Cold Choices

Palmer trained the periscope forward and rotated the optics downward. Six towering geysers of air and water vapor leapt from openings on Seawolf’s bow as seawater rushed into the ballast tanks from below and pushed the air out through the vents. “Venting forward,” he reported.

“Venting forward, aye,” responded the diving officer. “Open aft main ballast tank vents.”

“Open the aft main ballast tank vents, aye.”

Rotating the periscope around toward the stern, Palmer saw a similar eruption from the four after vents. “Venting aft.”

Unlike World War II fleet boats that were designed to quickly flood their ballast tanks and “crash dive” under the waves in less than a minute, Seawolf took her sweet time getting under. Like all nuclear-powered submarines, she was designed to stay submerged for long periods of time and wasn’t burdened with the need to surface often like the older diesel boats. The requirement for rapid submergence had been replaced by virtually unlimited underwater endurance and high speed. Furthermore, Seawolf was four times the size of a fleet boat and the increased tankage just took longer to fill. When the time came to submerge, Seawolf’sort of waddled her way down, but once all the way under she transformed into a graceful sea creature, completely at ease in her element.

“Rig out the bow planes,” ordered the diving officer.

As the ship control party continued with the diving procedures, Jerry watched Palmer supervising the evolution. One of Jerry’s duties as the senior watch officer was to provide the XO with an evaluation of Palmer’s performance, and he wanted the report to be based on factual observations, not fantasy. So far, Palmer seemed to be doing okay. Not great, but okay.

A couple of mechanical clunks told Jerry that the bow planes had been extended and locked. After a quick test, the helmsman was ordered to put ten-degree dive on the bow planes. The effect was immediate as the planes forced Seawolf’s bow downward, driving her under the waves. The video monitor showed the forward part of the hull burrowing deeper into the ocean; the venting geysers becoming more of a bubbling mass.

While the view was spectacular, it was also unnerving. Palmer should be doing 360-degree scans as the boat dove. Once again he had allowed himself to become fixated on a single aspect of this highly complex process. Jerry wasn’t concerned for the safety of the ship, as Hayes was on number-one scope and was keeping a vigilant circle search, but the lack of attention on Palmer’s part didn’t encourage confidence in his abilities. And if the captain didn’t have confidence in a JO, he wouldn’t get qualified. Fortunately, Hayes quickly recognized what was not happening and coaxed Palmer to resume a proper search.

Jerry’s brooding was interrupted by the diving officer’s next report: “Off’sa’deck, stern planes tested sat. I have the bubble, sir. Stern planes to ten-degree dive. Proceeding to ten-degree down bubble.”

“Very well, Dive,” replied Palmer.

With the stern planes in the act, the deck started to dip toward the bow. The force of the water on the depressed stern planes quickly caused the boat’s hull to rotate downward, driving her under the sea. The diving officer watched both the gauge on the ship control panel and the inclinometer attached to the bulkhead. Like a carpenter’s level, a gas bubble indicated the amount of the ship’s tilt as it approached the ordered ten-degree down angle. The reference to the ship’s angle by the position of the “bubble” was firmly rooted in submarine tradition, if somewhat antiquated.

“Depth five five feet,” called out the diving officer.

Palmer acknowledged the report as he kept up his circle search. Going around and around on the periscope, while necessary, was also tedious and somewhat tiring, even with a power assist to help turn the scope. “Dancing with the fat lady,” as the periscope watch was called, could give a person a good workout.

“Depth six zero feet.”

“Decks awash,” Palmer reported.

The diving officer kept on announcing the increasing depth, and after the seventy-foot mark, Palmer announced, “Scopes under. Lowering number-two scope.”

Simultaneously, Hayes lowered the number-one periscope. From start to finish it had taken Seawolf almost eight minutes to dive. Pretty much par for the course, thought Jerry as the quartermaster noted the time in the ship’s log.

Ten minutes later, Seawolf was at 150 feet and with a satisfactory slow speed trim. All balanced out and in her natural environment, she could now truly begin their journey north.

Jerry listened as the captain set Seawolf’s course and speed in a north-easterly direction at sixteen knots. By reflex, he double-checked the plotted course against the captain’s orders. Open water lay before them for hundreds of miles. He noted that the time of the next course change was several days away.

Captain Rudel stayed in control until after the watch had turned over, then headed aft toward his stateroom. The XO followed, announcing “Briefing at 1300” before he left. It was only a reminder. Not only had the briefing been part of the plan of the day, but out of the 130 men aboard, only a handful, Jerry included, knew the details of the boat’s destination and mission. There was more than a little curiosity.

With the maneuvering watch secured, Jerry returned to his stateroom and got busy collecting his briefing materials. He was providing the visual aids, as the XO put it, for the briefing to the CO and the rest of the wardroom.

Wardroom, USS Seawolf

Lieutenant Commander Shimko finished presenting Seawolf’s planned track. “And here’s the part we all like. Course two seven zero, then two two five. West and southwest to home. Total voyage time seven weeks, two days, and change. All things considered, a fairly short northern run.”

The packed wardroom held thirteen of Seawolf’s fifteen officers, along with Master Chief Hess, the chief of the boat. Lieutenant Commander Lavoie, the sub’s engineer, had the watch in control while Lieutenant (j.g.) Todd Williams, the ship’s damage control assistant, was back in maneuvering. When the wardroom was used for meals, the officers would eat in two shifts, and it was still a tight fit. With the space this full, everyone kept their elbows pulled in. Jerry had a little more space up front, because he had to handle the charts.

It had taken only fifteen minutes for the XO to lay out their planned course and describe their mission. Shimko didn’t waste words. He expected a routine transit, a smooth mission, and a speedy return home.

“Mr. Mitchell.” He turned to Jerry. “This is a very packed mission plan. Can you keep us on schedule?”

Jerry caught the XO’s tone. “Well, sir, there’s construction on the turnpike. If we take the bypass. ”

Everyone laughed, a comfortable joke among officers comfortable with each other and pleased with their new assignment.

Shimko announced, “Our torpedo officer will now describe exactly how the UUVs will be used on this op.”

Lieutenant (j.g.) Palmer, standing near the doorway, pulled some notes out of his shirt pocket. He didn’t try to move from where he stood.

He unfolded the notes and paused for a moment. “The vehicles we are carrying are prototypes of the Advanced Development UUVs. They have high-frequency imaging sonars and precision underwater mapping software. The high-resolution imaging sonar will allow us to collect precise bottom bathymetric data. There is also a special camera module that can take seven-megapixel digital photos of the bottom or anything interesting that it comes across.

“Each UUV is fitted with a GPS and inertial navigation system, and they’re smart enough to follow complex instructions. Seawolf will get in range of an ‘area of interest,’ typically about five nautical miles. We will launch one of the three vehicles — Maxine, Patty, or LaVerne.” Those who hadn’t heard the three names before, but understood the reference, smiled or chuckled; Palmer didn’t pause. “Each has an endurance of about sixty hours, but we expect each mission to take no more than forty-five, allowing a fifteen-hour margin.

“We can communicate with one acoustically within seven nautical miles, or by SATCOM, which gives us the flexibility to be much farther away. We can preset times when a UUV will come up to a shallow depth, find a safe hole in the sea ice, and listen for instructions. It can also use the same procedure to take its own GPS fixes.

“We won’t be able to see what a UUV has found until it returns to the boat. The imaging sonar returns almost photographic-quality images, but the acoustic modem would choke on that much data. We’ll download the detailed bottom data after the UUV is recovered. Instead, we’ll get basic data — a usable picture of the bottom, position,