of the shells might hit a tanker. If the ING tanker went up, the results would be catastrophic. He decided to wait. Wait a few moments, and pray the submarine didn’t shoot a torpedo. “Prepare to fire the torpedo decoys,” he ordered. “And watch for small boats. Tell Sonar to listen carefully.” Listen for torpedoes, he meant. What a place to fight a war!
The refinery fire was as bad as it looked. The conflagration lit up the clouds and illuminated the tanker pier with a ghastly flickering glow. Numerous small explosions sent fireballs puffing into the night sky. These explosions were caused when fire reached free pools or clouds of petroleum products that had leaked from ruptured tanks or pipes. The fire fighters had no chance. There was too much damage in too many places. As the fires grew hotter and larger, the glow cast even more light on the sea. The submarine approached the ING tanker, which was limned by the fire behind it. Saratov could see people moving about on the decks, probably trying desperately to get under way. He imagined the tanker skipper was beside himself. “All stop,” he told the control room. The submarine glided toward the tanker, losing way. Two hundred meters separated the two ships. “Left full rudder.”
The nose began to swing. “Looks like another destroyer, sir. Coming out of Yokosuka. Bearing one nine five, range thirty-two thousand meters.”
“Keep the boat moving, Chief, at about two knots.”
“Aye aye, sir. Two knots.”
The deck of the submarine was barely out of the water. He had never ordered the tanks completely blown. “Secure the diesels. Switch to battery power.”
“Battery power, aye.”
Saratov kept his binoculars focused on the Japanese destroyer, which was closing the range at about a kilometer per minute. The throb of the diesels died away. He could hear the rush of air and the crackling of the refinery fire. Somewhere, over the refinery probably, was a helicopter. He could hear the distinctive whopping of the rotors in the exhaust. “We have the first destroyer on sonar,” the XO reported. “Be ready to fire tube six at the destroyer at any time.”
“Aye, Captain. We’re doing that now. Destroyer at seven thousand meters.”
“How long until the first reload is ready?”
“Another twenty minutes, Captain.”
Terrific. We have exactly one shot. If we miss … He must have seen us! “You ready to shoot?”
“Yes, sir.”
Saratov waited, his eyes on the destroyer. He wasn’t shooting, which Saratov thought was because the tanker lay just behind. He could hear voices, shouts, in a foreign language that Saratov thought might be English. It certainly didn’t sound like Japanese, and it sure as hell wasn’t Russian. “Six thousand meters, and he’s slowing.”
Saratov had been waiting for that. The Japanese skipper wouldn’t hear much on his sonar at thirty-two knots, yet the high speed was an edge in outmaneuvering the torpedo. “Tube Six, fire!”
The boat jerked as the torpedo went out, expelled by compressed air.
Aboard Hatakaze, the captain was watching the tiny radar blip that was the submarine’s sail. If only he would submerge, clear away from that tanker!
The destroyer’s speed caused too much turbulence and noise for the bow-mounted sonar, so he had ordered the ship slowed. Way was falling off now. “Torpedo in the water!”
The call from the sonar operator galvanized everyone. “Right full rudder, all ahead flank,” Captain Kama ordered. “Come to a new heading zero nine zero. Deploy the torpedo decoys. Have the after turret open fire when their gun bears.”
The deck tilted steeply as the destroyer answered the helm.
“He’s turning eastward, Captain,” the attack team told Saratov, who was still on the bridge, his binoculars glued to his eyes. “I see that, goddamnit. What’s his speed?”
“Fourteen knots. His engines are really thrashing. I think he is accelerating.” The destroyer was almost beam-on now. Flashes from the gun on the afterdeck! Even with that tanker directly behind the submarine, he is shooting!
“Dive, dive, dive. Let’s go down.”
Saratov unplugged his headset. Hanecki was already going through the hatch. The deck was tilting. Saratov clamored through the hatch and pulled it down after him just as the first of the five-inch shells hit the water…, right beside the sail. “Periscope depth!”
“Periscope depth, aye.”
They could hear the shells splashing into the water. Damn, the shooting was accurate. “Running time on the first fish?”
“Thirty more seconds, sir.”
“Give me a ninety-degree right turn. Tell the torpedo officer to get a tube loaded with all possible speed.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Thank you, XO.”
They were just flat running out of options. He wasn’t ready to tell them yet, but if the last torpedo missed, he was going to surface the boat alongside the tanker and abandon her. He wasn’t going to let his men die in this sardine can when they had nothing left to fight with. He was thinking about this, watching the heading change as the boat turned, waiting for the boat to sink the last five feet to periscope depth, when he heard the explosion. The torpedo! It hit something. But what?
The men cheered. A roar of exultation. “Quiet!”
“Keep the turn in, Chief, make it a full three hundred and sixty degrees. All ahead one-third. Raise the big scope.”
He glued his eye to the large scope when it came out of the well. The small attack scope was nearly useless at night. The destroyer was still moving. At least the front half was. The stern … Jesus! The torpedo had blown it off. “The torpedo blew the ass off the destroyer,” Saratov said to the control room crew. “Pass the word. It is on fire and sinking.” When the whispers and buzzing died away, Saratov asked, “Sonar, what do you hear?”
“Not much, Captain. The ING tanker has started its engines. It will be getting under way soon, I think.”
“Let’s get out of here, Captain, while we are still alive.” The second officer said that. He looked pale as a ghost. Saratov looked from face to face. Several men averted their gaze; one chewed on his lip. Most met his gaze, however. The second officer couldn’t stop swallowing — he was probably going to puke. Saratov took the microphone for the boat’s PA system off its hook, flipped the switch on, adjusted the volume. “This is the captain. You men have done well. We have hit the enemy hard. We have destroyed a huge refinery, sunk three ships at least and damaged two more. We have just killed a destroyer that was trying to kill us. I am proud of each and every one of you. It is an honor to be your captain.”
He paused, took a deep breath, thought about what he wanted to say. “We are going to surface in a few moments, see if we can set this ING tanker on fire; then we are going to get out of this bay, run for the open sea.”
The second officer lost it, vomiting into his hat. “Do your job. Do what you were trained to do. That is our best chance.”
He put the microphone back into its bracket. “There’s another destroyer up there, Captain.”
“I am aware of that.” Saratov looked at the XO, lowered his voice. “Let’s leave the radar off. Without the radar beaconing, we are just another tiny blip.”
“As long as we keep our speed down,” Askold muttered. “Sonar, what’s the position on that second destroyer?”
“I estimate twenty thousand meters, Captain. It’s hard to tell for sure, with all the noise in the water.”
“Keep listening.”
“Do you want to finish reloading one of the bow tubes before we surface, Captain?” Askold asked. “The Japanese will put the time to better use than we can. Every gray boat they have will be strung across the bay’s entrance if we give them time enough.”
He raised his voice. “Sonar, leave the radar secured. No emissions.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Have the forward torpedo room break out the rockets. We will surface, blow the bow tanks. Pop the hatch
