Echo Class (34 page)

Bocharkov was surprised. Tverdokhleb did not strike him as an officer who understood underwater tactics. Keeping close to shoal waters—without running aground—might confuse an active-duty sonar ping. The ping would get the submarine, but it would get the rocks and debris behind the submarine also.

“Cubi Point,” Bocharkov said aloud.

“Sir?” Orlov asked.

“Cubi Point is the American airfield off our port bow. It also has shoal waters running alongside it.” Bocharkov looked at the bulkhead clock. “Change course to two-zero-zero at time zero three seventeen.”

Orlov looked at the log keeper and saw the young starshina notating the entry.

 

 

“SIR,
the contact is moving,” Oliver reported.

“Course, speed, direction?” Burkeet asked, his words running together.

“I have a right-bearing drift, sir. I have cavitations in the water. Slow speed, but he's moving, sir.”

Burkeet grabbed the sound-powered handset from its cradle and relayed the information to both Combat and the bridge.

 

 

ON
the bridge, MacDonald reseated the handset. “Lieutenant Goldstein, are you ready to assume the deck?”

Goldstein saluted. “Yes, sir, I am. We are on course one-seven-zero, speed two knots, and are at general quarters. Admiral Green is embarked—”

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” MacDonald interrupted. He lifted his head slightly. “This is the Captain. Lieutenant Goldstein has the deck.”

“This is Lieutenant Goldstein! I have the deck!”

At the navigation table, the quartermaster of the watch wrote into the logbook the time at which the captain transferred the bridge to Goldstein.

“Any directions, sir?” Goldstein asked.

“I'm going to Combat. Be prepared for course and speed changes, but you are not to exceed six knots without my direct orders.” MacDonald looked at Green. “Admiral, would you care to join me?”

“
Would I care to join you?
Why, Captain MacDonald, thank you for asking.”

Crossing the bridge toward the hatch leading to Combat, Admiral Green handed his empty cup back to the boatswain mate of the watch. “Good coffee, Boats.”

“Captain off the bridge!” Boatswain Mate Manny Lowe shouted as MacDonald followed the admiral through the watertight hatch. At the plotting table the duty quartermaster glanced at the clock on the bulkhead and notated the time when the captain left the bridge as 3:21. He also notated Admiral Green's departure.

 

 

“WHAT
you got?” MacDonald asked Burkeet. Joe Tucker stood to the right of the officer, the XO's head more inside Sonar than in Combat, where the others stood.

“Oliver has the submarine on a left-to-right drift, sir. Not a lot of speed, but looks to me as if he's trying to head to open water.”

“Have we reestablished comms with
Coghlan
?”

“No, sir, not yet, but Radio says they are working with
Coghlan
's radio shack. They expect to have it soon.”

“Tell Radio to work faster.”

“Aye, sir.” Burkeet nodded at Stalzer, who relayed the useless order. The issue was seeding the cryptographic cards into the readers. Those cards were the key to secure communications and required two-person control at all times. The communications officer, Lieutenant Junior Grade Alton Taylor, and Radioman Chief Petty Officer Bob Caldwell had just opened the safe that held the cryptographic material. They would have to audit the open package, select the material for today, and then sign for its use. On the other end a curt Chief Caldwell told Stalzer to “eat shit and die,” that they were working as fast as they could.

Stalzer put the handset back in its cradle. “Chief Caldwell said only a few more minutes.”

MacDonald looked at Joe Tucker. “XO, see what you can do.”

Joe Tucker stepped through the nearby aft hatch, heading toward Radio.

MacDonald turned to Green. “Sir, recommendations?”

“Well, Danny, what do you recommend? Do we want to stop him from reaching open waters, or do we want to startle him to the surface here?” The admiral pointed toward the bow of the ship, hidden by the bulkhead that separated Combat from the bridge.

MacDonald's eyebrows furrowed into a deep “V.” He took a deep breath. “I would say chase him, get near him, and let him know we know he is here.”

Joe Tucker was back through the hatch. “A few more minutes and they will have comms with
Coghlan
.”

Both MacDonald and Green nodded. Green turned back to MacDonald. “No weapons. If he surfaces, then it will be a coup for us in the world's press. The Philippine government will be furious; other Asian countries will be rushing out to check their harbors.” Green nodded again, biting his lower lip for a moment, before a big smile spread across his face. “But we don't attack him.” Then, after a slight pause, he added, “Damn it.”

Burnham walked up to the officers. “Sir, just double-checked with Subic Operations Center. They're saying they're working to give the all clear for us to commence pinging.”

“Would the Russians consider pinging them an act of war?” Green asked.

MacDonald nodded. “They could. If they know what we know is going to happen in the next few hours.”

Green guffawed. “Oh, Danny, you are funny sometimes. No one knows what we know.”

MacDonald felt his face turning red.
You don't know what you don't know
was something a previous skipper of his used to say whenever someone was emphatic about something.
You don't know what you don't know.

“But if they do know, Admiral, then they may be concerned we are going to sortie right by Vietnamese water and continue—”

“You may be right, Danny,” Green interrupted, biting his lower lip. “If the only reason the Soviets have been this brazen is because of what the Israelis may be planning, then . . .” Green's voice trailed off. A second or two passed before he continued, his voice serious, “Jesus Christ, Danny. Guess even us admirals get a little arrogant about our own wars, don't we? So wrapped up here I missed the global picture—forgot about how the Soviets view everything.”

“Yes, sir,” MacDonald said, wondering what the admiral was talking about. “But we haven't heard anything definite. Maybe the intelligence is off. Maybe the Israelis are not going to attack.”

“Don't agree when I'm berating myself, Captain. Admirals are always right, even when they are wrong.”

“Should we relay this information to Subic Operations Center, sir?”

Green did not answer the question. He glanced around at fully manned Combat, then back at MacDonald. “They were spying on us for a lot more than our war. Maybe they are here to pull a Pearl Harbor on us, fire an array of torpedoes.”

“Sir, I would think they wouldn't have enough torpedoes. . . .” One moment Green had discounted the Soviet submarine attacking and the next moment his pendulum of thought had spun to the other end.

“Didn't you report two submarines on the surface?”

MacDonald acknowledged the report. Joe Tucker had stepped away from Sonar and was listening to the admiral.

“There is another scenario we have to consider, Danny.”

MacDonald felt a shiver up his spine as intrinsically he reached the same conclusion. “The other submarine could be outside the port—preparing to launch cruise missiles simultaneously with this submarine's torpedoes.”

Green clapped his hands. “Right!” With a sigh, he added, “Don't you hate it when great minds think alike?”

“We don't know that for sure,” Burnham said sharply. “We don't know they are about to attack us, sir.” He looked at MacDonald. “Skipper, I hope we aren't planning on attacking—”

“I believe, what Lieutenant Burnham is saying—” Joe Tucker interjected.

Green motioned downward, shaking his head. “It's a worst case scenario, gentlemen. We never want to think America is ever going to suffer another Pearl Harbor. Subic Bay is not another Pearl Harbor, unless the Soviets have submarines off Pearl Harbor, San Diego, and Norfolk, Virginia. But if we prepare for the worst, then we won't be disappointed or surprised.” He looked at Burnham. “Well, Lieutenant, do you think we should call ‘Big Apple'?”

Big Apple was the code word for everyone to prepare for an imminent attack—a surprise attack, a missiles-in-the-air, inbound type of attack. Everyone tied up ashore, who had steam available, would immediately get under way. The open ocean was the destination, for warships are meant to fight on the seas, not tied up pierside.

Burnham shook his head. “Admiral, we'd have a mess on our hands trying to pursue this fellow and maneuver around a bunch of ships trying to reach the ocean.”

“By the time the ships got under way, we would have settled with the submarine,” MacDonald said.

“I agree.” Green looked at Burnham. “Tell Subic Operations Center we need ASW aircraft outside Subic Bay. Tell them there might be a second Soviet submarine out there on the surface.” He looked at MacDonald. “That should get the airdales' rocks off.”

Burnham hurried away from the admiral and MacDonald.

Green looked at MacDonald. “Put the
Coghlan
ahead of the submarine—between it and the open ocean, but keep the other destroyer to your west also. Meanwhile, Danny, let's make sure we keep the
Dale
within firing distance for your over-the-side torpedoes.” He looked at Burkeet and Joe Tucker. “Tell your Sonar if they hear something they even think is the opening of the outer doors of that submarine's torpedo tubes, I want to know.”

“Aye, sir. I would like to be able to use active sonar if they open their torpedo tubes.”

“Permission granted.” Green looked at the man. “In war, we don't wait for permission from those ashore.”

“We have secure comms with the
Coghlan
,” Burkeet said from the entrance to Sonar.

 

 

IGNATOVA
stepped into the control room as the sonar operator turned to Orlov.

“Sir, I have the contact to our starboard speeding up. He now has a left-bearing drift. That will put him ahead and to the west of us if he continues.”

“The other contact?”

“It appears to be in a slight turn. I think he has contact on us and is shifting his course to come closer.”

Ignatova continued to the periscope, watching Bocharkov twist it from starboard to aft and back again. He looked at the clock. It was three fifteen. It seemed so much later.

Bocharkov leaned away and looked at the clock also. Two minutes until they turned. He nodded at Ignatova as he turned to Tverdokhleb. “Navigator, take us as close as you can to the shoals.”

“Captain, the team is back aboard,” Ignatova said as he reached Bocharkov.

“Status?”

“Malenkov is seriously wounded, and according to Gromeko a shark attacked them. Zosimoff is gone.”

“Gone?”

“Apparently killed in a firefight with the Americans ashore. Gromeko was bringing his body back to the boat, but he said a shark attacked them and jerked Zosimoff's body away from him.”

“A shark?” Bocharkov asked with disbelief in his voice.

“A shark. Dolinski called him a coward. I had to break up—”

“Two minutes until turn!” Orlov announced.

“We'll talk later, XO. Right now, make sure the boat is rigged for combat. I know we set it when we came into the bay, but check it again.”

Ignatova turned to carry out the orders.

“Captain Second Rank Ignatova,” Bocharkov called. “Make sure we have torpedoes in each tube.”

“The aft torpedo tubes have two tubes with decoys. The forward torpedo room has only two sailors because—”

“The mission is complete. Re-man it immediately.” Then, Bocharkov returned to the periscope. He intended to reach the open ocean. Then he thought, what would he do if he was unable to make it to the open ocean? Would he fire on the Americans? Take as many of the enemy as he could?

Without removing his eyes from the lens, Bocharkov added, “And tell them they are not to open the outer torpedo doors without my direct order.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Very well,” Bocharkov replied. Then his thoughts turned for a moment to Gromeko.

Shark? More likely Gromeko let the body drift away rather than slow down his return to the K-122. It was what he would have done, but then he was not Spetsnaz, he was a destroyer sailor. Gromeko would be explaining himself to the investigation committee upon return to Kamchatka.

 

 

STALZER
put his hand over the handset, tapped Burkeet on the arm, and said, “
Coghlan
reports bearing two-six-zero, sir.”

Burkeet nodded. “I'm going forward to the antisubmarine warfare team and see how they are doing. See if they are copying the same thing you are.”

“Roger, sir. They are copying the same thing I am,” Stalzer said, obviously feeling rebuffed. “They hear the same thing I do.”

“Understand, Chief. Didn't mean it like it sounded. I want to see their plot.”

Stalzer stuck his head back inside the sonar compartment. “Sometimes I think Burkeet doesn't trust us.”

Oliver bit his tongue. Anything told to Stalzer was soon known around the ship. Good news traveled fast when Stalzer knew it. Bad news traveled faster.

“Chief, I hold the contact bearing two-seven-zero true.”

The destroyer started a slow turn. Oliver looked at the compass above the passive display console. The ship was coming right. “What do you think, Chief?”