The Honorable Knight

by Patrick John Donahoe

  A beat up wooden desk and straight back chair filled an otherwise empty corner of the compartment. The desk had a notebook and several papers scattered across the top. Next to the desk was a two drawer safe with an open/close security check register taped to the top, and there were several fold-up chairs bungee corded against the wall.

  Cantrell lifted the curtain to the Comms Center and, satisfied he and Jacques were the only ones in the Operations Center, removed the bungee cord from one of the folding chairs, handed the chair to Jacques, and said, “Have a seat. We can talk freely here.” Cantrell then sat in the straight back chair behind the desk. “All of the military operations team members, myself, the Sonar techs, and the Comms team have top secret clearances. The two-men Comms team and myself also have Crypto clearances. The ship’s Military Sealift Command crew is cleared up to secret. Make yourself comfortable. First things first. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure, if you don’t mind.”

  Cantrell turned on a one-cup coffeemaker and after a minute handed Jacques a simmering cup of excellent smelling coffee. The cup had a spill-proof lid.

  Jacques stared at the cup, took a sip, and said, “This is delicious.”

  “I’m trying to cut back, but this coffeemaker is so handy and the coffee so tasty, I’ve been getting caffeine jitters.”

  “Is the lid necessary?”

  “It sure is. My senior chief gets upset if we don’t use covered mugs in the SOC, so don’t spill coffee on any of the electronic equipment.”

  “Understood.”

  “Tell me why you’re here. Your objectives haven’t been thoroughly explained to me. My superiors ordered me to provide you with everything you need. So, I need details.”

  Jacques replied, “I’m going to brief you on an SCI mission and have you sign the acknowledgement and non-disclosure agreement.” Jacques removed his Montblanc pen and a folded agreement from his military style shirt breast pocket and had Cantrell sign the acknowledgement page. “What I’m about to disclose must be treated in the strictest confidence, Need-to-Know, so don’t tell any of your men or crew unless we determine it’s necessary to complete the mission.”

  Cantrell handed back Jacques’ pen and the signed acknowledgement, and nodded his understanding.

  Jacques returned the pen to his shirt pocket, sat up straight, and said, “We need to track an Iranian Kilo which we believe will sail from Cuba to our East Coast and launch a deadly water borne pathogen into the US using a storm to disburse it.”

  Cantrell whistled a long low whistle and said, “I never believed that peace tour crap, but I figured it was way above my pay grade and all our top brass were monitoring their antics. The problem I see with your request is if the target is going to be close to our eastern shore we’ll have difficulty picking it out of the noise clutter and the temperature and current variations of the Gulf Stream.”

  Jacques continued, “I never said this would be easy. We have to wait until we receive a signal from my teammate in Cuba. She’ll let us know when the Kilo has left its pier in Mariel. We’re assuming the Kilo’s departure will coincide with a storm coming up through the Caribbean and moving toward the United States. We’ll position ourselves between Cuba and Andros Island and track the Kilo’s progress until we can place our own submarine on its trail. We’ll need to pass the Kilo’s position, speed, and heading to one of our own submarines in real time by encoding the information into your sonar signals.”

  “I’m impressed, Jacques. You’ve done your homework. This is all doable, but like I said, we may have trouble tracking the Kilo depending on her passage in the Gulf Stream and how much the storm stirs up the sound paths. “So you know, the Valiant can handle up to sea state eight with its catamaran like hull construction, but we can only have the source and receiver in the water up to a sea state four, so the system would have to be deployed prior to the storm getting above sea state four and we would need to keep out of the main path of the storm.

  The source and receive arrays have a long drop into the ocean. Violent seas could break our tow cables and the systems could drop to Davy Jones locker. Also, high sea state causes high levels of ocean noise, making it more difficult for us to find a target. A Kilo is a small quiet target, but if anyone can find and track the Kilo, it’s us.”

  “I’m aware of the challenges, but we have to do this. It’s a case of national security. If the Kilo is successful, it could cause sickness, panic and death to thousands, maybe tens of thousands. Another team member will be on board an attack-submarine ready to take direction from us to capture, or if need be, sink the Kilo. Our attack submarine will be fitted with an acoustic receiver that can receive information from your acoustic source and be vectored into the target.”

  “I haven’t sent any encoded messages via underwater comms on my watch, but I know the system developers experimented with the capability when the system was undergoing sea trials many years ago.”

  “If it could be made to work then, we should be able to make it work now. We’ve made arrangements to install the equipment you need. The bottom line is, we’d like to capture the Kilo with the crew and the pathogens intact, but I don’t know if that’ll be possible. The crew may be suicidal maniacs who can’t be reasoned with. They may have been ordered to scuttle their submarine with all hands if they fail.” Jacques savored another sip of his still hot coffee.

  “I got it . . . This is a lot to take in. Would you like the admiral level tour?”

  “I would.”

  “First, since we’re here, those three consoles,” Cantrell said, pointing to the SOC computer monitors with his coffee cup, “are where the operators interpret the data from the system. They have an active receiver display, a passive receiver display, and a geographical display to draw the tracks of the targets. It’s kind of like an expensive video game. Any one of the three monitors can display any of the various screen images, and the operators work as a team to detect and track the targets, and pass the data to the ASW Officer onboard the command ship.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Good. I like enthusiasm. Let’s have a look at the rest of the system. I’ll give you the combination to the SOC when you come onboard and you can watch the whole operation in real time.” Cantrell led Jacques out of the Operations Center back to the active source compartment and pointed to the aluminum-cased acoustic projectors, and said, “These are the projectors. They’re audio speakers used to project sound into the ocean. Because their output is formed as an array, we can focus the energy. Remember in the movie Star Wars how the energy beams combined and formed one beam to blow up Princess Leia’s home planet Alderaan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s what our projectors and power amplifiers do. They combine the energy and form what we call beams, focusing the signal power from all the projectors in the direction we desire. We lower the projectors into the water column through that moon pool over there.” Cantrell pointed to the hole in the middle of the ship’s hull directly below the end of the rack where the sources were stored.

  “We transmit a variety of signals depending on our goals. One of our signals sounds eerily like whales calling to each other across oceans.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “There’s more. Follow me to the back of the compartment.”

  Jacques followed Cantrell to a large diameter reel and saw it was wrapped with a plastic tube full of fluid, electric wires and electronic parts.

  “This is the receive array. It contains acoustic hydrophones which are like underwater microphones. Because of the way we process the active return signals, or pings, we can tell the target’s direction and distance from us and after a few transmissions determine his speed and course direction, like a typical sonar.”

  “Can you track the target without pinging so that he doesn’t know we’re on to him?”

  “Of course. We can use the receive array passively and listen for his noise signature. Of course you have to understan
d, a diesel-electric submarine is quiet.”

  “What do you mean by his noise signature?”

  “Have you ever owned a Volkswagen bug?”

  “No.”

  “Well, have you ever heard one idle at a stop light?”

  “Sure. They sound like someone’s shaking a jar of nuts and bolts.”

  “The noise is the VW’s sound signature, so if one pulled up into your driveway you would know it was a VW rather than say a Cadillac.”

  “Got it. I definitely want to see your system in operation.”

  “So, are you sailing with us?”

  “I am, but I have to go to Cuba first. We’re going to observe the Kilo and frigate and make sure they’re going to attack. I’ll helo back aboard when and if the chase is on.”

  “You can use the admiral’s berth when you return.”

  “Admiral’s berth?”

  “The one we use for visiting dignitaries. It’s the least grubby . . . and you get your own shower,” Cantrell said with a grin.

  “I’m honored.”

  “I’m glad we’re getting this opportunity to show what we can do. We’ve had ongoing battles with the environmentalists since 1995. They claim we disturb the whales with our active signals, so we’ve been sidelined since. My operators bitched a little when I told them their shore leave had to be canceled, but they’ll perk up when they get engaged in a long overdue real time operation.”

  “You understand the need to be on-station when the Kilo leaves port. It will take her less than 48 hours to intercept a normal storm path from Cuba. If we’re not on-station and ready when she sails, we wouldn’t be able to intercept her transit.”

  “I understand. And if the Kilo doesn’t attack?”

  “No one will complain if we’re ready to intercede, and the peace tour is in fact peaceful. Either way your efforts will be appreciated. And if there is an attack you’ll be able to practice on a Kilo.”

  “My team would enjoy working against a real target, but I hope there’s no attack.”

  “By the way, do you carry any chamomile tea on board?”

  “I think we have one tea drinker on board. I’ll ask senior chief to bring some with him. He’s taken some emergency shore leave and will return this evening before we sail.”

  “Please don’t go out of your way for me. I’ll bring a stash and a covered cup when I return.”

  “Have it your way. By the way, Mr. LeFriant, call me Dave.”

  “Thanks, Dave, and call me Jacques.”

  Early the next morning, the USNS Valiant pulled out of its temporary Virginia Beach home port and sailed for deep water between Andros Island and Cuba.

  After passing through several security checks, Ian was greeted by the security watch on the top deck of the nuclear attack submarine, the USS Montpelier, SSN 765.

  Ian said, “Here are my ID and orders to board,” and handed his military ID and papers to the watch.

  The steely-eyed sailor examined Ian’s paper work and ID and said, “The CO is expecting you, sir. Welcome aboard,” and pointed to the open top deck hatch. As Ian entered the hatch he heard the security watch announce his arrival on a sound powered phone.

  Ian clambered down the ladder and was greeted by the Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Daley. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Ian Dunn.”

  Ian said, “Thank you, sir. I need to speak to only you and the captain.”

  “We were expecting you. Follow me,” the XO said.

  Ian had spent many days onboard nuclear submarines in his capacity as a Navy Seal and was always fascinated by the never ending plumbing, wiring, hatches, and cubbyholes throughout the ship. He had to step up and duck through each hatchway to prevent bumping his head and his shins. At six feet, two inches in height and 230 pounds, just passing through the hatches constituted hazardous duty. The XO led Ian to the captain’s cabin and knocked on the door. The door plaque read, Captain James Duncan, USN.

  “Enter.”

  The XO led the way, and the captain stood in the small space and shook Ian’s hand. “I understand you have a special mission for us, sir.”

  “I’m not a sir, Sir,” Ian replied, “merely a Navy Seal.”

  “There’s no such thing as merely a Navy Seal. You don’t have to be humble with me, Sailor. I have great respect for you guys and am proud to serve with you.”

  “Mr. Ian Dunn wanted to discuss this mission with just the three of us prior to briefing the Ward Room,” added the XO.

  “I understand. Both of you have a seat as best as you can in these cramped quarters and let’s get to it.” Captain Duncan indicated two folding chairs stacked in the corner.

  The XO sat on one of the folding chairs, and Ian took the other. Captain Duncan sat back down on his meager desk chair.

  Ian took a breath and began. “We have reason to believe the supposed World Peace Cruise that the Iranians are conducting is not so peaceful. We have strong Intel suggesting that the Iranian Kilo submarine is planning to surface in the middle of a storm off the East Coast of the US, and use MANPADS to release a deadly water-borne pathogen into the storm.”

  “What are MANPADS?” the XO asked.

  “MANPADS is a shoulder-held rocket launching system. We think the terrorists will stand on the Kilo’s upper deck and fire rockets with pathogen dispersal canisters attached.”

  “What would you have us do?” asked Captain Duncan.

  “You’ll have to surface inside the storm. My team and I will neutralize their efforts to launch their pathogens from the upper deck of your vessel.”

  “Wow!” Captain Duncan exclaimed, “You guys come up with some dicey missions.”

  “Once they try to attack our coast, we’ll have to place them under arrest for terrorism, which will create a huge international incident. If they become too belligerent you may have to sink the Kilo or the frigate, or both, or they may scuttle themselves. I don’t know how much of the crew are involved, how crazy they are, or how far they’re willing to go to attack us. If we fail to stop them, the attack could cause a major pandemic in the US.”

  After a moment’s pause for reflection, Captain Duncan added, “Why not challenge them now and save all this trouble?”

  “They would claim they’re on a peace tour and we’re the aggressors harassing them.”

  “I never believed the peace tour was peaceful.”

  “Neither does anyone else, but we have to try to prevent an international incident. Without irrefutable proof it would be harder than you think. We need for you to be on station for the duration, doing training ops or whatever your current schedule requires, then when our team member in Cuba tells us the Kilo or the Jamaran or both have left the pier, my team and I will helo out to your position and come aboard.

  We’re going to start tracking the Kilo as soon as it leaves Mariel, Cuba using the Navy’s High Power Sonar System which will pass its track data to us via an underwater Comms system using sonar signals. The HPS will transmit the target’s Latitude/Longitude coordinates underwater to the Monty via active signal pulses. Two Navy laboratory engineers will arrive this afternoon and attach an acoustic Comms receiver box to the Monty’s passive sonar in the sonar space. When they have completed the installation they’ll demonstrate how to use the box and provide a ‘crib sheet’ with detailed operating instructions for your sonar operators.”

  Ian paused for comments, but both officers nodded for Ian to continue. “If the Kilo follows the course we anticipate she’ll follow, that is, leaves port in a storm and heads for the US coast, we’ll follow her with the Monty and thwart the attack.”

  “Explain to me, again, exactly how you plan to do that.”

  “We’ll surface e next to the Kilo, within fifty meters, and when they bring the MANPADS onto the top deck my team and I will destroy the MANPADS, the rockets and the dispersal canisters.”

  “On the top deck of the Monty . . . in the middle of a hurricane?” the XO asked, with an incredulous tone in his voice.

>   “In the eye of a hurricane. We’ll shoot them off the Kilo’s deck with an RPG-29 and a Barrett .50-caliber M107 Sniper rifle. I’ll be firing the RPG and my team mates will man the M107, one shot one kill.”

  “How many of you will there be?” Captain Duncan asked.

  “Myself, two other Seals, and our weapons. We may ask for assistance from one of your crew.”

  “I almost completed BUDS training. Will I do?” the XO asked.

  “I’ll talk to you about the details when we return. It will be dangerous.”

  “I’m ready. I always regretted getting injured doing BUDS training and washing out. Helping you could assuage some of my regrets,” replied the XO.

  Ian waited for the rest of the story.

  The XO, sensing Ian’s interest, said, “I broke my wrist on the third day of Hell Week, and before it healed I was accepted into Nuclear Power School.”

  “And what if you fail to stop the attack?” Captain Duncan asked. “Would I have authorization from the highest sources to sink an Iranian submarine off our coast?”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, Sir. That’s why I wanted to start with only you and the XO.”

  “I’m with you, but you, young man, are not ordinary, not that any of you Seals are ordinary, and this mission is beyond extraordinary.”

  “I just do my job, sir,” Ian continued. “Two of my most trusted men will board to assist me with Plan A, which is to only disable the submarine’s ability to launch the pathogens. If Plan A fails and we have to sink the Kilo, you will receive your authorization from the highest authority.”

  “My ship and crew are at your service,” replied Captain Duncan. “I’m ready for the Ward Room. Do you have any other guidance for us?”

  “Yes, sir. Minimize what you tell them, since we’ll have to lock down until we sail if they’re told any details of our mission. For now, you should only tell them we’re going to conduct a blue on blue exercise in cooperation with the High Power Sonar system. And all shore leave is canceled until the mission is complete. During your brief I’ll hang back like a fly on the wall,” Ian said.