“I think both Russia and Japan are up against the wall. The war is out of control. Something is going to happen in the very near future.”
Four hours after the conference in the control room Admiral Kolchak was in position. Barely making steerage way, about a knot, just enough to keep the planes effective, she was headed northwest toward the strait that led to Sagami Bay. Five ships had gone overhead, freighters from the sound, going to and from the bay. War or no war, the wheels of commerce continued to turn. From his stool outside the sonar shack, Pavel Saratov could see the chart. Actually, he was looking almost over the navigator’s shoulder, so he could also see the measurements, the lines, the tiny triangles. The sub was actually approaching the destroyer’s racetrack from a forty-five-degree angle. The screw noise would be the loudest when the destroyer was going away from the sub. The torpedo would home on that noise. One hit with these giant ship-killers should be enough. The trick was to get the hit. Saratov had been sitting on this stool, listening to the sounds, trying to hear another submarine, for the last five hours. Amazingly, he wasn’t a bit tired. He was too keyed up. He had to have a plan for every contingency. Askold had briefed the torpedomen and engineers, ensured everyone knew what was expected and was ready to do it without hesitation. Sometime during this hustle and bustle, Michman Martos eased his head into the control room, looked around, made eye contact with the captain, then left. Two hours ago, Saratov had conferred with Esenin. “How accurate is the GPS?” Esenin asked. “For the best accuracy, we should surface and let the equipment get a position update from the satellites. It is within a few meters now, however.”
“That will have to do,” Esenin said with a frown. “Yes.”
“When we get to the fault, I will have my men ready.”
“Are they experienced divers?”
“They know what they have to do, believe me. I am going out first.”
“Whatever.”
“You have a Spetsnaz diver aboard.”
“We do. Michman Martos.”
“I have had a talk with him. I do not think he is politically reliable.”
“It’s been a few years since I heard that phrase.”
“You know what I mean. I need men I can trust.”
“To the best of my knowledge, he didn’t volunteer. I do not want any clouds on the man’s professional ability, General. He is highly trained, experienced, and up for a medal for his service during the Yokosuka refinery attack. He deserves the honor.”
“No doubt he does,” Esenin said, then went on to another subject. Now that conversation seemed as if it had taken place in another lifetime. Now there was only the boat, swimming gently forward amid the screw noises and the sounds of the sea. And the pinging: ping…, ping … ping … Saratov sat with his eyes closed, listening intently to the orchestra. There were other submarines nearby. Saratov could feel them. “We shoot in five minutes, Captain,” said the XO. Esenin was rolling dice with the lives of every man on the boat. He wanted to set off four nuclear devices, to murder tens of millions of people. Even if the four blasts were insufficient to create a tsunami, the fireballs would broach the surface, fry coastal villages, create horrible tides that would inundate vast areas. Detonating these devices near the mouth of Tokyo Bay — perhaps Esenin would get a tidal race going back up the bay after the initial surge out of the bay, toward the blast area. “Three minutes, Captain.”
He could hear the destroyer, powerful screws, turning … This was the closest point of approach, four miles. If it didn’t detect Admiral Kolchak now, the submarine would get its shot. Esenin didn’t seem to understand that if you nuke them, you have made it easier for someone to nuke you. Probably he thought that aspect of the matter was Kalugin’s problem. The people in Moscow. In the Kremlin. Those people. The destroyer was still turning. The pitch of the screw noises changed as the aspect angle changed. “Two minutes.”
“Are we ready?”
“Yes sir.”
“Sonar, have you heard anything?”
“No, sir.”
“One minute.”
The destroyer was steady on its new course, angling away from Admiral Kolchak. It was doing about ten knots, making a mile every six minutes. The submarine was making one nautical mile per hour, so it was essentially dead in the water, screws barely turning over, every nonessential electrical unit off. Even the boat’s ventilation fans were off. “Fire tube one.”
Saratov heard the blast of compressed air that ejected the torpedo from the tube and then heard its screws bite into the sea. He had taken the precaution of turning down the volume on his earphones, which was a good thing. The torpedo was not quiet. As the screw noises faded, he slowly twisted the volume knob back to maximum sensitivity. The running time for this fish was six and a half minutes. Presumably the sonar operator aboard the destroyer would pick up the sound of the inbound torpedo and report it to the captain, who would probably order the launch of acoustic decoys. If the ship’s company was competent, the decoys would be in the water in plenty of time. In fact, they might even be launched early. Saratov took off the sonar headset, eyed the clock as the second hand ticked off a full minute since the first fish went into the water. “Fire tube two.”
Perhaps the second torpedo would arrive unexpectedly. After the second fish was launched, he fought the urge to kick the boat to flank speed and go charging past this destroyer, which he hoped would soon be very busy. The risk was too great. Saratov did, however, order up five knots and changed course sixty degrees to the right to clear the area where the torpedoes were launched. A competent anti-submarine commander would have a helicopter in this area dipping a sonar as soon as possible.
Saratov turned sixty degrees to starboard after launching his torpedoes because that course was the most direct one into Sagami Bay. What he didn’t know was that this course, chosen for good reason, pointed Admiral Kolchak directly at the Japanese submarine Akashi. The sonar operator aboard Akashi heard the torpedoes and reported them. “High-speed screws, two one zero degrees relative.”
“How far?”
“Several miles, sir,” the operator said. Unfortunately, there was no way he or his captain could instantly determine the target of the torpedoes. Given enough time, any right or left drift in the relative bearing would become apparent. If there was none, the torpedoes were on a collision course. Time was what was needed, and the captain didn’t have any to spare. If torpedoes were aimed at him, he should locate the enemy with active sonar, fire a torpedo in reply, launch decoys, and try to evade the incoming fish. If, on the other hand, the torpedoes were aimed at the beacon destroyer, giving away his submarine’s position by the use of active sonar was not immediately necessary. Nor was it advisable. The captain was well aware of the long-range capabilities of Russian twenty-one- inch torpedoes, and this factor helped tilt the decision. The shooting had started — his ship was in harm’s way — he didn’t want to waste time waiting for bearing drift that he thought probably was not there. On the other hand, there were two freighters on the surface nearby. The government refused to close this area to civilian shipping. Before he launched a torpedo the captain had to be sure of his target. “Start pinging,” he told the sonar operator. “Flood tubes one and two and open the outer doors.” To the officer of the day, he said, “Come left sixty degrees and give me flank speed.”
The ping of the active sonar raced through the water, and just behind it the noise of the submarine’s twin screws thrashing as they bit into the water to accelerate the submarine. Aboard Admiral Kolchak, Saratov and the sonarman both heard the ping and screw noises. “Quick,” Saratov said to the sonarman. “A bearing.”
“Zero one zero relative, Captain. A submarine.”
“Set tube three on acoustic homing.”
“Tube three set acoustic.”
“Ten degrees right bearing.”
“Ten degrees right bearing set.”
“Fire tube three.”
“Tube three fired, Captain.”
Both the sonar operators aboard Harukaze, the Japanese destroyer manning the picket station between Oshima Island and the Tateyama Peninsula, the eastern entrance of Sagami Bay, heard the unmistakable sound of small high-speed screws when the first of Admiral Kolchak’s torpedoes was still four minutes away from the destroyer. Their computers verified what their ears were telling them: torpedoes. They immediately reported the screw noises and the bearing to their superior, the tactical action officer in Combat, who reported it to the bridge on
