USS Stonewall Jackson BoxSet

by Stephen Makk

  “You can tell me Yuri, what have you been up to.” She kissed it again.

  “The fools are starting to believe us. Can you imagine? Can you?”

  Yana kissed it again and this time lingered and stroked her lips up and down his shaft. “What am I imagining, Yuri?”

  “We will soon make our dream come true. The greater Russia. First Ukraine then... Jesus Yana.”

  She looked up at him.

  “Sorry. You make me greedy, go on.”

  “They can’t see. Don’t want to see. We’re nearly there, we... Yana, good God girl.”

  She bobbed her head above his groin, bringing him close to it; then lifted her head away. “What were you saying? Tell me.”

  “This is just part one. Ukraine first then the... Oh... Yana... next will be...”

  She lowered her head onto him, slid her tongue around and listened. Taking her time. Keep him talking, give him just enough.

  It wasn’t just her listening, in her apartment were several microphones, they listened too. The cameras watched. Yana hated it. She knew that at this very minute CIA personnel watched her at work. Watched her pleasuring him.

  But most of all she hated him, the pig. But Yana knew it had to be, her homeland needed her. She wouldn’t let them down.

  THE DARDANELLES. NORTHERN Aegean Sea.

  ON BOARD THE DESTROYER USS Wabash, the Air Warfare Officer’s eyes stared in disbelief at his radar screen. Red indicators flashed. Warning tones sounded.

  “Battle stations, battle stations. Air raid warning red!” shouted the Air Warfare Officer.

  “Missiles incoming, low from the north. Kh-31 identified.”

  “Deploy Chaff. Jamming and Countermeasures on,” commanded Hillson.

  “Range to enemy birds?”

  “Sir, they’re incoming at Mach one point five. Impact one minute 30 seconds.”

  “CIWS active, now.”

  “All ahead, come to the north.” Props turned, and the ship pulled away. The Destroyer would present as small a target as possible.

  On deck, the multi barrel Vulcan CIWS poured lead at a rate of thousands of rounds a minute towards the incoming missiles. The missiles descended to an altitude of 15 feet from the waves and raced in at 1,400mph. One ran into the wall of supersonic lead and erupted in a rolling stream of flame, tumbling into the sea. More radar-controlled blasts of lead hurled into the Kh-31’s flight paths.

  The two warships shot down three of the missiles, but five hit their targets. Kh-31s detonated their 200 pound warheads. These exploded, ripping superstructures away and punching gaping holes in the ship’s walls. The USS James K Lankusi sank within five minutes, her magazine was struck, and secondaries exploded. The USS Wabash was crippled. Her damage control teams battled to save the ship and small launches were sent to recover any survivors from her sister ship.

  Chapter 12

  NSA NAPLES. ITALY. Twelve hours later.

  THERE WAS A KNOCK ON the door, and a Petty Officer entered.

  “Sir. Captains Hailey and Bruch are here.”

  “Let them in, Perez.”

  Commander US 6th Fleet, Vice Admiral Rebecca G Marino stood smiling, she shook the two men’s hands.

  “Sit, please gentlemen.” She pushed over the desk a communication she’d received. The two men read the communication and the Action document attached. It had the Chief of Naval Operations’ authorisation.

  “So there we have it, Ivan’s on the move. We knew that of course and, after the loss of the James K Lankusi along with Wabash limping home, it’s getting worse. He’s building up his forces. How are we placed to respond? And what do we do about it?”

  Captain Hailey opened up his brief and ran his eye over the documents.

  “Sir, The Black Sea Fleet is deploying from Sevastopol and Novorossysk in large numbers. Both surface and subsurface units. The New York City has seen action against both. We have the 24th MEU located to the north of Istanbul. Our intel tells us that the Russians intend to break out through the Bosporus and into the Med. Fort Mead reports that the 56th Brigade of the airborne VDV at Kamyshin, north of Volgograd in the Southern Military district, have been mobilised. They’re about 900 miles from Istanbul. We can expect parachute drops and airborne reinforcements into Ataturk airport and others in the area. The Pentagon tells us that VDV deployments will signal the start of their push through the Bosporus.”

  Captain Bruch grunted. “Yeah, that’s what the tea leaves are telling them.”

  “Who’s looking at this info from Fort Mead?” asked Admiral Marino.

  “They have guys from the 101st and the 82nd pouring over the satellite pictures. Their view is that the VDV could move anytime they want.” Hailey flipped the page. “We have everything that floats either in the Aegean or on its way. Resupply is coming in by air. USAF assets are redeploying from the US. Turkish defense forces are mobilizing too, of course.”

  “Are preparations getting underway for this Operation VOROTA?”

  “Sir, when I heard that plan cooked up by some sewer pipe sailor, I thought he was breathing some shit down there. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Yeah, we’ve got deployments on the way. Sir, can you see it happening?”

  She nodded. “It might. We have to be ready. I’ve been on to NATO HQ in Brussels to see what they’re up to.”

  “Shooting the shit over a claret and bratwurst probably,” said Bruch.

  “You’re probably not far off. It’s no surprise the Portuguese and the Brits are the most active. They’re mobilising now.” She sipped her coffee. “They’ll both have hulls in the Med soon and the Brits have air assets flying to their base at RAF Akrotiri on Cyprus.”

  Admiral Marino sat back and sighed. “We didn’t want this shit but remember, we’re at DEFCON 3 for a reason. Let no one say the 6th wasn’t ready.”

  THE BLACK SEA. Off the Turkish coast.

  ALTHOUGH HE SAT AT his station in the USS NYC’s control room, Nosey lived in another world right now. It helped if he sat with his elbows on the console, palms covering his eyes. Sound. It was his world, the sound of the sea. Her fish, her whales, her tiny plankton and krill. The smallest of creatures made some of the loudest noises, because of their numbers. More distant were the sounds of men. Of engines and props spinning. Some of these he could hear hundreds of miles away. Thanks to the sophisticated sonars, he could tell if a ship was going into the port of Constanta in Romania or Varna in Bulgaria by the different returns due to the deeper waters at Varna. The boat had a number of sonar types. The Large Aperture Bow sonar array. Next was a wide aperture lightweight fiber optic sonar array consisting of three flat panels mounted low along either side of the hull and two high frequency active sonars mounted in the sail and bow. The chin-mounted and sail-mounted high frequency sonars supplemented the main sonar array, these provided better operations in shallow areas like a coastline and provided better under-ice navigation. They also helped in underwater combat against other submarines. The conformal array was mounted on both sides of the boat’s sail.

  Sneakiest of all, there was the towed array, way off behind the boat.

  All these ears into the depths made Nosey a little less human and a little more fish.

  “Sir, I’m picking up a very faint reflection return.”

  “Where from?” asked Franks.

  “From deep, sir. There’s a suspected cold layer at 1,900 feet. It looks to be coming from that. Sir, it’s intermittent.”

  Franks knew the Nosey was a bit of a wizard with sound. It hadn’t always been the case, but CPO Drakk had taught him well.

  “Try to get a handle on it Nosey.” Franks walked back aft to speak to the Engineers, to make them feel wanted. The boat survived because of them. It was a necessary part of being a skipper; you had to blow smoke up their asses to keep them on your side.

  Franks returned to the control room. “XO, all well?”

  “Sir. All smooth.”

 
Franks started on his daily log.

  “I’ve got the intermittent return pinned down sir.”

  “Go on.”

  “It’s the sea sir.”

  Franks rolled his eyes. “You don’t say, Nosey?”

  “The surface swell. We’re always getting the return from the north side of the wave. When the undersea side of the wave faces us, we get the return. When it faces away, we get nothing.”

  Franks waited; Nosey was good but he got off on such things, you had to be patient. “And what do we have; with this trace you mentioned?”

  “It’s an Akula class.”

  “You what?”

  “I think it is sir. That’s all.”

  Sometimes Franks thought he could strangle Nosey. But only sometimes. “What’s it doing and where is it?”

  “I think sir. I mean, I can’t be sure.”

  “Go on,” said Franks with all the patience of a saint.

  “It’s deep, around 1,200 feet to starboard of course, and about three miles astern. From his movements, depth and course changes, I think he’s tracking us.”

  “So let me get this straight, Nosey. You’ve been listening to an Akula class tracking us and you’ve said nothing?”

  “I couldn’t be sure sir.”

  Franks shook his head. “Nosey, do you have a girlfriend?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “She has my sympathy. Poor girl.” Franks looked to Cortez. “What do you think?”

  “We could put the ball in his court.”

  “I agree. All stop. Trim for up bubble ten. Vent front and rear 20 percent. Time to play dead.”

  The boat sank slowly to the seabed, kicking up a cloud of billowing silt. She settled on that dark clouded slope. The silt slowly drifted away east in the deep sea current. It was now up to the Russian SSN to find them. That is, if it was tracking them. Franks unhooked the intercom and pressed transmit.

  “All hands, all hands. We are lying on the sloping shelf of the Black Sea, off the Turkish coast. Out there stalking us, is a Russian SSN. He will have weapons release authority from the CINC Black Sea Fleet. For the moment we are lying here on the seabed playing dead. He’ll be out there searching for us. USS NYC will assume silent state, I want this boat quiet until he passes us by. Then make no mistake we’ll rise from the dead and the hunter will become the hunted. For now, we will hide quietly, stealthily. This Russian will find that the dead hulk he passed has now become his nemesis. His time will have come. USS New York City will cast a fear into his heart. Captain out.”

  The boat waited silently, not a stir, not an echo, nor the swish of a passing ghost was heard.

  The Akula class noticed the disappearance of the American boat and her pump jet drive. Her Captain took action to reacquire her.

  “Sir, I detect the Akula’s props are slicing reduced density water. She’s ascending, that’s my best analysis.”

  “How deep is she, Nosey?”

  “I can’t say sir.”

  “She’s on her way sir. She climbed the slope. My guess is that she’s at a similar depth to ours now.”

  The Russian SSN headed slowly west across the slope. Nosey sat, his head down, eyes covered. He was now in his deep-sea world of sound. His home, his realm.

  “I can hear her prop beating, pushing her towards us.”

  Franks knew that the stalking enemy could have a Type 53 fish loaded, tube flooded and ready.

  “What the hell’s going on, Nosey?”

  “Sir, I can put the feed on the control room speakers.”

  “Do it.”

  The speakers now hissed popped and then gave off a deep warble. Odd sounds from depths were broadcast into the room. Nathan looked to the XO, puzzled. What the hell were all these odd sounds? The XO saw him and shrugged. Time dragged on by. A noise like a threshing came from the speakers and then disappeared. There were more odd bubbling and gloop sounds. Then came the threshing again, louder this time. Nathan looked at the XO and then to the skipper. Franks had his head down. More threshing. A deep warble. More threshing. Nathan looked at Pigeon, she wore a tense puzzled look. A frown. It got louder.

  Thrumm, thrum, thrum, thrum. It sounded like somebody, something was coming for them. It sounded malevolent, determined. Thrumm, thrum, thrum, thrum. Louder now. More gloop noises. Thrumm, thrum, thrum, thrum. The incessant march came nearer.

  He saw Pigeon remove her headset and wipe away a rivulet of sweat, her face full of tension. Thrumm, thrum, thrum, thrum. How could Nosey listen to all this and remain sane? It got nearer. Thrumm, thrum, thrum, thrum. Nathan was sure he could now hear it through the hull as the enemy SSN pushed its relentless way through the nearby waters. Thrumm, thrum, thrum, thrum. He looked around the room; the XO, Franks, Pigeon, all of them wore looks of breaking tension. Thrumm, thrum, thrum, thrum. How could he stand this? Knowing that at any time an enemy fish could be launched towards them. Thrumm, thrum, thrum, thrum. God, make it go away.

  Outside in the darkness the multi bladed prop spun and stirred up the silt from around the NYC, and a trail of billowing silt followed the SSN. He listened to the threshing sounds of death. Thrumm, thrum, thrum, thrum. This was breaking him. Then slowly, gradually, it started to recede. Thrumm, thrum, thrum, thrum. It was there, but starting to fade. Nathan started to breathe deeper. Slowly the tension started to recede. It was like a heavy weight being lifted from his chest. It was there, thrumm, thrum, thrum, thrum, but receding. He looked to Pigeon, she smiled, as relieved as he was. The menace, the shark had passed them by. Nosey switched the sounds back to his headset.

  “Sir, it’s passed us by. I’m detecting its movement continuing towards the west.”

  “Nosey,” said Franks, “that was just about one of the most awesome and chilling things I’ve ever had to listen to. You have my deepest respect.”

  “Thanks sir.”

  Franks stayed where they were for 20 minutes.

  “Ok, let’s move on. Trim for bow up bubble ten.”

  The boat slowly rose up from the slope towards the surface.

  “Trim for depth 150 feet. Ready the communication buoy.”

  The boat floated the buoy, and contact was established with a communications satellite. The buoy was retracted.

  “Pigeon, get me a heading to VOROTA datum.”

  “Two five six degrees sir.”

  “Flood forward. Open and trim vents fore and aft. Make for depth. Planesman, down bubble 15, make your depth 300 feet. Engage pump jet, speed ten knots.”

  USS New York City was on the move again.

  “Sir. We have a new communication from CINCUSNAVEUR,” said Commander Krupa. He handed the slip to Franks.

  PRIORITY RED

  B 865635231Z JUN 53 ZY87

  CINCUSNAVEUR NAVAL FORCES EUROPE. NAPLES ITALY//E1//

  TO NEW YORK CITY

  EURFLT// ID E947QV54//

  NAVAL OPS/31

  MSGID/EUROPS 6722/CINCUSNAVEUR ACTUAL//

  MSG BEGINS://

  DISPOSITIONS OF FORCES IN THEATER. AVAILABLE TO VOROTA.

  MSG END//

  Franks read it and smiled.

  “Blake. You certainly got the man to buy into this Operation VOROTA.”

  Nathan frowned, “The man, sir?”

  “Yeah, the CNO. There are some big hitters lining up for the fight.”

  He passed the slip to Nathan.

  He read it. “There are, sir.”

  Nathan knew they faced a tough opponent. He felt a cold adrenaline flush in his stomach. They’d need all the help they could get. He looked at the list again. One thing did keep him awake: they’d be outnumbered, for a time anyway. Can they even out the situation?

  When you’re outnumbered, what helps? What would help?

  “Yes. Got it! He clenched his fist and grinned.

  “Got what, acting Captain Blake?”

  “Asymmetric warfare. That’s it!” He turned to Franks. “Sir, I need to speak with PO Herzer.”

  “From the galley?�
��

  “Yes sir, he’s the boat’s diver. I need to call for some help.”

  This had better work, thought Nathan. If it doesn’t I’ll be the laughing stock of the fleet. And worse, the Russians could get out of this goddamn sea.

  Chapter 13

  SOME HOURS LATER FRANKS called Nathan over.

  “We’re here, Weaps. VOROTA datum.”

  “We’re three miles just north of the northern entrance to the Bosporus. Could you come to periscope depth and take a visual of the bridge sir? It’ll be to the south, southwest.”

  The boat came to periscope depth. Franks did a 360 scan and noted the large twin towered Yavuz Sultan Selim suspension bridge with its multiple suspension cables.

  “That’s one big mother of a bridge out there.”

  “That’s it sir. Can you make a course under the bridge and come to a stop just south of it?”

  Franks looked at Blake, trying to gauge what he was up to.

  “Sir, PO Herzer should be ready with the diving equipment. I’m going ashore. I may be an hour or more; keep a lookout. I’ll signal and then return aboard.”

  “What the hell are you up to?”

  “I’ll give us a chance against superior numbers. It’s the last thing Ivan will expect.”

  Nathan explained his plan.

  “You need throwing in the brig,” Franks sighed. “But we don’t have one, so you’d better go out there and get it going.”

  BACK NEAR THE BASE of the sail, PO Herzer helped him into the suit. He lifted on the rebreather. Herzer checked everything over.

  “All good sir, we’re only shallow, so don’t add much gas for buoyancy. Put plenty in on the surface. When you want to descend, let gas out but not all, you’ll need to breathe.” Herzer opened the lower hatch and Nathan climbed up into it.

  “And sir. Don’t forget to clear your ears on the way back down.”