Chapter LVIII: Damn the torpedoes!
0430hrs, 21 December 2013, Somewhere off the Coast of Socotra, Yemen.
"Over there! Over there! Send the word, send the word, over there! That the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming, the drums rum, tumming everywhere. So prepare, say a prayer, send the word, send the word to beware. We'll be over, we're coming over, and we won't come back till it's over, over there." Over There, George M. Cohan.
The USS Vantage (DDG-117), an Arleigh Burke Class Guided missile destroyer, barely made it through the Suez Canal before the attacks began. Already, she had taken some small arms fire, shattering a window on the bridge and pocketmarking the sides of the ship.
Commander Glenn Woodsworth, who had just taken command of the ship barely a month ago, was now thrust into a situation that practically no one had expected a week ago. A graduate of the US Navy Academy at Annapolis (Class of 1998), he was near his early forties, with brown hair, a round face and dark skin (it came from his Italian side). They were circling Socotra, doing about twenty knots or so, and keeping at a safe-ish distance of 25 nautical miles out.
"XO," he said to the executive officer, Lt. Commander Robert Louis. "Status on the island." He couldn't get any sleep, and decided to take a peek up on the bridge to make sure everything was alright.
"No activity, same as the day before."
"Great," Woodsworth muttered to himself. All that lost sleep for nothing.
"Why does USNAVCENT want us to check out this POS island? Why aren't we helping out with the cleaning up operations in Suez?" the XO continued. The news from the Suez Canal kept getting worse by the day; first it was the ammunition ships, now an oil tanker was leaking oil everywhere, and was about to catch fire.
"XO, be patient, there's a reason for all of this," Woodsworth said to the XO. At least he had an officer who spoke his mind; those were few and far between, and those who were willing to challenge authority had a difficult time straddling the line between insubordination and sheer genius.
"I sure hope so, because they could use our help up there…"
"Sir!" A voice came from over the intercom near the captain's chair. "Message from USNAVCENT. It's urgent."
Woodsworth went over to the Combat Information Center, where the radio operator was writing something down. The CIC was the brains of the ship (the engines being the soul), and like the name said, all radar, sonar and other information necessary for the ship to fight effectively on the high seas would be channeled to that location in order for the captain of the ship to make the correct decisions about the situation at hand.
"Commander, they want us to move in and to make a full visual inspection of the island."
"Makes sense," he said. "We haven't been able to ascertain anything from radar scans. Anyone else joining us?"
"Yes, two frigates, F931 Louise-Marie, from Belgium and the HDMS Absalon, from Denmark."
"Alright, thank you." Woodsworth walked back to the bridge met his XO there.
"XO, we're going in to get a better look. Ten nautical miles out and close at half speed."
"Very well. Helm!"
The helmsman stood ready to receive new orders.
"Take us in, half speed, 30 degrees to starboard. I don't want to get surprised out there," he noted to the helmsman.
"Aye aye, half speed at 30 degrees to starboard." The helmsman made the adjustments, and the boat began to move toward its destination.
"When we're ten nautical miles out, run parallel to the island and do a radar sweep of the area," Woodsworth said, checking a map on a digital display.
"Understood," the XO replied.
"We won't be able to see anything until daybreak, but at least we might be able to get something on radar, or if we're lucky, maybe with our night-vision."
"Of course, sir."
It took them about an hour to close with the island. The crew had been woken up by an announcement from the Bridge to get to their posts, and to standby…to standby. This was an unhappy development for the crew's sleep cycle, but such was the nature of the US Navy. The crew mumbled on about being woken, grabbed some coffee from equally exhausted cooks, and hurried off to their action stations.
"USS Vantage, this is the Louise-Marie, good morning to you all," a heavily accented voice came over the radio. Woodsworth smiled at that; the Belgian's chirpiness was an impressive feat at this time in the morning. He took the radio near the Captain's chair and responded to the call.
"Morning Louise-Marie, this is the captain of the USS Vantage. How are you, over?"
It took a second for the Louise-Marie to respond. "We're doing fine. Uh…we're to your port side, about forty nautical miles away, over."
"They're there," the radar operator confirmed.
"Glad to hear that. Have you picked up anything from the island, over?"
Again, there was a slight pause as the captain on the other checked his instruments and asked the officer of the watch if anything had happened.
"That's a negative, USS Vantage. Nothing on radar, and no visual contact, over."
"Affirmative. Anything else, over?"
"Nothing on our end. What about you, over?" The concern of the Belgians was almost disconcerting, but after patrolling the high seas for a little bit, any human contact was much appreciated.
"Same story."
"Understood. Well, good luck, have a good one. We might put an away team to go ashore and check out the place," the Louise-Marie captain replied.
"Well, we could join you later, no need to go it alone. I'm not quite sure if USNAVCENT would allow the CTF to put people onshore."
"That's affirmative. Thanks, USS Vantage. Have a good one, out." The Louise-Marie terminated her conversation with the Vantage and continued on her patrol route.
Woodsworth turned to XO, who was looking at the island with binoculars again. "We'll get permission from USNAVCENT. I'm sure they won't mind; we haven't seen anything that might be dangerous, and I'm sure that they're keen on finding these Nakanishi guys. Plus, I've heard that they want to check the place out so they can land the Marines. That island is quite big and securing a foothold might be beneficial."
"Oooh," the XO replied. "That'll be something else."
"What's up?" the PMC commander for Socotra said, deep underground in one of the vast caves that had been dug in the last couple of years. These caves put NORAD to shame; instead of one mountain, there was an entire complex of tunnels, mirroring the Japanese defense of Iwo Jima. However, Iwo Jima was only 21 square kilometers, while Socotra was a whopping 3,796 square kilometers. Thanks to the business nature of the Nakanishi Group, from 2007 (when they conducted the Petroleum deal with Yemen) to 2013, the island had been fortified, with over a hundred kilometers of tunnels, connecting thousands of living quarters, medical facilities, research, and other things that the Nakanishi Group needed to keep secret.
"Sir, we've been keeping track of those CTF 151 and 152 ships that have sealed off this area, and three of them have moved in to about ten nautical miles of the coast. About ten more are moving within thirty nautical miles as well."
"Interesting," the PMC commander said, in his Russian accent. English was the de facto language spoken around here, as it needed to be amongst the international band of PMC soldiers. "Have they detected anything?"
"No, but I intercepted a radio conversation between two ships, err…the USS Vantage and a Belgian ship, the Louise-Marie."
"What were they talking about?"
"Well, one of them said that they might put an away team on the island."
"Shit." That was to be expected, and the PMC commander knew it was a matter of time before Allied forces started to put down troops to secure the area.
"What should I do, sir?"
"Give me a second. I have to confirm with Kunzite, but I think you're going to put those missile launchers to use."
"Of course."
The PMC commander reached for a phone nearby. "Put me through to Kunzite."
"Kunzite speaking." His voice was tired and lifeless; the death of Zoicite had been a hard blow to him especially, and he seemed to lose the luster and energy that he usually possessed. He had hoped beyond hope that Zoicite would make it back to Socotra, especially after he escaped the United Kingdom. But they…the SAILOR team and some other special forces units, had caught up to him in Florence, Italy. The spectacular gunfight had been broadcast live, and the mangled body of Zoicite was put out for all the world to see.
Kunzite wanted revenge, he wanted to strike back, he wanted people to die. But they had expended most of their capital on Operation TAKE HOLD, and now because of their mistakes, they were stuck in this god-forsaken island, able to operate indefinitely but not able to take the offensive. Now Kunzite was broken, and had been inconsolable even by Beryl.
"Kunzite," the PMC commander stated. "We have three incoming ships off of the coast at ten nautical miles, and ten more coming in at thirty. They're getting more brave, and I think it's time for more drastic measures."
Kunzite paused for a second, letting his platinum blond hair drape around his face and the telephone he was holding. This would be an excellent opportunity to show how the world that Nakanishi was still a force to be reckoned with, the fuckers. He could finally have some revenge for his lover's death, at least.
"Do it. Take them out, I don't care what it takes. Make sure they hurt."
"Affirmative." The PMC hung up the phone, and nodded to the radar operator. "Alright, get the automated defenses online, get the ready team to their posts."
"Roger that." The radar operator started making calls to the other personnel on the base, and soon, the hum of robots and automated missile launchers came online, ready to do their deadly work.
"Looks like the sun is finally coming up," the XO said, noting the rising sun in the distance.
"Very beautiful," Commander Woodsworth said. He stood there, taking the view. While it was winter here, there wasn't any snow like his home in Newport News, where he was stationed. The kids would be in bed right now, after a nice day out in the snow, with a big mug of hot cocoa with white fluffy marshmallows…
"USS Vantage, this is the HMDS Absalon, come in, over."
Woodsworth sighed, the daydream interrupted, picked up the receiver to his radio and replied to the other ship.
"Good morning Absalon, how are you doing this morning, over?"
"Very good," was the terse reply. It seemed that the Danes were in a more serious mood than the Belgians.
"That's…nice to hear. Have you seen or heard anything concerning the island, over?"
"Negative, Vantage, over." The Danes really weren't in a talking mood. Maybe they just needed coffee.
"Do you have anything else to report?" Woodsworth said.
"Negative, Vantage. We'll let you know if we see anything. Out." They cut the transmission.
"Talkative bunch," XO said to Woodsworth. "Hope they help us more if we get into a bit of a fix."
"Heh, I sure hope so." the Commander replied. "Helm, steady as she goes."
It was at this point that one of the radar operators started to see little blips fading in and out on his screen. He squinted a little bit harder at it, and tapped the screen.
"Uh…sir?" the radar operator said over the ship's intercom. "I'm getting…"
His screen suddenly lit up with thousands of contact. The stealth coating of the hidden radar and missile facilities on the island slid away as they prepared to acquire their targets.
"Oh…my…god."
"What is…" Woodsworth began to say, but stopped when he looked at the radar display. How was that possible?
"Sir, I'm getting a bunch of contacts that…"
Alarm klaxons suddenly went off. A blip on the radar screen suddenly appeared from the coast of the island. That could only mean one thing.
"Vampire vampire vampire! Missile Launch!" the radar operator screamed out. "Missile Launch!" On his screen, a missile popped up from nowhere and rapidly closed toward them. From the way it was bobbing in and out of his radar screen, it was probably an Exocet missile, infamous for its use during the Falklands War. The Exocet, after being fired, would hug the sea surface, no more than one meter above the waves, and pop up at the last second as to not give anti-missile defenses the chance to shoot it down. At the current range and speed, it would hit in about sixty seconds.
"Helm, bring us around and get us the hell out of here!"
"Yes sir!"
"General Quarters! All hands to battle stations!" Commander Woodsworth yelled into the ship's PA system. That was a redundant order, but they had not been expecting a combat operation, and certainly not a missile being launched in their direction.
"Jesus!" the XO hissed as he got into his flak jacket. "Get the vertical launch system ready!"
"Not enough time!" the weapons officer yelled back at him. "It'll take more than sixty seconds to get the missiles ready!"
Commander Woodsworth was in a bind; the anti-missile defenses that they depended on would not be ready and the other defenses they had might not work.
"Have the Seewhiz engage that missile when it's in range!"
"Forty seconds to impact!"
At this rate, the automated guns of the Phalanx Close in Weapons System (CIWS) would only have ten seconds to engage the target before it impacted with the USS Vantage.
It was the only thing that they had that would prevent that missile from destroying them at this point.
"Twenty seconds!" the radar operator announced.
"Helm, take us out of here!" Woodsworth screamed.
"I'm giving it all she's got, captain!" the helmsman yelled back.
Ha ha, very funny, Woodsworth sarcastically thought to himself.
"Ten seconds!"
The automated Phalanx CIWS guns opened up, their computers tracking the low flying Exocet zipping along the waves. The 20mm shells they were firing at 100 per second could obliterate a missile, let alone flesh and blood, provided that they could actually hit the target. Ironically, this was the exact reason CIWS had been developed; after the Falklands, Western navies realized that they needed something extra to combat anti-ship missiles like Exocet that hugged the sea and popped up at the last second. Weapon systems like Phalanx CIWS, Goalkeeper, and DARDO had been developed out of this need.
Brrrrrrrrmmmmmm! The two CIWS guns spat out their 20mm shells, firing 300 rounds apiece, and the missile was down, exploding harmlessly in the sea.
"Jesus," the XO said, exhaling. "What the hell was that?"
"It looked like an Exocet missile, sir," the weapons officer said to him.
"Sir, you need to go to the CIC. If anything else happens..."
"Second missile launch!" the radar operator yelled out.
"Shit, move sir!"
Woodsworth and the XO moved quickly to the CIC, leaving the bridge to the helm and other officers who would direct the fight from there. They quickly took their seats at their respective stations, and put on headphones to communicate with the rest of the crew.
"Captain, another missile has hit the Louise-Marie, and they're transmitting a distress signal," a comm officer said to him.
"Put it up on the radio!"
"USS Vantage, this is the Louise-Marie! We've been hit by an Exocet missile and are listing hard to port! We need assistance, over!"
Woodsworth "That is a negative Louise-Marie, we are under attack ourselves and cannot assist, over!"
"Affirmative USS Vantage, we'll try to…"
The radio cut out at that point.
"Sir," the radar operator said to Woodsworth. "The Louise-Marie just disappeared from radar." That revelation made it all but clear to the USS Vantage; the Nakanishi Group was heavily armed and would defend themselves extremely aggressively.
Woodsworth could hear the CIWS guns firing, and the Exocet missile fell short, ripped apart by the 20mm shells. There was nothing that could be done about the Louise-Marie.
The captain of the USS Vantage put in his fire ignition key and turned it, allowing the missiles from the vertical launch system to be fired. Now, they stood a chance.
"Looks like he's armed the vertical launch system," the radar operator noted back on Socotra.
"Won't be enough," the PMC commander noted.
"How many missiles do we have?"
"A lot, sir."
"As in?"
"10,000 Exocet missiles. Plus those Harpoons we have in back."
That was more than a lot of navies in the world could muster at one given time.
"Let's see how the USS Vantage does against fifty Exocet missiles. Fire!" The operator hit the release command, and dozens of white trails started to appear from the island.
"Sir…Sir!" the radar operator yelled out to the Commander.
"What is it?!"
"I've got fifty incoming contacts!"
The entire CIC was silent for a second, as the gravity of the situation hit everyone involved. Fifty missiles…somebody wanted them very, very dead. The blips on the radar screens cluttered together to form one, big mass. Only the computers could tell the individual missiles apart.
"Fire…fire!" Woodsworth stuttered. "Target everyone! Somebody fire!"
The fire control officer hit the fire button to the RIM-66 anti-missile/anti-air missiles. The USS Vantage carried ninety six of them in her vertical launch system, being an Aegis designed system. Within seconds, missiles started launching from the system, clouds of smoke from the ignited fuel propelling the missiles toward their intended targets obscuring the USS Vantage. Missiles screamed out of the launch bays, flying up into the air before turning toward their targets. The ship shuttered as the missiles flew off the rails, only to be quickly reloaded by the automated system for another launch. Just to make sure, two or three missiles were fired per target. The blips on the screen started to disappear, and at 10 nautical miles, the majority of the missiles had been destroyed.
The radio was filled with a huge volume of traffic, from the other ships in the area who had heard the distress calls of the Louise-Marie, and now the Absalon, who had taken several Exocet missiles.
"This is the HDMS Absalon!" her captain screamed over the radio, the calmness from before gone. "We're hit and going down! We're going down! Is there anyone for assistance?!"
"HDMS Absalon, we cannot assist," Commander Woodsworth answered, trying to keep his attention on the radar screen. "Is the ECM working? Good! Sorry Captain, we cannot render assistance to…"
"Captain!" his XO yelled out. He pointed to the screen.
Two missiles had gotten through. The first one, distracted by the chaff zipped off toward the aft of the ship and right into their ASW helicopters, two SH-60 Sea Hawks. Both were destroyed in a blaze of fire and smoke, rocking the entire ship and killing several crew members above decks.
The second one blitzed in, despite the Phalanx fire. It hit the starboard side and punched a large hole above the waterline, penetrating the armor and destroying some living quarters, a security station and part of the kitchen, but it avoided any essential parts of the Vantage. That still didn't mean that there was damage from the concussion and fire to engineering, the CIC, and navigation.
The explosion threw everyone to the ground, tossing chairs and computer around, smashing displays, and rupturing pipes. After lying on the floor for what it seemed like forever, Commander Woodsworth picked himself up.
"Damage report!" he screamed over the din of klaxons, cries for help, and his own ringing in the ears. "XO? XO?!"
"I'm here sir," his XO replied, coughing. His white uniform was stained with blood and soot. "Standby for damage report."
"Sir, there's several more ships in range," the radar operator stated.
"Target all of them. 100 missiles, ten per ship."
"On the way."
Within a minute, missiles flew off the rails on the concealed Socotra launchers fired toward the
ten ships from Task Force 151 and 152. They had heard and seen the fighting on their radar screens, and rushed into help. It was too late when they realized that they were going right into a trap. They had the same reaction of the USS Vantage when they discovered missiles flying toward them, cluttering up their radar screens and causing a panic among everyone there.
Most of the ships were approaching from the northeast of the island, from Yemen, while the USS Vantage, the late Louise-Marie and the HDMS Absalon were on the south side of the island. The missiles screamed in, powering through ECMs, anti-missile defenses, and chaff; most ships were not like the USS Vantage, and could not adequately defend themselves. It wasn't like the USS Vantage did much better anyway.
Again, CTF 151 and 152 were meant primarily for counter-terrorism/anti-piracy operations, and while smuggled anti-ship missiles were a concern, the most they ever had to deal with were RPGs and small arms fire from the bravely stupid pirates who preyed on the shipping lines. The only reason the USS Vantagehad stood a chance against the missiles is that it was on its way to a carrier group in the Indian ocean, and as such, armed for an anti-aircraft/missile role. The recent developments in the rest of the world had put an end to that mission as carrier groups came to them instead of the other way around.
Two of the most forward ships steaming in were hit by several missiles; the HMAS Warramunga and the TCG Gaziantep were each hit with two missiles apiece and disabled. A fire broke out on the Warramunga and threatened to overtake the magazine; quick thinking by damage control dumped the entire store into the sea before it could be overcome. Behind them was the HMS Portland, the USS Ramage, and the PNS Saif were ravaged by thirty Exocet missiles; seven of them found their mark, crippling the Portland, destroying the bridge on the Ramage, and obliterating the Saif, one of the new Zulfiquar class frigates that Pakistan had just put out. It exploded in a massive fireball, caused by the ammunition detonating after being struck by the Exocet. Slightly to the west of them, the Spanish frigate Reina Sofia, the TCG Giresun, and the USS Gettysburg fared slightly better, but still were damaged by the missiles, one putting the rudder of the Gettysburg out of action, causing her to sail haplessly around in circles. Finally, almost out of range of the Exocet missiles, the USS Chosen and HMNZS Te Mana were rocked by several near misses, but still suffered damage to their navigation equipment due to the proximity of the explosions.
In sum, Combined Task Forces 151 and 152 had just gotten their asses handed to them by solid piece of rock. The frantic calls of the ships trying to recover the crews of fallen ships resounded throughout the radio nets that day.
"I think we did some good damage today," the PMC commander said to Kunzite.
Kunzite said nothing to the PMC commander.
"Sir? Do you wish to hear the report?"
"No." His terse answer cut through the recycled air underground. "That will be all, Soshkin."
"Yes, sir." He saluted, and walked out of the ornate room that was Kunzite's office.
Kunzite swiveled his chair around to look at a picture of Zoicite. It had been taken several years earlier, when they were first dating; they were standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, with huge smiles on their faces. They had experienced plenty of discrimination in their lives, and now being Chief Operating Officers of a massive international company had been one big "fuck you" to the single-minded, discriminatory world out there. Beryl didn't really care who they were, so long as they did their jobs and got things done. Gay, bi, straight, asexual or pan-sexual, it didn't matter in her eyes. All that mattered was that the Nakanishi Group prospered and flourished. Sexual orientation had nothing to do with that at all.
"I will have my revenge," he said sadly at the picture.
"Commander," the XO reported. The CIC was somewhat damaged, but had come out mostly unscathed. Some computer screens cracked, some shattered hard drives, a couple of broken processing units, but nothing a little bit of elbow grease could fix.
"Causalities first," Woodsworth said.
"Sir, twenty dead, and seventy wounded, including both of us, sir."
That was almost a third of the ship's crew. Woodsworth sighed, knowing that in addition to all the paperwork he was going to have to fill out, the letters he was going to have to write to many a family was going to be a heartbreaking one.
The XO went on with the damage report. "Both helicopters are gone, the navigation radar is on the fritz, but both Phalanx CIWS are still online."
"What about the missiles?"
"We fired everything," the XO continued, reading off of an impromptu report, written up on some slightly bloodstained paper. "The entire magazine is empty, and if they decide to fire more missiles at us…"
"Let's hope they're just as low on ammunition as we are." He turned to the radio operator in the room. "Is the radio still working?"
"Yes sir."
"Put me through to COMUSNAVCENT," Woodsworth said. The radio operator took his time, trying to actually find a radio that worked.
At USNAVCENT HQ in Bahrain, there had been conflicting reports coming in all day. No one knew what was going on, and what little information they did have was inconsistent and scarce.
"Sir," a seaman addressed the commander of USNAVCENT, who was in his office, trying to make sense of just what the hell was going on near Socotra. POTUS, the JCS, SECNAV and every important acronym had been nagging at his raggedy ass for status reports. "We just a message from the USS Vantage, it's on the radio."
"Well, put it through!" the COMUSNAVCENT said. They needed something, anything that was going down on that infernal island. The KH-13 satellites wouldn't make another pass for an hour at least.
"Sir, sir, this is Commander Woodsworth of the USS Vantage," Woodsworth stated, trying to remain calm despite the chaos around them.
"What's your status?"
"Admiral, we've taken serious damage to our navigation, our helicopters our gone, all of missiles expended."
"Causalities?"
"Heavy," Woodsworth reported. He was still in the CIC, his wardroom damaged and the bridge in disarray. An able seaman ran up with another casualty report.
"Sir, we have thirty dead and ninety wounded," he said.
"What about the Louise-Marie and the Absalon?" Repeated hails had gone unanswered.
"I think they're both sunk, and we're in no position to assist any survivors in the condition we're in. We can barely make fifteen knots, and I don't know if they're going to attack again. We cannot continue operations."
"Understood. Can you make it back to base?"
"We'll try to go around Socotra and make it to Yemen, but that might take a couple of days at this rate. God knows what else they have there on that island."
"Thank you Commander," COMUSNAVCENT said back. "We'll try to get some help to you, but we're swamped here."
"Understood," the captain of the USS Vantage replied. He put the radio receiver down and leaned back against a desk that hadn't been destroyed.
Jesus, he thought. This was a very bad day.