by Larry Bond
Jerry tracked its progress in the back of his mind, and not all that far back. It stood to reason that the Russians wouldn’t station the Udaloy in the sonobuoy field, but along its western edge. Thus, if the bearing changed from due north to due east, it would be reasonable to assume that they’d reached the edge of the field.
Every piece of equipment not needed for the safety of the boat was shut down, from pumps to fans to microwave ovens. Ho’s engineers moved silently through the engine room, making sure that every piece of gear ran as smoothly and at as low a setting as possible. Everyone on board thought hard before he spoke, and even harder before he moved.
* * *
When the bearing to the Udaloy slid from north to northeast, Jerry called it the halfway point. He didn’t know where they were on the chart, but he was sure Hardy’s detour was as close to a straight line as the terrain allowed. Of course, they were also as close to Novaya Zemlya as they were going to get; O’Connell said the island was six miles due west. If the Russians had a ship waiting for them, this was their best chance to catch Memphis. From here on out, the distance between the island and the Udaloy would start to increase. Fortunately, Hardy’s hunch had been right. The path was clear.
It had taken three hours for them to put the destroyer to the northeast. The last forty-five degrees seemed to take forever and Jerry was thankful for every course change and every potential outcropping of rock. He stopped paying attention to the clock and just listened to O’Connell’s updates.
Then the bottom suddenly dropped out, literally, as Jerry watched the water depth jump from one hundred and fifty-four feet to over seven hundred in a matter of seconds. The Udaloy lay to the east-northeast, at zero seven zero, when what looked like a deep trench turned out to be a series of steep hills.
“The Captain says to stay at your present depth! He doesn’t want to have to dodge those peaks,” O’Connell relayed. “We’re not in active sonar range of the Udaloy, so there is no need to risk a collision. Come to course three zero zero.”
“Changing course to three zero zero, U-bay aye,” Jerry acknowledged. His job got simpler, since Memphis’ new course took them between the hills. Jerry and O’Connell continued to compare notes on their individual interpretations of the Manta’s sonar display over the circuit. From the sound of it, O’Connell was furiously trying to update the charts as they slowly made their way out. Jerry wondered if he liked playing cartographer.
Finally, after nearly thirteen hours of hair-raising flying, O’Connell passed a welcome report. “U-bay, conn, bearing to the destroyer is now one zero five.”
Jerry had become so focused on navigating that for a moment the bearing didn’t register. The Udaloy was past the closest point of approach and was now behind them. They had slipped by the Russian trap.
“Mr. Mitchell, what’s your battery status?” Hardy’s question had a positive sound to it.
“Twenty percent, sir.”
“Then bring it back and let’s get out of here. You’ve done your job.”
As soon as the Manta was secured, Hardy changed course to two eight five and increased speed from three to six knots. They were still moving at a crawl, but they were finally leaving the Kara Sea.
* * *
When they crossed the 68th parallel, the XO announced their position on the IMC and secured the boat from ultra-quiet. The Udaloy was over thirty miles to the southeast and no longer represented a threat. Although Jerry knew they were still deep in Russian waters, he couldn’t help but smile, and everyone around him wore one just like it. And when he finally flopped into his bunk early that afternoon, he was still smiling.
23. KNIFE FIGHT
June 14, 2005
Northern Barents Sea
When the alarm went off, Jerry was dragged slowly from a deep sleep. At first, he couldn’t understand what was happening. He remembered he was on a sub and that alarms meant something, but he had to review the possibilities in his head one at a time: surfacing and submerging, collision, general quarters.
They were sounding battle stations.
Jerry flew up out of his bunk and somehow managed to climb into his coveralls while still moving down the passageway at top speed. Shaking off sleep, he almost fell down a ladder.
Boyd was on the phones in the torpedo room and filled in the torpedo gang as they arrived. “Sonar’s picked up a passive contact, just off the starboard bow. We’re going to ultra-quiet and try to get around it.”
“It’s a submarine,” Bearden added to Jerry. “I heard the contact report before I gave the phones to Boyd. They’ve got a Russian sub, a nuke, close aboard just off our bow. They know it’s a sub because of the faint machinery noise and no broadband. Can’t be anything else.”
A nuclear attack boat, creeping, and in their path. What orders did he have? More important, had he heard them? Memphis’ sonar suite was better than even a late-build Russian nuke, but they were noisy now, or at least they weren’t very quiet anymore.
Passive sonars could hear lots of things: the sound of propellers as they cut through the water, the sound of a sub’s machinery, even the sound of water flowing over the hull. In Memphis’ case, with her port main engine down, her remaining machinery had to work harder — and that translated into more noise.
Boyd relayed, “Control wants to know the status of the Manta.”
“Fully charged and prepped,” Jerry replied as he checked the status window on the display console. His men had automatically readied the Manta, but Jerry didn’t expect the UUV to be launched. Right now, it was all about moving, getting away. The Manta, useful as it was, didn’t have the speed or endurance of a nuke. Once it was launched, it was a liability, unless they decided to abandon it.
“Control says the contact is close aboard, slow right drift,” Boyd reported.
And if they launched it, the latches would create a transient, a noise that would appear briefly on any sonar display and then disappear. Lots of things could create transients: flushing a toilet or changing depth. They not only made you more detectable, they signaled to the other side that you were doing something.
In control, Hardy was busily trying to get a handle on the rapidly developing situation while Bair got the fire-control party organized. Men moved about hurriedly as they took their seats at the fire-control system, or pulled out fresh plotting paper and began recording the sonar bearings to the contact.
“Now what?” demanded Patterson as she ran into the control room.
“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I don’t have time for a detailed explanation right now. We have a Russian sub on top of us, and I don’t think this is an accident. The best place for you is in your rack,” stated Hardy firmly.
“They wouldn’t attack now. We’re in international waters…”
“Doctor! Joanna, please go to your stateroom.”
Silently she nodded and slowly walked back toward her quarters.
“Conn, sonar. Transients from sierra nine one.”
“Sonar, conn aye,” replied Hardy.
“Conn, sonar! Torpedoes in the water! I repeat: torpedoes in the water!”
“Helm, right full rudder. All ahead standard. Launch decoys,” barked Hardy.
Jerry’s heart turned to ice with the announcement and he reflexively grabbed hold of a bracket and spread his feet apart. He needed the handhold as the deck tilted sharply to starboard and the hull vibrated with power. Hang the noise. It didn’t matter any longer.
Doctrine said to turn sharply, increase speed and drop a torpedo countermeasure as you go. At close range, you wanted to get outside the acquisition cone, the field of view of the enemy torpedo’s acoustic seeker. But where were they? Had they acquired Memphis? Probably not yet, but would they? Depth charges were different. They were brutal, but you didn’t have to wait. With a homing torpedo, there was time to get really scared as they closed. And they would only explode if they hit you.
Boyd’s next message surprised Jerry. “The Captain says launch the Ma
nta immediately.”
Jerry glanced at the course and speed repeaters as he put on the phones. They were building up speed and were already over ten knots. The safe limit was five. Jerry put on his headset and started the launch procedures.
“Mr. Mitchell,” Hardy ordered over the circuit, “I won’t slow down Memphis, but I need the Manta out there.”
Jerry mentally threw the operations manual into the bilge and started hitting keys on the panel. “Aye, sir. Launching in thirty seconds.”
As he set up the launch, Jerry, along with everyone in the room, heard a rushing roar that reminded him of a jet fighter flying past.
“That was a torpedo,” Foster announced amazingly calmly. “And close, too. The Captain got the decoys out just in time.”
“Tell me when you’re clear,” Hardy ordered over the circuit.
The problem with launching the Manta at speed was Memphis’ upper rudder. It could clip the slowly-moving UUV as it left its cradle on the aft deck. He also wasn’t sure how the fast-flowing water would affect the Manta as it was released. If the latches were slower on one side or the other, the UUV could be rolled or pushed into the hull.
So he dumped as much ballast out of the Manta’s trim tanks as he could and overrode the launch program. Instead of automatically taking station five hundred yards off the beam, Jerry programmed the Manta to immediately climb and go into a sharp starboard turn.
Hoping it was enough, he reported, “Launching,” into the phones and punched the release. The display showed the Manta’s attitude, and he watched it closely as the latches opened, a little more unevenly than usual, and the nose of the vehicle caught the water flow. It rose so sharply that he had to correct with a full down command or the vehicle might have flipped over. It wasn’t designed to do that. Of course, it wasn’t designed to be launched at this speed, either.
Jerry saw the Manta rise quickly and the starboard turn started just as Memphis turned hard to port, separating the two vehicles.
“Current bearing to sierra nine one is two four three degrees true.”
Jerry acknowledged and turned to the southwest. The Manta’s active and passive sonars both saw the Russian sub and the active sonar was sharp enough to see the Russian’s torpedoes. He reported, “Confirm sierra nine one at two four three degrees, range three four hundred yards. The weapons bear one seven zero and one four zero, both appear to be turning.”
“Then get them away from us, mister. Head southeast and drop a torpedo countermeasure.”
“Captain, the Manta only has one Mark 3 countermeasure left and two Mark 4 decoys.”
“Understood. Carry out the order, Mr. Mitchell.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Understanding Hardy’s intentions, Jerry sent the UUV between the torpedoes and Memphis, heading south-southeast at best speed. He wasn’t sure where the Russian torpedoes were headed until he’d tracked them for a minute, but they were still searching for their target. With the Manta’s acoustic intercept receiver, he could hear the Russian torpedoes as they pinged, still at a long-interval search rate.
The torpedoes occupied most of his attention, but Jerry also kept his eye on the Russian sub. It was speeding up, the passive display brightening as the sub made more noise, and as he watched, a huge spike appeared on the boat’s bearing. He could see the Russian sub changing course sharply to port, turning toward the north.
“Conn, sonar, Sierra nine one has released a countermeasure. He’s zig-ging to port!” announced the sonar supervisor. “He’s increasing speed, turning away hard. It looks like a torpedo evasion maneuver.”
“But we haven’t fired.” Jerry protested.
“It’s the Manta’s sonar,” the supervisor answered. “Its frequency is too high to be a normal U.S. active search set, so they think it’s a torpedo seeker.”
“Which means they think we’ve counterfired.” Hardy concluded. “We’ll use the time to get some distance between us. Mr. Mitchell, I’m taking Memphis northeast. Get those weapons away from us and then see if you can confuse the Russian sub some more.”
During the discussion, Jerry had tracked the Russian torpedoes, figuring out their course and the direction of their turn. He had to do it in his head, because the Manta’s displays were not designed to plot and track multiple contacts. Figuring a sixty-degree-wide search cone on the front of each weapon, he’d adjusted the Manta’s course to put it in front of the torpedoes, but not on a direct line drawn from the weapons to Memphis.
He dropped the last Mark 3 torpedo countermeasure and then headed off to the west, at right angles to the torpedoes’ course.
“Conn, sonar, sierra nine one is at speed now and we can hear his propulsion plant. Contact is classified as an Akula-class SSN, possibly an Akula II.”
Wonderful. One of their newest and best, Jerry thought, although any elderly hulk with torpedo tubes would be a problem right now.
He continued to feed ranges and bearings to the contacts up to fire-control party in control and detected the Akula’s turn almost as soon as sonar reported it. “He’s turning and slowing.” For what purpose?
The torpedoes were indeed heading for Jerry’s countermeasure, and Jerry angled the Manta to the northwest at moderate speed to keep clear of their seeker cones. Memphis’ decoy had started to fade, while the Russian’s countermeasure continued to send out a storm of white noise.
The Russian sub was now almost due west of Memphis, heading north. Memphis was going northeasterly, while the Russian torpedoes circled and harried Jerry’s countermeasure behind her, to the south. Once the Russian countermeasure was abaft his port beam, Jerry changed course to due north and increased speed, trying to position himself between Memphis and the Akula.
But where to go next? Hardy wanted him to distract the Russian boat and Jerry realized that would be easy. He put the Manta on an intercept course and ordered it to go to maximum speed. He also turned on the simulator mode. Maybe the Russian would go nuts trying to figure out what an American nuke boat was doing with a forty-kilohertz sonar.
Jerry kept a wary eye on the torpedoes to the south, on the off chance that their seekers might pick up the Manta, but most of his attention was focused on the Akula. What would it do next and how could he screw around with their minds?
He’d kept control informed of his movements, and Hardy had ordered Memphis to slow to creep speed, hoping to disappear from the Russian’s passive sonar.
“Conn, sonar. Sierra nine one is turning to starboard.” Then the supervisor’s voice increased in pitch. “Launch transients! Torpedoes in the water, bearing two nine zero!”
The Manta’s passive display wasn’t as detailed as Memphis’ upgraded BQQ-5E and Jerry wasn’t as skilled as the sonarmen, but he could see the launch noises on his display and his imaging sonar actually saw one, then two torpedoes as they left the Akula. “Control, U-bay. I can see the weapons!” he announced. “Two torpedoes in the water! Bearing three one zero, range two five hundred yards.”
“I’ll wait on evading until you tell me where they’re headed,” Hardy said.
“Understood. Torpedoes showing zero bearing rate. Range, two two hundred yards from the Manta.” That put them on a course away from Memphis, which lay almost directly off the torpedoes’ port side. “Conn, sonar. Weapons are at search speed.” That was good. A typical torpedo searched at thirty or forty knots, then jumped to fifty or sixty to make an attack. The first pair had been fired at attack speed, so maybe the Russian captain wasn’t sure of his target and fired prematurely. At the combined speed of the torpedoes and the Manta, it would take the weapons one minute to cross the distance.
“Conn, sonar. Torpedoes are drawing to the right,” sonar announced.
Jerry answered, “Steady bearing on the Manta.”
Jerry kept feeding ranges and bearing to control, as well as trying to create a mental picture in his head. The Russian sub had slowed down and was heading southeast, toward him. Either the Akula thought he was Memphis
or regarded him as a greater threat. Either conclusion suited Jerry just fine.
“They’re headed toward me,” Jerry announced after a thirty-second eternity.
“Concur. Get out of there,” Hardy ordered unnecessarily.
“Doing it,” Jerry acknowledged.
He turned sharply to the east and held that course for a few seconds. He wanted the Russian to see the course change. Then he dropped a decoy, one of the two large Mark 4s the Manta had left, chopped his speed, cut the simulator mode, and dove for the bottom. Hopefully, he’d just disappeared from the Russian passive displays.
Jerry then turned the Manta back northward, toward Memphis. It was too early to rendezvous with the sub, but he couldn’t let the distance grow too great. The last thing he needed right now was a large time lag in the Manta executing his commands. Memphis was now heading due north. The Russian had stopped turning and was closing on Jerry’s last known position, which was conveniently marked by a very loud countermeasure.
The Akula’s latest pair of weapons started to range-gate, switched to shorter interval search rate, and increased speed. They covered the last five hundred yards to the countermeasure at what looked like fifty knots. As they pinged, a sharp high-frequency spike appeared on Jerry’s display and so quickly vanished that it merely blinked. Jerry saw them reach the spot and continue onward, heading southeast for another few moments. The ping rate slowed, managing to sound almost plaintive, and the weapons started circling, returning to search speed. They had shifted to a reattack mode. Jerry quickly checked the distance and saw that he was well outside the seekers’ acquisition range.
He watched the Russian sub for any sort of reaction. It had shot at Memphis and she’d evaded. Their second attack had missed as well. Did they still have sonar contact on Memphis? Had Jerry done a good enough job of impersonating a nuclear submarine? The Akula could zig east and south toward Jerry’s old position, or north and east toward Memphis. If they had truly lost contact, then Jerry doubted the Russian would head north.