Chp. 11: Seawall
January 24, 2005
Near Caranda Beach
Ikov grabbed the branch and tugged, then pulled himself up when he was certain it was sturdy. He took a few steps onto the summit of the hill, M92 firmly in his hands. The rest of his escort fanned out and took up positions while his command section followed him to a vantage point where he could observe his northern flank directly. Like the south and central beaches, ISAF forces had gotten ashore in significant numbers, but were pinned down and unable to advance. Caranda was significantly flatter than the others as well, and that worried him. There wasn't much high ground to keep the enemy advance halted. He swung his map book around and took one more look at the lines. He took the handset from his radioman and raised the commander of the 821st Tank Battalion.
"Cekic 1 this is Orao 1, standby for new orders." He announced.
"Cekic 1 ready to receive." The colonel replied.
"Cekic 1, you're to place two companies in defensive positions along the two main roads inland from the beach. Your remaining forces will proceed from the highway and onto the northern and southern flanks. Engage any landing craft and units ashore. Standby to move in ten minutes, I want you to move under the cover of our first attacks on their ships."
"Understood, Orao 1!"
The man sounded enthusiastic; Ikov liked that. Morale was intact, and that would help just as much as every weapon they had on hand. He kept his eyes on the map until he heard the hiss of a missile being launched. He looked around until he saw a trail of smoke coming from a Strela-10. Its partner, just down the slope from Ikov's position, let off a salvo of three missiles at almost the same time. The General raised his binoculars to the sky and spotted dots breaking through the clouds and trailing flares.
"Enemy aircraft offshore! Get those Iglas ready!" He barked at Pavvo.
The Strelas fired all the missiles they had and managed to ward off the two attackers. Seconds later, two more dipped down to take over. Ikov ran to the edge of the slope and looked down towards the road. The convoy of Pasis they'd followed for started to veer off both sides of the road. In the chaos, one smashed into a small convoy of canvas-topped trucks heading inland. Paavo's men fired two Igla missiles as a second pair of Strelas engaged. Ikov hurried away from the slope and hit the ground. He looked up and saw two Lenish Jaguar attack aircraft race by well overhead. Below, half a dozen bombs blanketed the valley and anything in it. Ikov sat up as the missile vehicles launched at the retreating aircraft. One of the missiles seemed to have the right path; Ikov silently encouraged it. When it struck the back end of the Jaguar, he joined the others in cheering.
The first pair, now the second, appeared overhead but were met by an organized and alerted defense. One of them seemed to be particularly displeased that the Eruseans had gotten its friend. It dove on one of the Strelas and nearly used itself as a bomb. Ikov felt a tug of respect for the Lenish pilot as he pulled away, risking shrapnel from his own bombs. One of Pavvo's men caught the Jaguar with an Igla as it turned towards their position. The Strela was lost in a flurry of bomblets, but its attacker lost a wing and rolled away. Ikov stood up and watched it struggle to regain control before it slammed into another hillside some meters away. That elicited a second cheer from a few of the soldiers, and Ikov raised a fist in victory. As he lowered his hand, he looked at the watch on his wrist. With the first Viggens due to fire any moment, he had a good feeling that they might win this battle…
The dozens of Viggens heading for the beach had the attention of ISAF's flotilla as well. They'd been expecting some kind of attack, almost ready to wonder if it might not happen after all, when the first signs and contacts reached their radar coverage. The radio grew even busier as reports were met with orders.
"Sky Eye this is Pandora 21, be advised that we're Winchester but bandits are still a factor."
"Copy Pandora. Mobius 1 and Mobius 2, Sky Eye, move to intercept bandits from the south."
"Copy that Sky Eye. Pandora, anything else we should know?"
"Be advised that they still have some escorts with them. Flankers and Fulcrums."
"Much obliged, Pandora."
"Understood, vectoring additional aircraft to intercept. Mobius, be aware of friendly ships engaging from the east and stay clear of their envelope. Sheean, you and your group are cleared to engage targets from Heading 330 to Heading 210."
"Understood Sky Eye. Moresby, Ferdinand and Brunberry maintain your cover of friendly landing ships. Cape Moss and Issac will move forward with Sheean to alternate stations."
Lieutenant Commander Christian Brighton had been waiting for the acknowledgement. He made sure his headset was on tight while the Moresby shifted to the left, increasing speed and distance from its sister ships. Ahead, the amphibious ships were moving off their stations and turning to allow the surface combatants to come forward. Their slower speeds meant that Moresby and her counterparts had to keep steady pace to keep traffic clear. Their air search radar had been spotting targets for a long time, and he'd just been waiting for them to turn towards the coast. Sailors under his command hurriedly categorized the groups and plotted every meter they flew, trying to determine their attack profile. Priority naturally went to the closest targets, however few there were, and those in the assigned firing arc.
"Contacts identified as Viggens, sir. Nearest group is at 245, 110 kilometers and closing. Confirmed 16 contacts. Designating nearest threat groups as Romeo 1 and 2." A lieutenant barked over his shoulder.
Almost instantaneously, the other frigates nearby were transmitting what they saw and were selecting. The Aegis-class Sheean was the centerpiece, though, with its advanced management systems. Brighton's counterparts across the other five ships spoke through the displays around him in milliseconds. The Tactical Action Officer (TAO) for Moresby grabbed his handset and squeezed the transmit button.
"Conn, CIC is tracking 16 enemy aircraft approaching. Ready to engage on your command." Brighton relayed.
"Engage immediately." Captain Drew replied. Brighton hadn't even put away the handset when he relayed the command.
"Aye sir. Engage Romeos 1 and 2 at will. Delay second salvo until Romeos have reacted to the first."
The SM-2 mounted on the ship's main launcher burst into the sky, followed shortly by a second. Brighton watched as a total of eight missiles were launched in just over a minute. They joined an increasing number of shots fired at the incoming raid. Moresby slowed only a bit as Ferdinand fell in behind it, allowing them to run nearly parallel to one another. Brighton grabbed the handset again as he stared at the plots of other vessels.
"Comms, CIC, do you have contact with the amphibious ships we're defending?" He demanded.
"Copy CIC!" An unfamiliar voice replied.
"Tell them to turn harder or they'll end up passing us."
"Aye sir."
He released the button and ordered the second salvo fired. The closest contacts, numbering six, had split and begun to evade. Smears appeared on the radar displays as they released countermeasures. The eight behind them were doing the same as they dropped altitude. He ordered the second salvo before the ship had a chance to start turning. One by one, contacts started to disappear. It was too hard to figure out which were by his missiles, and he was more interested in the fact that the threat number was being dropped further.
"Alert, Vampires inbound! Six and counting!" The Lieutenant reported. Brighton clutched his handset.
"Target and engage all Vampires at will…Conn, CIC has multiple Vampires inbound."
"Conn copies all. Brace for evasive maneuvers."
"Aye sir. All hands brace!"
An alarm sounded throughout the ship, alerting the crew to the threat of an attack. Brighton reached down and secured a seatbelt across his lap. The ship jerked to the left, shooting bundles of chaff from its sides to confuse the missiles. On her screens, the numbers continued to whittle down, now on both sides. Sheean launched another salvo of SM-2s, which seemed to blossom from the ship like the smoke they left behind. The three frigates stuck as close to their circular pattern as they could, trying to keep two of the ships on the "hot" leg as much as possible. Brunberry took up Moresby's watch until it'd come about. The MTO missiles the Eruseans had fired were starting to diverge, revealing what they'd targeted. The third wave of Viggens, again numbering sixteen in total, were less than a minute from firing.
"Moresby, Ferdinand and Brunberry, this is Sky Eye." A Lenish accent spoke up. Brighton keyed the boom mic for his headset.
"Go ahead, Sky Eye." He replied.
"Mobius is engaging at this time to your north and south. Four Tomcats from the Fort Grace have also been assigned to your sector."
Brighton acknowledged as the ship went into another series of maneuvers. More countermeasures, more SM-2s, and now the ship's Phalanx CIWS (Close-In Weapons System) above the helicopter hangar was being brought to bear. Even its big 76mm gun just forward of that was ready to help. Brighton's subordinates regrouped the incoming missiles and determined they had six inbound for them. Another eight were heading towards the landing ship Odysseus some kilometers off their eleven o'clock. They had 15 missiles left; Brighton chose the first solution that came to mind.
"Sky Eye this is Moresby, I need those Tomcats to start targeting and engaging ASMs heading for friendly landing ships." He radioed.
As four missiles were salvoed at the incoming MTOs, they'd gotten close enough that their every move was being verbally stated. They were three minutes from hitting the ship and still following it. The Captain had the ship pull another sharp turn, leaving chaff behind as it moved to a new heading. He kept the bow pointed south so the CIWS could keep track of the threats. Ferdinand steered the same way, then went back to the left to avoid the cloud of chaff.
"Two Vampires confirmed dow-make that three. Three down and two decoyed." The Lieutenant spoke up, now much more tense.
"CIWS, start tracking nearest Vampires!" Brighton replied.
The two sailors manning the stations for point defense set the system to auto-acquisition and waited, simply reporting which missile was targeted first. With a few minutes left before they got in range, Brighton ordered two more missiles to be launched. The F-14s launched their own AIM-54C Phoenixes in seemingly every direction.
"Two missiles inbound for our ship, and two heading towards the Odeysseus. SM-2s and AIM-54s launched at them may not intercept in time." The Lieutenant reported.
"Launch two more SM-2s at the ones bound for Odeysseus!" Brighton ordered.
Moresby went to the right, trying to turn harder than the MTOs' computers could handle. The Phalanx jerked about for a second to lead the closest threat before it spat out 500 rounds in the blink of an eye. The armor-piercing rounds didn't intercept the missile so much as they filled the airspace it was going to fly into. The rounds eviscerated the nose cone and left holes all along the left side of its body. The damage to its control surfaces sent the missile drifting down, until seawater was sucked into its engine. The missile dove into the surf and in a flash of seaspray ceased to exist. The CIWS immediately jerked back towards the other missile as seconds became a vital commodity.
"Conn, sound the alarm to brace!" Brighton hurriedly demanded.
He grabbed the handlebars on the sides of his consoles and forced himself against the seat of his chair as hard as he could. The second missile received a "longer" burst, but it'd reached the terminal phase. Brighton watched his knuckles pale as the dot representing the MTO reached the center of one of the radar displays. Despite being disarmed and torn up, there was still about 650 kilograms of metal and jet fuel being flung at the ship. Part of the wreckage fell into the water, bounced, and tumbled into the side of the ships' central structure. The rest went careening over the helicopter deck or into the side of the hanger. The shockwave was much lighter than anyone had expected, and Brighton took that chance to get his mind back on the action. Every second was still valuable, and damage control was the captain's responsibility.
"What's our radar picture look like? Where's the third wave?" He demanded.
"Friendly aircraft have engaged the third wave. No missiles inbound for our sector at this time." The Lieutenant reported. He sounded a bit distracted.
"What else?" Brighton added as he looked at the nearest radar screen.
"I'm not seeing Brunberry or Ferdinand on the radar, sir!"
"Do we have their last known positions?"
"Yes sir!"
Brighton took the information from his display and contacted the bridge.
"Conn, CIC has lost contact with Ferdinand and Brunberry. Do you have a visual on either? They should be coming around at our eleven."
"Conn has visual on both, Brunberry is smoking near its amidships, but Ferdinand appears to be intact." Drew reported.
"Understood. What are your orders?"
"How many missiles do we have left?"
"Three SM-2s left, sir."
"Anymore threats in the area?"
"None pointed at us for the time being, sir. I'm concerned about the third wave of aircraft leaking through."
"Reload the countermeasures; I'll let Sheean know we're almost out of weapons."
"Yes sir."
A feeling of nakedness overcame him, but Brighton kept to himself. He ordered the countermeasures reloaded and tried to raise the other two frigates once more.
"Ferdinand, Brunberry, this is Moresby CIC. Please report your status. I say again, please report your status." He forced out, clinging to his sense of calm.
"This is Ferdinand CIC, we've lost our SPS-49 and our SPS-55 needs time to be brought back online."
"How many SM-2s do you have left?"
"Magazine's empty. Have you managed to reach the Brunberry?"
"Negative, nothing from them."
Brighton relayed the matter to Drew, who in turn had the Ferdinand move so it would end up on the other frigate's right. Moresby would maintain the outer leg of their new patrol at all times. The captain grabbed his handset for the 1MC and hailed the hangar area.
"ATC, Conn; how much loiter time do our Seahawks have?"
"About 90 minutes remaining, sir." Another Lieutenant Commander replied.
"Good, tell the one that's airborne to move towards the Brunberry and help however they can. Get the other ready for rescue operations immediately."
"Yes sir."
Things seemed to exceed the fever pitch of detecting the first Viggens, which were still out there. The Brunberry had started using its signal lights to broadcast its situation. The ship had been hit by a single MTO 85 about dead center. It could receive messages but not transmit, and was still trying to contain the damage. Nonetheless, minds were going towards a worst-case scenario. The destroyers and cruiser moved south to shield the circling frigates from leakers while everyone was trying to organize a rescue effort. After less than a minute of back-and-forth, the cruiser took control of the situation.
"Ferdinand, Moresby, head towards the Odyesseus to assist in rescue operations. We'll take care of the Brunberry." Its captain spoke up.
"Understood." Drew replied after a second's hesitation. They didn't have any missiles anyways.
"I can provide one of my Seahawks to assist." He added.
"Save it for the Odyesseus."
Drew acknowledged and relayed the order to ATC. The two frigates reluctantly turned away from the coast, maintaining as erratic a pattern as they could. The Round Table-class landing ship was ablaze and unmoving.
"All remaining ships this is Sky Eye; further friendly reinforcements inbound. What's the situation down there?" The Sentry from earlier spoke up.
"Sky Eye, Sheean and group have engaged and destroyed multiple waves of ASMs and attacking aircraft. Have two ships that have been hit badly, possibly fatally. Three more damaged to varying degrees." Sheean's CIC reported.
"Copy, what's the status of your magazines?"
"Sheean has 30 missiles left. Cape Moss and Issac last reported they've got 10 SM-2s each. The Moresby and Ferdinand are moving to assist the Odyesseus."
"Understood, we'll alert the Birdwood to deploy helicopters."
Drew turned around and began passing along orders to take up position west of the ship, so that the tide would carry any survivors closer to them. Sick Bay, though small, was also told to start making room and finding room. Drew looked through the sea-sprayed windows as the frigate split a growing wave. The sight of at least two more plums of smoke in the fog only served to sicken Drew. In a sense, the Moresby had failed its primary mission. The day wasn't over yet, though, he reminded himself. You have a new mission now, Harry, so focus on that.