“I think we snagged something,” the quartermaster said, in a quiet, exasperated voice. “Lots of pressure on the controls, and we’re losing response.”
“Shit,” the skipper said. “Back two-thirds.” The skipper waited until their speed through the water had decreased to zero, then ordered, “All stop. Rudder amidships.”
“All stop. Rudder amidships, aye… sir, my rudder is amidships,” the helmsmen responded.
The Miami had a closed-circuit zoom TV camera in a pressure vessel on the top of the sail, and the captain and quartermaster studied the picture. Sure enough, a large black net had completely enveloped the nose of the submarine. The net was huge — it engulfed the entire front of the sub all the way from the nose up to the sail. Swiveling the camera athwartship, they saw the net covering the sailplanes; aiming the camera aft, the net was angled upward away from the rudder and propeller, but was even now starting to drift down toward the stern. The top of the net could not be seen, but it appeared to extend far beyond camera range, even possibly to the surface.
“I think we’re caught in a damned drift net,” the quartermaster muttered. “It’s got to be a thousand feet long and two hundred feet high, at least. Japanese drift nets are dozens of miles long sometimes.”
“That’s impossible — you can’t stop a seven-thousand-ton submarine with a nylon net,” the captain remarked. “Besides, what’s a damned drift net doing in a big ship channel? Who would…?” The skipper answered his own question: the Iranians were hunting for American submarines. “Let’s get a diving team suited up and ready to assist if needed. It looks like the stern’s still clear — let’s see if we can back out of this thing. Helm, all back slow.”
But it was too late. As they began to try to extract themselves from the drift net, the top of the net began to sink even faster, and minutes later, the rudder and propeller appeared to be covered by the net. “Damn, the net’s in the prop,” the captain muttered.
“That’ll be the end of the net, then, sir,” the quartermaster said. “Our prop would break even a steel cable net.” But he was wrong. Instead of slicing the net up into pieces, the net simply began winding itself around the propeller blades.
“What in hell… all stop, allstop\ ” the captain ordered. “Christ, what in hell is that net made of? Helm, all ahead slow, let’s see if we can kick that net clear.” But it was no use — the net was completely fouling the propeller. “Dammit, dammit… all right, looks like we’ve got to put the divers over the side,” the captain said. “Once we cut the prop free, we’ll go as close to the bottom as we can and try to turn north and sail out the side of the net.” He flipped on the ship-wide intercom: “Attention all hands, this is the captain. Looks like we’re caught in a big drift net. Chief of the boat, report to the helm, stand by to deploy diver salvage team.”
“Bridge, sonar, heavy high-speed screws bearing three-two-zero, range eight thousand yards and closing fast. Large patrol vessel or small corvette or frigate. I’m picking up a patrol helicopter flying low over the water, too.” Moments later, they heard the first active pings of a sonobuoy dropped just a few hundred yards away — the search for the trapped sub had begun. The next several sonobuoys were much closer — they had been pinpointed. The patrol vessel was soon joined by several more, all converging on their location.
The captain’s jaw dropped open in surprise. Not only was this not a random, unlucky accident — it now appeared to be an intentionally set trap. The Iranians had deployed some kind of unbreakable net in the ship channel right behind their attack submarine Taregh, and they had snagged themselves an American attack submarine.
“I think the fuckers found us,” the captain said. He hit an intercom button: “Comm, this is the captain. Deploy the satellite antenna buoy, send a distress signal immediately.”
The antenna buoy had reached the surface and was transmitting for about three minutes when the first depth charge was launched from the Iranian frigate and splashed into the water over the trapped American sub.
The Central Military Commission meeting broke into loud cheers and uncharacteristically hearty applause as the members watched their TV monitors. The CNN “Early Prime” news broadcast from the United States — practically all TV sets in Government House had been tuned to CNN twenty-four hours a day since the conflict with Taiwan had begun— opened with video taken from Iranian navy sailors in the Strait of Hormuz south of Bandar-Abbass. They showed an American nuclear- powered attack submarine on the surface, covered with an immense net in which they had become entangled while spying on the naval facilities near Bandar-Abbass. Iranian warships surrounded the sub, with dozens of guns of all sizes trained on the helpless American warship and its crew, who had been forced to surrender after a massive depth-charge barrage, and who were now kneeling up on the sub’s deck, hands on top of their heads. The video was being transmitted directly from Iranian vessels to the Islamic Republic News Agency offices in Tehran, where CNN had a news bureau, and from there the Iranians allowed the live video uplinked directly to the United States for rebroadcast in the middle of the afternoon in the United States and in “prime time” in Europe.
Proudest of all in the room was Admiral Sun Ji Guoming himself. After leading the successful bombing raids against Chinese Taipei — and performing the secret missile attack against North and South Korea, which only a few members of President Jiang’s command post staff knew about — he had returned like a conquering hero to Beijing to receive the praise and gratitude of Paramount Leader Jiang Zemin and the entire Politburo of the Chinese Communist Party. But this latest action was icing on the cake — the ignoble capture of an American attack sub well within Iranian territorial waters.
Sun was proud because he had suggested the trap. He had devised a plan years ago to use huge drift nets made of Kevlar, as light as nylon but stronger than steel, to try to trap enemy submarines. Each net cost millions of yuan to make, but Iran, North Korea, and several other nations were happy to make the investment. It was simply a matter of patience: creating an inviting target for enemy spy subs, then laying out the net and hoping that an unwary, complacent sub captain sailed into it.
A louder volley of laughter erupted when the American news showed three old fishermen in their dilapidated old boat, which the Iranian Navy had allowed into the patrol area, their dirty canvas trousers pulled down around their ankles and their bare asses hanging over the side of the junk, defecating into the Strait of Hormuz next to the American submarine. CNN also showed people of all ages throwing buckets of trash and sewage onto the captured sub, burning American flags and then tossing them into the Strait. A piece of video even captured a brief glimpse of an antenna buoy that had broken loose from the American sub when the depth-charge attack had begun, and retrieved by a small motorboat with young children at the helm. The children circled the area, scanning the water with flashlights and torches to try to find more souvenirs.
“Excellent, excellent!” President Jiang shouted, clapping and smiling like a schoolboy at a football match. “I am almost embarrassed for the American president and his submarine sailors! He must be the laughingstock of the entire world!” He received congratulations and acknowledgments from several Politburo and CMC members, then stepped over to Admiral Sun. “What do you think the Iranians will do with their American captives, Admiral?”