by M. L. Maki
“Don’t you have to clear that with someone?”
Truman grins, “Oh yeah.” He looks right, “Executive Officer of Jet school, do you think Lieutenant Thorne can work for you?” He looks left, “Sure. She’ll be ready to fly instructor before you will.” He looks at her, “Done.”
She smiles, “Okay. I can instruct. I just want to do something worthwhile.”
“Did you lose your service record in Germany?”
“Yeah. I was a prisoner.”
“We have one of our aircrew captured. It terrifies me. That’s another object lesson your presence can teach. I’ll get you a notebook so you can write down your commissioning date, command history, qualifications, and awards. I’ll forward it to Lee’s staff, and we’ll put together your record. It may end up spotty in a few areas, but we’ll do our best.”
“Thank you, Johnny.”
“No problem, Rose.”
USS SAN FRANCISCO, 450 MILES SOUTH EAST OF ICELAND
0120, 1 July, 1942
Miller, “Ahead 1/3.” The Frisco comes off a highspeed run and slows as they approach the next area of reported submarines.
Johnson, “Conn, Sonar. The convoy is at 257.”
Miller, “Very well.”
Morrison walks in and straight to the table.
Miller joins him, “Ten subs in eight days.”
Morrison, “I know. Coordinating with Western Approaches has multiplied our effectiveness. How are you doing?”
“Okay, I guess. Why do you have the OOD’s handle every pursuit and kill?”
Morrison, “Part of my job is training my subordinate officers. Each of you will have your own command within the next few months. When Backes leaves, I am moving you to XO, and Thoreau to Navigator. When you leave, Cutting will be XO, and Franks will be the Engineer. That, and I’ll need to do another round of commissioning. This boat is a school.”
“Will you still be in command by then?”
“I expect to stay in command the entire war. It might not happen, but then again it might.”
Johnson, “Conn, Sonar. New contact, Bearing 256. It’s a German Flight 1. Designate Sierra 11. It’s close to the convoy, sir.”
Miller, “Load Tube 1.”
U-73, SIERRA 11
“Captain, we have craft at 261, 266, 269, and 274. Range is five miles. There are more behind them.”
Kapitänleutnant Helmut Rosenbaum, “Good. Set a four-degree spread and a three-mile straight course. Match and cross check.”
“Matched and cross checked.”
“Fire 1 through 4. Reload immediately.” They feel the sub shake as the torpedoes leave the tubes.
USS SAN FRANCISCO
“Conn, Sonar. Torpedoes fired. Sierra 11 is firing at the convoy. Four fish in the water.”
Morrison, “Flood Tube 1 when loaded.”
Miller, “We need five more miles.”
“I know. He has to be pointed at the convoy. Let’s come up to ahead standard.”
“Conn, Torpedo. Flooding Tube 1.”
Miller, “I don’t like firing toward the convoy.”
Morrison, “If we fire when the convoy is still out of range, it will add a layer of safety.
“Conn, Sonar. The German torpedoes are pinging.”
Morrison walks into Sonar, “Can I hear it?”
Johnson hands him a headset. He hears multiple pings, then the loud explosions. He sweeps the headphones off. “Woah. How many hits?”
Johnson points at the waterfall, “Three.”
“Shit. Okay.” He walks into control, “Steve, can we fire?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please do so. He’s reloading.”
Miller, “Fire 1.” Thud, whoosh.
U-73, SIERRA 11
“Captain, a torpedo is coming at us from 094.”
Kapitänleutnant Helmut Rosenbaum, “Flood the stern tube. Set to counterfire.”
USS SAN FRANCISCO
“Conn, Sonar. Sierra 11 is flooding a tube.”
Morrison, “Okay. They typically had stern tubes. They fired at the convoy from about five miles. We should be out of range.”
Miller, “Ten, nine, eight…”
“Conn, Sonar. Sierra 11 has fired.”
Morrison, “Very well.”
Miller, “…two, one, impact.”
“Conn, Sonar. No bearing change.” They hear the sounds of the explosion, then the breaking up of the submarine.
Morrison, “Very well. Left full rudder. Ahead full.”
The order is repeated.
“Conn, Sonar. The torpedo motor has stopped.”
Morrison, “How far did it go?”
“Seven and a half miles.”
BLOHM + VOSS SHIPYARD, HAMBURG, GERMANY
0830, 3 July, 1942
Admiral Doenitz climbs down into the engine room of the experimental submarine, “So Doctor Walter, how does this work?”
“The fuel is the same as for our jets use. The oxygen comes from very pure hydrogen peroxide. They are mixed by using two rings of mechanical injectors into a turbine similar to that used by jets, yet much smaller. The turbine spins a generator. The exhaust is routed out the rear of the sail. In that, it is quite simple.”
“Our turbine production must be set aside for aircraft.”
“Of course. This is a test vessel to prove the theory. I am also working on a diesel. It is much more challenging.”
“Why?”
“The turbine uses a steady stream of fuel and oxidizer. The engine requires precisely measured injections for each cylinder. It is a challenge.”
“Carburetors use a steady stream of fuel. Why must we use injection for each cylinder?”
“It is the nature of the oxidizer. It is extremely unstable. The further from the cylinder it is introduced to the fuel, the more likely it will chemically interact and foul the process.”
“I see. This Unterseeboot has a diesel. Is this contingency for generator failures.”
“Yes, sir. This is an experimental vessel.”
“The concept is good. Shift your focus to the diesel. There is no reason to pursue technology we will never use. Design a boat that is purely electric. Two generators are air independent and two snorkel driven. I am told submarines of 1990 had a single large propeller. Plan for that. My office will need the thrust requirements, as we have another group designing the propellers. Very good, doctor.”
USS SAN FRANCISCO, 125 MILES NORTH EAST OF THE AZORES
1910, 7 July, 1942
Gordon says, “Conn, Sonar. New contact, bearing 274. Designate Sierra 17.”
Cutting, “Ahead 1/3.” He pushes the button, “Captain, another sub.”
“Set it up and get behind it. We’ll be in when we finish the board.”
“Yes, sir.”
Morrison, Backes, and Miller are giving Lt. Michael Simmons his oral board in the wardroom. Morrison, “Okay Simmons, we’re at 800 feet in the gulf stream east of Jacksonville running under a convoy of 86 ships. You get the call, fire in the Aux room. What are your actions?”
Simmons takes a deep breath and goes through all the required actions to save the boat.
Backes, “List everything that could cause reduced sonar effectiveness?”
Simmons goes through the list.
Morrison, “The German pocket battleship Scharnhorst is 100 miles away. We have two Harpoons and two Mark-48’s. Explain how you would maneuver the boat to engage your target, and which weapon you would use.
Simmons, “We have more torpedoes then sub launched Harpoons, and the torpedo is more likely to kill the target with one shot.” He goes over how he would set it up.
Miller asks, “The aft trim tank is half full and the forward trim tank is near empty. How many people would you need to put into torpedo to balance the boat?”
Simmons shows his math and calculates the number.
Lt. Cutting calls in, “Captain, we are ten miles astern of Sierra 17. It is a confirmed Flight 2.”
Morrison, “Thank you, Craig. Please take the shot and pass the countdown over the box.”
“Yes, sir.” They feel the thud whoosh. The submarine then rolls into a right turn.
The countdown starts.
The board continues for the several minutes it takes for the torpedo to hit and the concussion of the explosion to reverberate through the hull.
Cutting calls, “Good kill, skipper.”
“Thank you. Let’s clear datum to the west for an hour or so, then check in.”
Simmons, “Sir, you didn’t even go on the bridge.”
“Craig knows his job. He doesn’t need me to micromanage. Next question. We surfaced to check for survivors of a submarine that did an emergency blow before sinking. The water is relatively warm, and you see twenty-eight German survivors floating in the water. We’re too far to get help from another vessel or helicopter. What would you do?”
“That’s difficult, sir. Law of the sea requires that we pick them up. Twenty-eight is so many that they might attempt to overthrow our vessel. I would make preparations on the mess decks to hold them securely. Then search each one before he is brought aboard, cleaned, inspected by the doc, and held on the mess decks. We bring them in one at a time by Neil Robertson stretcher. Once they’re all aboard, I would submerge and beat a path to somewhere where they could be turned over.”
Morrison, “I have no further questions. Gentlemen?” He looks at the other three. They nod. “Lieutenant, could you step outside while we deliberate?”
“Yes, sir.”
Once he is gone Morrison asks, “Any concerns?”
Miller says, “He knows his business thoroughly. I’m frankly impressed.”
Backes says, “He’s a solid officer. His technical knowledge of boat systems is solid, and he is a 4.0 nuke. But, sir, it would good if he’d just relax a bit.”
Morrison grins, “True, but he’s getting better. You know that comes with experience.”
Backes, “First, gentlemen, that was a ball breaker of a board. He kept his composure and worked the problems. Thumbs up.”
Morrison, “So that is four up votes. Steve, could you invite him in for the good news?”
CHAPTER 7
VICE ADMIRAL LEE’S OFFICE, NAVAL YARD, WASHINGTON, DC
0830, 8 July, 1942
Lee’s yeoman knocks on his door, “Sir, General Arnold to see you.”
Lee puts down the report he is reading, “Send him in.”
Hap Arnold walks in and Lee stands to meet him, “Good Afternoon, sir.” He offers a hand.
Arnold takes it, “Will you stop stealing my officers.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“You have commissioned another one of my officers out from under me.”
“Sir, we both know it’s illegal to hold two commissions at once. What’s his name and rank?”
“Her name is Ashley Thorne.”
Lee cocks his head, “I thought the Army rejected creating female officers.”
“She’s a time traveler. One of your flyboys swore her in. I want her back in the role I have for her.”
“What role is that, sir?”
“She is going to run the WASPs. She’s my first choice.”
“Is that what she agreed to do?”
“Don’t be coy. You know what happened.”
“I do, sir. You met one of your flyers, who’d survived a hell, I’m certain neither of us could have survived, and the first thing you had to say to her was not to ask her how she was doing, how she felt, or what she wanted. You fired her. Took away her record, and then, having made her a civilian, you assumed she would still want to work for you. With that kind of attitude, frankly, I’m amazed anyone works for you.”
“It wasn’t like that. You’re out of line.”
“Am I, sir? Is that how you would treat a male aviator repatriated after being captured? You would promptly fire them and take away their record?”
“No. No. I wasn’t cruel to her and she’s a special case. The Secretary made the decision.”
“And you went to bat for her with him?”
“She is not the first you’ve commissioned. You will stop poaching my pilots.”
“If the WASPs held a commission, I could never touch them. As long as you treat your female aviators like second class citizens, I will continue to poach the best of them. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“You need to learn how to play ball in this town. You’re making a huge mistake crossing me.”
“You made a bigger mistake with Lieutenant Thorne. Any leader who would treat a subordinate as you treated her, does not deserve my respect and will not receive it.”
“Where is she?”
“None of your fucking business, sir.”
“Were you the one who assigned her to Bethesda instead of Walter Reed?”
Lee smiles, “That would have been clever, now wouldn’t it? Good day, General.”
FLIGHT LINE, NAS PENSACOLA, FLORIDA
0800, 9 July, 1942
The F-1 War Eagle comes to a stop with the canopy up. Lieutenant Ashley Thorne shuts the engine down, a huge smile on her face. Shut down checks complete, she climbs out of the bird. As soon as her boots hit the tarmac, she’s sprayed down with champagne.
LCDR Truman “Johnny” Walker, Lt. Phil “Rascal” Tyler, and CDR Bob ‘Judge’ Bean each shake their bottle and spray her down. Rather than run from it, she opens her mouth to catch the cold drops, “Oh, my God. Do you guys have any idea how good that felt?”
Johnny, leaning on a cane, “I will in a couple more months.”
SS INTERROGATION CELL, SOMEWHERE IN BERLIN
1423, 10 July, 1942
The credits for ‘Hunt for Red October’ run and SS- Oberführer Otto Von Bergan shuts the film off. “Now, Sergeant, wasn’t that fun. We have more films to watch. Your housing area has been so helpful. Let us talk about this one.”
“I’m a supply clerk in the Airforce. I know nothing about submarines.”
“I believe you know more than you think. Your wife and daughter are counting on your memory being good.”
Sergeant Amos Wright just lowers his head.
“How old is your little girl? Eight? Nine”
“Nine.”
“I have a thousand soldiers hoping to make your little girl a mommy. Now, is the Dallas a real submarine?”
“Yes. We had dozens of them.”
“What powers them?”
“Nuclear power plants. I’ve no idea how they work except that they use fission which breaks atoms apart.”
“What kind of atoms?”
“I’m not sure. Uranium, I think. It could be something else.”
“How often do they have to surface?”
“I have heard they only have to come up for food, maintenance, and crew rest.”
“How fast are they?”
“I don’t know. Fast. I don’t even know how ships measure speed. It’s more important that they are quiet.”
“Good. That is helpful. How quiet are they.”
“I don’t know. Someone once told me that they were so quiet that they had to install speakers to make fish sounds, so they couldn’t be tracked as a quiet part of the ocean. It’s just a rumor.”
“How effective are their torpedoes?”
“I don’t know. I’ve heard that our torpedoes are very, very smart. So smart that noise makers like in the movie won’t fool them.”
“Do you know if submarines deployed with carrier groups?”
“I have no idea.”
“Okay, you are being helpful.”
“Can I see my family?”
“Not quite. In the base theater was a movie called Navy Seals. What do you know about Navy Seals?”
“They are special forces. SEAL stands for sea, air, land. They can do stuff like blow up ships or sneak up and kill people. In the military, Navy SEALs are legend. I don’t know enough to separate truth from fiction. They
can parachute, or swim into an area where they have a mission.”
“Can they swim out of a submarine?”
“I assume so. Submarines have air locks, right?”
“What about swimming in cold water?”
“I have heard of them practicing swimming in the arctic.”
“Very good. Most helpful.”
“Can I see my family?”
“We have one more movie. This one is called ‘Top Gun’.”
HOLY LOCH SCOTLAND
1112, 11 July, 1942
Ensign Brown watches the USS Beaver sailors finish pounding the support posts for twenty-four metal, stone, and wood targets into the mud. The distance between each target, and his depth finder, has been carefully measured out.
Lt. Kichiro walks out of the instrument shed on the barge, “This should work once the tide finishes coming in.”
“Yeah. In the mud, there shouldn’t be any spurious signals. At least, I am hoping not.”
“If this works, we’re pretty much ready for the boat. We still need a dry dock.”
The sailors come up in a rowboat, “Will that work, sir?”
Brown, “It will, thank you.” The tide floods in, raising the barge.
Some of the sailors turn and look down the loch. Brown’s eyes follow their gaze. A large tugboat appears. It is towing something huge. The dry dock has arrived.
Brown, “Good. Hopefully, it still works after the crossing.”
Kichiro, “I know the officer in charge. It’ll be fine.”
“Who is he?”
“Lt. JG Maki. He was a nuke machinist mate a few months ago, and he is squared away.”
“Simmons squared away?”
Kichiro laughs, “No, no ramrod. He knows his business, that’s all. We met near Bremerton and he helped me a lot with local and Navy protocol stuff. He’s like you in that he reads like crazy. Anyway, do we have enough water?”
Brown looks at how much stick is above the water, “We can start testing.” He uses a crank handle to lower the transducer under the water, then walks into the shed.
Kichiro stands by the table, watching as Brown starts it all up. “Using an Atari as a graphic processor is brilliant.”
