The Iranian Blockade

by Stephen Makk

  “Lieutenant Commander Lemineux. When we get to our station, stream the buoy and report our position, ask for our orders.”

  “Sir.”

  Two hours later Lemineux handed him communication. “From the DOD Sir.”

  He read it. “COB, get Innes to make ready for another dive, we’ll be bringing Anupa back aboard. Planesman, your heading is North, speed twelve knots.”

  INS MARMAHI (EEL)

  THE GHADIR CLASS MINI submarine cruised slowly down the channel in-between Bandar Abbas and the Island of Qeshm.

  The sonar operator listened carefully. They were in home waters not far from the naval dock, but still he listened. Fleet orders had told them that their sister boat Salmon was hunting them tonight or tomorrow. It would look to penetrate the port’s defences, Eel was a vital part of these.

  The boat’s task was to protect Iran’s coastal areas, not to range far outside the Gulf. Ghadir class is a littoral, coastal submarine, at ninety-five feet long they displace one hundred and twenty tons. With a crew complement of eighteen, the vessel is equipped with two tubes armed with Chinese Yu-6 torpedoes. These guided weapons have a range of twenty-eight miles and an attacking speed of sixty knots. They’re the equivalent of the Mk48. In the context of the Persian Gulf the Ghadir’s range has been described as sufficient.

  “Sir, I detect a vessel, no wave wash patterns, sound reflections indicate subsurface contact.”

  “Ghadir class?” asked Captain Lakarani.

  “I’m analysing the passive returns, Sir.”

  The Salmon’s Captain was an experienced submariner Lakarani knew, he served with him onboard the Octopus some years earlier. To “sink” a former commander would be an endless source of jokes and banter.

  “Sir, I don’t think it’s the Salmon.”

  “What?” This was odd, the navy could be relied on to do as it said, when it said. Lakarani knew to wait, the Sonarman had proved himself to be competent. He watched as the Petty Officer listened, took notes and made calculations, checking charts as he did so.

  “Sir, it’s definitely not a Ghadir.”

  “Really?”

  “It isn’t any other submarine type we operate. It’s a foreign submarine,” he looked up at the Captain, “I’m sure of it Sir.” A foreign boat, so close to Bandar? The stakes were up several notches.

  “Any ideas of its type?”

  “It’s diesel electric. I’ve heard American and Russian nuclear boats on exercise and it’s not one of those. The best I can say is a large diesel electric boat. The other Gulf navies don’t operate submarines. Sir, I’m a bit of a submarine watcher. Can I tell you what I think?”

  “Yes, go on.”

  “Sir, the nearest navy to operate them is Pakistan and I know it’s not an Agosta class it’s too quiet. The Chinese type 039B isn’t yet in service. The Indian Shishumar class was the subject of a seminar I attended at the naval academy. It doesn’t sound like one of those at all, it’s prop revolutions count is too low for the speed. That leaves the Sindhughosh class, that’s Russian and sounds like a Kilo. Sir, I don’t think it’s Pakistani or Indian. Permission to speculate?”

  “Yes, tell me what you think.” Lakarani knew the PO was good at his job.

  “It’s not from the region. So that makes it French, German, Russian, Chinese, Israeli or American. The American’s have some of those new Japanese Soryu class boats. It’s a joint project. Politically only the Israelis or the American’s have a close interest in our area,” he looked up at Lakarani, “it’s one of theirs.” The Captain agreed with him. It added up.

  “Where is he and where’s he going?”

  “Sir, he’s now fourteen miles away, heading for Bandar, depth two hundred and fifty feet, speed twelve knots.”

  “Get me an interception course.”

  “Thirty-five degrees Sir.”

  “Steer three five zero, speed ten knots.” Captain Lakarani knew that an Israeli or American boat would be here for one thing. To learn more about the Iranian navy and its capabilities. Eel would show them what the Iranian submarine service was capable of all right.

  THE IRANIAN BOAT CLOSED in on its quarry. The Captain waited several minutes. “Give me his range.”

  “Six point three miles Sir. He’s slowed to seven knots.”

  “Plansman, make speed nine knots. Sonar what’s his position?”

  “Sir, he’s nine miles south of Bandar and still heading north. Making for the west side of the port.”

  “Weapons Officer. What’s our status?” He knew, but wanted it confirmed.

  “Both tubes have Yu-6 loaded Sir.”

  “Get a firing solution on the enemy boat.” The weapons officer set dials on his console and read off the displays.”

  “Firing solution entered Sir.”

  “Hold for now Weapons officer.” He waited several minutes.

  “Range to enemy? And his position.”

  “Range two point six miles, Sir. He’s positioned five miles south of Bandar, heading north.”

  Captain Lakarani thought the situation through. An American or Israeli boat was less than three miles off a major naval base, well inside Iranian waters. He commanded an Iranian submarine, he’d one choice.

  “Flood tube one, open outer doors.”

  “Tube ready, firing solution set for tube one, Sir.” Lakarani waited several seconds.

  “Launch tube one.”

  From the bow came a vibration and a pulsing sound.

  “Torpedo away Sir. It’s running in, speed is now full attack.”

  USS Stonewall Jackson cruised slowly towards Bandar Abbas. Two and a half miles astern the Yu-6 ran in at sixty knots; in two minutes fifteen seconds she’d be split asunder and sinking.

  Chapter 7

  She arrived in Bandar Abbas early morning by bus from Tehran. It had been a gruelling journey but the airport maybe dangerous for her if the news of her assassination had got to the police.

  This could be the last meal she’d have for many hours. Anupa decided to eat at the Eastern Horse Café again. The girl at the counter tried to strike up a conversation, her Farsi wasn’t good, but she did have some. The girl realised she was heading west from the port and told her a delivery driver would be passing that way, she soon had a lift organised.

  She ate more bread and fruit and drank coffee.

  From what she’d seen Iran was a decent place. A better country than she’d expected, and she’d found the Iranian’s to be a friendly and fine people.

  She’d expected the women to be covered from head to foot in baggy dark robes. They had to cover their heads but did so only just. They wore, as far as possible jeans, figure hugging trousers and tops. Jewellery and tinted designer glasses. They exuded confidence and some defiance.

  But, their regime couldn’t be trusted with nuclear weapons. She’d done her job and put pressure on a man who could bring influence to bear. The next stage was out of her hands.

  The delivery driver turned up and they headed out of the port. She indicated the spot she wanted to leave the truck, he stopped and let her out. After a short walk, she found an area of bushes by the side of the Gulf, she sat down among the bushes concealed from traffic and waited. Her contact at the Norwegian embassy had passed on her details to the CIA via a contact in Norway. She was told to wait where she entered Iran, she’d be picked up there. Her torch signal would start at ten pm and repeat every two hours. Anupa settled in for the wait, the exfil would probably be that night.

  USS STONEWALL JACKSON slowed and made her way to the west of Bandar. Stealth was her only option, she moved carefully through the dark waters towards the Gulf coast.

  “How is Innes doing, getting ready for his dive?” Nathan asked the COB. “We don’t have long to travel now.”

  “He’s nearly done now he...”

  “Sir.” Shouted Benson. “Fish in the water. It’s running in from the south, less than three miles I’d say.”

  Nathan knew there wasn’t much
depth here, any evasion would have to be east or west.

  “All ahead.” The prop spun up to maximum revs.

  “Give me a range count Benson.”

  “One point eight miles.” Nathan waited as long as he dare.

  “Range?”

  “Nine hundred yards, he’s behind just to our starboard.” Nathan counted down.

  “Deploy countermeasures starboard side. Come to port. He counted down.

  “Fish closing Sir, it’s going terminal.”

  “Hard to port, come to south, turn into him.” Aft of the boat was a loud thump and the boat was pushed to port. The crew was thrown violently forwards as the boat was forced to a bow down position. The cabin lights turned off, the boat was in blackness for several seconds until the red emergency lights came on. The boat rolled and bucked like Nathan had never seen, alarms sounded.

  “Damage control report,” shouted the COB.

  “All head full.”

  “Power’s gone Sir,” said the Planesman, “the prop is slowing.”

  He heard a grinding noise from the rear.

  The boat was out of action. There was one choice.

  “Open all vents, full purge. Do it now.” All vent’s gushed air out into the sea, the noise filled the boat with the sound of death. The boat started to sink deeper into the depths. She fell gushing air at a fearsome rate. Then it happend. The hull struck the seabed, with a dull grinding thud. The boat slid downslope across a rocky field, the hull scraped and juddered, then came to a stop.

  The USS Stonewall Jackson lay alone in the blackness at the bottom of the straits of Hormuz.

  ABOARD INS MARMAHI; the Eel; the sonar operator reported excitedly.

  “Escaping gas, lots of it. I’ve got it Sir. Impact with the seabed, sounds like the hull is fracturing. She’s down Sir, she’s had it.”

  Captain Lakarani, grinned and slapped his console. He picked up the intercom and broadcast to the boat.

  “All hands, we’ve got him. We’ve sunk the enemy boat. He thought he could come into the Gulf and we’d just lie down and take it. Let them learn the lesson. We proved him wrong, you don’t play with the Iranian navy and you don’t play with the Eel.”

  The crew cheered, they’d taken on the great Satan, a powerful enemy and they’d won.

  NATHAN KNEW THEY WERE in a world of shit. There was one last chance.

  “Close all vents. Silence the boat.” He knew it was their last hope. Play dead.

  He held his hands up to his temples. It had been an Iranian submarine of course and it must have been a Ghadir class. The skipper would be local and know these waters, he’d used his knowledge to get close. At that range, the Yu-6 was hard to fool, and the shallow littoral environment didn’t provide much depth for an escape. His submarine was greatly inferior to the Soryu class, but he’d used the environment and his local knowledge well. The Iranian Captain had played to his strengths.

  Nathan balanced the pros and cons. They were still alive and probably had some time to attempt to salvage the situation.

  The Iranian was still out there, and USS Stonewall Jackson was incapacitated.

  “COB, let’s go aft.” The two of them entered the engineering spaces, the Engineering Officer was with two of his technicians. He turned and saw the Captain.

  “Sir, it’s bad as you know. I’m still getting the picture, but the good news is that we have life support for several hours. The electrics and a number of devices, pumps and buoyancy control valves are on backup. The worst thing is, the drive is down.”

  “I know you need time to investigate, I’ll leave the COB with you. Whatever resource you need, you’ve got it. I’ll get out of your way,” He returned to the control room. The Chief Engineer had said life support was fine for now, but he’d play safe. Nathan picked up the intercom.

  “All hands, all hands. This is the Captain. We’re looking to get the boat back in shape. The Engineering team are working hard on the issue. I need you to keep quiet and to conserve air, this will give the Engineers more time. I’ll keep you posted. Captain out.”

  They weren’t too deep here, he’d have to make a report on their situation, he entered a message into his console.

  “Lieutenant Commander Lemineux, stream the communications buoy and transmit this message.”

  PRIORITY RED

  R 2713555Z JUL 86 ZY10

  STONEWALL JACKSON

  CIA-OPS// ID C796TF722//

  TO CIA OPS LANGLEY//N18//

  NAVAL INTEL OPS/04

  MSGID/STONEWALL JACKSON 479/ ACTUAL//

  MSG BEGINS://

  DAMAGED IN ACTION WITH IRANIAN SUBMARINE. ALL HANDS UNHURT. ON THE SEABED AT #CURRENT LOCATION# THE DRIVE IS INOPERABLE, ATTEMPTING TO REPAIR.

  MSG END//

  Commander Lemineux typed in the message. He turned to Nathan.

  “Sir, message transmitted and acknowledged, the buoy is retracted.” Nathan nodded and found himself with little to do

  The submarine escape suits were stored in an easy to access space. The suits, known as Submarine Escape Immersion Equipment Mk 10 or SEIE. They were hooded and zipped up, with a clear panel for visibility. The suits, when filled with air, would allow the crew to ascend from a doomed submarine at a depth of six hundred feet. They were only in three hundred feet here, so they’d be plenty capable of using them for escape. They were known by many as WAEFFO suits. When All Else Fails Fuck Off suits. There was no need to cause more disquiet among the crew by getting these out and circulating them.

  AFTER HALF AN HOUR he walked aft to the Engineering section and found the Engineering Officer. He was covered in grease and sweat.

  “What’s the sitrep?” asked Nathan.

  “Sir, it’s basically the shaft seals, and the gearbox has taken a bashing. We’re looking to replace the main shaft seal, we expect we’ll have it done in a few hours. We have another crew on the gearbox. They’re getting ready to take the cover off and fit a new feed shaft. It’s a big job and a slow job. When it’s done we’ll be slower and there’ll be no deep dives. As an estimate, a few hours is all I can say.”

  “Thanks, you’re doing a great job.”

  LIEUTENANT KAMINSKI sat at her chart table and accessed her console. There wasn’t too much for her to do so she set about charting three different ways out of their location. She was starting the third when she heard it.

  “XO?” the Executive officer Lieutenant Commander Larry Sayers walked across to her.

  “Yes, Lieutenant?”

  “Squat down Sir, can you hear it?” He squatted down and listened.

  “Yeah I can.” The XO stood and walked aft, a couple of minutes later he returned with an A-Ganger.

  “There, open the floor inspection cover.” The A-Ganger opened the cover and shone his torch in. He reached in with his arm, then leaned back into the room and licked his fingers.

  “That’s it Sir, it’s seawater.” The XO looked into the space himself with the A-Gangers torch.

  “Thanks, it looks like quite a flow rate, go and get the Chief Engineer.” A few minutes later he appeared, looking like the Grease Monkey that he was. He inspected the floor space.

  “Shit, XO we have a leak. We’ve had some leakage from the shaft seal but nothing like this. I’ll get a bilge pump, at least we can eject it via the sanitary tank. These things can be a devil to trace. I’ll get people on it.”

  NATHAN DIDN’T WANT to, but he’d had to grab an hour or so’s sleep. He immerged from his cabin and soon saw various engineering staff pulling floor panels up and making inspections. The XO told him what was going on and why.

  “Sir, the torpedo room says they’re three feet deep in there.” Nathan shook his head.

  “Tell them we’re on it.”

  He walked over to Kaminski’s chart area.

  “Hi, well done spotting the leak. It’s the last thing we need down here but we need to know about it. Are things fine?”

  “Yes Sir, I’m a bit bored, I’ve plotted exit routes fr
om here but there’s not a lot else.”

  He couldn’t show it to the crew, but he just wanted to talk with her, he knew it wasn’t that easy. He was Commander, the boat came first, and laid on the bottom of the strait wasn’t a good place to be.

  “I know but first we have to get the hell out of here. Then you’ll have things to do.” He smiled.

  “Yes Sir. Fresh air suddenly has a special appeal.” The Chief Engineer walked into the control room.

  “Sir, we’ve found it.” Nathan got the XO over to join them.

  “It’s in the sanitary tank, the seawater valve is leaking.”

  “Can we fix it,” asked the XO.

  “Yes Sir,” said the Engineering officer hesitantly.

  “XO,” said Nathan, “can you hear a But coming?” Lieutenant Commander Sayer’s nodded.

  “We can fix it. We can stop the leak quickly by pressurizing the area by the sanitary tank to

  a higher pressure than the seawater depth, three hundred feet. No more water would enter, stopping the leak.” He smiled, “Here’s the But. Whilst we’re fixing the valve, there’ll be a constant air escape through the broken valve, which will be detectable by the enemy. It’ll also make a sound that a sonar might pick up.”

  “So, we’re fucked if we do, and fucked if we don’t,” said Sayers.

  “I have an idea,” said the Engineering Officer. He took a breath.

  “We put an A-Ganger in with all the tools and spares he’ll need. We close bulkhead doors five and six, then pressurise the space to the one hundred and forty psi pressure we’ll need to stop the leak and get him to work. We can rig this by rerouting the ballast air system. Once it’s fixed, we’ll need to decompress the space slowly, so as not to give him the bends.”

  “Let’s do it,” said Nathan, “Larry?”