D. M. Ulmer 01 - Silent Battleground (2 page)

The advent of nuclear power drastically changed submarine tactical operations.  Nuclear powered submarines are able to remain submerged

indefinitely, and unlike their diesel predecessors, perform best while submerged.  Soviet submarines would soon out-dive and outrun any anti-submarine warfare (ASW) weapon in the U.S. Navy inventory and were not vulnerable to the current search and locating equipment.

      The United States pioneered the development and deployment of nuclear submarines, and by 1972 produced the 688 Los Angeles class attack submarines that epitomized the state of the art in underwater warfare.  However, ensuring nuclear safety for this complex technical advance began to dilute the long-standing submariner importance on tactical excellence.  Officer personnel selected to man the new ships began to be chosen on the basis of academic standards rather than the traditional method of evaluating operational performance. 

In the meantime, the Soviet military chiefs became aware of the American progress with nuclear powered submarines via information obtained from John Anthony Walker, a U.S. citizen working as a spy for the Soviets.  From this information, the Soviets realized they must reduce submarine radiated noise levels or risk annihilation of their undersea fleet.  Then through the illegal sales of propeller milling technology by the Japanese firm Toshiba and the Norwegian firm Kongsberg, the Soviets made great strides perfecting their
Akula
class submarine design and began building their new underwater armada.

All during those troubled years after World War II, the Americans and the Soviets agreed in principle to resolve their differences using diplomacy to bring about peace.  As charter members of the United Nations, they met often to do so, but failure after failure made things worse.  During the Kennedy presidency in 1962, the two adversaries came the closest to all out war with what is now known as the Cuban Missile Crisis.  The situation took a long time to de-escalate because even though the Soviets conceded to arming Cuba with missiles, they continued to push their ideology elsewhere for world domination.

Two years after being elected as the President of the United States Andrew J. Dempsey ended diplomatic relations with the Soviet Premier saying he would only return to the negotiating table after the Soviets made serious gestures toward peace.  He did so without the expressed approval of the United States Congress.

Silent Battleground
opens at this juncture in history.

Silent Battleground

Chapter 1

Neither ship nor man is intended to be comfortable during a United States Navy shipyard overhaul.  The vessels are dry-docked where they are deprived of the seaborne grace and agility as intended by their designers. They rest on huge keel blocks with sides ripped open and vital organs exposed for repair and maintenance.

      Man, too, is equally out of his element here.  The environment is noisy, dangerous and unforgiving of careless acts.  In wintertime, no amount of clothing provides adequate protection from the incessant, penetrating cold.  Little has changed in the industry since the first Continental Navy, so named before it became the United States Navy, laid up wooden ships for overhaul in the shipyards in New England.

      During one blustery winter day, the USS
Denver
, a SSN 688 class nuclear attack submarine, rested in dry dock basin Number Five in the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard in Bremerton, Washington.  Several openings in the ship’s bottom, designed for the rapid influx of seawater, allowed workmen access points of entry to do repairs on the hull.  As evening descended, the huge, sleek black hull glistened in a cold rain that began falling in the early afternoon.  Reflections from the welders’ torches made sharp points of light over
Denver
’s entire length.

      Beneath the hull, two civilian yard workers, an older inspector and his young assistant, warmed their hands around mugs of black coffee drawn from a thermos.

      The younger man spoke.  “If I’ve been in any colder places, Darby, I sure as hell can’t remember where.”

      “Well, at least half the job’s behind us,” replied Darby Cameron, a veteran inspector of submarine ordnance systems, having worked at the yard ten years before his assistant was born.

      After completing inspection of the starboard side torpedo launcher ejection pump and reinstalling the inspection plates Cameron said, “We’ll take a little break here. Not much warmer than outside, but it keeps us out of the drizzle.”

      “Sounds good to me,” the youngster replied.  “Rain’s made a mess of this damn sandblast grit,” referring to the spent material blasted with a high-pressure air hose to remove the loose paint and accumulated rust on
Denver
’s under-hull.

      The young man looked up at the long narrow concrete stairway leading to the dry dock’s upper rim and continued, “I got mud in my shoes and climbing outta here is gonna blister my feet some, not to mention it’s gonna be treacherous underfoot on the way out.”

      “Shift’s nearly over,” Darby said. “We better get started if we expect to get the port side done.”

      Darby shared his assistant’s lack of enthusiasm for climbing back into the near frigid bowels of
Denver
’s hull.  This required a difficult entry through the main ballast tank flood ports at the keel line and then through a maze of stiffeners and dividers just to reach the inspection plates.

      The young helper asked, “Will the fasteners be as tough to get off as the other side?”

      “Afraid so,” Darby replied. “They’re always exposed to seawater so that’s what happens to ’em.”

      “We won’t be able to talk in there, Darby.  Riggers in the other tank are making too much noise with their knuckle busters,” the young man said, referring to the pneumatic chippers used to remove paint and rust.  “Damn, that noise is nerve-wracking.  Why don’t we just
gun deck
this one?  We’ve seen a hundred of these shafts and never found a sign of wear yet.”

      Gun decking is a Navy term for entering a job as completed into a record without performing the actual work and Darby knew it was the wrong thing to do.  He paused for a moment, thinking about a double shot of bourbon and the warmth in Helmsman’s Tavern nearby.

      The desire for a drink and a place to get warm persuaded Darby’s better judgment so he said, “Okay, let’s go.”

      Both men gathered up their tool bags and left, Darby in anticipation of breaking his body chill with a nice stiff drink while the younger man hoped the new secretary from the shipyard commander’s office would drop by Helmsman’s on her way home.

***

      Months later as spring and winter battled back and forth for control over the Pacific Northwest, the nuclear submarine USS
Denver
plowed westward through huge swells from the north Pacific while in the Strait of Juan de Fuca approach to Puget Sound.  Reaching the ocean, the crew began conducting sea trials to validate the work performed during her overhaul at Bremerton.  As usual, far too many tests were jammed into an overly ambitious work schedule, leaving no slack time to correct inevitable problems.

      Success-oriented people, despite their repeated experience to the contrary, scheduled no time for emergencies or other inherent problems while conducting a sea trial.  Time needed to deal with emergencies or to correct other problems came at the expense of off duty time for both the crew and the civilian yard workers embarked for the trials.  The yard workers rode in submarines during trial cruises to assist with repairs as needed, thus providing a psychological insurance against shoddy workmanship.

      If a disaster occurred causing the loss of life, the civilians would be on the casualty list, as in April 1963 when the nuclear submarine USS
Thresher
sank during deep-sea trials in the North Atlantic.  Seventeen civilians lost their lives along with all Naval personnel aboard, 16 officers and 96 enlisted men.

      Preliminary tests for hull leaks and proper operation of retractable masts, antennae and periscopes on the USS
Denver
were conducted in shallow water.  In the unlikely event of a major problem, personnel aboard had a better chance of being rescued.  So far on this sea trial some minor problems had occurred, but none with the potential to extend
Denver’s
stay at Bremerton.

      Aboard a submarine, the conning officer coordinates all trials from the submarine’s Attack Center. This assignment went to Lieutenant Brent Maddock because he had the longest tenure among
Denver’s
junior officers.  He also got the job because he stood well above his peers in command presence.  Navy lean, Brent had bright blue eyes, stood five-eleven with a medium build at one hundred seventy pounds.

      At the termination of a shallow dive, Brent reported over the 21MC tactical intercom. “Wardroom, Conn.  Pass to the captain, shallow dive completed, en route the deep dive area, ahead standard on course two-seven-five at two hundred feet.”

      Captain Hal Bostwick answered, “Captain, aye, Conn. Everything go okay?”

      “Perfect, Captain.”

      “Very well, Brent, let me know when you have an ETA worked out,” said Captain Bostwick, referring to the estimated time of arrival.

      “Aye, sir,” said Brent.  Next, on the 21MC again, he called the engineering officer of the watch in control of the ship’s propulsion.  “Maneuvering, Conn.  All shallow depth tests completed satisfactorily.  We’re moving out for the big one.”

      “Maneuvering, aye,” the EOOW responded.

      Brent ordered the helmsman, “Right full rudder.  Come to new course two-seven-five, belay the headings.”

      “Right full rudder to two-seven-five, belay the headings.  Aye, Mr. Maddock.”

      To the planesman, Brent announced, “Make your depth two-zero-zero feet, no more than five degrees down bubble.”

      An oil filled clear circular tube with a bubble inside indicated the longitudinal angle of the submarine’s hull.

      “Two-zero-zero, no more than five down.  Aye, sir.”

      “Ahead standard,” Brent ordered.

      He enjoyed having 3,640 tons of the world’s most advanced undersea technology obey him. 
Denver
’s heading fell off to the right and she pitched downward in response to Brent’s directions.  He barely heard the chum, chum, chum as the huge propeller bit into the seawater and increased
Denver’s
velocity through the ocean depths.

      Denver
quickly restored herself internally to cruise status.  The odor of clean hydraulic oil now masked the stench of burned metal created by many arc-welding jobs completed during the overhaul on land.  The rattle-bang of the yard left far behind, background sounds consisted only of muffled conversations among the crew and yard workers going about testing
Denver’
s seaworthiness to the constant hum of rotating machinery. 

      Submariners survive through their knowledge of sounds made by their ship.  Quick detection of any abnormalities, a flat bearing, lack of lubrication, or unexplained changes in a rotation rate often prevented extensive repairs and on occasion, disaster itself.

      Quartermaster Second Class Jacques Henri, a handsome young black man, carefully wrote Brent’s flurry of instructions into the log, an official record of each event that took place aboard
Denver
.  The log began at
Denver’s
commissioning ceremony and would continue until her retirement, scheduled some twenty-five years in the future.

      Henri believed the sole difference between him and the officers he served was three hundred years of injustice inflicted by whites that mistakenly considered themselves superior. Henri made this point through excellent performance and spurned what he considered liberal bleeding heart programs to correct past indiscretions.

      His uniforms always appeared impeccable and while the others capitalized on the informality of sea trials and dressed for comfort, Jacques maintained his dungarees in accordance with regulations and fresh from the laundry.  Well-shined shoes rounded out his meticulous appearance.

      Henri made it his business to know the details of the Attack Center watch better than any of the ship’s officers.  He felt it beneath his dignity to do just better than an average officer; he had to excel.  As the quartermaster gang’s leading petty officer, he made the Attack Center quartermaster-of-the-watch assignments.  By his own choice, he put himself on watch with Lieutenant Maddock, who he regarded to be the sharpest officer on board and a worthy challenge.

      With a deep basso tone Henri announced, “Personnel not on watch in the Attack Center clear the area,” a presumptuous order for him to initiate because the prerogative of command belonged to the conning officer.

      Brent took it in stride and let it slip, perhaps because of the relaxed atmosphere aboard during sea trials. Brent, unlike the other conning officers, admired Henri.  The others resented being upstaged by the young outspoken enlisted man, especially in the presence of Captain Bostwick, however, Brent’s self-confidence permitted him to see the value of being backed up by a competent subordinate.

      The helmsman reported, “Steady, two-seven-five.”

      Denver
headed for the next sea trial in the best possible hands.

      Until now, deep dive results exceeded all that could be hoped for and a
rigorous test program maintained its schedule.  The few minor discrepancies encountered would not delay the final departure from the yard and there would be ample time for farewell visits to Helmsman’s Tavern prior to leaving for San Diego.

      The crew felt exhausted when
Denver
prepared for her final deep dive event, firing seawater slugs at maximum depth to test the torpedo tubes with full launch pressure.  Captain Bostwick anticipated a routine test and left Lieutenant Daniel Patrick in charge.