by Joe Weber
One hundred five miles, zero-six-zero, sir.
That's about it. No action yet. We have a two-plane Barrier Combat Air Patrol orbiting seventy miles northeast of the ship.
As you can see, sir, we've been steaming back and forth over the same course the past six hours, Dyestrom concluded.
Okay. Appreciate the tea. What's the deck status? Linnemeyer asked as he drank the last swallow in his cup.
Spotted for immediate CAP launch, sir. The pilots are in the cockpits.The Hummer is airborne, along with two Vikings and a tanker. One Viking is on the subs and the other is patrolling around the battle group.Also, we have a LAMPS antisubmarine helo between us and the subs. We are relieving everyone on station at four-hour intervals, Dyestrom glanced at the twenty-four-hour clock. Another thirty-five minutes before the next launch.
Sounds mighty fine, Pete. See ya' later.' Linnemeyer rinsed his cup and placed it on a wall peg before stepping into the passageway leading to the ship's bridge.
USS TENNESSEE
The Trident U fleet ballistic missile submarine, one of the newest in the inventory, had been fitted with new D5 missiles during a dry-dock period in March 1990.
The advanced nuclear sub was now on patrol with the Seventh Fleet and attached to the battle group led by the carrier USS Constellation.
The skipper of the Tennessee, Capt. Mark Mcconnell, had received orders to return to the battle group. He had been reconnoitering deep in the Sea of Okhotsk and was underway for the Constellation and her escort ships.
Ohio-class boomers normally patrolled the depths of open oceans.
However, the Tennessee had been given a highly classified mission to reconnoiter the capabilities of the latest Soviet antisubmarine warfare (ASW) technology.
The Russians had launched a number of secret Cosmos satellites in 1991.
Each unit contained a blue hue blue-green laser able to penetrate deep below the ocean's surface.
The laser system converted ultraviolet light from an xenon laser source to ultrahigh-intensity, narrow-band blue-green laser light.
Soviet scientists, in less than fourteen months, had launched twenty-nine Cosmos satellites with only one failure. The laser aboard the fourteenth satellite had failed to energize.
The Soviet technological breakthrough had caused great concern in the Pentagon. Had the Russians finally been able to make the oceans transparent? Were our submarines being tracked from home port to destination?
If the answer was yes, our worst fears would be true. The Soviets' latest generation bomber, the Blackjack, carrying nuclear-tipped cruise missiles, would be able to select and destroy every American submarine. The triad of United States land-based nuclear missiles, bombers, and submarines would be irretrievably weakened.
Another question military planners needed to have answered involved Soviet antiballistic missile defenses. Could an American ballistic missile submarine get close to Russian shores in order to shorten the flight time of their missiles? Senior military strategic planners believed the less time in the air, the less chance of interception by Soviet countermeasure systems.
Fourteen nautical miles inside Severo-Kurilsk, off the southern tip of Kamchatka Peninsula, the Tennessee had been intercepted by a Udaloy-class antisubmarine warfare ship carrying two Kamov Ka-27 Helix-A antisub helicopters.
The blue-green laser from Cosmos Kuybyshev had indeed detected the United States submarine in the Sea of Okhotsk.
The American sub had been running at two-thirds speed at a depth of 200 feet, generating a loud acoustical signature, when one of the Russian helos spotted it with a sonobuoy trailing in the water.
To exacerbate matters, two Soviet submarines, one Akula-class and one Sierra-class nuclear attack submarine, were positioned between the Tennessee and the American battle group.
They had been notified by the Russian antisubmarine ship of the exact position of the U.S. nuclear sub.
Skipper, I think we've crapped in our mess kit, Cmdr. Ken Houston, the Tennessee's executive officer, said in a hushed voice.
The sub was in a state of silent running, descending deeper after being detected and pinged by the helo's mother ship.
You're right, Ken, Mcconnell acknowledged, looking at his watch. I should have had the patience to keep us slowed down.
Both officers knew the Russians would be enraged if they suspected, or knew, how far the Tennessee had probed into their territorial waters.
Well, Ken, Mcconnell said in a whisper, was it the laser or a chance encounter?
I don't know, Houston replied, slowly shaking his head.
They were right on top of us.
Yes... Mcconnell said, baffled. Still, it could be a coincidence.
You think they might drop on us? CPO Clay Booker, the senior sonarman, asked Houston.
I don't know. The situation is really strained right now.
We were in their backyard, Houston said, checking the sub's diving rate.
They shot down a 747 full of civilians with no provocation and full knowledge that it was an airliner. Can't be sure of anything when we're dealing with the Russians, Houston concluded, as Mcconnell gave orders to evade the Soviet helicopter.
Right standard rudder, the captain commanded.
Right standard rudder, the officer of the deck repeated to Mcconnell.
All ahead two-thirds. Steady heading one-two-five, Mcconnell barked, as the nuclear sub continued deeper and changed course in order to escape the Russian antisubmarine vessel.
Aye aye, sir.
Booker leaned over to Houston and asked in a whispered voice, Sir, do we have our whale disguise?
We may need it, Houston answered with a slight grin, realizing the Russian was staying on the trail of the Tennessee. Mcconnell would have to use more erratic evasive maneuvers to escape detection.
The encounter with the Soviet antisubmarine warfare forces was becoming a real workout. The Russians apparently wanted to exploit the untidy situation and the Americans needed to get farther out into international waters. They also needed deeper water under the boat in order to escape from the Russians. It was obvious the U.S. missile submarine had been operating in sovereign Russian territorial waters.
Chapter Three.
THE FRUNZE The Russian nuclear-powered guided missile cruiser Frunze, armed with SS-N-19 antiship cruise missiles, was loitering 270 nautical miles east of Komandorskie Island. The Soviet ship was midway between the two American carrier groups operating in the northern Pacific waters.
The Kirov-class missile cruiser, flagship of the Soviet Pacific Ocean Fleet, was the pride of Adm. Yevgeny S. Botschka, the task force commander embarked aboard the 28,000-ton warship.
Admiral Botschka had been in constant communication with the antisubmarine vessel Akhromeyev, the Soviet ship pursuing the USS Tennessee.
Fleet Admiral Vosoghiyan had been very blunt in his orders to Botschka orders apparently issued directly from the defense minister spelling out the necessity to pressure the American forces at every opportunity.
The word had been passed throughout the chain of command that the general secretary was personally directing the operation.
Botschka didn't understand the reason for these unprecedented actions.
His job was compliance and execution, not interpretation of orders.
Botschka felt comfortable with his new mission and believed it was the appropriate time and place to punish the treacherous Americans.
Admiral Botschka had other reasons to perform well. Rumors had been carefully circulated suggesting that Vosoghiyan would ... retire on Soviet Navy Day, the first Sunday after July 22, leaving the Fleet Admiralty open.
Botschka knew he would be the selectee to replace the fleet Admiral if he could confirm the sinking of the intruding American submarine.
Botschka also felt certain a second Hero of the Soviet Union medal would be placed on his uniform.
USS TENNESSEE
Booker concentrated on his sonar panel, waiting
for the Russian ship to ping them again. Another forty minutes and they would be in open waters where the Tennessee could dive deep to avoid detection.
Ping, PING!
There it was. Closer this time.
They've really got us bracketed, sir, Booker said quietly to Captain Mcconnell.
The sub skipper nodded and glanced at his executive officer.
What do you think. Ken? Should we set a straight course for the group?
It's been over an hour and they haven't done anything but tail us.
Houston thought a minute, calculating all the contingencies within logic.
No sense in trying to evade them. We can't go deep enough at this point and we can't outrun the choppers, Houston replied as another ping sounded through the Trident's hull.
True. Might as well come to periscope depth. We need to alert the task force of our position and situation, Mcconnell said as he glanced at his watch. Thirty-five minutes before the water would be deep enough to use the Tennessee's full capability.
We better request air-cover back to the battle group, Mcconnell said as Houston silently nodded in agreement.
Steady course zero-eight-zero, Mcconnell ordered the helmsman.
Steady course zero-eight-zero, the officer of the deck repeated.
All ahead one-third, Mcconnell said quietly.
Periscope depth.
Ahead one-third, coming to periscope depth, the lieutenant repeated as the sailor manning the diving planes eased back on his controls, changing the deck angle of the Tennessee.
' Communications, stand by for a message to Constellation, Mcconnell ordered as he picked up the microphone to transmit his report to the American carrier.
The communications antenna would be the only piece of hardware protruding above the water. It would be difficult to detect if the sub was going slow, reducing the size of the wake created by the antenna.
All ahead slow, Mcconnell ordered, not wanting to leave a visible marker for the Russians to spot.
If the Soviets detected a wake from the antenna, they would know the American sub had sent a message. That might force the Russians into action since the Tennessee was in a vulnerable position. The Soviets apparently wanted to make an issue of the situation, and that meant keeping the American nuclear submarine in a precarious location.
The sub leveled at sixty feet as Mcconnell prepared to send a message to the Constellation.
I sure hope the Connie' is listening, Mcconnell said to his executive officer.
Yeah, Houston answered. We're already overdue.
THE AKHROMEYEV The Udaloy-class antisubmarine ship was pacing the Tennessee at a distance of six kilometers. One of the Akhromeyev's ASW helicopters was orbiting over the intruding sub, trailing a sonobuoy, while a sister helo was being refueled on the Akhromeyev. Both Kamov Ka-27s were stalking the sleek American submarine, landing aboard their ship to refuel at staggered thirty-minute intervals.
The ship's master, Capt. Myroslaw Surovcik, was listening to the crew of Akhromeyev Two as the helicopter circled the Tennessee. Next to his command chair on the port wing of the bridge were a speaker and discreet phone direct to Admiral Botschka aboard the Frunze.
Akhromeyev One was lifting off the aft helo-pad, lowering its nose to gain speed, when Surovcik heard the pilot of the other Kamov radio an urgent report.
Akhromeyev Two, the submarine is slowing, we think surfacing! the pilot said as he swept low over the Tennessee. He could almost see a shadow of the big Trident submarine in the bright midday sunlight.
Comrade Captain, the pilot said to Surovcik, I see a mast or periscope on the surface.
Keep the sub in sight. Stand by, Two, the Russian radio officer directed the Kamov pilot as Surovcik radioed Admiral Botschka.
Comrade Admiral, we believe the American is preparing to surface. A periscope was spotted moments ago, Surovcik reported to the task force commander.
Botschka responded immediately. My orders. Captain, originated in the Kremlin. You must keep the submarine from surfacing until one of our subs is in position to torpedo the Americans. This must happen below the surface. No witnesses.
Any surface action might be detectable by reconnaissance satellite or spy plane. Do you understand? Botschka was adamant.
Yes, Comrade Admiral, replied Surovcik, shaken by the task force commander's intent.
The Akhromeyev captain had not envisioned attacking the American submarine. What would happen to him if he failed to keep the nuclear submarine totally submerged? More importantly, Surovcik thought, what will happen if I inadvertently sink the American? Will the politically inclined admiral back me?
It is possible. Comrade Captain Surovcik, for the Americans to send a message if they surface. The periscope may be an antenna, too. The submarine must be kept entirely under water.
Admiral Botschka paused, Is that clear. Captain?
Yes, very clear. Comrade Admiral, Surovcik replied as he released the microphone transmit button. He looked at his radio officer who had heard the order. The lieutenant's face was ashen, his mouth slightly open, eyes questioning.
Akhromeyev One and Two, this is Captain Surovcik, acknowledge.
Both Russian pilots replied immediately to the demanding voice.
Your orders are to keep the submarine totally submerged.
No mast or periscope. Nothing above the water. Surovcik was absently rubbing his left temple as he stared at the two ASW helicopters circling the American submarine.
Akhromeyev One, understand. The pilot sounded as if he might have a question.
Akhromeyev Two, understand. Comrade Captain. We are cleared to drop depth charges, if any part of the submarine rises from the water?
That is correct. You are to keep the submarine under surveillance until further notice. Use your judgment. The submarine is not to surface or transmit any message. You have your orders, Surovcik ended the conversation and reached for his binoculars, noting that the radio officer was in stunned silence.
Everyone on the bridge had heard Captain Surovcik tell the pilots to use their judgement. He had a way out, an excuse for whatever might happen.
The pilot of Akhromeyev Two armed his number one conventional H-E depth charge pack and rolled into a dive toward the Tennessee, stern to bow, as he lined up with the antenna wake.
He purposely released the charge late, intending to send a message to the captain of the submarine. He had not been ordered to destroy the sub, only keep it below the surface. A failure to carry out orders in a correct manner could end his career, if not his life. Fleet Admiral Vosoghiyan was not a tolerant man.
The depth charge smashed into the water 200 meters in front of the submarine. It was set to detonate at a depth of 150 meters and quickly sank below the Tennessee.
The almost invisible wake of the Trident passed directly through the disturbed water where the depth charge entered the sea.
USS TENNESSEE
HANG ON, Chief Booker yelled across the control room.
The bastards just dropped on us, Booker continued as Mcconnell barked orders and radioed the Constellation.
We're being attacked! Tennessee under attack! Mcconnell repeated and tossed the microphone down.
Left full rudder, all ahead flank, Mcconnell shouted, as the submarine surged forward and rolled slightly to the right.
All down on the planes! The captain reached for his speaker switch.
Rig for depth charges! Rig for depth charges!
The boat came alive as all hands went into action, stowing gear and dogging hatches, involuntarily glancing at the overhead, fear swelling inside.
Right full rudder, make your depth two hundred feet.
Mcconnell paused. Shit...
The captain looked at Houston as the depth charge went off.
KAWOOOMPH!
The Tennessee shuddered violently. Galley pans crashed wildly to the deck in the officers' wardroom.
Sonuvabitch, Houston swore as Mcconnell now ordered a lower dept
h for the submarine.
Take her to three hundred feet. Rudder amidship, Mcconnell ordered as he completed the second 90-degree turn, placing the Tennessee on her original course.
How much water under the keel. Bob? Mcconnell asked the navigator, Lt.
Comdr. Robert Cromwell.
Forty fathoms, sir.
Do you think the Connie heard us. Skipper? Houston asked as the Trident plunged toward the ocean floor.
' We'll know in a few minutes. I can't believe this, Mcconnell said as he watched the depth gauge level at 300 feet. The Tennessee was only 140 feet from the bottom.
Load and arm four fish, Mcconnell quietly ordered the officer of the deck.
If they drop anything else, Mcconnell looked at Houston, we'll take out the goddamned ship. The helos will be as good as finished.
They'll have to run for land or take a bath.
USS CONSTELLATION
The Combat Information Center had heard the radio transmission from the Tennessee. The last few words were garbled and had to be enhanced and repeated several times before the word attack was discernable.
The task force commander aboard Constellation, Rear Adm. Benjamin E.Thompson, had been concerned about the lack of communication with the Tennessee. He now realized why Mcconnell had missed a predetermined check-in. The admiral immediately launched the Combat Air Patrol.
Thompson watched the second F-14 Tomcat accelerate down the forward starboard catapult, rotate sharply, then bank steeply to rendezvous with his leader.
Admiral, your patch to CINCPAC is open, Cmdr. Steve Tyson, Thompson's aide, said as he handed the admiral a handset.
The message was scrambled and transmitted via satellite to Pearl Harbor, where the commander-in-chief of the Pacific Reel was based.
Admiral Jones, Ben Thompson, the task force commander announced.
Ben, this is Joe Lindsey, Vice Adm. Joseph Benton Lindsey replied.
The admiral is in Tripler undergoing gallbladder surgery. The doctors said it couldn't be postponed. I'm acting at the present time.
