by Cliff Happy
“And the diesel?” Graves asked, knowing if the sonar reports were correct there was a diesel-electric submarine in the British boat’s baffles.
“The only people with diesel boats around here are North Koreans and maybe a Russian looking to get into trouble,” Brodie reasoned. “I bet the diesel was lying quietly somewhere, the Astute just happened to pass by, and the diesel got lucky and picked up her plant noises. Just like Kris did.”
“Do you think the diesel is looking for some payback after losing that Whiskey boat?”
“Maybe,” Brodie considered thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look like the Brit knows he has a tail.”
“What’re you gonna do?” Jason asked pointedly. “We can’t shoot at the diesel unless they fire first.”
“Con, sonar. Classify Sierra Seven as Lada class Russian diesel-electric submarine, bearing zero-zero-four, speed nine knots, range eight hundred yards, course two-seven-five, over.” Senior Chief Miller reported. “Sonar contact Astute-One, bearing zero-zero-three, speed nine knots, range fifteen hundred yards, course two-seven-five, over.”
“What’s a Russian doing chasing a Brit?” Graves asked.
“It’s not a Russian boat,” Brodie replied. “He’s North Korean. The Russians have been selling all their old stuff.”
“The diesel’s right on the Astute’s ass,” Graves warned, knowing the Korean was in a perfect firing position.
“And we’re on his,” Brodie said with an amused smile.
“What’s so funny?”
Brodie didn’t reply. Instead, he made certain the tracking parties had a firing solution on the Korean submarine before returning to the periscope platform. He pulled down the microphone for the sonar shack. “Sonar, con. Initiate Yankee Search.”
Graves looked at Brodie curiously. A Yankee Search was a sonar search using the Seawolf’s powerful active sonar. The active sonar would send out massive sonar pulses into the water and was perfect for finding hidden submarines. But the effect would also alert the entire Sea of Japan as to the Seawolf’s location, so most submariners never used the active system.
“Captain?” Graves asked, a bit surprised at the order.
“Say again?” Chief Miller echoed the XO’s thoughts via the speaker, apparently equally stunned by the unexpected order.
“Keep us tight in her baffles,” Brodie ordered Graves and then headed forward to sonar.
It soon became evident what Brodie wanted. A moment after he disappeared into the sonar shack, the Seawolf’s active sonar began pounding the North Korean submarine, letting them know they weren’t the only hunters in the area.
Immediately, the North Korean submarine started evasive maneuvers trying to escape the Seawolf. Over the next ten minutes, the North Korean executed a series of ever more complex escape maneuvers. But the ancient diesel-electric boat was neither fast enough nor nimble enough to escape the Seawolf as Graves kept them locked in tight behind the dancing Korean submarine. Every time the Korean ceased its maneuvering, Brodie initiated another Yankee Search and hammered the Korean mercilessly until finally the North Korean, realizing it was way out of its league, surfaced, engaged its diesel engines, and raced back to the relative safety of home waters.
Kristen was still seated in front of the spectrum analyzer. She could feel herself grinning from ear to ear. The tension they’d all been feeling had faded as they watched their captain toy with the North Korean until the other sub captain finally gave up and headed for home. Chief Miller, still smoking a cigarette, had nearly split a seam laughing as every time the Korean thought they’d lost the Seawolf, Brodie calmly reached over and powered up the active sonar, and sent the North Korean into a series of new evasive maneuvers.
“Sneaky son of a bitch,” Miller chuckled in admiration as Brodie secured the active search once the Korean surfaced and fled.
Brodie, looking a little pleased with himself, addressed Miller. “There’s no smoking in here, Chief,” he said with a crooked grin. He then pointed a finger toward Fabrini. “And I think you owe Mister Fabrini fifty bucks.”
Miller dropped the cigarette to the deck and crushed it with the toe of his tennis shoe. “Aye, Skipper. Whatever you say.”
Then, as Brodie was about to leave, he paused and glanced back in. “Oh, and the next time the Lieutenant says she hears something, I suggest we listen.” He shot her a brief, rather proud grin and then returned to the control room.
Chapter Forty Seven
Wardroom, USS Seawolf
Kristen finished her cold turkey sandwich and washed it down with a cup of tea. She’d managed a couple of hours of sleep, but no more. Nightmares had far outnumbered her sweet dreams, and after tossing and turning in her bunk and trying to sort out a myriad of conflicting emotions, she’d gotten up. She’d avoided the captain’s cabin, and instead, chose to use the regular officers’ bathroom, much to Ski’s chagrin whom she’d kept waiting while she brushed her teeth and hair. Then, following a visit to the sickbay to check on Lieutenant Cheng, she came to the wardroom.
Graves walked in as she was finishing up her meal, and she greeted him politely.
“Good job on that Lada boat, Lieutenant,” he congratulated her in greeting. “It’s all Miller has been talking about.”
“I got lucky, sir,” she answered and shifted her left hand under the table to hide the slight tremor that had returned.
“Yeah, sure you did,” he replied skeptically as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “When are you going on watch again?”
Kristen glanced at the digital clock on the wall. “Zero-eight-hundred, sir.”
“Good,” he answered. “We’ll be surfacing in a little bit, and I need a couple of lookouts.”
To be chosen to go on the bridge while at sea was considered a privilege and often used as a reward for good service. Kristen knew the XO probably thought the assignment would be seen in that light. But Kristen was momentarily horrified at the thought of being on the bridge with the captain. Other than their brief encounter in the sonar shack, she hadn’t seen or spoken to him since the incident in his cabin, and she still wasn’t sure how she should apologize to him.
“Unless you aren’t feeling up to it?” he asked, apparently noticing her hesitation.
“No, sir,” she answered quickly. “I’m fine.”
He paused, and she felt him watching her closely. “All right then. Can you think of someone else who deserves a little fresh air?”
Kristen thought for a moment, forcing her memories regarding Brodie aside. “Petty Officer Hicks,” she said after a few seconds.
He nodded his head in approval, but his eyes watched her carefully over his coffee mug. “Are you sure you’re all right, Kristen?”
She wasn’t. But, since joining the Navy, there’d only been one right answer for such a question. “Yes, sir,” she said automatically and almost believed it herself. “I’m good to go.”
“Good,” he replied and paused by the door as he headed out. “Oh, one other thing.”
“Sir?”
“The skipper wanted to see you in his cabin at your earliest convenience.”
Kristen nodded her head dumbly. She’d lain awake in her bunk trying to figure out what she would say to him the next time she had the chance. She’d replayed the incident in his cabin over and over again in her mind, trying to determine just what it had meant. Her head had been in a fog, and she had a hard time recalling the details, other than his kiss which had sent her head into a spin she still hadn’t quite recovered from. This in and of itself was significant. She could remember every detail of nearly every event in her life. Names of near strangers from her childhood, her grandparent’s license plate number when she was nine, the most ridiculous and mundane details had been stored forever in her memory. But that brief moment had been a blur.
She’d finally satiated her need for a logical answer to what she was feeling and what had happened. She decided it was nothing but stress and exhaustion. They were all working und
er incredible stress, and sleep had been a rare commodity for weeks.
Stress and exhaustion. That was all it was.
Nothing more.
A few minutes later, she paused outside Brodie’s cabin. She knew it was ridiculous to be nervous. She’d fought the entire Navy to get what she wanted. Admirals had slammed their doors in her face. The CNO had threatened her, and the Secretary of the Navy had literally laughed at her request. But none of them had intimidated her like the man waiting for her on the other side of the door.
Get a grip, Kristen.
“Enter,” he replied after a single knock.
Kristen opened the door and stepped in. She immediately turned to close it, not wanting anyone to intrude on them. She needed to apologize and try to explain herself. But, there was nothing she could say. She didn’t think he was mad, but he certainly wouldn’t be comfortable around her any more. All she’d ever wanted was for him to treat her like everyone else. He had done so, and she’d taken advantage of him.
“Please leave that open, Lieutenant,” he suggested. He was pulling on his wet-weather parka in preparation for going topside in a few minutes.
“Sir?” she asked. He’d never asked her to leave it open before.
“The door,” he replied. “I thought you might like to leave it open.”
“No, sir,” she answered. The last thing she wanted was everyone on board knowing what had happened. If word of what occurred between them reached the crew, she would never be able to stay on the Seawolf. She could only imagine the ridicule she would be exposed to. “I’d prefer it closed, Captain.”
“As you wish,” he answered. “I won’t keep you long.”
“Yes, sir.” But now, alone with him, she wasn’t certain where to begin. “Sir, about earlier…”
But before she could say more, he raised a hand to silence her. “Say no more, Lieutenant,” he told her. “That is why I asked for you to come here. I wanted to offer my apologies,” he said simply and sincerely. “I have no excuse, and I hope you can accept my heartfelt regret for any discomfort I may have caused. You have served this submarine with nothing but honor, and I am truly ashamed of my behavior.”
Ashamed?! Sean Brodie ashamed?
“Sir, that is hardly necessary. In fact, I …” she began.
Once more he raised his hand to silence her. “I suggest, if under the circumstances you find the conditions on board intolerable, you report this incident to the XO. He will see to it that the proper authorities are notified. I can assure you, I’ll do all I can to see to it that you are assigned to any other submarine you choose.”
What?
Kristen wasn’t certain she was hearing him correctly. “No, sir!” she blurted out, feeling a little angry and more than a little confused. She distinctly remembered initiating everything that had happened, and now he was apologizing.
Apologizing to her!
“I want to stay here,” she said honestly. “I love the Seawolf, and I wouldn’t want to serve anywhere else.” She hesitated as her mind tried to come up with something to say. She’d expected nothing like this. “I just… I just want to get back to work, sir,” she insisted not at all certain what she wanted any longer. Her perfectly ordered world of facts, figures, right angles, and regulations hadn’t prepared her for the emotions she was struggling to understand.
“Are you sure about this, Lieutenant?” he asked. “I would hate for anything I’ve done to cause you to reconsider your choice to make the Navy a career.”
“Not at all, sir,” she assured him, suddenly feeling silly for her brief whimsical flights of fantasy. She’d actually thought, while lying in her bunk and thinking about the incident, that he might feel something for her. But now she realized it had all been a mistake. Her earlier conclusion had been confirmed. Stress and exhaustion.
Nothing more.
The untimely squawk box came to life, and the Officer of the Deck informed Brodie they were at the rendezvous point and were coming up to periscope depth.
“I’ll be right there,” Brodie answered and turned back toward her. “If you will excuse me, Lieutenant,” he said. “I’m needed in the control center.”
Kristen opened the door for him.
“Me, too,” she replied. “The XO assigned me to bridge lookout duty, sir.”
Brodie exited, and she followed, still not certain what had just happened. She’d been confused about what she was feeling before she’d entered his cabin, and she was even more confused after leaving it. But, as with everything else of a personal nature, she had to set her errant thoughts aside and focus on the next task facing her.
Within five minutes, they were back in the control room, and Kristen was buttoning up a wet-weather parka. They were at periscope depth, and the Seawolf was already beginning to be affected by the sea state. Brodie, his own parka on but not buttoned up, was at the periscope and conducting a quick surface search before surfacing. Beside her, Hicks was zipping up his own bright orange parka.
“Looks like those flyboys are gonna earn their pay tonight,” Brodie commented dryly as he did a three-hundred-sixty degree search of the sea around the Seawolf.
“It looks pretty bad up there, Skipper,” Graves commented as he watched the television monitor showing the image from the periscope.
Kristen waited anxiously. She did her best to hide her excitement at the thought of being on the surface in a storm with a hostile shore just over the horizon. She knew for many people, they might think her crazy. But at that moment, there was no place she would rather be, despite everything that had happened so far.
Brodie walked over to his bridge crew and briefed them. Normally he had two radiomen on the bridge with him, but this evening only Petty Officer Reynolds would go topside. He was in his own parka with the sound powered phone around his neck and his headset on already, plus he carried a portable ship’s phone he could plug in once he got on the bridge. Hicks looked nervous but ready just the same. Brodie removed his baseball cap and handed it to Gibbs.
“All right, we’ve got what looks like a gale brewing topside,” he explained. “Under no circumstances are any of you to leave the bridge and go onto the sail,” he ordered. “The helicopters are going to have enough trouble picking up our casualty without trying to rescue one of us if we go overboard.” He then pointed a finger at Kristen. “So, no swimming Lieutenant, no matter how bad you may want to. Got it?”
“Got it, sir,” she responded, unable to resist a knowing smile.
Brodie turned on Hicks and pulled the parka hood up over the sailor’s head. He gave a few final instructions as the Seawolf came to the surface, and then, with a look of someone who was having too much fun to be getting paid, he sprang onto the ladder and raced upward. Reynolds, who had apparently followed Brodie up the ladder enough times, motioned for Kristen to go next. “Ladies, first,” he offered.
Kristen didn’t hesitate and followed Brodie up. There was a slight pause as he loosened the hatch, and then, as Kristen looked upward, she heard the hatch open and felt a shower of icy seawater come crashing down. Brodie, who caught the worst of the shower, was cackling to himself as he continued on, and Kristen found herself grinning from ear to ear as she followed him.
Below her, Hicks asked Reynolds, “Does he always do that?”
“Every damn time,” Reynolds replied in exasperation. “He’s like a damn kid at a mud puddle. He just can’t resist stomping his feet in it.”
Once topside, Kristen secured her lifeline and moved to her lookout position on the bridge. The bridge was L-shaped with the long part of the L along the front of the sail. Her position was the front left and her area of responsibility was the forward half of the submarine. She was to keep her eyes open for any possible dangers in addition to the approaching helicopters. Hicks slid in behind her, taking the rear position and looking aft. Beside her, Reynolds went to work plugging in the phones.
To her dismay, Brodie climbed up onto the sail and sat down, his feet dangling
inside the bridge. It had been his orders telling all of them not to climb up on the sail for any reason because of the danger of going overboard in the heavy seas. Yet, he was now perched atop the sail looking off toward the northeast, completely at ease. He still hadn’t zipped up his parka, and he was already soaking wet. Kristen turned her attention away from him and pulled her baseball cap down a little tighter over her head to prevent it flying off in the stiff wind. She raised her night vision goggles to her eyes and began scanning her area of responsibility.
The waves were washing over the deck. The portion of the hull forward of the sail was completely underwater after every wave. She scanned the area, searching for any sign of the helicopters coming in to take Lieutenant Cheng off. As she watched, she felt the rain striking her exposed flesh like thousands of little BBs. Behind her, Brodie had activated an infrared strobe light. It was completely invisible to the naked eye, but through her night vision goggles it flashed brilliantly, and the helicopter pilots would be able to see it from nearly a thousand yards away in the current conditions.
“Seahawks are three minutes out, Captain!” Reynolds shouted to be heard as he relayed a message from the control center.
The SH-60F Seahawk was the Navy’s anti-submarine warfare version of the Army’s famous UH-60 Blackhawk. Usually jam-packed with sonar buoys, a magnetic anomaly detector, a dipping sonar, and a pair of aerial torpedoes, the SH-60F could also be used for medical evacuation.
Kristen maintained her search pattern. But the Seawolf was rolling and pitching terribly in the heavy seas. She couldn’t imagine how they would be able to get Lieutenant Cheng off in the current conditions. She then thought of the poor souls whose job it was to be on the aft deck handling Cheng’s litter and hooking him up. Kristen knew that Cheng’s SEAL team had volunteered for this extremely hazardous job, and she assumed that such dangers were nothing for these men.
“Tally-ho!” she shouted upon seeing a flashing light in the distance. “Two Seahawks coming in low off the port bow!”