Authors: Joe Buff
The third SEAL, killed by the machine-gun fire, had to be left behind. The corpse had been shattered by the SEAL’s own grenades, and was self-cremating anyway.
“Back!”
Clayton shouted.
“Fall back!”
Minutes later
Van Gelder looked away from the smoldering broken skeleton near the rock outcropping. The other two large pools of blood were congealed now, sticky and brown. The stench of burning rubber and flesh made Van Gelder nauseous, and the lingering smoke from the tents and the truck made him cough. The ground was littered with brass shell casings and empty smoke grenades. Sharp bits of shrapnel poked out from the grass. The wind blew scattered bits of paper and unwound streamers of white field-dressing gauze. To Van Gelder the small abandoned battlefield was depressing. The bright sunny sky and twittering birds made it worse.
The enemy was fleeing to a low stone wall a thousand meters away. Bauer had his sniper and his machine gunner hold their fire. He told them to let the defeated men run, to save ammo for the militia’s counterattack—the Kampfschwimmer radioman had been monitoring communications on the island all along. Some of Bauer’s men spread wide to form a defensive perimeter, and blended into terrain and disappeared.
At intervals one of the enemy fired a round from a pistol or shotgun. To show his contempt, Bauer paraded around in plain sight, forcing Van Gelder to do so as well. The Kampfschwimmer chief crept off north, inland toward the Naim River, lugging two antitank rockets to ambush the armored car when it came.
The SEALs retreated over the long stone wall, then piled rocks and logs on top for better protection. Jeffrey flopped behind the wall and sat in the dirt with Clayton’s pistol warm in his hand. He leaned back against the stones and fought to catch his breath. He tried not to look at the dead SEALs laid out neatly by the wall. He felt their unseeing eyes stare at him, and he blamed himself for their deaths.
I distracted Clayton’s team by coming here when I did, to no good purpose. If it wasn’t for me they might’ve been more alert.
Ilse knelt behind the wall, clutching a dead man’s M-16. She glanced at Jeffrey; he thought she did it accusingly. Her face was streaked with sweat, and stained with black soot and green moss. Jeffrey knew he looked the same. He had a powerful thirst but lacked a canteen. He’d lost his sunglasses somewhere, and he squinted in the glaring sun. There was no shade here at all, but the endless wind prevented the sun from giving him any warmth.
Henga fired his revolver toward the enemy, then Harrison quickly fired another shotgun round. Each report made Jeffrey jump.
Apprehensive, he peered over the wall. The Kampfschwimmer weren’t pursuing.
Way up there, next to the rock outcropping, Jeffrey spotted the whip antenna for a German tactical radio. He knew they’d also have longer-range communications gear.
They want the bunker, not us.
“It’s coming,” the radioman said. “There it is.”
Van Gelder heard a puttering, droning sound in the sky. He saw a black dot approaching, growing larger fast, a small airplane. The island militia had sent it up for reconnaissance and spotting.
Bauer reached for an equipment pack and pulled out an antiaircraft missile. He waved for Van Gelder to get out of the way of the back blast.
Bauer crouched and hefted the missile launcher to his shoulder. He armed it, aimed, then pressed the trigger.
With a loud bang and a gush of flame the missile left the launcher; Bauer jolted, then regained his balance and put the empty launcher down. The missile rose into the sky, homing crabwise on the aircraft as its flight was caught by the crosswind.
The plane began to bank away. The missile impacted. There was a red-orange flash, followed seconds later by the sound of a sharp detonation. Pieces of aircraft, and burning fuel, fell to the ground in the distance. The earth shook
slightly when the pieces hit. A pillar of smoke rose from the impact sight.
“So much for him,” Bauer said.
The two demolition specialists left their concealment and brought up the atom bomb, a heavy box in a waterproof black outer casing. In shoulder satchels they carried their tools and supplies.
Van Gelder eyed the satellite-equipment bunker. It seemed such a flimsy thing.
“They left the door wide open,” he said to Bauer.
“So?”
“I don’t think you need to use an atom bomb.”
Bauer walked to the bunker, kicked the severed ends of wires and cables out of the way, and swung the armored door closed. He snapped the padlock onto the hasp, and jiggled it pointedly to show the door was locked now. “Satisfied?”
“No, I’m not. If this bunker is hardened at all, it’s against conventional bombs. Look at it. We do not need a fission weapon here.” Van Gelder was doing his job, to enforce the rules of engagement for using a nuclear weapon near civilians.
“We need to destroy this bunker,” Bauer said. “It’s a military target. We didn’t bring high-explosive charges. My hands are tied.”
“But this is just a backup relay site.
Look at it.
They’ll have spare links and nodes in other places, and cables underwater, too, for redundancy. Destroying this little bunker will hardly hurt the SOSUS at all!”
“We use the device.”
Van Gelder felt his blood pressure rise. There was an uncomfortable silence, punctuated by the rushing of the wind. “Can I speak to you in private?”
Bauer made a face and led Van Gelder to the side.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Van Gelder said.
“What do you think
you’re
doing?”
“Following my orders.” Van Gelder held up the thick
binder Bauer had made him bring, detailing the ROEs at great length in German. “The rules of engagement aren’t satisfied. You can’t set off the atom bomb.”
“You’re so naive, Van Gelder.”
“I’m doing what you told me to do. There’re a dozen ways a nuclear blast here would break international law. The principle of just cause, proportionality of collateral damage, protection of the environment…No such conditions have been met.”
“They were never meant to be, you idiot.”
The research and professional assistance which form the nonfiction technical underpinnings of
Crush Depth
are a direct outgrowth and continuation of those for
Thunder in the Deep
and
Deep Sound Channel
. First, I want to thank my formal manuscript readers: Melville Lyman, commanding officer of several SSBN strategic missile submarines, and now director for special weapons safety and surety at the Johns Hopkins Applied Physics Laboratory; Commander Jonathan Powis, Royal Navy, who was navigator on the fast-attack submarine HMS
Conqueror
during the Falklands crisis; Lieutenant Commander Jules Steinhauer, USNR (Ret.), World War II diesel boat veteran, and carrier battle group submarine liaison in the early Cold War; retired senior chief Bill Begin, veteran of many “boomer” strategic deterrent patrols; and Peter Petersen, who served on the German navy’s
U-518
in World War II. I also want to thank two navy SEALs, Warrant Officer Bill Pozzi and Commander Jim Ostach, for their feedback, support, and friendship.
A number of other navy people gave valuable guidance: George Graveson, Jim Hay, and Ray Woolrich, all retired U.S. Navy captains, former submarine skippers, and active in the Naval Submarine League; Ralph Slane, vice president of the New York Council of the Navy League of the United States, and docent of the Intrepid Museum; Ann Hassinger, research librarian at the U.S. Naval Institute; Richard Rosenblatt, M.D., formerly a medical consultant to the U.S.
Navy; and Commander Rick Dau, USN (Ret.), Operations Director of the Naval Submarine League.
Additional submariners and military contractors deserve acknowledgment. They are too many to name here, but standing out in my mind are pivotal conversations with Commander Mike Connor, at the time C.O. of USS
Seawolf,
and with Captain Ned Beach, USN (Ret.), a brilliant writer and one of the greatest submariners of all time. I also want to thank, for the guided tours of their fine submarines, the officers and men of USS
Alexandria,
USS
Connecticut,
USS
Dallas,
USS
Hartford,
USS
Memphis,
USS
Salt Lake City,
USS
Seawolf,
USS
Springfield,
USS
Topeka,
and the modern German diesel submarine
U-15.
I owe “deep” appreciation to everyone aboard the USS
Miami,
SSN 755, for four wonderful days on and under the sea.
Similar thanks go to the instructors and students of the New London Submarine School and the Coronado BUD/SEAL training facilities, and to all the people who demonstrated their weapons, equipment, attack vessels, and aircraft at the amphibious warfare bases in Coronado and Norfolk. Appreciation also goes to the men and women of the aircraft carrier USS
Constellation,
the Aegis guided missile cruiser USS
Vella Gulf,
the fleet-replenishment oiler USNS
Pecos,
the deep-submergence rescue vehicle
Avalon,
and its chartered tender the
Kellie Chouest.
First among the publishing professionals who influenced my work is my wife, Sheila Buff, a nonfiction author with more than two dozen titles in birdwatching and nature, wellness and nutrition. Then comes my literary agent, John Talbot, who lets me know exactly what he likes or doesn’t like in no uncertain terms. Equally crucial is my editor at William Morrow, Jennifer Fisher, always very accessible and remarkably perceptive on how to improve my manuscript drafts. Lastly, appreciation goes to my friend and fellow author Captain David E. Meadows, USN; and to Lee Glick, second lieutenant in the Civil Air Patrol and volunteer firefighter.
World events of the last century or more have proven one thing repeatedly: It is very difficult to predict the nature of the next big war to embroil America and our Allies. But from World War I to World War II to the Cold War and beyond, the tremendous importance of submarines has always been clear.
Since their inception, in every era, submarines rank among the most advanced weapons systems, and the most advanced benchmarks of technology and engineering achieved by the human race. Stunning feats of courage by their crews, of sacrifice and endurance, loom large on the pages of history.
The tools and techniques of undersea warfare are constantly evolving. Development will continue, rendered more urgent by the Anti-Terrorist War. With the U.S. Navy’s
Seawolf
class, new sonar systems, called wide-aperture arrays, have revolutionized target searching and fire control. Advanced SEAL Delivery System minisubs, to covertly deploy Special Warfare commandos in the forward battle area, are operational. Remote controlled Unmanned Undersea Vehicles and Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, operated from parent nuclear subs, form an essential part of the Pentagon’s acquisition plans.
Equipment for scuba diving in very deep water, for combat and salvage and espionage, is always pushing the envelope. Actual capabilities are closely guarded by the military,
but it is known that people have walked on the bottom at three thousand feet.
Ever improved quieting, and highly secret ways to reduce a submarine’s nonacoustic signature (thermal and chemical traces, wake turbulence, etc.), transform the meaning of stealth. All these forces of change drastically reshape how undersea warfare will be fought—and whoever controls the ocean’s depths controls its surface, and thus controls much of the world.
Studies are underway on using exotic hull materials to increase submarine operating depth. Alumina casing, a ceramic composite much stronger than steel, was declassified by the Navy after the Cold War. Someday, when the need grows compelling enough, vast areas of the ocean’s floor will become a high-tech battleground for front-line manned fast attack subs and boomers, and for their smaller robotic proxies.
To some questions about the future of national defense, obtaining correct answers will be crucial to the fate of democracy and freedom: Which gaps in our security posture could be exploited in years to come, by some shrewd, aggressive new Evil Empire or Axis? From what quarter might the next surprise attack fall? What sacrifices and feats of courage will America need, to prevail in the Next Big War? Perhaps the only certain thing is that submarines, and their heroic crews, will play a vital part.
Joe Buff
February 14, 2002
Dutchess County, New York
JOE BUFF
is a member of the U.S. Naval Institute and a Life Member of the Naval Submarine League, the Navy League of the United States, and the Fellows of the Naval War College. Highly regarded for his technical knowledge, he is considered an expert in the field of submarines, and two of his nonfiction articles about future submarine technology have won Annual Literary Awards from the Naval Submarine League. In addition to
Crush Depth
and his newest novel of submarine warfare,
Tidal Rip
, he is the author of the highly regarded adventure novels
Thunder in the Deep
and
Deep Sound Channel
. Mr. Buff lives with his wife in Dutchess County, New York. Visit his website at
www.joebuff.com
.
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“A
SUPERB high-water mark in naval fiction.”
Michael DiMercurio, author of
Threat Vector
“B
REATHLESSLY PACED…satisfying action for battle lovers…[Buff’s] meticulous attention to details of life aboard the
Challenger
and the obstacles it faces help heighten the drama.”