet up with us, and the American combined fleet would head north to challenge the Iranians and the Straits of Hormuz once again. Now though, the Long Beach and her escorts had a mission to perform in the north of the Gulf that had to be successful. News had broken back home of the lost carriers, and panic was starting to set in among the civilian population. Already, it was being referred to as another Pearl Harbor and people thought America was on the verge of falling.
Long Beach wasn't in perfect condition either. The aft superstructure was a hulk of twisted metals that still steamed in several places. Eighty-six crewmen were dead, another fifty-six wounded with twenty-two of those so seriously they'd been evacuated as soon as had been possible. They were on the La Salle now, hopefully safe near the island nation of Bahrain in the middle of the gulf. On Long Beach, power had been restored in the aft sections of the ship, and to the Tomahawk launchers, but those areas of the ship near where the aft superstructure had been were all but uninhabitable. Both five-inch mounts, their directors, and the ASROC launcher amidships had been repaired and were working again, and some minor problems with the upper missile directors had been repaired. Even without the SPS-49 radar, the two CIWS mounts, or the Harpoon anti-ship missiles that had been on the aft superstructure, the nuclear cruiser was a force to be reckoned with.
Especially since no other cruiser in the fleet could have taken a hit from a missile with 2,000 pounds of high explosive in the warhead and survived to fight another day. The Navy just didn't make cruisers like this anymore and I knew it was only the 'old way' of ship design that had kept me still alive after the ship I was on had been hit. Now we were once more leading the fleet into harm's way.
"Mr. Jones, four planes have broken through the lines." The senior enlisted controller on duty informed me needlessly. I could see the screen for myself.
"Sound General Quarters, transmit battle stations to the fleet, and request the captain's presence." I ordered quickly. "Fire control, prepare to lock on when planes are in range and get birds on the rail."
"Aye sir." Four voices rang out at once and seconds later the sounds of the general quarters alarm filled the ship. It was only an hour earlier than planned and restless crews already manned most of the ship's battle stations.
"Bogeys are one hundred forty miles out." Lt. Markens called out.
"Lock on and fire at one hundred." I ordered just before the captain came into the CIC room and took over. He didn't countermand the orders; just nodded at the update I gave him.
"Very well, captain has CIC." Captain Pollock said aloud as the last of the crew manned their stations and reports came in that the ship was at battle stations.
With Mississippi a mile to the port side, Arkansas a mile to
the starboard side, and Chandler a mile ahead of us, we were in formation
for the approach to Kuwait City. The Pentagon was saying we still had two to
three days before the Iraqi army was ready to invade the small nation, but I
was personally betting it would be today or tomorrow. The incoming planes were
all shot down two minutes later, the last one by Chandler, her first
kill of the war.
"Secure from air action." Captain Pollock said after the last fighter was down.
"Sir, FLASH message from Kuwait command." One of the communications specialists said with a tone of emergency. "The Iraqi army is on the move, straight for the border."
"Mr. Jones, I believe some people in Washington owe you money." Captain Pollock said to me with a wry smile. About sixty miles north of us, several thousand soldiers were preparing for the worst-case scenario. If the convoy ten miles behind us made it to port, we'd be unloading their equipment while under fire and with Iraqi armor heading in. The Kuwait army and light armor division in place would do little to slow them until they hit the edge of the city. "Get the helicopters and Harriers heading north."
"Aye sir." Another controller said before talking into his radio headset. Miles behind us, four Harriers and twelve troop transport helicopters lifted off from the Saipan and headed north towards Kuwait city. The Harriers were the only American aircraft in the area with anti-tank weaponry. Saipan and two other ships in the convoy also had Sea Cobra attack helicopters, but the range was just inside their maximum limit and that meant fuel tanks would have to be carried instead of weapons. They'd be used later, when we were closer.
For three hours everyone sweated intensely as reports came in from Kuwait. The mine field that had been laid in the desert claimed a good number of Iraqi tanks. In the air, F-16, F-15, A-4, and F-5 fighters fought a tooth and nail battle with Mig-29, Mirage, Mig-21, Mig-23 and other fighters from Iraq and Iran. The battle group shot down another fifteen aircraft from Iran that tried to join the air battle or attack the convoy ships.
A helicopter from the Chandler found the Iraqi navy that had left port the night before. Three Kuwaiti missile boats were in position and launched everything they had at the Iraqi ships, killing several of them. Twenty minutes after that, the Chandler, Mississippi, and Arkansas fired their own Harpoons and obliterated the rest of the ships before even one of them got off a shot. Two very small Iranian gunboats, armed with nothing but machine guns and rocket launchers, almost got within range of the battle group, but the Arkansas sank them with her five-inch guns.
When we reached the harbor entrance to Kuwait City, Chandler and Mississippi
took up positions on the north side and began shelling incoming Iraqi tanks
with directions from marine spotters already on the ground. Arkansas
and Long Beach took up SAM positions and joined the air battle by shooting
down Iraqi and Iranian aircraft led into range by defensive fighters. The Sea
Cobra helicopters from Saipan and the ships in the convoy took off at
last while the four surviving Harriers returned for rearming. Each of them would
kill at least six Iraqi tanks before returning without casualties for rearming
while the convoy headed into the harbor itself.
Marines and Army soldiers waited on the piers for the ships to offload. The large equipment ships from Diego Garcia were first to the piers, and tanks began rolling off of them within twenty minutes. It would take the better part of a day to unload all of them, but the process was begun. The marine landing ships pulled up to other positions, their flat bottoms letting them get closer to the shore than the larger ships. From the two LST's, marine tanks began rolling into Kuwait, while helicopters, landing boats, and hydrofoil transports delivered more troops and equipment to the shore.
That was when the Soviet backfire bombers made their reappearance. The eight surviving planes from the earlier raid actually launched their missiles from over Iraq, well outside fighter or SAM range. At the same time, fourteen Iraqi Mig-21 and Mig-23 aircraft streaked for our formation, and I broke out into a sweat.
Chandler and Mississippi turned to unleash their SAM batteries, temporarily distracted from shelling the approaching Iraqi armor. Long Beach was already engaging the incoming missiles and had eight SM-2 ER missiles in the air. Four more followed twelve seconds later and the Arkansas opened up on the surviving inbounds. The other two ships opened up on the incoming fighters, but were only able to get six of them before they reached missile range.
Three Mig-23 fighters fired short-range anti-ship missiles at Chandler.
The destroyer's point-defense systems fought hard, but two got through. Fortunately
they were small missiles, yet they still managed to cause heavy damage to two
missile directors, a radar system, and the destroyer's helicopter hangar. Two
more Mig-21's headed towards Mississippi on a bombing run, but two SM-1
(MR) from two Perry-class frigates shot them down before they got close
enough. Mississippi had emptied her missile magazines, Arkansas
now had four surface-to-air missiles left, while Chandler had sixteen.
Long Beach, with her slower firing rate and larger magazines, still had
twenty-six missiles left to fire.
The convoy had reached Kuwait safely.
By the time the sun set, most of the small country was in Iraqi hands, but the capital city was still in friendly hands. Tanks, patriot batteries, and all the equipment the soldiers on the ground needed had arrived and were being deployed while Iraqi artillery moved into position to begin pounding the city. Answering fire from the newly off-loaded artillery responded, as did the five-inch guns of Long Beach, Mississippi, Arkansas, and Chandler.
"Now we settle in for the long haul." Captain Pollock said later that night as the ship went from battle stations to Condition Three. We'd been at battle stations for a little over sixteen hours now. Arkansas and Chandler would have the Naval Gunfire Support duty for the next six hours, firing their five-inch guns whenever calls for help came in from the shore. Long Beach and Mississippi would take over the role then while the other two ships rested. The air threat was almost non-existent at this point with both sides resting their air forces from intensive battles. Most of the Iraqi and Iranian air forces were now destroyed while our side had at least a somewhat effective number of aircraft left.
Captain Pollock was right, this would be no fast Gulf War with the enemy destroyed
by overwhelming numbers.
As with all my stories, E provides immeasurable input, grammar checking, and all those other lovely editing thingies that make the story so much better!
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