D. M. Ulmer 01 - Silent Battleground

by D. M. Ulmer

  “I owe it just about everything.”

  Dan responded with a question. “No big family shoes in need of filling?”

  “Not really. My father died ten years ago.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Worked.”

  Dan had long noticed Brent’s reluctance to talk about himself. “I don’t mean to pry, but it’s sure hard to get anything out of you. We’ve known each other for two and half years and I don’t even know where you grew up. You oughta let me in on what matters to you. Example. You come down here every night to learn about classical music, but never ask any of us about it. Woody’s damn near an authority on the subject. He’d be happy if you’d ask him.”

  “I don’t know about all that.” Brent remained silent a moment then finding the situation awkward; he groped for the right words. “But your friendship is very important to me, Dan, especially right now.”

  “I won’t push it, Brent. You’re a big boy. Maybe a little softening up might help your case with the Old Man.”

  Brent looked at his friend and spoke sincerely, “Thanks, buddy.”

  Dave Zane looked up from his desk and out the window of his shack-turned-office. He caught the forms of Gerry Carter and another man climbing aboard the barge that supported the repair facility offices.

  Must be the new man to lead the Newport reduction gear repair effort.

  Carter and the newcomer entered the office.

  Gerry said, “Dave Zane, meet Darby Cameron.”

  Chapter 12

  Eric Danis thought, He sure is a teacher, during his interview with Commander Jim Buchanan, USN, the new prospective commander of Denver. He had initially discovered Buchanan’s knack for building student confidence by reading records of his past assignments at the United States Navy Submarine School. Danis hoped the command change would restore the morale of Denver’s officers, who he believed to chafe under Captain Bostwick’s bit.

  Danis asked, “I’m trying to recall. Did our paths ever cross?”

  The new man spoke with a trace of New England twang. “They did, Commodore, though I’d be surprised if you remembered me. You were exec on board the tender in Holy Loch in seventy-nine when I was on a Boomer. My first assignment out of sub school.”

  “Well, I’m sure if I thought about it, I’d fit you into some of the great memories I have of that wonderful place.”

  Jim Buchanan’s face brightened as he remembered. “It is nice there. My wife met me after a patrol in the summer of eighty. We spent two weeks together and had a wonderful time.”

  “Eve and I loved it there too. We managed to get a few beautiful weekends in the West Highlands. It’s easy to see why the Scots have such passion for their land.”

  “Sir, this is my first visit to the Pacific Northwest and it reminds me very much of Scotland. It’s rustic and untamed by comparison to the rest of the country. Don’t you think so, sir?”

  “Now that you mention it, Jim, I do see the resemblance. But we have a ways to go to fully measure up.”

  Jim agreed, “Quite a way if we’re to match the Scottish cost of living. But we do have a start, don’t we, sir?”

  “That we do, Jim, that we do.” Then getting down to business, Eric continued, “You’re getting a helluva fine ship with Denver. As you probably know, they’re just out of overhaul and in pretty good shape. Only problem is they’re in WestPac and not due back for a month.”

  “Well let’s hope it’s with a few scalps in her belt. We need some good news for a change. In the meantime, sir, I have no illusions about the future commanding officer bit. Please put me to work wherever there’s a hole I can fill. I’ve been sitting on my duff at submarine school the past three years and I’m ready to put my hands back on some hardware, even if it’s a knuckle-buster. You’ve worked a miracle out here and I want to be part of it. Just give me a steer and I’m off.”

  “I appreciate your attitude, Jim. I understand you taught in the Tactics Department at sub school. I’d like you to review our weapons overhaul setup and then give some thought to an ASW defense scheme we’ve worked up. Lieutenant Commander Dutch Meyer runs both operations and can use the help.”

  Jim laughed then said, “Not the same Dutch Meyer from Holy Loch. That turkey was a lieutenant when I first showed up as a JG. He ran my ass all over the tender. I probably needed it, but don’t tell him that now that I rank him.”

  Danis said with mock caution, “Well don’t be too hard on him.”

  “Nobody in the whole Navy could be tough on Dutch. It’ll be a pleasure working with him again.”

  “Now, about quarters. I’m spending my evenings at home ashore and you’re welcome to these.”

  Jim smiled, showing his appreciation for the offer. Quite tempting, but an established custom of the service is that generous offers by high-ranking officers are expected, but always politely declined.

  “I’m afraid I might get too used to this. Thank you, sir, but I’ll find a place to stash the bones.”

  “Well then,” Danis replied, “Welcome to the Pitstop. It’s good to have you here.”

  “It’s damn good to be here, sir.”

  At battle stations aboard USS Denver, Captain Bostwick ordered, “Give me the course for a thirty degree lead,” as they closed upon the first big game of the patrol, an Alfa class submarine.

  Brent thought, Damn it. The typical attack trainer solution. When the hell will Bostwick realize this is not a drill to be graded by the Squadron Commander and cited in his next fitness report? This is war and for all the marbles. “Recommend point the target with no lead, Captain. He’s too close to worry about torpedo run. This’ll reduce his chance of hearing us and we can shoot into his baffles.”

  Captain Bostwick did not respond immediately, but after a moment, he ordered, “Rudder amidships, steady.”

  The helmsman responded with, “Amidships, steady two-three-five, Captain.”

  Bostwick gave progressive rudder orders which kept Denver’s bow in a tight point on the target as it rumbled by to the West, not more than a mile away.

  Brent thought, Those arrogant bastards. They’re making fifteen knots and more noise than a sea bag full of broken dishes. He learned during earlier surveillance operations they could be much quieter at those speeds. Maybe it exceeds the Alfa Soviet comprehension that a U.S. submarine could reach this position undetected.

  “Tubes one and two fully ready, Captain,” reported Brent. “Presets entered and matched,” having already advised the skipper but believed he needed a subtle reminder.

  “Want to be sure he’s beyond enable range before we shoot.”

  The executive officer said, “Target speed fifteen, Captain. That’s 500 yards every sixty seconds.”

  Even the XO wants to shoot now, Brent thought. This guy can accelerate and go fast, maybe more than fifty knots. Wait too long and an ADCAP will have a helluva time catching up.

  A minute went by. Two minutes. Brent could stand it no more. “Recommend shoot, Captain.”

  The captain continued with Attack Teacher doctrine. “Match bearings and shoot.”

  Brent reasoned, With the target twenty-five hundred yards away, matching bearings takes valuable time and adds nothing to success probability. He disregarded Bostwick’s command and quickly ordered, “Fire one!”

  The ACC operator activated the launch key.

  Sonar reported, “ADCAP running on the bearing and masking target, Conn.”

  The captain asked, “Doppler enable in?”

  Brent replied, “In sir. We have wire continuity.”

  Denver continued to communicate with the weapon as it sped toward the target. The display on the MK 81 console presented a chart of the attack area in miniature. It included Denver’s, the target’s and the torpedo’s positions, continuously upgraded. All eyes, except the ever-wary Brent’s, focused on the console. He scanned other visual indicators in the Attack Center, particularly those transmitted from sonar.

  First, it appeared
as a flicker, a transient in submarine jargon on the Acoustic Intercept Receiver display. The second flicker damn sure wasn’t a transient and the third one confirmed it.

  The calm sound of Brent’s voice did not reflect the churning in the pit of his stomach as he announced, “Inbound torpedo in the water, not ours.”

  Fear on Bostwick’s face and in his voice, he asked, “Where?”

  “No bearing, Captain,” then Brent ordered, “Ahead flank, left full rudder. Torpedo’s gotta be coming from the target. There it is on the AIR, sir. I’m launching a countermeasure. Torpedo Room, flood and release ETC (Electronic Torpedo Countermeasure).”

  A minute after Brent’s assessment Sonar’s report came. “Inbound torpedo, Conn, bearing three-five-five.”

  Brent advised, “Captain, we’ve gotta go deep enough to suppress cavitation at evasion speed. About a hundred above test will do it.”

  Bostwick repeated the order to Chief Cunningham who quickly executed it. Denver’s hull nudged downward and rolled slightly away from the turn as the ship accelerated to maximum speed.

  The Torpedo Room watch reported, “ETC away.”

  Brent had taken charge even though not on watch and ordered the helmsman, “Steady two-seven-zero.”

  This angered Bostwick, but fear kept him from overruling his young nemesis.

  The helmsman’s voice cracked slightly, showing an edge of fear as he repeated, “Two-seven-zero, aye,” and not alone among the crew, grateful knowing that Mr. Maddock had taken the reins.

  Brent demanded, “Bearing to the inbound.”

  Sonar responded, “Zero-zero-five.”

  Forcing a relief sound into his voice, Brent said, “We’re gaining bearing on it. It hears the ETC and is heading that way.”

  Bostwick finally spoke. “Classification on the unit, Sonar.”

  “We’re working it, sir.”

  Brent wanted to know the target’s maneuver and how it avoided the ADCAP. Noise from the inbound torpedo masked the Alfa and made it impossible to assess the tactical situation. The Soviet weapon grew closer and the ping-ping-ping of its active search could now be heard. Stern faces stared at the AIR display. Abruptly, the interval between pings shortened.

  Dan Patrick exclaimed, “Oh shit! It’s acquired us!”

  With an emphatic tone, Brent declared, “No! Too far away. It acquired the ETC and attacking there.”

  Bostwick demanded, “You sure?”

  Brent thought, What the hell difference does it make if I’m wrong? We’re dead if it gets us and there’s nothing we can do about it anyway. Brent considered this a good time to let Bostwick resume charge and save some face. Get him involved. “Captain, recommend ride the cavitation curve to one fifty feet, sir. We’ve got a strong thermal layer at two hundred. Suggest we put it between us and the weapon.”

  The captain ordered, “Make your depth at one-five-zero, chief. Ahead two thirds.”

  “Need a bearing to the target and our ADCAP when we can get it, Captain. Should be around zero-one-five.”

  This time, Bostwick did not respond.

  The Sonar operator announced, “Best make on the unit is an ET-80 A. Getting fainter.”

  All in the Attack Center breathed a sigh of relief. Perspiration soaked the backs of patrol shirts and glistened on each brow.

  The captain came back with, “Conn, aye, Sonar. Do you still hold the Alfa and our weapon? Should be somewhere to the northwest.”

  Sonar replied, “Standby, Conn.” Twenty seconds passed. “I hear the unit, but no target.”

  The captain acknowledged Sonar’s report.

  Chief Cunningham reported, “One fifty and holding, Captain.”

  “Good,” said Bostwick. “We’ll stay at battle stations while we sneak the hell out of here.”

  He did not intend to look further for the Alfa.

  Later, Dan and Brent discussed the incident privately.

  Dan asked, “What do you figure happened, Brent? I thought we had the bastard cold. How do you think he found us?”

  “He heard our torpedo. He certainly didn’t hear us when he went by his closest point of approach and we were in his baffles when we heard his fish. He used the inbound torpedo as an aim point ’cause he knew it came from us.”

  “But how did he get so quiet? The exec and captain figure we’ve been led down a primrose path here. The Soviets knew we conducted peacetime surveillance and likely used noise augmenters to cover up how quiet they really can be. Now the war’s started, they turn ’em off.”

  “I don’t believe that. Low frequency lines from Soviet boats have always been strongest and augmenters can’t reach down that far. It defies the laws of physics.”

  “Then how do you account for their disappearing like they did? To outrun the ADCAP they should have made enough noise to hear them all the way back in San Diego.”

  “I don’t know what they did, Dan. Somehow, they dodged our Sunday punch. It’s gonna be a long war if we can’t figure out how they did it.”

  Dave Zane greeted his new prospective employee. “Have a seat, Mr. Cameron.”

  “I’m more used to Darby … if that’s okay.”

  Dave sensed the newcomer’s apprehension and set about relieving it. “That’ll be fine, Darby. I’m told you know something about main propulsion reduction gears.”

  While sitting down, Darby nodded and said, “I’ve replaced a few in my time, but I’ll need to do some reading up. Do you have anyone else with experience or do you want me to train the workforce and run the operation?”

  “You’ve keyed onto a major piece of the problem. We lost the documentation at Bremerton. Can you take a stab at it?”

  Darby whistled softly. “I can, but it’ll be reaching way back. Do you have the parts?”

  “They’re on the way. We’re breaking a few rules, but then I guess the Soviets are too.”

  Darby said, “Damn nukes didn’t invent bearings or the Babbitt metal they’re made of. Hell, I’ve replaced a lot of bearings on Jimmy and Fairbanks Morse engines. We can get Babbitt to melt down from diesel locomotives that aren’t running now because they’re the same engines used on our diesel boats. We’ll disconnect Newport’s reduction gears from the main engines so they can be jacked while steaming and then I’ll build and install the bearings. We’ll cull out enough guys from the ones you got here to help work on it. You know we’ll be breaking some rules for doing this without certified people, but what other choice have we got?”

  Dave noted Darby’s memory remained sharp and felt the working details would be equally so. “We know that. Our boss, Commodore Danis, says he’ll bend everything short of risking major damage to the refit facility.”

  “That’s a pretty broad latitude,” Darby said.

  “Danis has a pretty broad charter.”

  Darby would have liked it better if he had the reference manuals so he asked, “Did you try to get documentation from someplace else?”

  Knowing the importance of Darby having some sort of check on his memory, Dave answered, “We’re trying, but all our leads end up in situations similar to Bremerton’s. Maybe some troops in Newport are experienced enough to help you out.”

  “Good idea, Captain Zane. I’ll take anything I can get.”

  Dave winced at the title but hadn’t made peace with Eric, so he let it pass.

  Continuing, Darby added, “Submariners are known to squirrel away a lot of stuff so I’m sure we’ll find some goodies in Newport.”

  “When did you last work on reduction gears?”

  “About five years ago. An opportunity for promotion came up in the weapons inspection area and I’ve been there ever since.”

  “Well, Darby. You’re the only game in town so the job is yours if you want it.”

  “Thanks,” Darby said then his tone grew somber, “but there’s more and I don’t want to start off by blindsiding you.”

  “What’s that?”

  Darby related the problem with Denver’s eject pump a
nd the action by the Civil Service Board dismissing him. He remained quiet after his story and looked at Dave through a grave expression.

  Dave reflected a moment then said, “Darby, there’s no question you did wrong and that won’t be tolerated here. However, you impress me as one who appreciates the importance of this work and will perform it in a conscientious manner. All of us have had our letdowns. Probably the difference between you and the rest of us is that you got caught. I suspect the experience will work to my advantage because it’ll make you more cautious. I’m willing to take the chance. The job’s yours if you want it.”

  “What about Commodore Danis and the submariners? I’m told they won’t let me back aboard their ships again.”

  “Manning this outfit is my responsibility and I’m sure Danis won’t second-guess me. Now for openers, let’s you and me walk down to Newport and get our arms around that repair plan. It’s going to be a bitch.”

  The two men stood. Darby Cameron smiled for the first time since the near sinking of Denver. They shook hands and walked out into the makeshift facility.

  Dutch Meyer explained the plan to build an ASW defense system with bottom-mounted hydrophones to Jim Buchanan. Gerry Carter sat in on the meeting in the Weapons Repair Office.

  Beginning the meeting, Dutch said, “We have already planted a hydrophone and the test results look pretty good. Using a calibrated noise source, we start at the hydrophone then move away from it till we lose the signal. This set of curves shows we covered all approaches against the best they’ve got down to four knots. Below that speed we generate a few gaps, but our overall detect, localize and classify probabilities are above eighty percent for all targets.”

  Jim liked the mustang’s concept and voiced his enthusiasm and support.

  Dutch continued, “Weapon placement is the big problem. We don’t have enough resources to keep a plane on station twenty-four seven. We’d need too many ships to cover the entire area and they’d make enough noise to mask the targets. They’d actually provide a beacon for anyone trying to locate the Pitstop.”