Stephen Makk
HMS Holy Ghost
AUTHOR’S NOTES
I’ve used some licence here to frame the story, my apologies to anyone taking exception to these inaccuracies.
THE KILO CLASS HAS been in Russian service since 1980 but Iran didn’t receive its first boat, the Tareg until 1991.
ONLY IN RECENT YEARS, have Women been allowed to serve on Royal Navy submarines.
THE ORIGINAL HOLY GHOST may have been found in a Solent mud bank. Timbers of a ship have been seen protruding from the mud at very low tide. It matches the size and proportions of the Holy Ghost and lies where the ship should be, as old documents state. Tests on its timbers are being carried out. At the time of writing, it’s expected to be Henry V’s flagship.
Chapter 1
Margaret tap tapped away on the new electric typewriter, she knew they were an improvement on the old mechanical ones, but she missed hers. She’d even asked him if she could go back to one. The First Sea Lord had refused. “Times have changed Margaret.” The sun streamed in through tall Georgian windows and backlit the finished order as she held the paper up. She read through it, carefully checking for errors. That’s it, perfect. She frowned as she read it. As PA to the First Sea Lord Sir Arthur Beaumont she’d done well. He’d a reputation for being difficult but she’d got on with him. He liked things a certain way and as long as it was done that way, then fine. She walked over to his office door and knocked softly. There was a muffled “Come in.” She opened the door, he sat reading a document behind a large desk. A number of faded gold-framed paintings of historical naval actions adorned the walls. On his desk was a model of a world war two Corvette.
“Sir, I typed up your release and commissioning order, would you like to check the work before I issue them?” She handed them over and stood by.
“Thanks.” He read them over carefully.
“That’s it Margaret, good. Get them off to Northwood.”
“I have a question, Sir.” He looked up at her.
“The new Trafalgar class nuclear submarine. Why’s it called Holy Ghost Sir? It’s an odd name for a ship.”
He sat back in his chair and smiled.
“A submarine is a boat, not a ship. You could be keel hauled in the submarine service for calling one a ship. As she’s different from a regular Trafalgar class, she’s an enhancement. I decided her name wouldn’t begin with a T. I’m a student of history, so she’s named after Henry V’s flagship in the hundred years war between England and France. That was back in the thirteen and fourteen hundreds.”
“I see, Sir. I thought you’d gone all born again.” He laughed.
“No, it’s time we had a new boat with that name. Don’t you think it’s a good name for a submarine?”
“Yes Sir, they like to keep out of the way, sneaking around.” He nodded and grinned, “You’re learning.”
“I’ll send them off Sir,” she left his office with a smirk.
HMS HOLY GHOST TOOK her first taste of the sea at Barrow in Furness. She completed her shakedown cruise and was commissioned into the fleet under the command of Captain Luke MacArthur. She’s an upgraded Trafalgar class nuclear hunter-killer, an SSN. The Ghost as she’s known in the Navy is the most powerful submarine in the world.
“HOW IS HE TODAY?” THE petty officer sat at her desk outside Vice Admiral Speed’s office.
“He’s fine Sir. He’s his usual self, you know how he is?” Luke MacArthur nodded. He knew that meant irascible, anchor faced and impatient. Luke was forty-two, brown hair, piercing grey eyes.
“Would you like a tea Sir while you’re waiting?”
“Yes, thanks.” She got up, turned and walked over to the kettle putting an extra sway to her hips, hoping that the handsome submarine Captain would notice. She’d seen him around the base, and more than a few of her colleagues had said they wouldn’t kick him out of bed. She passed him the tea.
“Thanks.” A couple of minutes later the Admiral’s door opened.
“Right, MacArthur let’s get started, and Penny bring me a brew in too.”
“Sir.” He walked into the Admiral’s office. The right-hand wall was covered with a copy of Turner's fighting Temeraire. On a table to the left was a model of HMS Newcastle.
“Sit,” Luke sat in a large leather chair the Admiral sat on the edge of his desk.
“You know the situation.” There was a knock at the door. “Come in.” The petty officer carried in two teas on a tray and placed them on his desk.
“I made two brews Sir,” she used the Admiral’s Northern term for a tea or coffee, “and there are some choccy biccies too.”
“Thanks Penny.” She left the room.
“I’ve got your orders and tasking here. But first, they think we’re deploying in four days, can the Ghost sail tomorrow night?”
“We’re still waiting for the medical officer, I’m told he’s probably OK Sir, skiing accident. He still needs clearance.”
“I knew you’d say that. He’s worse than you think. He’ll be AWOL. I’ve got a replacement lined up. She was on the Glamorgan, she’s only completed part of her submarine orientation. She’s well recommended though. Here’s her file.” He took the file. Lieutenant Pearl Turner, last posting HMS Glamorgan. He scanned her records all looked in order.
“She was on Glamorgan down in the Falklands Sir. Saw action, during the Exocet strike.”
“Yes, I know Glamorgan’s Captain Ian Stonley. He said she did well, took it in her stride, one of the lads he says.” He looked at her picture, a thirtyish black girl.
“Her file seems fine to me Sir.”
“Good, I’ll get Penny to call her. She’s in Pompey, so she can probably be here tonight.”
“Then we can sail early afternoon tomorrow Sir.”
“Do it. Now, I’ll give you the file but I’ll give you the overall picture first. Where do you think you’re going?”
“The Med Sir?”
“No. Keep this one tight.” Vice Admiral Speed leant forward and lowered his voice. “We’ve been given a hush job by Northwood. Apparently, this has come in from Number ten.” Luke raised his eyebrows. “I see, Sir.”
“We’ve long known that Iran has been awaiting delivery of her Kilo class boats from Russia. They’ve had naval personnel in Russia undergoing training, getting ready for delivery. Well, there’s been a problem with construction. It seems Ivan cocked up some steel production and the new hulls didn’t pass muster.”
“Why’s that a problem for us, Sir? It should be a benefit, we don’t want them getting their hands on the Kilo class. That’s a seriously quiet boat, it’s not nick named “The black hole” by the USN for nothing.” Admiral Speed scowled.
“Yes, the problem is the rag heads have been greasing the Russian’s palms. The Soviets have agreed to transfer the Vyborg and the Vologada to the Iranian navy, so they’re going to be operating the Kilo quicker than we’d hoped. They’ve been renamed the Nahang and the Siyah Bambak, that’s the Crocodile and the Black Shark.” Luke shook his head.
“Yes Sir, I can see that’s not good.”
“It gets worse Captain.” The Admiral placed his palms on the desk and lowered his head. Luke hadn’t seen Speed so sombre since he’d met him two years ago.
“There are factions within the regime, mostly The Army of the Guardians of the Islamic revolution, or Revolutionary Guards and the Quds force who want to take a hard line against the West. They want to get the Kilos into action as soon as they arrive; they plan to interdict shipping in the Straits of Hormuz.” Luke’s mouth dropped open in surprise.