Holtzmann nodded, “Do it.”
Jerry stepped back to the center of the control room. “Helm, all ahead one-third, make turns for five knots. Rig ship for ultra-quiet.” He turned to Holtzmann. “Should we notify the Captain?” As he asked his question, he heard his order echoed over the IMC: “Rig ship for ultra-quiet.”
“We’d be in big trouble if we didn’t,” replied the ensign. He picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Captain, Officer of the Deck. Sir, sonar’s detected a Bear Foxtrot off our port side, drawing rapidly to the right, evaluated as close. We’ve reducing speed and rigging for ultra-quiet.” He paused for a moment, then answered, “Yessir.”
Hardy stepped into the control room moments later. He stopped at the chart table for a moment, then studied the Bear’s track on the fire-control system. Silently, he headed toward the sonar displays as the watch team scrambled out of the way.
The waterfall display now showed about five minutes of track history, a single fuzzy line angling to the right, straight and steady. The Russian was continuing on his way
The Captain returned to the plot table, then the sonar display. He started to speak but caught himself before saying anything. Finally the petty officer manning the fire-control position said, “Contact is past closest point of approach and opening.”
He spoke softly — not a whisper, but not a normal speaking voice either. Jerry noticed that the control room suddenly seemed quieter. He realized that many of the familiar machinery noises were missing from the background. He also felt the boat slowing, a subtle difference in the deck’s vibration.
Hardy also spoke softly. He ordered, “Maintain this speed for thirty minutes after contact is lost, then resume normal speed and secure from ultra-quiet.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Holtzmann acknowledged.
Hardy left, but a minute later the two ladies entered, almost breathless. “What’s ‘ultra-quiet’ mean?” demanded Patterson. “What’s happening?” asked Davis. Concern filled both their faces. Their voices, also full of concern, were raised and sounded harsh in the quiet control room. A soft chorus of “Quiet, please” and “Speak softly” surrounded them. Even Patterson looked embarrassed as the two were hushed.
“It’s just a precaution,” assured Holtzmann. “Sonar picked up a Russian patrol plane and we went quiet to make sure it didn’t pick us up.”
“You mean it almost found us?” Concern grew to alarm on Patterson’s face. She started to speak softly, then forgot as emotion filled her voice.
“No, ma’am, there’s no sign of that. It passed close enough for us to hear it, but there’s no indication it changed course or did anything but continue flying from point A to point B. It’s headed away from us now, but just to be on the safe side, we’ll lay here in the weeds for a while, just in case he did drop a sonobuoy or three.”
“And they can hear us if we speak too loudly?” Emily’s question was a mixture of curiosity and surprise.
“Ma’am, at ultra-quiet, we reduce speed to a creep. This not only reduces the flow noise as the boat’s hull passes through the water, it also lets the engineers shut down some of the machinery. Unnecessary equipment, like some of the ventilation fans, are turned off, and some normal activities, like cooking in the galley, also stop. And all off-watch personnel are supposed to get into their racks and stay there.”
“Like us?” Emily asked.
Holtzmann nodded. “Like you two ladies.”
“And they can really hear us walking around and talking?” Patterson asked.
“It isn’t that the walking and talking are all that noisy.” Holtzmann explained. “It’s that everything else is that quiet. The whir of a fan, the sound of pans clattering in the galley, or a loud conversation may be the first thing they pick up.”
The XO had come in during Holtzmann’s explanation. He checked the fire-control track and the chart, then turned toward the ladies. “This is the part where we lie on our bellies in the mud while searchlights pass overhead. This is where we paint our faces green and merge with the underbrush. If they find us on the way in, it’s going to be harder — a lot harder — for us to get the job done.
“It’s not like it was back in the ‘70s and ‘80s, when we had a huge acoustic advantage,” he continued, “and we are heading straight for the Russian Navy’s front yard. Not only is their Northern Fleet headquarters here, but half a dozen sub and surface ship bases and as many air bases. In other words, the entire Northern Feet’s right over there.” He pointed to the southeast.
“Imagine how we’d feel if a Russian submarine went snooping into the Chesapeake Bay. How would our Navy react?”
“It’s going to be hard to type lying down,” Patterson declared resignedly, then left, with Davis following her. As she left, Bair said, “It shouldn’t be too long — this time.”
The signal from the Bear faded completely a few minutes later without changing course. They waited thirty minutes, the tension gone but prudence still in charge, then secured from ultra-quiet. They resumed normal transit speed, but Jerry sensed a different mood in control: not grimmer, but quieter and more focused. From here on they could expect to encounter Russian units at any time.
It was almost the end of his watch before anything else happened to break the quiet. Jerry looked up from his quals book as sonar announced, “Conn, sonar, new contact bearing one six zero degrees. Designated new contact sierra seven seven. Contact is a distant active warship pinging with a medium-frequency search sonar. Probably a patrol craft.”
Holtzmann told Jerry, “You make the report to the Captain this time. I’ll get us quiet.” As he gave the orders to reduce speed and rig the boat for ultra-quiet, Jerry picked up the phone, dialed the Captain, then repeated sonar’s report.
Hardy replied, “Thank you, Mr. Mitchell. What are your recommendations?”
Jerry replied, “Continue on base course, sir.”
“Because a medium-frequency sonar has a relatively short range?” Hardy prompted.
“Yes, sir.”
“Wrong answer, mister!” Hardy’s voice was harsh. “Order a turn to the north right now, new course zero two zero. I’ll be there in a minute. See if you can figure out by then what your mistake was.”
Puzzled, Jerry put down the phone and told the OOD about the course change. Holtzmann let him issue the order and then asked about Jerry’s expression. “I recommended that we stay on course, but the Captain said that was wrong. I don’t understand why. Russian patrol craft all have short-range sonar, and he’s not even close to us.”
“All true,” Holtzmann replied. “But what time of year is it?” he asked.
“Summer,” Jerry answered, confused by the question.
“In the Barents,” Holtzmann continued. “It’s a short summer up here. The weather’s decent, and the Russians cram a lot of exercises into these few months. Now, we know there’s a patrol craft out there pinging, but he’s too far away to be pinging for us. So what’s he pinging for?”
“A Russian sub.” Jerry answered, beginning to understand.
“Exactly,” Holtzmann confirmed. “There’s a decent chance that a patrol ship is getting practice on a live sub or that a sub’s getting practice with a live pursuer, probably both. Now the patrol craft can’t pick us up this far away, but if there’s sub around, then we are in an entirely different ball game.”
Hardy arrived as Holtzmann finished his explanation. “Anything more from sonar, Mr. Holtzmann?” Hardy asked.
“Sonar reports a single pinger only. They evaluate it as a Bull Horn sonar, bearing correlates with a passive sonar contact, possibly a Grisha. But it’s not a single contact. They’re getting several similar passive contacts, all close together, all with a very slow right bearing drift.”
“A group of ASW patrol craft,” Hardy concluded, “with one conducting an active search.” He stepped over to the intercom and pressed the switch. “Sonar, conn. Sort out those passive contacts and make damn sure they are all surface ships. And keep a sharp eye to the south for anything that might not be a surface vessel.”
“Conn, sonar aye” came over the speaker from sonar.
Hardy turned back to face them, but his explanation was for Jerry. “Individually, a Grisha or a Parchim isn’t much of a problem. A couple of short-range sonars, ASW rocket launchers, and ASW torpedoes. We can outrun one or sink it with one torpedo. But they hunt subs in packs, usually in groups of three or four. They spread out in line
