The question now is just what kind of force to use. A carrier airstrike, long a favorite of presidents, risks the possible loss of aircraft and the death and/or capture of the aircrews. Use of F-117As, so successful and invulnerable during Desert Storm, requires the cooperation of a friendly government in the region to provide basing. And use of long-range B-2As flying directly from a U.S. base, such as Diego Garcia, would place at risk the crown jewels of the Air Force’s Air Combat Command. All for taking out a couple dozen fighter-bombers whose net worth would not pay for a single lost B-2A. Surface vessels could launch a TLAM strike but would be sitting there visible after the strike. Clearly what is needed is something discreet and safe for the American attackers. That something may well be a submarine-launched TLAM strike.
To render the airfield useless and destroy the Su-24 Fencers and Kh-35s will probably take between twenty-four and thirty-six TLAMs. Thus a pair of VLS-equipped Los Angeles-class boats will be needed to deliver the missiles. If submarines with the necessary numbers and types of missiles are not already in place, the missiles can be delivered to the boats at a forward base or tender. In addition to the missiles, the submarines will take delivery of the computerized mission plans developed at one of the Theater Mission Planning Centers (TMPCs). This plan, which can be used as is or updated via a satellite link, will have been designed to put the maximum number of TLAMs over the target airfield in the shortest duration possible. It should be noted that not one TLAM will be aimed at the runways. This is because, as Desert Storm proved, it makes little sense to attack concrete, which is quite easy to repair. Destroy an airplane, it is gone forever. And that is the goal of the planned strike.
The run-in to the target probably can be on the coast of the Indian Ocean, though USS Topeka (SSN-754) recently operated inside the Persian Gulf itself. The 688Is stand off the coast at a range of 50 to 100 miles and await the firing orders from Washington. Once these come, the firing times and time-on-target of the missiles will be coordinated between the two boats. The mission can be run at almost any time of the day or night, as long as the visibility over the target is relatively clear. For our purposes, though, we can assume that the attack will be mounted in the early morning hours, prior to sunrise. This will have the effect of catching the personnel at the airbase in their beds, reducing collateral casualties as well as the effectiveness of the base defenses.
Each submarine probably loads three torpedo tubes with TLAMs, and only one tube is loaded with an Mk 48 ADCAP “just in case.” The three missiles in the tubes will be fired first, followed by the twelve in the VLS tubes. Approximately every 30 seconds another TLAM is ejected from its firing tube and headed on its way. While this is being done, each boat’s torpedo room crew quickly reloads the empty tubes with three additional TLAMs, so these can also be launched on their way to the target. This makes a total of thirty-six TLAMs headed for the target airfield. Once this is done, the submarines just slip quietly away, leaving no sign of ever having been there.
Once its engine has ignited and the wings have deployed, each missile skims the ocean and maneuvers to what is known as the prelandfall waypoint. This a spot in the ocean that leads to the first land-fall navigation point. From here, each missile navigates via a combination of GPS fixes and Tercom updates. The idea is for all thirty-six missiles to arrive over the target at precisely the right time and in order. The first few missiles, say four to six of the 1,000-lb high-explosive (HE) warhead TLAMs, are dedicated to reducing the radar and SAM defenses of the airfield. The missiles have been programmed either to dive into a radar and explode, or to fly over the radar vans and destroy them by overpressures created by the high-explosive warheads.
With the way now clear for the remaining missiles, the actual attack on the airfield develops. It will probably be over in just a matter of several minutes. Several of the TLAMs armed with the CEM submunitions will run down the ready ramps, scattering bomblets over any aircraft waiting there. Once each of the missiles has expended its load of submunitions, it will probably be programmed to dive into one of the smaller buildings (such as the aircrew quarters) on the airfield, adding its remaining fuel to the destruction. In addition, each of the large hangars has probably been allocated a pair of HE-warhead TLAMs to destroy any aircraft being serviced there. The fuel storage areas and weapons bunkers also receive the attention of their own TLAMs. The last item for the TLAMs is any revetments or hardened aircraft shelters (HAS) that might possibly contain some of the Su-24s.
A UGM-109C Tomahawk cruise missile launched from a submarine submerged off the coast of California approaches its target, a revetted aircraft. OFFICIAL U.S. NAVY PHOTO
The 1,000-pound conventional warhead detonates over its target. OFFICIAL U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Explosion and blast fragments destroy the target. OFFICIAL U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Before the base personnel have even had a chance to react, the attack will be over. Most if not all the offending fighter-bombers will be either destroyed or severely damaged. In addition, the antishipping missiles are probably blowing up in their bunkers, and the jet fuel will be blazing in its tanks. And with this, the threat of these aircraft and missiles preying on the tanker traffic in the Persian Gulf will be at an end. All of this has been accomplished without a single American life being placed in harm’s way.
Mission #5—Intelligence Gathering
Nobody really listens at keyholes anymore, mainly because keys are smaller than they used to be. But electronics have made the doors rather wide, and they also allow things to leak out more readily than before. The majority of the world’s major cities are near the water—they started off as ports and trading centers—and thus are within the reach of submarines and their sensors. Those sensors and their associated analysis equipment help give the United States and her allies an edge in figuring out the policies of foreign governments, and their potential to cause mischief in the New World Order.
Tactical Example—Reconnoitering an Enemy Harbor
It helps to be invisible. That means you can get in close, and when you do that, you can learn things. The prime intelligence-gathering mission for a submarine is electronic surveillance. A simple-looking reedlike mast can gather all manner of electronic signals. You might want to learn about the other guy’s radar systems, and he’ll be careful with these so as not to let you know exactly what your aircraft will be up against. Therefore he won’t use them much when unknown aircraft are about—but he has to use them some of the time in order that his own people can practice using them. And so what you do is sneak a boat into his coastal operations zone, run up your ESM mast, and wait. You can also listen in to short-range radio traffic, the FM stuff that stops at the horizon. Such radios are normally not encrypted, and it’s amazing what people will say when they don’t think anyone is listening.
In short order, you can monitor the other fellow’s whole electronic spectrum, and over a period of time, to boot. This allows operating patterns and procedures to be explored. And you can learn a lot from that. You can do combined operations, with submarines and aircraft working together to see what is really on the other fellow’s mind, and you can get away with it because he can see only one element of the operation. Or you can try something really crazy—take a close look for yourself. What is he up to inside his main naval bases? If the water’s deep enough, if the sub is quiet enough, you might be able to go in and snap a few pictures through the periscope. Maybe even a few hull shots. Do SSNs ever really do this kind of thing? It’s much too dangerous, isn’t it?
Mission #6—Mine Warfare
Question: How many mines does it take to make a minefield? Answer: None; you only need a press release. General Norman Schwarzkopf said it all during Desert Storm with one question to an obtuse reporter: “Have you ever been in a minefield?” Imagine what it’s like. Every step you take might place you on the trigger of an explosive device. Every single step. You have to get where you want to go. But the simple act of going there may kill you. You don’t
know when you’re entering the minefield, and you probably won’t know when you’re finally out of it. Sound like fun?
And so it is for ships. A ship, remember, is a steel bubble designed to keep air in and water out. And any ship can be a minesweeper. Once. Mines can be large or small, but in either case they blast holes in ships. Improving technology has made them more deadly. No longer the spherical steel containers with acid-filled horns (though these still exist and still work), modern mines can lie on the bottom, be activated weeks after being laid, and can include special triggering devices so that one might go off when the first ship passes over, and its neighbor when the eleventh does. Mines, therefore, have a severe psychological impact, and in the natural dread of such things comes panic, concern, and an inordinate degree of effort to get rid of the damned things, a task both time-consuming and very, very iffy. How do you know when you have swept them all? You don’t. You can’t.
Tactical Example—Quarantining (Mining) an Enemy Port
It only takes a press release, but a single explosion will put a little emphasis on it. Mines are relatively small and compact, and a submarine can carry a goodly number of them, trading off roughly one torpedo for every two mines. And the submarine can deliver a wide variety of them: Mark 57 moored mines with sophisticated sensor and triggering systems. Then there are the Mk 67 mobile mines. These are obsolete Mk 37 torpedoes that have been rebuilt into bottom mines. A submarine can fire them into a shallow channel (which itself might be mined) up to a distance of 5 to 7 miles. The Mk 67 then lies on the bottom, waiting for a ship to pass over it before detonating. Finally, for real impact, there are the Mk 60 Captor mines. These are encapsulated Mark 46 torpedoes programmed to wait for the right kind of noise (in this case enemy submarines), at which point the torpedo swims clear and attacks. For example, you could program them to listen for a certain type of submarine (like a Kilo), which isn’t exactly cricket. Mines that shoot first? Just the things for closing a port down.
Let us say that there is a country, North Korea for example, with a nasty habit of exporting military hardware, which offends the sensibilities of the rest of the world. Let’s say their nuclear weapons program has finally yielded results. Being strapped for capital, perhaps they might choose to sell off a few to the highest bidder. Somehow (perhaps through some of their contacts in the Swiss banking industry), the American intelligence services get word of the transaction. This starts the ball rolling on a confrontation between the United States with her allies, and the North Koreans. It’s the kind of confrontation that the United States could go to the UN with, and make a point to the world about arms proliferation, or suffer a major foreign policy debacle. Not so long ago, the United States expended huge resources tracking a ship loaded with a cargo of North Korean-manufactured missiles on its way to Iran. At the last minute the CENTCOM maritime surveillance forces lost track of the ship, and the cargo was delivered despite the protests of the rest of the world. Would it not have been more effective to just bottle up the port in North Korea with mines and never let the ship out in the first place? That way, wouldn’t the UN have a chance to inspect the cargo and make sure it did not contain the offending weapons? You bet! It is a “must win” kind of situation that requires a delicate and discreet touch.
So how does one deploy the mines to close the port in question? The problem here is that the North Koreans have a proven track record of hostility toward U.S. surface vessels and aircraft operating anywhere near their borders. (Remember the capture of the USS Pueblo and the EC-121 shootdown in 1968?) Thus it is imperative that any such action be handled carefully. Just the kind of job submarines are best suited for.
The mines are quietly delivered to a 688I at a tender at Guam or some other forward base. The 688I probably off-loads all her missiles (except perhaps for Tomahawk antiship missiles in the VLS tubes), and most of her Mk 48 torpedoes. Other than the mines, her only weapons are likely for self-defense. In addition, a SEAL team might be embarked to assist in any on-the-spot surveys required to support the mission. The mining plan has probably been carefully worked out, with appropriate consideration given to such things as the activation times, tidal and seabed conditions, types of mines, and appropriate warnings to the other interested parties involved. Of critical importance is knowledge of the exact placement of each mine, as we would probably have to sweep them (as we did in North Vietnam in 1973) after the incident is closed.
The operation begins with the 688I reconnoitering the areas surrounding the port. Part of this is to establish the operating patterns of North Korean patrols, but also to check for irregularities in the charts and seabed surveys that might affect the mining plan. Here, the Navstar GPS system is critical, as it allows for precise navigation of the boat in the confines of the North Korean coastal waters, and placement of the mines. Once the survey is finished, the job of mine deployment begins.
First out of the tubes probably are the Mk 57 moored mines, to be placed in the outer mouth of the port. The 688I goes in slowly using every sensor of the BSY-1 system to look for trouble. Every few minutes, another mine package is ejected from her torpedo tubes, their activation clocks ticking away to a prearranged time (probably one to two days later). As each mine is released, its position is carefully noted for future sweeping. It will not take many of these, as ship captains are creatures of habit who follow their charts and rarely deviate into less traveled channels. Once this is done, the submarine’s commander may fire some of the Mk 67 mobile mines up into the shallow channel leading to the inner harbor, say six to eight of these for each side of the channel, to sit on the bottom. Now the 688I carefully moves out of the area. Just to keep things fair in the coming crisis, the boat might move to one of the nearby naval bases that handles their fleet of diesel submarines and patrol boats. Here it could lay a few more Mk 67s in the channel, and possibly a belt of Mk 60 Captors to keep the North Korean Navy, particularly their force of diesel submarines, bottled up during the coming confrontation. You don’t even have to do it to all of their bases. Just do it to one, and say that you have done it to all of them. Who is to know, right?
You now have a foreign policy fait accompli. And don’t forget the press release. . . .
Mission #7—Submarine Rescue
It is an acknowledged fact that duty on submarines is more hazardous than other forms of military service. And unfortunately, these extra hazards can translate into the loss of a submarine and its crew. This is the part of submarine duty that is almost never spoken of, even between members of the sub force and their families: if a boat is posted as missing and presumed lost, it probably has been lost with all hands at sea. This was certainly true of submarine losses during the world wars, when very few individuals survived submarine sinkings. And in both of the nuclear submarine losses suffered by the United States during the Cold War (the Thresher and the Scorpion), this precedent held true, with all hands being lost.
Nevertheless, history also tells us that sometimes men do survive submarine sinkings. When the submarine USS Squalus sank because of a faulty induction valve off the New England coast in the 1930s, prompt action by the rescue forces of the U.S. Navy saved about half her crew. And when USS Tang was sunk by a circular-running torpedo in 1944, a small number of her crew were able to escape and survive until being picked up and taken prisoner by the Japanese. The point here is that circumstances sometimes do allow the crew of a damaged or sunken submarine to survive. And if a navy failed to provide those survivors a chance to live and be rescued, morale in that force would plummet.
So those navies that operate large forces of submarines have invested considerable funds into providing their submariners with equipment and skills to allow for their rescue if they survive whatever initial calamity befalls them. Some of these, like the Steinke hoods and Mark 8 survival suits issued by the U.S. Navy and Royal Navy, are designed for use by the men themselves. But certainly the most visible signs of commitment to the mission of submarine rescue are the Deep-Submergence Rescu
e Vehicles (DSRVs) operated and maintained by the United States and England. In the wake of the loss of Thresher in 1960, the United States built two of these miniature submarines, and the United Kingdom built one. These small submarines, operated from a mother ship or another submarine, can off-load the crew from a sunken or damaged submarine and return them to safety.
The Avalon (DSRV-2) is a deep-submergence rescue vehicle designed for universal use with NATO submarine forces. The Avalon is attached to the aft section of its host submarine, here the USS Billfish (SSN-676). OFFICIAL U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Example—Rescue of a Downed Submarine
It’s a funny thing: most submariners feel that the time of their greatest hazard is during the transits to and from their home bases. This is because of the simple fact that submarines are, by design, hard to see and find. This is especially true when the boats are on the surface, in the transit lanes leading into and out of their lairs. Their low silhouettes and relatively low radar signature make them tough to see. And if a merchant ship crew becomes sloppy or lax, it is quite easy to get run over. The British lost a boat in the Thames estuary in the 1950s, and the French a large cruiser submarine in World War II, to just such accidents. And with the sloppy handling of supertankers that has been so evident over the last few years, it is not hard to imagine an event like this taking place.
So let us suppose that the worst comes to pass, and a merchant vessel, running in heavy fog, collides with a British nuclear attack submarine during a transit back into base at Plymouth. We will suppose that the hit occurs while the sub is running on the surface, striking the after portion of the boat, rupturing the after ballast tanks and destroying the propulsion train. The boat will probably begin to settle from the stern, and there is a good chance of flooding back in the engineering spaces through tears in the hull and the shaft packing seals. With the inrush of water aft, the boat will be headed down to the bottom. During this time, the crew are trying to secure the flooding and seal hatches. The automatic safety systems will “scram” the reactor, making it safe. If there is time, the captain will order the radio room to get off a distress call to the operations center at Plymouth. If not, the crew deploys a buoy, which will transmit its own distress signal to attract attention.