Wilson knew why Sonar couldn’t determine the bearings — the splashes were directly overhead. “Brace for shock!” he ordered as he grabbed on to the nearest railing.
Wilson had identified both frigates as Admiral Grigorovich class, each outfitted with an RBU-600 rocket launcher capable of firing salvos of up to twelve depth charges, automatically reloading from a magazine carrying ninety-six projectiles. Thankfully, Russian depth charges had only fifty pounds of explosives, give or take a few pounds depending on the projectile type. However, even fifty pounds, detonated close enough to the hull, could breach it. Seconds later, Michigan jolted as the first depth charge exploded.
The equipment consoles shook as a deafening roar swept through the Control Room. Before Wilson could request a damage report from the Chief of the Watch, several more charges detonated, shaking the submarine each time. The explosions continued, growing more severe. After the twelfth detonation, it grew silent. But not for long as the second frigate sped overhead.
Sonar reported, “Receiving splashes on broadband,” and Wilson gripped the Conn handrail firmly again.
This round of explosions was more violent, knocking unsecured items to the deck. Wilson requested a damage report, and the status of each compartment flowed in to the Chief of the Watch, who relayed the results from all spaces.
No damage.
However, the last pass of depth charges was too close for comfort, and as approaching twin screws and sonar pings announced the return of the first frigate, Wilson turned to the Quartermaster.
“Take a sounding.”
The Quartermaster complied, activating the submarine’s fathometer for one cycle. “Sixty fathoms beneath the keel.”
Wilson acknowledged, then ordered the submarine deeper. “Dive, make your depth eight hundred feet.”
The Dive complied, ordering a ten-degree down bubble and full dive on the fairwater planes, and Michigan tilted downward. As Michigan leveled off at eight hundred feet, the first frigate launched another salvo of depth charges, and their explosions were notably fainter than the first pass, with only minor tremors felt through the hull.
As the first frigate headed away and the second approached, announced by the increasing power of its sonar pulses, Wilson wondered if the frigate held Michigan on its active sonar, determining its depth. Splashes followed and Wilson’s crew waited with upturned faces, as if they could see the depth charges sinking toward them.
The next round of depth charges began to detonate. Lighting fixtures shattered and Wilson struggled to maintain his feet as he held on to the Conn railing. Water started spraying from the port periscope barrel seal in the overhead and Wilson looked up to examine it, shielding his face from the spray. In the midst of the last few explosions, the submarine’s flooding alarm sounded, followed by a report over the 4-MC emergency circuit.
“Flooding in the Engine Room!”
91
OMSK, RUSSIA
Omsk Oil Refinery is the largest in Russia and one of the biggest in the world, processing over twenty million tons of crude oil each year. On duty today in the refinery’s main control station, filled with a dozen operators at their consoles, Bogdan Melikov sat at the supervisor’s station on an elevated tier at the back of the control room, preparing to eat lunch. Although there was a cafeteria in the refinery, Melikov preferred homemade food prepared by his wife, even if it was a sandwich.
Russians weren’t big on sandwiches; ask for a sandwich in Russia and you’d likely get a confused look and asked what kind of soup you wanted instead. However, Melikov was fond of Doktorskaya bologna, the love child of bologna and sausage, and his wife had prepared his favorite sandwich this morning: a few cuts of Doktorskaya between rye bread, a layer of garlic spread, and a slice of salo, which could be described as either raw pig fat or meat-free bacon, depending upon one’s point of view.
Melikov opened his mouth wide and took a big bite, wiping a dab of garlic spread from the corner of his mouth with a napkin. From his peripheral vision, he thought he saw movement on one of the security monitors, displaying feeds from the cameras atop the perimeter fence. He stared at it for a moment as he chewed, and after convincing himself it was just an animal passing by in the wilderness, he focused again on his lunch.
He opened a can of mint-flavored kvass and took a swig. As he took another bite of his sandwich, security alarms went off in the control room. As he tried to ascertain the reason for the warning, searching the security monitors for a clue, the door to the control room blew open and a dozen armed men surged inside, weapons raised and pointed toward the control room personnel.
The men halted after taking positions offering a clear view of the control room staff, and one of the armed men stepped forward, lowering his weapon.
He spoke in Russian. “Who is in charge here?”
The dozen men and women at the consoles turned and pointed toward the man seated at the supervisor’s station. Melikov still had a partially chewed bite of sandwich in his mouth. He swallowed hard.
92
USS MICHIGAN
As the Black Sea flooded into the submarine’s Engine Room, Michigan’s stern tilted downward. During flooding, Wilson’s crew was trained to automatically increase the submarine’s speed. The hull served as a hydrofoil, like an airplane wing, with the amount of lift determined by the submarine’s speed and angle. The faster the submarine traveled and the higher the angle, the more flooding it could endure without sinking into the ocean depths. However, there were two frigates patrolling above Michigan, trying to pinpoint her location. Increasing speed would put additional propulsion-related noise into the water, making it easier for the frigates to accomplish their mission. Wilson decided to remain at slow speed instead, unless the flooding was severe.
The Engine Room watchstanders responded as trained, with the Throttleman opening the ahead throttles and relaying his actions to Control. The Engine Order Telegraph shifted to ahead standard, whereupon Wilson overrode the automatic response.
“Helm, ahead two-thirds.”
The Helm relayed the order back to the Engine Room, and the initial surge from Michigan’s main engines faded, with the submarine settling back out at ten knots. As the stern tilted downward, Wilson waited tensely while the Chief of the Watch lined up the drain pump to the Engine Room bilges, cross-connecting the trim pump as well. When the twin eight-foot-tall pumps kicked in, Michigan’s angle stabilized, then the stern slowly rose, returning the submarine to an even keel. The flooding wasn’t catastrophic; the trim and drain pumps were keeping up.
Wilson turned his attention to the leak from the port periscope barrel seal, spraying into Control. Michigan wasn’t in peril, however. The leak was minimal, more of an annoying shower. Two Auxiliary machinist mates stepped onto the Conn to address the seawater spraying from the overhead. They adjusted the packing around the port periscope, tightening the gland until the leak slowed to a trickle, then stopped. With the gland clamped tightly against the barrel, the port periscope was inoperable, but Wilson still had the starboard scope if needed.
A moment later, an update was received from the Engine Room.
“Conn, Maneuvering. The flooding is stopped.”
Wilson picked up the 2-JV handset, conferring with the Engineering Officer of the Watch, in charge of the watchstanders in the Engine Room. The flooding was from the port Auxiliary Seawater system and had been stopped by shutting the hull isolation valves. Watchstanders were in the process of isolating the damaged section and cross-connecting the port and starboard sides of Auxiliary Seawater, with both sides supplied from the starboard intake.