USS Stonewall Jackson BoxSet

by Stephen Makk

  “Conn Sonar. Fish in the water, fish in the water, Soviet type sixty five.”

  “Time to impact?”

  “Five minutes forty four seconds.”

  “Mark that time and call it.” Luke knew he had to appear confident, even though he knew they could be five minutes away from a crushing watery death.

  “Weps, give me a sitrep on the Spearfish.”

  “Thirty seconds to impact.”

  “Ratty?”

  “Tango one turning about to face us. Not diving she’s now rising.”

  “Captain,” said Savita, “she’s going for a classic alpha three release manoeuvre. She’s going to launch a fish.” Luke knew all too well what was going on. Two fish running in for them, it didn’t get any worse than that.

  “Conn Sonar, Tango one has deployed countermeasures. Noisemakers would be released, spinning and hissing behind the submarine in an effort to tempt the torpedo away from its real target.

  “Weapons Sir, time to impact fifteen seconds.” Come on, come on, Luke willed the Spearfish on.

  “Conn Sonar, Tango two’s fish is four minutes and thirty five seconds away and closing. It’s now above us, it looks like they’re going for a high and dive shot.” The torpedo would come down on them from above, it eliminated any chance of its guidance sonar being distracted by any surface targets.

  “Conn Sonar. Two hundred metres to run. Our fish is pinging. The boat’s turning to port and diving. Still pinging. Yes, it’s ignored the countermeasures, fish going in. One hundred metres. Pinging, pinging. Hot datum! Hot datum!” A pause followed, Hot datum was submarine parlance for a direct hit. “Impact amidships, no screw count from her, I heard the hull tearing open, she’s sinking.” Luke hung his head in sorrow for the men lost. They were his fellow submariners and deserved respect. However, he had a job to do and a fish with their name on it was running in.

  “Remove Tango one from the threat board. Ratty give me a sitrep on the Soviet fish.”

  “The fish is three minutes fifty five away, running in fifty knots and high.” Luke knew he had to take a gamble.

  “Come to one four zero degrees. Speed fifteen knots.” The Ghost turned to face the oncoming torpedo.

  “Call the range Ratty.”

  “Fish, six point five kilometres. Impact in three minutes fifty seconds.” Luke exchanged glances with the Exec. Commander Davis had a calm expression but his eyes told a different story.

  “Fish, five point two kilometres. Impact in two minutes forty seconds.” Ratty calmly called out the numbers. The room was silent but crew members looked around furtively.

  “Weps, ready two countermeasures, port and starboard. Set mode synchronise.” Type 2071 countermeasures or noisemakers, would be launched either side of the boat from the two SSE launchers. “Fish, three point three kilometres. Impact in one minute fifty seconds.” Ratty’s tone of voice rose, you could feel the tension now.

  “Fish, two point one kilometres. Impact in one minute.” Wait, wait thought Luke.

  “Fish one point three kilometres. Impact forty five seconds.” Ratty’s voice had a quiver now. Luke counted down.

  “Release countermeasures. Flood one and two. Planesman, emergency dive. Maximum revs.

  Weps, dance the Lure.”

  In this mode, the streaming Lure attempts to confuse the torpedo's passive sonar by emitting simulated submarine noise, such as propeller and engine noise, which is more attractive than the boat to the torpedo's sensors.

  “The Lure’s dancing Sir.”

  The boat’s deck tilted down at an alarming angle and people hung on to whatever they could. The two noisemakers emitted sounds like a submarine running at full speed and blew out clouds of bubbles to confuse the torpedo’s sonar. Holy Ghost’s prop spun fast and the vibration throbbed throughout the boat.

  “Impact, twenty seconds. Fifteen seconds. It’s going to port, the fish is going for a noisemaker.” A tremendous booming rumble sounded and the boat shook violently, then lurched to starboard. The rumble subsided, the control room crew looked around at each other. They were still here. Luke picked up the communications handset.

  “Damage control report.”

  “We’re inspecting now Sir.”

  “Blow one and two. Make your depth one twenty, speed fifteen knots.”

  “One twenty at fifteen aye Sir.”

  “Ratty, is the Lure still functional?” There was a pause.

  “Yes Sir, the diagnostic checks out.”

  “Then get looking for the Siyah Bambak. She’s out there ahead of us. I want Tango two on the bottom of the Red Sea now.” The Black Shark was now the hunted one, a Ghost was coming for her.

  Chapter 5

  “WEPS, GET TUBE ONE loaded with a Spearfish.”

  “Aye Sir.” It was down to Ratty now, where is Tango two? Ratty adjusted his scope, patterns formed on the screen as he tried different frequencies.

  “Conn Sonar, I request a coast.”

  “Disengage drive.” The boat fell silent and slid through the dark deeps, listening. Finally, Ratty looked up and turned to Luke, a frown on his face framed by the white anti-flash hood.

  “She’s not there Sir. There’s nothing, Tango two’s gone.”

  “She could be coasting Sir,” said the Exec, “we could always try an active ping.” Luke pursed his lips. “That’s a double-edged sword. We’ll broadcast our position and he’d probably try to stuff a type sixty five down our throat,” Luke shook his head, “that’s a quiet bastard out there. The bloody black hole. I’ll bet he’s going south, slowly, quietly. Get out of the way and into the Gulf of Aden. He’ll be a bastard to catch there.”

  “Weapons,” said Savita. “Two new countermeasures loaded. Tube one ready in all respects, the fish is hungry.”

  The boat’s intercom sounded. “Damage control Sir, the hull’s sound, minor damage to two water feed pipes. Back aft monkeys... sorry Sir, engineers are working on it.”

  “Exec. I’m going to bet he’s south bound, we’ll do a zig zag search at six knots west-southwest on the first leg returning east-south east, keeping the Lure streamed out. We’ll make our way southwards, we have to find that bugger.” The Lure’s array sonar was more effective when streamed straight outwards and less effective in a turn.

  “Planesman come to two four zero, speed six knots.”

  “Two four zero at six aye Sir.”

  The Ghost started her trawl south-west, then south-east searching, listening for the stealthy Kilo. After forty minutes of searching. Savita turned to her Captain. "Sir. I’d like to check the countermeasures. If that’s OK?”

  “Yes fine, they’re the new model four type aren’t they?”

  “Yes, It’ll be the first time we’ve used them,” her eyes smiled, “if we have to that is.”

  “I’ll take a look with you, Exec you have the conn.” Mark Davis gave Luke what might have been a faint smirk.

  “I have the conn, Sir.”

  Luke followed Savita back aft down the companionway, they both removed their white anti-flash hoods. He did his best trying to keep his eyes straight ahead and away from her swaying rear. They reached the port launch tube, she opened it and pulled out the cylindrical canister, resting it on its loading frame. She opened up a cover and checked the settings on the panel.

  “What are you checking for?”

  “I’m checking the activation sequence, these are more flexible than......” Luke didn’t listen too closely, she knew her job. He spent more time looking at her gorgeous deep black brown eyes and the soft curve of her lips. God, she’s a stunner. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he wasn’t needed in the control room and he just had to.

  “... and it all looks fine Sir.” Savita looked up at him and paused, for perhaps a little longer than she should. She smirked, it turned slowly into a coy smile, then a beaming knockout smile. Luke had to do the same. She moved perceptibly closer, then caution got the better of her and she pulled back and slid the counterm
easure back into its launcher. She moved over to the starboard launcher, casting a searching, concerned glance back over her shoulder. He didn’t want to leave but he knew he had to.

  “I’d better get back to control Lieutenant Commander.”

  “Yes Sir, I won’t be long.” He turned and made his way forward. You’re on thin ice there, he told himself, be bloody careful you idiot.

  Savita removed the tube and pulled out the countermeasure. I went too far, she thought, I went too damn far. He is the Captain, she reminded herself for perhaps the two hundredth time on the patrol. She shook her head. You stupid, stupid girl.

  BACK IN THE CONTROL room Luke checked their position on the chart. Bloody hell, twenty kilometres west-southwest of Perim Island, virtually in the Gulf of Aden, let’s face it we are in the Gulf of Aden. He knew the Kilo hadn’t been found but he had to ask, it was one of his greatest faults and greatest strengths. To hope against hope.

  “Ratty?”

  “Sorry Sir, a few transients now and then, but when I try to resolve them, they’re just a biologic.” By that, Ratty meant a Whale, a biological creature.

  “OK Ratty keep it up, let me know if you need a coast.” The Ghost headed one way then the other all the time moving gradually south, Ratty was getting increasingly frustrated. The Kilo still eluded them, like a faint myth of the seas.

  SIYAH BAMBAK HAD TURNED to the east, she’d picked up suspected transients that could have been the British boat but they weren’t conclusive. The Soviet sonar library had identified the contact as a Trafalgar class boat. Her Commander had no illusions that the enemy had given up, he knew their nature, they wouldn’t give up until they had to. As they reached the rendezvous position, he called for a quiet rise to periscope depth. Quietly, slowly the boat reached the shallows. Siyah Bambak raised her periscope and waited. There right on time came her allies. He thumbed the lever and switched on the scope light, flashing a signal to the lead ship.

  “CAPTAIN, BRIDGE WATCH here. Signal light to the forward starboard quarter.” Captain Hijazi made his way to the bridge, picked up binoculars and looked out to sea, there low in the water was a flashing light. He recognised the stream of flashes in Persian requesting an acknowledgement.

  “Signalman, reply and take down the message.”

  “Yes, Sir.” He acknowledged the signal and took down a series of flashes. “Sir, authentication codes match the Siyah Bambak.” The signalman wrote down the rest of the message and passed it to his Captain. Captain Hijazi turned grey, he slammed his fist down onto the chart table.

  “Damn bastards.”

  “Signalman make to Siyah Bambak... He passed his message on to the submarine.

  “The signal was acknowledged, Sir.”

  “Very good. Pass my message along with the message we got from the Siyah Bambak across to the Sahand.”

  “Sir.”

  Sahand’s Captain read the message and cursed, “Ingliis hardmzddah.” Questioning whether any of the Holy Ghost’s crew knew their Fathers. The Siyah Bambak downed her scope, flooded two forward buoyancy chambers and sank into the depths. She turned to the north-west, and now the hunted became the silent hunter.

  RATTY SOUTHWORTH LOOKED up. “Conn Sonar, I have two surface contacts heading this way, the library identifies them as Iranian navy Arvand class frigates. Range eighteen kilometres, bearing one fifteen degrees,” Ratty turned to his Captain, “depth one hundred meters too shallow.” Luke smiled. It was one hundred meters from the sea surface to the seabed here.

  “I hear you Ratty. Exec, what do you think?”

  “It can’t be a coincidence that they’re out here, so far from the Gulf. They must be bound for rendezvous with the Kilos.”

  “I agree.” Luke lowered his voice and looked into the middle distance. “What will the Siyah Bambak do? He knows we sunk the Nahang.” He had to think the way the enemy did, my priority would be to get the Siyah Bambak to safe harbour in Bandar Abbas, but. They’d be royally hacked off at losing Nahang, they’d know that the culprit was in the vicinity and they outnumbered it three to one. It maybe just too tempting for them.

  “Weps, get me information on the Arvand class.”

  “Sir.” She had the files stored on tape, within a few minutes she had the data on screen, Luke walked over and looked over Savita’s shoulder at her monitor. Arvand class, fifteen hundred tons, thirty nine knots. Armament, C-802 anti-ship missiles, a 4.5 inch main gun, twin 35mm Anti-aircraft guns. None of that was an issue for us he thought, he looked at her ASW equipment. Their anti-submarine warfare tools were a Limbo ASW mortar and two 325mm torpedo tubes. A type 170 sonar she carried would be her ears. The Limbo was a forward pointing, three-barrel mortar with a maximum range of nine hundred meters. Limbo was basically, an update of the devices used in the Second World War, an old design but effective when used by skilled operators in the right conditions. It wouldn’t do to underestimate it.

  “I think they’re coming for us Exec.” Luke smiled, “Let’s make them welcome.”

  “What do the ROE say about this?” asked Commander Davis.

  “Just sink the Kilos. But we can defend ourselves if attacked,” Luke gave his Exec a grin, “we’ll just have to make sure we are.”

  “Come to one eight zero degrees, fifteen knots.”

  “One eight zero, fifteen aye, Sir.”

  “Ratty, I’m going to be doing some aspect change maneuverers for you. Make it count, we need to know where that bloody Kilo is.” The Ghost headed south, Luke knew the Siyah Bambak would be expecting Ghost to be following them. They’d head back to face the Ghost head on. Or would they? The Frigates would almost certainly know what had happened and they’d proceed on the surface to Ghost’s expected position. Luke was going to trail south towing the Lure and then turn east to get a ninety degree aspect change. This can help with the detection of ships and submarines. After ten minutes running south, Luke said, “Come to four five degrees.”

  “Four five aye Sir.” The deck tilted down on the left causing the crew to lean to the right to compensate. The streaming Lure wouldn’t be quite so sensitive on the turn so they’d wait for it to straighten out again. After a couple of minutes. Ratty raised his arms and shook his fists.

  “Conn Sonar. Sub surface contact, it’s faint but it’s him, it’s the Kilo. We got the Bastard. Sorry, Sir.”

  “It’s OK Ratty, well done what’s he up to?”

  “Heading north-west Sir, I can’t be more exact than that. Bearing three three five degrees, range fourteen kilometres. The two skimmers are following behind.” Ratty used submarine service slang for a surface ship. There was some disdain for the surface Navy. A common known fact amongst the submarine service is that there are two types of naval vessel, submarines and targets. Luke wanted to take out the Kilo as a priority, those were his orders. He had to come to a decision, after running through the possibilities, he made his mind up.

  “Come to zero degrees.”

  “Zero aye Sir,” said the Planesman. The Ghost made her way to the north.

  “What’s the heading to the nearest Frigate?”

  “Three four three, range twelve kilometres, Sir.”

  “Come to three two zero, speed twenty knots.”

  “Three two zero, twenty aye Sir.” Over twenty minutes Holy Ghost took up a position well astern of the Sahand.

  “Blow one, make your depth fifty, come to three hundred. Rewind the Lure.”

  “Depth fifty, three hundred aye Sir.”

  “Count me the range Ratty.”

  “Three kilometres Sir.” HMS Holy Ghost closed on the Iranian Frigate.

  “One point five kilometres.” Luke was tempted to come up and take a quick look through the periscope but he resisted the urge.

  “Five hundred meters.”

  “Increase revs,” there was a wait, “range?”

  “Eighty metres,”

  “Ease off on the revs. Range?” said Luke.

  “Twenty metres,”

&
nbsp; “Make your depth thirty.” Luke raised the periscope and looked into it. It was where he wanted it, still below the surface.

  “We’re too close Sir,” said Ratty.

  Luke held his hand up but remained looking through the periscope. Holy Ghost moved up close behind the Frigate’s stern. Long seconds later he said.

  “There she is. Ease off on the revs.” There was a pause. “Not so much, increase speed slightly”, he waited for several seconds, “ease off slightly, slowly now. There, that’s it.” He selected the camera function and took a shot. Then pressed print.

  “Ease off the revs a tiny wee bit. Take a look at the picture Ratty”

  Ratty Southworth picked up the picture and stared in shock.

  “Fuck me.” The spinning prop of the Frigate was just five metres away. HMS Holy Ghost had under hulled Sahand.

  The Ghost could ride undetected, shielded by the noise from the Frigate’s prop. The crew above would be totally unaware that the very thing they hunted, five thousand tons of nuclear submarine was just a few meters below them.

  Chapter 6

  “INCREASE REVS.” THE prop loomed slightly larger and could be clearly seen, spinning in the gloom green sea. It was a high work rate under hulling a ship, speed up, slow down, you couldn’t take your eyes off it for a moment. The trick would be knowing when to break off and find the Kilo. Although they were shielded by the Frigate’s noise they were also deaf themselves.

  “Mr Cartwright, how far are we from last contact with Tango two when we were outbound from the Red Sea?” The navigation officer checked his chart.

  “Nine kilometres Sir.”

  “Ease off on the revs a little.” Luke made his judgment based on his calculations and an instinct for his quarry’s tactics, he waited ten minutes and decided to take a look down there. Ease off on the revs, more, more.” Holy Ghost fell back behind the Frigate. “That’s it, flood one and two, down angle fifteen, make your depth one twenty, speed six knots, stream the Lure.” The Holy Ghost plunged into the deeps.