Kevin Miller - Raven One

“Cap’n, the dhow’s pick’n’ up speed and appears to be heading southeast.”

Albright snapped his head to the port bow. Because the dhow showed only a single light, it was nearly impossible to discern aspect in the darkness. Other lights on the horizon signified strait traffic, but this vessel, instead of falling off to port as per the rules of the road, had increased speed and had set a course to intercept or to cross in front. Why is this guy screwing with me? Albright wondered.

“Range to the contact?” Albright barked.

“Five thousand yards, sir. CPA one thousand.”

“Increase speed to full,” he responded.

“ Increase speed to full , aye sir. Helm, engine ahead full. Indicate one four two revolutions for 20 knots,” the conning officer commanded.

Once the lee helmsman repeated the order, Albright calmly said in the hushed darkness, “Sound general quarters.”

“Sound general quarters, aye, sir!” the bosun acknowledged and reached up and hit the Klaxon.

BONG, BONG, BONG, BONG … “General quarters! General quarters! All hands, man your battle stations! Now set Material Condition Zebra throughout the ship!” BONG, BONG, BONG, BONG …

The bridge watch could hear the scramble of sailors running to their stations and closing watertight doors and hatches. Like the others, Albright broke out the gas mask stowed under his chair and pulled his socks up over his blue coveralls. All the while, he kept an eye on the dhow. Others in the bridge already had their flash gear and helmets on. Albright smiled at how much faster his people could do it for the real thing vice scheduled exercise. The whine of the LM 2500 gas turbine increased in intensity and permeated the bridge as the ship increased speed.

Albright shouted across the bridge, “Mister Reynolds, keep us outside 10 fathoms, but give me as much room as you can between me and this idiot.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” the OOD responded.

Richard Best was now hugging the southern border of the outbound shipping lane in order to run past this unidentified dhow that was getting dangerously close. Some three miles to starboard was shoal water and Omani territorial waters. Ahead was clear, with radar showing a very large crude carrier making the southbound turn in the lane at eight miles.

“ Range? ” Albright barked the question.

“Twenty-five hundred yards and closing, sir!”

“Five short blasts.”

“Five short blasts, aye, sir!”

The ship delivered five blasts from the ship’s horn, a deep resonating hmmm that carried across the water. The blasts, a message common to mariners, signified danger or disagreement. “Battle stations manned and ready, sir!” the bosun bellowed from his station amidships.

“Very well,” the OOD answered.

Just then the phone talker sang out.

“Officer of the Deck, signal bridge lookout reports multiple contacts bearing three-three-zero relative at 2,000 yards. Identified as possible boghammars, sir!”

Albright snapped his head to the left and shouted, “Put a light on him! Now! ”

A few seconds later a searchlight illuminated the water off the port bow, and the watch team saw several small bow waves cutting through the serene water a mile away — and pointed at Richard Best.

Boghammars!

“This is the Captain. I have the conn!” Albright shouted for all to hear. “Right standard rudder!”

“Right standard rudder, aye…. Sir, my rudder is right standard. No new course given!”

“Increase your rudder to right full,” Albright said in a sharp tone, and grabbed the sound-powered phone. He snarled into the receiver. “We are under attack! Get that helo airborne right now! ” Turning to his OOD, he added, “Mister Reynolds, give me a course between the sandbar and the coast. I want to scrape these guys off before we reverse to the east.” The ship heeled to the left.

“Aye, aye, sir. We’re going into Omani waters though,” Reynolds replied.

“They’ll get over it… Rudder amidships , mark your head!”

“Rudder amidships, aye, sir. Sir, my head is one-four-eight!”

“That should work for now, sir,” Reynolds chimed in.

“Very well, steady as she goes. Engine ahead flank, ” Albright added.

As the helmsmen shouted over each other responding to the Captain’s orders, the ship’s Seahawk helicopter, Talon 42 took off and flew past the port bridge wing. Finally, Albright thought.

The bridge was a flurry of activity, with Albright issuing orders to the helm and to his XO in combat concerning weapons status. He also sent a report to the task force commander with a call for assistance. His officers shouted navigation bearings and depth soundings to the team, and lookouts reported range and bearing to the lead boghammar . The Iranians were engaged in a tail chase with Albright, who planned to use the sand bar to port to prevent the Iranians from cutting the corner once he turned east. Maybe he could even cause them to run aground in the darkness, despite the fact the shoal was well marked with a light. The lead boats were inside 1,500 yards and gaining as Richard Best sped through the water at 27 knots. Albright did the math in his head. They would be in effective RPG range in less than five minutes. The aft lookout had already reported sporadic small-arms fire from two of the boats.

“XO, any guidance from Fifth Fleet?” Albright shouted into the sound-powered phone.

“None yet.”

That was all the captain of Richard Best needed. He was not going to subject his ship and crew to any more risk from these clear acts of war. “XO, this is the captain. Weapons free on the boghammars in trail approximately 1,000 yards.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” he replied.

Okay , Albright thought. The wheels are in motion.

“Sir, we’re approaching shoal water in two minutes on this heading. Recommend come left to zero-nine-five.”

Just then the CIWS 20mm cannon mounted above the helo hangar sprang to life with a loud guttural BORRRRRRRPPP as it targeted the first boghammar . Albright shouted over the din. “Mister Reynolds, you have the conn. Take us close aboard the sandbar, but stay outside 10 fathoms!”

“Aye, aye, sir. On the bridge, this is Lieutenant Reynolds and I have the conn. Belay your reports! ”

Before Albright headed to combat one deck below, he stepped out on the port bridge wing and looked aft, covering his ears at the din. Another angry burst from the CIWS sent a streak of yellow tracers aft. They lit up the back of the ship and appeared to float toward the boghammars , almost hovering in space before hitting its target. He observed numerous ricochets and, for a moment, was awestruck at the display. At least one boat was now out of action, but Albright counted muzzle flashes from five or six other boats nearby. The ship heeled to starboard as Reynolds initiated his turn, unmasking the 76mm mount. The gun immediately unleashed a series of deafening metallic BOOM s, accompanied by a bright muzzle flash every second as it worked over a target. Talon 42 got involved as it rained down a sudden band of machine-gun fire on the easternmost boat. Albright had pulled himself away to go below when a splash close aboard surprised him: then another splash slid past him as high as the bridge wing. This isn’t small arms , he thought, and as he stepped back inside the pilothouse, he heard the lookout report. “ Boghammars at three-one-zero relative going to three-two-zero. Five hundred yards!”