The Last Israelis - an Apocalyptic, Military Thriller about an Israeli Submarine and a Nuclear Iran

by Noah Beck

  Chapter 23: An Accident by Enemy Waters

  Ordinarily, a submariner works on his shift for eight hours a day, with 16 hours off for sleeping, eating, hygiene, studying new information or materials relevant to his department, conducting any repairs related to his duties, and relaxing with cards, movies, books, letter-writing or other activities. With a normal amount of work and relaxation, crewmembers typically sleep from five to eight hours in an average 24-hour period. But Boutrous had ended up working about 20 continuous hours. After finishing his shift as navigator, he had to help update the submarine’s maps and fix two different problems that arose at different times in the same 16-hour period when he was supposed to be off-duty: the echo sounder failed to obtain any readings and the GPS wasn’t receiving any signal. In some cases, the solution involved finding and changing a defective circuit board card, and, in other cases, there were software applications that had to be employed to repair and test the systems. Eitan, Boutrous, and the third seaman on the Dolphin’s navigation team worked around the clock to minimize the time that these mission-critical systems were down or performing unreliably. But even the fatigue that followed the extraordinarily long shift compelled by these additional chores was not enough to bring Boutrous any rest when he finally lay down in a bunk.

  Notwithstanding his long and taxing day, for the first time ever, Boutrous had difficulty falling asleep on board. Despite what he had told his mother about how easily and soundly he slept on the submarine thanks to the exhausting work hours, this time his mind was too troubled to sleep. The grievous fate of the Leviathan haunted his thoughts, as he kept imagining what the scenario must have looked like. Because Boutrous had never met anyone from the Leviathan, each time he envisioned the disaster he actually saw himself and the rest of his crew on the sinking ship. Occasionally, he would also imagine Shmuli, the extra short sailor from Eitan’s “Life Vest” story – an anecdote that made Boutrous feel as if he actually knew one of the submariners who was killed. Circumstances conspired to exacerbate his wakefulness: after three hours of tossing and turning in the little borrowed bunk, and just as Boutrous had finally started to feel himself falling asleep, his commanding officer came by.

  “Sorry, to wake you up for your shift so early,” Eitan said in a weak, whispering voice, gently tapping Boutrous and waiting for him to get oriented. “I threw up while navigating. Feeling very sick.” The most junior sailor on the boat rubbed his eyes a bit, looked at his watch, and saw that it was 0400 hours, two hours before his shift was supposed to start. Boutrous got out of the bed so that his officer could crawl into it.

  “What’s wrong, Eitan?” he whispered, so as not to wake the other sleeping submariners nearby.

  “Not sure…I was feeling nauseous the last few hours, and then I just couldn’t hold it in any more…Maybe something I ate…Hoping it’ll pass if I just rest a little more tonight.”

  “OK. Hope you feel better,” Boutrous said. He stood up and drowsily walked over to the navigation post to start his shift two hours early. Zvi was at the helm and Yisrael was acting as the officer of the watch. Daniel was off-duty and asleep after sending the update at 0300 hours concerning the Leviathan and receiving the warning from headquarters about suspicious enemy movements in neighboring countries and Iran.

  Two hours into his shift, Boutrous had started losing whatever second wind he might have received from the jolting change in activity required by the order of a commanding officer. By the time it had been three hours of staring at the back-lit maps, the GPS coordinates, the echo sound display, and the other navigation systems, the relentless force of lassitude was – like a thicker bicep in an arm-wrestle – gradually overpowering whatever strength of will and adrenaline remained in Boutrous. He had worked an unusually long, 20-hour day, then failed to sleep during the three hours that he could have slept. Thus, by the third hour of his new shift, Boutrous hadn’t slept in 26 hours, most of which had been full of demanding work and focused attention.

  Even without weariness, there are a few ways that the navigation department can cause a serious submarine accident. The Dolphin uses electric and mechanical inertial guidance systems that keep track of the ship’s motion from a fixed starting point by using gyroscopes. Those systems are accurate for 150 hours of operation but must be realigned by other surface-dependent navigational systems like GPS, radar, and satellite. Thus, forgetting to realign the guidance systems can cause an accident.

  The most common failure by a submarine’s navigation department is to miscalculate the course in a way that sends the submarine careening into a water obstacle. Such obstacles include wrecks, reefs, oilrigs, and other structures and platforms. The changing information concerning such hazards on and below the water surface is regularly updated in the Notices to Mariners bulletin sent out by British Admiralty. Thus, another potentially deadly mistake that the navigation department can make is simply failing to update the submarine’s maps correctly and completely with the latest commercially available maritime intelligence.

  Even if the inertial guidance systems are properly realigned and all cartographic information is updated to account for the latest water obstacles and other map changes, the navigator must still correctly perceive, understand, and use all of the hydrographic data relevant to the submarine’s course. This important nautical information includes details such as coastline characteristics, water depth, and seabed topography.

  At the time of the accident, the Dolphin was cruising at a depth of 155 meters – five meters above an underwater plateau that ended with a jagged rock formation bulging briefly upwards to a depth of 154 meters before the entire plateau fell precipitously to a depth of 600 meters. The map that Boutrous was looking at correctly indicated that the sharp underwater rock formation jutted up from the plateau surface to a slightly shallower depth of 154 meters. But as his sleep-deprived fatigue mounted, his dreary eyes began to close, causing – in a perceptual parallel – the “5” to close into a “6” on the map he was reading. Thus, Boutrous saw a 164 instead of a 154 when calling out the desired course to the officer on the watch and, by extension, to the helmsman, creating in their minds nine meters of navigable water that was actually impenetrable rock. So, instead of rising by at least two meters to avoid the thrusting rock swell at 154 meters depth, Yisrael incorrectly figured that – at their current depth of 155 meters – they were now nine meters above the floor that Boutrous said had dropped to 164 meters depth, and therefore could safely continue at the same depth. Accordingly, Yisrael instructed Zvi to continue on course and the submarine would ram directly into the rock formation at 155 meters depth.

  The accident happened at 7:15 a.m., about 160 kilometers east of Muscat, Oman. The head-on underwater collision was powerful enough to jar Boutrous awake from his drowsily performed navigation, along with any other crewmembers who at that moment were feeling sleepy or actually asleep in bunks. Upon impact, the interior lighting in the submarine went dark. Seconds later, the emergency alarm began to sound. The sounds of chaos and surprise rang through the submarine as the crew scrambled to hold themselves up during the rocky aftermath that rivaled an earthquake.

  “Argghh!”

  “Shit!”

  “What the – ”

  “Pass me that flashlight!”

  Daniel awoke in the dark and braced himself in his bunk as the submarine swayed and tilted in the water, limping about the rock formation into which it had just crashed. Fighting the powerful gravitational pull in different directions, Daniel cast about his small bed in the dark for the flashlight near where his head normally rested. When the boat finally stabilized, Daniel stepped out of the crew’s quarters with his torch and made his way to the technical control center, stepping over fallen seamen and elbowing his way past others until he reached the navigation area. By then every submariner had his flashlight on, and crisscrossing beams illuminated the deck, the sleeping area, the control center, and anywhere else where there was a sailor. As Daniel looked over various c
ontrols, the entire crew scrambled into action, checking system monitors, meters, electronic devices, readings displayed on computer screens, and major pipes and electrical systems. Over the next fifteen minutes, various sailors gave Daniel their update.

  Samir addressed Daniel from the engine room using the intercom system. “Engine green, Sir.”

  “Rudder, dive planes, and other steering systems are green, Sir,” Michael said.

  “Sonar green, Sir,” Jacob reported.

  “All radio transmitters and receivers are green, Sir. Still checking other systems,” Ambesah called out.

  “GPS and echo sound are green, Sir. Still checking other navigation systems,” Eitan said, his voice weak from continuing stomach pains.

  Through the intercom, Bao gave his status update: “All weapons secured and all weapons systems are green, Sir.”

  Samir came back on the intercom: “Oxygen, CO2, CO, hydrogen and other gas meters are green, Sir. Fuel, oil, and other meters are green as well, Sir.”

  Daniel addressed the entire crew: “There were no reported leaks or fires. I want the entire crew to conduct one last check of all decks and rooms to see if any minor leaks, fires, or other problems were missed.”

  Daniel pointed his flashlight at Yisrael, Zvi, and Boutrous and said, “You guys stay here. I want to know what happened.” Daniel was virtually certain that the helmsman had not been the cause of the accident because Zvi had been at the helm and he never strayed. But Daniel still had to investigate thoroughly and fairly. “Yisrael, did the helmsman stray?” he asked.

  “No, Sir.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Boutrous was on navigation duty and he called out 164 meters when we were at 155 meters, which meant that we were nine meters above any hard surfaces, so we continued on course, Sir.”

  “Boutrous?” Daniel walked over to him with his flashlight pointing at the map.

  “Sir, I was…”

  “Show me,” Daniel said, giving him the flashlight.

  “Sir, when I was following our position, I thought I saw a 164 on the map,” he said, pointing the light on their exact location, where it said “154.”

  “It says 154, Boutrous.”

  “I see that, Sir. I’m sorry. I was just so tired after – ”

  “Tired?” Daniel asked in angry disbelief. “If you’re on duty, then you’re not tired. You’re focused and that’s all you are. Or you could kill all of us. You understand?!”

  “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  Daniel turned on the intercom so that the entire crew could hear him. “Listen team, I know you’re tired. It’s been a long voyage. Ten days of drills and then no break before this mission, which is now on day 25. And there’s been a lot of tough news along the way. I understand all of this. I also think about our sub that sank. And I wanted that two-week shore leave as much as you did. But we have to stay focused, or we could get a permanent leave at the bottom of the sea, like the Leviathan. Understood?”

  There were some scattered “Yes, Sirs” heard around the submarine. Daniel turned off the intercom and came back to the navigation post.

  “Boutrous, go take a break and think about how to ensure this never happens again.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Boutrous responded, leaving the area.

  “Where was Eitan?”

  “He had to finish his shift early after throwing up, Sir,” Yisrael explained. “He looked very sick.”

  Daniel turned towards the third navigator, who was standing nearby. “Boutrous needs a rest and Eitan is sick, so you’ll have to handle navigation for now. Prepare to get us past this rock we hit and back on course, once I give the command. And stay alert, for God’s sake. Get some coffee if you have to.”

  “Yes, Sir.” He stepped over to the navigation post and began looking over the various instruments and getting himself oriented.

  “Zvi, I know this wasn’t your fault, but I want you to take a break anyway.”

  “Ye…Yes, Sir.” Zvi got up from the helm and Michael took his place.

  For each of the Dolphin’s different compartments and rooms, a submariner reported to Daniel via intercom that there were no leaks, fires, or other problems. Within ten minutes, Daniel gave the navigator and Michael the signal to start moving. A few minutes afterwards, the Dolphin, still without interior lights, slowly began to rise from 155 to 150 meters, more than enough to pass over the hump of rock that it had just struck at 154 meters.

  Down in the electricity room on the second floor, Samir diligently tried to eliminate each possible cause of the interior lighting outage until a solution was found. He confirmed that all of the converters were working at the correct output of 115 volts and 50 hertz. Next, he checked that there wasn’t too much current flowing through the converters or the automation system. Finally, when he checked the circuit breakers, he found the source of the problem: three of them were burned out and partially stuck to the base because of the electrical spike that had occurred.

  “Samir, what is the status on the lighting?” Daniel asked over the intercom.

  “Just need to replace the damaged circuit breakers, Sir. But they are melted down, so I have to pry them out with the back of a hammer and then clean the contacts. Should be another ten minutes and then we’ll have lights, Sir.”

  After rising to 150 meters, the Dolphin pushed forward at two knots, before gradually accelerating to five knots. As it advanced on its original course, staying at a depth of 150 meters, the seabed below the boat dropped steeply to a depth of 250 meters, and then to 425 meters. After about ten minutes, the ground below dropped further to 550 meters, at which point the submarine’s interior lighting came back on and the crew turned off their flashlights with a quiet sigh of relief. Five minutes later, the seabed below was 600 meters deep.

  About 30 minutes after the accident, it looked as if the Dolphin was back on track. But Daniel’s gut was still tensely braced for a surprise: He knew all too well that there was no way to probe every single link in the extremely long and complicated chain of pipes and wires comprising the guts of his submarine. “If you checked things that thoroughly, you could stay submerged for a month inspecting everything and you’d soon run out of air or get spotted by an enemy,” he thought to himself. “At some point, you just have to operate the sub on faith and a prayer, and hope that you can solve whatever surprise challenges might emerge after that initial, post-accident check.”

  But it didn’t take long for his uneasy intuition about the accident to be vindicated.

  “Sir, the self-test for the automatic fire extinguishing system in the weapons room now indicates that there’s a problem,” Bao reported over the intercom. “Still investigating, Sir.”

  Moments later, a pipe in the weapons room burst, and the flood alarm nearby began to blare its loud siren. Bao, who happened to be nearest to the emergency, began searching for its cause.

  “Status report for weapons room?” Daniel asked Bao over the intercom. He could see the general situation on a video monitor as Bao scanned the area, trying to diagnose the problem.

  Bao found the source of the leak and gave an update over the general intercom, audible to all: “Sir, a seven-centimeter thick pipe burst. The secondary valve to shut it down is behind some electrical equipment, back by the wall, about two meters from the hull valve. I don’t have any gear on me, and I’m gonna need some help in here.” With the force of the water pressure at 150 meters depth, thousands of liters of water per minute began entering the weapons room through the broken pipe.

  “Shut the hull valve,” Daniel ordered, trying to stop the incoming water as quickly as possible by using the more accessible of the two valve options.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I need three more men in the weapons room,” Daniel said over the intercom. He knew how cramped certain parts of the weapons room could be, and if he ordered more than three submariners into the room, they could start getting in each other’s way.

 
; Feeling responsible for the problem at hand, Boutrous – who was so full of adrenaline at that point that he couldn’t have rested anyway – rushed over to the weapons room wearing anti-electrocution boots and gloves, and carrying an extra pair for Bao. He had actually started preparing to enter the danger zone even before Daniel requested more men in the area, and – on his video monitor – Daniel saw Boutrous entering the flooded weapons room with rubber boots and gloves.

  In keeping with standard flood-fighting procedure, Boutrous closed the door behind him to provide some protection against the possibility of water damage spreading to other parts of the ship. It was during floods that the door’s awkward placement 35 centimeters above the floor was most appreciated.

  Boutrous shut the door to the weapons room and then moved towards Bao, handing him the protective gear. Moments later, the streams of water flying out of the ruptured pipe in the weapons room reached the high-voltage areas of the machines near the hull valve, causing those areas to flare up. The fire alarm sounded.

  It fell to the off-duty crew to respond to such an emergency. Zvi and Jacob were next to each other when the fire alarm went off. Despite Daniel’s conclusion as to who was at fault, Zvi still felt at least partly responsible for the accident because he had been at the helm when the collision occurred. Thus, as soon as Daniel requested more men for the flood problem, Zvi began preparing to enter the weapons room. Now that there was also a fire, he felt that much more impelled to volunteer. “I…I’m going in,” Zvi announced.

  “Not without me,” Jacob replied. They rushed to put on their oxygen tanks, flame-resistant outfits, and rubber boots and gloves. Fully suited-up, they grabbed fire extinguishers and ran to the sealed door leading to the flooded weapons room. Through the video monitor outside the weapons room, Daniel saw Zvi and Jacob arriving in the area with their paraphernalia.