by Stephen Makk
“That’s it, she’s joined the escort now for her return in triumph. Bastards. And what am I doing here, in command of a boat that could send half the North Korean Navy to the bottom? I’m sitting here with my dick in my hand.” He shook his head. “Fucking politicians, my daughter’s Barbie doll has more balls.” Pedro slapped the Conn’s rails. “Flood forward one and two. Open and trim vents fore and aft. Make for depth. Down bubble twenty, make your depth seventy. Shadow the task group, XO. But stay a couple of miles back, we can’t upset them.” He unclipped the microphone. “All hands, All hands. We’ve shadowed the North Korean boat into the Sea of Japan where she’s met her escort. I could sink her if allowed, but I’m not. It’s a farce. The good news is that we’ll be tying up at the quayside in Kansas City later. The drinks will be on the COB. Captain out.” Captain Gomez shook his head again and threw his hands in the air as he walked aft to his cabin.
FIFTEEN HOURS LATER, Seopung surfaced off Sinpo and made her way to her pier at the base on Mayang-Do Island.
Less than two hours later, a helicopter touched down close to the harbour front. Four commandoes got out and secured the area, he then emerged, the Chairman of the Worker’s Party of Korea. Kim Jong-un himself had arrived, to hand out medals to the crew.
PYONGYANG’S KCTV NEWS broadcast began. Ri Chun-hee wore her distinctive bright pink Choson-ots.
“Today, in this year of glory, we have cast down our foe in terror. Our Hero submarine Seopung has launched a ballistic missile from just off the enemy coast. It came down on target in the central Pacific. With this weapon, we can deal out our vengeance to the foe.
Never will we kneel to the evil dogs. As long as we have our very capable Korean People's Army and the leadership of Marshall Kim Jong-Un, we don't have any enemy we cannot conquer.”
THE DEMOCRATIC PEOPLE’S Republic of Korea had the upper hand, and that didn’t go down well at all in Washington. They’d played their card and now that card was under the Sea of Japan, approaching the North Korean coast.
Chapter 3
USS STONEWALL JACKSON. Sea of Japan. Twenty five miles off Sinpo. North Korea.
“RIG TRIM TO ASCEND fore and aft. Planesman come to periscope depth. All stop, Chief Engineer rig for snorkel charging.”
“Aye, Sir. Now at periscope depth.”
“Sir, the engine is running, charging underway,” said the Engineering Officer.
“XO, Kaminski, war committee,” said Nathan, “Weaps, you have the conn.” The three of them walked aft to the wardroom.
Nathan sat, leaned forward and looked into their eyes.
“OK. We’re about to scout out the submarine’s lair. I’m going to top off the batteries here first. Let’s have a tactical discussion. First, what do we know about Sinpo?” Nikki sat up and patted her Tablet.
“The Republic of Korea Navy has done some very detailed underwater surveys of the area, of course, they’ve shared those with us. We’ve got them in the Dummies guide.”
“Right, how do we get in?”
The dummies guide to PACRIMFLT was the nickname for the guide to Pacific Rim Fleets. Its real name was more numeric than text.
“I took a look, either east or west channels look possible, but they could have rigged up more extensive submarine nets.”
“I looked at it too. It seems the normal channel in there is from the west, not sure about the east,” said Larry.
“Ok,” said Nathan, “let’s say we get in. They can have nets strung up, shielding the Seopung. So torpedoes may do some damage, depending on where the nets are. We can’t launch a harpoon, not enough room. But they may be so confident that it’s wide open, allowing us to get a Mk 48 CBASS up her ass.”
“Then we have to get out.” Larry scowled.
“What do we think the chances are of getting a fish into her if we get in there?” asked Nikki.
Larry stroked his moustache as he thought. “I’d say a one third chance.”
Nathan nodded. “I’d say that’s about right.”
“Then we have to get her out,” said Nikki, “our best bet is the way that I suggested before.”
“Jeez Nikki, I’m the CO. Why don’t you just get a knife from the galley and cut my nuts off?”
“Well, come up with a better way Nathan. Because that’s what we’ll have to do.”
HE KNEW SHE MAY ULTIMATELY be right, it was a tough one, but they had a 30 percent chance.
“First, let’s try the east channel, we migh...”
The intercom sounded. “Commander to the control room, we have a contact.” All three rushed back to the control room.
“We’re detecting a submarine contact, range about four miles. Depth, one to one fifty feet.”
“Engineering, rig for snorkel down.”
Within a minute Engineering replied. “Snorkel retracting engine shutdown.”
“Flood one. Open and trim vents fore and aft. Make for depth. Down bubble twenty five, make your depth one sixty. Speed six knots. Bearing two sixty degrees.”
“Fifty at six knots aye Sir.”
USS Stonewall Jackson slipped deeper down into the dark cold North Pacific, and the few surface eddies, the only trace that she’d been there, soon disappeared.
“Sonar. ID?”
“Sir, it’s a Sang-O. I can’t tell whether it’s a I or a II.”
“Weaps, armament?”
The Weapons Officer had the Dummies guide up on his screen. “Two tubes, Russian 53-65KE torpedoes. Sir. Phased array active homing, wire guided. Range, enough for this encounter, speed fifty one miles per hour.”
“Designate contact as Tango one, get me a firing solution. Has he spotted us?”
“Firing solution laid in, Sir. Mk 48 CBASS in tubes one two and three.”
“Weaps, get tube two ready.”
“Sir, tube flooded, outer doors open.” There was a ping against the hull, you didn’t need a headset on to hear it.
“He’s seen us now. Arm tube two.” Four miles was no distance, he knew this was a duel at twenty paces.
“Tube two fault, torpedo not arming.” Shit.
“Ready tube three.”
“Sonar, fish in the water.”
Damn. He calculated how long until it would be here; four minutes, 48 seconds.
“Weaps was on the line to the torpedo room, he knew to let him get on with it.
“Sonar. Fish now two miles.”
“Get countermeasures ready to port and starboard.” These would spin out from the boat emitting boat like sounds and blowing air out to create bubbles of confusion for the incoming torpedo.
“Tube three flooded, outer doors open. Ready in all respects.”
“Launch tube three.” There was a rushing sound up forward.
“Fish away. She’s tracking. The fish is hungry.”
“Sonar. Incoming fish one point one miles.” His voice showed signs of the stress they all felt. “Incoming fish point seven miles. Fish hunting, it’s turning around looking.”
Maybe it had lost lock?
“Steady now,” said Nathan. He didn’t feel too steady himself, but he couldn’t show it.
“Incoming fish locked on, point three miles. ” You could feel spirits fall and a few men cursed and sighed. The torpedo raced in on USS Stonewall Jackson at fifty miles an hour.
“Point two miles.” Nathan checked his wristwatch and waited. “Eject noisemakers.”
“Noisemakers ejected Sir.”
“Come hard to port on my mark,” he counted down the seconds, get it right, “now.” The boat heeled to the left. There was nothing else left to do.
“Sonar. Fish has gone for the noisemaker.” The control room cheered. There was a loud boom and the boat rolled to the left, then pulled up to normal as the sea turbulence subsided.
“Sonar. Our fish is running in. It’s gone active, pinging. Closing now, the revs are up. Hot datum. Hot datum. On target, yes. Sub is ripping up, she’s going down. We got her.” The control room cheered and
exchanged high fives.
“Ok, ok,” said Nathan, “that could have been us. Let’s get back to work people. Well done.” He smiled.
“Reload tube three with Mk 48 CBASS and find out what’s wrong with tube two.”
He looked to his XO. “If they don’t know already, they’ll know soon that they’ve lost a boat. They’ll be pissed.”
Now we’ve got the momentum, thought Nathan, how do we use it?
THE OVAL OFFICE. THE Whitehouse.
“YOU’RE TELLING ME WE do nothing, nothing? Crazy bozo is laughing at us and we just sit here like a bleeding heart surrender monkey from Vermont?”
The National Security Adviser knew he’d have to play this one carefully.
“No, Mr President, but we’ll look weak if we just start shooting from the hip. We have to out think these guys. Be patient, but be ready with both barrels when the time’s right.”
“I’m all out of patience with this fat fuck.”
“Can we get two coffees in here, Mr President?”
“What?” The President stared at him. “Yeah, why not.” He pressed the call button. “Two coffees in here. OK. Yes, Penny.”
THIS HAD TO WORK FOR Peekaboo’s sake, thought Stockhaisen. Penny set the coffees down and left. He’d have to try.
“I think it’s like the Tortoise and the Hare, Mr President. We’d be wise to play the Tortoise for now. Let me get together with the brass at the Pentagon and we’ll find a way to smoke him out. His ass’ll be handed to him on a plate when we’re done.”
The President considered. “Ok, but I get to bitch slap that mother?”
“Yeah, all you want.”
“Ok, you’ve got your time. But I want his ass and I want it roasted.”
The National Security Advisor smiled. “Would you like fries and pickle with that?”
THE SEA OF JAPAN. TWENTY five miles off Sinpo. North Korea.
“RIG TRIM TO ASCEND fore and aft. Up bubble fifteen. Come to periscope depth.” The deck tilted to the rear and all leaned forward. The planesman pushed forward on the yoke and the deck levelled.
“Stream the communications buoy.”
Nathan walked over to the communications officer’s console.
“Lieutenant Commander Lemineux send this to COMSUBPAC.” Nathan handed him a note.
“Sir.”
PRIORITY RED
R 271345Z JUL 86 ZY10
STONEWALL JACKSON
PACFLT// ID S072RQ81//
TO COMSUBPAC PEARL HARBOR HAWAII//N1//
NAVAL OPS/02
MSGID/STONEWALL JACKSON 479/ ACTUAL//
MSG BEGINS://
REQUEST BIGBIRD TAKE ON MAYANG-DO ISLAND BASE. SEOPUNG MOORING.
EASTERN APPROACHES TO SINPO AND MAYANG-DO.
MSG END//
FIVE HUNDRED MILES above Xinjiang. Western China.
THE EVOLVED ENHANCED CRYSTAL reconnaissance satellite USA-186 received the command to burn its motor, lowering its orbit to a perigee of one hundred and forty miles over Eastern Korea. The burn occurred over Haxix, followed by the longer burn to correct the orbital inclination of the satellite to pass over the correct north south position required. The exposures would be taken over Sinpo, on the North Korean east coast.
Each of the Bigbird satellites cost more to make and launch than a nuclear powered Nimitz class aircraft carrier. It could resolve its image down to a couple of inches. Bigbird passed over its target at 17,000mph, shooting multiple times. The motor burned again to return it to a higher apogee. When it crossed the Pacific and was over CONUS, its onboard computer linked up with the NRO via area 58, classified location, but thought by many to be Fort Belvoir, Northern Virginia.
The processed files were transferred and stored securely by the NRO, then the results passed to COMSUMPAC Pearl Harbor.
HOURS LATER, USS STONEWALL Jackson returned to periscope depth and picked up the take relayed from the reconnaissance satellite USA-186.
Lemineux transferred the images to an 11” tablet.
“Here you go Sir.”
“Thanks. Flood forward one”, said Nathan, “open and trim vents fore and aft. Make for depth. Down bubble fifteen, make your depth sixty. All stop. XO, Kaminski. Wardroom.” They made their way aft. “I’m going to the galley for three coffees.”
The XO and Nikki Kaminski sat.
“War committee, Kaminski, that’s a new one for you,” said the XO.
“It is, I was nervous at first but I’m getting more used to it now.”
“You’re doing fine, just tell it like you see it. That’s what he wants. You bring a fresh eye.”
Nathan returned with the coffees. “So we have a recent Bigbird pass. Let’s give it a good looking over.” They spent five minutes viewing and zooming in on the details. The resolution was stunning.
“So what’s your view?”
“I can’t see any evidence of net fixings on the mainland or the island side. Nor any in the berthing area of the Seopung,” said Larry, “but they’re clearly there at the western entrance.”
“Mines?” said Nikki.
“Could be,” Nathan rubbed his temples. “You don’t normally use them in that situation, but who knows how the PRKN think?”
“I know they won’t have left the back door open, they’ll have done something to keep out the ROK Navy and us.” said Larry, “But it’s your call, Nathan.”
Nathan looked at Nikki, trying to ignore her blue eyes, and curvy form under the uniform coverall. “Nikki, what do you think?”
“I don’t think we’ll get in. But you never know. Park Dong-Rot doesn’t think so either. He may be overconfident?”
“Park Dong-Rot?”
“It’s a name I’ve heard around the boat Si.. Nathan. Derogatory term for the North Koreans.”
Nathan smiled. “Yeah, well let’s see if we can do it. We’ll have to take it nice and slow.”
THEY RETURNED TO THE control room and Nathan studied the chart. “Get us a course to here Kaminski, mid channel.”
The USS Stonewall Jackson made her way at five knots towards the middle of the eastern channel. She arrived at her start point. Up above the light was fading; another hour should do it, he thought.
“Right, H hour is 18.30.” He knew he’d a good team, on the boat. The COB was a shit-eating Texan, Seamus Cox. Nobody, but nobody, crossed Dick.
XO Larry Sayers was from some hard-knocks part of Chicago, tough and hard but thoughtful with it.
Nikki Kaminski was a Georgian Gal from Macon. She’d look the part, dressed in her finery like her Confederate ancestors, parading through Savannah in a horse-drawn carriage or on a riverboat. But she’d a mind as sharp as a whip. He’d a good team aboard, he knew they’d need one. He looked at his wristwatch. 18.20.
“Control room. Rig for red.” The room was bathed in a dull red light, it would allow his eyes to adjust to the night view in the periscope.
He’d be using the screen in front of him, and night vision viewer in the scope. But, you never knew. Just before H hour, he unhooked the microphone.
“ALL HANDS, ALL HANDS. We are standing just off the eastern entrance to the enemy’s naval base. We’re going to try sneaking in tonight. It’s going to be tough, rig for silent running. We’re here to sink a boat that Uncle Sam wants on the bottom, he asked for us. When you need a hard job doing, you ask for the best and Stonewall Jackson’s the meanest son of a bitch there is. Park Dong-Rot will have his Dong cut off tonight. We’ll push off now. Commander out.”
He looked around at the figures bathed in the dull red light.
“Forward, speed three knots.” She advanced forward slowly, the minutes ticked slowly by.
“Sonar. Requesting coast, Sir.”
“Coast the boat.”
The prop came to a stop. Nathan let him listen.
“Sir, there’s something out there. It’s not a vessel, it’s a faint noise. Like the tide’s running past something. I don’t know what, but it’s not changing.” He knew
it could be some obstacle, even some kind of mine. Only one thing for it. He walked aft to the Goat Locker; this was the Chief Petty Officers’ living and socialising space. Nathan knocked and entered.
“CPO Innes, could I have a word outside please?” The two men talked out in the companionway. “We’ve found something out there, or sonar has; we don’t know what it is. Would you like a night swim?”
“Not really, Sir. But seeing as you’ve asked, I’ll do it.”
“Thanks, we’re at a stop. The sail’s at seventy feet. It’ll be black out there.”
“I’ll get started, Sir.”
Innes got his assistant and donned his warm undersuit and then his dry suit. He set up the CIS Lunar rebreather and his assistant helped him put it on. Everything was clipped shut. His assistant double-checked that all valves were set as they should be, then signalled to the COB in the control room.
“Sir, CPO Innes is ready to enter the sail.”
“Tell him to go ahead.”
The COB passed back a thumbs up signal.
The inner hatch opened and Innes climbed in. He closed the hatch and spun the wheel. Water filled the sail, and he switched on a helmet light. He spun the wheel again and lifted the hatch, then Innes pulled himself out into the gloom. He took hold of his line and clipped on to a fixing on the deck, then swam upward out of the hatch, letting the line reel out behind him. Innes took a sighting on the compass, two six five, and finned out into the black emptiness. His gauges read seventy feet, two six five degrees. Nothing but the slight hiss and pop of his valves, just blackness. Fin on. Innes’s world shrank to this. There was nothing else but you, and what you were doing. That was how it had to be. You were alone out there in the black. His gages read seventy feet, two six five degrees. There was only blackness. Nothing but the slight hiss and pop of his valves, just blackness. Finn on.