Operation White Out, page 29
“Conn, Sonar. We have reacquired Chángzhēng four one-five miles off our starboard bow and Sierra-one-six-seven, the Zhaotong, broad off the starboard beam at fifteen miles. She’s doing about thirty knots.”
USS TEUTHIS—OFF THE SOUTHERN COAST OF TAIWAN
Relying on California and Elliot to keep Chángzhēng 4 off our ass, we turned directly toward Kaohsiung City harbor. We approached at 150 feet until the bottom was only 100 feet below us. Wilbur had the watch.
“Sonar, list your contacts.”
“Hi Bào and Qiántng Yóuchuán Èr five degrees off the starboard bow at five miles on the surface, Chángzhēng four, California, and Elliot at zero-nine-zero, six miles, and Zhaotong, at zero-nine-five, ten miles, closing fast. In addition, we are surrounded by twenty-three small vessels, none closer than five miles.”
Wilbur ordered, “Diving Officer, make your depth six-five feet—periscope depth.”
As he gave the order, the skipper showed up on the periscope stand and manned the nav scope. Wilbur took the attack scope. Both Wilbur and the skipper rotated their scopes so they each would get a clear 360 degree view of the surface as the sub rose.
“Clear,” Wilbur said—he had the higher scope.
“Clear,” the skipper said.
“Chief-of-the-watch, surface the ship!” Wilbur ordered.
Chief Panner announced on the 1MC, “Surface! Surface! Surface!” followed by three long Aoogahs! from the klaxon.
Teuthis burst through the surface, first the sail and then the sub itself. Wilbur and his lookouts were ready to climb to the bridge. I looked at the skipper. He nodded.
“XO has the Conn,” I announced as Wilbur and his lookouts clambered to the bridge.
Three minutes later, the squawk box was hooked up and Wilbur announced, “Lieutenant junior grade Wilbur O’Hara has the Deck and the Conn.”
The skipper donned a jacket, slipped a set of binocs around his neck, and climbed to the bridge. I followed.
Rain was falling under a dark overcast. Even with my binocs, I could not make out the running lights of Hi Bào and Qiántng Yóuchuán Èr, just off the starboard bow, according to radar. I could clearly see California and Elliot off the starboard beam. All around us I saw the twinkling lights of scores of small craft still plying the waters off southern Taiwan—even past 2200.
“Bridge, Radio. Urgent message from California. Chángzhēng four has surfaced and is preparing to launch a missile. It appears to be aimed at the tanker.”
“Skipper, she cannot launch submerged,” I said.
The skipper grunted, binocs at his eyes. “Patch Radio to the bridge,” he ordered.
Over the squawk box we heard, “Missile launch!”
The sky near California flashed bright white, followed by a humpback exhaust trail as the ChiCom missile first rose and then dropped to near the water surface.
Over the squawk box: “SAM launched!”
From the darkness near California’s running lights, a surface-to-air missile streaked into the sky and then dropped to chase the ChiCom missile. Ten seconds later, a bright flash halfway between California and Qiántng Yóuchuán Èr telegraphed that the ChiCom missile had been destroyed.
Over the squawk box: “Chángzhēng four diving! Several torpedoes launched!”
“Captain has the Conn. Clear the bridge!” the skipper ordered. “Crash dive the sub!”
This was not something we normally did, but the crew knew what to do.
Aoogah! Aoogah! Sounded throughout the sub. “Dive! Dive!” the COW announced on the 1MC.
The lookouts, Wilbur, and I, dropped to Control followed by the skipper.
“Green board,” the COW announced.
“How deep is the bottom?” the skipper asked, followed by, “Set General Quarters!”
“Two-five-zero feet,” Panner said. “drops to three-zero-zero-zero feet two miles behind us.” Then he sounded the general alarm and announced, “General quarters! General quarters! All hands, man your battle stations.”
“Helmsman, left full rudder, come to new course one-eight-zero. Make turns for ten knots. Diving Officer, drop to one-five-zero feet. As soon as the bottom is three-zero-zero-zero feet, go to thirty degree down bubble, and make your depth one-zero-zero feet.”
“Conn, Sonar. Three torpedoes in the water! One heading our way!”
“Plot, work a solution on Chángzhēng four, wire guided.”
“Passing three-zero-zero feet,” from Chief Oberst, the Diving Officer.
“Sonar, where’s the layer?” the skipper asked.
“Six-zero-zero feet, Sir.”
Over the 1MC, the skipper said, “Torpedo, launch decoy at five-five-zero feet.” The phone talker repeated the skipper’s order over the sound-powered phone circuit.
“Captain, we have a solution on Chángzhēng four.”
“Torpedo, stand by to shoot two.”
“Passing six-one-zero feet.”
“Torpedo, shoot two!”
“Conn, Torpedo. Number two is on its way!”
“Sonar, is Chángzhēng four above or below the layer?” the skipper asked.
“He dropped below after firing his torpedoes, Sir.”
“At one-zero-zero-zero feet, Sir,” Chief Oberst reported.
“On course one-eight-zero,” the Helmsman reported.
“Sonar, keep close track on Chángzhēng four,” the skipper said.
“Sonar, Aye. Chángzhēng four is cycling above and below the layer.”
“Sonar, Fire Control needs to know exactly where Chángzhēng four is in real time.”
A loud explosion above and behind us told us the ChiCom torpedo had destroyed itself against our decoy. A quiet cheer went through Control.
“The forty-eight acquired the target!” Fire Control said.
“Chángzhēng four just moved above the layer,” Sonar said.
“Still tracking,” Fire Control said.
“Back below the layer,” from Sonar.
“The forty-eight dipped below the layer after her,” Fire Control said.
Sonar: “Back above.”
Fire Control: “Tracking.”
Sonar: “Chángzhēng four launched a loud decoy.”
Fire Control: “The forty-eight knows the difference…still tracking…” followed by a loud boom. “Got you, you sonofabitch!”
“Conn, Sonar. It’s a real mess out there. California and Elliot are taking evasive actions to avoid Chángzhēng four’s torpedoes. Zhaotong is approaching their position three miles from them. Chángzhēng four is sinking, but I detect no implosion. She’s in about one-one-zero-zero feet of water. Her test depth is about one-zero-zero-zero feet. She must be on the bottom, but with intact hull.”
USS TEUTHIS—DSRV OPS OFF THE SOUTHERN COAST OF TAIWAN
We hovered at a thousand feet with the bottom fifteen hundred feet below us, sorting things out. We were undamaged, as apparently were California and Elliot. Zhaotong was closing in on our warships, but was no match for either, let alone both. Hi Bào and Qiántng Yóuchuán Èr were, presumably, safely tied up in Kaohsiung City harbor. A crippled Chángzhēng 4 with an unknown number of survivors lay on the bottom at 1,100 feet, about a hundred feet deeper than her test depth. For her crew, it was a critical situation.
The skipper picked up the 1MC mike. “This is the captain. We just underwent an event that none of us ever wanted to experience, but because of the fine performance of each of you, we survived it unscathed. I am incredibly proud to be your commanding officer.
“We still have some unfinished business before us. The ChiCom sub that attacked us is lying on the bottom in eleven hundred feet of water, disabled but intact. We will coordinate with the Taiwanese Navy to attempt a rescue of the surviving crew of that submarine. Some of you may not like this, but remember, their crew attacked us under orders, as you did under mine. The battle is over. We prevailed. Now it’s time to let American humanity overcome any reluctance we might have to extend a helping hand.”
We communicated with California via Gertrude. California contacted the Taiwanese naval authorities in Kaohsiung City and CinCPacFlt in Pearl. In less than an hour, two Taiwanese corvettes arrived from Kaohsiung City and escorted Zhaotong outside Taiwan’s territorial waters. Even though Zhaotong had been commissioned only three years earlier, she was incapable of holding her own against even one Taiwanese corvette, let alone two, backed up by the two American warships.
Getting permission from CinCPacFlt to undertake a rescue of the surviving Chángzhēng 4 crew was no mean feat. We found out later that the matter went all the way to the president. Within three hours, however, permission came through the chain of command. Teuthis would attempt a rescue with Mystic and deliver the survivors to a Taiwanese corvette that would take an active part in the rescue operation. What the Taiwanese did with the survivors after that was not part of the agreement. ComSubPac, R. Adm. Michael Colley, boarded his personal jet the moment the request came through. He expected an affirmative response and wanted to be present for the rescue and to meet with Cmdr. Lonie Franken-Ester and myself for the ceremony in Kaohsiung City.
I found it surprisingly easy to coordinate the rescue attempt. Hi Bào skipper Tiong-hāu Zhang Min arrived aboard the corvette to coordinate the surface actions. The skipper put me in charge of the actual underwater rescue attempt, not because he wasn’t capable, but because I had been there and done that several times before, and he was sufficiently savvy to make use of his best resources. I admired him for that. Zhang Min arranged for an interpreter, oddly named George Baker, to join us before we undertook the rescue, since no one knew whether anyone on Chángzhēng 4, spoke English. He was the son of Taiwanese expats, who grew up in California, but returned to Taiwan as an adult, joined the Taiwanese navy, and reached the rank of Siōng-ùi, the equivalent of an American navy lieutenant.
Colley arrived just as we were ready to launch Mystic. A Taiwanese chopper brought him to California, but within five minutes, he decided he wanted to be aboard the Taiwanese corvette with Tiong-hāu Zhang Min. And as everyone knows, when an admiral wants something, he usually gets it.
The corvette had established communications with the stricken ChiCom sub. Her engineering compartments were flooded, but forty-eight of her seventy-five member crew, including four officers and the captain, had survived. The sub rested in 1,100 feet of water, bow-down on a twenty-degree slope, heeled to starboard by thirty degrees. According to the survivors, their air was radiation free.
Following Zhang Min’s instructions from the corvette, on the first trip, three officers not including the captain and twenty-one crew were to strip fully naked, and each was to be washed down with a bucket of fresh water. They would be checked for alpha particles and restrained hand and foot as they entered Mystic.
Franklin moved Teuthis to within 500 yards of the stricken sub, extended the struts, and bottomed on a level spot at 900 feet.
Lt. Robert Taggert and Lt. James Deckhart took their respective seats in Mystic’s Control Sphere. Siōng-ùi George Baker joined me in the Mid Sphere. I carried my Walther in a shoulder holster under my navy aviator jacket. Sonar Senior Chief Gaspard Abelé from Mystic and Sonar Chief and Master Diver Bill Fisher accompanied us, both carrying .45s in shoulder holsters.
George was visibly excited. He had never been aboard a submarine and had only read about DSRVs. This was proving to be an adventure of a lifetime for him. Interestingly, he had never heard of me before. From his perspective, I was just another US Navy officer with more balls than brains.
Taggert lifted us off Teuthis and pointed in the general direction of the downed ChiCom sub. At this depth, the water was pitch black, but sonar easily picked up Chángzhēng 4. In three minutes, Mystic hovered over her forward hatch. Taggert carefully matched the down-angle and heel, and settled Mystic against Chángzhēng 4’s rescue ring. Abelé pumped the skirt down and opened Mystic’s lower hatch.
I stood up. “We’ve been here before, people. These guys don’t play by the same rules as we do.” I looked directly at Baker. “That’s why we have taken such extreme measures. Siōng-ùi Baker, remain in the Mid Sphere fully back out of the way. Do not, I repeat, do not let any of the crew close enough to grab you. Do your translating from your secure position. Any questions?”
“What if one of them goes crazy, or they gang up on us?”
“Not likely, Siōng-ùi. Just do as I say.”
“Time to talk with them,” I said. “Siōng-ùi, as I speak to you, transmit my words to them in Chinese while I speak. As they respond, simultaneously give me their words in English.”
Baker nodded understanding.
On the regular Gertrude, through Baker I transmitted, “Chángzhēng four, this is rescue mini-sub, Over.”
Following a short pause, we heard, “This is Chángzhēng four,” as translated by Baker.
“We are attached to your forward hatch. A skirt between our lock and yours is pumped dry and filled with air at one bar. On my signal, open your hatch and allow your air to mix with the air in the skirt. After five minutes, shut your hatch and notify me.”
“This is Chángzhēng four, understood.”
We could hear their hatch open. After five minutes, we heard it close and received their notification.
“This is Chángzhēng four, we have followed your instructions.”
“Stand by while we test your air.”
I turned to Abelé. “Okay, Senior Chief, do your thing!”
Abelé opened our hatch sufficiently to let him drop a sensor inside the skirt and pushed the hatch down without securing it. I kept an eye on the monitor. When it stabilized, I said, “Okay, Senior Chief, remove the sensor.”
He did and sealed the hatch.
I looked at the monitor. “Air is clean,” I said, “but it’s gonna smell.”
Abelé undogged our hatch and allowed it to open on its spring.
“Okay, Siōng-ùi, tell them to follow their instructions.”
Baker transmitted my words, “Divide into two groups—group one with three officers and twenty-one crew. Remove all clothing. Before each person climbs the ladder, douse him with fresh water. Send an officer up first.”
“Chángzhēng four acknowledges your instructions.”
I said to Taggert, “Isolate the Control Sphere.”
He closed and dogged the hatch.
“Open your hatch,” Baker transmitted to Chángzhēng 4.
As the hatch opened into the skirt, a foul odor penetrated into the Mid Sphere. An officer stood below the hatch and said something in Chinese.
Behind me, Baker translated, “I am the Executive Officer. The air is clean. We do not need to strip and wash down.”
I answered and Baker translated, “Strip immediately in front of me. If you do not comply, I will shut the hatch and we will go away and not return.”
The officer looked at me with hatred-filled eyes and stripped off his clothing. I heard milling around and presumed that the others were stripping. Someone splashed a bucket of water on the officer, much to the amusement of the Chinese crew. He scowled, and the tittering stopped. I motioned him up. As his shoulders appeared, I said, “Turn around, hands behind your back.” Baker translated.
The officer complied, and I slipped plastic ties around his wrists. Before he was fully inside the Mid Sphere, I told him to stop and placed ankle ties with six inches of shuffle leeway on his legs. Fisher escorted the shuffling officer into the Rescue Sphere, sat him, and tie-wrapped his feet to a tiedown.
I opened my jacket to display my Walther and addressed him directly through Baker. “As each of your crew enters Mystic, you will order him to obey absolutely. If any crew member fails to follow an order from me, I will shoot him and then you. Do you understand?”
He answered, “Shì de,” meaning yes. Then he added, “I understand English, you bastard!” and he spat at me.
I reached into my jacket and said quietly, “One more outburst and you die.” We locked eyes, and then his face dropped as he acquiesced.
One by one, the two remaining officers and twenty-one crew members entered Mystic and were cuffed like the XO. As each person appeared, the XO directed his total compliance with my orders, as translated by Baker.
After the twenty-first crew member entered Mystic and was attached to the others in the Rescue Sphere, the CO placed himself below the hatch. In a strangely déjà vu moment, he addressed me in English.
“Commander, I am deeply grateful that you are rescuing me and my surviving crew. I have a request.”
Someone handed him a canvas bag. “In this bag are the swords of my four surviving officers and my own. Would you accept them as my gesture of good will and my surrender?”
“Retain them until I return, Captain. We will be gone an hour or more.”
They closed their hatch and we ours, flooded the skirt, and pulled back from Chángzhēng 4. On the Gertrude, we announced to the corvette we were coming to the surface. The corvette lowered a beacon on a line fifty feet below her keel. Taggert followed it, and shortly we were off the corvette’s side, ready to surface. Taggert brought us up and stabilized us on the surface. The water had a one-foot chop, nothing Mystic couldn’t handle. The corvette was a hundred yards off our bow. She had lowered an accommodation ladder32 to the surface to facilitate our unloading the survivors.
I climbed through the hatch. About twenty feet outboard of Mystic, Borysko suddenly appeared. Although an Orca’s features are expressionless, as he came alongside and lifted himself into the air, I could tell from his plaintive sounds that he was worried. I reached out to him, and he arched his six-ton body toward my hand, keeping himself high with thrusts of his tail. Borysko touched my hand with his tongue and then dropped back into the water. I glanced up at the corvette. The crew lined her starboard side gawking at the Orca.
Taggert brought us alongside the platform, and I jumped off the DSRV and secured us to a cleat with a light line that would part should the accommodation ladder suddenly decide to rise. Borysko approached the platform, watching the proceedings closely.
