by Larry Bond
Soon thereafter, Greer and Davidson appeared over by the starboard tube nest. Jerry called and waved for them to come back to the control console, informed them of the impending launch, and then told them to be ready to assume their stations.
Both were curious as to what was going to happen and asked some legitimate questions. Jerry responded that he wasn’t at liberty to discuss it, but that all would be clear soon. This only made the two even more curious, and they peppered him with even more questions. Jerry was about to order the two of them to shut up when he saw a squadron staffer walk into the torpedo room. Motioning for Greer and Davidson to hush, Jerry pointed to the lieutenant commander who was approaching them.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Mitchell. I’m Lieutenant Commander Andy Monroe. Are you ready to launch the Manta?”
Doesn’t waste any time, does he? Jerry thought. Well, I can deal with that. “Yes, sir. We’re ready, any time you want. My team is assembled and I’ve already performed the preflight maintenance check.” Jerry then pointed to the two petty officers and said, “This is TM2 Greer and FT2 Davidson. They will be assisting me during the launch and recovery.”
“Very good,” said Monroe as he shook their hands. “I’ll inform the commodore that we are ready to begin.” Picking up the phone, Monroe called control. While Monroe was busy talking to the commodore, Jerry sent Greer aft to the engine room to monitor the mechanical indications of the launch process and to use the manual overrides if a problem arose. Davidson sat down next to Jerry and would assist him at the control console and be Jerry’s communications link with Greer. Jerry put on his own communications headset, a high-tech version of the bulky sound-powered phone set, and waited for control to come on the line.
“Man Manta launch stations,” squawked the IMC. Soon thereafter, Jerry heard the Chief of the Watch announce on the sound-powered phones, “All stations, control, control on the line.”
“Control, U-bay. U-bay on the line,” responded Jerry.
“U-bay?” asked Monroe with a puzzled look on his face.
“We had to call it something, sir,” said Jerry defensively. “And we couldn’t use Manta control or UUV control; that would be too confusing. So we called it U-bay, you know like e-bay, only it means UUV bay.”
“Yeah, right. Whatever,” said Monroe, who didn’t looked impressed. “How long before the nav system is aligned and ready to go?”
“It’s ready now, sir,” replied Jerry. “The Manta uses a strapdown ring-laser gyro for the inertial navigation system.”
“Very well. Proceed with the launch.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Jerry reached over and picked up a small yellow binder with all the Manta procedures in it. He opened the laminated pages to the launch section. Using a grease pencil, Jerry and Davidson went down the procedure one step and a time and marked off each step as it was accomplished.
“Control, U-bay. Request ship’s speed be reduced to four knots,” said Jerry.
“Request ship’s speed be reduced to four knots. Control aye.”
Knowing that it would take a little while for Memphis to drop to the launch speed, Jerry continued with the checklist.
“Retracting battery umbilical cable,” announced Jerry as he pushed the button on the touch screen. The display paused for a moment and then indicated that the cable had been detached from the Manta and stowed in the docking structure.
“Engine room upper level reports the umbilical has been retracted and stowed,” stated Davidson.
“Very well. Flooding docking skirt and equalizing to sea pressure,” said Jerry as he activated several of the onscreen controls. A few moments later, Davidson reported, “Engine room upper level reports the docking skirt flooded and equalized to sea pressure.”
Jerry acknowledged the report and looked over his shoulder toward Monroe, “Sir, where do you want the Manta to go after launch?”
“Have the Manta assume station five hundred yards off the starboard quarter after launch. However, during the exercise, you’ll pilot the vehicle directly. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. I understand completely,” Jerry replied. Davidson looked at his division officer with a puzzled expression. It was unusual for someone to manually pilot the Manta; its whole design was predicated on operating largely without continuous human guidance. Jerry saw the questioning look on Davidson’s face and motioned for him to stay on the checklist.
“U-bay, control. Ship’s speed is now four knots,” said the Chief of the Watch.
“Very well, control.” Jerry leaned over and looked at the checklist Davidson was holding and saw that there was only one step left. “Control, U-bay. Request permission to launch the Manta.”
“Request permission to launch the Manta. Control aye.” Jerry waited only a few moments before the Chief of the Watch passed on the Captain’s approval, “U-bay, control. Permission granted to launch the Manta.”
“Very well, control.” Jerry detached the docking latches and then pushed the LAUNCH button. The rest of the launching sequence was done automatically by the Manta’s programming.
“Engine room upper level reports the docking latches have detached and the Manta has lifted off the docking skirt,” said Davidson.
Jerry nodded as the telemetry update from the Manta through the acoustic modem was coming in strong. He watched closely as the UUV’s position on the display moved away from Memphis. Everything seemed to be working fine and after a minute, the Manta had assumed its position on Memphis’ starboard quarter. Turning to LCDR Monroe, Jerry reported, “Sir, Manta on station and ready to maneuver.”
“Very well,” replied Monroe. Taking his clipboard, Monroe recorded Memphis’ course and speed on a miniature maneuvering board-plotting sheet. He then drew a couple of lines, pulled out a pocket ruler and measured something. Satisfied with his results, Monroe looked at Jerry and said, “Mr. Mitchell, I want you to send the Manta five thousand yards dead astern of Memphis. I trust the acoustic modem will allow that?”
“Yes, sir, easily. Depending on the acoustic conditions, we could have three times that range.”
“Excellent. Once the Manta reaches that position, turn it around and match Memphis’ course and speed. I’ll give you the next leg at that time.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Jerry as he typed in the new position and the necessary course and speed. The Manta peeled off to the right and headed directly away from Memphis at ten knots. He also noticed that the boat had started to increase speed again and was at six knots. Probably going back to a normal one-third bell, or about seven knots, thought Jerry. Doing some quick math in his head, Jerry figured out about how long it would take for the Manta to reach the end of the first leg. “Commander Monroe, it will take a little less than ten minutes for the Manta to reach the designated location.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mitchell” was all Jerry received in response. The next nine minutes passed by in silence as Jerry watched the navigation screen on the control console display.
“Sir, the Manta is five thousand yards astern on course zero four zero degrees, speed seven knots,” reported Jerry.
“Very well,” responded Monroe. “Mr. Mitchell, the second leg is another five thousand yards perpendicular to the present course. Have the Manta steer course one three zero degrees at ten knots. And while you are at it, how long till the Manta reaches the end of the second leg?”
With perpendicular courses, thought Jerry, only the Manta’s speed mattered. Again, after a little mental gymnastics, he came up with the answer. “Fifteen minutes, sir.”
“Correct. And that’s when we get to the good part.”
“Sir, may I ask what we are supposed to be doing during this drill?” asked an unbearably curious Davidson. “I don’t have a clue as to what is going on.”
“Certainly, Petty Officer Davidson. You and Lieutenant Mitchell here are the faithful crew of my Russian nuclear-powered attack submarine. Mr. Mitchell is my helmsman and you are my sonar shack. Together we are goin
g to make a mock attack on Memphis, using the Manta.”
“Well, this should be quick,” said Davidson sarcastically. “With a TB-29 towed array, Memphis will make short work of us. The Manta ain’t that quiet.”
“Do not lose heart, comrade,” answered Monroe in a dreadful Russian accent. “Saint Nicholas—or is it Saint Andrew? Oh well, whomever it is, he will protect us and Mother Russia from those imperialists.”
“Huh, sir? I don’t get it.”
“Okay, let me be a little more clear. The commodore has already ordered your captain to stow both the TB-16 and TB-29 tails. Because you guys are going into really shallow water on your next run, you won’t be able to use the towed arrays. So the commodore wants to see how the crew performs against a quiet target with hull arrays only.”
“No shit, sir?” exclaimed Davidson, now considerably more interested. “Er, excuse me. You mean we get to hose over the old man, er, I mean the Captain? Kewl!”
“That’s the spirit,” replied Monroe more pleasantly.
Jerry just sat there and contemplated what was about to become his worst nightmare. Without the towed arrays, the Manta at slow speed would be a very difficult target to detect. This meant there was a good chance that LCDR Monroe would be able to take on Captain Hardy and win. The prospect filled Jerry with dread.
“Comrades, if I can have your attention please,” said Monroe as he tapped Jerry’s shoulder, bringing him out of his trancelike state. “The battle plan is as follows: We’ve intentionally sent the Manta down the hull array’s baffles so the sonar girls wouldn’t be able to cheat while we positioned the vehicle for the exercise. So now they only know that the Manta will come at them from abaft the beam. That’s still a lot of territory to keep under observation, which helps to make the exercise more realistic. We’ve also muddied the water a little more by taking a long time before things get interesting. It’s going to be an hour before Memphis’ sonar shack will even get a whiff of the Manta. This should help reduce the ‘alerted operator syndrome,’ since the sonar operators will have had time for the adrenaline to wear off.”
The more Jerry listened, the more he had to admire Monroe’s plan. It was brilliant, devious, and would certainly stress the sonar shack’s operators to no end. Jerry wondered if Monroe would spot the operator’s a few decibels in reduced performance due to increased system self-noise. Hardy would almost certainly be in the shack yelling at the sonar supervisor to find him his target. Jerry watched Davidson as he became more excited as the plan was explained to him. The very idea of beating the Captain at his own game was an incredibly motivating concept for the young torpedoman’s mate.
“Now, after we gain contact,” Monroe continued, “I want you to drive the Manta right across Memphis’ stern and generate a closest point of approach, a CPA. We probably won’t detect her at long range, so this maneuver should allow us to generate a good fire-control solution. I want you to travel about one thousand yards past the CPA and then turn in the direction of the target and match the target’s course and speed based on the solution. Since the target will be ahead of us and will be going in the same general direction, there is almost no chance of a collision with this maneuver. Do you think you can do that?”
Jerry thought for a moment and said, “Let me see if I have this straight, sir. You want me to cross astern of the target like this—” Jerry used his hands to show the relative positions of the Manta and Memphis—”go one thousand yards, then turn toward Memphis and match her course and speed. I then maintain that relative position so that we stay at about a constant range from the target, right?
“Precisely, Mr. Mitchell!” said Monroe enthusiastically. “You now have a fair understanding of Russian submarine target motion analysis tactics.”
“Thank you, sir. But to be honest, I’ve heard about it before. What you’ve described is also a basic fighter maneuver called ‘lag pursuit.’ And I know how to execute that maneuver,” responded Jerry confidently.
“Very good!” replied Monroe. “Ahhh, I see that the Manta is just about at the start position. Let’s have some fun now, shall we?”
Jerry looked at the navigation display and saw that the Manta had less than one hundred yards to go. Jerry punched the manual control button and tested the joystick. The controls seemed to be sluggish. Remember, be light on the stick, Jerry thought to himself. With the Manta that far away, it would take about five seconds for the maneuvering commands to reach the vehicle and another five seconds before he would be able to see any results on his displays. After verifying that everything seemed to be operating normally, Jerry reported. “Sir, the test of the Manta’s manual controls has been completed satisfactorily. Oh, and while I don’t disagree with anything you’ve said about the low probability of a collision, Just to be safe, I’d like to start the Manta off with a one-hundred-foot depth separation.”
“A prudent suggestion, Mr. Mitchell. Very well, make your depth three five zero feet and come left to course zero four zero.”
“Make my depth three five zero feet and come left to course zero four zero, aye, sir.”
As Jerry executed the maneuver, Davidson called up the sonar displays and adjusted the brightness and contrast. The use of color made these displays easier to use than the old green screens that the sonar techs were using. And even though detection was largely automated with the Manta sonar systems, Davidson really wanted to find Memphis before the sonar techs found the Manta.
“Easy there, Petty Officer Davidson,” said Monroe jokingly. “Don’t burn a hole in the flat screen by staring so hard! We’ve got a little ways to go before we even have a chance of picking up Memphis.”
“Yes, sir. Do you think we really have a chance?”
Monroe nodded vigorously and replied, “Absolutely! All right, Mr. Mitchell, it’s time we looked like a Russian SSN. Slow to eight knots.”
Jerry dropped the Manta’s speed by two knots and settled in for the potentially long wait. He snickered to himself as he remembered his submarine tactics instructor’s description of antisubmarine warfare, or ASW, and what it really meant was Awfully Slow Warfare. “You must be patient when you go hunting submarines,” his instructor said. “Impatience can get you killed.” But as the minutes passed, Jerry noticed that Davidson was losing interest in the sonar displays. For almost forty minutes, they refused to provide any indication of Memphis’ presence. Monroe’s delaying tactics were probably having an equally unpleasant effect in the sonar shack two decks up as well.
About an hour and five minutes into the drill, Davidson was startled by something on the display. He leaned forward and stared intently for a few moments and almost shouted, “Mr. Monroe, I think I have a contact!”
“Bearing?” barked Monroe.
“Contact bears zero one zero with a moderate right bearing rate,” answered Davidson quickly.
“Very well. Mr. Mitchell, come left to zero one zero.”
“Come left to zero one zero, aye,” replied Jerry. Moments later, “Sir, steady on course zero one zero.”
Suddenly the IMC blared, “MAN BATTLE STATIONS TORPEDO!” BONG, BONG, BONG. “MAN BATTLE STATIONS TORPEDO!”
“Well, well, I do believe they managed to pick up our scent. Look alive now, lads, for the game is afoot!”
Monroe moved over closer to Davidson and looked at the sonar display. After a few minutes, Monroe said, “Yes indeed, a very nice two to three degree per minute right bearing rate. There is no hint of cavitation on the narrowband display either. I would definitely say we have found our adversary. Mr. Mitchell, come right to,” Monroe paused momentarily as he took one more glance at the primary detection display, “come right to zero four zero.”
“Coming right to zero four zero, aye, sir,” acknowledged Jerry. He could feel his heart rate speeding up as the hunt began.
“Sir! Possible target zig,” reported Davidson.
Monroe nearly fell off his stool as he quickly leaned over to look at the display. “Good call, Davidson. She
’s either turned toward us or increased speed.” After another thirty seconds of watching, Monroe exclaimed, “Look at that bearing rate! It has shot through the roof! And still no cavitation. She’s close, and she had to have turned toward us. Mr. Mitchell, stand by to come hard left on my mark!”
“Yes, sir!” said Jerry. All three men were now totally engrossed in the engagement that was unfolding before them.
Monroe monitored the sonar display carefully and slowly raised his left hand, poised to signal his order. “Contact has just past through CPA, aaaand mark! Hard left rudder! Mr. Mitchell, steady on course three four zero, increase speed to twelve knots, and execute your lag pursuit maneuver!”
“Coming hard left to three four zero, increasing speed to twelve knots, and beginning lag pursuit!” replied Jerry excitedly. Gently pushing the joystick over, Jerry pulled the Manta through a tight turn and crossed behind Memphis. A couple of minutes later, Jerry executed a hard right turn and brought the Manta close to Memphis’ estimated course. According to the target motion analysis algorithm, they had passed Memphis about two thousand yards astern and they were now on her port quarter.
