“Admiral,” Pacino said, “I came to give you this.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper on Squadron Seven letterhead. Donchez put on his reading glasses. The letter was Pacino’s resignation of his officer’s commission.
Donchez said slowly, “Have you seriously thought about this?”
“Yes and no, sir. But it’s where I am now. Later, maybe…”
“What would you do if you leave the Navy?” Donchez pressed.
Pacino shrugged. “The first thing I’m going to do when I get sprung from the hospital… they’re still doing tests to see if I need that damn bone-marrow thing on account of the radiation… is go home and get reacquainted with my wife and son.”
“Mikey, after things shake down at home, you’ve got to do something. Any ideas at all?”
“Well, maybe, if they want me, I’ll go back to Annapolis. There’s an opening in Rickover Hall, I hear, teaching fluid mechanics. I could work some more on boundary-layer polymer injection. At least now I know it works.” He didn’t smile when he said it.
“Sounds interesting… just don’t be a stranger, Mikey.”
“Absolutely not. Admiral. And, sir… thank you for sending me on the OP. I got to go one-on-one with Novskoyy. It didn’t work out the way anybody could predict, but at least our collision with the Kaliningrad kept Novskoyy from getting a chance to send his go-order. Jesus, when I think of that…”
“Right. We were lucky to neutralize that SSN-X-27 cruise missile seconds from detonation. If it wasn’t for you, 119 more of those things might well have been flown at us.”
“I’ll try to remember that, sir,” Pacino said as he saluted and left the office. Neither man needed to mention the pilot who had lost his life defeating that single cruise missile. There’d be no monuments to him. By orders from on high…
OUTSIDE WASHINGTON, D.C.
ANDREWS AIR FORCE BASE
The black sedan screeched to a halt. Inside were four men in suits and overcoats, with mirrored sunglasses and shoulder holsters. Around the car United States Marines gathered, in utilities and carrying M-16s. To the east the Tupolev jet transport landed, jets roaring as the pilot applied reverse thrust, then taxied to the concrete apron, where the black sedan was parked.
A door opened behind the cockpit windows while a stairway ramp was wheeled to the plane, and out of the door stepped four men in heavy overcoats and fedora hats. They walked down the steps two by two. Behind them eight infantrymen followed, each hoisting a Kalishnikov. They walked across the stretch of concrete to the black sedan, their faces blank and unsmiling. Now the four men in the black sedan got out, and one of them opened the right rear door and pulled out a man in handcuffs. The M-16s of the Marines were at the ready, as were the Kalishnikovs.
The man looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties, his hair unkempt, his most striking feature his penetrating eyes, which squinted angrily at the men around him. He was escorted to the Russian delegation, one of whom took charge. Papers were signed, radios in the sedan spoken into, a camera appeared in the hands of one of the men from the sedan and clicked away. The ritual moved on. The Marines and the men from the dark sedan watched as the handcuffed man was guided to the Tupolev transport, hurried up the steps to the jet. Once he was inside, the stairs were pulled away and the door was slammed shut. The transport throttled up, its massive turbines howling, taxied back to the runway on which it had landed. At first the Tupolev barely moved, finally started to pick up speed until, at the far end of the field, it tilted toward the sky, the sound of its engines slowly fading as it climbed into the overcast sky, shrank to a cinder-sized dot and vanished.
Onboard the aircraft Alexi Novskoyy was strapped into a net-type military-transport seat on the centerline of the jet facing the starboard wing. A man in a greatcoat and fur cap walked down the length of the transport toward him, then sat down next to him. Novskoyy looked at him. “Colonel Dretzski, Ivan Ivanovich, you came…”
Dretzski unlocked Novskoyy’s handcuffs.
“When they said I was being turned over to the KGB, I wondered who in the KGB it would be. How did you… how did you stay out of trouble? What exactly happened?”
“One of your boats launched before receiving an order. The Vladivostok. It alerted the Americans. I had to tell Yulenski that the KGB had discovered a conspiracy in the Northern Fleet. Yulenski recalled the submarines, apologized to the Americans and arranged for your return for trial.”
“How convenient for you, Dretzski. And how typical of our President.”
“I’m sorry. Admiral, but—”
Novskoyy waved him away, then: “What became of Vlasenko?”
“He is now a ranking member of Yulenski’s staff.”
Novskoyy’s face tightened, fists clenched.
“What happened under the ice cap?” Dretzski asked. “Did your transmitter fail?”
“We were trailed by an American submarine,” Novskoyy said bitterly. “Smashed us up, disabled the antennae. I went after him but he put me on the bottom… All those years building the Kaliningrad, all that planning… the plan… all for nothing.”
Dretzski shook his head. “Look at this. Admiral,” he said, and handed Novskoyy a copy of that morning’s Washington Post. The banner headline read:
PRESIDENT CABINO TO U.N.: “NO NUKES”
ALL JAVELIN CRUISE MISSILES TO BE DESTROYED IMMEDIATELY SUPERPOWERS TO BE NUKE-FREE
“Do you believe this?”
“We do, sir. You did it. Admiral. Your plan was to get rid of the Javelins, and now they are gone.”
Novskoyy nodded slightly, then read the article below the headline. At the bottom of the page was a small two-column headline: JCS CHIEF’S DEATH AT PENTAGON RULED SUICIDE — REASON STILL A MYSTERY.
Novskoyy looked up.
“Fishhook? You had him sanctioned at the Pentagon. You are better even than I had imagined.”
Dretzski smiled. “No, Admiral, he did it. He had told the U.S. officials your deployment was an exercise. After the Vladivostok’s launch he was in danger of being exposed. He took the better way out…” Dretzski looked closely at Novskoyy, wondering if he had gotten his message. The two were silent, Novskoyy’s eyes were closed and Dretzski began to wonder if he was asleep.
“You know, Ivan Ivanovich,” Novskoyy said, eyes suddenly open and looking straight ahead, “it is a long trip back to Russia for a dead man.”
“A very long trip, sir,” Dretzski said, knowing that the admiral had, indeed, gotten his message.
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
COMSUBLANT HEADQUARTERS
As Donchez watched from his office window, a black staff car pulled up to the parking section behind the stone walk to the Stingray monument. A man in Navy blues got out of the car and limped on crutches to the wall of the monument. The monument was a large black marble slab twelve feet tall and eight feet wide. At the top of the slab was a submarine carved from the solid marble, the hull shape of the Skipjack class. In letters on the marble hull were the words USS STINGRAY SSN-589. The wall went north-south. Almost. The length of the wall pointed to bearing zero one four, the exact bearing to the location of Stingray’s wreck under the polar ice cap. On the wall were inscribed the names of the men lost in the Stingray, Commander Anthony “Patch” Pacino’s name at the top. Surrounding the monument, at the four points of the compass, were Mark 37 torpedoes mounted on marble bases, the torpedoes painted a gleaming black to match the marble.
Donchez watched as Michael Pacino slowly made his way to the marble wall, stopping at the base and looking up at his father’s name. After a while he pulled a small black bundle from his pocket and slowly bent and placed the bundle at the base of the marble slab. He straightened, as much as possible with crutches, and saluted the monument, his arm and fingers straight as a ruler. Finally Pacino dropped the salute and limped slowly back to the staff car, which sped off.
Donchez grabbed up his cap and left his office, then walked out into the cold
February sunshine, around the corner and across the street to the monument. He went by one of the black torpedoes to the face of the wall and stared up at it, looking for a moment at the sleek marble hull in the shape of the Stingray, then down at the base of the monument at the bundle Michael Pacino had left there. He picked up the bundle. It was a black fabric triangle, a folded flag. He unfolded the flag and saw the white form of a grinning skull above the crossbones. A Jolly Roger pirate flag. Pacino’s tribute to his father, and a long-ago conversation with Patch Pacino replayed itself in his mind, about flying the Jolly Roger after a big OP. That was why Mikey had always flown the pirate banner from the Devilfish.
Donchez felt an intense desire to do something to honor both Pacinos. It seemed wrong that Devilfish did not have her own monument. He searched for an idea, and as he made his way back to COMSUBLANT headquarters in the February gloom, the obvious came to him. He walked up to the flagpole and grabbed the halyard of the COMSUBLANT flag, a boring emblem on a dingy blue field. He hauled it down, unlatched the hook and dropped the COMSUBLANT flag to the pavement. He attached the Jolly Roger to the halyard, and slowly hauled the pirate flag to the top of the pole. He stepped back to look at it flying in the sky, then snapped to a smart attention and saluted it. That day, and every day thereafter while Admiral Richard Donchez was Commander Submarines U.S. Atlantic Fleet, the Jolly Roger flag flew from the flagpole high overhead at the entrance to the COMSUBLANT building, the skull and crossbones flapping in the wind beside the Stars and Stripes.
GLOSSARY
ACCELEROMETER An instrument that measures acceleration ing’s.
ACQUISITION A torpedo being convinced that the signals from its sonar gear, active or passive, indicated a confirmed target.
ACR (ANTI–CIRCULAR RUN) A torpedo interlock that prevents the torpedo from acquiring on the firing ship. When the torpedo turns more than 160 degrees from the approach course to the target, the onboard gyro sends a signal to the central processor to shut down the unit. It then sinks.
ACTIVE SONAR The determination of a contact’s bearing and range by pinging a sound pulse into the ocean and listening for the reflection of the ping from the target. The time interval between transmission and reception gives target range using the speed of sound in water. The direction of the return pulse indicates the target bearing. Generally not used by submarines since it gives away the ship’s position. Used by some Russian units for a confirming range check immediately prior to shooting a torpedo.
AFT GROUP The main ballast tanks aft — four are aft of the engineroom, and four surround AMR 2. During an emergency blow, all six of these ballast tanks are blown dry simultaneously.
AKULA One of the newest classes of Russian attack submarines. Similar in appearance to a VICTOR III with the bulbous bow and stem pod on the rudder. Believed to be as quiet as an American Piranha class.
ALFA One of the recent Russian submarine classes. Very small and, until the appearance of the OMEGA class, the fastest nuclear submarine in the world. Also one of the loudest. Manned by a tiny crew of officers, the ship is totally automated. ALFA Unit One apparently suffered a massive reactor accident in the late 70s.
ALPHA RADIATION A positively charged panicle emitted by heavy elements undergoing radioactive decay. Essentially a helium nucleus.
AMINES Chemicals used in C02 scrubber, a bed of amines over which air is blown. Eliminates carbon dioxide, a byproduct of human respiration.
AMP-HOUR A unit of electrical energy that measures the capacity of a battery.
AMP-HOUR METER Digital indicator on the Electric Plant Control Panel that measures the discharge of the ship’s battery in amp-hours.
AMR 1 (AUXILIARY MACHINERY ROOM l) (Piranha class) A mechanical equipment room in operations compartment lower level aft of the torpedo room. Contains the bomb (oxygen generator), forward auxiliary seawater pumps, air compressors, and other ship systems.
AMR 2 (AUXILIARY MACHINERY ROOM l) (Piranha class) A two-deck-high compartment aft of the reactor compartment. Only two decks since it is surrounded by ballast tanks. The upper deck contains electrical switchgear and the reactor control cabinets. The lower deck is home to the main feed pumps, reactor auxiliary systems, and the second bomb.
ANALOG As opposed to digital — an analog instrument has a gage face and a pointer. An analog signal is smooth and continuous, while a digital signal is either on or off.
ANECHOIC COATING A thick foam coating attached to the outside of the hulls of Russian submarines. It absorbs incoming active sonar pulses without reflecting them back while damping out internal noises before they can get outside the ship. Analogous to stealth radar absorptive material on a stealth aircraft. Not used on American submarines since it is bulky and easily torn, and American ships are internally quieter.
ANGLE ON THE BOW The angle between an observer’s line of-sight to a target ship and the target’s heading. A ship coming dead on has an angle on the bow of zero degrees. If the contact is going on a course at a right angle to his bearing from the observer, the angle on the bow is port (or starboard) 90 degrees.
ARRAY A collection of sonar hydrophones or transducers that work together to track a contact.
ASH (ANTI-SELF HOMING) A torpedo interlock that measures the distance from the firing ship. If the torpedo comes back toward the firing ship, at 80 % of the return trip, the ASH interlock will shut down the unit, and it floods and sinks.
ASROC Antisubmarine rocket. A depth charge in the nosecone of a solid rocket fueled missile carried by ASW surface ships. The missile puts the depth charge in the water miles away from the firing ship, allowing the depth charge to be a nuclear warhead.
ASW (1) Antisubmarine warfare. (2) Auxiliary seawater system.
AUTHENTICATOR A packet containing a computer written group of letters and numbers. Packets are under two-man control at all times from production to destruction, and are locked in double safes. No one man has both safe combinations. Used by Russian and American forces to validate or authenticate orders to use nuclear weapons so that a single madman would be unable to launch nuclear weaponry. Destruction is done by first shredding, then burning under two man control.
AUX 2 (Piranha class) A depth control tank (variable ballast tank) beneath the torpedo room.
BEND HYDRAULIC MOTOR (ROTARY PISTON MOTOR) An external engine used in some designs of torpedoes. Hot gases enter from a combustion chamber under high pressure. The gases are expanded in a rotary mechanism of pistons connected to a canted swash plate, convening the thermal energy to mechanical work.
BAFFLES A “cone of silence” astern of most submarines where sonar reception is hindered by engines, turbines, screws, and other mechanical equipment located in the aft end of a submarine.
BALL VALVE A total shutoff valve using a ball inserted in a pipe. The ball has a hole in it to allow flow when aligned with the pipe. When rotated 90 degrees, the flow is stopped by the ball.
BALLAST Weight added to a ship to allow it to submerge, to counter buoyancy. Done by flooding tanks, main ballast tanks or variable ballast tanks.
BALLAST CONTROL PANEL Control panel in the port forward corner of an American submarine’s control room. The console controls the ballast tank vent and blowing system, the hovering system, and the trim system. Also home to the chicken switches, the levers controlling the emergency blow system. Panel is manned by the COW, the Chief of the Watch.
BALLAST TANK Tank that is used solely to hold seawater ballast, weight that allows a ship to sink, or when blown allows a ship to be light enough to surface.
BALLISTIC MISSILE SUBMARINE Nuclear submarine that carries intercontinental ballistic nuclear missiles (SLBM’s— submarine launched ballistic missile). Mission consists entirely of hiding from all other ships and staying in passive radio communication with Washington in the event the President orders a nuclear assault on a foreign country. As opposed to fast attack submarines that do not carry SLBM’s.
BALLISTIC TRAJECTORY Path of an unguided flying object,
in a free-fall path determined by gravity, initial velocity, magnetic, Coreolis, and aerodynamic forces.
BARE STEERAGEWAY Minimum speed to allow the rudder and planes to work. About two knots.
BATTLESHORT A condition in which the nuclear reactor’s safety interlocks are removed. Used only in a severe emergency or in battle, when an accidental reactor shutdown is more dangerous to the ship due to loss of propulsion than the potential risk of a reactor meltdown. Only the captain can order Battleshort.
BATTLESHORT SWITCH Rotary switch on a cabinet in AMR 2 upper level that removes reactor safety interlocks.
BAT-EARS SONAR Slang name for the AN/BQQ-7 sonar suite, including the spherical broadband array, the hull broadband array, and the towed narrowband array. Also known as the “Q7.”
BEAM (1) To the side of the ship. (2) An active sonar cone stretching out into the ocean like the beam of a flashlight. (3) A passive sonar reception cone — noise outside the cone will not be received.
BEARING Direction to a contact, expressed in degrees. A contact to the north is at a bearing of 000. A contact to the east is at 090, etc.
BEARING AMBIGUITY When a target is detected on the towed array, its noise could be coming from one of two directions. The ambiguity must be resolved by turning the ship and seeing which new two directions the tonal seems to be coming from, or correlating a narrowband towed array bearing to a broadband bearing. Broadband bearings are never ambiguous.
BEARING DOT STACK A method of finding a fire-control solution on the Mark I fire-control system. The operator “stacks dots” using a knob. The display is a graph of the difference between actual target bearing and solution generated target bearing versus time. When the dot stack is in a vertical line, the difference between where a target is and where he should be is zero, indicating a firing solution. If a target zigs, the dots diverge off either left or right, indicating the target is no longer where the computer’s solution says he should be.
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