by Noah Beck
“Sir, it’s possibly a submarine, three kilometers away from that position, but it’s moving east from there.”
Daniel considered the worst case scenario: if it was an Iranian Kilo class submarine and it detected them, the enemy ship could travel at its maximum speed of 25 knots and reach striking distance in as little as three minutes. But three minutes could be enough at least to attempt a communication.
“Rise to periscope depth at 24 degrees 20 minutes North, 59 degrees 07 minutes East.”
“Yes, Sir,” replied Michael.
The Dolphin began to rise from its current depth of 100 meters to its periscope depth of 13 meters. But just as their submarine was approaching the target position at a depth of 20 meters, Ambesah called out a warning.
“Sir, I think that submarine spotted us. It reversed its course and is now traveling towards us at five times its earlier speed. Propeller signature is Kilo class, probably Iranian, Sir.”
“Change course to due west and dive to 150 meters. Gradually increase speed to 20 knots.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Even though the propeller wasn’t definitively identified as Iranian, Daniel had no doubt about the provenance of the submarine, given its behavior. Trying to rise to periscope depth now would be far too risky and the new priority had just become evading an enemy submarine on the offensive. But to avoid losing too much time in reaching the Dolphin’s operational objective, the captain would try to maintain a course moving west or north towards the Strait of Hormuz when undertaking any evasive maneuvers.
“Depth of 150 meters, Sir.”
“Release bathythermograph.”
“Yes, Sir,” Eitan replied. With the press of a button, he launched a special buoy that descended about 60 meters below the submarine to see if there was a water layer of a different temperature or salinity. If so, such a thermocline could enable the Dolphin effectively to disappear from the Kilo’s tracking instruments because of the dissimilar water layer’s distorting effects on sonar. A few minutes later, Eitan analyzed the reading and gave Daniel the good news.
“Thermocline detected, Sir.”
Daniel turned on the public announcer only in those areas with loud systems that needed to be turned off by the crew: “We have an Iranian submarine pursuing us. Rig for silent running until further notice.” There was no point in broadcasting his warning in the crew’s quarters at that early hour. Doing so would disturb their much-needed rest and possibly cause them to make noise that they otherwise wouldn’t have made, had they just continued sleeping.
The captain wanted to keep the thermocline escape as an additional defensive measure if silent running mode was not enough to shake off the Kilo’s chase. Now it would just be a waiting game to see if their initial evasive maneuver had worked.
“Slow speed to five knots.” Daniel was careful to move at maximum speed sparingly and only when it might be necessary to flee an enemy. He wanted to conserve the submarine’s air-hungry battery, to avoid having to rise to periscope depth for more air before it was safe to do so.
“Yes, Sir,” Michael whispered.
Daniel stepped over to Ambesah’s sonar monitors so that they could whisper to each other about what they saw while the submarine continued on its westerly course at a depth of 150 meters. They seemed to have successfully fled the Kilo. After about 30 minutes with no sign of the enemy submarine, Ambesah gave Daniel an expectant look, as if to ask if they were in the clear yet. Daniel shook his head. His gut told him that the Kilo’s pursuit wasn’t over yet. And about ten minutes later, the Iranian stealth boat again showed up on the sonar screen at a distance of three kilometers.
“Dive to 240 meters.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The crew that was awake would now have to wait in suspense again to see if the hunter had lost its prey in the fog of a thermocline. Daniel’s instincts told him that this would not be an easy escape. This Kilo was very determined tonight – which seemed to corroborate his concerns about the bigger picture and reignite his apprehensive eagerness for an update from headquarters. Once again, however, he would have to master his emotions because one false move in this situation could mean not only that he never gets the update or completes the mission, but also that he and his crew never leave the Gulf of Oman.
Still silent running and now cruising at a depth of 240 meters, Daniel and Ambesah would intently watch the sonar monitor for the next 90 minutes, to see if the Kilo appeared again. The crafty enemy submarine seemed to have a hide-and-wait strategy that would try to exploit the first moment that the Dolphin – due to fatigue or inattention – miscalculated or dropped her guard. By staying just off the edge of its prey’s radar, it could move in for an attack as soon as it suspected that the target had forgotten that there was still a hunt underway. Daniel was so certain that this was his adversary’s strategy that – despite how impatient he was to get an update – he would make his counterpart on the Kilo continue in the game for another 90 minutes, just to be safe. There was also something psychologically satisfying about proving to the hunter that his prey knew exactly what he was up to and could be equally patient and circumspect in the contest.
After three hours of silent running, cruising at five knots in a water layer that should have obscured the Dolphin’s path from the submarine stalking it, Daniel was about to conclude that it was safe to try to rise to periscope depth. But his intuition told him first to test that theory because hiding in a thermocline wasn’t guaranteed to work: its success depended on a variety of complex conditions, including the equipment and actions of the other submarine. The test wouldn’t take much time and could provide some valuable tactical intelligence against a particularly resolute adversary.
“Slow to four knots.”
“Yes, Sir.”
By slowing down just slightly after three hours of maintaining the same speed, the Kilo’s captain might not notice the minor change in velocity, and his resulting failure to slow down at the same time would soon put his vessel on the edge of the Dolphin’s radar, which is exactly what happened.
“He’s not going to stop waiting us out, Sir,” Ambesah whispered.
“He sees that we’re moving closer into his waters, which will only help him,”
the captain explained. “Especially because he knows that we’ll eventually have to rise for air.”
“So why don’t we change to a southerly or westerly course, Sir?” Eitan asked.
“Because we have to balance our escape needs with our mission needs,” Daniel replied, sensing trepidation in Eitan’s voice. “We will find our escape opportunity soon enough.” He wanted to test his adversary’s thinking a bit more. If the Dolphin suddenly tripled its speed, would the Kilo follow suit to maintain its strategy of silent patience? Or would it go even faster to try to move in for a surprise kill, fearing that its prey might otherwise get away?
“Accelerate to fifteen knots.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The Iranian hunter increased its chase speed to 25 knots.
“Sir, at their new speed they’ll be within firing distance in about two minutes,” Ambesah noted with concern.
Daniel spoke into the intercom: “Secure from silent running. Prepare to fire decoys.”
“Yes, Sir,” replied the submariners manning the combat control system.
“Shall I increase speed to maximum, Sir?” Michael asked.
“No. We’ll do that just before the torpedo hits our decoy.” Daniel knew that if the Iranian submarine saw them fleeing too soon before its torpedo hit something, the enemy vessel would assume that what it hit was a decoy and not the fleeing submarine. But if Daniel timed their escape to occur just before the torpedo’s impact with the Dolphin’s decoy, the Kilo’s captain was more likely to conclude that he had hit the Dolphin. And then, when the hunter’s sonar systems were most disoriented due to the shockwaves sent out by the decoy and its subsequent impact with the torpedo, full-speed acceleration by the prey was most likely to succeed.
Ambesah, Daniel, and the weapons team closely watched the sonar monitor screen as the Iranian submarine gradually moved closer. Suddenly a flashing red blip, representing the Kilo’s fired torpedo, was moving towards the Dolphin’s position.
“Acquire torpedo’s position and track.”
“Acquired and tracked, Sir.”
“Fire decoy.”
“Decoy fired, Sir.”
Daniel watched the green dot moving from their position towards the flashing red blip.
“Increase to maximum speed, then gradually change to a northerly course.”
“Yes, Sir,” Michael replied.
Daniel and Ambesah watched the sonar monitor as the green dot collided with the flashing red blip, and then both marks disappeared. The Kilo that had been chasing them soon slid back off their radar.
Daniel looked at his watch. It was 0500 hours, about 26 hours since his ship was last able to ventilate and receive fresh air through its snort at periscope depth. They might need to start removing the carbon dioxide that had accumulated in the submarine through an artificial chemical process. Daniel looked for the atmospheric monitor readings on one of the 18 screens comprising the information and control center. He addressed the engineering department: “CO2 meters are running a little high.”
“Shall we activate soda lime, Sir?”
“Yes.”
“Soda lime activated, Sir.”
There was still enough oxygen and most of the crew was sleeping at that time anyway, so there was no need to conserve oxygen by ordering more seamen into a low-activity state in their bunks. Barring some unforeseen incident, they would rise to periscope depth in the coming hours, Daniel thought to himself. He returned his attention to the sonar screen.
Their quiet adversary had disappeared from their midst, and the Dolphin had managed to stay on course the entire time. But Daniel had by now developed a robust paranoia about this chase. Over the next hour and a half, he would change depth several more times. Each time he did so, the captain would gradually reduce the Dolphin’s speed, to see if the Kilo reemerged.
Chapter 28: Back from the Dead
Zvi was lying down in a bunk immediately below Jacob, as they each rested from their firefighting ordeal. Both of them eventually drifted into a dream state. The horrendous experience waiting for Zvi was the very nightmare that he had managed to banish from his mind only after years of psychotherapy. The macabre vision about the darkest day in his life – October 4, 2003 – was back to haunt him, as if it had risen from the dead, like the people in it.
Zvi is an 11-year old boy, watching his father and older sister talking with each other while seated at Maxim’s, a Haifa restaurant of joint Jewish-Arab ownership and popular among both communities. Zvi’s mother is running a few minutes late but is supposed to join the two of them for a small, celebratory lunch before their daughter’s wedding the next day.
It is just after 2 p.m. and the restaurant is packed with dozens of diners when a suicide bomber from the West Bank, a 27-year old female apprentice lawyer, shoulders her way into the restaurant. She detonates herself using a bomb that is packed with ball bearings and shrapnel to ensure the maximum number of deaths. Because Zvi’s mother is running a bit late, when she arrives at the restaurant she is still far enough from the blast for her life to be savable.
The horrific aftermath of the explosion leaves some of the dead still sitting upright at their tables, while others, including children and babies, are slammed against the walls. Due to the force of the blast, all that remains of the bomber is her head. The intensity of the blast leaves dozens killed, including Jews and Arabs, two entire families, and four children. Scores of people are also wounded.
Zvi sees headless people trying to eat their meals, limbless waiters walking around like zombies, with blood splashed all over the tables. Then he sees his bloody, lifeless father and sister at a table, talking about their burials.
“We’ll have a perfect spot in the shade,” his father said, “so that the rest of the family doesn’t get hot when they come to put flowers on our tombs.”
“Dad, can I take Ephraim with me?” she asks, referring to the man she was supposed to marry the next day.
“No, honey, he can’t come with us because he didn’t join us for lunch today,” he explains. “Oh, here’s the ambulance. They’ve come to try to save us before taking us to our graves. You’ll see, we have a perfect spot in the shade.”
An ambulance arrives and the staff rushes to evacuate Zvi’s father, mother, and older sister to the hospital. Zvi is riding in the ambulance looking at them, as they helplessly writhe in their own blood, moaning, while the emergency medical team in the ambulance desperately tries to keep them alive. They finally arrive at Rambam Hospital and are taken to the emergency room, where his father’s protégée and friend, Jacob’s father, has the horrible task of trying to save the lives of Zvi’s parents and older sister.
Zvi watches as Jacob’s father and the rest of the emergency medical team urgently try to save the chief of their department and his daughter, but they are virtually dead on arrival. Too much blood has been lost. In the end, nothing can save them, and the best that the medical team can do is to save Zvi’s mother. The bomb blast leaves her sightless and paralyzed from the waist down.
The nightmare then moves to the news reports following the attack. Zvi sees the journalist on Israeli television reporting on the aftermath of the event: “An army investigation revealed that the bomber had passed the IDF’s security checkpoints by hiding in a Palestinian ambulance. The bomber’s father has declined all condolences, saying that he is proud of his daughter’s final act, and will accept only congratulations for what she has done.”
In Zvi’s dream, his memory of the news broadcast then morphs into a chilling omen. The reporter’s camera suddenly zooms in on the face of the father of the suicide bomber. He releases a heinous smile and says, “Our work is not finished, Zvi. I have many more sons and daughters for the job. And you are next!”
Zvi began hyperventilating and his torso shot up until his head banged up against the bunk above. The forceful bump woke up both Zvi and his best friend above him. Jacob extended his head over the edge of his bunk to see what happened.
“Are you OK, Zvi?” he whispered. Jacob could hear that Zvi was breathing heavily. He climbed down from his bed and stood next to Zvi, holding him. “It’s OK, Zvi. It’s OK,” he whispered. “I’m right here…Come on, let’s go where we can talk.”
Jacob led Zvi down to the battery room for another private chat. “What’s going on?” he asked, his face full of concern.
“It…It…It’s back.”
“The nightmare?”
“Y…Yes…I…I’m afraid, Jacob…I…I’ve been hearing voices…”
“What do you mean? Which voices?”
“V…Voices of the dead…Mm…My dad…Mm…My sister…”
“You mean in your dream?”
“N…No…During the last few days, b…but especially aa…after the ff…fire.”
“It’s OK, Zvi, calm down. I’m here. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What do you think is going on? Why do you think this is happening?”
“Mm…Maybe because I…I almost killed everyone with…with that collision.”
“That’s crazy, Zvi. What are you saying? You helped to save everyone from that accident. You were a hero. You were fighting that fire with me. We have the injuries to prove it.”
“B…But I was driving…I crashed the sub into that – ”
“No, Zvi. No you didn’t. Your steering was fine. Boutrous made that mistake, remember? He was navigating. He gave you and Yisrael the wrong depth coordinates. That’s why you crashed.”
“Y…Yes, it was Boutrous. He…He caused the crash…Boutrous is an Arab...An…An Ar…Arab almost killed all of us.”
“No, Zvi, you can’t think of it like that. Boutrous is a good Arab. He’s one of us, Zvi. He’s totally loyal to the State of Israel and
an important member of our crew. Please tell me that you understand this, Zvi. It’s really important. Tell me.”
“Y…Yes…Yes, Boutrous is one of us…He…He’s a good Arab…”
“And it was totally an accident. Human error from pure fatigue. Boutrous hadn’t slept enough the night before. You remember that, right Zvi? It’s a critical detail. You have to understand that he didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Y…Yes. It was an accident…Boutrous didn’t mean to do it.”
“And he was also the first volunteer to enter the weapons room and help Bao fight the flood there. He was a hero too. Do you remember that?”
“Y…Yes…I’m sorry,” Zvi said beginning to cry. “The pray...prayers aren’t helping me…I can’t, I can’t pray when I’m losing it, J…Jacob…I…I’m losing it.”
“No you’re not, Zvi. You’re not. I’m here for you,” Jacob said, embracing Zvi, who was sobbing on his shoulder. “You’re gonna be just fine. You’ve just been through a lot lately.”
“P…Please don’t…Don’t mention this to anyone.”
“Of course, I won’t.”
PART III: Doomsday
And I have come to enable you to understand what will happen to your people at the end of the days, for there is yet a vision for those days.
— Daniel 10:14
Chapter 29: An Order to Attack
Finally, at 0630 hours, after reaching a position of 24.41"N, 58.64"E, Daniel concluded that the enemy submarine was no longer on their tail. He could easily have continued being cautious but such decisions involved weighing complex and often competing considerations. If they waited much longer to rise, Daniel reasoned, they would again be confronted with the heavy daytime traffic in the Gulf of Oman. In addition to obtaining an update from headquarters, they now needed to refill the vessel’s air supply. So at 0645 hours on its 26th day at sea, the Dolphin rose to periscope depth, behind an oilrig platform. The submarine’s snort looked like a small, dark blue pipe protruding from the sea, but it was large enough to be spotted by the naked eye from a distance of about 300 meters or, with the assistance of binoculars, from a few kilometers. Thus, in an area with so many commercial and military surface ships, it was best to find an oilrig, fishing boat, or other large structure to hide behind when rising so close to the surface in enemy waters.
