by Stephen Makk
AFTER A FEW MINUTES, a form appeared out of the darkness, the lower edge of a ship’s walkway, and the hull walls were covered in dead men’s fingers. This was a filter feeder and nothing to do with dead people. The rail rose up. Innes rose and swam over the deck. He was near the bow and swam towards it, then turned and headed for amidships. He made his way down towards the stern across cavernous empty holds. A large Eel surprised him at one point as it snaked its way by him, its two large blue eyes watching his odd form. There, at the stern, was the superstructure, projecting up one hundred feet or so. It was time to return. He reeled the cable in following a reciprocal bearing eighty five degrees. Nothing but the slight hiss and pop of his valves, just blackness. Fin on.
THEN, THERE SHE WAS, the Jackson. He lowered himself into the sail, down the hatch, closed and spun the wheel. He knocked with a hammer he carried on the lower hatch three times twice. The knocks came back. The sail drained slowly. The lower hatch was opened, so he handed down the rebreather and climbed down to the deck. Innes removed his mask and hood and walked forward into the control room.
“Ah, CPO Innes, what did you find?” asked Nathan.
“Sir, it’s a blockship, a coaster. Maybe two thousand tons.”
Nathan nodded. “Could you ready your rebreather set? I’m afraid we may need you again tonight.”
“Yes, Sir. Could I take a hot shower? A Walrus would shiver out there. My balls are about to desert my body.”
Nathan smiled. “Yes of course.” He raised the scope and did a 360. “Kaminski. Access the scope’s 360 and plot the block ship’s position. Planesman, come to south at four knots and turn west for another run in.” There were no nets, the enemy was using blockships to prevent access. Unless they met a wall of them, they might still get in.
Innes got three more swims that night, and the chart filled up with four charted positions of block ships. Nathan looked carefully at Innes after the fourth dive. The man was visibly shivering and pale with exhaustion. He’d taken it as far as it would go.
“Get your hot shower and whatever the galley can give you, then get to your bunk and sleep. The COB will see your duties are attended to. Well done CPO Innes, thanks.”
NATHAN WALKED OVER to the chart. “Now, how far until the end of this lot, Kaminski?”
“At the latest, they must end on this line, but that means twice the distance we’ve penetrated so far. Sir. My guess is less than that, but we’re still halfway in or less.” She turned to look at him with those bottomless blue eyes, which had a faint hint of a playful smile about them. “Are you trying to go all the way in?”
What? Was she flirting?
He tried not to smile. “I’ll try.”
A scraping sound came from the sail.
“All stop. Engage reverse. Nice and slow. Sonar?”
“I think it came from the sail’s fore planes, Sir. Sounded like a cable running over one.”
He’d been dreading this. After a fire aboard it was the submarine’s greatest fear.
“I think we just snagged a tethered mine. Pulled it down towards us. Weaps, what do we have on PRKN mines?”
“Not much Sir, they’ve got some old Soviet mines but we’ve some evidence from the ROKN that they’ve been making their own. It’ll be tethered to the seabed, some have contact detonation, some have timers too.”
He’d been dreading that one. The thing could be up there ticking away right now.
“Half left rudder, keep backing up.” They must put some distance between them and the mine.
“Rudder fully aft, keep going.” Two minutes passed by. Another scraping sound came from the sail. Oh shit, not another.
“Forward four knots, half left rudder.” It couldn’t be much worse. It was like playing blind man’s bluff in a dark room full of shotguns, with all their triggers wired up with nylon lines. Wander into a line, pull it and that’s it.
He looked to his XO. “We’ve wandered into a goddamn minefield.”
Chapter 4
FROM THE STARBOARD side came a massive boom; it was some way off but still the boat rocked and weaved in the boiling turbulence.
“That would have been the first mine going up,” said Weaps, “seems they’re on a timer.”
“It’s looking like a four minute delay, that’s if they’re all the same.”
“Head for the detonation point,” said Nathan. “It can’t go off twice.” He knew they were heading out of there; there was no getting into the base now.
“Kaminski, nav us the best route out of here.”
“Commander, can you give me a 360?” she asked.
“Yep, blow one, come to periscope depth.” Once there he set up his console for a three sixty. The scope rose above the surface, did a 360 and submerged.
“Take the 360 Kaminski and do your stuff.” He looked at the image himself, it was just starting to break dawn up there.
Nathan zoomed in on a part of the screen. “Joe Gook is up early today. We’ll be having company soon.”
Two Corvettes from the main Sinpo base were heading their way.
“Flood one. Open and trim vents fore and aft. Make for depth. Down bubble twenty, depth fifty.”
“Aye aye Sir. Down twenty, depth fifty.”
“At the det point, Sir.”
“Coast the boat.” A few minutes later the sound of props was just audible.
“Sonar?”
“Yes Sir, the two Corvettes, they’re not pinging, they’re using passive search.”
“Keep me in the loop, ok? I need to know what’s going on.”
“Yes Sir, sorry.” The sonar operator listened for a few minutes. “Sir, they’re moving further out to the east, equispaced, one north, one south.”
“Best exit route Kaminski?”
“Bearing three two degrees, Sir, it takes us close to the northern patrol boat but that’s the best run out.”
“Weaps, get me a firing solution on that boat and designate it Tango one.”
“Sir.”
“Solution laid in, Sir.”
“Remind me of our warshot loading.”
“Sir, warshot. Tubes one to four Mk 48 CBASS. Tubes five Harpoon, six clear. Vertical VPM launch tubes with twenty one Tomahawk BGM-109 cruise missiles. Tube two is working now Sir, it was a fault on the fish, it’s now fixed.” A terrific boom sounded to the south, within seconds the boat heaved then rolled with the shockwave. The second mine had blown.
“Sir, something entering the water from the north, it’s east of us. There’s a line moving south.”
There were deep thuds from the east.
“I think they’re mortars, air dropped. A north to south barrier line.”
Just north, there was a plop into the sea followed by a powerful explosion. The hull shook.
“Ship launched anti-submarine mortars, Sir.” Another mortar exploded to the south. There was a further plop and a mortar exploded just to the south. The boat heaved violently to the north.
“Split and leakage in ring main two, damage control team on it!” The COB shouted, alarm in his voice.
“Sir, air dropped line has started again, advancing north.” Deep thuds sounded to the south-east line of advance, moving to the north.
“Get us to the site of the first mortar drop Kaminski.”
“Steer, zero five zero.”
“Planesman, do as she says.”
“Aye aye, Sir.” The whole area had become a forest of air and ship-launched weapons.
“XO, they’re trying to keep us in here with that airdropped curtain, while these two vessels systematically whack different sections. They’ll get lucky eventually.” Another mortar blew off to the north, and the boat lurched to the south and rolled in the turbulence. There was only one thing for it. Another mortar exploded to the south violently shaking the boat, and the hull groaned.
“Sonar. The airdrop line is advancing towards the south.”
“How far south?”
“Almost due east of us.”
>
“Give me a clear run east, Kaminski.”
“Forty degrees, it’s right underneath the northernmost Corvette, Sir.”
Nathan swallowed and gripped the Conn’s rail. “Planesman. Forty degrees. All ahead full.”
“Aye Sir, all ahead and forty degrees.” The boat surged ahead, picking up speed.
“Sonar. Airdrop line is reversing, now heading north.”
Come on, come on. Would she make it before the air dropped mortar curtain reached them? She was now at max speed. The airdrops got louder as they marched north. Nathan’s grip tightened and he realized he was holding his breath. Boom, boom, boom. He looked up as the boat pitched up from the rear. That was behind them, they were through the curtain.
Thank God.
ANOTHER MINUTE AND the devil’s drum set at the east entrance was behind them.
“Come to two eighty, update firing solution on Tango one. Get me a firing solution on the southernmost boat and designate as Tango two.” Less than a minute later, Weaps came back.
“T1 and T2 are locked Sir.”
“Flood tubes one and two, open outer doors.
Tube one, lock in for Tango two. Tube two for Tango one.”
“Tubes ready in all respects Sir,”
“Launch tube one.” There was a rushing sound up forward.
“Good launch, the fish is hungry.”
“Weaps, launch tube two.” The rushing sounded again.
Nathan counted down the seconds, then raised the periscope. He set it to wide angle, framing it so there was a Corvette on either side of the screen.
“Weaps. Wire cut on T1, fish pinging, revs up, running in. Wire now cut on T2, fish pinging, revs up, running in. Both fish are terminal.” There was a pause. “Hot datum on T1. Hot datum on T2.”
On Nathan’s screen, the southernmost ship was lifted out of the water by the explosion. She fell back into the sea split in two. The northernmost Corvette was ripped apart, the torpedo having struck the magazine. Nathan lowered the scope.
“Bearing forty five degrees, speed eighteen knots. Let’s get clear.”
Nathan knew that was the eastern channel shut off, it only left the western side and that was netted and shut as tight as a turtle’s ass.
USS BENFIELD.
HE STOOD AT THE FORE end of the bow, spray mixed with sleet blew over the gunnels. Out in front was the grey Sea of Japan, where the wind blew from the crests of the white horses. It was cold that morning. Out there over the horizon was the small port of Geojin-Ri, Republic of Korea. It lay about ten miles south of the North Korean border.
Captain Chris Harding of the Arleigh Burke class destroyer USS Benfield (DDG-65) turned to return inside his ship. He liked to drink in the environment, to get a feel for where he was. They’d sailed out of the 7th Fleet base at Yokosuka Japan three days ago; his mission was to patrol the South Korean coast from the northern border south to Ulsan and back.
He entered the ship’s superstructure, drank in the warmth, and made his way aft down the steps to the galley. Harding took his place in the line-up with the rest of the crew. He could have taken his breakfast in his cabin but preferred to mix in with the men. He was a goddamn sailor like the rest of them. If it was good enough for them, it was good enough for him.
He chose a table.
“Mind if I join you guys?”
“No Sir. Please.” The sailor gestured for the Captain to sit.
He stayed to eat and shoot the shit with his men, then left for the control room. It was full of men and women sitting at screens wearing headsets.
“Mike, Victor, Alfa, Charlie. You are clear sector Delta two.”
“Copy Romeo Whiskey twelve. Benfield reports zero traffic at this time. Over.”
The Principal Air Warfare officer talked down an SH-60B Seahawk.
“Rodger Blue light one, you are vector one six two. You have four miles to feet dry. OOTD is waiting for your call. Call him November, Kilo niner, six, eight, decimal four. Repeat. November, Kilo niner, six, eight, decimal four.”
A woman’s voice came back over the RT.
“Copy Benfield. November, Kilo niner, six, eight, decimal four. Blue light is inbound at five hundred feet.”
“How’s it look Dizzy?”
The ship’s Executive Officer, Mike Diz, looked over. “Pretty quiet, some fishing boat activity. There was a PRKN offshore patrol boat, but it’s gone north.”
“Ok, we’re thirty five miles offshore, we’ll come south. Pilot, ship’s bearing two four five degrees, speed twelve knots.”
“Aye, Sir.” Benfield turned to port and came abeam. Her four General Electric LM2500-30 gas turbines were not taxed much by the low speed. Half of her two hundred and eighty complement slept on through their off watch. They’d come on watch in the afternoon.
“SONAR. ENEMY SURFACE ship. Prop change, speed is now twelve knots, heading south, south east. Range narrowing, eighteen kilometres. Bearing two zero two degrees.”
“Come to four zero degrees, speed nine knots,” said Commander Jeong Seok. The PRKN Sang-O class submarine Badabaem (Sea Snake) came to her new heading. Her Trout Cheek sonar was more than capable of tracking the American destroyer at this range.
“Keep a good ear out Sonar, I want to know if he changes tack before he does.”
“Sir.”
Badabaem headed out away from the coast on an intercept track with the ship. Thirty minutes later, the gap had narrowed.
“Sonar, can you get an ID?” asked Jeong.
“Sir, it looks like an Arleigh Burke class destroyer. I’m eighty five percent positive on that. Bearing thirty three degrees, range nine point six kilometres.”
“Rig trim to ascend fore and aft. One forward. Come to periscope depth.” Jeong made a note on a pad at his conn. He handed it to the Communications Officer.
“Make that message to Eastern Fleet, code Tuesday 8th.”
“Yes, Sir.” He typed it into the set and transmitted.
EASTERN FLEET. SUBMARINE OPERATIONS.
BADABAEM. ID E33U7T29. POSITION 38 266 175N 179 033 455W
ENEMY USN DDG 9KM TO EAST. HEADING SSW. REQUEST INSTRUCTIONS.
BADABEAM OUT.
Ten minutes later the reply came back.
BADABAEM. ID E33U7T29
EASTERN FLEET. SUBMARINE OPERATIONS. ID782EB7GE84-AA
OPERATION MT PAEKTU. REPEAT. OPERATION MT PAEKTU.
WORKERS PARTY OF KOREA WISH YOU WELL.
EASTERN FLEET. SUBMARINE OPERATIONS OUT.
Commander Jeong Seok read the message and raised his eyebrows. Operation Mt Paektu?
“Sonar update on enemy vessel?”
“Bearing thirty three five, range nine point two kilometres.”
“Flood one. Open and trim vents fore and aft. Make for depth. Down twenty, depth four five meters. Speed nine knots.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Badabaem dived under the grey swell, leaving no trace. Jeong knew he carried the honour of the PRKN with him this day. He’d need to be at his best.
“Weapons officer. Make checks on type 53s.” The Weapons Officer moved to the forward torpedo room. If called on, the Type 53 had plenty of range, typically forty kilometres, using the Otto fuel axial engine.
A few minutes later, he returned. “Two checked out, Sir.”
“Load tubes one and two.” The two Type 53s were already slung from overhead racking and were quickly loaded.
“Tubes ready, Sir.”
“Flood both tubes. Open outer doors.”
TERMINAL ACTION.
“COMMUNICATIONS. SIR, we detected a wide band encrypted signal somewhere to our west. The code type is consistent with PRKN signals.”
“Any reply so far?” asked Captain Harding.
“No, Sir.”
“Sonar?”
“Indeterminate, Sir. The South Korean fishing squadron to our west is causing acoustic interference in that quarter.”
“Ok, keep trying.”
“I’m apply
ing filters now Sir.”
“Comms, listen for any possible reply.”
The minutes dragged on, and USS Benfield headed south.
“Communications. Possible reply detected Sir.”
“PSA Officer, any surface vessels apart from the fishing boats to our west?”
“Negative Sir,” replied the Principal Surface Action Officer. This could be a submarine, it would have to be checked out.
“Come to two seven zero, speed sixteen knots.”
“Aye Sir.” Benfield turned to starboard.
“Sonar. Fish in the water. Fish in the water. Catalogue Russian, type 53. Range five point seven miles, speed fifty MPH.” Harding calculated it in his head, less than seven minutes to impact.
Klaxons sounded throughout the ship.
Whoop, whoop. “Battle stations, battle stations.” Whoop, whoop. “Battle stations, battle stations.” Men and women donned white anti-flash hoods and scurried to their battle stations. Damage control parties took up their positions.
“Sonar. Range four miles. Fish is going wide to the north.” Harding knew the 53 was wire guided and its operator knew they’d be heading west. He’d be going wide to come in for a starboard side impact.
“Ready countermeasures. Load tubes. Ripple effect, high to low.” Noisemaking and bubble dispensing decoys would be ejected mortar style, fired from deck tubes with high angle long range first. Lowering to shorter range next; creating a wall of confusion to the incoming torpedo. Benfield had a chance.
“Sonar, mark target. Weaps, launch ASROC,” commanded Captain Harding. The rocket launched anti-submarine missile blasted off on a tower of flame from its launcher. It carried a MK 46 torpedo that would be parachuted into the sea near the target. The Mk 46 would then perform a snake or circle search to locate its target with onboard sonar.
