by David Capps
“Yes, they were,” Silverton agreed. “Whoever they are they didn’t succeed. They were picked up on the Low Frequency Active system and the SOSUS net. What do you make of the sound signature?” The SOSUS, or Sound Surveillance System analyzed the sounds recorded by the hydrophone network resting on the floor of the Pacific Ocean and identified everything from nearly silent submarines to migrating whales and other undersea life.
For decades the U.S. Military had been combining the visual images of ships and submarines leaving their home port with the sound signatures of those ships and subs collected by U.S. nuclear submarines lying in wait outside their harbors. The result was a comprehensive computer database able to identify any warship in the world by the sound it made in the water.
“That’s the thing,” Jacobs replied. “The SOSUS says the prop signature matches an old Alfa class Russian sub that according to this message was decommissioned in 1996 and cut up into scrap. Obviously that didn’t happen. But why an old Alfa? The Russians certainly have newer subs that would do the job. Why resurrect something that old?”
“Somebody’s running a covert op,” Silverton said. “What we don’t know is whether the op is intelligence based, or operational based.”
That’s what we have to determine,” Jacobs replied. “In order to do that, we have to find the damned thing.” Jacobs picked up the microphone for the 1MC, the main communications system on the Massachusetts. “This is the Captain. A ghost sub has entered U.S. waters on a covert mission. Our job is to locate that sub and determine what it is doing in our back yard. This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill. Rig for silent running.”
Jacobs turned to Silverton. “Any ideas?”
“The location where it crossed the hydrophone net is quite a ways north of our current position, so if we assume a covert mission will take it closer, rather than farther from the coast, we should move close to the coast and work our way north until we find it.”
“Good choice,” Jacobs replied. “With our flank-mounted, passive sonar arrays, we can cover a wide swath of water. Send a request to COMSUBPAC in Hawaii to have a Virginia Class sub sweep the coastal area in parallel to us. The Virginia class is better suited to coastal operations while we’re best suited to deep water. Between the two subs we can cover more of the ocean and we stand a better chance of finding this ghost sub.”
“Aye-aye, Sir,” Silverton said.
Silverton was an experienced officer and was on a career path to become a submarine captain. This was his first assignment as an XO since making Commander and he needed some seasoning. The Massachusetts was a good place to learn. Silverton would make a good sub captain one day, but he still had a ways to go.
“Request sent and approved, Captain,” Silverton reported. “Now what?”
“The old Russian Alfas ran deep.” Jacobs said. “They were one of the reasons the Seawolf class was developed. The Virginia class sub will cover the twenty-to-thirty miles along the coast. Plot a course 60 miles parallel to the coast and head north at sixteen knots. If the ghost sub turned south, we want to come up on it as quietly as possible. Thermal layers will isolate the sound to specific layers, so make your depth 1,500 feet. That should leave a lot of the surface noise behind so we can focus on our ghost sub.”
“Aye-aye, Sir,” Silverton answered.
“Notify me if you hear anything.”
Silverton nodded and turned his attention to the men in the control center. “Come to a heading of 045 degrees; make your depth 1500 feet.”
“Course 045 degrees, depth 1500, aye-aye, Sir,” the helmsman replied.
“Once you reach 60 miles from the coast, come to a heading of 300 degrees and maintain depth at 1500.” Satisfied with Silverton’s orders, Jacobs retired to his cabin.
The officers of the Massachusetts met in the wardroom for lunch. Everyone was present except for a Lieutenant Junior Grade who remained on duty in the control center as the OOD, or Officer Of the Deck. Each officer was required, in addition to his or her main assignment, to spend some time as the OOD, mostly to become familiar with the command and overall operation of the boat. Once the meal was finished and the stewards cleared the dishes, leaving the officers alone in the wardroom, the conversation quickly turned to the ghost sub.
“What do we actually know about the ghost sub?” Tiffany asked. She was one of two female officers on the Massachusetts, the other one being a young Ensign currently assigned to supplies and general maintenance of the boat.
“We’re looking for an old Russian Alfa,” Lieutenant Commander Stephanos, the sonar officer replied. “They’re small and fast. The sound signature match is only 91% instead of the usual 98%, so some changes have been made over the years since it was last in the water.” Stephanos had been the sonar officer on the Massachusetts for a year and a half. He was five-ten, stocky with black hair and solid Greek facial features. Every time the chief cook on the sub fixed baklava for dessert, ten to twelve members of the crew would thank Stephanos, as if he had specifically requested the tasty dish himself. He hadn’t, of course, but it didn’t stop him from nodding and smiling every time he got credit for it.
“Probably a new reactor vessel,” Lieutenant Kent added. “Because of the small size of the Alfas, a liquid metal reactor is the only thing that will fit inside the hull.”
“The report from SOSUS says this sub was supposed to be scrapped,” Silverton added. “It doesn’t make any sense that the Russians would be using it. So odds are somebody bought it and refurbished it.”
“So who are we looking at?” Tiffany asked.
“That’s the big question,” Jacobs replied. “At this point it could be anybody.”
“North Korea, or Iran,” Stephanos suggested. “They would certainly have an interest in probing our west coast.”
“I’m thinking North Korea,” Kent said. “At this point, they have more submarines than we do.”
“We can’t ignore China, either,” Silverton pointed out. “If it’s not Russian – North Korea, China and Iran are the other big players on the board.”
“So is India,” Tiffany added. “But I can’t really see them trying to sneak around our west coast.”
“Me either,” Kent added.
“So North Korea, China, or Iran – is that what we’re thinking?” Silverton asked.
“That seems to be the consensus,” Stephanos added.
“Any one of those three could be a major problem,” Jacobs said. “The remaining question is – are they just gathering information or is this an operational mission, and if it’s operational, what exactly are they doing?”
“Personally,” Silverton said, “I don’t think it’s gathering intelligence information.”
“Why not?” Tiffany asked.
“The primary use for an Alfa is deep water,” Silverton replied. “You can gather more intelligence from the surface than you can from a thousand feet down. The only thing that makes sense to me is this is a covert operational mission.”
There was a momentary pause in the conversation as everyone mulled over the implications. “I’m inclined to go with a covert operational mission,” Stephanos finally said.
“Me too,” Tiffany replied.
“I’ll go with that as well,” Kent added.
“I agree with your analysis,” Jacobs said. “Who is behind the ghost sub and exactly what they are doing is going to have to wait until we find it, so for now, we go hunting.”
CHAPTER 32
The Pentagon, Washington, D.C.
Vice Admiral Billingsly checked on the storm building in the Pacific Ocean as soon as he arrived in his office. It was now officially Tropical Storm Loretta and was moving to the north. China was clearly guiding and building what would certainly become a full-blown hurricane. The prevailing westerly winds would normally push the disturbance toward the coast and the cooler water flowing down from Alaska would ordinarily suck energy out of the system. Neither of those things was happening. China was heating the
atmosphere above the counter-clockwise rotating low pressure area while tightly controlling the dip in the jet stream that wrapped the intensifying depression on three sides. The only direction the weather system could move was directly north. The combination of heat and the left-hand circulation of upper level air guaranteed a very violent and devastating outcome.
The Secretary of Defense had called a general staff meeting for 0800 this morning. Billingsly checked his watch. His update from the NRO would have to wait. He walked through the network of halls inside the Pentagon. Because they were all laid out in the basic five-sided pattern with connecting cross-halls at regular locations, it was easy to lose track of exactly where you were in what amounted to an over-sized maze. After a while, every hall started to look like every other hall. Billingsly’s mind was focused on the storm in the Pacific Ocean. When he went to enter the conference room, he found the door locked. He stepped back and checked the room number. He had taken a wrong turn somewhere. He was in the “C” ring. The conference room was in the “D” ring. He hurried, but still entered the meeting several minutes late. The Secretary of Defense glared at him as Billingsly quietly took a seat.
“Because of these factors, the situation with China has become critical,” the Secretary of Defense continued. “I am thus issuing a stand down order for everything having to do with anything Chinese. You are to give Chinese ships and aircraft a wide berth. This applies to civilian as well as military craft and vessels. If they come into your area, you are to move away from them. Do not approach, do not attempt to contact. Any questions?”
“Yes,” the Secretary of the Navy said. “What about other countries? Russia, for example.”
“What exactly do you have in mind?”
“We have a covert intrusion into our Pacific waters by a Russian-built submarine. Currently, two of our subs are tasked with locating this intruder and determining its purpose and actions. Those two subs are currently operating too deep to receive general communications. Eventually they will come up for a communications check. Do you want those two subs specifically notified of the stand down order?”
The Secretary of Defense thought for a moment. “The order applies to anything Chinese. At this time I don’t see a problem with continuing the hunt for a Russian sub intruding into our waters. Let the orders for those two subs stand as they are.”
“What about covert operations?” Billingsly asked.
“All covert operations that involve China or anything with a Chinese interest are hereby ordered to stand down. You are to immediately abort any covert action currently under way if it involves anything Chinese.”
Billingsly didn’t like it, but he nodded in recognition of the order. This means China gets a free ride to do whatever it wants. This storm is going to get ugly, and then it’s going to get dangerous. Very dangerous. It was looking less and less like he would actually be able to do anything.
CHAPTER 33
Dolphin Beach, Oregon
Willa felt compelled to go over the evacuation plan again and again in her mind. The one weak part of the plan had been the seniors of Dolphin Beach. Elderly people would have trouble getting out of their homes in time and they would have a hard time walking up the hill to Highway 101. Not that she was elderly. At 52 she was still hanging on to middle age; but what about those who were 62, or 72, or into their 80’s or 90’s? Dolphin Beach certainly had its share of older people. How would they fare in an emergency?
Willa began spending her time locating the older people of Dolphin Beach and talking to their younger neighbors, encouraging the younger people to look after the safety of their older neighbors. The effect had been to draw people closer together, which Willa saw as an essential function of community leadership. She had talked extensively about the possibility of the earthquake and tsunami with her friends, all of whom recommended she just stop going over it. They had their evacuation plan done. There wasn’t anything else to do. She needed to let it go.
But she couldn’t. Something in her heart kept bringing her back to the evacuation plan. The video of the destruction of Dolphin beach replayed in her mind every day. She even considered another evacuation practice, but she knew that would only hand the election in November to Frank. It wasn’t his election to win because the people of Dolphin Beach liked her and the local economy was thriving. No, Chief Dolan was right: It was her election to lose. One major screw up and she could become the shortest term mayor in the history of Dolphin Beach.
She knocked on one more door and talked to one more family next door to yet another elderly couple. It was a tedious process, but she felt driven to talk to everyone living next to an elderly person. One more week and she would have talked to everyone.
That evening Willa watched the nightly news and the report of the new storm in the Pacific. Storms that moved up the coast usually weakened as they encountered cooler water in the northern latitudes, but this one was still building. It was now Hurricane Loretta with sustained winds of 80 MPH, and threatened to bring clouds and heavy rain to the area, something that would put a damper on the tourist trade for Dolphin Beach. With every room currently booked, cancellations would give Frank another excuse to attack her job as mayor. You couldn’t control the weather, she knew, but that wouldn’t stop Frank from blaming her for the loss to the Dolphin Beach economy.
Still, there was sunshine and warmth and the tourists were happy. She would just have to wait and see how this storm would affect Dolphin Beach.
CHAPTER 34
U.S.S. Massachusetts, Pacific Ocean, Off the Coast of California
There was a gentle knock on the Captain’s cabin door.
“Enter.”
“It’s been seven hours and still no contact with the ghost sub, Sir,” Silverton said. Jacobs was just buttoning the cuffs on his shirt and was ready to join his crew in the hunt.
“That means our ghost sub turned north instead of south. Bring us to flank speed. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” Jacobs said.
“Aye-aye, Sir. Flank speed it is,” Silverton replied.
Over the centuries nautical tradition had built its own language and way of doing things, where floors were decks, walls were bulkheads, the bow was the front of the ship and the stern was the back. Port was the left side of the ship and starboard was the right side. Speed varied from ship to ship with dead slow being the minimum speed and flank being the fastest the ship could travel. Flank also referred to the side of the ship.
“With our pumpjet propulsor system instead of a prop, we aren’t going to make much noise, and we’re going to be coming up on the ghost sub’s baffles, so tell sonar to be extra alert. I don’t want them to know we’re around,” Jacobs said. Turbulence in the water caused by the propeller, or in this case a pumpjet propulsor, obscured the sounds coming from the back of the submarine referred to as the baffles. The sonar dome was placed at the very front of the sub to isolate it from the propulsion unit noise.
“Absolutely, Sir. I get what you told me on my first day as XO. Submarines are a lot like cats – stealthy, quiet and deadly, but they’re both predator and prey. I won’t lose sight of that.”
“You better not,” Jacobs replied. “The day you think you are only a predator and not prey is the day you die, along with the other 159 other souls on this boat.”
The two entered the control center where Silverton issued the new orders for flank speed. That would bring them up to 38 knots with the hope of catching up with the ghost sub. Submarines on patrol periodically turned to the side and stopped to clear their baffles, allowing the flank, or side-mounted sonar arrays to listen for any sound that would indicate they were being followed. For the time being, the Massachusetts would forego clearing their baffles in an attempt to catch the ghost sub.
“I’ll take it from here,” Jacobs said quietly. “Go get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”
“Aye-aye, Sir,” Silverton replied. “Captain has the con,” he announced as he left the control center and h
eaded for his cabin.
Communications on a Navy vessel follow a particular protocol, since most of the main sections of the vessel share a common communications system. Anyone using the communication system would call out the name of the department or section he or she wanted to contact, first to get their attention, followed by one’s own department, and then the information or order is given. To minimize miscommunications, orders are repeated back to verify what was heard. Con was short for the control center, and the helm controlled the direction, depth and speed of the submarine.
After six hours of running at flank speed Jacobs issued new orders. “Helm, reduce speed to sixteen knots and bring us up to 500 feet.”
“Sixteen knots and 500 feet, aye-aye, Sir,” the helmsman answered. Eight minutes later the helmsman spoke, “At 500 feet, Sir.”
Jacobs put on his headset. “Sonar, con, what have you got?”
“Con, sonar, sounds of heavy weather topside, three commercial freighters, and eighteen fishing boats, no other threats on the screen, Sir.”
“Very well,” Jacobs replied. “Helm take us down to 1500 feet.”
“Fifteen hundred feet, aye-aye, Sir.”
Ocean water cools off at a significant rate, once the sunlight cannot penetrate deeper. Between the lower temperature and the increasing density created by the weight of the water above, the change creates a layer that modifies the sound-carrying characteristics of the ocean. That layer is known as a thermocline. It acts as a blanket to dampen and reflect sonar pulses, or pings as they are called, from surface ships. This makes finding a submarine much more difficult for a ship on the surface. The reverse also holds true. For a sub below the thermocline, it is more difficult to hear surface ships that might be looking it.
Ten minutes later the helmsman announced, “At 1500 feet, Sir.”
“Make your heading 210 degrees and stop to clear baffles,” Jacobs ordered. Clearing baffles was the practice of turning to the right or the left, coming to a complete stop, and using the sensitive side – or flank – mounted hydrophones to listen for anything that may be behind the sub.
