“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?”
“I think we are coming onto course two-seven-zero.”
Oliver nodded. He knew that, he told himself.
Dolinski walked into the control room trailing his knapsack after him.
“What are you doing here, Lieutenant?” Ignatova asked.
Bocharkov leaned away from the periscope, now pointed toward the aft quadrant of the boat. He caught a glimpse of Dolinski near the XO, but his attention was on watching the two destroyers, so he quickly returned to his surveillance.
The running lights of the destroyer off his starboard beam showed a starboard bow aspect. Would he be able to avoid a confrontation?
He pressed his eyes tighter against the eyepiece. There, he had thought it: confrontation. Seldom did they ever run into the Americans without some sort of confrontation. The high seas made it convenient. Several seconds passed before he leaned away. “Officer of the Deck, the destroyer behind us is in a left-hand turn.”