The Third World War (29 page)

The rapid growth in the number of independent nation states since 1945, most of them with sea coasts and maritime interests both commercial and naval, had added correspondingly to the complexity of war at sea.

The best that
NATO
could do had been to set up
NATO
Shipping Councils at the world’s main ports. These consisted of representatives from the shipping and forwarding agents of
NATO
countries, as these existed in each place, together with diplomatic representatives of the nations concerned. Communications between the
NATO
Planning Board for Ocean Shipping and
NATO
naval authorities made it possible for
NATO
to organize and protect its shipping outside as well as inside the
NATO
area. This was no substitute for the worldwide system of naval commands and shipping control officers by means of which Great Britain and her maritime allies had conducted the ‘sea affair’ in 1939-45, but it was better than nothing. Better, indeed, than the over-centralized Soviet system. The advantage of flexibility and initiative enjoyed by the
NATO
Shipping Councils was in stark contrast to the difficulty the Soviet Union’s representatives had in obtaining permission to act, as they so often felt that the situation demanded, in the light of local knowledge of rapidly changing circumstances.

The second set of differences, in thegeneralconditions of the war at sea, between the Second World War and Third, was technical. The most important new factor was the advent of nuclear-powered submarines. Able to go two or three times around the world without having to refuel or replenish, and not having to show any part of themselves above water (except momentarily for navigation or communication purposes), these were potent instruments of sea power. That is to say, they were potent instruments of sea power in the negative sense, namely, of the power to deny the use of the sea to a hostile country or coalition. To the positive side of sea power, submarines could contribute a good deal less. A French naval officer had aptly described nuclear-powered, missile-armed submarines as
myopic and brutal’. In placing such reliance upon a huge submarine force as the main instrument of her putative sea power, the Soviet Union underlined, one might think, its own’myopic and brutal’ character. For the quintessence of sea power, exemplified par excellence by the British Empire in its hey-day, is the positive contribution which it can make to peaceful and growing international trade. Maritime strike aircraft, although the reverse of myopic, were if anything more brutal than submarines. The latter at least could operate, in certain circumstances, with due regard for humanity, using minimum force and helping survivors to safety. This a shore-based aircraft could never do. In 1985, therefore, the Soviet Union at last had to face certain facts. The possession of enormous ship-sinking power, together with a huge merchant marine directly controlled from Moscow, was no substitute for the carrying power of the West’s ships, freely co-ordinated, under the protection of the Allied navies of the maritime governments whose Hags they flew.

This realization did not come easily or quickly to those members of the Politburo and the
CPSU
who had backed Admiral Gorshkov’s line for so “long. Why is it, they demanded to know, that every single Soviet or Warsaw Pact ship has been ordered into port? What is the Soviet Navy doing? Supporting the Red Army’s operations in centra! and northern Europe, yes. Supporting ‘fraternaP wars in the Middle East, yes. But what about the seaborne supplies needed by our socialist brothers in East and Southern Africa, in West Africa and the Caribbean? As to the Mediterranean, why is it that our shipping, and that of so-called neutral and friendly governments, remains immobilized?

‘Do not be impatient, comrades,’ replied the Commander-in-Chief of the Soviet Navy. ‘Once our gallant Red Army has imposed peace in north-west Europe, and the Americans have come to the negotiating table, you will see how Soviet sea power can become paramount, even as our armies have triumphed on land. You will see that it will be the Soviet Navy which has gained the victory.’

The first naval action of the Third World War was between two submarines, one British and the other Soviet. They met in the Shetland-Faroes gap, which, with its extension to Iceland and beyond to Greenland, would be the main naval battleground of the war. The following account of what happened, which sets the scene for the war at sea, is taken from Submarines at War by J. Heller, published by Sidgwick and Jackson, London, in 1987.

( “Up periscope.” Commander Peter Keen, Royal Navy (“P.K.” to his fellow submariners), grasped the handles and began to sweep another sector of the horizon. A clear, blue sky. Calm sea. Nothing in sight so far. It would not be true to say that P. K.. was nervous, let alone uneasy. But he was keyed up. He had been in command of
HMS
Churchill for nearly a year. The nuclear-powered boat had been in refit when he was appointed in command. He had brought her through the comprehensive post-refit trials and “work-up” programme. She was in good shape, with a first-rate crew. But now he, and they, and the Churchill, were facing the ultimate test. It was 5 August 1985. When they had sailed from Faslane two days before. Great Britain was still at peace. Now she was at war. P.K. felt his mind working overtime. Surely he should be feeling, not just keyed up, but different some way. He must think. Has everything—but everything— been done to make ready? There must be no mistake. It is them or us.

“Down periscope—sixty-five metres.” It had taken P.K. some time to get used to ordering the depth to keep in metres. But it was over ten years since the Admiralty charts had been made metric and the fathom had dropped out of the language.

P.K.’s orders were to establish anti-submarine patrol in an area between the Shetland Islands and the Faroes. He would be well clear of other
NATO
submarines. Because of the prevailing water conditions he had decided to remain in the “surface duct”; this would also enable him to come quickly and quietly to periscope depth to classify any sonar contacts there might be. There were still some trawlers at sea, and possibly other surface vessels.

“Control room—Sonar.” The watchkeeper’s voice came over the intercom. “Red three two, sir—contact.”

“Action Stations, Number One,” ordered P.K.. “Bring all tubes to the Action State. Periscope depth.” The boat angled slightly upwards and levelled off. “Up periscope.”

Keene gazed intently, moving the periscope a little to and fro either side of the bearing. Then he clicked the handle to give “low power” magnification and swung quickly right round and back to the original bearing.

“Down periscope.”

In the Control Room men had moved to their Action Stations. As nuclear-powered submarines spent almost all their time dived, the hallowed cry “Diving Stations” had been discarded in favour of the more descriptive “Action Stations”. But to a submariner the “dangers of the sea” were always more to be feared than the “violence of the enemy”... or were they? The next few minutes would tell.

“All tubes at Action State, sir,” came the report from Jake Bond, the Torpedo Control Officer.

“Bearing Red three oh, sir, diesel H.E.,” from the Sonar Room.

“Up periscope.” P.K.. looked on the bearing, then, as before, a few degrees either side. “Nothing in sight on the bearing. Could be a submarine ‘snorting’. He may have just begun to. Could be close. Number One, pass the word that we are attacking an enemy submarine. Down periscope.”

Tom Richardson, the First Lieutenant, called, “D’ye hear there?” on the intercom and passed the word.

“Bearing Red two eight, sir. H.E. increasing. Classified submarine. Diesel. Two forty revs, sir. Eight knots if it’s a Tango class.” It was the Chief Sonar Operator now. Gordon. An excellent man.

“Port twenty. Stand by One and Two tubes. Pilot, let me have a range as soon as you can. Steer three zero zero.”

The Coxswain repeated back the order. The Control Room was very quiet now. Everyone was at his post. The tension was building up.

“I’ll take another look,” said the Captain. “Up periscope.”

“Bearing Green four three,” came from the Sonar Room. “Moving right.”

“Range five thousand two hundred, sir,” said Harry Clay, the Navigator.

The Captain aligned the periscope on the bearing. “Bring her up. Number One. I think there’s something there.., YES! By God, and she’s close. Down periscope, sixty-five metres. Switch to sonar. Range three thousand. Number One tube—Shoot!” P.K. moved to the Fire Control Panel.

“Torpedo’s running, sir,” said Jake Bond.

“Good,” said P.K. He had carried out scores of dummy attacks on friendly submarines in the course of his training. He had seen many Tigerfish anti-submarine torpedos fired, for practice. Some had run badly. He gazed intently at the illuminated panel, ready to guide the torpedo if need be. He could hardly believe it. There was his torpedo—a homing torpedo—moving straight out towards the target. A minute went by. It seemed eternal. Half a minute more and then from the Sonar Room:

“Acoustic contact!” Followed, after an agonizing pause, by, “Tonk!” A faint metallic thud was heard.

“Damn!” said Keene, in an agony of dismay. “Something’s wrong. The torpedo hit but didn’t explode …”

“Control Room—Sonar,” Gordon’s voice broke in, “H.E.’s stopped, sir! I think we got him. That was an explosion! Last bearing Green five seven.”

“Good,” said P.K. “Periscope depth. Up periscope.” Once again P.K. examined the bearing. “Bring her up, Number One.” The Captain swung right round, examin-ing the horizon, then came back to the original bearing. “There’s nothing there. That Tigerfish did its stuff, after all. It didn’t sound tike it, though. Pilot, get a report ready: ‘Have sunk Tango class submarine in position so-and-so.’ We’ll check for survivors or wreckage, or any other evidence. But I don’t think there’s any doubt. That’s one down and three hundred and two to go.”

‘Churchill reports torpedoing a submarine—a Tango— twenty miles, north west of Herma Ness, sir” was the first bit of heartening news of the war for the Joint Allied Command Western Approaches. It was given to them, in their capacities as Cs-in-C Eastern Atlantic and Commander Maritime Air, Eastern Atlantic, at the first morning ‘briefing’ of the war, deep underground at Northwood, Middlesex. The Flag Officer Submarines, who since 1978 had been located at Northwood, was, as they said, ‘somewhat chuffed’ as his Chief Staff Officer made the report. ‘Are you quite sure that it wasn’t one of ours?’ was the question asked, simultaneously, by the Admiral and the Air Marshal. They were greatly relieved to be assured that it was not. ‘No doubt at all. It was a diesel-electric boat, and there were no
NATO
ones anywhere near.’ The discussion which ensued, regarding Soviet and
NATO
submarine dispositions, revealed that the avoidance of mutual interference between NATO’s own submarine forces, and between
NATO
surface and air anti-submarine forces and
NATO
submarines, would be a serious problem. This had been expected, but its resolution would continually govern the operations of all
NATO
naval and air forces.

Turning to current operations it was reported that the First Support Group (formerly STANAVFORLANT— Standing Naval Force Atlantic) was on its way, at best speed, towards the Norwegian coast. In about twelve hours it would reach the limit of shore-based air cover from the UK. The fast transports, carrying reinforcements for the northern flank, had sailed from the Forth and were expected to rendezvous with the First Support Group shortly.

The air strike planned against Soviet installations on and around the Kola peninsula on the outbreak of hostilities was launched from UK bases, and timed to achieve a co-ordinated on-target time of
HOO
hours
GMT
. The force consisted of thirty-six Tornados and sixteen Buccaneers. The latter, venerable though they might be, had been retained, refitted and rearmed, in the maritime role as they were superseded by Tornados in the more complex and demanding Central European overland role. They were well respected for their performance, handling qualities and robustness—’Not built, carved out of the solid!’ noted one pilot with affection.

tance, the Buccaneers would refuel at Bodo. The attacks would open with anti-radar missiles fired at stand-off ranges by the Tornados to damp things down a little, and would then be pressed home with area weapons against runways and aircraft installations. Gun and rocket fire would then, it was hoped, finish off any unscathed aircraft.

And so it went, broadly. Remarkably, the Russians seemed, if not unprepared, at least surprised. Although no firm evidence has come to light, it has been suggested that they had assumed some form of tacit quid pro quo with the Americans, whereby neither would launch an attack upon the homeland of its adversary until escalation was approaching strategic levels. If so, it was an expensive assumption. A calm analysis—the immediate claims exhibited the usual optimism of war—showed a score of sixty-one Backfires destroyed and many damaged, which was certainly more than had been hoped. But there had been a cost: five Buccaneers and nine Tornados were lost during the attacks. Sadly, all but one of the remaining Buccaneers were caught on the ground at Bodo during their recovery by a massive Soviet attack on that airfield.

The three maritime radar reconnaissance squadrons of
RAF
Vulcans had been occupied in routine surface surveillance of the North and Norwegian Seas and the Eastern Atlantic for weeks. The scale and intensity of their operations now increased, co-ordinated with sea surveillance squadrons of
USAF
working in
WESTLANT
and the Greenland-Iceland gap. The loss of satellite surveillance of the Atlantic at the outbreak of hostilities placed an increased burden on their activities. Their first major customer appeared on the evening of 4 August, when a Vulcan detected what seemed most likely to be an amphibious landing group rounding the North Cape. One Vulcan squadron was now devoted to the round-the-clock surveillance of this group, working in co-operation with Norwegian fast patrol boats.