Charles Taylor - First Salvo

Sonar was incapacitated by noise, clutter. The underwater explosions blanked any possibility of determining whether they’d gotten a hit. They were, after all, nuclear attack subs capable of outrunning a torpedo.

Only one thing left to do. Run down their throat. The missiles were for long-range, standoff-type weapons. Close in, they’d have to use torpedoes.

Off their port quarter, there was a rocking explosion, one that echoed across the water, definitely not from a torpedo hitting below the waterline.

Perry ’s captain swung his glasses around. He saw only smoke and flame from the direction of their sister ship. She’d taken a hit from that last missile. Now Perry was all alone.

No sooner was he aware of that than another voice came over the speaker from sonar — more torpedoes in the water from the submarines! In the confusion, had they streamed their own decoys? Yes! The gunnery officer had seen to that automatically with the first contact. Her NIXIE buoy was streamed astern, creating more noise for a homing torpedo than the ship’s propellers.

But Perry had nothing else to attack the subs with. No standoff weapons, no depth charges, just her own torpedoes, and he had to reload the starboard side now. His attack would be made with the remaining port torpedoes — three of them. Then he had nothing — nothing until he could launch his second helo!

He came about to tow NIXIE along the track of the incoming torpedoes. As he looked out over the surface of the water, staring in the direction of the unseen torpedoes, various reports arrived on the bridge — another ten minutes to free the hangar doors, about the same time to reload two of the empty torpedo tubes. The third had been damaged by the launch!

The effect of the underwater explosions was diminishing. Sonar again had a definite submarine to port, operating at high speed. New sounds — like a boat breaking up. They must have hit one of the subs — one of the five torpedoes must have hit one of them! Other sounds — high-speed screws, more torpedoes approaching from port.

Perry ’s captain overheard the telltale sounds through the speaker from sonar — a high-pitched squeal increasing in intensity as they drew near. He waited — an explosion astern, water bursting hundreds of feet into the air. One of the torpedoes had homed in on NIXIE! Where was the second? There was no squealing of screws nearby. Both must have gone off at the same spot — the decoy!

The water was once again turbulent. Nothing could be detected by sonar. The captain turned his ship in the direction of the last contact. As soon as he found that sub, he’d fire. There was no logic in giving the Russian any chances. Who could tell which sub had fired the last missiles — the one that had been hit or the one he was after now? If it was the former, he might expect another missile breaking the water any minute. Or was he too close to his quarry? Those subs were faster than his frigate; one had had a chance to run while he’d been evading them. In five minutes, going in opposite directions, the subs might be ten miles apart. One of the subs’ computers could feed a solution into its launching system and another missile…

Radar contact port quarter — on the screen — off the screen — high speed — another missile! The damned sub had opened the range while Perry was evading! At that range, it would take about a minute to impact.

Sonar gave him a course for the submarine. It had apparently fired a missile, then changed course to come in for a torpedo attack, if necessary. The sub was closing in again! The captain brought Perry on a new course to intercept, leaving his Phalanx open.

Even as they settled on the new course, the Phalanx opened up with a deafening roar. Four minutes until they could put the second helo on deck — only one starboard torpedo tube loaded. The second would take longer because maneuvering was delaying the loading.

The shattering sound of the Gatling gun was cut short by the impact of the missile in Perry ’s, midsection. It detonated under the torpedo room. The port-side torpedo tubes were blown over the side; the automatic 76mm gun was damaged; the nearest gas turbine under the blast was disabled; fires spread quickly on three deck levels. The captain could see nothing of his ship from the impact point on back — he had no idea whether or not she would be able to continue the attack.

He called for the rudder to be put over — Perry responded. But with only one engine functioning, his speed had been cut considerably. The torpedoes he had planned to use while they finished reloading the starboard tubes were gone. He had only one torpedo ready, and one helo that he had no idea whether or not he could launch, and a ship that was burning badly.

What he still had was sonar contact, and he conned his ship down the throat. He intended to take the second sub with him. Closing was difficult. His speed was diminished and Perry had been holed below the waterline. As he moved through the water, he was forcing the ship to fill faster than it normally would have. He was shortening her life — the weight would slow her and lessen her maneuverability. But that was his last concern at the moment.

Sonar had a solution: they could fire their remaining torpedo! He brought Perry to the recommended firing course. He saw his own torpedo hit the water, porpoise for an instant, then dive.

“Sonar reports torpedo running smoothly. Sonar reports other torpedoes in the water.” The Russian submarines had also fired at least two tubes. They waited.

Perry was now leaning heavily to port, smoke pouring astern. But she still was able to make about ten knots — she might still have a chance. The captain eased her on to a new course, directing his bow toward the oncoming torpedoes, and waited.

The first hit was Perry ’s. It was definite. The cheering from sonar spread to the bridge. But the last report from sonar was of torpedoes closing. The sonarman had been making his report just before their own hit. Now they would hear nothing after the explosion in the water; they would not be able to track the incoming torpedoes.

Wham! Perry ’s bow rose out of the water from the impact, the explosion of the Soviet torpedo lifting her, shaking her 3,500 tons like a child. When she settled back, the bow, from the missile launcher forward, was gone. There was no need for a second torpedo. Flames licked back over the forward section of the ship. Before the captain could give orders to abandon ship, the missiles in the forward magazine exploded. What was left of the little ship plunged like a rock.

A helicopter from one of the two remaining frigates arrived on the scene moments later. It found Perry ’s sister ship still burning. It found remnants of Perry herself. And in separate locations, it identified what were later considered remains of two submarines.

Oliver Hazard Perry had begun the legend of the Battle of the Mediterranean one day prior to D-Day!

Ryng was aware of an internal struggle. It was the body’s automatic reaction to returning consciousness… get those eyes open… identify your surroundings… let the rest of the body know where it is.

One eyelid opened slightly. A sliver of light penetrated, but something else held firm. He reached up tentatively. The eye was crusted. Cautiously, he rubbed, gently removing whatever held it partially shut. He removed his hand. Light flowed in, creating a sharp pain. He blinked, closing his eye, then opening it slowly until the discomfort subsided.

Ryng knew instinctively that he must locate his surroundings before moving. But nothing registered. Nothing. Sand, gravel, pebbles. A breeze blew something that brushed his face. He rolled the eye up. A bush of some kind.