The Hunt for Red October

God, this guy’s come four thousand miles, and he’s going to get killed within sight of his objective.”

“How to communicate with a submarine?”

Commander Barclay straightened up. “Gentlemen, we are not trying to communicate with a submarine, we are trying to communicate with a man.”

“What are you thinking?” Hunter asked.

“What do we know about Marko Ramius?” Barclay’s eyes narrowed.

“He’s a cowboy, typical submarine commander, thinks he can walk on water,” Captain Carstairs said.

“Who spent most of his time in attack submarines,” Barclay added. “Marko’s bet his life that he could sneak into an American port undetected by anyone. We have to shake that confidence to warn him off.”

“We have to talk to him first,” Ryan said sharply.

“And so we shall,” Barclay smiled, the thought now fully formed in his mind. “He’s a former attack submarine commander. He’ll still be thinking about how to attack his enemies, and how does a sub commander do that?”

“Well?” Ryan demanded.

Barclay’s answer was the obvious one. They discussed his idea for another hour, then Ryan transmitted it to Washington for approval. A rapid exchange of technical information followed. The Invincible would have to make the rendezvous in daylight, and there was not time for that. The operation was set back twelve hours. The Pogy joined formation with the Invincible, standing as sonar sentry twenty miles to her east. An hour before midnight, the ELF transmitter in northern Michigan transmitted a message: “G.” Twenty minutes later, the Dallas approached the surface to get her orders.

THE THIRTEENTH DAY

WEDNESDAY, 15 DECEMBER

The Dallas

“Crazy Ivan,” Jones called out again, “turning to port!”

“Okay, all stop,” Mancuso ordered, holding a dispatch in his hand which he had been rereading for hours. He was not pleased with it.

“All stop, sir,” the helmsman responded.

“All back full.”

“All back full, sir.” The helmsman dialed in the command and turned, his face a question.

Throughout the Dallas the crew heard noise, too much noise as poppet valves opened to vent steam onto the reverse turbine blades, trying to spin the propeller the wrong way. It made for instant vibration and cavitation noises aft.

“Right full rudder.”

“Right full rudder, aye.”

“Conn, sonar, we are cavitating,” Jones spoke over the intercom.

“Very well, sonar!” Mancuso answered sharply. He did not understand his new orders, and things he didn’t understand made him angry.

“Speed down to four knots,” Lieutenant Goodman reported.

“Rudder amidships, all stop.”

“Rudder amidships aye, all stop aye,” the helmsman responded at once. He didn’t want the captain barking at him. “Sir, my rudder is amidships.”

“Jesus!” Jones said in the sonar room. “What’s the skipper doin’?”

Mancuso was in sonar a second later.

“Still doing the turn to port, Cap’n. He’s astern of us ’cause of the turn we made,” Jones observed as neutrally as he could. It was close to an accusation, Mancuso noticed.

“Flushing the game, Jonesy,” Mancuso said coolly.

You’re the boss, Jones thought, smart enough not to say anything else. The captain looked as though he was going to snap somebody’s head off, and Jones had just used up a month’s worth of tolerance. He switched his phones to the towed array plug.

“Engine noises diminishing, sir. He’s slowing down.” Jones paused. He had to report the next part. “Sir, it’s a fair guess he heard us.”

“He was supposed to,” Mancuso said.

The Red October

“Captain, an enemy submarine,” the michman said urgently.

“Enemy?” Ramius asked.

“American. He must have been trailing us, and he had to back down to avoid a collision when we turned. Definitely an American, broad on the port bow, range under a kilometer, I think.” He handed Ramius his phones.

“688,” Ramius said to Borodin. “Damn! He must have stumbled across us in the past two hours. Bad luck.”

The Dallas

“Okay, Jonesy, yankee-search him.” Mancuso gave the order for an active sonar search personally. The Dallas had slewed farther around before coming to a near halt.

Jones hesitated for a moment, still reading the reactor plant noise on his passive systems. Reaching, he powered up the active transducers in the BQQ-5’s main sphere at the bow.

Ping! A wave front of sound energy was directed at the target.

Pong! The wave was reflected back off the hard steel hull and returned to the Dallas.

“Range to target 1,050 yards,” Jones said. The returning pulse was processed through the BC-10 computer and showed some rough details. “Target configuration is consistent with a Typhoon-class boomer. Angle on the bow seventy or so. No doppler. He’s stopped.” Six more pings confirmed this.

“Secure pinging,” Mancuso said. There was some small satisfaction in learning that he had elevated the contact correctly. But not much.

Jones killed power to the system. What the hell did I have to do that for? he wondered. He’d already done everything but read the number off her stern.

The Red October

Every man on the October knew now that they had been found. The lash of the sonar waves had resounded through the hull. It was not a sound a submariner liked to hear. Certainly not on top of a troublesome reactor, Ramius thought. Perhaps he could make use of this…

The Dallas

“Somebody on the surface,” Jones said suddenly. “Where the hell did they come from? Skipper, there was nothing, nothing, a minute ago, and now I’m getting engine sounds. Two, maybe more — make that two ’cans…and something bigger. Like they were sitting up there waiting for us. A minute ago they were sitting still. Damn! I didn’t hear a thing.”

The Invincible

“We timed that rather nicely,” Admiral White said.

“Lucky,” Ryan observed.

“Luck is part of the game, Jack.”

HMS Bristol was the first to pick up the sound of the two submarines and of the turn the Red October had made. Even at five miles the subs were barely readable. The Crazy Ivan maneuver had terminated three miles away, and the surface ships had been able to get good position fixes by reading off the Dallas’ active sonar emissions.

“Two helicopters en route, sir,” Captain Hunter reported. “They’ll be on station in another minute.”

“Signal Bristol and Fife to stay to windward of us. I want