Kirov Saga Men of War - By John Schettler Page 0,145
doing some reading lately, Ensign? It doesn’t matter where the damn ship was last time you looked. It’s right here and about to get in our face. Alright, you can leave that pad with me and get the hell out of here. I’ve got some thinking to do and I damn well won’t need you around for that.”
“Yes, sir. Aye, sir.” Pyle scrambled off to some other duty and the Captain grinned as he went. Krivak class frigates. He looked at his Weapon Systems Officer, Lieutenant Deaken, sometimes called “the “Wizzo” by the bridge crew, a handle they had stolen from the air force brats. “Say, Deke. What kind of AA umbrella are these old Krivaks going to be packing? It’s been a few years.”
Deaken checked his status board, calling up the ship class and checking the data readout. “Looks to be a box of SA-N-4 Geckos, sir. Range under ten miles and a ceiling under Angels forty. Good warhead, 16kgs with a five meter frag radius. But they won’t be bothering our air wing with those, sir. That’s just missile bait.”
“Pretty damn thin cover for the Russkie’s only CV. No wonder they sortied with that surface action group.”
“Aye, sir.”
“What should we be worried about here, Deke?”
“Those damn S-300s on Kirov, sir. 150 kilometer range and fast as greased lightning.”
“Damn annoying,” said Tanner. “Our Harpoons can range out that far over the horizon, but S-300s can be on them in no time.”
Neither Deke nor Tanner knew anything about the missile upgrade Kirov had received before sailing from the Golden Horn Harbor. Her forward silos now harbored the more advanced S-400F Triumf system, extending that engagement range even farther to 400 kilometers.
“They can, indeed, sir. And don’t even think about the Tomahawks. Too damn slow. They pulled TASM from ship inventories long ago, and good riddance. Thing is, the Russians make some pretty mean SSMs. This new Sunburn-II is a real threat, and their Starfires are even faster.”
Tanner turned to his radar man. “Bougie, how far out is that SAG centered on Kirov?”
“Feed from Misawa has ‘em at about 800 nautical miles now sir. Hawkeye confirms….Hello?….What’s up here?” Ensign Bogue was poking at his SATCOMM link panel. “Sir, I just lost data link on our GPS Satellite. Checking it now, but I’m completely red on that link, sir. I don’t think it’s a local system failure.”
Tanner didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit. “Someone taking pot shots at our satellites?”
“I’ll check SIGINT traffic. Nothing on my board, sir…Wait a second. Coming in now, sir. Confirmed ASAT strike at zero nine forty. Red Arrows.”
Tanner set his jaw, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to take some rather direct action now, and very soon. “That makes this thing hot for us as well as the Japanese,” he said. “Well that’s all I was waiting on, gentlemen. We’re not sitting on 104,000 long tons of steel out here to get a suntan. Get the Air Boss on the line and have him spot the Royal Maces ASAP. Diamondbacks on deck with the Dambusters in the number three hole. Eagles batting cleanup.”
“Aye sir, spot for strike, sir, Maces and Snakes leading off.”
Strike Fighter Squadron 27, the Royal Maces, were still flying F/A 18E Super Hornets, but the plane was more than capable with new avionics and added stealth features over the years, even though it was schedule for replacement by the F-35s. The squadron had been flying since 1967, with A-7 Corsairs over the skies of Vietnam. They fought all through the 1970s in Nam, provided top cover for the Iran hostage rescue attempt in 1980, then received their first Hornets in 1991 in time for the first Gulf War. Twenty years ago they were in action over Afghanistan after 9/11and the Second Gulf War. One thing the US Navy had was experience, with more raw combat hours logged than every other navy on earth combined.
As Tanner was thinking the situation over Ensign Bogue suddenly had another surprised look on his face. “Sir, I have a radio message hail from the Russians. Right in the clear!”
“What is this a phone call from Moscow?”
“No sir. It’s that Surface Action Group up north. I’ve got their CO on the line. Their Comm Officer is translating to English.”
Tanner raised his eyebrows. “Well I’ll be damned.”
Chapter 36
Nikolin translated as best he could. “Good morning, Captain. How can I assist you?” He was conveying the American Captain’s words, and looked at Karpov, waiting for