“Prepare to change course,” Penny said, for the benefit of the helmsman.
“Very well,” the helmsman said, in the time honored fashion.
“Change course to heading 70 degrees north,” Penny said formally.
The helmsman turned the wheel to the right, met the turn, and made a slight correction. “Very well, ma’am. We are on heading 70 degrees north.”
Soto eyed the chart. His orders were to rendezvous with the ballistic missile submarine Nevada, 75 miles north of Kaktovik, Alaska in the Beaufort Sea. And Soto knew that even though he wasn’t excited about the trip—the Nevada’s crew was looking forward to the fresh food, spare parts and most of all the mail that his ship was bringing to them. The poor bastards. Spending up to seventy days locked in a 560 foot long pipe with 155 other people was Soto’s idea of hell. He turned to Penny. “I’m going on the tour.” He held the radio up for her to see. “Call if you need me.”
Penny treasured the moments when she was in command, and the last thing she wanted to do was call Soto and request help. But she would if it was necessary. “Aye, aye sir. And remember your diet.”
“No cinnamon rolls on the mess deck.”
“Yes, sir. That’s what you said.”
Soto made a face. “I hate you.”
The bridge crew chuckled as he left.
The tour was a daily ritual and Soto’s opportunity to check with the various departments aboard his ship. The inspection included a peek at the fitness center, a pause in front of the ship’s tiny store, and a moment in the barber shop .
Other departments came in for greater scrutiny. They included the mess deck, where the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls called to him, and the sickbay, where Dr. Nelson had his feet up on a stool and was reading a book.
Then Soto was off to visit the engineering control room. That was the long narrow space from which the so-called “Snipes” controlled six diesel powered service generators and three propulsion gas turbines, not to mention all of the Dawn’s critical subsystems.
Six flat screen monitors were mounted on the bulkhead, over an equal number of control panels. It was the heart of the ship, and therefore of particular interest to Soto. The Chief Engineer was off duty, which meant his number two was on, and Soto could feel the tension in the compartment.
Lieutenant Fred Norris was in his late thirties which made him old for his rank. So old that the engineer would have been pushed out of the service had it not been for the war. As a result the ship was stuck with the man generally referred to as “His Highness.” Fortunately Norris was a competent engineer, even if his interpersonal skills were lacking. “Good morning,” Soto said, as he entered the room. “How’s it going?”
“All systems are performing within normal parameters,” Norris answered pedantically. “Although shaft three is running two degrees hotter than optimal.”
A chief petty officer was seated behind Norris. He rolled his eyes. Soto refused to take the bait. Norris was an officer, and Soto wasn’t about to undermine his authority. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Let’s keep an eye on that. I assume that all of the off duty engineering staff will attend tonight’s showing of Beach Blanket Bingo .”
A cheer went up. Most of the crew loved to watch any movie that had to do with sun, beaches, and scantily clad women. Even if the movie was more than fifty years old, and most of the actors were dead. Soto waved as he left.
Soto’s final stop was in what had previously been designated as the ship’s science section. But rather than the marine oceanographers, biologists, and climate scholars of the past the Dawn was now host to a navy chief petty officer, and his band of piratical gunners mates.
Chief Wright and his men were convened in a large work room which was serving as a makeshift armory. A sailor shouted “Attention on deck!” as Soto entered, and all of them came to attention. Soto didn’t get that level of respect from his own crew, nor did he feel a need to. A partially disassembled fifty-caliber machine gun was laid out on a stainless steel table like a patient in surgery. “As you were. What are you people up to?”
Chief Wright had dark slicked-back hair, a pencil thin mustache, and a square jaw. He radiated physicality. “We’re going over all of the ship’s small arms, sir. And, because regular lubricants can’t retain the level of viscosity required in subzero temperatures, we’re applying a product called ‘Bio Artic.’ It’s a blend of synthetic materials and vegetable oil. Then, after lunch, we’re going to do an hour of PT, and run drills on the five. Sir. ”
Soto assumed that “the five” was a reference to the abomination that was bolted onto the forward deck. As Soto scanned the faces around him he saw that the sailors were staring at him like a band of inquisitive meerkats. And every single one of them had a mustache! Was that a sign of solidarity? A navy thing? There was no way to know. “Yes, well,” Soto said awkwardly. “That sounds like a full day.”
Soto’s radio produced a squawking sound. He keyed it on. “This is the Captain.”
“Penny here … Can you join me on the bridge? ”
Soto, who was happy to escape the armory and its mustachioed crew, was quick to agree. “I’ll be there shortly.”
Soto issued a cheery, “Carry on!” and left. A series of ladders took him up to the bridge where Penny was waiting. There was a frown on her face. “Petty Officer Monk is up in the crow’s nest sir … The fog parted for a moment, and she spotted a ship. Then it disappeared.”
The crow’s nest was an enclosed box mounted halfway up the Dawn’s single mast. The purpose of the perch was to provide a ship’s officer with a vantage point from which he or she could navigate the ship through a maze of pack ice.
But now the crow’s nest had a secondary purpose, and that was to maintain a sharp lookout for enemy ships. Chances were that the vessel Monk had seen was a friendly tanker on its way south from Prudhoe Bay. But anything was possible. “Did Monk ID the ship?”
“Yes, sir. She snapped a picture.” Penny pointed to a computer screen, and Soto went to take a look. Most of the other vessel was obscured by fog. But her bow was clear to see. Soto recognized the ship immediately and knew Penny had too. That’s why she was worried.
The Narwhal was a Russian icebreaker of roughly the same tonnage as the Northern Dawn , but she had a very different appearance. While the Dawn had a white superstructure and a red hull, the Russian ship had a red superstructure and a black hull.
The Narwhal had something else as well … And that was a gaping mouth complete with shark-like teeth painted onto her bow. To symbolize what? An appetite for ice? Or something more sinister? Whatever the reason the gaping maw gave the Narwhal an ominous look.
Soto went over to look at the radar screen. There were dozens of blips. Most of them were icebergs—but one of them was a ship. Which one? And why? Was the Russian icebreaker clearing a path for a particular ship? A convoy of ships? If so, the United States Pacific Command (PACOM) would want to know.
Or, what if the Narwhal was on a reconnaissance mission? The kind that only an icebreaker could carry out. Had the Narwhal been sent to shadow the Dawn? If that was the case Soto could inadvertently lead the enemy vessel to the submarine Nevada. The sub could take care of herself while submerged. But once on the surface, in order to load supplies, the Nevada would be extremely vulnerable. It was time to pass the buck. Soto turned to Penny. “Notify PACOM of the sighting, send them the photo, and provide our position. Oh, and request instructions.”
Penny nodded and made her way back to the com shack. Soto poured himself a cup of coffee, climbed up into the elevated chair labeled “Captain,” and stared at the whiteness ahead. Icebergs slid past to port and starboard. Some were the size of ships. That made them large enough to hide ships. It was a scary thought. Penny appeared at his side. “PACOM got back to us, sir.”
And? Penny handed him a piece of paper. The text read: “PRIOR TO COMPLETING YOUR ORIGINAL MISSION, YOU WILL INTERCEPT AND SINK THE NARWHAL. ”
Sot
o could hardly believe his eyes. He read the message again. He looked at Penny. “That’s all? There’s nothing more?”
“No, sir. Nothing other than the usual mumbo jumbo.”
Soto felt a rising sense of panic. The people at PACOM clearly saw the Narwhal as a threat. To the ship’s mission? Or for some other reason? It didn’t matter. The order was clear. He’d been trained for ship-to-ship combat twenty years earlier at the Coast Guard academy.
But, unlike most Coast Guard officers, Soto had never served aboard an armed cutter. So he lacked any relevant experience. An icebreaker attacking an icebreaker? Had the world gone mad? Yes, it had .
Don’t panic , Soto told himself. Think. The first step is to find the Narwhal. So do it. Did he look confident? Soto hoped so. “Call Lieutenant Riker,” Soto said. “Tell him we’re going to launch a helicopter. Then I want you to summon all of the department heads to the bridge. That includes Chief Wright.”
Penny nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“And one more thing,” Soto added. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but sound general quarters.”
Penny gave the order and a klaxon began to bleat. A prerecorded voice said, “This is not a drill! This is not a drill! All hands to their battle stations!”
What ensued wasn’t pretty. Most of the Dawn’s crew assumed that some idiot had pressed the wrong button, and immediately phoned the bridge to complain, or simply ignored the announcement. That forced Soto to get on the PA system and tell the ship’s company that the order was for real, and to get their asses in gear. And, since none of them had heard the captain swear before, they took the admonition seriously.
Meanwhile the ship’s department heads had arrived on the bridge. All of them tried to ask questions at the same time, and Soto felt sure that such briefings were handled differently on true warships. He raised a hand. “Listen up! The Russian icebreaker Narwhal is somewhere nearby, and we have orders to sink her. Please don’t ask me to justify that … We have our orders and we will follow them.
“The first step is to find her. Lieutenant Riker will handle that. Once we know where the Narwhal is, we will close with and engage her. And be advised … She is armed. Lieutenant Penny informs me that, based on the photo Petty Officer Monk took, the Narwhal has a 57mm twin-barreled AK-725 gun mounted in her bow. So once we trade shots with her we’re likely to take casualties and suffer damage. That means we are likely to make extraordinary demands on our damage control parties and the medical department. So communicate with your people, and get ready. Chief Wright and Lieutenant Riker will remain. That is all.”
“Okay,” Soto said, once the others had left. “This won’t be easy.”
Chief Wright nodded. “No, it won’t. But my boys are ready. You’ll need to get in close though … We can only fire twenty rounds before reloading. And, since the Dawn isn’t equipped with an automated reloading system, we’ll have to do it by hand. That means humping five-inch rounds up from below, while the Russkies pound us with 57mm shells. We need to kill that bitch with twenty rounds if we can.”
That was news to Soto. It shouldn’t have been, since the information had been there for the asking, but the possibility that he would actually be called upon to use the deck gun had never occurred to him. “Thank you, Chief … That brings us to you Lieutenant. Lift off as soon as you can. We need to find that ship and get in close.”
“You have two helos,” Wright interjected. “Are they armed?”
“No,” Riker replied. “We’re flying HH-65A Dolphins. They can be armed. But it didn’t seem necessary. Not on an icebreaker.”
“Well, let’s arm them,” Wright responded. “Just say the word, and my boys will mount a fifty on each bird.”
“I don’t know,” Riker said doubtfully. “What about the recoil?”
“What about it?” Wright replied. “Would you like to defend yourself or not?”
“Hold on,” Soto interjected. “How long would it take to mount those guns?”
“An hour,” Wright replied. “Give or take. We’ll have to find a way to nail them down.”
“That’s too long,” Soto objected. “Go ahead and install a gun on bird two. But we need to put the first helo up ASAP. ”
Wright nodded. “Aye, aye, sir.”
“Okay,” Soto told them. “Make it happen.”
Riker and his copilot departed twenty minutes later. Since Riker’s two person crew wouldn’t be needed, they remained on the ship.
If there was anything that Riker and Lieutenant JG Mary Zimmer knew how to do, it was to find things, because that’s what search and rescue helicopters do. And if they could find a swimmer in the water, then they could sure as hell find a mostly red ship. Or so it seemed to Soto. Thanks to the video feed from Riker’s helo, Soto could watch as the pilot made use of the time honored expanding square search pattern. Soto saw what he expected to see. And that was drifting ice separated by patches of gently heaving water.
Monk had seen the Narwhal … But had the Russians spotted the Dawn? And if they had, were they following the American ship? Or on an errand of their own? What difference does it make? Soto thought. We have to attack them either way. It’s too bad we can’t sneak up on them. But they’ll spot the helo, and that will be that.
“Bird-Dog-One to Bird-Cage … We have a visual. Standby, we’re going to circle them.”
Soto watched the screen with great interest as the hulking icebreaker appeared. He saw sparks of light originating from various locations on the Narwhal’s superstructure and decks. “They’re firing on us,” Riker observed calmly. “The Narwhal is fifteen miles astern of the Dawn and on the same heading.”
Soto took that in. It appeared that the Russian vessel had been following the Dawn and accidentally drawn even with her earlier that morning. Furthermore it seemed logical to suppose that the Russians had been tracking the Dawn for some time. From space at first? Possibly. And they knew the icebreaker was serving as a sub tender .
That, Soto surmised, was why PACOM had given the orders they had. The Narwhal was a danger to the Nevada, and any other sub that the Dawn might have to rendezvous with in the future. “Roger that, Bird-Dog-One. Well done. Return to the ship. Over.”
“Affirmative,” Riker said. “We are …” And those were the last words he said. Soto saw a flash of light followed by static. The Dolphin was no more.
“Shit,” Penny said. “That was a shoulder launched missile.”
Soto was a peaceful man. Or he had been. But something changed during that brief moment of time. Something primal. He felt a sudden surge of anger, followed by an overwhelming need for revenge. “Put the ship about, Lieutenant. We’re going to find those bastards—and we’re going to kill them.”
A sheet of ice cracked and parted as the Dawn began to turn. Then, as the ship came onto the new course, her speed increased. The icebreakers were approaching each other at a combined speed of 10 knots, or 11mph, at that point. That would bring them into range of each other very quickly.
Soto spoke over the PA. “We are going to engage the Russian icebreaker Narwhal in a few minutes. They shot one of our helicopters down, and killed two members of our crew. This is for our country, but it’s for each one of us as well. I expect every man and woman to do their part. Remember our motto, Semper Paratus . Always Ready. That is all.”
“The second helo is ready to depart,” Penny said, as Soto returned the mike to its hook.
That meant a lieutenant named Maggie Olson was going up along with copilot Tom Drake. “What’s the status on that machine gun?” Soto inquired.
“It’s aboard, along with a navy gunner, and his assistant,” Penny said.
“Good,” Soto replied. “Clear them for takeoff. ”
Penny did so, which meant a second video feed was available for Soto to watch, as the Dolphin left the helipad on the ship’s stern. He keyed the mike. “Bird-Cage to Bird-Dog-Two … Stay well back from the Narwhal , and out of range. Your job is to show us what’s goin
g on. Over.”
“This is Two,” Olson said. “Roger that … But we have a visual on a Russian Mi-17. It’s airborne and headed our way. I will engage.”
Events had overtaken Soto yet again. All he could do was watch helplessly, as the Dolphin turned, and the enemy helicopter came into view. And there, in the distance, was the Narwhal herself. Mouth agape, steaming straight at him.
Why hadn’t he thought about the possibility of a Russian helicopter? Because you’re out of your league , Soto thought. You need to focus .
“The lookout in the crow’s nest has visual contact with the Narwhal,” Penny informed him. “And the navy spotter says that we’re in range.”
Soto remembered what Wright had told him. “You’ll need to get in close.”
“Tell the gunners to hold their fire,” Soto said. “We can’t afford to miss.”
As Soto turned his attention back to the monitor he discovered that the aerial battle was underway. Puffs of dirty gray smoke blew away from the Mi-17’s belly-mounted gun pod. The camera swung to the left as Olson turned. The fifty! They were about to fire the machine gun out of the Dolphin’s side door. The one they normally used for rescues.
“We’re taking hits,” Olson said grimly. “But we’re fighting back.”
Then the scene changed as the Dolphin turned. That was necessary so that the helicopter’s gunner could track the Mi-17. And Soto could hear Olson shouting instructions. “Lead the bastard! ”
Soto heard a whoop of joy from what he assumed to be the helo’s copilot, followed by a terse announcement from Olson herself. “The Mi-17 is trailing smoke … We’re in hot pursuit.” As the camera swung around Soto saw that it was true. His initial impulse was to call Olson off, and allow the Russians to land if they could. Then he remembered Riker and Zimmer. “Roger that, Bird-Dog-Two. Finish them off.”
“The Narwhal opened fire,” Penny announced. And when Soto looked up from the monitor he was shocked to see how close the other ship was! Soto saw twin flashes and felt the impact as Russian shells struck the lower part of the Dawn’s superstructure. “This is the captain … Return fire, and make every shot count!”
Red Ice Page 10
