Dangerous Ground

paying attention to the clock and just listened to O’Connell’s updates.

Then the bottom suddenly dropped out, literally, as Jerry watched the water depth jump from one hundred and fifty-four feet to over seven hundred in a matter of seconds. The Udaloy lay to the east-northeast, at zero seven zero, when what looked like a deep trench turned out to be a series of steep hills.

“The Captain says to stay at your present depth! He doesn’t want to have to dodge those peaks,” O’Connell relayed. “We’re not in active sonar range of the Udaloy, so there is no need to risk a collision. Come to course three zero zero.”

“Changing course to three zero zero, U-bay aye,” Jerry acknowledged. His job got simpler, since Memphis’ new course took them between the hills. Jerry and O’Connell continued to compare notes on their individual interpretations of the Manta’s sonar display over the circuit. From the sound of it, O’Connell was furiously trying to update the charts as they slowly made their way out. Jerry wondered if he liked playing cartographer.

Finally, after nearly thirteen hours of hair-raising flying, O’Connell passed a welcome report. “U-bay, conn, bearing to the destroyer is now one zero five.”

Jerry had become so focused on navigating that for a moment the bearing didn’t register. The Udaloy was past the closest point of approach and was now behind them. They had slipped by the Russian trap.

“Mr. Mitchell, what’s your battery status?” Hardy’s question had a positive sound to it.

“Twenty percent, sir.”

“Then bring it back and let’s get out of here. You’ve done your job.”

As soon as the Manta was secured, Hardy changed course to two eight five and increased speed from three to six knots. They were still moving at a crawl, but they were finally leaving the Kara Sea.

* * *

When they crossed the 68th parallel, the XO announced their position on the IMC and secured the boat from ultra-quiet. The Udaloy was over thirty miles to the southeast and no longer represented a threat. Although Jerry knew they were still deep in Russian waters, he couldn’t help but smile, and everyone around him wore one just like it. And when he finally flopped into his bunk early that afternoon, he was still smiling.

23. Knife Fight

June 14, 2005

Northern Barents Sea

When the alarm went off, Jerry was dragged slowly from a deep sleep. At first, he couldn’t understand what was happening. He remembered he was on a sub and that alarms meant something, but he had to review the possibilities in his head one at a time: surfacing and submerging, collision, general quarters.

They were sounding battle stations.

Jerry flew up out of his bunk and somehow managed to climb into his coveralls while still moving down the passageway at top speed. Shaking off sleep, he almost fell down a ladder.

Boyd was on the phones in the torpedo room and filled in the torpedo gang as they arrived. “Sonar’s picked up a passive contact, just off the starboard bow. We’re going to ultra-quiet and try to get around it.”

“It’s a submarine,” Bearden added to Jerry. “I heard the contact report before I gave the phones to Boyd. They’ve got a Russian sub, a nuke, close aboard just off our bow. They know it’s a sub because of the faint machinery noise and no broadband. Can’t be anything else.”

A nuclear attack boat, creeping, and in their path. What orders did he have? More important, had he heard them? Memphis’ sonar suite was better than even a late-build Russian nuke, but they were noisy now, or at least they weren’t very quiet anymore.

Passive sonars could hear lots of things: the sound of propellers as they cut through the water, the sound of a sub’s machinery, even the sound of water flowing over the hull. In Memphis’ case, with her port main engine down, her remaining machinery had to work harder — and that translated into more noise.

Boyd relayed, “Control wants to know the status of the Manta.”

“Fully charged and prepped,” Jerry replied as he checked the status window on the display console. His men had automatically readied the Manta, but Jerry didn’t expect the UUV to be launched. Right now, it was all about moving, getting away. The Manta, useful as it was, didn’t have the speed or endurance of a nuke. Once it was launched, it was a liability, unless they decided to abandon it.

“Control says the contact is close aboard, slow right drift,” Boyd reported.

And if they launched it, the latches would create a transient, a noise that would appear briefly on any sonar display and then disappear. Lots of things could create transients: flushing a toilet or changing depth. They not only made you more detectable, they signaled to the other side that you were doing something.

In control, Hardy was busily trying to get a handle on the rapidly developing situation while Bair got the fire- control party organized. Men moved about hurriedly as they took their seats at the fire-control system, or pulled out fresh plotting paper and began recording the sonar bearings to the contact.

“Now what?” demanded Patterson as she ran into the control room.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I don’t have time for a detailed explanation right now. We have a Russian sub on top of us, and I don’t think this is an accident. The best place for you is in your rack,” stated Hardy firmly.

“They wouldn’t attack now. We’re in international waters..”

“Doctor! Joanna, please go to your stateroom.”

Silently she nodded and slowly walked back toward her quarters.

“Conn, sonar. Transients from sierra nine one.”

“Sonar, conn aye,” replied Hardy.

“Conn, sonar! Torpedoes in the water! I repeat: torpedoes in the water!”

“Helm, right full rudder. All ahead standard. Launch decoys,” barked Hardy.

Jerry’s heart turned to ice with the announcement and he reflexively grabbed hold of a bracket and spread his feet apart. He needed the handhold as the deck tilted sharply to starboard and the hull vibrated with power. Hang the noise. It didn’t matter any longer.

Doctrine said to turn sharply, increase speed and drop a torpedo countermeasure as you go. At close range, you wanted to get outside the acquisition cone, the field of view of the enemy torpedo’s acoustic seeker. But where were they? Had they acquired Memphis? Probably not yet, but would they? Depth charges were different. They were brutal, but you didn’t have to wait. With a homing torpedo, there was time to get really scared as they closed. And they would only explode if they hit you.

Boyd’s next message surprised Jerry. “The Captain says launch the Manta immediately.”

Jerry glanced at the course and speed repeaters as he put on the phones. They were building up speed and were already over ten knots. The safe limit was five. Jerry put on his headset and started the launch procedures.

“Mr. Mitchell,” Hardy ordered over the circuit, “I won’t slow down Memphis, but I need the Manta out there.”

Jerry mentally threw the operations manual into the bilge and started hitting keys on the panel. “Aye, sir. Launching in thirty seconds.”

As he set up the launch, Jerry, along with everyone in the room, heard a rushing roar that reminded him of a jet fighter flying past.

“That was a torpedo,” Foster announced amazingly calmly. “And close, too. The Captain got the decoys out just in time.”

“Tell me when you’re clear,” Hardy ordered over the circuit.

The problem with launching the Manta at speed was Memphis’ upper rudder. It could clip the slowly-moving UUV as it left its cradle on the aft deck. He also wasn’t sure how the fast-flowing water would affect the Manta as it was released. If the latches were slower on one side or the other, the UUV could be