Sea of Shadows (For fans of Tom Clancy and Dale Brown)

by Jeff Edwards

  * * *

  USS Towers (DDG-103):

  The Sonar Supervisor’s voice came over the 29-MC announcing circuit. “All stations—Sonar has multiple active 53 Delta contacts off the starboard quarter, bearing one-five-five. Initial classification: POSS-SUB, confidence level low.”

  Chief McPherson keyed her mike. “Sonar—USWE, what have you got?”

  “USWE—Sonar, I’m tracking five separate contacts. Unless I miss my guess, we’re looking at a cluster of decoys, Chief. Two of my contacts are dead in the water, so they’re probably static countermeasures. The other three are all showing motion. Looks like two are moving slowly, and one is getting the hell out of Dodge.”

  The chief keyed her mike again. “Sonar—USWE. Watch your net discipline. The fast-moving contact is probably our submarine, trying to outrun Firewalker’s torpedo. But I want you to maintain a track on all three of your mobile contacts until we get a clear classification. Your two low-speed contacts are designated Alpha and Bravo. Your high-speed contact is designated Charlie. Tag all three contacts and send them to fire control.”

  “Sonar, aye. Slow-movers are designated Alpha and Bravo. Fast-mover is designated Charlie. All three contacts are tagged. Transmitting them to fire control now.”

  “USWE, aye. Break. UB—USWE. You should be getting contact data on three POSS-SUB contacts in a few seconds, designated Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. We believe Alpha and Bravo are decoys, and Charlie is our submarine, but we don’t have final classification yet. Prep the starboard tubes for an over-the-side torpedo shot and stand by to launch it on zero-notice.”

  Before the Underwater Battery Fire Control Operator had a chance to reply, the Sonar Supervisor’s voice came over the net again. “USWE—Sonar. Firewalker’s torpedo has acquired contact Charlie, the fast-mover. Torpedo is accelerating to attack speed now.”

  The Sonar Supervisor’s next report came over the 29-MC announcing circuit almost immediately. “All stations—Sonar has loud underwater explosion off the starboard quarter, bearing one-six-zero.”

  Chief McPherson keyed her mike. “Sonar—USWE. Are you detecting secondary explosions?”

  The answer was a few seconds in coming. “USWE—Sonar. Negative. We did not detect secondaries. But we have no echoes on contact Charlie.”

  Chief McPherson keyed her mike. “USWE, aye.” She released the mike button. This was the tricky part. When a torpedo killed a submarine, there was usually a string of secondary explosions following the initial detonation of the warhead. Fuel tanks, battery cells, and the submarine’s torpedoes, all going off in explosions of their own. The lack of secondaries wasn’t conclusive proof that the submarine hadn’t been destroyed. It was possible for the submarine’s hull to crack and fill with water without setting off a string of secondary explosions. But it was rare, and—when it did happen—it turned battle damage assessment into a guessing game.

  Had Firewalker’s torpedo killed the sub? Or had it destroyed a decoy? Was their mission complete now? Or was the sub still lurking out there, waiting for a chance to kill them?

  The answer was not long in coming.

  “USWE—Sonar. Contact designated Bravo has increased speed and turned toward the minefield. We’re detecting shaft and blade signatures consistent with a Type 212 series submarine.”

  The chief banged her fist on the CDRT. “Damn! He tricked us again!” She keyed her mike. “Sonar—USWE. Copy all. Your contact Bravo is now re-designated as Gremlin Zero Four. Break. UB—USWE. Contact Bravo is now re-designated as Gremlin Zero Four.”

  “USWE—UB, copy all. Be advised that Gremlin Zero Four is at the very edge of our torpedo engagement envelope. I hold a firm fire control solution. If we’re going to shoot this guy, we need to do it soon.”

  Chief McPherson looked at Gremlin Zero Four’s track history on the CDRT’s display screen. The submarine was heading straight for the minefield.

  “USWE, aye. Break. TAO—USWE. Sonar holds a solid track on Gremlin Zero Four, and UB has a firm fire control solution. Request batteries released.”

  The TAO’s voice came back at once. “USWE—TAO. You have batteries released. Kill contact Gremlin Zero Four.”

  “TAO—USWE, Batteries released, kill contact Gremlin Zero Four, aye. Break. UB—USWE. Kill contact Gremlin Zero Four with over-the-side torpedo.”

  “UB, aye. Going to Standby. Going to Launch. Torpedo away—now, now, NOW!”

  The Sonar Supervisor’s report followed a second later. “USWE—Sonar, we have weapon start-up.”

  A blue friendly-weapon symbol appeared on the CDRT. Chief McPherson watched it begin to move toward the hostile-submarine symbol that represented Gremlin Zero Four. “Go get the bastard,” she whispered.

  The 29-MC speakers thundered to life. “All Stations—Sonar has hydrophone effects off the starboard quarter! Bearing one-five-three. Initial classification: hostile torpedo!”

  “Damn! He’s shooting down our line of bearing!” Chief McPherson said. She keyed her mike. “Crack the whip! Bridge—USWE. We have an inbound hostile torpedo. I say again—crack the whip!”

  “Bridge, aye!”

  With a rising wail, the ship’s gas turbine engines spun up to flank speed.

  The Officer of the Deck’s voice blared over the 1-MC. “All hands stand by for heavy rolls while performing high-speed evasive maneuvers.”

  The deck heeled to starboard as the big destroyer came sharply about for the first high-speed turn demanded by the crack-the-whip torpedo evasion maneuver.

  Chief McPherson latched on to the edge of the CDRT as the deck tilted one way and then the other. On the screen, she could see new POSS-SUB symbols appearing. Gremlin Zero Four was launching another set of decoys.

  * * *

  After nearly five minutes of evasive maneuvering, the Sonar Supervisor’s voice came over Chief McPherson’s headset again. “USWE—Sonar. The hostile torpedo has not acquired. Seems like we dodged the bullet.”

  “USWE, aye,” the chief said into her mike. “Looks like we’re not the only ones.” On the CDRT, it was obvious that Gremlin Zero Four’s tricky little maneuver with the decoys had worked again. The submarine had managed to evade their torpedo.

  She paused to reassess the tactical situation. With half an ear, she heard the Electronics Warfare Operator report six more inbound Vipers, followed a few seconds later by the rumble of launching SM-3s. She keyed her mike. “UB—USWE, do you hold a good track on Gremlin Zero Four?”

  “USWE—UB. That’s affirmative. I’ve got a firm solution on the target, but the submarine is outside our torpedo engagement envelope now. We’re going to have to close the range before we can shoot again.”

  “USWE, aye.”

  Updated tracking data for Gremlin Zero Four was coming through on the CDRT display. Chief McPherson slewed her cursor over to the most recent position symbol for the submarine and began punching keys. “Shit!”

  She punched into the tactical net. “TAO—USWE. Based on current course and speed, I hold Gremlin Zero Four as entering the minefield in less than one minute.”

  Captain Bowie was at her side before she had even released the mike button. “Are we within torpedo range?”

  The chief shook her head. “Negative, sir. We need to get closer. But, as soon as we close within range, he’s going to shoot at us again.”

  “We can’t let that sub get away,” the captain said.

  “I know, sir.”

  “We don’t have much of a choice,” the captain said. “Shift the sonar to Kingfisher mode. We’re going into the minefield.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, that’s not going to work,” Chief McPherson said. “The Kingfisher software is designed to detect mine-sized objects only. It will clip out anything with a cross-section larger than about six feet. We won’t be able to see the submarine, sir.”

  “Then we’ll alternate: two sweeps in Kingfisher mode, and one sweep in Search mode. Your operators will have to look sharp; they’re only going to
see the mines two-thirds of the time, and the target one-third of the time. Understand?”

  Chief McPherson’s eyebrows went up. “I understand, sir.” She pointed to the CDRT display. “The submarine is entering the minefield now.”

  The Tactical Action Officer appeared at the captain’s elbow. “Sir, Silkworm launcher four is out of business. We’re shifting fire to site number five.”

  Captain Bowie nodded. “We need to knock those last two launchers out quickly. We’re headed into the minefield.”

  “Sir?”

  The captain patted the TAO on the shoulder. “Let chief here worry about the mines. You just keep the heat on those missile launchers.”

  “Aye-aye, sir.”

  * * *

  Another report came over the Tactical Action Officer’s headset, snatching his attention away from the submarine and the minefield. “TAO—EW. I have two active J-band radar seekers! And there’s the second flight, two more. Make that four inbound Vipers.”

  “TAO, aye. Break. Air—TAO. Can you confirm incoming Vipers?”

  “Affirmative, sir,” the Air Supervisor said. “SPY confirms, four Vipers inbound!”

  “TAO, aye. Break. EW—TAO. Jam and chaff at will. We won’t be able to maneuver in the minefield, so forget about minimizing our radar cross-section.”

  “TAO—EW. Copy all. Launching chaff.”

  The TAO looked up at the four inbound missile symbols on the tactical display. “TAO, aye.”

  * * *

  Out on the forecastle, the 5-inch gun continued to pound out high-explosive shells.

  * * *

  The Sonar Supervisor’s voice came over the 29-MC speakers. “All Stations—Sonar. Mine off the port bow! Bearing three-one-two. Recommend turn to starboard!”

  Chief McPherson keyed the net. “Bridge—USWE. Emergency Mine! Come right to new course three-four-zero!”

  “Bridge, aye!”

  The ship heeled over in nearly instant response to the order. They had been on the new course less than a minute when the next report came. “All Stations—Sonar, mine off the starboard bow! Bearing zero-one-five. Recommend turn to port!”

  Chief McPherson keyed the net. “Bridge—USWE. Emergency Mine! Come left to new course three-one-five!”

  “Bridge, aye!”

  The ship heeled over to port and began to come about.

  The XO looked at their progress on the Aegis display. “This is turning into a drunkard’s walk.”

  “Yes, sir,” the TAO said. “But it looks like it’s working.”

  * * *

  Chief McPherson watched the CDRT. The ship’s track history was very nearly a blind stagger through the minefield, but they were slowly closing the range to the target. They would be within the torpedo engagement envelope soon, close enough to shoot at the submarine again. But what good would it do them? The sub commander had obviously figured out how to outfox their torpedoes. If they shot another torp at him, he’d just evade it with his tricky little decoy tactic. Not only that, but he was certain to return fire with his own torpedo, and Towers couldn’t exactly evade in the middle of a minefield.

  There had to be a way to trick him, the way he was tricking their torpedoes. Some way to disguise or hide a torpedo until it was too close for the sub to evade. The Germans had been using decoys of nearly every sort imaginable since this whole crazy chase had started. If only she had some decoys of her own …

  In the background, she heard the rumble of another set of missiles launching. They must still be trading punches with the shore-based missile launchers.

  Too bad she couldn’t launch her own missiles. If only the water was deep enough for ASROCs. She could keep the sub distracted with an over-the-side shot, and—while he was busy evading the torpedo—she could drop an ASROC right off his bow. She could …

  She stopped. Wait a minute … Maybe she could do it backward … Keep the sub distracted with ASROCs long enough to sneak up on him with an over-the-side torpedo.

  She felt herself grin as she reached for the mike button. “UB—USWE. How long until the target is within our torpedo engagement envelope?”

  * * *

  U-307:

  “Kapitan!” the Sonar Operator shouted. “I have splash transients and hydrophone effects, bearing two-six-five. Initial classification: hostile torpedo! Estimated range—less than two thousand meters.”

  “Very well,” Gröeler said. “All engines ahead one-third, slow to five knots!” He glanced at the double dotted lines on the tactical display that indicated the zigzagging pattern of the clear lane through the minefield. “Right standard rudder, steady new course one-four-zero!”

  The boat began to come about. “Sir, my rudder is right fifteen degrees! Coming to new course one-four-zero. All engines ahead one-third! Slowing to five knots!”

  Gröeler was about to order the launching of the first pair of decoys, when the Sonar Operator shouted again.

  “Kapitan! All hydrophone effects have ceased. Hostile torpedo has shut down.”

  Gröeler turned to stare at the man. “What?”

  “The torpedo has shut itself down, sir. Its motor started up, ran for maybe fifteen seconds, and shut down.”

  “That doesn’t make any …”

  The Sonar Operator cut him off. “Kapitan! I have new splash transients and hydrophone effects, bearing three-zero-zero. Initial classification: hostile torpedo! Estimated range—less than one thousand meters.”

  Gröeler took three quick steps to the sonar console. The Sonar Operator was correct; the high-speed blade signature of an American Mark-54 torpedo was clearly visible on the screen. He verified the bearing to the new torpedo and decided that his current course was still viable. He turned toward the Officer of the Deck. “Launch two static noisemakers. Then wait thirty seconds and launch two mobile decoys. Set one of the mobile decoys for low speed and the other for high speed.”

  The OOD, who was now familiar with the tactic, had already been reaching for the Countermeasures Control Panel. “Aye-aye, sir. Launching static noisemakers now!”

  A pair of hisses and thumps marked the ejection of two decoys.

  “Kapitan!” the Sonar Operator said. “I have splash transients and hydrophone effects, bearing zero-five-zero. Initial classification: hostile torpedo! Estimated range—two thousand meters.”

  Gröeler looked at the sonar display. The previous torpedo had shut down, just like the first one. Its signature began to fade from the screen. The first torpedo’s signature was also fading but still visible. The third torpedo signal was bright and strong, bearing zero-five-zero, exactly as the Sonar Operator had reported.

  What were the Americans trying to do? He opened his mouth to order a course change, when his Sonar Operator reported yet another torpedo. Where were these torpedoes coming from, and why were they all shutting down so quickly?

  “Kapitan?” It was the Officer of the Deck. “Do you wish me to launch more decoys, sir?”

  “Yes,” Gröeler said. “Launch two …” He stopped himself. “No …”

  “These Americans are crafty,” he said. “They drop their useless ASROCs all around us, to force us to expend our decoys. Then, when we have no decoys left, they will fire their torpedoes. Launch no more decoys until I give the order.”

  * * *

  USS Towers (DDG-103):

  Chief McPherson watched the tactical display on the CDRT. It was working! Gremlin Zero Four had stopped reacting to the ASROC attacks. A distant rumble announced the launch of another ASROC. Hot on its heels came two more rumbles, as a pair of SM-3 missiles climbed into the sky in search of incoming Vipers.

  The chief keyed her mike. “UB—USWE. Kill contact Gremlin Zero Four with over-the-side torpedo.”

  “UB, aye. Going to Standby. Going to Launch. Torpedo away—now, now, NOW!”

  The Sonar Supervisor’s report confirmed the launch almost immediately. “USWE—Sonar. We have weapon start-up.”

  A blue friendly-weapon symbol pop
ped up on the CDRT and began moving toward Gremlin Zero Four’s hostile-submarine symbol. There were several friendly-weapon symbols on the screen. “That’s right,” she whispered. “Keep your eyes on the right hand, and you’ll never even see what the left hand is doing.”

  Another rumble, and another ASROC climbed into the sky.

  * * *

  U-307:

  “Kapitan …” The Sonar Operator’s voice sounded strange. “This one is not shutting down.”

  Gröeler turned toward him. “What?”

  “This torpedo is not shutting down,” the Sonar Operator said.

  Gröeler stepped over to the sonar console. “Which torpedo?”

  The operator pointed at the screen. The display was a nearly unintelligible mishmash of torpedo signatures, all faded to varying degrees. All except one. The torpedo signature at bearing one-seven-eight wasn’t fading at all. It was getting stronger rapidly.

  Gröeler could hear it now, the electric-razor whine of high-speed propellers. The sound quickly growing to a howl.

  Gröeler gripped the Sonar Operator’s shoulder. “Give me an estimated range!”

  “Extremely close aboard! Less than five hundred meters!”

  “Decoys!” Gröeler shouted. No. It was too late for decoys.

  “Belay that order! Counter-battery fire! I want a torpedo in the water NOW! Firing bearing one-seven-eight!”

  The Fire Control Officer acknowledged his order and began to punch buttons with the speed of a touch-typist. “Torpedo away!” he shouted after a few seconds. “Firing bearing one-seven-eight!”

  The water-jet ejection system emitted its characteristic burbling vibration as it propelled the torpedo out of its tube. The sound was almost lost under the shriek of the American torpedo.

  The Fire Control Officer turned toward his kapitan. “Sir! What do we do now?”

  Gröeler stared back at him. “Now? Now, we die …”

  The bulkhead to his left imploded, the metal first fracturing and then vaporizing under the incredible heat of the Mark-54 torpedo’s plasma-jet explosive. Gröeler was blown from his feet and incinerated before his lifeless body hit the deck.