Charles Taylor - Show of Force

"The Americans, too, have sustained heavy losses, including three cruisers."

"Admiral?" Kupinsky turned to another voice by his shoulder. The man had been trying to attract the Admiral's attention, but he was vying with the low rumble coming from the hangar deck.

"Yes, what is it?"

"We have just received a plain-language message from Moscow, sir. Intelligence reports that the American carrier, Constellation, has passed through the Strait of Malacca."

Alex turned back to Svedrov. "You see, strength in numbers. The Americans have lost a great carrier, but even before they knew it, they were directing another with equivalent airpower in our direction." The phone by his elbow buzzed. He picked it up, muttered his name into the mouthpiece, listened for just a moment, and hung it up without a word.

He stared intently at the displays framing the dimly lit plot, looking at but not seeing the lights and symbols that kept track of the battle. Finally his eyes stopped at the board with the list of ships' names, the ones already lost. "That was Captain Scherensky. He is concerned about Lenin. He feels we may want to shift our flag to another ship, or at least make plans to do so."

Svedrov's eyes dropped. The heavy eyebrows and stocky body gave him the appearance of a bulldog. There was still a lot of fight in him. "I see." He said nothing for a second. "I will contact the Admiral Senyavin. They have the capacity for our staff."

"She has also been badly damaged, Svedrov. Our cruisers have been excellent targets today, just like the American cruisers. Perhaps we shall have to pick one of the destroyers."

"I will see to it, Admiral."

As Svedrov was uttering those words, the fate of Lenin was being sealed. While the Aegis ships had sector positions to maintain to protect Nimitz, the little frigates and destroyers had continued directly into the Russian line of advance. They were, as they had been in earlier wars, expendable. In this case, they were literally the only ones to see the Soviet force with their own eyes.

The brash, young commanding officer of Capodanno, one of the smallest of the frigates, found himself watching the burning Lenin through his binoculars. He asked a messenger to find the pilots of the ship's LAMPS helicopters. Ensign Steve Young reported to him in less than a minute, fully dressed to fly and quite out of breath. "I'm sorry, sir, we have only one helo left. Bob Kerner didn't come back."

"I'm sorry. I hadn't been informed." The captain handed the young officer a pair of binoculars, then pointed to the wing of the bridge. "Come out here with me, Steve. I want to show you something."

They leaned together against the windbreak, their elbows on the edge to steady their glasses. Wherever they looked ships were racing to unknown positions. Ships were firing missiles.

Ships were burning or sinking. But the CO of Capodanno centered his binoculars, and the young ensign's as well, on the burning Russian carrier on the horizon.

"Your torpedoes can be set to run shallow?" It was a question and a statement at the same time.

"Yes, sir. I guess so, although they're designed to home on subs."

"I know that. But could your torpedoman set them to maybe run a thousand yards and sink that carrier?"

"I don't think the people in Washington had that in mind for the Mk 52, but we can sure take a shot at it."

"Okay. You get on that phone," he pointed at one by the chart table as they stepped back into the pilothouse, "and get that man up here on the double."

The Mk 52 could be set for shallow running, and the torpedoman was sent back to the hangar to arm the helo. Over the chart table the captain spread photos and drawings of Lenin from almost every imaginable angle. He pointed out to the young pilot where the 76-mm. and Gatling-style guns were located. The helo was to fly up on the Soviet carrier from the starboard quarter, hugging the water. It would be hard to pick up on radar, and likely would not be seen by lookouts until very close. He would have to judge for himself when to release his fish. The guns were radar controlled, the Catlings used more as a last-ditch antimissile weapon. Perhaps their fire-control radar couldn't lock on him, but the minute they did, there would be little time. Once the torpedoes were launched, he was not to turn back to Capodanno. Simply put his bird in hover and jump into the Indian Ocean.

Rezvy, a relatively new Krivak-II guided-missile destroyer, had been selected by Svedrov. It could not take the entire staff by any means, but its communications system would allow the Admiral to regroup his force and maintain tactical command. As they prepared the last of their materials for transfer, the American LAMPS helicopter from Capodanno had succeeded in closing to less than a mile from Lenin. Because of the interior communications problems caused by the fires, the lookout on the stern could not immediately get his siting message to the bridge. It was finally relayed by a unique jury-rigged system that is the mark of sailors in every navy.

But by that time, the helo had positioned itself on the starboard beam of Lenin. Normally, there are two pilots and a systems man to coordinate the search-and-weapons section in the helo, but this time Steve Young had been selected to pilot the craft with his torpedoman flying shotgun. Lenin brought the 76-mm. guns to bear, but the fire-control radar could not isolate the helo. The mount captain put the gun in local control, and his crew began the process of firing short bursts to pinpoint their target.

The first torpedo was released for a straight run at the after section of the ship at a fifteen-foot depth. The helo then shifted its position slightly to direct the next one at the bow. That caused the gun crew to shift their own sights slightly, and allowed that extra second to release the second fish. The helo was in hover. Ensign Young pushed open his door, nodding to the other man to do the same, and together they jumped.

As they came to the surface, the two Americans found their attention divided. The first torpedo had struck about one hundred feet from the stern of Lenin, sending a tower of water skyward. At almost the same time, Lenin's guns found the helo. The 76-mm. shells caused the machine to falter for a moment before it began to dip. Then the Galling guns found their target, tearing it apart before it hit the water. The explosion of the second torpedo, just forward of Lenin's superstructure, riveted their eyes on the big ship. Lenin was definitely heeling to starboard. What they didn't know was that the first fish had exploded inside the after engine room, buckling the giant shafts. Her motion was simply the movement of a ship coasting. Afraid to inflate their life raft yet, they watched fascinated as more secondary explosions racked Lenin's hull. She was beyond saving.

In Lenin's flag plot Alex Kupinsky felt the torpedoes through the deck before the sound ever reached him. He no longer was in contact with Captain Scherensky, and he did not know where the torpedoes had come from. He simply knew that today he and David had exchanged carriers.

It was too dangerous for Rezvy to put a line over to Lenin. She stood off a few hundred yards and put her whaleboat in the water, Alex Kupinsky departed his flagship in the same manner as David Charles. He leaped from the lowest non-burning deck into the Indian Ocean, inflating his life preserver as he surfaced. The whaleboat was quickly beside him, and Admiral Kupinsky was hauled aboard just as soaking wet as Admiral Charles had been. As the boat made a wide turn away from the burning ship, it was Alex Kupinsky who sighted the two men in the water and directed the boat to them, assuming they were Soviet sailors. It was also Alex who was the first to offer a hand to the youth, whom, he noted immediately, was wearing American pilot's gear.