on unfriendly radar, it is comforting to know that the Stennis Strike Group’s silhouette can’t be seen from shore. And, thankfully, the safety and security of our naval base in Bahrain is only four hours away,” Captain Crisalli said reassuringly as Lieutenant Kuo stepped onto the open bridge.
“Captain, Combat Information Center reports the sudden appearance of a large surface contact,” Lieutenant Kuo said.
“Very well, Lieutenant,” Captain Crisalli replied after receiving the disturbing news.
“Admiral, if you would excuse me, I need to evaluate this situation.”
“I understand, David. Keep me informed.”
“Yes, sir,” Captain Crisalli replied before quickly making his way to the Combat Information Center (CIC), where the executive officer (XO), Commander Mike Mauri, was closely monitoring this new development.
“What do you have, Mike?”
“Captain, radar had a large surface contact heading directly toward us at fifteen knots and ten miles out. We originally thought it was probably a large tanker in the outbound shipping lane. However, this one large contact now appears to be six smaller contacts, all abreast.”
“It would certainly be an unusual time of the evening to set sail looking for tuna, so I don’t think they’re dhows,” Captain Crisalli quipped as he analyzed the tactical picture and evaluated the potential threat.
“Is there any chatter coming from these vessels?” Captain Crisalli asked with increasing concern.
“No, sir. No communication at all. Additionally, we have been trying to raise them for the last ten minutes, without success,” the XO replied.
“Mike, I smell a rat. Get two choppers in the air immediately to investigate. With night vision goggles maybe the pilots can see through this muck.”
“Captain, there are two other troubling facts. These contacts appeared suddenly, and the only explanation, which makes sense, is that they were on the western side of Lesser Tunb island, thus shielded from our radar.”
“Interesting. And your second concern?” the captain queried.
“We have no other contacts on radar. This is a busy waterway, and there is always a constant flow of commercial traffic through this area at all hours, day and night,” Commander Mauri injected as Captain Crisalli turned to face the XO. There was no doubt that this subtle observation proved equally disturbing—Mike Mauri could read it on the captain’s face.
“Keep me informed and make sure that the other ships in formation are tracking these contacts,” Captain Crisalli ordered, as he was about to leave the CIC.
“Yes, sir,” the XO responded.
“Bogies, two-seven-zero, twelve miles out!” a petty officer manning the anti-aircraft radar screamed. Captain Crisalli stopped dead in his tracks.
“Mike, get the admiral down here,” the captain ordered.
Moments later, Admiral Frederick was in the CIC.
“Speed, course, and altitude?” Commander Mauri requested with a sense of urgency.
“Speed is forty knots, course is one-seven-zero, altitude is five hundred feet,” came the reply.
“Admiral, there are six small surface contacts ten miles out heading toward us at fifteen knots. I’ve ordered two Sea Hawk helicopters to investigate. Additionally, we just picked up these bogies.”
“Captain, the bogies are traveling in a southerly direction. There may be ten to fifteen aircraft. The bogies, as well as the surface contacts, appear to have originated from Lesser Tunb,” Commander Mauri explained.
“I don’t like it, David—get two F-Eighteen Super Hornets in the air,” the admiral responded curtly as the crew worked quickly to plot and evaluate these new threats. They had trained countless hours for scenarios such as this one, but those were only drills. This was the real deal!
“The bogies have changed course and increased speed to one hundred knots. They are now heading toward the fleet,” the radar operator announced.
“Sound General Quarters,” Admiral Frederick growled.
“Mike, inform the other ships in the Carrier Strike Group to go to General Quarters and to lock and load. Weapons release—authorized!” the admiral ordered as Captain Chrisalli continued to reassess the tactical picture.
“Admiral, it appears that these seagoing desert rats are coming to pay us a visit,” the captain observed.
“General Quarters, General Quarters, this is not a drill,” the bowswain’s mate announced over 1MC as the John C. Stennis roared to life. Thousands of sailors were rudely awakened from a dead sleep at the sound of the alarm, yet all scrambled to their duty stations. Hatches were slammed shut and dogged as to make compartments throughout the ship watertight within minutes.
“Commander, I recommend coming to course zero-one-zero and increasing speed to thirty-five knots,” the flight officer, Lieutenant Helfrich, announced after completing his calculations.
“Very well, Lieutenant, make it so,” Commander Mauri ordered as Lieutenant Helfrich notified the bridge of the new course and speed.
“Let’s get the Hornets and the Sea Hawks off the deck,” Captain Crisalli insisted, knowing that time was now critical.
“Admiral, I assure you that we’ll have the remains of these audacious bastards buried deep beneath this sandy seabed momentarily,” Captain Crisalli said with unwavering confidence.
Captain Rahirimi and the crew of the Tareq were at battle stations, and anticipation ran high. Yet all remained silent. Sonarman Jannati had detected the fleet some twenty minutes prior. The captain ordered that the sounds from the multitude of thrashing propellers be piped in throughout the boat.
Whoosh—whoosh—WHOOSH; the sounds grew louder. Now there was no doubt that the fleet was rapidly approaching.
Captain Rahirimi was aware that the six Seraj-1 fast attack boats were in position, ready to strike, and the fifteen Karrar drones were in the air. Each sleek Seraj-1 fiberglass boat carried an anti-ship missile and was capable of quickly reaching speeds in excess of eighty knots.
The Karrar unmanned drones carried four cruise missiles each. They were controlled by pilots in a makeshift tent on Lesser Tunb. Each had a joystick and sat patiently in front a computer screen. In the nose cone of each drone was a camera, so the battle could be monitored in real time. In all, the destructive power from both sea and air was overwhelming.
“Captain, the bearing to the fleet is zero-three-zero,” Jannati reported.
“Excellent. Up, periscope.” Captain Rahirimi trained the scope to 030 and adjusted the power and the focus. The carrier and her escorts were now entering the east side of the trap.
“Nasrin, send the following message to Yunes: ‘Allahu Akbar. Commence your attack on the cruiser. Good hunting!’” Captain Rahirimi ordered. “Helm, come right to course zero-one-zero, all ahead one-third. Make your depth four-zero feet. Flood all tubes and open all outer torpedo doors,” the captain
