was certain to return fire with his own torpedo, and
There had to be a way to trick him, the way he was tricking their torpedoes. Some way to disguise or hide a torpedo until it was too close for the sub to evade. The Germans had been using decoys of nearly every sort imaginable since this whole crazy chase had started. If only she had some decoys of her own …
In the background, she heard the rumble of another set of missiles launching. They must still be trading punches with the shore-based missile launchers.
Too bad she couldn’t launch her own missiles. If only the water was deep enough for ASROCs. She could keep the sub distracted with an over-the-side shot, and — while he was busy evading the torpedo — she could drop an ASROC right off his bow. She could …
She stopped. Wait a minute … Maybe she could do it
Keep the sub distracted with ASROCs long enough to sneak up on him with an over-the-side torpedo.
She felt herself grin as she reached for the mike button. “UB — USWE. How long until the target is within our torpedo engagement envelope?”
“Kapitan!” the Sonar Operator shouted. “I have splash transients and hydrophone effects, bearing two-six- five. Initial classification: hostile torpedo! Estimated range — less than two thousand meters.”
“Very well,” Groeler said. “All engines ahead one-third, slow to five knots!” He glanced at the double dotted lines on the tactical display that indicated the zigzagging pattern of the clear lane through the minefield.
“Right standard rudder, steady new course one-four-zero!”
The boat began to come about. “Sir, my rudder is right fifteen degrees!
Coming to new course one-four-zero. All engines ahead one-third!
Slowing to five knots!”
Groeler was about to order the launching of the first pair of decoys, when the Sonar Operator shouted again.
“Kapitan! All hydrophone effects have ceased. Hostile torpedo has shut down.”
Groeler turned to stare at the man. “What?”
“The torpedo has shut itself down, sir. Its motor started up, ran for maybe fifteen seconds, and shut down.”
“That doesn’t make any …”
The Sonar Operator cut him off. “Kapitan! I have new splash transients and hydrophone effects, bearing three-zero-zero. Initial classification: hostile torpedo! Estimated range — less than one thousand meters.”
Groeler took three quick steps to the sonar console. The Sonar Operator was correct; the high-speed blade signature of an American Mark-54 torpedo was clearly visible on the screen. He verified the bearing to the new torpedo and decided that his current course was still viable. He turned toward the Officer of the Deck. “Launch two static noisemakers.
Then wait thirty seconds and launch two mobile decoys. Set one of the mobile decoys for low speed and the other for high speed.”
The OOD, who was now familiar with the tactic, had already been reaching for the Countermeasures Control Panel. “Aye-aye, sir.
Launching static noisemakers now!”
A pair of hisses and thumps marked the ejection of two decoys.
“Kapitan!” the Sonar Operator said. “I have splash transients and hydrophone effects, bearing zero-five-zero. Initial classification: hostile torpedo! Estimated range — two thousand meters.”
Groeler looked at the sonar display. The previous torpedo had shut down, just like the first one. Its signature began to fade from the screen.
The first torpedo’s signature was also fading but still visible. The third torpedo signal was bright and strong, bearing zero-five-zero, exactly as the Sonar Operator had reported.
What were the Americans trying to do? He opened his mouth to order a course change, when his Sonar Operator reported yet another torpedo.
Where were these torpedoes coming from, and why were they all shutting down so quickly?
“Kapitan?” It was the Officer of the Deck. “Do you wish me to launch more decoys, sir?”
“Yes,” Groeler said. “Launch two …” He stopped himself. “No …”
“These Americans are crafty,” he said. “They drop their useless ASROCs all around us, to force us to expend our decoys. Then, when we have no decoys left, they will fire their torpedoes. Launch no more decoys until I give the order.”
Chief McPherson watched the tactical display on the CDRT. It was working!
A distant rumble announced the launch of another ASROC. Hot on its heels came two more rumbles, as a pair of SM-3 missiles climbed into the sky in search of incoming Vipers.
The chief keyed her mike. “UB — USWE. Kill contact
“UB, aye. Going to
The Sonar Supervisor’s report confirmed the launch almost immediately. “USWE — Sonar. We have weapon start-up.”
A blue friendly-weapon symbol popped up on the CDRT and began moving toward
Another rumble, and another ASROC climbed into the sky.
“Kapitan …” The Sonar Operator’s voice sounded strange. “This one is not shutting down.”
Groeler turned toward him. “What?”
“This torpedo is not shutting down,” the Sonar Operator said.
Groeler stepped over to the sonar console. “Which torpedo?”
The operator pointed at the screen. The display was a nearly unintelligible mishmash of torpedo signatures, all faded to varying degrees. All except one. The torpedo signature at bearing one-seven-eight wasn’t fading at all. It was getting stronger rapidly.
Groeler could hear it now, the electric-razor whine of high-speed propellers. The sound quickly growing to a howl.
Groeler gripped the Sonar Operator’s shoulder. “Give me an estimated range!”
“Extremely close aboard! Less than five hundred meters!”
“Decoys!” Groeler shouted. No. It was too late for decoys.
“Belay that order! Counter-battery fire! I want a torpedo in the water NOW! Firing bearing one-seven- eight!”
The Fire Control Officer acknowledged his order and began to punch buttons with the speed of a touch-typist. “Torpedo away!” he shouted after a few seconds. “Firing bearing one-seven-eight!”
The water-jet ejection system emitted its characteristic burbling vibration as it propelled the torpedo out of its tube. The sound was almost lost under the shriek of the American torpedo.
The Fire Control Officer turned toward his kapitan. “Sir! What do we do now?”
Groeler stared back at him. “Now? Now, we die …”
The bulkhead to his left imploded, the metal first fracturing and then vaporizing under the incredible heat of the Mark-54 torpedo’s plasma-jet explosive. Groeler was blown from his feet and incinerated before his lifeless body hit the deck.
