Submarine Warriors: The Enemy Beneath

by Rob Tiffany

  “I’m losing patience with you, Admiral!” The President yelled into the phone. “The sub doesn’t drive by itself. We’re facing the largest threat to national security since the Cuban missile crisis and you’ve basically got nothing for me. Please tell me you have the situation in hand and the submarine is contained in the canal.”

  “Actually, sir, the Alaska just made it through the Hood Canal Bridge,” Admiral Cunningham’s voice trembled.

  “You’re relieved of duty.” The President slammed down the phone. “Get me the Joint Chiefs; I’m headed to the Situation Room.”

  Chapter 5 > The Chase

  Hood Canal, Washington

  The Alaska made its way out of the Hood Canal and entered the Strait of Juan de Fuca. A large and deep body of water, this gave the submarine more room to maneuver.

  “Helm, come left to bearing two-seven-zero,” Admiral Connery ordered. “We’re headed west to the Pacific to find my son and your dads.”

  “Coming left to bearing two-seven-zero, helm aye,” replied Annie.

  “Have we left all the trouble behind us, Granddad?” Caroline asked.

  “Caroline, I have a feeling that most of our troubles lie ahead.” The Admiral put his arms around his granddaughter. “Envisioning the completed mission, relying on your training, following a plan, and maintaining a positive mental attitude are the keys to success for a sailor.”

  “How do I envision a completed mission if I haven’t completed it yet?” Mike asked. “Just close your eyes and see yourself with your father after you’ve rescued him,” replied the Admiral. “Never let go of that vision.”

  Seattle, Washington

  Word of what was happening on the Olympic Peninsula was spreading fast. Two news helicopters lifted off from the rooftops of towers in downtown Seattle and made their way across the Puget Sound.

  The White House

  “Mr. President, now that the Alaska has made it to the open waters of the Strait, I think our best option is to take it out before it can dive into the Pacific beyond our reach,” said an Air Force General, as the other Joint Chiefs entered the room.

  “General, don’t you have even the slightest concern over the repercussions of blowing up a sub containing 24 ICBMs plus a nuclear reactor?” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs asked. “At best, we could have an ecological nightmare that would make the BP oil spill in the Gulf look like spilled milk! At worst, we could have an atomic explosion in US waters.”

  “Mr. Chairman, I understand your concerns, but we’ve got to find a way to stop this thing,” the President said urgently. “It’s not moving very fast, but it’s made of some amazingly tough steel and we can’t get inside of it to take control.”

  “What if we used a low-yield, laser-guided bomb and targeted just the bow of the sub?” a four-star Admiral spoke-up.

  “The sonar dome?” asked the President.

  “That’s right, Mr. President,” the Admiral replied. “We could deploy a SEAL team in a combat rubber raiding craft that could paint the sonar dome with a laser. One of our fighter-bombers could target just that part of the sub, away from the reactor and the nukes.”

  “I’m listening.” The President leaned forward across the table.

  “The Alaska would slowly flood from the front and begin to sink nose-first,” the Admiral continued. “The ICBMs wouldn’t explode and the reactor wouldn’t flood since it’s protected by water-tight doors. Additionally, the reactor would scram and automatically drop the control rods once the downward pitch becomes too steep.”

  “The Strait of Juan de Fuca is a heck of a lot shallower than the Pacific Ocean,” a Homeland Security official added. “We could dispatch ships, equipment and DSRVs to search for survivors and then raise the Alaska to the surface.”

  “I don’t think it would come to that.” The Chairman jumped in. “I’m sure the minute that boat starts taking on water, they’ll cut their engines and escape hatches will start popping open. The SEALs on the scene could board the Alaska, take out the hostiles and secure enough watertight doors to stop the flooding.”

  “What if they don’t pop the hatches?” the Marine Commandant queried.

  “Then we’ll do it the hard way and let the Alaska sink to the bottom,” replied the Chairman. “Divers could come in later with underwater blow torches and cut their way through the hull.”

  “I’m sold,” the President exclaimed. “It’s not pretty, but we don’t have a lot of time. Admiral, get SEALs in the water and launch the fighter-bombers from the Naval Air Station on Whidbey Island.”

  “Very good, sir,” replied the Admiral.

  Strait of Juan de Fuca

  The news helicopters from the KING 5 and KOMO 4 television stations tracked the giant submarine from the air as it passed next to Dungeness Spit.

  “Get cameras rolling,” the producer yelled to the cameraman over the sound of the helicopter rotors. “I haven’t seen a slow-motion chase like this since I followed O.J. down the San Diego freeway.”

  “No one got a Pulitzer Prize for covering O.J.,” the cameraman called back.

  “This is much bigger!” the producer shouted. “Big like when Captain Kirk stole the Enterprise to rescue Spock.”

  “Dude, your whole life is a movie,” the cameraman replied with a laugh. “Position the satellite dish and let’s start sending this home so our boss won’t think we’re on a wild goose chase.”

  Within minutes, the video of the fleeing submarine began streaming back to television stations in Seattle. Upon seeing what was going on, station managers interrupted their regularly scheduled programming with a breaking story and team coverage. The story quickly went viral and images of a submarine being chased by boats and helicopters were beamed to TVs, computer monitors, smartphones and iPads all around the world in vivid HD 1080p.

  Poulsbo, Washington

  Sitting at home watching the news, Caroline’s mom saw the waterborne chase and immediately picked up her Windows Phone to text her daughter.

  “CAROLINE, IT’S MOM. UR ON TV”

  USS Alaska

  “Hey everyone, we’re on TV!” Caroline yelled throughout the control room after reading the text. “Helicopters are directly above us with video cameras. Is there a TV we can turn on around here?”

  With that, a Yeoman began to run throughout the sub turning on every TV he could find. When Caroline changed the channels on the TV in the Control room, she saw the same images of their submarine that the rest of the world was seeing. The breaking news crawler inching across the bottom of the screen turned her blood cold.

  “…U.S. SUBMARINE HIJACKED BY TERRORISTS…”

  “But we’re not terrorists,” Caroline protested, as she looked at her grandfather.

  “Obviously, neither the Navy nor the President believes we have anything to do with this,” commented Admiral Connery. “If they think terrorists are behind this, I expect the military will come at us with everything they’ve got.”

  Naval Air Station, Whidbey Island

  “You’re all clear for takeoff,” said a voice from the control tower.

  “Roger that,” replied the pilot.

  With that, the F/A-18 Super Hornet ignited its afterburners and screamed down the runway, blue flames shooting out from its twin engine exhausts.

  “I’m going supersonic and should arrive at the submarine’s coordinates in ten minutes.” The pilot spoke to the air boss in the control tower.

  USS Alaska

  As the Alaska continued its westerly course through the strait, many of the kids and crew couldn’t help but watch the unfolding action on the TVs throughout the ship.

  “I wish we could go faster,” Mike sighed as he watched his sub on the overhead monitor.

  “A Trident submarine isn’t exactly a cigarette boat,” Admiral Connery spoke, looking over at Mike. “She’s designed to perform at her best underwater.”

  “I’m not sure what a cigarette has to do with a boat, but that small, black rubber boat o
n the TV sure is moving fast and looks like it’s about to catch us,” remarked Mike.

  Admiral Connery peered into the periscope and rotated it to the starboard side. A speeding boat with several men onboard came into view.

  “Good observation, Mike,” the Admiral commented without looking away from the periscope. “That boat is a combat rubber raiding craft, so I can only assume that the men holding machine guns are SEALs. I wonder what they’re up to?”

  F/A-18 Super Hornet

  “Patch me through to the SEALs on the water,” the pilot ordered through his mask.

  “Patching you through,” replied the air boss.

  “Special forces, do you read me?” asked the pilot.

  “We read you,” answered a Lieutenant on the speeding boat. “What is your ETA to our location?”

  “I’ll be in range in five minutes. Begin lasing the target now,” the pilot ordered.

  “Roger that,” replied the SEAL Lieutenant. “We’ll paint you a nice big target on the sonar dome for your precision ordinance.”

  “Make sure you’re a safe distance away,” the Pilot added. “I don’t want to see any mention of friendly fire on my next fitness report.”

  “Nice,” remarked the Lieutenant. “I’m turning the laser on now.”

  USS Alaska

  “What’s that red light beaming at us, Granddad?” Caroline asked as she watched the television.

  Through the periscope, the Admiral could clearly see the SEALs painting a target on the bow of the sub.

  “Change of plans everyone,” Admiral Connery remarked intensely. “Those SEALs are targeting our sonar dome for a laser-guided bomb. That means we’re just moments away from being attacked by incoming aircraft. We’re no longer safe on the surface.”

  “Diving Officer, Emergency Deep!” The Admiral shouted to Caroline.

  “Emergency Deep? We didn’t learn about that in the trainer this morning!” Caroline panicked.

  “It means dive the ship as fast as you can,” barked the Admiral. “Mike, open the vents to let out the air and fill the tanks with seawater. Chrissie, I need you to push your yoke all the way down to give us a full downward angle on the stern planes. Annie, once the sail is submerged, I want full down on the fairwater planes, too.”

  The Admiral picked up his microphone and announced, “Dive, Dive, Dive,” on the 1MC. He then sounded the klaxon, which made an annoying sound that the kids had only heard previously in movies.

  A large spray of air and water shot up from the deck of the Alaska as she slowly began to slip beneath the waves.

  “We’re not sinking fast enough,” the Admiral groaned.

  SEAL Team

  “They’re submerging!” The SEAL Petty Officer holding the laser yelled out to the Lieutenant.

  “Keep the sonar dome painted as long as you can,” the Lieutenant ordered frantically.

  The SEAL team could hear the thundering sound of incoming fighter jet as it approached their position.

  “The bomb is going to be here any second now,” the Lieutenant pronounced loudly. “Keep it painted.”

  “The sonar dome is almost completely under water,” cried out the Petty Officer. “Call off the bomber.”

  “Too late,” the Lieutenant replied, as the two of them heard the familiar whistling sound of the falling bomb.

  The laser was no longer painting the sub but was instead pointing at the surface of the water. The reflection caused by the churning waves resulted in the laser-guided bomb making erratic course corrections as it fell through the atmosphere. These course corrections pushed it closer and closer to the boat the SEALs were on. Recognizing this, the SEAL Petty Officer switched off the laser and the bomb splashed harmlessly into the water about one hundred yards from their boat.

  The F/A-18 Super Hornet dove towards the submerging Alaska and fired its 50 caliber guns angrily while the sail disappeared beneath the surface.

  USS Alaska

  The kids put their hands over their ears and screamed as the fighter jet strafed the Alaska from above. The impact of high-caliber bullets striking the hull of the sub sounded like the most terrifying hailstorm anyone could imagine. Fortunately, the bullets were harmless to the thick, double-hulled, Leviathan. In another minute, the sound of the attacking jet faded as the sub sank deeper into the strait.

  “Diving Officer, make your depth two hundred feet,” the Admiral ordered.

  “Make my depth two hundred feet, aye,” replied Caroline. “Can we really go that deep in here?”

  “Some parts of the strait are nine hundred feet deep,” responded the Admiral. “Our downward-facing, high-frequency sonar will let us know how much wiggle-room we have between the keel and the ocean floor.”

  In the sky above, the hovering news helicopters banked to the southeast and headed back to Seattle. Everything that had transpired was now streaming to the rest of the world. Underwater where it was less vulnerable, the submarine silently accelerated at flank speed away from the danger.

  “I sure am glad we didn’t steal a destroyer or some other surface ship,” Annie said to the Admiral. “We’d be sitting ducks.”

  “You’re going to make a great submariner,” said Admiral Connery with a grin.

  The White House

  Back in the Situation Room, a messenger handed a piece of paper to the President.

  “We’ve lost the sub.” The President read the message out loud. “Damn it! How could this have happened?”

  “There’s more, sir.” The messenger spoke quietly. “I’ve got the Russian President waiting to speak to you on a secure line.”

  The President put the phone to his ear. “Yes, Dmitry?”

  “I’ve been watching the news on TV and I understand you’ve lost one of your ballistic missile submarines,” the Russian President stated flatly. “Would you like our assistance in finding her?”

  “It sounds to me like you’ve been watching ‘The Hunt for Red October,’ and not the news,” the President retorted.

  “The irony didn’t escape me,” replied the Russian President. “We would’ve tried much harder to sink the sub if it had been one of ours. And we wouldn’t have allowed a spectacle like this to be captured and broadcast for all to see on television. We will have no choice but to put our military on high alert and raise our defense posture immediately.”

  “I assure you, we’ll get her back,” the President responded, hanging up the phone.

  He turned to face the rest of the Joint Chiefs.

  “This has gotten way too out of hand for half-measures anymore. I’m ordering you to dispatch the entire Pacific fleet, if necessary, to hunt down and sink the Alaska. A Trident submarine with enough firepower to destroy China has been stolen and has now left US waters.”

  “Take us to DEFCON One.”

  Chapter 6 > Finding their Fathers

  Defense Condition One represents the American military’s highest level of alert, putting bombers in the air, getting troops ready to deploy, and preparing the land and sea-based nuclear arsenal for launch toward their target packages.

  The United States has never found itself at DEFCON ONE…until now!

  West coast naval stations in San Diego, Pearl Harbor, Everett, Bremerton, and Bangor received urgent messages to recall their sailors in preparation for heading out to sea to hunt down the rogue submarine.

  USS Alaska

  After an hour of running shallow at 200 feet, the Alaska finally left behind the Strait of Juan de Fuca and entered the Pacific Ocean. At such a shallow depth and high rate of speed, US Naval forces would be able to track it with ease.

  “It’s time to turn this sub into a black hole in the water,” Admiral Connery announced. “I’m sure every ship and sub within a thousand nautical miles has been contacted by the Commander of the Pacific Fleet and is now making best speed toward our location. Dive, make your depth 800 feet, zero bubble.”

  “Make my depth 800 feet, zero bubble, aye,” replied Caroline. “Take her down
nice and easy.”

  Annie pushed on the yoke ever so gently and the Trident began its smooth descent to 800 feet below the surface.

  “Mind your planes,” Caroline said curtly to Chrissie as the sub began to angle downward. “Keep us level.”

  “I got this,” Chrissie snapped. “Stop telling me what to do!”

  “I’m doing my job, Chrissie.” Caroline walked around to face her. “You need to get used to this whole military chain of command thing if we want to succeed as a team. The Officer of the Deck tells me what to do and I tell you what to do. It’s not personal.”

  Naval Undersea Warfare Center

  The Marine Humvee carrying Mike’s and Chrissie’s moms arrived in Keyport, Washington, at the main gate of the Naval Undersea Warfare Center. After being waved through, the vehicle made its way to the base brig. Exiting the Humvee, Ashley and Michelle were led inside to a makeshift interrogation room. The Marines forced them to sit down on two metal chairs and handcuffed them to the legs of a table that was bolted to the floor.

  “Welcome to Torpedo Town, USA, ladies,” sneered a dark-suited man, wearing dark sunglasses.

  “You don’t look like someone from the Navy.” Michelle spoke up.

  “That’s okay, you don’t look like terrorists or spies from a hostile government,” the man retorted. “That doesn’t mean you’re not.”

  “Are you from the CIA?” asked Ashley.

  “No, NCIS,” the man replied. “Based on the sound of your voices, I can deduce that you were born and raised on American soil; that tells me you’re part of a sleeper cell that’s been operating in this country since at least the 1960s. Because that predates the Jihad against America, I can only assume that you’re of the Cold War variety. I’m surprised you didn’t return to Rodina back in the 90s.”