Larry Bond: Shattered Trident

“Verify Sierra-five two’s course, aye, sir.” A few moments later Covey reported back. “Confirm Sierra-five two’s course is zero seven six, Captain.”

Frowning, Jerry asked, “Is it just me, or is that course too southerly for a Japanese destination? Quartermaster, what course would we steer if we were heading for Japan from Vietnam?”

“Working on it, Skipper,” replied the quartermaster of the watch. He had just selected the appropriate digital chart from the library menu and was using the trackball to lay out a rough voyage-planning route. “Sir, a better course from Ho Chi Minh would be about zero five zero, headed for the Hainan Strait. They are way too far south.”

Jerry turned around and leaned over the large horizontal display screen. “Here is Sierra-five two’s current track, and this is the course they should be on,” said the quartermaster.

“Not very likely this is a navigation error, is it?” inquired Jerry whimsically.

“I’d say nearly impossible, sir.”

Looking back up, Jerry spoke in a loud voice. “Any guesses why this ship is nowhere near where she’s supposed to be?” All Jerry got were shrugs and negative replies.

“Me neither,” he said. “Well, let’s keep an eye on her for as long as we can. In the meantime, let’s stay focused on our primary…”

A growing murmur from the sonar techs distracted Jerry; something was happening. The sonar supervisor didn’t keep him waiting. “Sir, transients from Sierra-three eight. It sounded like torpedo tubes being flooded.”

Surprised by the report, Jerry demanded confirmation. “Are you sure that’s what you heard?”

“Yes, sir. Both Petty Officer Gilden and I are sure.” Jerry saw the other petty officer nod his head vigorously. That was good enough for him.

“Attention in the tracking party, Sierra-three eight appears to be conducting an approach and attack drill on Sierra-five two that may include shooting water slugs. This is a prime piece of intelligence on Chinese anti-surface tactics, and we need to collect every scrap of data that we can on this evolution. The Shang may execute an evasion sequence after the shot, so stay on your toes. Carry on.” Jerry was excited at the thought of recording a mock attack by a Chinese SSN. Opportunities such as this were rare, and he had a front-row seat at the fifty-yard line.

“Mechanical transients from Sierra-three eight. Contact is opening torpedo tube outer doors,” announced the sonar supervisor, excitement in his voice.

Iwahashi acknowledged the report. The Shang SSN was less than seven thousand yards away from the merchant. Ten thousand yards was the estimated outer edge of a Chinese sub’s engagement envelope against a surface ship, based on past exercises. He’ll shoot soon, thought Jerry as he tried to imagine himself in his counterpart’s shoes.

Not even a minute later, the sonar supervisor called out, “Launch transients! One… no, two slugs!”

Jerry turned to look at the sonar display, but was stopped short when he saw the color draining from the sonar supervisor’s face. “TORPEDOES IN THE WATER!” he shouted. “Two weapons bearing zero three zero!”

“I have the conn!” Jerry barked. “Pilot, right full rudder, all ahead flank! Sound general quarters!”

The flurry of responses to Jerry’s orders was only partially hidden by the BONG, BONG, BONG of the general alarm. Almost immediately, additional people began piling into control as the battle stations team took their positions. The executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Bernie Thigpen, literally had to shove his way through the masses to reach his station.

“What the hell is going on, Skipper?” Surprise and concern were all over his face.

“XO, our friend out there just fired two torpedoes.”

“Seriously?” Thigpen asked incredulously. “At us?”

“Seriously. And I don’t know,” Jerry replied. “But I’m not taking any chances. I’m cutting behind the Shang. If those weapons are aimed at us, any anti-circular run feature should force them to shut down.”

“Captain, passing zero four zero to the right. No ordered course given,” exclaimed the pilot loudly.

“Very well, Pilot. Steer zero seven zero.” Jerry had to raise his voice to be heard over the growing buzz.

As the pilot responded to his captain’s orders, the sonar supervisor shouted out, “Captain! The torpedoes are classified as Yu-6s, bearing zero two seven and drawing left. But I have down Doppler, repeat down Doppler, the torpedoes are heading away from us!”

“Keep it down, people!” Jerry roared. It was too noisy in the control room and he had to hear every report properly. “Very well, Sonar.”

“Concur, sir,” Thigpen reported. “Weapons are not coming toward us.”

Looking up at the port display, Jerry saw the Chinese torpedoes pulling away from them—they weren’t the intended target. He then saw North Dakota ’s speed climbing past sixteen knots; he needed to slow down before they popped out of the Chinese boat’s starboard baffles. At high speed even a Shang would be able to hear them. “Pilot, all ahead two-thirds. XO, are those torpedoes heading where I think they are?”

“If you mean the merchant ship, then yes, sir,” responded Thigpen flatly. “They’re closing at over fifty knots; time to impact, three minutes forty-five seconds. And there isn’t a blessed thing we can do about it.”

In an eerie silence, Jerry and his crew watched as the dots representing the torpedoes merged with the merchant’s symbol. It struck Jerry that the engagement looked just like a video game—only this time, people would die in the end. The explosion from the first torpedo was easily heard through the hull. But before the sonar supervisor could even make a report, a much louder, far more powerful explosion followed.

“Sweet Jesus! What was that ?” exclaimed a shaken Thigpen.

“Had to be a sympathetic detonation,” said Jerry dryly. “But from what? The ship was listed as carrying coal.”

“Captain, I have loud breaking-up noises from Sierra-five two, bearing three one seven. She’s going down fast.”

“Very well, Sonar.”

“Skipper, the Shang’s bugging out.” Thigpen pointed toward the port large display. “She’s altered course to the left and has increased speed. Orders, sir?”

Still a bit stunned himself, Jerry simply stared at the display, desperately trying to understand what had just transpired. But soon he felt the weight of everyone’s gaze upon him. Everyone in control was waiting for a decision from him. He was the captain. Sighing deeply, he said, “Let her go, XO. We have more pressing business.”

Turning to Lieutenant Iwahashi, he continued, “OOD, make for Sierra-five two’s last position. Best possible speed. We need to see if anyone survived that blast. I’m not very hopeful, but we need to at least take a look. XO, you and the commo have ten minutes to get me a draft OPREP-3 message. We’ve just witnessed an act of war, and we need to phone home.”

8 August 2016

Hanoi, Vietnam

Dr. Komamura Sajin took in the view of Hanoi as they drove. Much of the architecture still reflected French rule, although modern buildings were mixed in everywhere, replacing ones destroyed in “The War.”

The city was filled with history. After his lecture yesterday morning, he’d visited the B-52 Victory Museum, escorted by a large party of Vietnamese officers and officials. They’d even arranged a meeting with a veteran of the war who’d flown MiGs against the Americans. Komamura was still getting used to his celebrity status, but he loved the perks that came with it.