by Larry Bond
Satisfied with the explanation, Mirsky grunted again and offered his hand. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate your time.” Pointing over to the flight line, he added, “I have two Ka-27M helicopters on constant combat alert; another four can be airborne within fifteen minutes. The quicker you can relay potential submarine detections, the sooner I can get my helicopters over the alerting module, and we both know how critical that is for a successful prosecution. So, I would lean toward erring on the side of caution, if I were you.”
Recognizing an order when he heard one, Zhabin came to attention and barked, “Yes, sir!”
0330 Local Time
USS Jimmy Carter
* * *
The approach to the launcher had been slow and nerve-wracking. Yes, Carter had penetrated the Russians’ outer defenses, but now they had to creep up on the launcher while carefully keeping an acoustic eye peeled for any new surprises—the last thing they needed was another row of acoustic sensors, or God forbid, mines. There was little conversation among the UUV operators, only speaking when absolutely necessary, as if their silence would help the boat stay covert.
Jerry watched the starboard large-screen display closely. It always presented the current tactical situation, and right now the situation was complicated. They were just six thousand yards from the launcher, hovering close to the ocean floor, waiting as the UUVs closed in from the northwest at three knots, barely five feet off the muddy bottom. Just to the right of the launcher, nine thousand yards away from Carter, were the Russian submarines Belgorod and Losharik. Jerry could taste the tension in the air.
“Conn, Sonar. Sierra one four appears to be hovering near Sierra one five. There is no apparent bearing rate with either contact.”
Weiss’s reply was hushed and terse. “Sonar, Conn, aye.”
Cavanaugh came up beside Jerry and asked quietly, “What are they doing, Commodore?”
Jerry exhaled loudly before he responded. “I think Losharik is getting ready to mate up with Belgorod. The modified Oscar is the mother ship. One of its jobs is to transport the smaller, deep-diving boat to where it needs to go. Personally, I really don’t care what they do as long as they stay put, or better yet, go away all together.”
“Can Belgorod hear us? I mean, we’re awfully close aren’t we?”
Though he spoke carefully, the doctor’s tone betrayed his nervousness. “I doubt it, Dr. Dan,” Jerry answered. “Belgorod would’ve had to store its towed array because it’s been stationary. The SKAT-3 hull array is good, but nowhere near that good. As long as we stay very quiet, she won’t have a clue we’re here. But one thing is certain. If those two boats are leaving, then the Russians are done loading the launchers.”
Jerry took two steps over to the Walter control station and gently put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Status, Ben.”
Ford stiffly shook his head. “Nothing yet, sir. We’re still at least three hundred yards out.”
“Understood.” Stepping away, Jerry looked back up at the tactical display. He’d have to be patient.
A long three minutes later, Frederick quietly cried out, “Contact! Bearing one seven four, range one two zero yards.”
Half jumping, Jerry rushed behind Frederick, who showed the commodore the display. “Tallyho,” he whispered. Dashing back to the command console, Jerry pointed to Lawson and called, “Steven, alter José’s course to close on Walter!”
“Already on it, sir!”
Waving that he’d heard Lawson, Jerry grabbed the intercom mike and called in the detection, “Conn, UCC, Walter has made contact.”
Weiss’s relieved voice acknowledged the report.
Looking over at Cavanaugh, Jerry saw the man dancing around trying to get a good view over Frederick’s shoulder. “Hey Dr. Dan,” he shouted. “We can put that up on the big screen! Get your drawings organized, so we can figure out how many beacons we need to deploy and where!”
* * *
The digital image on the screen couldn’t do justice to the structure’s true size, but to Jerry, the launcher complex was huge. From what he could tell, Cavanaugh had pretty much nailed its construction. Six bulky cylindrical vertical supports sprouted up out of massive blocks. The numerous cross members were hefty I-beams that supported six launch tubes, arranged in two rows of three and canted upward at about twenty degrees or so. Jerry almost burst into laughter watching the explosives expert. Cavanaugh was sloppily tossing rejected drawings into the air as he went through his preplanned scenarios.
“Voilà!” he announced, and brought the desired drawing to Jerry. “See here, Commodore, this is almost a perfect match! We’ll need four torpedoes to turn this engine of destruction into scrap metal!”
Jerry examined the drawing and agreed that it seemed a good match for what they were seeing. Still, there was something odd about the left pair of tubes. “Dr. Dan, don’t the last two tubes on the left look different from the others?” he asked.
Cavanaugh settled down and stared at the screen. “Yes, now that you mention it, those two tubes do look different. Can we get a closer look?”
“You heard the man, Ben,” Jerry directed.
“Aye, sir. Stand by.”
The image grew and shifted upward as Walter moved in on the left hand side of the structure. Once the UUV was in the same plane and looking right at the tubes, it became clear why they were different.
“They’re empty!” declared Cavanaugh. “Those tubes have nothing in them. We can treat this as a four-tube launcher.” He jumped down and started rummaging around the deck to find the appropriate drawing. Jerry, on the other hand, was not nearly as pleased as the doctor. Why would the Russians have stopped before all the tubes were loaded? he thought to himself. It didn’t make a lot of sense. Suddenly, Jerry had a really anxious feeling about the whole thing.
“Dr. Cavanaugh,” Jerry exclaimed. “Do we need fewer torpedoes to deal with four launchers?”
“What? Oh, yes, three should do very nicely, Commodore.”
“Great, wonderful. Please coordinate with Lieutenant Lawson and get the four beacons on José deployed.” Pivoting to face Ford, Jerry shouted, “Ben!”
“Sir?”
“I want you to send Walter to the north, course…” he paused while he changed the display screen to a navigation chart, “course zero three five, low and slow.”
The UUV pilot looked stunned, perplexed. “You want me to send the UUV away from the structure, sir?”
Jerry understood the junior officer’s confusion; the commodore was straying far from the plan they’d been working on for the past several days. “I’ll explain later. Course zero three five, low and slow, and I mean now, mister!”
“Aye, aye, sir,” jumped Ford.
Reaching over, he grabbed the sound-powered phone handset, selected the control room, and spun the handle.
“Captain,” answered Weiss.
“Lou, Commodore Mitchell, we’re positioning four beacons now. Cavanaugh says we can get away with three torpedoes; I’m going with four. I’ve ordered Walter to disengage and head north. I intend to have him scout ahead of us, looking primarily to the north and east. On the way out I’ll put José to our left, looking to the west.”
Weiss was initially quiet, but then inquired, “Is there a problem, Commodore? I was under the impression we were going to use one or both UUVs for battle-damage assessment.”
Jerry took a deep breath, fighting the wild urgency he felt. He needed to sound calm. “Lou, the Russians left two of the tubes empty. The only reason I can think of why they’d do something like that is because they’re rushing, because they believe there is an imminent threat. I have a very bad feeling they may be onto us. With four weapons, we’ll still have some redundancy, but right now we need the UUVs’ passive sensors more than the imaging sonar. I’ll inform you as soon as José is finished deploying the transponder beacons. Then we need to get the hell out of here.”
0445 Local Time
USS Jimmy Carter
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br /> * * *
If Jerry thought the run in was slow, getting out seemed like an eternity. Both UUVs were now deployed on Carter’s flanks. Walter was to the northeast, nearly twenty minutes ahead, José to the northwest. Both UUVs were at six knots, Carter at four, crawling ever so slowly to the gap in the minefield and open water. Jerry had insisted that the UUVs cross the passive barrier first, away from the Toledo gap; he was betting they would be able to sneak across by coasting over the sensor cable. If they were detected, then they would serve as decoys to enable Carter to make good her escape—after she fired the torpedoes.
Glancing over at Cavanaugh, Jerry noticed that the man looked down, despondent actually. “What’s the matter, Dr. Dan?”
“I’m not sure, Commodore. It all seems so anticlimactic. I mean we’ve placed the beacons and now we’re essentially on our way home. Not quite as exciting as I thought it would be.”
Jerry couldn’t help but laugh. “Dr. Dan, we still need to fire the torpedoes. That’ll generate some excitement, I can assure you. Then there is that vexing little problem of weaseling our way past the minefield with a bunch of very pissed-off Russians all around us. I’d be very happy with a boring transit out, but the odds are—”
“Conn, Sonar,” squawked the intercom, interrupting Jerry. “Sharp mechanical transients from Sierra one five. Possible mating collar or docking clamps.”
“Well, that will complicate things,” Jerry grumbled. “If Losharik is docking, then Belgorod may start moving.”
“Commodore, Walter is nearing the Sever line. Estimated range is three hundred yards,” reported Ford.
“Very well. Bring Walter to a depth of fifty feet off the bottom and then secure the propulsion motor. Trade altitude for speed as much as possible to maintain five knots.”
Everyone in UCC seemed to hold their breath for the next four minutes as they watched Walter’s representative icon move across the digital chart. They saw the cable lying on the ocean floor as Walter passed over it, some thirty feet, with no sign of any hydrophones. A few hundred yards further downrange, Jerry ordered Ford to bring Walter back to power and make four knots. They’d have to do the same thing in about twenty minutes with José. But just before they were to execute the second sneak maneuver, Frederick called out, “Passive contact, bearing zero two zero!”
Jerry nearly launched himself out of his seat as he brought up Walter’s passive flank array. There was a weak contact, drawing left rapidly. There could be but one conclusion. Grabbing the handset, he toggled the mike. “Conn, UCC. Walter has gained a passive sonar contact, bearing zero three three from own ship. High left bearing rate. It looks like our friend is back.”
Before Weiss could reply, the intercom squawked again. “Conn, Sonar, Sierra one five bears one seven zero. Contact has gotten underway, slight left bearing drift.” It wasn’t long before the sound-powered phone set growled. Jerry was expecting the call.
“Commodore, we have a serious problem.” Weiss’s voice was stressed, and rightfully so. “If Belgorod keeps coming to the left, we’ll be caught between her and Kazan. My intention is to get a good firing solution and engage Belgorod first, then attack the launch complex.”
Jerry almost shouted his reply, but managed to keep it to a firm, “No, Lou, do not concur. Continue to monitor the situation and prepare to fire the four torpedoes at the launcher. That is our first priority.”
“Sir, we’ll get caught up in a close melee with two Russian subs. We need to take one out first, Commodore!”
“Captain.” Jerry’s voice was even more forceful. “Stay focused on the mission. We haven’t been detected yet and I have a plan in mind to—”
“Commodore! I’m responsible for this boat and I don’t see the logic in ignoring two highly capable threats!” Weiss’s tone was defiant.
That was it. Jerry had had enough. He growled, “I’m coming to control!”
19
KNIFE FIGHT
0510 Local Time
USS Jimmy Carter
Shokal’skogo Strait
* * *
Fighting his rising temper, Jerry almost forgot to tell LT Ford to take over in UCC and maintain contact on the unidentified approaching submarine. The panicky look on all of the operators’ faces helped to remind Jerry that as far as this crew was concerned, he was the next thing to God, and the wraith of a squadron commodore was a terrible thing to behold. As Jerry marched toward the control room, the memories of his own heated debates with his old Squadron 15 commodore, Captain Charles Simonis out in Guam, rushed into his mind. He remembered how he felt when his superior challenged his tactical prowess, and the memory had a calming effect. Jerry decided he wouldn’t relieve Weiss the moment he saw him—he’d at least give the man a chance.
He had no sooner entered the operations compartment, than Jerry saw a lone figure standing in the passageway. It was the executive officer, Joshua Segerson. He looked very unhappy.
“I had a sneaking suspicion I’d run into you, Commander,” Jerry rumbled as he advanced. “I’m in a bit of a hurry, so state your case while we walk.”
Segerson’s surprised expression told Jerry the XO had been expecting a knockdown drag-out fight. Recovering quickly, he said, “Sir, we’re between two hammers and the anvil. If we don’t engage Belgorod first, we’ll be in a three-way cross fire before we can get all our weapons away!”
“Interesting. I don’t see it that way,” Jerry replied sharply. “You and your skipper have a bad case of tactical tunnel vision. You’ve overlooked some clues that should tell you what is actually going on.”
The XO grabbed Jerry’s shoulder, bringing him to a halt. His appearance was a mix of anger and concern. “Commodore! Lou Weiss is a fine submarine officer, and a good captain. He’s proven himself to me, and the crew; I trust his judgment!”
Physically accosting a senior officer like that was unheard of. For a very brief moment, Jerry wanted to slam the man up against the bulkhead, but a fistfight would accomplish nothing. Instead, he took a deep breath, pivoted and faced Segerson. Speaking carefully, he told the XO, “I’m not saying he isn’t a good submariner, or a good captain. What I’m saying is that he’s about to commit a gross tactical error that will adversely affect the ability of this boat to complete its mission.”
Pointing over his right shoulder toward Toledo’s wrecked hull, he exclaimed, “My friend and his crew lie over there, dead, and millions more may join them if we don’t do this right! I’ll give the captain his minute in court, but if I’m not satisfied that he understands what he’s doing wrong, I will relieve him. Do I make myself clear?”
Segerson swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Still apprehensive, but now a little more hopeful, the XO followed Jerry into the control room. As soon as the pair emerged by the plotting tables, Weiss saw them and approached. He had a resigned air about him. “I assume I’m to be relieved, sir,” he said stoically.
Jerry barked, “Enough with the dramatics, Captain! Get your ass over here!” He then turned and took up a spot by the geoplot. Speechless, Weiss stepped down from the periscope stand and stood next to his executive officer. “You, too, COB!” Jerry called over toward the diving officer’s position.
“Yessir!” responded Gibson.
The master chief quickly squeezed by the fire control consoles and positioned himself to Weiss’s right.
“Let me summarize your argument,” Jerry spoke quickly. “If we don’t engage Belgorod first, we may not be able to get all our torpedoes away and escape before being counterattacked by both submarines.”
Weiss nodded. “Yes, sir. If we can get a shot off at Belgorod first, we can at least force her to evade and withdraw. By firing the weapons at slow speed, we’ll be able to delay them from being detected by either Belgorod or the fixed array for a little bit—just long enough for us to get some bearing separation.”
“And where do you plan on placing this attack, since Belgorod is in the tow
ed array’s end-fire beam? We’d have to maneuver at least once to get a reasonable firing solution. That will take time; time we really don’t have with Kazan coming in from the northeast,” countered Jerry.
“It doesn’t have to be a great solution, Commodore, just good enough to make Belgorod run. Her skipper won’t know we don’t have a good solution.”
“But it will still take time, and it all hinges on your assumption that the shot will not be detected quickly. I believe this is an unrealistic assumption, Captain. Either Belgorod, or possibly Kazan, will likely hear the weapon soon after launch. Those boats have the best ASW sensors in the Russian fleet and even a mod seven ADCAP torpedo isn’t that quiet. Either one of the two subs will likely go active and shoot a salvo of weapons down the bearing. Maybe both.
“And once one sub goes active, the other will hear their comrade’s pinging and light off herself, and then we will be caught in a cross fire. This isn’t poker, Lou, it’s chess, and you’re getting pawn hungry. A good submarine commanding officer is aggressive; a great one knows when not to be.”
Weiss’s look was one of discouragement. He’d felt so confident. Jerry smiled faintly; he now had the CO’s attention. “You’ve made two big assumptions here, Lou. First, you assumed that Belgorod would act like any other attack submarine. This is a bad assumption. Belgorod is a Russian navy strategic asset. She and Losharik are your counterparts in the Russian Navy. They’re unique. And don’t forget that Belgorod is also a strategic nuclear asset.
“I’m convinced that Belgorod’s standing orders are to avoid a fight at all costs. She will run as far and as fast as possible from us.
Segerson was shaking his head, trying to follow all of his commodore’s finer points, but one thing just kept bothering him. “I don’t get it, sir, if you believe any torpedo we launch will be detected quickly, then how does attacking the facility first change anything?”
