D. M. Ulmer 01 - Silent Battleground (22 page)

Dan grinned as the tape rendered
Hungry Eyes.
  “Shush, no talking in church.  Damn that tune turns me on.  Did you watch Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey do this scene in the movie?  Or had you fallen asleep by then?”

“Missed the flick.  We’re divided up into
doers
and
watchers
.  I fall into the former category.”

“Maybe so, Brent, but in my book, just watching them is enough doing for me.  Anything new on the watch?”

“No.  We’re barreling ass toward the op-area.  The engineers did a great job on the patch.  No indication on the noise level monitor all the way to full speed.  It sure is a relief to be back in deepwater.  We need it for acoustic advantage if we expect to find anybody and I sure as hell hope that’s why we came out here.”

“Ah, mad … mad is the warrior.  Pardon me if I reject this opportunity and continue to indulge in prewar decadence.”

Brent wondered,
Is Dan right?
 
Am I really so wrapped around the tactics axle I can’t do anything else? 
Brent tried to make conversation by asking, “What do you plan to do when it’s over, Dan?  The war, I mean.”

“Guess that depends on who wins.”

“Us, of course.  If we don’t, what the hell does it matter anyway?”

“See how easy it is to fish you in, Brent.  Why don’t you back off a fathom or two?  Maybe some problems would go away if you opened up a bit.  But first, let me answer your question.  I really
don’t know.  I’ve given the Navy a fair shot but really don’t think it’s my bag.  The law has appeal and maybe politics.  How about you?”

“Looks like it will be something other than the Navy.  The pasting I’ll get from Bostwick will put those lights out.”

Dan used a comforting tone knowing how much Brent loved the Navy.  “Might not be all that bad.  Maybe Bostwick’s all bark and no bite.  The patrol’s been successful enough for the Captain to blow his horn.  To complete the picture, he’s gotta drag us along with him.  I hear Woody’s nominated for a Navy Cross.”

Brent asked, “What about the others?”

“Silver Stars for Henri and Barnes and Bronze Stars for the others, including posthumous awards for the casualties.  Can’t believe anything short of a Silver for you with all you’ve done.”  Dan did not believe this but felt it would sit well with his friend.  “The Navy means a great deal to you, doesn’t it, Brent?”

“I owe it just about everything.”

Dan responded with a question.  “No big family
shoes in need of filling?”

“Not really.  My father died ten years ago.”

“What did he do?”

“Worked.”

Dan had long noticed Brent’s reluctance to talk about himself.  “I don’t mean to pry, but it’s sure hard to get anything out of you.  We’ve known each other for two and half years and I don’t even know where you grew up.  You oughta let me in on what matters to you.  Example.  You come down here every night to learn about classical music, but never ask any of us about it.  Woody’s damn near an authority on the subject.  He’d be happy if you’d ask him.”

“I don’t know about all that.”  Brent remained silent a moment then finding the situation awkward; he groped for the right words.  “But your friendship is very important to me, Dan, especially
right
now.”

“I won’t push it, Brent.  You’re a big boy.  Maybe a little softening up might help your case with the Old Man.”

Brent looked at his friend and spoke sincerely, “Thanks, buddy.”

Dave Zane looked up from his desk and out the window of his shack-turned-office.  He caught the forms of Gerry Carter and another man climbing aboard the barge that supported the repair facility offices.

Must be the new man to lead the Newport reduction gear repair effort.

Carter and the newcomer entered the office. 

Gerry said, “Dave Zane, meet Darby Cameron.”

Chapter 12

Eric Danis thought,
He sure is a teacher,
during his interview with Commander Jim Buchanan, USN, the new prospective commander of
Denver
.  He had initially discovered Buchanan’s knack for building student confidence by reading records of his past assignments at the United States Navy Submarine School.  Danis hoped the command change would restore the morale of
Denver’s
officers, who he believed to chafe under Captain Bostwick’s bit.

Danis asked, “I’m trying to recall.  Did our paths ever cross?”

The new man spoke with a trace of New England twang.  “They did, Commodore, though I’d be surprised if you remembered me.  You were exec on board the tender in Holy Loch in seventy-nine when I was
on a Boomer.  My first assignment out of sub school.”

“Well, I’m sure if I thought about it, I’d fit you into some of the great memories I have of that wonderful place.”

Jim Buchanan’s face brightened as he remembered.  “It is nice there.  My wife met me after a patrol in the summer of eighty.  We spent two weeks together and had a wonderful time.”

“Eve and I loved it there too.  We managed to get a few beautiful weekends in the West Highlands.  It’s easy to see why the Scots have such passion for their land.”

“Sir, this is my first visit to the Pacific Northwest and it reminds me very much of Scotland.  It’s rustic and untamed by comparison to the rest of the country.  Don’t you think so, sir?”

“Now that you mention it, Jim, I do see the resemblance.  But we have a ways to go to fully measure up.”

Jim agreed, “Quite a way if we’re to match the Scottish cost of living.  But we do have a start, don’t we, sir?”

“That we do, Jim, that we do.”  Then getting down to business, Eric continued, “You’re getting a helluva fine ship with
Denver
.  As you probably
know, they’re just out of overhaul and in pretty good shape.  Only
problem is they’re in WestPac and not due back for a month.”

“Well let’s hope it’s with a few scalps in her belt.  We need some good news for a change.  In the meantime, sir, I have no illusions about the future commanding officer bit.  Please put me to work wherever there’s a hole I can fill.  I’ve been sitting on my duff at submarine school the past three years and I’m ready to put my hands back on some hardware, even if it’s a knuckle-buster.  You’ve worked a miracle out here and I want to be part of it.  Just give me a steer and I’m off.”

“I appreciate your attitude, Jim.  I understand you taught in the Tactics Department at sub school.  I’d like you to review our weapons overhaul setup and then give some thought to an ASW defense scheme we’ve worked up.  Lieutenant Commander Dutch Meyer runs both operations and can use the help.”

Jim laughed then said, “Not the same Dutch Meyer from Holy Loch.  That turkey was
a lieutenant when I first showed up as a JG.  He ran my ass all over the tender.  I probably
needed it, but don’t tell him that now that I rank him.”

Danis said with mock caution, “Well don’t be too hard on him.”

“Nobody in the whole Navy could be tough on Dutch.  It’ll be a pleasure working with him again.”

“Now, about quarters.  I’m spending my evenings at home ashore and you’re welcome to these.”

Jim smiled, showing his appreciation for the offer.  Quite tempting, but an established custom of the service is that generous offers by high-ranking officers are expected, but always politely declined.

“I’m afraid I might get too used to this.  Thank you, sir, but I’ll find a place to stash the bones.”

“Well then,” Danis replied, “Welcome to the
Pitstop
.  It’s good to have you here.”

“It’s damn good to be here, sir.”

At battle stations aboard USS
Denver
, Captain Bostwick ordered, “Give me the course for a thirty degree lead,” as they closed upon the first big game of the patrol, an
Alfa
class submarine.

Brent thought,
Damn it.  The typical attack trainer solution.  When the hell will Bostwick realize this is not a drill to be graded by the Squadron Commander and cited in his next fitness report?  This is war and for all the marbles.
 
“Recommend point the target with no lead, Captain.  He’s too close to worry about torpedo run.  This’ll reduce his chance of hearing us and we can shoot into his baffles.”

Captain Bostwick did not respond immediately, but after a moment, he ordered, “Rudder amidships, steady.”

The helmsman responded with, “Amidships, steady two-three-five, Captain.”

Bostwick gave progressive rudder orders which kept
Denver’
s bow in a tight point on the target as it rumbled by to the West, not more than a mile away.

Brent thought
, Those arrogant bastards.  They’re making fifteen knots and more noise than a sea bag full of broken dishes. 
He learned during earlier surveillance operations they could be much quieter at those speeds. 
Maybe it exceeds the Alfa Soviet comprehension that a U.S. submarine could reach this position undetected
.

“Tubes one and two fully
ready, Captain,” reported Brent.  “Presets entered and matched,” having already advised the skipper but believed he needed a subtle reminder.

“Want to be sure he’s beyond enable range before we shoot.”

The executive officer said, “Target speed fifteen, Captain.  That’s 500 yards every sixty seconds.”

Even the XO wants to shoot now
, Brent thought. 
This guy can accelerate and go fast, maybe more than fifty knots.  Wait too long and an ADCAP will have a helluva time catching up.

A minute went by.  Two minutes.  Brent could stand it no more.  “Recommend shoot, Captain.”

The captain continued with Attack Teacher doctrine.  “Match bearings and shoot.”

Brent reasoned,
With the target twenty-five hundred yards away, matching bearings takes valuable time and adds nothing to success probability.
  He disregarded Bostwick’s command and quickly ordered, “Fire one!”

The ACC operator activated the launch key.

Sonar reported, “ADCAP running on the bearing and masking target, Conn.”

The captain asked, “Doppler enable in?”

Brent replied, “In sir.  We have wire continuity.” 

Denver
continued to communicate with the weapon as it sped toward the target.  The display on the MK 81 console presented a chart of the attack area in miniature.  It included
Denver
’s, the target’s and the torpedo’s positions, continuously
upgraded.  All eyes, except the ever-wary Brent’s, focused on the console.  He scanned other visual indicators in the Attack Center, particularly
those transmitted from sonar.

First, it appeared as a flicker, a transient in submarine jargon on the Acoustic Intercept Receiver display.  The second flicker damn sure wasn’t a transient and the third one confirmed it. 

The calm sound of Brent’s voice did not reflect the churning in the pit of his stomach as he announced, “Inbound torpedo in the water, not ours.”

Fear on Bostwick’s face and in his voice, he asked, “Where?” 

“No bearing, Captain,” then Brent ordered, “Ahead flank, left full rudder.  Torpedo’s gotta be coming from the target.  There it is on the AIR, sir.  I’m launching a countermeasure.  Torpedo Room, flood and release ETC (Electronic Torpedo Countermeasure).”

A minute after Brent’s assessment Sonar’s report came.  “Inbound torpedo, Conn, bearing three-five-five.”

Brent advised, “Captain, we’ve gotta go deep enough to suppress cavitation at evasion speed.  About a hundred above test will do it.”

Bostwick repeated the order to Chief Cunningham who quickly
executed it. 
Denver’
s hull nudged downward and rolled slightly
away from the turn as the ship accelerated to maximum speed.

The Torpedo Room watch reported, “ETC away.”

Brent had taken charge even though not on watch and ordered the helmsman, “Steady two-seven-zero.”

This angered Bostwick, but fear kept him from overruling his young nemesis.

The helmsman’s voice cracked slightly, showing an edge of fear as he repeated, “Two-seven-zero, aye,” and not alone among the crew, grateful knowing that Mr. Maddock had taken the reins.

Brent demanded, “Bearing to the inbound.”

Sonar responded, “Zero-zero-five.”

Forcing a relief sound into his voice, Brent said, “We’re gaining bearing on it.  It hears the ETC and is heading that way.”

Bostwick finally
spoke.  “Classification on the unit, Sonar.”

“We’re working it, sir.”

Brent wanted to know the target’s maneuver and how it avoided the ADCAP.  Noise from the inbound torpedo masked the
Alfa
and made it impossible to assess the tactical situation.  The Soviet weapon grew closer and the
ping-ping-ping
of its active search could now be heard.  Stern faces stared at the AIR display.  Abruptly,
the interval between pings shortened.

Dan Patrick exclaimed, “Oh shit!  It’s acquired us!”

With an emphatic tone, Brent declared, “No!  Too far away.  It acquired the ETC and attacking there.”

Bostwick demanded, “You sure?”

Brent thought,
What the hell difference does it make if I’m wrong
?
 We’re dead if it gets us and there’s nothing we can do about it anyway.
 Brent considered this
a good time to let Bostwick resume charge and save some face. 
Get him involved. 
“Captain, recommend ride the cavitation curve to one fifty feet, sir.  We’ve got a strong thermal layer at two hundred.  Suggest we put it between us and the weapon.”

The captain ordered, “Make your depth at one-five-zero, chief.  Ahead two thirds.”

“Need a bearing to the target and our ADCAP when we can get it, Captain.  Should be around zero-one-five.”

This time, Bostwick did not respond.

The Sonar operator announced, “Best make on the unit is an ET-80 A.  Getting fainter.”

All in the Attack Center breathed a sigh of relief.  Perspiration soaked the backs of patrol shirts and glistened on each brow.