Dangerous Ground jm-1

by Larry Bond

  “Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir,” replied Jerry.

  “Very well, then. How do you justify that number?”

  “There are one hundred sixty-nine EAB manifolds on this boat, and each manifold has four connections. That makes for a total of six hundred seventy-six connections in the EAB system itself. However, assuming a normal complement of one hundred thirty men and a one hundred and forty percent load out of EAB masks, and each mask has a connection on it, that gives another one hundred and eighty-two. This brings the grand total to eight hundred fifty-eight connections, sir.”

  “Am I to understand that you’ve personally counted each and every EAB mask?” pressed Young.

  “No, sir. I looked up the EAB loadout in the ship’s data book and then asked the DCA what Memphis had on his last inventory. He said he didn’t remember the exact number, but he was very confident we had at least that many masks on board, he thought we might even have a few extra as well. I never verified the actual number, hence my answer of approximately eight hundred sixty.”

  Jerry felt strangely calm after his little dissertation to the commodore, who simply sat there and looked at him. Silently, Jerry thanked Chief Gilson for being so thorough during his damage control checkout. While a long and painful ordeal, with numerous lookups that Jerry had to answer afterward, he now knew his DC equipment cold and that little extra detail on the EAB connections had just come in very handy.

  A slight smile broke out on Young’s face as he said, “I would have been happy with the number of connections on the manifolds, but you are quite correct, Mr. Mitchell. Well done.” Young opened the folder again and quickly wrote a few notes down. Probably something along the lines of “Mr. Mitchell is a smart-ass,” thought Jerry.

  “Umm, sir, you mentioned another topic?” asked Jerry, trying to move the interview to a rapid conclusion.

  “Yes, yes, I did,” replied Young as he closed the folder. “We have one more drill to run, a battle stations torpedo drill, and I’m going to need your help in conducting the exercise. How much time do you need to prepare the Manta for launch?”

  “About thirty minutes, sir. May I ask what you want me to do?”

  “I want you to pilot the Manta as a hostile submarine in a mock attack against Memphis.” answered Young.

  Jerry felt a cold sweat forming on his forehead. “Y-you, you want me to fight against the Captain and the rest of my crew?”

  “Not exactly, Lieutenant. One of my staff will tell you what to do. I just need you to guide the Manta accordingly.”

  I am royally screwed, thought Jerry. Hardy won’t bother with the commodore’s little distinction if Memphis does badly during the drill — the CO would place the fault squarely on him and would chew on his butt all the way back to New London. And with a staff rider looking over his shoulder the whole time, Jerry couldn’t intentionally make it easier for his crew. Frantically, Jerry tried to think of a way out of this dilemma.

  “Sir, I must inform you that I’ve never flown the prototype off of Memphis. I have lots of simulator time and some hours with the smaller prototype at Newport, but none with the UUV we are carrying right now.”

  “Yes, I was aware of that,” responded Young. “All the more reason to conduct this exercise, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Jerry desperately wanted to say, “Hell no, sir!” but he couldn’t say that to the man who was sending a progress report on him to those reluctant flag officers. Besides, his Navy training had drilled into him that there was only one correct answer.

  “Yes, sir. When do you want to launch?” Jerry tried to sound more confident than he felt. And right now he felt like a trapped animal, with nowhere to go.

  “Excellent!” exclaimed Young jubilantly. “Report to the torpedo room in fifteen minutes. Lieutenant Commander Monroe will meet you there. And Mr. Mitchell, not a word to any other member of your crew.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said Jerry as he stood up and left the wardroom.

  Once he was out in the passageway, Jerry leaned up against the bulkhead and tried to reduce the knot he felt in his gut. He really wanted to talk to Lenny. He needed Berg’s unique insight to help him with this one, but he was under explicit orders not to speak to anyone about the drill. Fearing that his resolve wouldn’t hold up if he returned to his stateroom, Jerry headed aft toward the torpedo room.

  Breaking out into almost a jog, Jerry reached the torpedo room quickly and immediately sought out the duty watchstander. He found TM2 Boyd at the weapons launching console, making his quarterly hour log entries.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” said Boyd, greeting his division officer. “Is there something I can do for your”

  “Yes, Petty Officer Boyd, I have a question. Who would man the Manta launch stations during this watch?”

  “The offgoing torpedo room and fire-control watchstanders would normally do that. That would be Greer and Davidson. Do you want me to find them, sir?”

  “Yes, please. I need them here in ten minutes,” replied Jerry somewhat nervously.

  “Anything wrong, sir?” inquired Boyd. “You don’t look so good.”

  “I’ll be all right, but thanks for asking. Just ask the Chief of the Watch to get them here ASAP.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” nodded Boyd, who picked up the sound-powered phone handset and called control.

  Jerry went back to the Manta control area, lifted up the Naugahyde cover, and powered up the control console. After the initial system diagnostics were completed, Jerry started a full system check. As expected, the ten-minute automatic test showed no problems. Jerry logged the time of the check and the results and then waited for Lieutenant Commander Monroe to show up.

  Soon thereafter, Greer and Davidson appeared over by the starboard tube nest. Jerry called and waved for them to come back to the control console, informed them of the impending launch, and then told them to be ready to assume their stations.

  Both were curious as to what was going to happen and asked some legitimate questions. Jerry responded that he wasn’t at liberty to discuss it, but that all would be clear soon. This only made the two even more curious, and they peppered him with even more questions. Jerry was about to order the two of them to shut up when he saw a squadron staffer walk into the torpedo room. Motioning for Greer and Davidson to hush, Jerry pointed to the lieutenant commander who was approaching them.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Mitchell. I’m Lieutenant Commander Andy Monroe. Are you ready to launch the Manta?”

  Doesn’t waste any time, does he? Jerry thought. Well, I can deal with that. “Yes, sir. We’re ready, any time you want. My team is assembled and I’ve already performed the preflight maintenance check.” Jerry then pointed to the two petty officers and said, “This is TM2 Greer and FT2 Davidson. They will be assisting me during the launch and recovery.”

  “Very good,” said Monroe as he shook their hands. “I’ll inform the commodore that we are ready to begin.” Picking up the phone, Monroe called control. While Monroe was busy talking to the commodore, Jerry sent Greer aft to the engine room to monitor the mechanical indications of the launch process and to use the manual overrides if a problem arose. Davidson sat down next to Jerry and would assist him at the control console and be Jerry’s communications link with Greer. Jerry put on his own communications headset, a high-tech version of the bulky sound-powered phone set, and waited for control to come on the line.

  “Man Manta launch stations,” squawked the IMC. Soon thereafter, Jerry heard the Chief of the Watch announce on the sound-powered phones, “All stations, control, control on the line.”

  “Control, U-bay. U-bay on the line,” responded Jerry.

  “U-bay?” asked Monroe with a puzzled look on his face.

  “We had to call it something, sir,” said Jerry defensively. “And we couldn’t use Manta control or UUV control; that would be too confusing. So we called it U-bay, you know like e-bay, only it means UUV bay.”

  “Yeah, right. Whatever,” said Monroe, who didn’t loo
ked impressed. “How long before the nav system is aligned and ready to go?”

  “It’s ready now, sir,” replied Jerry. “The Manta uses a strapdown ring-laser gyro for the inertial navigation system.”

  “Very well. Proceed with the launch.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Jerry reached over and picked up a small yellow binder with all the Manta procedures in it. He opened the laminated pages to the launch section. Using a grease pencil, Jerry and Davidson went down the procedure one step and a time and marked off each step as it was accomplished.

  “Control, U-bay. Request ship’s speed be reduced to four knots,” said Jerry.

  “Request ship’s speed be reduced to four knots. Control aye.”

  Knowing that it would take a little while for Memphis to drop to the launch speed, Jerry continued with the checklist.

  “Retracting battery umbilical cable,” announced Jerry as he pushed the button on the touch screen. The display paused for a moment and then indicated that the cable had been detached from the Manta and stowed in the docking structure.

  “Engine room upper level reports the umbilical has been retracted and stowed,” stated Davidson.

  “Very well. Flooding docking skirt and equalizing to sea pressure,” said Jerry as he activated several of the onscreen controls. A few moments later, Davidson reported, “Engine room upper level reports the docking skirt flooded and equalized to sea pressure.”

  Jerry acknowledged the report and looked over his shoulder toward Monroe, “Sir, where do you want the Manta to go after launch?”

  “Have the Manta assume station five hundred yards off the starboard quarter after launch. However, during the exercise, you’ll pilot the vehicle directly. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir. I understand completely,” Jerry replied. Davidson looked at his division officer with a puzzled expression. It was unusual for someone to manually pilot the Manta; its whole design was predicated on operating largely without continuous human guidance. Jerry saw the questioning look on Davidson’s face and motioned for him to stay on the checklist.

  “U-bay, control. Ship’s speed is now four knots,” said the Chief of the Watch.

  “Very well, control.” Jerry leaned over and looked at the checklist Davidson was holding and saw that there was only one step left. “Control, U-bay. Request permission to launch the Manta.”

  “Request permission to launch the Manta. Control aye.” Jerry waited only a few moments before the Chief of the Watch passed on the Captain’s approval, “U-bay, control. Permission granted to launch the Manta.”

  “Very well, control.” Jerry detached the docking latches and then pushed the LAUNCH button. The rest of the launching sequence was done automatically by the Manta’s programming.

  “Engine room upper level reports the docking latches have detached and the Manta has lifted off the docking skirt,” said Davidson.

  Jerry nodded as the telemetry update from the Manta through the acoustic modem was coming in strong. He watched closely as the UUV’s position on the display moved away from Memphis. Everything seemed to be working fine and after a minute, the Manta had assumed its position on Memphis’ starboard quarter. Turning to LCDR Monroe, Jerry reported, “Sir, Manta on station and ready to maneuver.”

  “Very well,” replied Monroe. Taking his clipboard, Monroe recorded Memphis’ course and speed on a miniature maneuvering board-plotting sheet. He then drew a couple of lines, pulled out a pocket ruler and measured something. Satisfied with his results, Monroe looked at Jerry and said, “Mr. Mitchell, I want you to send the Manta five thousand yards dead astern of Memphis. I trust the acoustic modem will allow that?”

  “Yes, sir, easily. Depending on the acoustic conditions, we could have three times that range.”

  “Excellent. Once the Manta reaches that position, turn it around and match Memphis’ course and speed. I’ll give you the next leg at that time.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” replied Jerry as he typed in the new position and the necessary course and speed. The Manta peeled off to the right and headed directly away from Memphis at ten knots. He also noticed that the boat had started to increase speed again and was at six knots. Probably going back to a normal one-third bell, or about seven knots, thought Jerry. Doing some quick math in his head, Jerry figured out about how long it would take for the Manta to reach the end of the first leg. “Commander Monroe, it will take a little less than ten minutes for the Manta to reach the designated location.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mitchell” was all Jerry received in response. The next nine minutes passed by in silence as Jerry watched the navigation screen on the control console display.

  “Sir, the Manta is five thousand yards astern on course zero four zero degrees, speed seven knots,” reported Jerry.

  “Very well,” responded Monroe. “Mr. Mitchell, the second leg is another five thousand yards perpendicular to the present course. Have the Manta steer course one three zero degrees at ten knots. And while you are at it, how long till the Manta reaches the end of the second leg?”

  With perpendicular courses, thought Jerry, only the Manta’s speed mattered. Again, after a little mental gymnastics, he came up with the answer. “Fifteen minutes, sir.”

  “Correct. And that’s when we get to the good part.”

  “Sir, may I ask what we are supposed to be doing during this drill?” asked an unbearably curious Davidson. “I don’t have a clue as to what is going on.”

  “Certainly, Petty Officer Davidson. You and Lieutenant Mitchell here are the faithful crew of my Russian nuclear-powered attack submarine. Mr. Mitchell is my helmsman and you are my sonar shack. Together we are going to make a mock attack on Memphis, using the Manta.”

  “Well, this should be quick,” said Davidson sarcastically. “With a TB-29 towed array, Memphis will make short work of us. The Manta ain’t that quiet.”

  “Do not lose heart, comrade,” answered Monroe in a dreadful Russian accent. “Saint Nicholas — or is it Saint Andrew? Oh well, whomever it is, he will protect us and Mother Russia from those imperialists.”

  “Huh, sir? I don’t get it.”

  “Okay, let me be a little more clear. The commodore has already ordered your captain to stow both the TB-16 and TB-29 tails. Because you guys are going into really shallow water on your next run, you won’t be able to use the towed arrays. So the commodore wants to see how the crew performs against a quiet target with hull arrays only.”

  “No shit, sir?” exclaimed Davidson, now considerably more interested. “Er, excuse me. You mean we get to hose over the old man, er, I mean the Captain? Kewl!”

  “That’s the spirit,” replied Monroe more pleasantly.

  Jerry just sat there and contemplated what was about to become his worst nightmare. Without the towed arrays, the Manta at slow speed would be a very difficult target to detect. This meant there was a good chance that LCDR Monroe would be able to take on Captain Hardy and win. The prospect filled Jerry with dread.

  “Comrades, if I can have your attention please,” said Monroe as he tapped Jerry’s shoulder, bringing him out of his trancelike state. “The battle plan is as follows: We’ve intentionally sent the Manta down the hull array’s baffles so the sonar girls wouldn’t be able to cheat while we positioned the vehicle for the exercise. So now they only know that the Manta will come at them from abaft the beam. That’s still a lot of territory to keep under observation, which helps to make the exercise more realistic. We’ve also muddied the water a little more by taking a long time before things get interesting. It’s going to be an hour before Memphis’ sonar shack will even get a whiff of the Manta. This should help reduce the ‘alerted operator syndrome,’ since the sonar operators will have had time for the adrenaline to wear off.”

  The more Jerry listened, the more he had to admire Monroe’s plan. It was brilliant, devious, and would certainly stress the sonar shack’s operators to no end. Jerry wondered if Monroe would spot the operator’s a few decibels in red
uced performance due to increased system self-noise. Hardy would almost certainly be in the shack yelling at the sonar supervisor to find him his target. Jerry watched Davidson as he became more excited as the plan was explained to him. The very idea of beating the Captain at his own game was an incredibly motivating concept for the young torpedoman’s mate.

  “Now, after we gain contact,” Monroe continued, “I want you to drive the Manta right across Memphis’ stern and generate a closest point of approach, a CPA. We probably won’t detect her at long range, so this maneuver should allow us to generate a good fire-control solution. I want you to travel about one thousand yards past the CPA and then turn in the direction of the target and match the target’s course and speed based on the solution. Since the target will be ahead of us and will be going in the same general direction, there is almost no chance of a collision with this maneuver. Do you think you can do that?”

  Jerry thought for a moment and said, “Let me see if I have this straight, sir. You want me to cross astern of the target like this—” Jerry used his hands to show the relative positions of the Manta and Memphis—”go one thousand yards, then turn toward Memphis and match her course and speed. I then maintain that relative position so that we stay at about a constant range from the target, right?

  “Precisely, Mr. Mitchell!” said Monroe enthusiastically. “You now have a fair understanding of Russian submarine target motion analysis tactics.”

  “Thank you, sir. But to be honest, I’ve heard about it before. What you’ve described is also a basic fighter maneuver called ‘lag pursuit.’ And I know how to execute that maneuver,” responded Jerry confidently.

  “Very good!” replied Monroe. “Ahhh, I see that the Manta is just about at the start position. Let’s have some fun now, shall we?”

  Jerry looked at the navigation display and saw that the Manta had less than one hundred yards to go. Jerry punched the manual control button and tested the joystick. The controls seemed to be sluggish. Remember, be light on the stick, Jerry thought to himself. With the Manta that far away, it would take about five seconds for the maneuvering commands to reach the vehicle and another five seconds before he would be able to see any results on his displays. After verifying that everything seemed to be operating normally, Jerry reported. “Sir, the test of the Manta’s manual controls has been completed satisfactorily. Oh, and while I don’t disagree with anything you’ve said about the low probability of a collision, Just to be safe, I’d like to start the Manta off with a one-hundred-foot depth separation.”