by Stephen Makk
“Keep a good ear out Ratty.” As they fell away from the surface it became quiet. HMS Holy Ghost was at home in the dark, quiet and peaceful depths. After several minutes searching, it happened.
“Conn Sonar. Sub surface contact ahead, depth one hundred, bearing two eight nine, range three point four kilometres, speed twelve knots. Iran navy library has it identified as the Siyah Bambak. Lucky guess Sir.”
“There’s no luck involved in it,” Luke lied, “I knew it was here.”
Luke picked up the handheld microphone and pressed the red button next to his conn station twice. Whoop, Whoop. “Action stations, action stations. Submarine warning red.” Whoop, Whoop. “Action stations, action stations. Submarine warning red. All through the boat, men and women donned white anti-flash hoods. Compartment doors were closed, and action stations were manned. Damage control crews put on their breathing apparatus but left the masks off. They were ready. Holy Ghost was a well-oiled war machine.
Luke looked to Savita, “Weps, status report.”
“Tubes one, two, five and six loaded with Spearfish, ready in all respects, the fish are hungry.”
“Speed twelve knots. Get us well into his baffles.”
“Twelve aye Sir,” said the Planesman. The Ghost moved closer to the prey.
“Conn Sonar aspect change, he’s turning sharp to port, still turning.” Ratty listened intently. “Crazy Ivan, crazy Ivan. He’s increasing revs.” In the cold war an abrupt about turn and charge to clear its baffles by a Soviet submarine is called a “Crazy Ivan.” The Kilo was turning to rush straight for them. It had turned to port, Luke had little option.
“All ahead full, turn to starboard.” The boat leaned to the right, it’s crew held on. The Ghost sped off to the right of its prey. Luke cursed under his breath, they’d just made a lot of noise carrying out the evasive manoeuvre. After two minutes came the news he just didn’t want to hear.
“Conn Sonar. Three surface impacts, it’s a Limbo salvo Sir. The Frigate’s heard us and fired anti-submarine mortars.
“Shit.” Luke knew they’d be fused for depth. “Flood one, two and three, emergency dive.” The Ghost’s bow dipped and she plunged into the depths. Her normal working depth was four hundred meters but she could dive to six hundred. Above her, the three powerful mortar rounds sank towards Holy Ghost.
“One hundred and sixty meters Sir,” called out the Planesman.
“Two hundred Sir.” Luke knew they’d be set to explode at three different depths to maximise the chance of a hit.
“Conn Sonar. Fish in the water, fish in the water, Soviet type sixty five.”
“Two hundred and forty deep Sir.”
“Come to one fifty degrees.”
“Weapons. Countermeasures ready Sir,” called Savita. Luke was turning Ghost back towards the Siyah Bambak. A metallic creaking sound ran through the boat due to hull squeeze.
“Two ninety deep Sir.”
A ripple of dull explosions sounded through the hull.
There was a shaking of the hull, due to the overpressure, the metallic creaking sound vibrated the tortured hull. The depths shook violently as the Limbo rounds exploded. Luke knew more would follow.
“Damage control report.”
“Weapons. I have a firing solution on Tango two,” she called out. Her voice carried a strain.
“Incoming fish six hundred meters. Impact thirty seconds.” Ratty’s voice had an edge to it now. Luke counted down.
“Impact in twenty five seconds.” Luke’s hand gripped the mount he leaned on.
“Weps, dance the Lure.” Savita’s hands flew across her console.
“The Lure’s dancing Sir,” said Savita.
“Impact in fifteen seconds.” The Lure danced its dance of temptation.
“Release countermeasures. Blow one two and three, Planesman, emergency ascent. Maximum revs.”
The boat’s deck tilted up at an alarming angle and people hung on with white knuckles. “Weps, flood tube one, open outer doors, tube one.” The two noisemakers emitted sounds like a submarine running at full speed and blew out clouds of bubbles confusing the Soviet torpedo’s sonar. Holy Ghost’s prop spun at full revs and the vibration throbbed throughout the boat.
“Impact, nine seconds. Six seconds. Fish is going to port, the fish is going for a noisemaker.” A tremendous booming rumble sounded and the boat shook violently, the steel hull creaked and groaned then lurched hard to starboard and rolled. The crew clung on to anything they could grab. The rumble subsided, the control room crew looked around the room. They were still alive. Luke picked up the communications handset.
“Damage control report.” He replaced the handset.
“Tango one sitrep Ratty.”
“Range one point eight Kilometres, depth one hundred.”
“Weps, give him a belly shot.”
“Snapshot, snapshot, called Savita, “Warshot red. Warshot red. Launch tube one, launch tube one.” She pressed the launch button.
“Fish is running and hungry,” she said. “Fish has acquired the target, time to impact, fifty six seconds,” She decided to leave cutting the guidance wire till the last possible moment to prevent Siyah Bambak’s countermeasures from distracting the fish. She steered the fish low and would bring it up at the last minute.
“Conn Sonar. Three surface impacts, another Limbo salvo Sir.” What a bloody time, thought Luke, just when we had a fish in the water.
“All ahead full, make your depth one hundred.” The deck angled up and Holy Ghost rose, it was a gamble, convention said dive but the Kilo had to be taken out. The seconds went by, all the control room knew the three mortars were falling from the surface, had they put enough distance between them? How accurate were the Limo’s operators? If the operators had got their position wrong then Ghost could be heading into the three rounds. It was ironic, but Luke found himself hoping they were accurate. Three explosions erupted behind the Ghost. The boat lurched forward, two of the crew fell as they were pushed forward. The Planesman fell onto his steering yoke. The deck tilted forward. The hull was a bulk of groaning steel. Shit, that was close thought Luke. The deck tilted to the left and then to the right in the boiling waters. The Ghost then started to settle and right herself.
Savita still had control of her fish, she looked at the counter, fifteen seconds to impact. She angled it upwards under Siyah Bambak’s hull.
“Fish is hungry,” she had an edge of anger in her voice, “it’s sniffing, sniffing. Fish is now greedy, it’s starving, terminal boost kicking in. Cutting the wire.”
“Sonar, fish pinging, closing, closing Ratty called out as the Spearfish raced in at over sixty miles per hour.
“Hot datum! hot datum! Tango two.” Savita raised both her arms, clenched her fists and shook them.
“Yes.”
Luke picked up the broadcast microphone. “Boats Company. We were tasked with sinking two Iranian Kilo class boats. Just south of The Gate of Grief we’ve called a hot datum on the second boat. Well done everybody, the Ghost has struck again.” Luke recited a corruption of the naval hymn.
“Lord God, our power evermore
Whose arm doth reach the ocean floor
Dive with our men beneath the sea
Traverse the depths deceptively
O hear us when we pray, and hunt
them out, there’s peril in the deep.
The Ghost is coming for you.” He replaced the microphone.
“Mr Ratty. Sitrep on the Frigate.”
“Two point three kilometres, bearing eighteen degrees.”
“Come to zero degrees.” The Holy Ghost leaned to the right and turned to the north.
“What’s its depth?” Ratty Southworth looked over.
“Depth? It’s on the surface Sir.”
“I said what’s it’s depth Ratty?” The sonar operator smiled.
“Too fucking shallow Sir.”
“I agree. Weps mark surface contact as Tango three. Flood tube two.”
> “Contact designated as Tango three aye.”
“Open outer doors on tube two,”
“I have a firing solution on Tango three,” said Savita. Outer doors open tube two. Tube ready in all respects. The fish is hungry.” This was it, you don’t attack HMS Holy Ghost and live to tell the tail.
Savita was enjoying this. “Warshot red. Warshot red. Launch tube two, launch tube two.” She pressed the launch button.
“Fish is running and hungry,” she said. “Fish has acquired the target, time to impact, thirty six seconds,”
She steered the fish in. “Impact in twenty three seconds.” She’d come in from the port side. “Impact in twelve seconds. Cutting the wire. Impact in six seconds.”
“Pinging, pinging. Hot datum!, hot datum!” called out Ratty. A Spearfish rammed amidships into the Frigate Sahand and three hundred kilograms of Aluminised PBX blew her in half. Within two minutes there was just scattered debris were the warship had once sailed.
“Come to one eight zero degrees. Up angle 15 degrees, make your depth thirty five meters. Speed five knots.” The boat turned south and ascended, its deck angled upwards.
“Depth thirty five Sir.”
“Stream the comms buoy.” A communications buoy was released from the sail and arose tethered to the boat. Luke typed out a report to Royal Navy command at Northwood. He read it through and then sent it via satellite.
Home FLT Holy Ghost. ID 8337fj5c3
RN FLT Command Northwood. Commander Task force 311. ID 795y6d43
23.07 Zulu. MSG START:
Iranian submarines Nahang and Siyah Bambak along with an Arvand class Frigate, now sunk south of The Gate of Grief. They now sleep with the fishes. The nation expected and HMS Holy Ghost did her duty. Bless those who serve beneath the deep, through lonely hours their vigil keep.
MSG END:
Luke walked back to his cabin and returned, he handed a tape to the Communications officer.
“Broadcast this, the frequency is written on the cover.”
“Sir.”
The tape was played and broadcast over the airwaves, the signal was relayed over the control room speakers. It was spoken in a guttural language with drawn out hahhgh sounds.
“What’s that Sir?” asked the Communications officer.
“It’s Hebrew,” said the Exec, “somebody’s queering the pitch.” When it ended, Luke took back the tape and returned to his conn station.
“We have an acknowledgement of our transmission Sir, and an added signal download from Northwood.”
“Ok print it off.
Rewind the comms buoy. Down angle fifteen degrees, make your depth one hundred, speed twenty five knots. Lt Commander Cartwright, chart a course for the Cape of Good Hope. The other Frigate can rescue survivors, if there are any.” The Holy Ghost would now make her way back to Plymouth, her duty done.
Luke took the printout from RN Fleet HQ Northwood back to his cabin. He sat at his desk and read the message.
HOME FLT HOLY GHOST. ID 8337fj5c3
RN FLT Command Northwood. Commander Task force 311. ID 795y6d43
21.12 Zulu.
MSG START:
Intelligence document issued by MI6. Captains eyes only. Destroy after reading.
USSR
Committee for State Security of the USSR. KGB.
Council of Ministers.
Number 1833
Moscow.
SECRET 19556. Issued by KGB Third Chief Directorate.
Eyes only directorate heads. 6/12/1982
To be returned to the CPSU
General Department
Operation by Red Banner Northern Fleet submarine K525 Arkhangelsk.
K525 Arkhangelsk operation now considered classified by orders of REDACTED TEXT. REDACTED TEXT.
Her confrontation with Royal Navy submarine HMS Sultan will be struck from the report.
The confrontation at REDACTED TEXT REDACTED TEXT in the South Atlantic is henceforth a retrospective black operation. This is subject to code 12 state security seals.
Red Banner Northern fleet chain of command change.
This is subject to code 12 state security seals.
The change of command on operations is also classified. The new female Captain of K525 Arkhangelsk.......
.............UNFORTUNATELY, SHE was killed in the confrontation but, REDACTED TEXT. REDACTED TEXT.
Reports that British Special Boat Service operators were involved is REDACTED TEXT. REDACTED TEXT.
The reported communication problems with Soviet Naval vessels is REDACTED TEXT. REDACTED TEXT. is subject to a detailed investigation by Eighth and Sixteenth main directorates.
An alleged nuclear incident at Novaya Zemlya is a rumour and to be denied, this matter is subject to code 12 state security seals.
Any personnel revealing the above to anyone, will be summarily executed without the publicity of a trial.
By order REDACTED TEXT.
COPY OF ORIGINAL DOCUMENT:-
СССР
Комитет государственной безопасности СССР. КГБ.
Совет министров.
Номер 1833
Москва.
CEKPET 19556. Выпущено Третьим Главным управлением КГБ.
Глаза только руководители. 6/12/1982
Чтобы вернуться в ЦК КПСС
Общий отдел
Операция Красного Знамени Северный флот подводной лодки К525 Архангельск.
Операция Архангельска K525 теперь считается классифицированной по заказам УДАЛЕННЫЙ ТЕКСТ. УДАЛЕННЫЙ ТЕКСТ.
Ее противостояние с подводной лодкой Royal Navy HMS Sultan будет удалено из отчета.
Конфронтация в УДАЛЕННЫЙ ТЕКСТ УДАЛЕННЫЙ ТЕКСТ
в Южной Атлантике впредь является ретроспективной черной операцией. Это подпадает под действие законов безопасности 12-го поколения.
Kрасный баннер Северный флот сменил команду.
Это подпадает под действие законов безопасности 12-го поколения.
Изменение команды на операции также классифицируется. Новая женщина-капитан K525 Архангельск .......
............. К СОЖАЛЕНИЮ, ОНА БЫЛА убита в конфронтации, но, УДАЛЕНО ТЕКСТ. УДАЛЕННЫЙ ТЕКСТ.
Сообщается, что задействованы британские операторы специальных лодочных служб - УДАЛЕННЫЙ ТЕКСТ. УДАЛЕННЫЙ ТЕКСТ.
Сообщается о проблемах связи с советскими военно-морскими судами - УДАЛЕННЫЙ ТЕКСТ. УДАЛЕННЫЙ ТЕКСТ. Подлежит подробному расследованию Восьмой и шестнадцатой главными управлениями.
Предполагаемый ядерный инцидент на Новой Земле - это слух, и его можно отрицать, этот вопрос подлежит тюремному заключению 12 государственных охранных печатей.
Любой персонал, раскрывающий это выше всем, Будут выполняться в полном объеме без публичности судебного разбирательства.
По заказу УДАЛЕННЫЙ ТЕКСТ.
MSG END:
Luke shredded the document. Later he would personally take the remnants to the dis
posal chute.
He sat back and looked to the ceiling. This news provided a few pieces of the jigsaw. He was aware of Sultan’s odd deployment and now it made more sense. It had been no secret that the Soviets had been run ragged. With Eighth and Sixteenth main directorates of the KGB involved GCHQ was the suspect.
He shook his head and smiled. So, mutiny aboard Arkhangelsk with a female taking the Captaincy and was later killed. Luke knew he’d like to know the story behind that one.
Chapter 7
THE DOG AND DUCK. CANTERBURY. Kent.
DOUGIE PLACED HIS PINT of London Pride on the table and took a seat.
“How are ya, Doug?”
“Fine Kev. Been in long?”
“No, this is my first one,” he said sipping his pint. Dougie watched a shapely young woman in tight jeans walk by.
“You’ll go blind you know?” Dougie shrugged.
“Looking’s free.”
“Look at this Doug,” Kevin closed his copy of The Sun newspaper and showed his friend the headlines. There was a photograph of a submarine and a bold headline.
“The Ghost got em. Iran and Russia furious.” He opened up the paper, there were diagrams and maps of the action. Above was the banner “It was 4 on 1 and the score was 3 nil.”
“I saw it on the news, they had it coming to them. It’s the Russians that say it was the Holy Ghost, our lot’s saying nothing.” Kevin prodded the page with a finger.
“Yeah, it’s kicked off now, for sure. They reckon there’s one hundred and twenty blokes gone down with the subs and that ship.”
“I heard on Radio 4 that they’d picked up an Israeli Navy broadcast from the area just after the battle. The yanks and the Saudis picked it up.”
“You never know with this sort of thing, fucking wheels within wheels and all that stuff,” said Kevin.
“You wouldn’t get me in one of them bloody submarine things. Why do they call it the Holy Ghost anyway Kev?”