Nimitz Class (1997)

by Patrick Robinson

  “Very Presidential,” replied the admiral. “Unless they hit again. Then he will be blamed, and slaughtered by his opponents for failing to take the grimmer advice of his senior military commanders.”

  “Yessir,” replied the Kansan. “Guess that’s just about what will happen. And some of us think they might easily be preparing to strike again.”

  “In these matters, Bill, as with legal contracts, you are never actually discussing what will happen. You must always be considering what could happen. However unlikely. In military matters, when you are dealing with a potential catastrophic loss of life, you must operate assuming the worst-case scenario. There is no other course. And in my experience, politicians have the utmost difficulty grasping that.”

  At this point Captain Greenwood entered the conversation. “Can you tell me, Lieutenant Commander, why you are so sure it was a Russian Kilo?”

  “I can, sir. We have checked the whereabouts of every other submarine in everyone’s Navy, including those from the Third World, which were either in refit, out of commission, or even sunk in the harbor in the cases of both Syria and Libya….”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” said the admiral, looking up at Bill, with a half-smile, and one raised eyebrow, “but didn’t the Iranians have a similar problem a couple of days ago…?”

  “I don’t really know about that,” replied the American.

  “Of course not,” said the admiral, still wearing his half-smile…. “Do continue, won’t you?”

  “Yessir. Well, having run all the checks we could, we came up with only one possibility. There was a Russian Kilo, which cleared Sevastopol in April, and was reported sunk in the Black Sea two weeks later. The Russians admit that they cannot find it after a long search, and they have reason to believe it may have escaped. Right now they are admitting it just vanished.”

  “Well, I suppose it could have just sunk in an awkward place and they have not been able to find it. These things do happen,” said Captain Greenwood.

  “Yessir. But if you were us, what would you believe?”

  “I’d believe it might have attacked my carrier.”

  “Yessir. It was the only submarine which could have. Which brings us right back to the President’s insistence that we prove the Bosporus underwater passage is possible.”

  “Before you bring out the big guns, correct?” said Greenwood.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised if there were a few senior officers in the Iranian Navy who consider that’s already happened,” said Admiral Elliott.

  Lieutenant Commander Baldridge said nothing, noticed that the admiral still wore his knowing half-smile.

  “It seems to me,” said Captain Greenwood, “that you are proposing something which is entirely unnecessary. Why risk a boat and her crew to establish such an outlandish possibility? Even if we were to do it, and were successful, it would merely tell us that a first-class boat, manned by the best possible crew, could exit the Black Sea underwater.

  “You could decide that, quite reputably, in this room, and save a lot of trouble with an extremely dangerous mission. In any event I doubt the rewards. Not to mention the fact that it’s against international law, and we could lose the boat in about thirty different kinds of accident, possibly drowning several dozen sailors.”

  “I did forget to mention, Bill,” said the admiral, “that Captain Greenwood is my personal devil’s advocate. I need one of those, because there are a lot of people who think I am only happy when I’m tackling something which could not, or should not, be done. Not true of course, but nevertheless a part of my reputation with which I have to live.”

  “Absolutely, sir,” said Bill Baldridge. “But the answers to Captain Greenwood’s concerns are simple. The President of the United States has spoken. He wants this journey made, in order to justify to Congress and to the Senate why he is about to spend untold billions trying to find an enemy which may not exist.

  “This is one of the best Presidents we’ve ever had. He’s a friend of the military and tries to understand the subject. He’s tough. He’s brilliantly clever, and always on our side. What he is trying to avoid is some smart-ass congressman second-guessing him about the Bosporus under the water, and a decision to spend billions of taxpayer dollars.”

  “Yes,” said the admiral, thoughtfully. “I see. He needs proof of it.”

  Captain Greenwood was beginning to look despondent as he saw the boss warming to the subject, and he spoke up again. “Why don’t you use a boat of your own?” he asked.

  “That’s easy,” replied Baldridge. “We haven’t had one for twenty years.”

  He referred to the old diesel-electrics which had been abandoned in a succession of defense cuts. U.S. strategists have long believed that America needed only big, powerful, long-range nuclear submarines as her operations were always across oceans.

  “Matter of fact I thought there was a lot of sense in what the Americans did,” said Admiral Elliott. “They really do need their long-range SSNs, and they only require a stealthy inshore boat on the rarest of occasions.

  “Politicians here in the U.K. think we can do the same but they are incorrect because we live in different geographical circumstances. We need to be able to operate right around the European coastline, with expert inshore submariners in command. Those little boats can be lethal to an enemy, which is why the Russians are still making and selling them. Dammit.

  “Our own situation is not much short of absurd.”

  “How do you mean, sir?” asked Baldridge.

  “Well, in recent years we spent about 1 billion pounds on four Upholder Class submarines which are roughly the equivalent of a Russian Kilo. That included all the development costs, and they were going to get progressively cheaper.

  “Then, from out of the blue, the politicians decided we did not need them, not even to keep under wraps for the day when we might. So in order to avoid any running costs whatsoever, however minor, they decided to sell ’em off cheaply to anyone who would buy. The Israelis already have one in operational service. The Brazilians are just starting workup. Followed by God knows who else.

  “They are being sold for peanuts, and in the view of the Submarine Service this is a criminal waste of the taxpayers’ money, and it shows an almost criminal lack of military foresight by our government.

  “Lieutenant Commander Baldridge, you come to me not as a bloody nuisance, which others might think. But as a particularly interesting opportunity.”

  “Yessir. I understand. Because we now have a reason to get one of those babies up and running, carrying out an important joint operation between our two countries.”

  “Precisely. And we all know this may be a major Naval emergency on a global scale. And the only way we can help our principal military ally is with our maligned little Upholder submarine, whose case we have been pleading, unsuccessfully, for a very long time.”

  “Well, sir, for our part, there was only one nation we could possibly come to. Not just for help, but for discretion and loyalty.”

  “Matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind going myself,” added the admiral predictably.

  “Absolutely out of the question, sir,” said Captain Greenwood, interjecting swiftly. “You simply could not be out of touch for that long, and also there would be an uproar if there was an accident and anything happened to you. No one could ever reasonably explain what you were doing on such a dangerous mission.”

  “Well, of course I wouldn’t much care then, would I?” replied the Flag Officer. “But I suppose you’re right. Still, the submarine would have to sail under British command.”

  “We assumed a British commanding officer,” said Baldridge. “But my President requires me to be on board.”

  “Right. That’s not a problem. The problem is the short notice. My U Class qualified COs are simply not up to it. And there’s no time to get them up to it. Whoever we appoint as captain will need a topman right at his elbow—a very experienced, conventional submariner.”

  Capt
ain Greenwood interjected. “What about Admiral MacLean, sir? If he can’t do it, then it can’t be done.”

  “What a bloody good idea!” said the Flag Officer. “We might have to persuade him, though. He goes grouse-shooting for the last part of August. But I think he’d do it. The old boy has a strong sense of history—it just might appeal to him.”

  “He’s not that old, sir. What would he be…fifty-six?”

  “He’d definitely consider himself young enough to have a shot at becoming the first man ever to make the underwater passage through the Bosporus,” replied Admiral Elliott. “Or the second.”

  “May I now assume you are leaning toward proceeding with this entire operation, sir? I mean the preliminary stages?”

  “Well, Dick, I am looking at some very interesting possibilities. From our own point of view it is obviously very good—one in the eye for the government, for trying to give away our extremely valuable hulls for petty cash. If we succeed in the mission it might even persuade them to allow us to keep at least two of the Upholders in the fleet, ready for the day when we may need them.

  “From the Turks’ point of view it will provide them with some very valuable new information, should we wish to share with them.

  “And, in the long term, the Americans will be pleased to see the Turks increase security around the Bosporus. You never quite know when the Russian Navy might rise again.

  “I’d say there was much to gain and little to lose—for everyone, especially us.”

  “Well, sir,” said Captain Greenwood, “we could lose a brand-new submarine and maybe a lot of people.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Dick,” replied the Flag Officer. “I think we’d survive a ramming from one of those shallow-draft ferries. Might knock off a mast, maybe a fin. Expensive, but not terminal. And a lot of the chaps would get out. The water’s not that deep.”

  “Sir, they would not survive a bad underwater collision in the dark with a wreck or a rock, nor would they survive colliding with one of those really big freighters which run through those waters.”

  “True. But we’re going to lose the submarines anyway, even if we sit here and do nothing.”

  “Actually, sir, it was the chaps I was more concerned about.”

  “Yes, quite so, Captain, I see that. But I do not want to turn my back on an opportunity to retain possibly three of the Upholders for the Royal Navy. And without this mission, they’re history.”

  “Yes. But also, sir, there is the question of Johnny Turk,” said Captain Greenwood. “Are we going to tell him?”

  “I don’t think the President wants to tell him,” said Bill. “But since it’s your boat, you’d better decide. We would prefer to say nothing.”

  “Let me remind you of one possible scenario,” said Captain Greenwood. “It’s the middle of the night. For whatever reason we are driven to the surface by either a collision, or by shallow water. Johnny Turk’s radar spots us. We go back to periscope depth and he comes out in a patrol boat, panics, and drops in a half-dozen depth charges which blow the submarine in half, causing most of the crew to drown. Should we not attempt to avoid that?”

  “Yes, I think we should,” said Admiral Elliott. “We’re not at war with anyone, and we shouldn’t lay ourselves open to that kind of reprisal. Johnny Turk is not going to be too cheerful about this, mark my words. So we are going to have to find a way to retain the integrity of the mission, by telling him, but not telling him, if you see what I mean.

  “And there I might be able to help.”

  Captain Greenwood averted his eyes. He knew when his boss was going to play a major card. And this was it.

  “A few years ago,” said his boss, “I had the happy privilege of being selected from a large group of non-applicants to escort an important visiting officer from Turkey on a sightseeing tour down the River Thames. It had all the makings of a total bloody disaster. He could not speak a word of English, and I could not speak a word of Turkish. I was told to settle for French, which I also hardly speak. Anyway, I stayed up all night with a couple of guidebooks until I was an expert on the historic sights up and down the river.

  “The Turk and I made it through the day. Had a very good time, and after dinner at the club, I fixed him up with a hostess from the Stork Room. As I remember, Al, the proprietor, let him have one on the house. That Turk owes me, and that particular officer is now CNS of the Turkish Navy. How’s that?”

  “Brilliant, sir,” said Baldridge. “Maybe we should send him a rain check for the Stork Room?”

  “No good, I’m afraid. It closed several years ago. Too many freebies, I suppose.”

  Captain Greenwood chuckled, and Bill Baldridge laughed out loud. But the Flag Officer was all business. “I propose the following. I’ll have a very quick word with my old Turkish buddy, in French. Bill here will head to Scotland immediately and talk to his new friend Admiral MacLean. I’ll speak to him first.

  “Then Dick can get on to the dockyard in Barrow-in-Furness and find out the precise state of readiness of that boat which is being sold to the Brazilians, Unseen, isn’t it?”

  “Andrew! Get the First Sea Lord on the line, will you. I’ll get this past the MoD. I believe the Prime Minister has been alerted. The politicos have no objection, and would wish to help our American friends if at all possible. Can’t have some half-assed tribesman blowing up the U.S. Navy, what?”

  The admiral stood up and suggested Bill go next door and check if it would be okay to stay with the MacLeans again, and perhaps take a run down to Barrow tomorrow with Sir Iain, have a look at Unseen.

  “We’ll send a Navy chopper in to meet your flight and get you over to Inveraray, if that’s okay with the MacLeans,” he said. “If not, you can camp overnight at the Faslane base, and meet Iain tomorrow. You’d better get on your way, and we’ll have a talk on the phone tonight, check that all the ends are coming together, as they surely will. Generally speaking we do not like disappointing the Pentagon. Especially when they’re paying, and we have something to gain.”

  Bill Baldridge ran down the stairs and boarded the admiral’s staff car. The driver already knew the American was on his way to Scotland, and they left for Heath row immediately. It was raining in Northwood at midday and the traffic was awful on the M25. But they sped under the tunnel into the airport with time to spare for the Glasgow flight at 1440.

  051835AUG02. 19.55S, 64.31E. Speed zero. Position Indian Ocean,

  three hundred miles due east of Mauritius.

  “Stores looking good. About another thousand gallons of fuel, Georgy. You’ll be on your way in a half hour.”

  “You really not come, Ben?”

  “I can’t come. I have to get off here and get on the oiler. And I have to get to our meeting point, because you cannot just unload fifty renegade Russian sailors and leave them in some South American village with a half million dollars apiece. I need to get us a boat. And we need to ferry these men away from the submarine two or three at a time, over a three-week time span. That’s what we agreed. Slowly, carefully, and safely, the way we’ve done everything.”

  “But, Ben, what if I get to our place and you not come? You never show up? What then for me?”

  “Georgy, you know where the final fueling point is. Nothing has gone wrong so far. And you have a Samsonite suitcase under your bunk, in which you have four million American dollars in cash.

  “You also have the full documents for the bank account in Chile. You even have their fax confirming your right to operate the account and a letter of credit for a further 5 million from that bank. Your money is safe. The biggest problem you have is getting off the submarine without being seen. That’s what I’m now doing for you. I have to go.”

  “Ben, I can’t let you go. The crew want you stay.”

  “Georgy, you cannot leave this boat without me there to meet you with a launch.”

  “I can beach it on one of those islands. Then I’ll share out the other money in the other case for the crew, and I
’ll get away, in small life raft, through shallow water, with my case and documents.”

  “Georgy. There are too many of you. And they’ll find the submarine within hours. We have to keep it hidden while we evacuate. I insist you stick to the plan.”

  “If you go, Ben, I might be a dead man. With you here I think I survive.”

  “If I stay, Georgy, we’ll both be dead men. You must do as I say.”

  “Ben, if I have to, I’ll have you held here at gun point. The crew won’t let you get off. They told me that two days ago. As soon as I told them what we had really done. Some of them are pretty upset. Even if we didn’t hurt Russia.”