Shattered Trident (15 page)

“We’ve just picked up a new contact, Sierra-seven nine, off to the northeast. We’re working on a solution now. Say, Skipper, do you want me to get you a cup of coffee?”

“No thanks, Eng, I probably drink too much anyway,” Jerry replied as he studied the tactical situation on the display. “Have you attempted to contact Fargo?”

“Not yet, sir. The last fix we had indicated the UUV was still well outside of acoustic modem range; it won’t be close enough for about another hour.”

“Hmmm, I guess we’ll have to dog this fellow ourselves for a little while then,” lamented Jerry with feigned inconvenience.

“What a shame,” Sobecki replied cynically. Both men sported large grins. This was exactly the kind of action that any submariner worth his or her salt longed for.

“OOD,” sang out the sonar supervisor, “Sierra-seven nine is classified as a Type 039 Song-class submarine, snorkeling.”

Jerry, Sobecki, and Covey all looked surprised. There was nothing in the intel reports that suggested a Song-class boat had deployed. “Very well, Sonar Supervisor,” said Covey over his shoulder. “This complicates things a bit.”

“Indeed it does,” Jerry admitted, “but we’re still in a good position to control the tactical situation.”

Sobecki nodded his agreement. Then, leaning past Covey to get a clear line of sight to the tracking party, he grumbled, “Hey, Ollie, don’t you have a solution on Sierra-seven nine yet?”

“Coming up now, Eng,” Andrews shot back. “It should be up on the port VLSD.”

The data popped up on the display along with a tracking symbol in the approximate position and an error circle. The Song bore zero four eight, range ten thousand yards, heading due south at three knots.

“He’s chugging along, fat, dumb, and happy, recharging his battery,” Covey observed.

Jerry frowned. The picture just didn’t look right. “CDO, what’s the range between the Kilo and the Song?”

Sobecki spun the trackball, moving the cursor over the Kilo, and then dragged it to the Song. “Range is about 12,800 yards, Skipper.”

Jerry’s frown morphed into a disappointed grimace. “Are you serious? They shouldn’t have any problems at that range hearing the Song when it’s making such a racket!”

“Maybe their sonar isn’t as good as we’ve given them credit for, sir,” commented Covey.

“My aunt Agatha with a hearing trumpet couldn’t miss that!” Jerry’s voice was laden with sarcasm. The Vietnamese were new at this game, but surely they weren’t incompetent.

Standing there staring at the large-screen display, Jerry wrestled with the inconsistency. Maybe Covey was right and the updated Rubikon sonar wasn’t all that the advertisements claimed it to be. But still, even the older version would have been able to detect a relatively loud target this close. It just didn’t make sense. Perplexed, Jerry started going over possible alternatives in his head. He didn’t get far before the sonar chief blurted out, “Possible target zig, Sierra-seven eight, based on frequency. Target has either turned towards or sped up.”

“Confirm target zig, based on bearing rate,” cried Andrews. “Sierra-seven eight has altered course to starboard.”

The expression on Jerry’s face must have changed, as Sobecki started chuckling. “There, are you happy now, Skipper?” he teased.

His head hanging low, Jerry let out a long sigh. “Well, at least it now makes sense. But…”

“But,” interrupted Sobecki, “the Kilo is now heading straight for the Song.”

“Yup, that about sums it up.”

“Do you want me to summon the XO to control?”

“Yes, please, Engineer.”

As Sobecki called for Thigpen over the 1MC, Jerry moved closer to the large display on the port side—his thoughts focusing on the tactical picture. The situation was degrading slowly. It would be at least half an hour before the Kilo would reach a firing position, assuming the Song didn’t change course. But what could he do with that time? Would it even be possible to break up the attack? His orders were pretty straightforward, and everything that came to mind violated those orders.

It didn’t take Thigpen even a minute to reach control, and by then the fire control system had determined, conclusively, that the Kilo was on a perfect intercept course. There was no mistaking what was happening. The Vietnamese Kilo captain was getting into position to ambush the Chinese submarine. Jerry’s mind was racing. Shooting tankers was bad enough, but attacks against another country’s naval vessels kicked things up a notch. And then there were the safety concerns for his own boat. They weren’t far enough away to be immune from a stray torpedo. Should he just bug out and put more distance between the warring parties? He really didn’t like that option, but there seemed to be nothing else he could do. If only they could come up with a way to spook the other subs without giving themselves away.

“Skipper, I understand your desire to prevent bloodshed, but what can we do without revealing our presence?” pleaded Thigpen.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, Bernie!” snapped Jerry. He stopped and took several deep breaths. His XO wasn’t the enemy and Thigpen was only doing his job—perhaps, annoyingly, a little too well at the moment. His mind refocused, Jerry reapproached the problem.

“Okay. Active sonar is out. It’s a big neon sign that says ‘shoot here.’ The UUV is too far away, so we can’t use it as a diversion. And the mobile decoys are tuned for acoustic homing torpedoes.” Jerry ticked off the options on his fingers one at a time.

“And we can’t use any of our ADCs, as their electronic noise would be easily ID’d as American,” added Thigpen.

It was Thigpen’s last words that suddenly gave Jerry an idea. One that just might work. “Weps, we still have a few of those old NAE Mark 3 beacons on board, don’t we?”

“Yes, sir. We use them during exercises. They’re a lot cheaper than an ADC Mark 4.”

“Captain … what are you thinking?” Thigpen asked suspiciously.

“It’s quite simple, XO.” Jerry looked around for a piece of paper to draw on. Then remembered that there weren’t any paper plots—there wasn’t any room for them with all the electronic displays in a
Virginia
-class sub’s control room. Grabbing a pen from his pocket, he pointed to the geoplot display on the command workstation.

“We pull in behind the Kilo, overtake him, and drop an NAE with a time delay
between
the two boats. We then pull off to the north before either party has a chance to figure out what the hell happened.”

“But, sir, we’ll give ourselves away if we drop a countermeasure. They’ll detect it and know we’re here. There is no way to avoid that!” insisted Thigpen.

“You’re right, they’ll detect the NAE—but they won’t know it’s us. They won’t suspect it’s from an American sub!” Jerry exclaimed.

Thigpen was confused, frustrated, and it showed. “Huh? Come again? I’m not following you, Skipper.”

“Okay, look. The NAE is a very old countermeasure; the first models were designed in World War Two, over seventy years ago. It generates noise mechanically, not electronically. Neither the Vietnamese nor the Chinese would suspect the U.S. still has, or would even use, such a low-tech device.

“Also, when I was reviewing the log entries from
Michigan
’s engagement with the Iranian Kilo, my skipper, Kyle Guthrie, noted that the countermeasures deployed by the Iranian boat sounded almost exactly like an NAE. Don’t you get it? Both sides have Russian gear, including acoustic countermeasures! Each captain will think the other guy detected him and shot out a decoy! They’ll both be spooked and start evasive maneuvers, while we slink off to the north.”

Thigpen still wasn’t convinced. “But they’ll both be able to hear us when we pull in front. We’d be, what? Maybe two or three thousand yards away for either sub. We’re really quiet, but that’s way too close.”

“Correct again, we’d be
too
close. Both the Kilo and Song captains are boresighted toward the surface. The Song, so he doesn’t get run over by a passing merchant, and the Kilo as he’s setting up his attack. Neither sonar system can look at more than one depression/elevation angle at the same time. So we come in right off the bottom, below their sonar’s field of view. The water is shallow here, which will help hide our signature, and we have a negative sound velocity profile down to the bottom—everything is in our favor. Trust me, this will work!”

Jerry watched as Thigpen worked the problem through. He was still unsure, but his CO’s confidence overwhelmed him. Swallowing hard, Thigpen finally said, “It’s your call, sir.”

With a beaming smile, Jerry slapped his XO on the arm. Turning to Covey, Jerry ordered, “Weps, load an NAE in one of the signal ejectors. Set a two-minute time delay.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Covey.

Looking back at Thigpen, Jerry nodded and said, “XO, man battle stations.”

*   *   *

Once the crew was at general quarters, Jerry explained his plan to the control room watchstanders. He took extra care to make sure everyone understood what they were about to do, and why. The junior officers were awestruck and excited; the more senior ones were apprehensive. Even though the odds were very much in their favor, this was not a risk-free evolution.

As soon as the Kilo was on their starboard beam, Jerry made a sharp turn to the northeast and moved
North Dakota
into the Vietnamese boat’s baffles. Blocked by the submarine’s hull, the large cylindrical array in the Kilo’s bow couldn’t hear them and Jerry accelerated to fifteen knots.

It was a long, slow overtaking geometry, but twenty minutes later, the Kilo was five hundred yards to port and a hundred feet above them. With only fifty feet between the hull and the sea floor, Jerry slowed to ten knots as
North Dakota
slowly pulled in front. For the next six minutes, hardly a sound was made in control; even the watchstanders’ breathing was hushed. When they reached the designated point, Jerry ordered the NAE launched, turned north, and slowly increased speed to twelve knots. Thigpen started a stopwatch on the command workstation and called out the time in fifteen-second intervals.

“Fifteen seconds … ten, nine, eight…” Thigpen’s voice was just above a whisper.

“Pilot, ahead standard,” Jerry commanded.

“Ahead standard, Pilot, aye, Captain. Maneuvering answers ahead standard.”

“Very well, Pilot.”

Seconds later the NAE fired up and began rotating the rings of ball bearings inside at high speed. The noise it made was deafening.

Both the Kilo and Song were taken by complete surprise. The Kilo popped a countermeasure of its own, and accelerated to the southwest. The Song stopped snorkeling and headed north at flank speed. Not a single torpedo had been launched.

In
North Dakota
’s control room, a low cheer broke out as soon as it was clear the two hostile submarines had bolted in opposite directions without firing a shot. The plan had worked perfectly.

“Well done, all! Your execution was flawless,” gushed Jerry, clearly pleased with his crew.

“I think there are some drawers that need a changin’,” remarked Iwahashi cheerfully.

Thigpen shook his head. “Mine would if I was blasted out of the blue with Metallica at 150 dB!”

Jerry was still smiling. “Attention in control, we’ll stay in contact with the Kilo as it finishes its evasive maneuvers. After it settles down, we’ll get Fargo back in contact and then we’ll head back east. Carry on.”

A visibly relieved Thigpen moved closer to Jerry. “Congratulations, Skipper, your plan worked.”

“Thanks, XO. I was confident it would.”

Thigpen shook his head again. “You know, Captain, I think you’re a little too smart for your own good.”

Jerry laughed, but he heard his XO’s message nonetheless. “After Fargo is back in trail, we’ll break off and report in. This should make the commodore’s day after all the bad news we’ve sent in.”

“I don’t know, sir,” Thigpen replied. His face was skeptical. “Somehow I don’t think our new commodore is going to be all that pleased.”

Jerry was puzzled. “What makes you think that, Bernie? Neither side had a clue we were here, and we prevented more deaths. Surely that has to be a win in anybody’s book. I think once I explain it to Captain Simonis, he’ll agree it was the right thing to do.”

7

CONSEQUENCES

31 August 2016

0800 Local Time

USS
North Dakota

Off Hainan Island, South China Sea

Jerry couldn’t have been more wrong. Simonis was absolutely furious with his new commanding officer, and he wasted no time in saying so.

“What were you thinking, Captain? Your orders were to remain undetected, observe and report! Not to reveal yourself by interfering!”

Jerry swallowed hard; the severe dressing-down had caught him by surprise. Simonis’s reaction was immediate, almost visceral. Jerry had badly misjudged his new boss’s risk tolerance.

“Commodore, I am confident neither side knew a U.S. submarine was in the vicinity. My approach made the best use of the tactical situation and the environment; the other two submarines have inferior sensors and were too engrossed in what they were doing to notice our presence.” Jerry’s attempts at explaining his actions only succeeded in making Simonis angrier.

“Notice your presence!? Even if they didn’t pick up your boat, they couldn’t help but notice the countermeasure!” screamed Simonis. “How can you possibly defend this flagrant violation of your orders?”

Jerry took a deep breath, calming himself. He would have only one chance to get his point across. Responding with an angry tone would simply make matters worse. “Sir, as I stated in my report, an NAE is virtually identical to the Russian MG-24 countermeasure that both Vietnam and China have on their submarines. I took special care to make sure the NAE was placed between the two subs; their first impression would be that the other guy popped the decoy. The mutual evasion conducted by both boats, with no attempt to follow up and acquire me, proves that assumption was correct.”

“And if they recorded the acoustic signature, they’ll be able to discover the countermeasure’s identity after conducting post-processing,” Simonis countered.