Later that morning
Friday
New Year's Day 2016
The Bridge of the Atlantic Storm
Location: 50nm north of Buck Island
Position: 19.2616° N 64.5542° W
Course: 000°, Speed: 20 knots, 1,715nm logged
Time: 07:30
A little over two and half hours later, we were fifty nautical miles north of the island.
We had all thought it was over, but it was not – not by a long shot!
An alarm began to sound and a symbol flashed on the radar screen to the right of the helm console. It was the CPA or Closest Point of Approach alarm. The computer that drove the radar had calculated that a contact would pass within our two-mile buffer zone – in fact, the computer decided that the contact was on a collision course as it closed at over thirty knots from our port beam. It was intending to do us harm; my training and experience told me that. I reached under the helm console, slid back the protective cover and pressed the recessed button.
As soon as the small touchscreen keypad illuminated on the right hand portion of the console, I rapidly entered the eight-digit code and as before, the right hand of the four nineteen-inch touch-screens changed to a menu system with twelve options. I still found the purple tint that appeared around the menu amusing.
I selected option 1: 'BATTLE MODE'. Instantly a loud klaxon sounded throughout the Atlantic Storm.
..._...
'Battle Mode' made significant changes to the operation of the yacht. Firstly, the de-rated engines were restored to their full power rating, adding a few hundred extra horsepower to each of the engines. The engines were also permitted to be pushed way past the red-line for a limited period allowing bursts of almost thirty knots.
In addition, various electronic systems automatically came online – most of which were illegal for the average civilian vessel to carry. It was to be assumed that the advancing vessel was using its radar to track the Atlantic Storm from beyond visual range. As soon as the ESM system came online it immediately began to identify and prioritise any electronic emissions that it detected. I ignored the enormous returns from the distant warships' immense radars while the computer concentrated on the much closer and infinitely smaller radar of the converging contact as an imminent threat. With the press of a key, the ECM system began transmitting via a narrow beam on the exact same frequency of the approaching radar and on a much higher power setting, drowning it out. The advancing craft would be blind.
I advanced the twin throttles, increasing our speed to twenty-six knots.
Mindy and Dave arrived on the Bridge in response to the alarm that had just stopped sounding, just as an ESM alarm sounded from the console.
I turned to check the screen. An identical pair of radars as that which we had already detected were moving closer. I selected the ESM and set it to jam those radars, too. It was fairly obvious that two more high-speed craft were on a converging course. Mindy picked up a phone and called the Main Salon.
"Josh, get the kids down below into the crew quarters. Have Megan and Curtis break out the MP5s and stand guard."
The crew quarters in the bow were protected, both by the inbuilt strength of the bow and the layers of Kevlar armour in that part of the hull. As long as the kids remained in the central crew area, they would be safe. As I watched, Dave punched another code into the same keypad that Ryan and I had used previously, only this time a camouflaged hatch was released in the deck beside the helm.
Dave hauled out three G36K assault rifles with folded stocks and two magazines each. Chloe, wearing body armour appeared on the Bridge hauling a case of loaded magazines which she dumped onto the deck. She had another G36K strung over her back. She took six magazines and headed up to the Sun Deck where I knew Josh would be waiting with a Minimi.
We had to prevent them from boarding – if they did, it would all be over. We had no chance of sinking them, but we would try. Dave and I would man the Bridge wings while Ryan conned the yacht. Abby would assist Ryan.
We had all pulled on our body armour, again.
Time: 07:40
Somebody was obviously pissed at our destroying their operation!
How far were they willing to go to for revenge? Were they like me? I had allowed revenge to consume my childhood; were these people the same? My answer came quickly...
Tracer rounds reached out for us from the closest go-fast boat. Each of the 36-foot Rigid Inflatable Boats had a mounted heavy machine gun in the bow. They were ultra-manoeuvrable and targeting them at speed was not easy. We were in trouble and we needed help. I seized the radio handset and punched the button labelled '16', before pressing the transmit button.
"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is Atlantic Storm, Atlantic Storm, Atlantic Storm. Call sign Zulu Golf Charlie Sierra Seven. Break. Mayday! The vessel Atlantic Storm is located in position one-nine-decimal-two-six north, six-four-decimal-five-five west, course two-seven-zero, speed two-three knots. We are a British-flagged Motoryacht and we are taking fire from multiple unknown attackers and are in need of immediate assistance."
I released the transmit button.
HMS Dragon
Forty-five nautical miles to the southeast
Commander Richard Perrin turned in his chair as the bridge radio, tuned to Channel 16, jumped to life with every mariner's worst nightmare.
"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is Atlantic Storm..."
He recognised the female voice almost immediately, but the moment he heard the distressed vessel's name, he leapt into action.
"Bearing of that signal!"
"Three-one-seven, sir!"
"Officer of the Watch, alter course, three-one-seven, take us to twenty-six knots!"
"Aye, aye, sir – alter course three-one-seven and increase speed to twenty-six knots! Helm..."
The Officer of the Watch (OOW) passed the new orders to the helmsman while Commander Perrin continued issuing his own orders.
"Quartermaster, flying stations! Scramble the ready Wildcat!"
The Quartermaster began to issue commands over the ship-wide tannoy as the nine-thousand-ton destroyer heeled to port, altering its course to Starboard and her twin screws beat the wake into a raging white torrent as HMS Dragon accelerated like the thoroughbred she was. In every compartment aboard a speaker burst into life.
"For the alert flight crew, for the alert flight crew: scramble, scramble, scramble!"
..._...
Almost two hundred feet further aft, the pilot and observer ran out of the Wardroom, heading aft towards the flight deck where their helicopter awaited them. They immediately climbed aboard and strapped in as the flight deck crew began to remove the lashings securing the Agusta-Westland Wildcat HMA.2 helicopter to the flight deck.
The twin Rolls-Royce/Honeywell T800 turboshaft engines rapidly came to life with an increasing scream. Minutes later the rotors began to rotate, steadily increasing in speed. Within another two minutes the helicopter was cleared to launch and the pilot released the harpoon deck lock before the helicopter leapt into the sky.
The Wildcat translated to port to clear the destroyer's superstructure before dipping its nose and gaining forward speed, accelerating to over one hundred and sixty knots.
..._...
While the helicopter was launching, Commander Perrin tried a scare tactic.
"Atlantic Storm, Atlantic Storm, Atlantic Storm. This is British Destroyer Dragon, British Destroyer Dragon, British Destroyer Dragon. We are turning to assist, armed air support is launching and will arrive first."
It was hoped that the aggressors would hear the response and seriously consider whether or not to take on a state-of-the-art 9,000-ton destroyer in battle.
..._...
Ten minutes later, the Wildcat had made radar contact.
"Captain, PWO, Talon 376 is reporting four radar surface contacts. Interestingly, one of the contacts is actively jamming the other three. Even more perplexing is the fact that the jamming is coming from a Royal Navy Type 675 ECM, sir! The jamming contact has altered course in our direction, too, sir."
Commander Perrin chuckled as he muttered to himself, "Clever girl! Where did you get that from – definitely not Tesco!"
With the Atlantic Storm having turned towards them, they were now closing at almost fifty-knots. In forty-five minutes they would be in gun range. For now, the helicopter would have to run interference.
He then responded to his Principal Warfare Officer.
"Classify the jamming contact as the Atlantic Storm and confirm intent of the other vessels. Engage only on confirmation of belligerent intent."
Royal Navy Wildcat HMA.2
Call sign Talon 376
On a terse command from the pilot, the two crewmen aboard slid open each side door, locking them back and they readied their Browning M3M .50-calibre machine guns that were mounted in each side-door on a pintle mount. Each heavy machine gun had a hopper of 600-rounds ready to fire. The weapon could empty that hopper in less than a minute if required. The weapons were carried as they were more than capable of punching holes in boat engines and stopping a chase before it even began, but then the Wildcat was directly descended from the world's fastest and most agile helicopter, the Lynx, so a chase would be over very quickly anyway. The Wildcat could fly faster sideways than most go-fast boats could travel forwards!
The pilot observed the four craft heading in his direction. The largest was the 120-foot Atlantic Storm. She stood out, a pure white leviathan against the azure blue water as she cut through the waves at over twenty-five knots. The 190-ton vessel was able to cope with the ocean waves much better than the three much smaller go-fast boats that were harassing her.
The Atlantic Storm was zig-zagging every time that one of the other craft tried to line up a shot. Tracer rounds were evident coming from machine guns on the go-fasts. The pilot put his helicopter into a steep dive before buzzing the first go-fast at less than fifty feet. The crew ducked and then somebody did something very stupid – they opened fire on the Royal Navy helicopter.
"This is Talon 376; we are taking fire and declaring self-defence – engaging!"
The Atlantic Storm
Time: 08:05
Commander Ryan Bennett looked out of the bridge windows at the gratifying sight of the British maritime attack helicopter.
The staccato sound of the heavy machine guns engaging the attacking boats drowned out the lighter machine guns of the go-fasts and the gunfire from outside the bridge as Dave and Mindy engaged the go-fasts with their assault rifles and the heavier gunfire from the Sun Deck above being delivered by Joshua with Chloe's assistance. It was lucky that the armoured glass, required for ocean-going vessels, also had the unintentional side-effect of being bullet resistant! Nonetheless, there were still numerous chips in the glass.
He knew that support from HMS Dragon was coming – the Dragon's mast-top Sampson radar was being tracked by the ESM system as it topped the radar horizon. However, they had to get to within ten nautical miles for the Dragon to be able to engage with her 4.5-inch deck gun.
There was still seven miles to go – almost fifteen minutes.
Royal Navy Wildcat HMA.2
Call sign Talon 376
The pilot smiled as one of the go-fast boats exploded in a spectacular fashion.
He swore that he saw at least one body spinning across the wave tops – 'Fuck 'em,' he thought. He aimed his helicopter at the next boat, weaving as he avoided incoming tracer fire. That was fine; if they were firing at him, then they weren't firing at the civilian yacht. He was paid to be shot at; they were not, although he was not altogether certain about the 'civilian' status of the yacht, despite the defaced Red Ensign that flew from her stern.
As he observed the white yacht, he could see various crew members on the yacht firing weapons at the go-fast boats. On the upper deck, he could see a machine-gun in use and a girl firing an assault rifle. On the bridge wings, a man and a woman could be seen also engaging the attacking boats with assault rifles.
Only the previous day, he had flown the very same helicopter against drug-dealers on an island. His crewmen had engaged mercenaries and he had achieved an air-to-air kill; a rarity for a helicopter. He had also heard that a child had been kidnapped, which had been the catalyst for the attack and that was all the reasoning he needed to put his life on the line.
"Crew, coming around again, standby to attack..."
Time: 08:18
HMS Dragon
Twelve nautical miles to the southeast
Commander Richard Perrin was pacing his capacious bridge when word finally came in from his PWO that they were approaching gun range.
"Officer of the Watch, hands to Action Stations, if you please!" He ordered.
The General Alarm sounded, followed by the Quartermaster's voice: "Hands to Action Stations, hands to Action Stations!"
'What hornet's nest have you stoked up now, Mrs Lizewski!' he asked himself as his ship rumbled to the sound of many feet and the closing and securing of hatches.
..._...
A few minutes later, and with the precise targeting information provided by Talon 376, the firing sequence for the 4.5-inch gun began.
"Target correct..."
"Four five on, bearing red zero-six-eight, range eighteen-thousand yards..."
"Command approved, four five..."
"Four five, engage... Four five, shoot..."
The deck-gun on the destroyer's bow elevated and turned to port as a round slid smoothly into the open breech, which then slammed shut. With a loud bang and a lot of smoke, the gun fired, instantly ejecting the spent casing and loading another four-foot-long round.
The fired projectile ripped through the air at 2,850-feet per second – it would take just nineteen seconds to reach its target.
The Atlantic Storm
There was a ripping sound, like torn linen.
As Mindy watched, a water-spout appeared a few yards from one of the go-fast boats, soaking it in salt-water. Thirty seconds later another projectile ripped through the air and then another close behind. The go-fast was fighting for its life as it twisted and turned, then the craft seemed to stop before it came apart as it tried to occupy the same spot as the 114-millimetre diameter projectile. The explosion was spectacular as three-kilogrammes of RDX/TNT detonated on contact sending wreckage and body parts in all directions.
There was still one go-fast left and that quickly fell to the Wildcat helicopter, despite its violent manoeuvres and attempts to escape, as it blew up under the onslaught of .50-calibre rounds. Mindy breathed a huge sigh of relief, clearing her G36 and placing it on the deck. She watched as the British helicopter matched the Atlantic Storm's speed and course, the pilot showing off as he flew backwards at twenty-six knots!
"Atlantic Storm, Atlantic Storm, this is Talon 376 on your starboard beam, over!"
"Talon 376, Atlantic Storm. All clear, no injuries, nice flying. Over."
Mindy entered the bridge just as I finished responding to the helicopter.
"Area is clear. We will shadow you till mother arrives, Talon 376, out."
Mindy looked over at me, then at the bullet marks on the windows. That annoyed her! She grabbed a phone and punched the tannoy button.
"Stand down, stand down, return all weapons and report damage to the bridge."
Mindy was all business – and I thought I was a hard Captain! Thankfully nobody had been hurt in the attack – only Mindy's pride.
"Thank you, Ryan – you threw this tub around like a pro!" Mindy grinned.
"Not the first time I've been under attack!" I replied.
Twenty minutes later, HMS Dragon hove into sight, a giant White Ensign flying from its yards.
By then, all weapons had vanished from sight and the casings of all expended rounds had been cleared away. Within minutes of the British destroyer taking up station to port, a boat delivered a package from Commander Perrin. The package had details of a layover point.
We were to follow him to an island – an island that was unnamed on our charts!