Debt Of Honor by Clancy, Tom

coming south. Two P-3C Orion anlisiib aircraft were approaching as well,

but the helicopter would get in first, carrying two torpedoes. That aircraft

was coming in at two hundred feet, without its look-down radar on, but with

flashing strobes that looked very bright in Richter’s headset.

“Sure is busy here,” Kichtcr said. He wan ul five himtlirtl (eel, with a new

target just on the hori/on. “Pit CRI-W, this in INIO I i M», we have another

chopper in the neighborhood.”

“Splash him!”

“Copy that.” Richter increased speed for Im inlei\r|H Hie Navy didn’t

have any problems making decisions. The closure upml mmninlccd a rapid

intercept. Richter selected STINGER and fired at five inilcn Wln»e\ei H was,

he didn’t expect hostile aircraft in the area, and the cold wmei iimler him

made a fine contrast background for the heat-seeking missile The Sruhawk

spun in, leaving Richter to wonder if there might be survivor*, Hut he didn’t

have the ability to perform a rescue, and didn’t close in to .sec.

-Two was up now, and took the protective orbit position, allowing tin-

leader to turn for the rendezvous. He gave the submarine a low saluting pass

and headed off. He had neither the fuel nor the time to linger.

‘ ‘You realize we’re an aircraft carrier?” Ken Shaw asked, watching the deck

crew finishing up refueling for the third and last visitor. “We scored kills

and everything.”

“Just so we live long enough to be a submarine again,” Claggett replied

tensely. As he watched, the canopy came down and the crewmen started

securing topside. Two minutes later his deck was nearly clear. One of his

chiefs tossed extraneous gear over the side, waved to the sail, and disap-

peared down the capsule hatch.

“Clear the bridge!” Claggett ordered. He took one last look around

before keying the microphone one last time. “Take her down.”

“We don’t have a straight board yet,” the Chief of the Boat objected in

the attack center.

“You heard the man,” the officer of the deck snapped back. With that

command the vents were opened and the main ballast tanks flooded. The

topside bridge hatch changed a second later from a circle to a dash, and

Claggett appeared a moment later, closing the bottom-end hatch to the

bridge, making a straight board.

“Rigged for dive, (let us out of here!”

“That’s a submarine,” the Lieutenant said. “Diving-venting his tanks.”

“Range?”

“I have to go active for that,” the sonar officer warned.

“Then do it!” Ugaki hissed.

“What are those Hashes?” the copilot wondered. They were just over the

horizon to the left of their flight path, no telling the distance, but however far

away they were, they were brighl, and one lurnccl into a slrcak thai coniclcd

down inlii the sea. More streaks cruplcd in the darkness, lines of ycllow-

wluie gt’inj; mainly right-to-left. That made it clear. “Oh.”

SIIIJMII Approach, ihis is JAL Seven-Oh-Two, two hundred miles out.

u ltit|>|x’itmg. over?” There was no reply.

“Krliini lo Narita?” the copilot asked.

“Nil1 Nn, we will noi do that!” Torajiro Sato replied.

ll w«» n lulnilr lo Ins professionalism that rage didn’t quite overcome his

imininn He’d uheady dodged two missiles to this point, and Major Shiro

Suiti tliil not panic despite the ill-luck that had befallen his wingman. His

rudrtf »ttnwr«l mote ihan twenty targets, just out of missile range, and though

M»WC iHhen nl hit squadron mates had fired their AMRAAMs, he wouldn’t

uniil IK- hud a Ix-tiei chance. He also showed multiple radars tracking his

uirirntl, but llieie was no helping that. He jerked his Eagle around the sky,

tukiiiu haul turn* iind heavy gees as he closed on burner. What had begun as

un organi/rd bwitle was now a wild melee, with individual fighters entirely

on thru own, like samurai in I he darkness. He turned north now, selecting

the ncarrM blip* I he IFF systems automatically interrogated them, and the

answer w»» nol wlwt he expected. With that Sato triggered off his fire-and-

forgel miMilev then turned back sharply to the south. It wasn’t at all what

he’d hoped tot, not ,\ lint light, skill against skill in a clear sky. This had been

a chaotic eiuounlei in darkness, and he simply didn’t know who had won or

lost. He had lo linn mid tun now. (‘mirage was one thing, but the Americans

had drawn them out * Disengage now. I say again, disengage

now!” Sanche/ was well behind the action now, wishing that he were in his

Hornet instead of the larger Tomcat. Acknowledgments came in, and though

he’d lost a few aircraft, and though the battle had not been entirely to his

liking, he knew that it had been a sun ess. He headed north to clear the area,

checking his fuel state. Then he saw strobe lights at his ten o’clock and

turned further to investigate.

“Jesus, Bud, it’s an airliner.” his radar-intercept officer said. “JAL

markings.” That was obvious from the siyli/,ed red crane on the high tailfin.

“Better warn him off.” Sanche/ turned on his own strobes and closed

from the portside. “JAL 747, JAL 747, lliis is U.S. Navy aircraft to your

portside.”

“Who are you?” the voice asked over the guard frequency.

“We are a U.S. Navy aircraft. Be advised there is a battle going on here. 1

suggest you reverse course and head back home. Over.”

“1 don’t have the fuel for that.”

‘ ‘Then you can bingo to Iwo Jima. There’s a field there, but watch out for

the radio tower southwest of the strip, over.”

“Thank you,” was the terse reply. “I will continue on my flight plan.

Out.”

“Dumbass.” Sanchez didn’t put on the air, though his backseater fully

agreed. In a real war they would have just shot him down, but this wasn’t a

real war, or so some people had decided. Sanchez would never know the

magnitude of his error.

“Captain, that is very dangerous!”

“Iwo Jima is not lighted. We’ll approach from the west and stay clear,”

Captain Sato said, unmoved by all that he’d heard. He altered course to the

west, and the copilot kept his peace on the matter.

“Active sonar to starboard, bearing zero-one-zero, low-frequency, probably

a sub.” And that was not good news.

“Snapshot!” Claggett ordered at once. He’d drilled his crew mercilessly

on this scenario, and the boomers did have the best torpedomen in the fleet.

“Setting up on tube four,” the weapons petty officer answered. On com-

mand, the torpedo was activated. “Flooding four. Tube four is flooded.

Weapon is hot.”

“Initial course zero-one-zero,” the weapons officer said, checking the

plot, which didn’t reveal much. “Cut the wires, set to go active at one thou-

sand!”

“Set!”

“Match and shoot!” Claggett ordered.

“Fire four, four away!” The sailor nearly broke the firing handle.

“Range four thousand meters,” the sonar officer reported. “Large sub-

merged target, beam aspect. Transient-he’s launched!”

“So can we. Fire one, fire two!” Ugaki shouted. “Left full rudder,” he

added the moment the second tube was clear. “Ahead flank!”

“Torpedo in the water. Two torpedoes in the water, bearing zero-one-zero.

Ping-and-listen, the torpedoes are in search mode!” sonar reported.

“Oh, shit. We’ve been here before,” Shaw noted, recalling an awful ex-

pcricniT on DSS Maine. The Army officer ahoari! and his senior sergeant

htid (list come into the attack center to thank the Captain for his part in the

helicopter mission. They stopped cold on the portside, looking around and

seeing the tension in the compartment.

“Six-inch room, launch decoy, now!”

“Launching now.” There was slight noise a second later, just a jolt of

compressed air.

“We have a MOSS set up?” Claggett asked, even though he’d given or-

ders for exactly that.

“Tube two, sir,” the weapons tech replied.

“Warm it up.”

“Done, sir.”

‘ ‘Okay.” Commander Claggett allowed himself a deep breath and time to

think. He didn’t have much, but he had some. How smart was that Japanese

fish? Tennessee was doing ten knots, not having had rudder or speed orders

after submerging, and was at three hundred feet of keel depth. Okay.

“Six-inch room, set up a spread of three canisters to launch on my com-

mand. ”

“Standing by, sir.”

“Weps, set the MOSS for three hundred feet, circling as tight as you can

at this depth. Make it active as soon as it clears the tube.”

“Stand by … set. Tube is flooded.”

‘ ‘Launch.”

“MOSS away, sir.”

“Six-inch room, launch now!”

Tennessee shuddered again, with three decoys ejected into the sea along

with the torpedo-based lure. The approaching torpedo now had a very attrac-

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