“Ready to fire all tubes,” the XO said.
This time he did not nod. He held up his hand and told them to wait.
“They got him, sir!” Stapler said with a hint of satisfaction. “We got all three of them.” He put both hands on his hips. “What now, Skipper?”
Garcia set the cup down in the holder. “Not a thing, Commander. We wait…”
“Excuse me, Captain,” the sound-powered phone talker interrupted. “Sonar is reporting loss of the two contacts bearing 010 and 080. They also report the two remaining contacts at 225 and 240 are in a left-hand turn away from Sea Base.” Garcia smiled. “Looks as if we have scared them away.” Stapler’s face clouded as he frowned. The faint wrinkles on his forehead creased downward like deep crevices. “Sir, those two may be drawing our attention away from the two Sonar lost. Maybe we should do second pings on them?”
Garcia’s lips pressed together. Second pings were for final firing solutions. He had already done it once. To do it against the others might be pressing their luck. He shook his head. “No, not at this time. Gearing is the ASW commander; tell him to try to locate the two missing submarines, but via passive means, not active. Don’t want the Chinese to think they’re under attack.”
“Senior Chief,” Calvins reported, his eyes looking up from under the lip of the large sound-powered phone helmet. “The second ping confirmed the located of the 225 contact.” “Senior Chief,” Bernardo called. “I’m going back through my noise library. I show three of the submarines with noise associated with closing their torpedo tubes. That submarine bearing 225 either still has its tubes opened, or our sonar array missed him closing them.”
Agazzi nodded. Most likely they missed the closing.
“My UUV is about five miles from the contact bearing 240,” MacPherson said. “My second one is eight miles from the contact bearing 225. Want me to continue pursuit?”
On board the Han-class submarine along the 225 bearing, the Skipper agonized over whether to fire the torpedoes or not. Quigdao’s orders were to conduct no hostile act against the Americans unless in self-defense. The last thing they wanted was to give the Americans a reason to become more involved in this operation off Taiwan. But he was not going to stand here as they ran from the Americans and let his boat be sunk.
The sonar operator turned from his console, his left hand pressing the headset against his ear. “I have a possible torpedo bearing 045. Very faint at this time. If we continue turning, it will disappear into our baffles.”
The Skipper twitched slightly as he felt his stomach tightening. They had fired on him. He had not heard the torpedo hit the water. It should have been overhead. He ordered the weapons officer to lift the red protection devices from the firing button. He ordered the submarine to shift its rudder, turning the Han to a new course and uncovering the baffles.
“We should fire now, sir,” the XO protested.
The Skipper’s steely eyes punctured the XO’s protest. “We will fire when I say fire.”
“Yes, my Captain,” the XO answered, his eyes cast downward.
“Can you hear it better now?” the Skipper asked, licking his lips slightly.
“Yes, sir,” said the sonar operator. “The torpedo continues on course toward us. I do not have any sonar activity from it. Most likely passive, steering toward our propellers.”
The Skipper ordered an increase in the speed, and then snapped at the helmsman for a sharp right turn. As soon as the turn was executed, he ordered all stop. Behind the Han-class attack submarine, churned water roiled upon itself, creating an underwater knuckle that masked the fading presence of the Han.
It was quiet in the conn. Everyone waited to see if the American torpedo would be fooled and steer toward this knuckle. The Skipper directed the conn to nine-hundred-feet depth, taking the submarine above the layer away from the torpedo. Since the helicopter’s dipping sonar must be below the layer, maybe this would blind them from passive detection.
It also blinded the submarine if the torpedo shot through the layer in pursuit, but he counted on the layer hiding him if the torpedo went into active seeking mode, searching with its fire-control radar, trying to lock onto him.
“I've lost the submarine,” Bernardo said.
“Which one?” Keyland asked.
“The one bearing 225,” Agazzi answered. “What do you think happened?”
Bernardo shrugged. “One moment it was there, the next it was gone. It put on a burst of speed and I think it was executing a sharp turn at the time.” He chuckled. “Must have thought a torpedo or something was after him.”
Agazzi jumped back. “MacPherson! Put that UUV into a racetrack now! Do it quickly!”
“What’s wrong?” Keyland asked.
Agazzi turned to Calvins. “Tell Combat the submarine at 225 degrees may be positioning for a torpedo attack.”
“Wait!” Keyland shouted. “Senior Chief, you tell Combat that, they’re going to tell the helicopter to launch its torpedo.” “That’s the Captain’s decision, not mine. Calvins, tell Combat.”
“Sir, we need to launch the torpedo now. Sonar is reporting the submarine in a launch maneuver.”
Garcia nodded. “I know, Commander, but we’re not. Tell the Gearing if a torpedo is detected in the water, then he has permission to attack. Otherwise, we sit and wait.”
“But Skipper…”
He nodded again. “Commander Stapler, I know how hard it is to wait, but sometimes patience and time together cause a crisis to go away. He hasn’t launched his torpedoes yet. We haven’t launched ours.”
“Sir, with all due respect, they did launch torpedoes.” Garcia shook his head. “I am coming to think, Commander Stapler, that maybe what they launched was a warning. Some sort of fake torpedo to show they could have sunk us if they had wanted.”
Stapler took a deep breath, his gaze glancing one way and then the other, before he turned back to Garcia. “Sir, you may be right, but until Naval Intelligence does its analysis, we won’t know.”
“Commander, if they were hell-bent on sinking us, they would have cranked out more than one salvo of torpedoes, and most likely we’d be seeing our friends beneath Sea Base long before we experience the dark Pacific.”
“Sir, if we attack now, we might be able to sink or cripple him before he can.”
Garcia frowned. “I disagree. As soon as he hears the splash of the torpedo hitting the water, he’ll launch his torpedoes.” “But Captain Garcia, the submarine is below the layer. He won’t hear the splash. He won’t hear anything until the torpedo penetrates the layer at one thousand feet. He’s at twelve hundred feet. The torpedo will hit him before he can fire.” “What if he does fire? What if we sink him? What about the other three contacts out there? Just because they’ve disappeared from our sensors doesn’t mean they won’t hear what happens to their sister boat.” He shook his head, slid forward, and stepped down from his chair.
Garcia leaned toward Stapler and whispered, “Commander, I know you are doing what I expect and giving me your heartfelt and best tactical opinion, but you are close to stepping across the line.” He raised his hand and placed it on the taller
Stapler’s shoulder. “It would be bad for morale and the fighting spirit of our men if I had to relieve you.” He dropped his hand. “Do we understand each other?”