Fagan took a deep breath and then replied, “Skipper that worked in the attack trainer because we caught them off-guard." He hesitated, carefully weighing his words. "Trying to outrun the P-3s and blow past the KILO is just too risky. I think we should pop up and send a message to SUBPAC.”
Hunter shook his head. "There just isn't time. We can't wait around and then still get to the rendezvous on time. We have to get through." He chuckled, "Besides, what's the use in having the best stealth ship in the world if you don't use it once in awhile. Those P-3s don't have a chance of finding us."
Fagan tried one last time, his voice heavy with worry. "Skipper, listen to me. It's dangerous."
“XO, I am very well aware of that. Sometimes you just have to take a chance. Let’s just make sure that we are the ones writing the patrol report. Now, how far are we from the entrance to the straits?”
Fagan gave up the argument. “At this course and speed, we will be there in an hour. Then it's twenty miles beyond to clear the KILO’s probable patrol area.” He knew that Hunter's decision was final. There was nothing to do but help.
”Okay, XO, let’s think like that KILO’s skipper,” Hunter went on. “We think he is supposed to protect this strait and take out anything that tries to go through. We’re in his home waters, so stealth is important to him, but he'll feel that he has the advantage. He also doesn’t need to move much. Remember, a diesel boat is only a smart semi-movable minefield.”
Fagan responded, “He probably knows that the ARG is coming, but he may not know we'll be there first."
Drawing a rough chart of the Strait on a scrap of paper, Fagan continued. "I would expect him to be to the side of the ship channel just beyond the straits, right here," pointing to a spot just to the North of the main channel. "That way he could take advantage of the constricted waters and hide in the close in-shore noise while shooting out toward open water.”
“That’s about how I see it, too,” Hunter replied. “We’ll run through the straits hard and fast. Don’t give him any chance to react. Have our guns cocked and ready, just in case. How does that sound to you?”
Bill Fagan responded without much enthusiasm, “It just might work."
Hunter called the OOD and ordered, “Man battle stations torpedo silently and make tubes two and three ready in all respects. Load a MOSS in tube four.”
The MOSS, or MObile Submarine Simulator, was a small torpedo-like device that was designed to swim out on a preset course and play a tape recording that sounded like its mother sub. This was supposed to give the attacker the confusing problem of deciding which of two subs to attack.
Fagan rose and took a step toward the door.
“XO,” Hunter said quietly. “You ever been at war before? Had weapons free?”
“No, sir,” Fagan answered, his voice quivering just a bit. “You?”
“Nope,” Hunter answered as he rose to follow the XO out to the control room. “Sure should be interesting.”
The emergency DC lights, meant to give illumination if the AC lighting failed, blinked three times. The crew rushed to man their battle-stations, but silently. There could be someone nearby who might hear them.
Hunter walked into control. Reports were being fed to the XO that all personnel were at their battle stations. The weapons in tubes two and three were ready to search out their prey.
Hunter glanced at the charts to ascertain the sub’s position, then ordered, “Diving Officer, make your depth eight hundred feet. Ahead flank.”
He stepped up onto the periscope stand and spoke out, his voice resonating with purpose, “Attention in the fire control party, we are at war right now. There’s an Indonesian Navy KILO out in front of us somewhere. He’s already taken out one Aussie ship.”
Hunter looked around the control room. Every member of the team was riveted on his next words.
“He isn’t our mission. We have more important fish to fry. We’re going to blow by this guy before he has a chance to react. If we think he has detected us, but hasn’t shot, we will launch the MOSS toward him. If we detect an incoming weapon, we will snap shot a torpedo down the bearing to keep him busy.If we get him, great. But that isn’t our priority. The P-3’s will handle him.”
“First, we need to get through the narrow part of the straits. We have an hour and a half to go fifty miles before the Airedales get here. Remember, our mission is to rendezvous with the SEAL team. It’ll get awfully cold and lonely for them if we aren’t there to pull ‘em out of the water.”
11 Jun 2000, 1200LT (0300Z)
SAN FRANCISCO leaped ahead.
The whole ship shuddered when reactor operator shifted the reactor coolant pumps to fast speed. SAN FRANCISCO slid into the depths at a twenty-degree down angle. Leveling off at eight hundred feet, she accelerated past thirty-five knots. Her speed was now so fast that the KILO would have only seconds to detect, classify the new contact as a submarine, and put a weapon in the water at her before she was past it and gone.
This was exactly what Hunter was banking on. Catch the KILO skipper napping and get beyond him before he could react. Then, when the KILO went to periscope depth to report the onrushing US LOS ANGELES class submarine, he would be a sitting duck for
