Ninety Degrees North
Page 1
Ninety Degrees North
USS Stonewall Jackson – Book 6
Stephen Makk
Published by Stephen Makk in 2019.
Ninety Degrees North: copyright © Stephen Makk 2019.
Excerpt from Beneath Sunless Waves: copyright © Stephen Makk 2014.
Stephen Makk has asserted his right to be identified as the Author of this work under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons living or dead is coincidental.
Cover images: casfotoarda/AdobeStock; Kovalenko I/AdobeStock.
Stephen Makk’s covers and website are designed by Laura Read. See her work and books at laurareadauthor.com
Find out more about all of Stephen Makk’s books at stephenmakk.com
Contents
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From the author
Ninety Degrees North
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
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Beneath Sunless Waves – excerpt
Prologue
Chapter 1
About the author
Books by Stephen Makk
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From the author
A warming Arctic; a dispute between the west and Russia.
USA, Canada and Russia, along with China, struggle for supremacy in the high Northern Arctic. The coming Arctic conflict will require a reshaping of military infrastructure and bases. Vessels and airpower will need to adapt.
It is all driven by hydrocarbons, minerals and trade. Trade will play a big part; whoever controls the shipping routes and the seas around them is in a position of real power.
According to the US Geological Survey, the Arctic holds oil and gas reserves roughly equivalent to 412 billion barrels of oil, around 22 percent of the world’s undiscovered oil and gas.
Russia also launched the Akademik Lomonosov, a floating nuclear power station with two 35MW plants, to meet its increasing electricity needs in its bid to develop oil resources in remote Arctic regions.
Three new nuclear ice breakers are being launched; the three will keep navigation open all year round, capable of breaking through ice up to three meters thick to make way for convoys of ships.
Out east, skulking around the periphery, is China. Always listening, always looking. Now and again the Chinese People’s Liberation Army Navy and Air Force would mount a probe into the Arctic. The multiple ships and aircraft would withdraw shortly after deploying. The USA and the Russians puzzled over what the Chinese goals were.
In Ninety Degrees North, the Arctic crisis has come down to Russia against the west. As usual in my books, I do incorporate something of the real world in there. The geopolitical issues are real.
All devices used on the USS Stonewall Jackson are in service or being prototyped right now. An exception is Nils Sondergaard’s Eye of Ra. There are papers published in science journals and patents registered that allude to progress along these lines.
You can be sure that the NSA, GCHQ, Russian SVR and Chinese MSS Gothic Panda are all active in the area.
The probability is that something of this ilk will one day become a possibility. This book is about what could happen. The high Arctic is a place not much frequented. It’s tough to see how Moscow, Washington, Ottawa and Beijing will play this one out. If Beijing is involved, can Tokyo and Seoul stay away?
Stephen Makk.
Further reading:
https://www.theguardian.com/world/2012/jun/05/arctic-military-rivalry-cold-war
https://medium.com/international-affairs-blog/what-are-russias-aims-in-the-arctic-63a53456917
https://www.voanews.com/a/as-russia-touts-expanded-arctic-sea-routes-us-observers-see-veiled-threat/4875843.html
“The business of a soldier is to fight. Armies are not called out to dig trenches, to throw up breastworks, and live in camps. But to find the enemy, and strike him; to invade his country, and do him all possible damage in the shortest possible time… but such a war would of necessity, be of brief continuance, and so would be an economy of prosperity and life in the end. To move swiftly, strike vigorously, and secure all the fruits of victory, is the secret of successful war.”
General Thomas J “Stonewall” Jackson.
Ninety Degrees North
USS Stonewall Jackson – Book 6
1
Western Atlantic Ocean.
She slipped deeper into the cool depths, levelling out at 300 feet and cruised north at a sedate 8 knots. USS Stonewall Jackson was on the hunt; her opponent was quiet, her crew well trained, and the USN boat trailed a stealthy shark.
She wasn’t the only one on the prowl; the foe sought out her American opponent.
Locked in a blind struggle, the two crews hunted each other in the stygian depths.
Lieutenant Commander Nikki Kaminski looked up from her chart. “Sir, I think his likely approach to target will be on the north side of the Rutherford seamounts.”
She was the boat’s recently promoted Executive Officer or XO. She had been Navigation Officer and still liked to keep an eye on their location.
“Go on, Nikki, why?” replied Nathan.
“It’s the sensible way from his last location and it lets him seek cover in the canyons to his south.”
Commander Nathan Blake nodded. “Yeah, it’s a strong possibility. Benson, I take it you still have the contact?”
“No sir, I think the seamounts are shielding him.” Benson stared at the sonar screen and listened for any traces of their opponent. His sonar screen looked like an abstract painting covered in running, dripping oil. It meant something to Benson, but Nathan just shook his head.
“Planesman come to 345 degrees. We’ll get in among the mounts. Down bubble ten, make your depth 600 feet. Speed ten knots.”
“Down ten, 345 at 600 10 knots, aye sir.”
USS Stonewall Jackson angled down by the bow and slid further into the deeps.
She was a diesel-electric boat, an American/Japanese vessel based on the Soryu class. Traditionally, diesel-electric boats, like the boats from WWII, had used diesel engines on the surface for propulsion and to charge battery banks for use underwater. This limited the boat’s range and time underwater. A solution developed in the sixties was the Air Independent Propulsion drive, often using the Stirling Engine, which greatly increased time underwater. The Soryu’s designers had opted for newly developed Lithium-Ion Batteries, further increasing time and providing for more stealth. She was a quiet, lethal predator.
“Weaps, what’s our war shot status?”
“Sir, tubes two to four Mk48. Tube one is being loaded with a Mk48 right now. Tubes five and six Harpoon.”
“Remove a Harpoon and get Deputy Dawg in there.”
“Aye sir.”
Deputy Dawg was a Pointer, a torpedo tube launched retrievable self-propelled underwater drone. It was wire guided or free swimming. Named after the hunting dog, it could act as a passive or active sonar detector. A Pointer can appear to an enemy as a submarine and can deploy countermeasures or simulate a torpedo launch. It’s unarmed, but a great remote sensor or tool to spread confusion among any opponents. It was developed by Lockheed Martin and the wizards of underwater deception, L-3 Chesapeake Sciences Corp. The boat had four of them, all named after cartoon dogs. The rest were named Scooby, Ren and Stimpy.
“Sir, we have a seamount ahead; suggest we come left, there’s a deep channel there,” said Nikki.
“Ok, Planesman come 30 degrees to port.”
The boat turned to port and tilted to the left.
“That’s it, sir, we’re over the channel in the clear now.”
“Thanks, Nikki. Resume course to the north Planesman.”
“North, aye sir. Maintain depth and speed.”
Nathan looked to his highly skilled sonar operator, whose nickname was the Virginia Visionary. “Benson, keep those big sonar ears tuned in. He’s a quiet one, call for a coast if needed.”
The boat would sometimes coast with its engine off to listen for the enemy. The boat sailed slowly north along the channel at 600 feet and, after two miles or so, Benson looked up.
“Sir, can we have a coast? I may have something.”
“All ahead stop.”
“All ahead stop, aye sir,” replied the Planesman.
USS Stonewall Jackson slowed and became silent. Benson listened to the sea; he was at home now. He knew the sounds of biologics: marine creatures such as whales. He’d learned the tricky art of listening for shoals of squid.
“Sir, I think we have something. Bearing 40 degrees, heading south at eight knots. Range is tough, but I’d say six or eight miles. He’s not a nuke.”
Nikki looked over at Nathan. “Sir, he’s going to disappear down the next channel to us. He’s at 700 feet, well below the ridgeline peaks.”
He knew they couldn’t lose the contact. “Are there any passes between the ridges?”
“Yes, sir, heading 025 degrees, there’s a pass 300 feet deep through the ridgeline.”
“Come to 025 degrees, speed 15 knots.”
“Aye sir, 25 degrees at 15 knots. Coming to depth 250 feet.”
“Very good, Planesman. Weaps, designate contact as Tango one.”
The boat turned to starboard and headed for the pass. As the boat passed through the ridge and out into the adjoining channel, Nathan knew it was time to get in behind the contact.
“He should be ahead of us. Listen for him, Benson.”
Benson listened in on his real ocean world, aided by the sophisticated Hughes/Oki bow and flank sonar arrays. These were so sensitive that from off the coast of Georgia he could hear ships passing through the Strait of Gibraltar. Benson’s mind was at one with the sea; he knew her creatures, volcanic shifts, distant ships and what didn’t belong. Manmade whales of death who lurked in the silent dark depths were packed with torpedoes, missiles and mines. Hunter Killers are their name; there’s a reason for that.
USS Stonewall Jackson had one task: hunt down and kill the enemies of the US. General Stonewall Jackson had said, “Give them the bayonet.” His namesake intended to do just that.
“Flood forward one and two,” commanded Nathan, “make your depth 1,000 feet. Benson, find me that submarine.”
The boat levelled out at depth and cruised quietly south, listening.
After 15 minutes, Benson grinned at Nathan. “Sir, I have him. He’s quiet. Depth 700 feet, speed nine knots, range two miles, heading three five five degrees.”
Nikki checked the chart. “He’s heading right down the centre of the channel, sir.”
“Close slowly to half a mile behind, get in his baffles, then match his speed.”
“Aye sir.” Jackson closed on the foe.
“We’re in his baffles, 900 yards astern of him. Sir.”
“Any info on him, Benson?”
“He’s a diesel-electric and very quiet sir. He’s not a large boat.”
Nathan rubbed his temples. “XO, let’s play some games with him. Battle stations, battle stations. Let the dog out.”
All through the boat, men and women ran quietly but quickly to their battle stations.
“Sir, Weaps, flood tube six, open outer doors,” said Nikki.
“Tube six is ready in all respects, sir.”
“Launch tube six Deputy Dawg. Take him out to 1,500 yards east of Tango one.”
The Weapons Officer looked over to Nikki. “Pointer launched, proceeding to station, sir.”
Nathan thought the situation through. Tango one didn’t seem to be aware of their presence so far. He had a bad feeling about this, better to be sure.
“Weaps, flood tubes one and two. Get two Mk48’s ready. Plot a firing solution on Tango one.”
The Weapons Officer worked on his control station. “Firing solution laid in, fish ready, sir.” For now, it would be follow the foe, listen and learn.
“Deputy Dawg on station,” said Benson. “Pointer’s passive sonar paints a consistent picture.”
The boat shadowed the enemy boat along the deep ocean trench, stealthy, unseen.
“Sir, aspect change on Tango one. Coming to right. He’s coming right, now facing west, still coming about.”
Nathan knew what was going on. “Tango one crazy Ivan, crazy Ivan. Planesman 30 degrees down bubble, make your depth 1,400 feet.” He knew the enemy boat was making a 360 degree turn to clear his baffles, turning to face any pursuer. It was a manoeuvre named crazy Ivan, as it was first witnessed when used by Soviet submarines. The pursuer had no option but to quickly get out of the way, often using the engine to increase revs, giving away their position. By diving below a submarine’s normal operating depth, Nathan was attempting to get out of the way with the minimum of noise. There’d be some as vents were opened.
“Shit, sir, Tango one’s flooding a tube,” said Benson. “He may have us.”
Nathan knew it was time to act. “Weaps, active ping from Deputy Dawg. Let’s confuse this mother.”
The Pointer’s sonar made one active ping, painting the enemy boat.
“He’s flooding another tube. Wait one, wait one. Outer door opening. He’s getting ready to fire on us.”
“Weaps, open outer doors tubes one and two. Lay in a firing solution on Tango one, both fish.”
“Sir, Tango one on trigger. Type 53 fish in the water. Heading down for us.”
“Launch tube one.”
“Tube one launched, fish in the water, fish is hungry.”
The Mk48 raced off towards the enemy contact.
“Ready countermeasures port side.”
“Countermeasures ready to port, aye sir.”
The two fish raced towards their targets, with death on their microprocessor brains. In the boat’s control room, men gulped and briefly closed their eyes. It would all be over soon. One way or the other.
Nikki removed the boat’s intercom handset from its perch.
“Executive Officer Kaminski. Executive Officer Kaminski. NATO code 62A. Endex, I repeat, Endex. Stand down all personnel.”
Throughout the boat, men and women breathed again. This was an exercise. Nathan knew it, but didn’t know when the XO would call Endex. Only she knew the time to stand down.
“You have control, sir.”
“Thank you, XO. Planesman, up ten degrees bring the boat up. Prepare to surface the boat.”
USS Stonewall Jackson broke surface on a breezy but sunny morning. Seawater washed off her decks.
“Chief, open the sail hatch.”
“Sir.”
The Chief of the Boat, Nathan and Nikki climbed the ladder to the sail and stood in the open air for the first time in two weeks. The Chief lit his long-awaited cigarette.
“There, sir,” said Nikki, looking through binoculars.
Around a quarter mile away on the surface was Tango one. He saw her distinctive shape, with flared sail merging with the hull.
She was a Deutsche Marine, modern U boat. U34 Type 212A. The German Navy often sent boats over the Atlantic on exercise. The type 212A had proved herself to be a cunning opponent.
“We’ll let some fresh air into the boat, make for Kings Bay Georgia when we submerge,” said Nathan.
Later, when tied up ashore at the USN base, Nathan was sat at the conn writing an exercise report when Nikki came over to him.
“Sir, we’ve been called to a video conference ashore. It’s the CNO.”
Nathan raised his eyebrows. “We’d better get over there.”
In a secure room, a large monitor flicked into life. The USN logo was replaced by Admiral Kamov. “Good morning Commander Blake, Lieutenant Commander Kaminski. Welcome ashore. We have a situation developing in the Arctic. I want you to prepare the boat for deployment. Tomorrow mid-afternoon is your start time. Let the crew take a night out with their German colleagues. I’ll see that you're fully briefed en route. Head for the Greenland Sea; your potential opponents are the Russian Navy.”