USS NORTH DAKOTA
Tolbert watched tensely as Master One approached its CPA of two thousand yards. As the contact closed, Sonar reported a detection of Master One on the spherical array and then the port Wide Aperture Array on North Dakota’s hull. It was quiet in the Control Room. Every watchstander realized how close the Russian submarine would come.
The contact’s course and speed remained steady as it reached CPA, then passed by. When Master One opened to four thousand yards, Tolbert resumed trailing. “Pilot, ahead two-thirds. Left five degrees rudder. Steady course one-eight-zero.”
North Dakota picked up speed and reversed course, and a few minutes later settled back into Dolgoruky’s wake. Master One remained steady on course and speed, giving no indication North Dakota had been detected.
As the tension eased from Tolbert’s body, the Sonar Supervisor spoke into his headset. “Conn, Sonar. Request the Captain at Sonar.”
Tolbert joined Chief Bob Bush on the port side of Control.
“We may have an issue,” Bush began. “Master One passed by at two thousand yards, but we didn’t pick up propulsion or steam-plant-related broadband. Additionally, we should have picked up other tonals, but we didn’t. We held only the fifty-Hertz tonal and Dolgoruky’s ice-detection sonar.”
Tolbert considered Chief Bush’s report. The contact was too clean. Nuclear-powered submarines had dozens of pumps, electrical generators, and spinning turbines creating noise. At long distances, only strong, low-frequency tonals were detected. But as the range decreased, higher-frequency tonals as well as broadband would normally be heard. Either Dolgoruky was an incredibly quiet contact, or …
“We could be following a decoy,” Bush said.
Tolbert was quiet. If they were following a decoy, it was no bigger than a torpedo. There was an easy way to determine whether they were following a small decoy or a large submarine—go active and measure the size of the object. But that would give away North Dakota’s presence. However, if they were following a decoy, they needed to figure it out fast before Dolgoruky slipped away.
“Transmit on MFA,” Tolbert ordered, “Forward sector only, five-thousand-yard range scale.”
A moment later, North Dakota transmitted on their Mid-Frequency Active sonar and the return lit up the sonar screen; directly ahead was a small white blip. Chief Bush reported, “Contact width is less than five feet.”
Tolbert gritted his teeth. He’d been fooled into following a decoy. The Russian captain was good. But the game wasn’t over. They hadn’t been following the decoy very long and could still regain track on Dolgoruky. Tolbert recalled the short burst of cavitation they’d detected. That must have been when the decoy was launched. An examination of the navigation plot determined that spot was ten thousand yards to the north.
“Pilot, come to course north,” Tolbert ordered. “Sonar, Conn. Prepare to transmit MFA, forward sector, ten-thousand-yard range scale.”
North Dakota swung back to the north, and as she steadied up, Bush reported, “Conn, Sonar. Ready to transmit MFA.”
“Transmit.”
North Dakota transmitted, but this time, instead of a single contact, there was a wide band of white running across the screen.
“Ice keel at ten thousand yards,” the Sonar Supervisor announced. “No contacts between us and the ice keel.”
Tolbert immediately discerned what the Russian captain had done. He had gone shallow to place the ice keel between the two submarines, and was slipping away as North Dakota followed his decoy south.
There was no time to lose. Tolbert ordered, “Pilot, ahead full,” then turned to the Officer of the Deck. “Station the Fire Control Tracking Party.”
A few minutes later, the Fire Control Tracking Party was stationed, returning the Control Room to full manning as North Dakota sped north.
YURY DOLGORUKY
Captain Stepanov checked the clock in the Command Post. Dolgoruky had hidden behind the ice keel for thirty minutes. At ten knots, the American submarine would have traveled far enough for Dolgoruky to slip away.
“Set Hovering to one hundred and forty meters,” Stepanov ordered. They were pointed directly at the ice keel, and would need to drop beneath it before restoring propulsion.
The Compensation Officer dialed in the depth, and valves in the variable ballast tanks opened, flooding water into the tanks. Dolgoruky began its descent.
Stepanov added, “Resume transmitting on top- and bottomsounders.”
The two sonars started transmitting again, measuring the distance to the ice and bottom. As Dolgoruky dropped beneath the ice keel, offering a clear view of the water to the south, a report blared from the speakers. “Command Post, Hydroacoustic. Regain of Hydroacoustic seven, bearing one-seven-eight. SNR has increased nine decibels!”
Stepanov didn’t need to do the calculations to know they were in trouble. They had previously held the American submarine at four thousand meters, which meant it was now only five hundred meters away.
Hydroacoustic followed up with, “Detecting broadband propulsion noises from Hydroacoustic seven. Contact is operating at high speed!”
Stepanov was no longer worried about detection. The American crew had discovered they were following a decoy much quicker than he expected, and their captain had run back up the decoy’s track, directly toward Dolgoruky. Assuming the American submarine was traveling at twenty knots, it would close the remaining distance in forty-five seconds.
Dolgoruky was at all stop. They could not turn out of the way. That left only two options—up, or down. An Emergency Blow would send Dolgoruky surging toward the ice, crushing the conning tower and maybe even puncturing the pressure hull. However, Dolgoruky was already descending, and maybe they could drop below the American submarine in time.
Stepanov shouted out, “Disengage Hovering! Flood all ballast tanks!”
USS NORTH DAKOTA
Commander Tolbert leaned over the navigation plot, examining the white dot representing North Dakota. They were on course three-five-eight, approaching the point where the Russian captain had launched the decoy, but they had not yet regained Yury Dolgoruky on any sensor. However, they were traveling at ahead full, blunting the range of their acoustic sensors, and Tolbert decided to slow and take a look around.
“Pilot, ahead two-thirds.”
The Pilot entered the new propulsion order and as North Dakota slowed, the Sonar Supervisor announced, “Conn, Sonar. Hold a new broadband contact on the spherical array, designated Sierra three-seven, bearing three-five-eight. Analyzing.”
Tolbert acknowledged the unusual report. Initial broadband gains were almost always merchant ships, and there were no merchants under the ice.
Chief Bush followed up, “Conn, Sonar. Hold the contact at zero elevation. SNR has increased threefold since we gained contact and continues to rise.”
The Sonar Supervisor’s report made no sense. How could Signal-to-Noise Ratio triple in only twenty seconds? He glanced at the MFA display on one of the sonar consoles, noting the white-banded return from their active pulse, painting the image of an underwater ice ridge. A ridge they were passing under now.
It was at that moment that Tolbert understood. The broadband contact they had picked up was Dolgoruky, dropping below the ice keel she had been hiding behind. They had picked her up on broadband, which meant she was close, and if signal strength had tripled in twenty seconds, that meant—
North Dakota jolted upward, knocking Tolbert off balance. He grabbed on to the navigation plot as a metallic screech tore through the air. Seconds later, everyone in Control was thrown forward as North Dakota slowed suddenly and the bow tilted downward.
10
USS NORTH DAKOTA • K-535 YURY DOLGORUKY
USS NORTH DAKOTA
The second jolt was more violent than the first, knocking every watchstander not buckled into their chairs to the deck and launching every unsecured item toward the forward bulkhead. The loose items crashed to the deck as the metall
ic screeching ceased, and North Dakota’s bow swung up to an even keel. The silence lasted for only a few seconds. The Flooding Alarm sounded, followed by a report blaring from the emergency 4-MC system.
“Flooding in the Engine Room! Flooding in Shaft Alley!”
The Co-Pilot reached toward the Ship Control Station and turned toward Commander Tolbert, awaiting direction to Emergency Blow. As Tolbert caught the Co-Pilot’s eyes, he realized an Emergency Blow would send them careening toward the surface in an uncontrollable ascent, smashing into the ice cap.
“Do not Emergency Blow!” Tolbert shouted.
The Pilot announced another crisis. “Maneuvering reports all stop!”
A 7-MC report from the Engineering Officer of the Watch followed. “Conn, Maneuvering. The shaft has seized. Unable to answer bells.”
Tolbert acknowledged, then called out, “Secure the Fire Control Tracking Party.” He turned to Lieutenant Commander Sites. “Take charge in the Engine Room.”
As the XO headed aft, accompanied by the Engineer Officer, North Dakota’s bow began tilting upward. They were taking on water aft. Tolbert checked North Dakota’s depth on the Ship Control Station. They were at three hundred feet and sinking. The Co-Pilot had lined up the drain pump to the Engine Room bilges, but more water was flooding in than was being pumped off.
Tolbert ordered, “Co-Pilot, line up the trim pump to take a suction on the drain system.”
The Co-Pilot complied and both pumps began dewatering the Engine Room. Tolbert checked the ship’s depth again. They were at 350 feet, still sinking.
The lights flickered in Control, and Tolbert realized Maneuvering had split the vital and non-vital electrical buses. That meant they were about to lose the turbine generators.
The 7-MC report explained. “Control, Maneuvering. Loss of all condensate pumps due to flooding.”
The condensate pumps sent water from the turbine hotwells into the feed system, where it was sent into the steam generators to be turned into steam. No condensate pumps meant no steam, and no steam meant no propulsion or electricity. As North Dakota sank toward the bottom of the Barents Sea, Tolbert realized the situation was spiraling out of control.
YURY DOLGORUKY
Stepanov knew instantly they were in dire straits. The Compensation Officer was flooding all variable ballast tanks to increase Dolgoruky’s descent rate when Stepanov felt the first impact. A metallic grinding from above pierced the Central Command Post, and Stepanov concluded the top of Dolgoruky’s conning tower had impacted the underside of the American submarine, gouging the bottom of its hull as it passed by. Then a second jolt hit, accompanied by a horrible wrenching sound as Stepanov and the other watchstanders were knocked to the deck. Dolgoruky’s conning tower must have caught the edge of the American submarine’s propulsor. As Stepanov landed on the deck, water flooded into the Command Post from around the periscope barrels.
Water sprayed in every direction, bouncing off bulkheads and equipment consoles. Stepanov wiped the cold water from his eyes as he pulled himself to his feet, assessing the damage. The tops of both periscope barrels were deformed. The conning tower must have been severely damaged and the periscopes bent.
They could not stop the flooding. Their only hope was that the flooding was within the capacity of the drain pumps. As Stepanov tried to make that assessment, the submarine’s flooding alarm sounded, followed by reports from Compartments Two and Three. There was flooding from hatches to the escape pod in the conning tower.
As First Officer Pavlov headed aft to check on the escape pod, Stepanov knew this was a disastrous scenario. There was no way to stop the flooding, and an Emergency Blow under the ice would do them no good. He glanced at the depth gage. They were at 160 meters and sinking, and the bow began tilting downward due to the water flooding into the two forward compartments. The drain pumps were not keeping up. Confirming Stepanov’s assessment, water surged into the Command Post from the level below.
They had to abandon the Central Command Post, and in the process, abandon hope they would gain control of the situation. He shouted as loud as he could, hoping he was heard over the roar of the inrushing water.
“Evacuate to Compartment One!” The watchstanders turned toward him and he shouted again, pointing toward the watertight door.
As the frigid water swirled around their knees, the watchstanders abandoned their posts, trying to maintain their balance as Dolgoruky’s down angle increased. Stepanov was the last to leave the Command Post, and as he did, he realized Yury Dolgoruky was lost.
USS NORTH DAKOTA
Four hundred feet and still sinking.
It was surprisingly quiet in Control; there was little more Tolbert and the Control Room watchstanders could do. They needed to stop the flooding, and North Dakota’s fate would be determined by personnel in the Engine Room. As Tolbert awaited the outcome, there was a modicum of good news. The submarine’s up angle had steadied. Now that the trim and drain pumps were dewatering the Engine Room bilges, they were keeping up with the flooding. However, North Dakota was still negatively buoyant and continued sinking.
“Passing five hundred feet,” the Co-Pilot announced.
Tolbert tried to imagine what it was like in the Engine Room. At a depth of five hundred feet, pressure was fifteen times greater than at sea level, and the water would shoot into the submarine with such force that personnel could not risk crossing paths with the high-pressure streams, which could cut through flesh and bone. The water would bounce off bulkheads and equipment, making it difficult to see, and the approach toward the flooding would be treacherous.
* * *
Lieutenant Commander George Sites leaned back against the hot surface of the port main engine, taking cover from the high-pressure water spraying in too many directions to count. Beside him was the Engineer, along with a phone talker wearing a sound-powered phone headset, while Sites held a WIFCOM radio in his hand. The three men were pinned down by the flooding, unable to get a clear look at the source or approach any closer. On the other side of the Engine Room, Sites spotted Chief Machinist Mate Tony Scalise, head of Machinery Division, and two other machinist mates.
Sites shouted into the WIFCOM so he’d be heard over the inrushing ocean. “Chief Scalise, XO. Have you determined the source of flooding?”
“XO, Scalise. The flooding is from shaft seals.”
A pit formed in Sites’s stomach. That was the one place they could not afford to have flooding. Other hull penetrations had primary and backup valves that could be shut, isolating breaches. The shaft had elaborate seals instead. If they failed, there was no valve to shut, but older submarines had an emergency “boot,” which could be inflated around the shaft to stop flooding. Unfortunately, NAVSEA engineers, in their infinite wisdom, had not designed an inflatable boot into Virginia class submarines.
They were screwed.
Movement on the other side of the Engine Room caught Sites’s attention. Chief Scalise and the two mechanics were moving aft, working their way between the high-pressure streams ricocheting throughout the Engine Room. The two Petty Officers each carried a green tool kit.
Sites shouted into his WIFCOM again. “Scalise, XO. What is your plan?”
Scalise replied, “Our shaft seals are designed so they can be tightened down, mating with the shaft. We just have to get there.”
Scalise and the other two mechanics disappeared as they worked their way aft. A few minutes later, the torrent of water streaming into the Engine Room abated, then slowed to a trickle before ceasing altogether.
* * *
“Control, Maneuvering. The flooding is stopped.”
Tolbert acknowledged the report, and he felt the submarine’s deck returning to an even keel as the trim and drain pumps dewatered the Engine Room bilges. Depth was six hundred feet. They were still sinking, but the rate was slowing.
North Dakota returned to an even keel at the same time the submarine stopped sinking, then the numbers on the depth gage reversed.
North Dakota began rising toward the surface.
“Co-Pilot,” Tolbert ordered. “Hover at three hundred feet.”
YURY DOLGORUKY
As Dolgoruky headed toward the ocean floor, Stepanov pulled himself into Compartment One. There was no one behind him and he ordered the watertight door sealed. As the door swung shut, he spotted three men in Compartment Two—Michman Glinka and the submarine’s senior enlisted man, Chief Ship Starshina Egor Lukin, dragging their unconscious First Officer. As the rising water began surging through the opening into Compartment One, Stepanov assessed whether they could shut the door if he waited. He ordered the door kept open.
“Hurry!” Stepanov shouted.
When Glinka and Lukin reached the doorway, Stepanov helped drag his First Officer, who was bleeding heavily from a head laceration, into the compartment. Glinka and Lukin followed and Stepanov ordered the door shut. As water surged through the doorway, their feet slipped on the wet, sloping deck. Stepanov lent a shoulder and the door inched shut. Once closed, Stepanov spun the handwheel, engaging the lugs.
Dolgoruky shuddered and Stepanov and the others flew backward, bouncing off equipment, while water burst from the ventilation vents. Lukin clambered to his feet and shut the ventilation isolation valve, completely sealing Compartment One. A moment later, the lights in the compartment extinguished, enveloping Stepanov and his men in darkness.
11
USS NORTH DAKOTA
As North Dakota hovered at three hundred feet, Tolbert assessed the condition of his crew and ship. The flooding had been stopped and the Engine Room bilges were being dewatered. A dozen watchstanders in Control had been knocked to the deck by the second impact, but they had picked themselves up and no one appeared injured. The situation could have been far worse.
Lieutenant Commander Sites entered Control. He was soaked through and shivering.
“Damn, that water is cold,” he said as he stopped beside Tolbert.
“Well done, XO,” Tolbert replied.
“The credit goes to Chief Scalise and M-Division. They tightened the shaft seals.”
Ice Station Nautilus Page 5