Cold Choices

The opening kept drifting right, and while Palmer kept correcting, it meant the angle was constantly changing. More and more of Severodvinsk’s hull became visible with each correction, and the UUV’s angle numbers went past the limits they’d calculated. Finally Palmer turned Patty to the left and circled. It was a small circle, and this time Jerry noticed Patty’s speed was a little higher. The image was steadier, and grew quickly, then shuddered and flickered.

“Seawolf, we felt a vibration.” The underwater telephone still mutated any voice, but Jerry imagined the Russians waiting, hoping. A vibration?

“It missed. Patty must have bounced off the edge of the tube.” Shimko’s voice couldn’t hide his disappointment.

Rudel passed the news to Severodvinsk. “Our first attempt failed. We’re positioning to try again.”

Palmer was already circling for another pass. It was a tight circle this time, but he made his approach at a bare crawl. It looked good, but at the last moment, the display flashed with bright yellow pixels, then froze. A moment later, Patty’s computer rebooted, showing the vehicle lying alongside Severodvinsk’s hull.

“We can’t do that again.” Rudel said what everyone was thinking. “Get Mr. Palmer up here.”

Palmer set Patty to hover, with her forward-looking sonar shut off to save power, and then headed for control. The CO, XO, and others were all clustered around the now-dark UUV display, discussing what had gone wrong, when Palmer entered almost throwing his hands up in frustration. “It’s the cross-current, sir. It’s strong enough to throw Patty out of alignment just before we reach the tube. I don’t have enough time to react to the change before she hits the boat.”

“Patty can’t take another bump like that.” Shimko was stating the obvious, but it was meant more as a question.

“I know I’m close, sir. Did you see the bright yellow flash, just before she hit the second time? That was the sonar beam reverberating off the inside of the tube. The rest of the hull has anechoic coating, but the tube is bare metal. We were that close, then the current pushed me out of line.”

“So we use a crosswind landing,” Jerry announced. Ignoring their expressions, he continued his explanation with Palmer: “The water’s pushing you to the right as you try to enter the tube, right? Well, we often had to land on a runway that wasn’t exactly downwind.”

Jerry held out one hand, moving it in one direction, but angled it slightly to the left. “We called it ‘crabbing,’ just a little sideway angle that compensates for the crosswind. At the last minute, as we touched down, we’d add a little rudder to bring us into line with the runway.”

Palmer nodded slowly. “We are ‘landing’ the UUV,” he agreed.

Shimko said, “We don’t know the speed of the cross-current.”

Palmer answered that. “Maxine can provide ranges, and we can measure the current from her data.”

“Then get back down there and get set for another pass. We’ll figure the current’s vector and pass it to you.” Shimko pointed to the screen. Even though the sonar display was dark, the readouts still showed their numbers. “Even if the sonar can survive another hard bounce, we’re running low on juice. The single battery is having trouble meeting all the power demands and we’re depleting it faster than expected. We’re on borrowed time already.”

“Mr. Palmer,” spoke Rudel, more as a coach than a commanding officer. “I know you can do this. Stay calm and follow your training. Now go.”

Palmer quickly disappeared, and Rudel went back to the Gertrude to update Petrov and tell him they were getting ready to make yet another attempt. By the time Jerry and Shimko finished the math, Palmer was already pointed toward Severodvinsk. “It’s just a small correction,” Shimko explained over the handset. “Add two degrees of azimuth to the left at three and a half knots.”

Johnson acknowledged for Palmer, and Jerry added, “It will look like you’re off to the left, but it keeps Patty aligned with the tube. You’ll know the angle’s right if the bearing to the tubes doesn’t change.”

The chief acknowledged for Palmer again, and Jerry hung up the handset. “This all assumes Jeff’s hand is steady,” Shimko remarked softly. He was silent for moment, then asked, “Shouldn’t you be down there? This is your idea.”

Jerry wasn’t sure whether the XO meant the crabbed approach or the UUV transfer itself. He wanted to be close to the action, and he wanted to provide moral support. But the skipper told Jeff Palmer that he could do this. Showing up at a critical moment might say the opposite and distract him.

“Jeff’s on top of this, XO. He knows what to do. He’ll make it this time.”

“Lives are at stake.” The XO’s eyes were fixed on the display, and Jerry realized how wrong it must look to him. But to Jerry’s aviator’s eyes, imagining himself landing a jet, Palmer was right in the groove.

Jerry didn’t say anything more, but watched the bearing and bearing rate numbers on the display. They held almost rock steady, and Jerry saw the approach from Maxine’s point of view; the UUV was just a few yards away from the Russian’s hull.

The image flashed bright yellow again, and Jerry tried to guess when Jeff would straighten out his approach. In an aircraft, the friction of the wheels on the runway helped straighten out a plane. The temptation was to do it too early, or overcontrol and make too large a correction. And then there was the time delay. Don’t do it too late.

Jerry thought Palmer had waited too long, then he saw the image shift and realized Palmer must have sent the signal a few moments ago. The tube opening moved toward the center of the screen and suddenly a bright, sustained flash of yellow filled the display. Then it went dark.

“Control, torpedo room. I’m revving the motor,” Palmer nearly shouted over the intercom. “Full rpm!”

“Seawolf, this is Petrov. We can hear something in the tube! There is the whine of a motor.”

Rudel answered. “Severodvinsk, we think it’s in.”

“Control, torpedo room.” Palmer’s excited voice blared over the loudspeaker. “Executing command shut down!”

A long moment passed as the sound traveled to Severodvinsk and Petrov’s reply came back.”Seawolf, the whining has stopped. We are closing the outer door.”

“Control, torpedo room. I’ve lost all contact with Patty.” Palmer’s hopeful tone contrasted with what would normally be very bad news. Moments later, he was in control, waiting for word from the Russians.

Once the outer door was closed, the water would have to be removed from the tube. Normally it would be blown down with air, but with most of the high-pressure air already spent, the Russians could afford to use only the slightest burst to get the tube to start draining into the water round the torpedo tank. If Patty was filling most of the tube, there wouldn’t be much sea-water to drain. Then the inner door would have to be opened. Again, that normally used hydraulics. But it could be done manually, by cold, exhausted men breathing poor air. Finally, the vehicle would have to be pulled from the tube on a boat with a significant list, and it weighed nearly twenty-eight hundred pounds.

Jerry had been torpedo officer on Memphis. He knew how he would have done it on that boat, or even Seawolf. How did the Russian mechanisms differ? Whatever the difference, he was going to have to wait a few minutes to find out if they were successful. Considering how long the Russians had waited, he couldn’t complain.

Severodvinsk

Petrov leaned heavily against the bulkhead, the microphone in his hand temporarily forgotten in relief and sudden fatigue. They’d done it, he told himself. The Americans had just saved their lives. He hoped.

Rodionov’s excited voice came over the intercom. “Request permission to open the breech door.”

“Granted,” Petrov replied.

“Door’s open and the vehicle is inside the tube. My men are rigging a block and tackle. Without power and with this pitch and list, we’ll be hauling the damn thing uphill, the wrong way out.”

“Understood. I’ll have the Starpom send down more men to help with the work.” With all of them tired and cold, hauling out the heavy vehicle would be exhausting work.

Kalinin overheard the conversation, and barked orders, sending a half-dozen uninjured men to the starboard torpedo bay. They almost hurried, and he saw several smiling. It was understandable, Petrov realized. There was now a chance they would not die.