It was Jerry’s turn to laugh. On more than one occasion he had heard a dull thud, immediately followed by some very salty language, only to see Barrineau roughly massaging his head. The young man needed to learn to duck.
“Passing one hundred feet, sir,” Simmons reported.
“Very well, Nav. Raise the photonics mast.”
“Raise the photonics mast, aye. Chief of the Watch, raise the photonics mast.”
Guthrie stepped down to the BVS-1 control workstation. Jerry followed. Unlike a standard periscope, the BVS-1 photonics mast didn’t have the ocular box and large barrel that penetrated the pressure hull. So instead of dancing with the “gray lady,” one just watched a flat panel display. While Jerry appreciated the multiple camera capability and excellent definition display of the high-tech mast, it was all very sterile. It lacked the dash and romance of a periscope observation characterized so well in the movies.
At first, the display showed a hazy greenish-blue background with shadows streaking across the screen. The operator spun the sensor head around, looking for any large shadows or evidence of a nearby ship. Then suddenly a brighter picture appeared as the camera cleared the water. The speaker for the electronic surveillance system started beeping and chirping as the antenna on the photonics mast detected the emissions of several radars. All were surface search sets and the signal strengths were weak. None were close. A couple of quick circular sweeps showed there were no close contacts. Guthrie grunted his approval and ordered
“OOD, get us back down to one hundred and thirty feet. I’m going with the XO to missile compartment second level. I’ll be back before we launch the ASDS.”
Simmons acknowledged the order as Guthrie and Jerry headed down the ladder. Both walked quickly along the narrow passageway; several sailors had to flatten themselves against the wall to let the two by. Once through the watertight door, they crossed the compartment to SOF tube one. The large hatch in the tube was open and several SEALs were just coming out. Carlson was also waiting.
“She’s all loaded and ready to go, XO,” he reported as he handed Jerry a clipboard. “Here’s the prelaunch checklist and the compensation calculations.”
“Thanks, Alex. But shouldn’t you be in the BMC right now?” asked Jerry. There was a stern edge to his voice.
“Ah… yes, sir,” the lieutenant replied uncomfortably. “I just wanted to make sure everything was squared away for the mission, sir. That’s all.” Then after a slight pause, “She is my baby.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jerry understood exactly where the winged ASDS pilot was coming from. And while he was sympathetic, it was still his job as the executive officer to train the junior officers assigned to him to think things through and do the right thing. “Vernon will make sure I don’t screw up too much, and I promise I won’t scratch the paint… Dad.” Jerry grinned with the last word. “Now report to your station.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Good luck, XO. Captain.” Carlson’s spirits were clearly buoyed, for as he approached the watertight door he spun about and said, “Remember, XO, mind the big rocks!”
Jerry snapped his fingers and pointed at the watertight door, encouraging the young man to get going.
“Nicely handled, XO,” commented Guthrie. “But shouldn’t you be getting your carcass up into the ASDS? You wouldn’t want to be late for your first mission.”
“No, that wouldn’t look very good. I’ll see you in a few hours, Skipper.”
“Good luck, XO. And do watch out for big rocks.” Guthrie smiled as he slapped Jerry on the shoulder and then stepped back to allow his exec access to the hatch. Once inside the tube, a SEAL closed and dogged the hatch. Jerry quickly climbed up the ladder into the lockout chamber. Barrineau and Higgs were waiting, and as soon as Jerry had pulled himself into the ASDS they secured the two hatches. Hunched over slightly, he worked his way up through the operator’s compartment to the pilot’s seat, sat down, and strapped himself in.
The displays were all up and running, showing the status of the trim system, propulsion, battery charge, navigation, as well as the minisub’s attitude, course, and speed. A quick look at the status board showed mostly green, with only the docking skirt and the docking pylon latches being red. Jerry reached over and grabbed the logbook for ASDS-1 and started to make the proper entry; the paperwork gods must be appeased.
Higgs climbed into his chair and buckled up. As the copilot, he was responsible for life support, sensors, communications, and operating the lockout systems. He also helped to monitor propulsion plant and battery status.
“Pilot, ASDS is ready for launch. Docking skirt and the pylon latches indicate red,” Higgs reported.
“Very well, Copilot.” Jerry flipped on the underwater communications system switch. “Starbase, Gray Fox. Comms check, over.”
“Gray Fox, Starbase. Read you loud and clear, over.”
“Starbase, Gray Fox. Flood docking skirt, over.”
“Gray Fox, Starbase. Flooding docking skirt.”
There was a brief bubbling noise as the air in the space between the docking skirt and
“Pilot, docking skirt indicates flooded,” said Higgs.
“Very well,” replied Jerry, then hitting the transmit button again, he said, “Starbase, Gray Fox. Release docking pylon latches, over.”
“Gray Fox, Starbase. Releasing docking latches.”
A loud
“Pilot, docking latches indicate unlocked. The ASDS is ready for launch in all respects.”
“Very well, Mr. Higgs. Pumping from trim tanks to sea.” Jerry punched up the ballast control screen and told the computer how much water he wanted pushed overboard.
“XO, remember to apply a little upward thrust once two hundred pounds have been pumped out,” cautioned Higgs. He wanted a clean launch. Bouncing around on the mating ring was the sign of a sloppy takeoff, a sign that would be heard by those in the tube and the BMC, and gleefully noted on their return.
“Understood, Mr. Higgs.” Jerry knew what he needed to do next, but his copilot was just doing his job by reminding him. As the readout passed 190 pounds, Jerry gently pulled back on the joystick. Slowly, the ASDS lifted off of
“Nice,” murmured Higgs with approval.
“Starbase, Gray Fox. We have separation, over,” declared Jerry.
“Gray Fox, Starbase. We hold you clear of the deck, over.”
“Starbase, Gray Fox. Roger that.”
Jerry waited a few more seconds, then turned toward Higgs. “Copilot, activate the forward looking soar.”
“Activate the forward looking sonar, aye. Pilot, the sonar is on line.”
Normally, a transmitting sonar would be a significant vulnerability. But the collision avoidance sonar on the ASDS operated at very high frequencies and low power, which made it difficult to detect unless you were really close. Still, Jerry would only keep it on as long as it took to ensure they had completely cleared
“Pilot, the ASDS is clear and free to maneuver.”
“Very well, Copilot. Secure the forward looking sonar.”
As Higgs turned off the sonar, Jerry brought up the autopilot menu and selected the pre-stored course, speed, and depth for the first leg of the trip. The display looked similar to that on a Garmin or Tom Tom, just without roads. Once the route was confirmed, he pushed the transmit button.
“Starbase, Gray Fox. We are clear of your position and are proceeding to Point X-ray, over.”
“Gray Fox, Starbase. Roger that. Godspeed. Starbase out.”
Jerry reached over to the main propulsion motor panel and selected “all ahead two-thirds.” Once the ASDS had some forward way on, he lightly pulled the joystick to the left. “Coming left to course zero zero zero,” he announced. Higgs acknowledged the report as he monitored the propulsion system display. Within ten minutes, Jerry had the ASDS up to her flank speed, a blazing eight knots. Satisfied that everything was in order, he activated
