by D. M. Ulmer
Lieutenant Vasiliy Baknov had the Attack Center watch when an excited michman, reported, “Torpedo astern, closing fast!” terror clear in the man’s voice.
Vasiliy ordered, “Ahead full!”
Zhukov’s huge seven bladed propeller bit into the sea and accelerated the giant hull toward its maximum speed of more than forty-two knots.
“Which quarter?”
The michman exclaimed, “Starboard!”
Calmly, Vasiliy ordered, “Left full rudder to course zero-seven-zero, fifteen degrees up, to depth—”
A sharp explosion at the rear of the ship interrupted the order and threw everyone to the deck. The ship’s lighting lost, the crew groped about in darkness. A deafening squeal shattered the customary soft hum of the rotating propeller shaft, telling Vasiliy they had been hit close to the main seal.
He ordered, “Stop engines,” and the noise dissipated as the main propulsion shaft slowed to a halt.
The Blockhouse watch officer reported to the S3A pilot, “Birdman Leader your coordinates grid, zero-four-two-zero for the boomer.”
The sonar operator reported, “Losing contact but he’s not going anywhere. I think we hit him in the screw and he’s shutting down.”
“Boomer away,” crackled the voice of Birdman Leader.
“Okay, get us a good mark, sonar.”
The sonar operator’s excitement mounted as the chase heated. “There it is, sir, mark it!”
The watch officer called, “Leader, boomer two one-one-six Zulu and fourteen. Vector two-one-five, six miles to serpent. Target has stopped. Set Doppler out on the fish.” Removing Doppler from the torpedo acoustic homing equipment enabled it to attack a submarine sitting motionless.
Leader reported, “Roger all, Bottom. Starting the run,” quickly followed by, “Fish on the serpent at two-one-one-eight and thirty-five, Bottom.”
The watch officer ordered, “Watch for the fish, Sonar.”
“Got it, sir, and right on the last serpent position.”
“Another torpedo, Comrade Lieutenant!” screamed the terrified michman, “closing from dead ahead!”
Vasiliy knew they could do nothing. Their best speed would be less than seven knots and to do this would provide a perfect noise source for the weapon to home on. Perhaps the Americans’ lack of confidence in the MK-46 torpedo would be justified. Vasiliy departed the Attack Center for the Sonar compartment in order to gain a better perspective of the tactical situation. He’d nearly pulled his body through the operations compartment watertight door when the second torpedo struck. The concussion slammed the heavy door on Vasiliy’s arm, nearly severing it above the elbow. He fell to the deck and lay motionless.
Sonar reported the MK-46 Torpedo warhead explosion, “Got ’em again! Hey, this is some kind of alright.”
Gerry Carter had reached the Blockhouse; confident they had an enemy submarine under attack. A friendly would have surfaced immediately and be screaming his head off.
The watch officer contacted the second S3A to reach the scene, “Birdman Two, a boomer at the mark.”
Two answered, “You got it, Bottom.”
A second MK-46 made its way toward the champion Soviet Akula, its lucky streak ended by the Meyer-Buchanan one-two punch.
Shock from the third explosion silenced Zhukov’s steam turbine driven generators, leaving only limited capacity storage batteries to supply ship’s power.
“Flood auxiliaries,” ordered Sherensky. He knew his ship could no longer function. He bet all on a desperate gamble to perhaps save a few of the crew. “We will sit on the bottom, where maybe the torpedoes cannot find us. When things grow quiet, we will float up to the surface and abandon ship.”
The zampolit screamed at Sherensky, “You will surrender this brave ship? Disobey orders and abort our mission? Get hold of yourself, Comrade Captain. Don’t make it necessary for me to take command and finish the mission myself. This will be reported.”
Sherensky looked at Poplavich through a disgusted expression. “Comrade Zampolit. You are an idiot.”
Bottoming Zhukov spared her further torpedo hits. As Sherensky had predicted, things quieted and the victorious American aviators withdrew. Hours passed and soon loss of the submarine’s atmosphere control equipment left all hands struggling for breath.
The captain gathered the crew in the messing area and explained his plan. “You will assemble beneath the hatches. When you are there, I shall order all the main ballast tanks blown. Be prepared for violent angles. We continue to ship water and have no power to pump it back into the sea. When we reach the surface, open the hatches and leave. Get clear of the ship quickly as you can for she will not remain up there for long. The strong among you must help the injured.”
Scanning the drained faces of the sailors who had served him and Zhukov so well, the captain said, “I am proud to stand among so brave a crew. I wish you all the best of luck. Go to your posts now.”
With the main ballast tanks blown, the bottom released its hold on the stricken submarine. Mercifully, she steadied at a moderate angle as the ship slowly moved toward the surface. When there, as the captain ordered, crewmen opened the deck hatches. Heavy from so much flooding, Zhukov’s hatches failed to clear the surface and a deluge of seawater poured back through them and into the ship. Only a few escaped but had nothing to keep them afloat other than their ability to swim. This small number did not include Sherensky and the zampolit.
Commander Carter would never know his order for Blockhouse to fire against an unknown submarine, resulted in the destruction of the ship responsible for shooting the mighty carrier Savo Island from beneath his F-14 fighter jet.
The MACEDONIAN Flagship, basking in her recent victory, made a triumphant way homeward beneath the summer calmed waves of the northern Pacific. Spirits soared and the crew anticipated a well-deserved respite ashore. Their victory removed the pall of gloom, which hung over their country since the opening of hostilities. Now, in addition to refurbishing Denver, they would take the first small steps toward restoring lives set awry by the war.
Jim Buchanan addressed the commodore and several others in the Denver Wardroom. “Well Commodore, looks like our country might be off the endangered species list. I wonder how the Soviet Naval Staff will explain this one to the Politburo.”
“We did well, Jim. No question about it. But we’re a long way from taking the offensive. We’ve checked them for a time and now the balance of this war will involve only conventional weapons. The Soviets have more forces than us if it goes to a war of attrition and they showed during World War II they’re willing to expend them.”
All officers not on watch sat about the wardroom enjoying a cup of coffee and a break from generating mountains of paper that would comprise a consolidated action report. Reports of success by other MACEDONIAN units continued to flow in via fleet broadcasts, some including short congratulatory messages inserted by the crypto clerks, who bent the rules to do so.
Brent added, “I think no country ever won a war only by defending itself.”
Buchanan replied, “That’s right, Brent. We’ve got to seize the initiative if we expect to win this one.”
“It can be done, sir. We just have to stick to our game plan.”
Captain Buchanan said, “Our game plan depended on the survival of fifteen carrier battle groups, Brent. It’ll be pretty hard to enact it without carriers.”
“I don’t mean that one, Captain. Major wars start with an opening strategy that gives way to the real world when the shooting starts. Always happens that way. Our original plan conceded force levels to the Bloc and rested the Allied case on superior equipment. That part worked. Granted, we had a little luck with the Soviet code bust but we did well in the Bering because our stuff’s better and we used it right.”
The commodore’s face brightened into a warm smile. His long-term hunch about this young officer vindicated protecting him from the barbs of Hal Bostwick. “Our success is due in no small part to your effort
s, Brent. Key to the big win was taking out the southern screen first. Otherwise, we’d have engaged the Northern Fleet while being harassed by their best equipment. Your Sealance tactic gave us the upper hand and nullified the enemy’s ability to strike back.”
Buchanan added, “We owe Brent another one, Commodore. I understand he unscrambled the surfacing tactic the Soviets used to evade. He also advised against making an attack, which would have put them onto what we knew. It cost Denver a scalp for her belt but paid great dividends in the Bering.”
Danis said, “Well you made up for it this time. Four scalps, I believe.”
“Something like that, sir. And just so all this doesn’t go to Lieutenant Maddock’s head, let me bring him back down to deck level. Brent, you’ve got your refit work list and justifications ready for when we hit port? That’s only a week from now.”
Brent took the remark in stride. “Getting on it soon as you and the commodore let me off this paper chase, Captain.”
Buchanan joked, “Let me see. That should take just about, uh—seven days.”
They all laughed.
Determined to have the last word, Brent, said, “Not to worry, Captain. Woody Parnell, ably assisted by straight man Petty Officer Hansen have it just about done. Cribbage, anyone?”
A knock sounded at the wardroom door. Chief Cunningham then entered uninvited followed by a group of enlisted crewmen, an event unprecedented even in the informal atmosphere of a submarine.
The group pushed forward as a radioman handed a clipboard to the commodore. “Message for you, sir.”
Eric Danis took it and read:
TO ALL MACEDONIAN FORCES, FROM THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. YOUR COUNTRYMEN ARE INDEBTED FOR THE VALIANT AND SELFLESS EFFORTS GIVEN IN VICTORIOUS BATTLE DURING THIS CRUCIAL CHAPTER IN OUR REPUBLIC’S HISTORY. FOR REAR ADMIRAL ERIC DANIS, CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR WELL DESERVED PROMOTION. ANDREW J. DEMPSEY.
Chief Cunningham stepped forward and said, “The captain told us something like this might happen, sir, so we took the liberty of making these up for you. They should do till you get ashore and find a proper pair.”
The COB presented Eric with two rear admiral silver-star collar devices fashioned by a gifted auxiliaryman.
Eric Danis took the gift. With just a trace of emotion in his voice, he said, “Thank you, Chief. Thank you very much indeed. I can think of no greater honor than to wear devices of this rank fashioned by a combat submarine crewman. I could find no better pair ashore.”
Although Eric Danis believed his storm had long passed, a vindicating bolt of lightning reached back and struck home.
End
About the Author
D.M. Ulmer
Author D. M. Ulmer enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1947. In two-years, he was promoted to third class electronic technician onboard the submarine USS CLAMAGORE. Six months later, he was advised he’d be transferred to the Naval Academy Prep School. When Ulmer asked his captain “why me?” the skipper replied facetiously, "I don't think you're smart enough to make second class and I need the bunk space!"
Ulmer returned to CLAMAGORE in 1967 as Commanding Officer. He then became one of the few, if not only, to have served in an enlisted status and as commanding officer in the same warship. Captain Ulmer’s 32 year Navy Career included:
1949
German submarine U-2513;
Given to the US Navy in 1945
as partial reparation for WWII.
Mar. – Sept. 1949
USS Clamagore (SS 343).
1954
US Naval Academy graduate.
July 1954 – 55
USS Fremont (APA 44).
July – 55
US Navy Officers’ Submarine School.
Jan. 1956 – June 58
USS Halfbeak (SS 352).
June 1958 – Sept 59
USS Barracuda (SSK1).
1959 – 60
Aide to Commandant
8th Naval District.
July – Oct. 1960
Polaris Weapons School
Dam Neck, VA.
Dec. 1960 – July 62
USS Patrick Henry (SSBN 599).
1963 – 65
Staff, Commander Submarine
Squadron 14.
Nov. 1965 – July 67
Executive Officer
USS Corporal (SS 346).
July 1967 – Mar. 69
Commanding Officer
USS Clamagore (SS 343).
1969 – 72
Office of
Chief of Naval Operations.
1972 –77
Naval Sea Systems Command.
1977 – 79
Trident Project Manager Staff.
April, 1979 – Retired .
Additional Kindle Books
by D.M. Ulmer
Shadows of Heroes
January 1949, early in the undeclared Cold War, the U.S. diesel-electric submarine Kokanee has illegally penetrated deep into Soviet Union waters of the White Sea and is detected by a pair of Russian destroyers. Depth charges fall on Kokanee and seem on the verge of tearing the besieged ship apart. A vindictive Russian captain is determined to eradicate the Americans.
The Cold War Beneath
The story of an event at sea off the New England coast during the post World War II years. Two submarines play a dangerous underwater game of hide and seek in this action thriller as U.S. Navy races try to find out the Russians’ true intentions for being in American waters.
Ensure Plausible Deniability
A tale of the mid-sixties Soviet Navy flexing its muscles throughout the world’s oceans by provoking head-to-head confrontations with U.S. units. Ensuing games of chicken on the surface and beneath the seas between vessels armed with nuclear weapons portended disaster.
It would take only one hotheaded skipper on either side to go off half-cocked and plunge mankind into World War III.
The saga is set in the backdrop of U.S. diesel-electric submarines’ demise to make room for the higher performance nuclear powered submarines. However, the questionable nuclear power program selection criteria disregarded submariner performance excellence and accepted officer applicants solely on academic prowess. This practice may well have portended disaster of its own.
Ensure Plausible Deniability is spiced with first-hand insights into submariner personal and distaff life. Visit www.dmulmer.com for more details about Author D.M. Ulmer
Tea and Crumpet Capers by D.M. Ulmer
Featuring upscale and sophisticated, light stories in the mystery/suspense/thriller genre.
Missing Person
Retired Marine Corps Sgt Maj. Kincaid, turned Associate Professor of English Literature, moonlights as a writer of mystery novels. Approached by a woman fan who misconstrues his literary talent for bona fide detecting skills, she retains him to locate her son missing from her life for twenty years. Kincaid reluctantly accepts and finds himself in a quagmire of intrigue, greed, and murder. The drama is set in Port Angeles, near Washington State’s magnificent Olympic Mountains.
The Roche Harbor Caper
In Washington State’s San Juan Islands, during a weekend visit arranged by Michael Kincaid for his son to become better acquainted with the focal point of Michael’s evolving romance, things go from bad to worse. Kincaid reopens a case with an official finding of accidental death many believed should have been murder. This leads to both Kincaid and his son being caught up in a wild adventure on the high seas.
The Long Beach Caper
Michael Kincaid, a retired Marine Corps Sgt. Major turned English Literature Professor, and his wife Doris, become involved in a caper while on their honeymoon in Long Beach, Washington. Their first day at Long Beach, a stranger recognizes Michael as the author of the Harry Steele detective novel series, introduces himself, then asks Michael to investigate a mundane problem within his family, keeping or disposing of their three generation legacy; the Heinrich Voelcker farm in Idaho.
Count the Ways
> A grand romance in the classic sense. The love between a Naval Academy midshipman and an Iowa farm girl, a Korean War-era tragedy, and the search by a grandson for the mystery surrounding his grandparents’ love story.
Where or When
An absorbing love story which spans the years set in modern-day life of the Pacific Northwest and the closing years of World War I in Europe.
Tour of USS Clamagore DVD
by Brett Kneisly starring D.M. Ulmer
Filmed on location aboard USS Clamagore, a Guppy III diesel-electric submarine moored at Patriots Point, Mount Pleasant, SC. A former Commanding Officer of Clamagore, Captain Don Ulmer, USN Retired, is the tour guide. Video is presented to raise awareness of this Cold War veteran submarine’s pressing need to be moved to dry land for protection and preservation for future generations.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 19