“No, not yet. This is one of those things that you need to wait until the right time to do,” Jones answered. “This is between you and me. Anyone finds out about this and your ass is grass. Remember, you’re the one who wired this in. You’re the one who’ll have to explain to the Old Man what’s going on, so don’t open your big mouth.”
“You can count on me, Chief. My lips are sealed,” the young petty officer replied.
09 Jun 2000, 2345LT (10 Jun, 1045Z)
He sat up in bed and marveled once again at the beautiful young dark haired beauty that found him so attractive. Nude, she padded across the carpeted floor, opening the drapes so that they could look out over the harbor from their vantage point high on the hill above Pearl City. The view was glorious, both inside the room and out.
He arrived an hour ago, two hours late for their rendezvous. Those damn wives had kept him at that lawn party for hours with their impertinent questions. He had been furious inside by the time he could finally leave, but he managed to keep it hidden.
His anger poured out as soon as he was inside the door of the apartment. The submarine suddenly leaving on a secret mission, disrupting his carefully planned schedule, that insubordinate skipper, the demanding wives. He told her everything. It felt good to unload all of his cares. She listened so attentively and made him feel so important. Commodore Calucci knew that is was a breach of security, but what was the harm? She was only a student down at the university.
14
11 Jun 2000, 0839LT (10 Jun, 2329Z)
Joe Strang stormed into combat. "What do you mean, you don't know if they received the message? Those P-3s arrive in five hours. They're already in the air. We don't have time for guessing games."
He blinked several times, vainly trying to adjust his eyes to the dark interior after just leaving the bright morning sunshine on the bridge. The dim blue light barely illuminated a space crammed with equipment and people. Several large display screens mounted on the rear bulkhead displayed the positions of all the ships and planes within a thousand miles.
Lieutenant Garcia, on duty as the submarine element coordinator, looked up from his chart, "Skipper, it's been on the BGIXS broadcast for fifteen hours now. SUBPAC says that they have been backing it up on their SSIXS broadcast." He stepped over to the small communications center. "Petty Officer Han can explain it better than I can."
Radioman Han jumped up from his seat in front of the computer keyboard. "Yes sir. It's really very simple. We download the message to the buffer. It is automatically uploaded to a satellite in geo-synchronous orbit…"
"Just cut to the chase," Strang interrupted. "Did SAN FRANCISCO get the message or not?" There wasn't time for those lessons on the complexities of modern communications.
Petty Officer Han replied a little peevishly, "That's what I'm trying to explain. I don't know. I just don't know. We should get a signal from the satellite when SAN FRANCISCO queries it to get the traffic. That hasn't been working for several days."
LT Garcia broke in, "Sir, based on their last reported position and a thirty knot speed of advance, they should be clear of the area." The large screen showed the icon for SAN FRANCISCO well beyond the Torres Strait.
Strang shook his head. "I just hope they are. Nothing we can do know."
11 Jun 2000, 1130LT (0230Z)
“Skipper, we just received a Top Secret message from SUBPAC." Fagan rushed into Hunter's stateroom. The XO gasped for breath, his face flushed with excitement.
"The ESSEX ARG is running the Torres Straits tomorrow. Intelligence reported a probable KILO in the area just beyond Saibai Island. They think it is one of the missing Indonesian KILOs. Looks like they shot at an Aussie FFG 7 yesterday. The Aussies are reporting distress calls from survivors somewhere to the West of the Straits. Washington is in an uproar. They want us through the area and clear several hours ago. The P-3’s are commencing an all-out ASW sweep in two hours. They are under ROE that has all submerged contacts as hostile and their orders are to engage them.” Fagan continued his report as he thrust the red message board into Hunter’s hand.
Hunter took the board from the XO and read the message. "This damn message is over seventeen hours old. Nothing newer on the board canceling or changing this?"
Fagan answered, "No sir, nothing else. We have accountability for all traffic. We're not missing anything."
Hunter scanned the message again. It read exactly as Bill Fagan had described it. One of the recon satellites had intercepted a message from the KILO to its headquarters. Geo-location had placed it in the vicinity of the Torres Strait. The message that Hunter now held outlined an all-out anti-submarine assault on the straits by every asset that the fleet could muster. Clearly, it was no place for a friendly submarine to hang around.
Hunter digested this information for a few moments and then said, “Well, XO, I guess we had better hustle through there so we don’t get our asses inadvertently shot off. We need to slip past that KILO as quick as we can, before the P-3s arrive. They'll spend three or four days trying to find that boat. We don't have time to wait while they sort it all out. One of those P-3 jockeys just might get lucky.”
He rubbed his bristly chin. "Hmmm, remember that time in the
