Sea of Shadows

Commander Bowie gripped the offered hand and shook it. “Thank you, Captain. You’ve got yourself a fine- looking ship here.”

Captain Whiley nodded and released the commander’s hand. “Kind words coming from the man who drives the most advanced ship the Navy has to offer.”

He made introductions around the table. “This is my XO, Commander Don Palmer.” A tall, blond man stood up and offered his hand. “And this is Commander Rachel Vargas, CO of the Benfold.” A trim woman with copper skin and deeply chiseled cheekbones stood up and shook Commander Bowie’s hand. She smiled. “Commander Bowie and I are old steaming buddies. I’ve been keeping him out of trouble for years.”

She looked him in the eye. “Good to see you, Jim.”

The last person at the table was a stocky redheaded man. He stood up and stretched out his hand. “This is the CO of Ingraham, Commander Mike Culkins.”

Commander Bowie shook his hand. “Mike and I know each other too. We did our first Divo tours together on the Bunker Hill. I coached Mike on ship handling, and he taught me how to drink too much without falling down.”

Commander Culkins grinned. “A skill that remains useful through the years.”

“Well,” Captain Whiley said, “looks like this is old-home week for you three.” His smile was theatrical, and it didn’t fool anyone.

His eyes lit on the chief, as though noticing her for the first time. He paused for a second. “Perhaps your chief will be more comfortable down in the CPO Mess.”

Commander Bowie looked at his chief. “Will we be starting immediately?”

The captain nodded. “We’re ready to begin now, unless you’d rather change out of your flight suit first.”

Commander Bowie shook his head. “I’m fine, sir. Ready to start when you are.”

“Good,” Captain Whiley said. He motioned to the table, which was laid out with trays of deli-style sandwiches. “I thought we’d have sandwiches and coffee while we work.” He smiled again. “Sort of a power lunch.”

“Looks great, sir,” Commander Bowie said. “But if we’re going to get started right away, I’d prefer that Chief McPherson stay up here. With your permission, of course. I brought her along because she’s been chasing submarines for the better part of twenty years. I know that I wouldn’t want to plan a sub hunt without her input.”

Captain Whiley’s smile narrowed perhaps a millimeter. “Fine,” he said with a quick nod. His tone of voice said that it was anything but fine.

“We’d be foolish to ignore that sort of expertise.” He looked at the chief.

“Make yourself at home, Chief. Welcome to Antietam’s wardroom.” His eyes carried not the barest glimmer of the welcome that he’d just offered her.

Chief McPherson took the nearest seat. “Thank you, sir. I hope I contribute something worthwhile.”

“I’m certain that you will,” the captain said. “Chief petty officers are the backbone of the Navy. I’ve always said that, and I’ve always believed it. They’re the subject matter experts.”

“Thank you, sir,” the chief said. She noticed that Captain Whiley was making no move to summon his own Chief Sonar Technician.

Commander Bowie found a chair, and as soon as he was seated, Captain Whiley walked to the far end of the room. A projection screen hung from the ceiling. He pulled a pen-shaped laser pointer from his shirt pocket and picked up a small remote control unit from the corner of the table. He pressed a button on the remote, and the lights dimmed. He pressed another button, and a ceiling-mounted projector flared to life. A map of the Middle East appeared, extending from the northern tip of the Arabian Gulf — at the top left-hand corner of the screen, to the Gulf of Oman and Northern Arabian Sea — near the lower right corner of the screen. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “this is our playground.”

The map, and the images that followed, were crisp, brightly colored, and had a professional edge to them. It rapidly became obvious that the briefing material had been prepared by someone who knew what they were doing, undoubtedly using slick commercial software. And Captain Whiley had studied his material well. He used the laser pointer to great advantage as he worked his way through screen after screen of images and charts.

Chief McPherson put down the sandwich she had been nibbling on and watched the captain’s presentation with a growing sense of alarm. First off, this was not a tactical planning meeting; it was a dog and pony show.

It was becoming increasingly apparent that Whiley had not invited them here to brainstorm tactics and search plans. He’d brought them here to wow them with his plan — one that he’d already formulated — meaning that it probably wasn’t up for debate. Taken by itself, that was bad enough, but it wasn’t the worst of it. Whiley’s planning was straight out of the textbook.

The chief shifted uncomfortably in her seat. There were three commanding officers in the room, besides Whiley himself. Surely they wouldn’t leave it up to her to say something. She was the only non-commissioned officer present, and Whiley had already made it perfectly clear that she was less than the dust beneath his chariot wheels. If she opened her mouth, he would stick his foot down her throat. And pissing off a full-bird captain would not be a good way to start her afternoon.

She was about to take her chances and say something anyway, when Commander Bowie spoke up. He cleared his throat. “Ah, Captain? If I may?”

Whiley continued for a few seconds before the interruption filtered through to his brain. He stopped in mid- sentence and stared at Commander Bowie. “Can I do something for you, Commander?”

Commander Bowie cleared his throat again. “Yes, sir. I can’t help noticing that your search and attack plans follow Navy doctrine pretty closely.”

Whiley smiled. “Thank you for noticing that, Commander. I pride myself on keeping abreast of the latest tactics. Train like you fight, and fight like you train. Anything else will get your ass shot off.”

“Yes, sir,” Commander Bowie said. “Ordinarily, I would agree with you one hundred percent. But we’re dealing with an unusual case here, Captain. We’re taking on submarine crews that are trained in NATO tactical procedures. If we try to use NATO strategies against them, we’re going to get our heads handed to us.”

Captain Whiley’s cheeks reddened visibly, even in the semidarkness.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Commander Vargas, commanding officer of the Benfold, jumped in. “With all due respect, Captain, I have to agree with Commander Bowie. So far, every ship that has tangled with these guys has followed standard doctrine, and all they’ve got to show for it is a string of downed aircraft, dead Sailors, and broken ships. We’re the last line of defense here, sir. We can’t afford to make the same mistakes they did.”

Captain Whiley pressed a button on the remote, and the lights snapped on without warning, half-blinding everyone in the room. “Are you two seriously suggesting that we flush years of battle-tested doctrine down the toilet and start over from ground zero?”

Commander Culkins piped up. “We wouldn’t exactly be starting from ground zero, sir. Commander Bowie and his USW team have already cranked out some preliminary tactics. Commander Vargas and I have been helping them plug the leaks, and I must say they look pretty sound to me.”

Captain Whiley’s eyes narrowed. “Do they now? And I assume you’ve worked out some method of testing these new tactics before you encounter the enemy? An enemy, I might add, that has already sent one ship to the bottom and put two others in dry dock.”

Commander Bowie shook his head. “No, Captain. There isn’t time to test them, but I still think it would be safer to avoid …”

Captain Whiley’s voice rose. “Did I hear you right, Commander? Did you actually say ‘safer’? How can it possibly be safe to chuck everything we’ve learned about USW in the trash can and substitute a bunch of untried theories? Good god, man, these new tactics you’re trying to shove on me haven’t even been tested in simulations, have they?”

“No, sir.”

Commander Palmer, Captain Whiley’s executive officer opened his mouth to say something and then snapped it shut. He obviously had an opinion on one side or the other, but it looked as though he had decided that it was safer to keep it to himself.

“So, in a nutshell,” Captain Whiley said, “you have no idea whether or not your ideas are tactically sound.” He looked around the room, the scorn on his face as evident as it was in his voice. “Am I really the only person who’s