Cold Choices

GALLANT IS SETTING UP THE EMERGENCY AID STATION IN THE WARDROOM.” Seawolf’s sickbay was barely large enough to treat a single minor injury. The standard procedure when there were more casualties was to take over the wardroom, as it had been designed to serve as an emergency operating room.

“THE XO REPORTS THE FIRE IS OUT AND THE REFLASH WATCH IS SET. RECOMMENDS THAT THE FORWARD COMPARTMENT BE EVACUATED WITH THE DIESEL.”

Lavoie looked at his captain. By rights, Rudel had the conn and should be taking action. The last thing a sub needed was two men giving orders. But the CO remained silent. The engineer knew what needed to be done.

“CHIEF, PASS THE WORD TO PREPARE TO EMERGENCY VENTILATE THE FORWARD COMPARTMENT WITH THE DIESEL. NAV, I NEED A GOOD COURSE TO REDUCE THE ROLL.”

As Chief McCord passed on Lavoie’s orders, Jerry walked over and said, “LAST KNOWN WIND DIRECTION WAS FROM THE NORTHWEST, RECOMMEND STEERING THREE TWO ZERO UNTIL WE CAN GET A BETTER ESTIMATE.”

There was one way, right in control, to see what the weather was like. Lavoie walked over to the pedestal for periscope number one and yelled, “UP SCOPE.” Grabbing the ring, he rotated it but the periscope didn’t move at all. Lavoie looked over at the chief of the watch, who was checking the hydraulic power plant section on the BCP. McCord started a hydraulic pump and glanced at the breaker panel. “THE EXTERNAL HYDRAULICS SYSTEM HAS POWER.” Lavoie tried periscope number two, but its hoist didn’t work either.

Nor did the snorkel mast. The snorkel was the intake for fresh air to the emergency diesel. More problems. Reacting quickly, Lavoie ordered that the emergency ventilation be switched to the low-pressure blower, and a half hour later the air was breathable, if unpleasant.

Shimko came back into control, his uniform spattered with water, grease, sweat, and soot. “The packing glands around the masts started leaking after the collision. There was spray under pressure from some of them onto the cabinets. It’s stopped now that we’re on the surface. The drains in the space can handle the accumulated water, but I can’t guess what will happen if we submerge.”

Rudel managed to look concerned and relieved at the same time. Jerry felt the same. It was bad, but it could have been worse.

The XO walked over to where Rudel and Lavoie stood together. “All the gear in there is soaked with salt water. A lot of it’s shorted out. There was a class-C electrical fire, but the casualty team made short work of it once the power was turned off.”

Jerry tried to remember which systems were in the electronic equipment space. They’d lost radio, certainly, and also the radar and ESM.

“There’s worse news,” Shimko added sadly. “Rountree was in there. They pulled him out of the space, but he’s unconscious. He took a couple of good whacks judging from the bruises, and he’s got electrical burns. He probably took a bad jolt when the equipment started arcing.”

Jerry had stopped working as he overheard the XO’s report, but now he couldn’t remember what he’d been doing. He took two steps toward the forward control room door, intending to go up and help. Rountree was one of his guys. But then he checked himself. The boat was still at General Quarters; Chief Gallant would take care of him. On top of that, they were still recovering from a nasty collision and a fire. There was nothing Jerry could do to help Rountree, and he’d probably just get in the way. Duty demanded that he stay at his post, but he wanted to go nonetheless.

Lavoie, the XO, and the captain turned back to the problem with the masts. None of them could be raised. Jerry wondered how many others of the crew had been hurt. Was Dennis Rountree the only serious one? Rudel only listened.

The XO pulled Lavoie aside and softly told him to take over in control and get some eyes up on the bridge. Lavoie nodded silently and then turned to Chief McCord. “We need to set the surface bridge watch. Get some foul- weather gear up here.” McCord acknowledged the order and sent the messenger of the watch and the stern planesman off to fetch the necessary apparel.

Jerry spoke up. “I’ll take the bridge. Peters can handle the nav plot.”

Lavoie nodded. “Fine, Jerry. I’ll keep the deck here. You’ll have the conn.” Suddenly, Jerry could hardly wait to get topside.

It took McCord a few minutes to break out the cold-weather clothing. When it arrived, Shimko grabbed a set as well. “As soon as you’re set up, I’ll join you.”

Jerry automatically answered “Yessir,” half-expecting the captain to come up as well, but Rudel simply watched the preparations.

When they opened the lower hatch to the bridge access trunk, the water pouring down the ladder was so cold that at first Jerry thought they had a leak up there as well. After a moment, the rush of water ended. He quickly climbed up the ladder, grabbed the hand wheel, and undogged the hatch. Ready for the next blast, with gloves on and every zipper the parka had closed and buttoned, Jerry pushed the hatch open and locked it. He then released the bolt on the clamshell and tried to lower it — it didn’t budge. After a second failed attempt, Jerry had the lookout grab hold of the handle and they pulled hard together. With a sharp pop the clamshell fell away, opening the cockpit to the elements. Making sure that his lookout was also ready, the two crawled out into the open.

The hard-driven icy air tore at his hood. There was more than just a strong wind blowing. Looking windward, Jerry could see a dark, uneven line of clouds. Remembering where he was, Jerry used his binoculars to scan the area.

For the first time since the collision, Jerry wondered about the other boat. Was it surfaced nearby? The uneven sea was almost completely covered with ice floes, but he saw no sign of it. Occasionally, one of the larger ice chunks would thud into Seawolf’s bow, but most were pushed away by her bow wave.

“Horizon’s clear,” Seaman Boster reported.

“I concur,” Jerry replied. “With this ice, there won’t be a lot of surface traffic, but there’s a good chance of aircraft — and watch out for the other submarine. Report anything that isn’t an ice floe.” Jerry had to shout to be heard over the wind. Boster nodded. “Permission to come up to the bridge,” came a voice from below.

“Granted,” replied Jerry. “But I’d advise you to be properly dressed. It’s cold up here.”

“No problem, sir,” said IT3 Fisher. “We ain’t stayin’ up here long! We’re just here to install the bridge suitcase.”

Two enlisted ratings hurried up, bringing the “suitcase” with the compass and other instruments. The navaids needed to conn the boat on the surface would never survive extended submergence, so they were designed as a removable package that could be quickly plugged in whenever Seawolf operated on the surface. It only took a few minutes for them to install and test the instruments.

“That looks a little different,” remarked Jerry sarcastically as he gazed at their handiwork.

“Well sir, it’s what we call an unauthorized shipalt. Since the network is still down, we can’t use the flat- panel displays. At least this way the older mechanical dials can tell you which direction the bow is pointing.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get. But what about comms?”

“Here you go, sir,” answered Fisher while handing Jerry a headphone set. “Your own sound-powered phone line. Now, sir, with your permission, we’re out of here.”

Jerry chuckled as his two guys bolted for the warm interior of the submarine. With the suitcase installed and the surface clear, Jerry used his improvised comms circuit to report his status below. “This is Lieutenant Mitchell, I have the conn. XO, sir, all clear.”

Shimko must have been waiting on the ladder, because Jerry had hardly started speaking when the XO appeared from the access trunk below. He was holding a digital camera.

Together, they studied Seawolf Her bow was half hidden by the waves, but the way the water flowed told the ugly story. Normally, Seawolf’s round nose pushed a bow wave up onto her forward casing in a smooth, clear sheet, which fell off to the sides and turned into white foam. Now, the bow itself was covered in uneven froth, making whitewater rapids as the bow pitched in the sea. It was clear that a large chunk of the sonar dome was missing.

Shimko took photos, then said, “Slow to three knots.”

Jerry passed the order down. Three knots was bare steerageway, enough to give the rudder control so Seawolf could stay on a straight course. The speed change did reduce the turbulence a