The Trident Deception - Страница 4

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After carefully reviewing the status of his watch section, Tom announced loudly, “All stations, Conn. Prepare to submerge.”

The Quartermaster examined the ship’s Fathometer, announcing, “Two hundred fathoms beneath the keel,” and the Chief of the Watch reported, “Straight board, sir. All hull penetrations sealed.”

Satisfied his watch section was ready, Tom approached the port periscope, which was already raised, turned the scope until it looked forward, then pressed his face against the eyepiece, peering through the scope with his right eye. “Dive, submerge the ship to one-six-zero feet.”

The Diving Officer nodded to the Chief of the Watch, who announced, “Dive, dive,” on the 1-MC, then activated the ship’s diving alarm. The characteristic oooggh-aaahh resounded throughout the submarine, followed by “Dive, dive,” again on the 1-MC. The Chief of the Watch opened the vents on top of the main ballast tanks, letting water flood up through grates in the ship’s keel, and the Kentucky gradually sank into the ocean as it lost buoyancy. As the waves passed over the submarine’s bow, the escaping air rushing out of the main ballast tank vents shot geysers of water mist high above the Kentucky’s sail.

“Forward tanks venting.” Tom swung the scope around, looking back over the ship’s stern. “Aft tanks venting.”

The Kentucky gradually sank into the ocean, and soon only the submarine’s sail was visible above the surface, the waves now passing over the top of the Missile Compartment deck.

“Deck’s awash.”

The Kentucky continued its descent, the top of the submarine’s sail disappearing into the ocean as the Diving Officer announced, “Passing eight-zero feet.” Waves began breaking over the top of the periscope, increasing in frequency as the Kentucky slipped into the depths of the Pacific Ocean.

“Scope’s under.”

Returning the periscope to a forward view, Tom folded the handles and reached up, rotating the periscope locking ring counterclockwise, lowering the scope into its well. The Control Room was quiet, except for occasional reports and orders between watchstanders. Tom listened closely to the Diving Officer and the Chief of the Watch as they monitored the submarine’s buoyancy, determining whether they needed to flood water into or pump water out of the variable ballast tanks.

“Shutting main ballast tank vents,” the Chief of the Watch reported, sealing the tanks in case the ship was grossly overweight and an Emergency Blow was required to restore buoyancy.

The submarine gradually slowed its descent until it leveled off at 160 feet. “On ordered depth,” the Diving Officer announced. The Kentucky had submerged without a hitch, the evolution executed flawlessly.

“Well done, Tom,” Malone said. “Get relieved and meet me in Nav Center with the XO and department heads.”

* * *

In the Navigation Center behind Control, Tom joined Malone beside the chart table, along with the ship’s Executive Officer and the submarine’s four department heads. On the right of the ship’s Commanding Officer stood the Executive Officer, or XO. Responsible for all administrative issues and the daily execution of the ship’s activities, Lieutenant Commander Bruce Fay was the submarine’s second in command. Beneath the CO and XO in the military hierarchy stood the submarine’s four department heads, all on their second submarine tour with the exception of the ship’s Supply Officer, the only non-nuclear-trained officer aboard.

The most senior department head, Lieutenant Commander John Hinves, standing to Malone’s left, was the ship’s Engineering Officer, or Eng, responsible for the nuclear reactor and propulsion plant, as well as all basic mechanical and electrical systems throughout the ship. The other three department heads were all senior lieutenants. Pete Manning was the Weapons Officer, or Weps; Alan Tyler was the Navigation Officer, or Nav; and Jeff Quimby was the submarine’s Supply Officer, or Suppo, although many had not yet broken the habit of referring to the man responsible for serving the pork and beans as the Chop. Tom, one of nine junior officers aboard the submarine for their first three-year sea tour, was the only JO in Nav Center because of his assignment as Assistant Weapons Officer, responsible for the more detailed aspects of the submarine’s tactical and strategic weapon systems.

As the six other men waited quietly around the chart table, Malone opened a sealed manila envelope stamped TOP SECRET in orange letters, retrieving a single-page document containing the ship’s patrol orders. Until this moment, no one aboard the Kentucky knew their assigned operating area, where they would lurk for the duration of their patrol. Malone skimmed the document, pausing to read aloud the pertinent information.

“‘Transit through operating area Sapphire, then commence Alert Patrol in Emerald.’” Malone turned to the ship’s Navigator. “How long to Emerald?”

Tyler measured off the distance on the chart between the Kentucky’s current position and the entrance to Emerald.

“Ten days, sir.”

3

FAST-ATTACK SUBMARINE — USS HOUSTON

“So what have you learned?”

Captain Murray Wilson stood between the Houston’s two periscopes, his arms folded across his chest, glaring at the ten Prospective Commanding and Executive Officers gathered in the submarine’s Control Room. The atmosphere in Control was subdued, with most of the ten PCOs and PXOs staring down at the submarine’s deck. As Captain Wilson dressed down his students, the Houston’s crew sat quietly at their watch stations, painfully aware their performance during the Submarine Command Course had been dismal as well.

“In twenty engagements over the last week, the Kentucky consistently defeated you, sinking this ship every time. A ballistic missile submarine, not even one of our front-line fast attacks, handed your ass to you.” Wilson shook his head, then asked his question again. “So what have you learned?”

One of the PCOs, headed to relieve as commanding officer of the USS Greenville, spoke. “We need to better position the ship, taking advantage of the ocean’s thermal layer. The Kentucky gained her advantage through better employment of her sensors.”

“True,” Wilson replied, “but that’s not the answer I’m looking for.”

An uneasy silence settled over the Control Room again until a second PCO spoke, this one headed to relieve as commanding officer of the West Virginia. “Countermeasures aren’t very effective against our ADCAP torpedo. You have to be more aggressive in your evasion tactics when you’re being shot at with advanced digital torpedoes.”

“Another good observation,” Wilson said, “but still not what I’m looking for.”

Silence returned to the Control Room as Murray Wilson, the most senior captain in the Submarine Force, waited for the obvious answer from one of the students in the twelfth Submarine Command Course under his instruction. Each year, the Submarine Force held four command courses, ensuring each officer tapped to relieve as a submarine commanding or executive officer fully grasped the knowledge and tactical guidance necessary to successfully lead his crew in combat. The three months of intense training culminated in a weeklong exercise at sea, the students split between two submarines, pitted against each other day and night, their Torpedo Rooms filled to the gills with exercise torpedoes.

The Houston was supposed to go head-to-head against another fast attack, the Scranton, but an electrical turbine casualty sent the Scranton to the yards for repair, and the Kentucky was hastily drafted into service. When the students assigned to the Houston learned the Kentucky, which specialized in launching missiles instead of hunting enemy submarines, had replaced the Scranton, their reaction was glib; they were confident they would defeat the Kentucky without breaking a sweat.

They couldn’t have been more wrong.

Wilson’s gaze swept across his now humble students, stopping on Commander Joe Casey, headed to the USS Texas, one of the Virginia-class fast attacks. He’d been the most boisterous of his students, loudly proclaiming they’d crush the Kentucky in every scenario.

“Commander Casey. What’s the most important lesson you learned this week?” Casey looked up, and Wilson knew from the look in the young commander’s eyes that he had learned his lesson.

Casey said, “Don’t be too cocky.”

Wilson smiled. “That’s exactly right, gentleman. Never underestimate your opponent, which is exactly what you did this week. When you found out the Kentucky replaced the Scranton, you expected a cakewalk. Going up against a ballistic missile submarine instead of one of our fast attacks was going to be like what, Commander Bates?”

Doug Bates, standing next to Casey, looked up and answered quietly, “Like shooting fish in a barrel.”

“Things didn’t turn out quite the way you expected, did they? Just because the Kentucky is a ballistic missile submarine doesn’t make her any less capable than a fast attack. All of her department heads have served on fast attacks — and don’t forget, I trained her commanding officer and executive officer. True, her sonar and combat control systems are a generation behind what we have on our fast attacks, but they are capable enough in the hands of a crew that understands the ship’s strengths and weaknesses, and most important, doesn’t underestimate their opponent. When you lead your submarine into the Western Pacific or through the Red Sea into the Gulf, you’ll be pitted against what could easily be considered an inferior adversary, lacking the sophisticated equipment and training you enjoy. But all it takes is one mistake, one incorrect assumption, one torpedo to send you and your crew to the bottom.”