“What? Sink ships?”
“That’s what the bloody Kilo’s designed to do, they’re ideal for shallow water operations. Poor bastards won’t stand a chance.” Admiral Speed drummed his fingers on the desk, reluctant to continue.
“So what’s our hush hush job then Sir? Shadow them?”
“You are to locate them and prevent them if possible from carrying out the task they’ll be given on arrival at Bandar Abbas.” Luke had been expecting something like that.
“What’s our ROE Sir?” Admiral Speed leaned forward and fixed him with an intense stare.
“What’s the role of the submarine service?”
“To keep the sea lanes free and to roam them at Her Majesty’s pleasure Sir.” Speed shook his head.
“The role of the submarine service is to sink the enemy. Let me tell you. It would give Her Majesty the greatest of pleasure to hear that you sank two of her enemies. She might down a tot of Rum. She might even hang a fucking gong on your chest.
What’s the role of the submarine service?”
“To sink the enemy Sir.” Speed shook his head and raised his voice.
“I said, what’s the role of the submarine service?”
“To sink the fucking enemy Sir.” Admiral Speed smiled.
“Why are you going to sink them?”
“Because it pleases Her Majesty to see the bastards sent to hell Sir.”
“That’s more like it. Your rules of engagement are, if it moves sink it. If it doesn’t, then sink it so it does. Go out there and sink the Crocodile and the Black Shark. I didn’t give you the Holy Ghost for a pleasure cruise. We’ll leak the word that you’re going to the Med. But get out into the Atlantic, around the Cape of Good hope, wait for them in the Red Sea and sink the bastards. They’ll be coming through the Suez canal.” Luke weighed up the options. The Red Sea?
“Sir, those boats are Soviet navy Northern fleet. They’ll probably transit west of Ireland and head for the Straits of Gibraltar bound for Suez. It makes more sense to pick them up in the western approaches and get them there or off Portugal or Spain.” Admiral Speed pursed his lips and looked down, avoiding his junior officer’s gaze.
“It must be the Red Sea.”
“But…” Speed looked him in the eyes.
“The Red fucking Sea Captain.” Luke knew not to protest any further.
“Right Sir. I’ll get on it.”
“Stay where you are for a few minutes, get your tea and biccys.” He took his teacup and a few chocolate biscuits.
“MacArthur, we’re expecting a lot of political flack over this one.” The Admiral handed over a cassette tape. “When you’ve done the job broadcast this on the frequency marked on the cover.”
“Yes, Sir.” The two men talked ships, submarines and put the navy and the world to rights.
“MacArthur, I like your style. Hit em bloody hard. Right. Off you go, good luck and happy hunting.”
The following morning Luke walked down the quayside and headed straight for HMS Holy Ghost, crossed over the gangway and climbed the sail. It was commonly called a conning tower but was more correctly called the sail. He climbed down the ladder from the open hatch and onto the main deck. Walking forward he entered the control room. Forward a technician worked inside an open panel at the sonar station. The sonar operator looked over the technician’s shoulder. Luke walked over.
“A problem PO Southworth?”
“Aye Sir, an intermittent spike, Phil says it’s fixable.” Petty officer Peter Southworth had a strong Geordie accent acquired from his native Newcastle. The technician turned to Luke.
“I’ve seen this one before Sir, we should be done in half an hour.” Luke turned back to the rear of the control room, walked down the companionway and into his cabin, he came out a minute later with a small leather bag.
“Exec, Weaps. Get your bonnets on and let’s go ashore. The male and female officers put on their white dress hats and headed for the sail. The Executive officer Mark Davis led the way with Weapons officer Savita Kapoor following. They climbed the sail with Luke following. Luke couldn’t help but take a look up at Savita’s rear as she climbed the ladder, she wore a coverall but there was no disguising what lay beneath. He made himself look at the ladder in case she looked down and caught him out. On the quayside, he faced them.
“What’s up Sir?” asked Commander Davis with a slight Welsh brogue. He was in his late thirties with black hair, born in Aberystwyth and a passionate rugby player.
“Change of schedule I’m afraid. We sail this afternoon. We’re off now to see Tea leaves.”
“I hear Lieutenant Ascot is struggling on his feet from the skiing accident,” said Lieutenant Commander Kapoor. Luke looked at her, with her smooth light coffee coloured skin and brown black eyes so deep you could swim in them, it was hard to tear his mind back to the matter in hand.
“Yes I heard, we’ve a replacement MO due in today. Lieutenant Pearl Turner is due to join us at any time.” Luke lowered his voice. “Keep this one quiet until we’re underway. We’re not going to the Med, we’re going on patrol in the North Atlantic. Then it’ll be a fast transit to South Africa, around the cape and up into the Red Sea. Admiral Speed has given us complete freedom with our ROE’s, he wants us to sink the enemy on sight.”
“What enemy Sir?” Asked Commander Kapoor.
“The Soviets have given the Iranians two Kilo class boats, we’re to stop them. They plan to use them to blockade the Straits of Hormuz.”
“Bloody hell,” said Davis. Savita smiled.
“I like it.”
“Come on,” said Luke, “let’s see what information Tea leaves has on enemy movements.”
They walked into the block, a low concrete structure with mock civilian houses on its roof. The guard checked their passes. Luke led the way down the corridors until they came to a door marked Fleet Command intelligence. He opened the door and entered.
There were around fifteen officers working at various screens a few looked up and nodded. He headed for an office at the rear, the door plate read Commander McLeod. Inside sat a ginger haired man wearing the uniform of a Commander naval intelligence.
“Good morning Tea leaves,” said Luke, “did you win big in the Cheltenham gold cup? You must have picked the winner?”
“Piss off, you pirate. Go and stink somebody else’s office out.”
“Tut tut, and to think, all that stands between you and the bloody Soviet’s is me, a poor pirate.”
“It’s a cruel world Maccy. What do you want?”
“I’m here to pick your brains.” Commander McLeod snorted.
“Let’s have a sitrep Tea leaves. Soviet Northern Fleet. Kilo class boats, Vyborg and the Vologada, what are the opposition up to?”
“Pull the blinds down.” Savita pulled down the blinds covering the windows, Commander McLeod switched on the large screen and accessed a file. The screen filled with a map of the Barents Sea and the Norwegian Sea. Luke opened the leather bag from his cabin and took out a fortune teller’s crystal ball then placed it on the desk.
“Just some help to make your guesses more accurate.” Savita sniggered. Commander McLeod rolled his eyes.
“Piss off Maccy.”
“This is from all sources,” said McLeod, “satellite, humint, and cousins.”
“Cousins?” said Lieutenant Commander Kapoor.
“Americans. The CIA and NSA mostly,” said Luke, “under the counter stuff.” He tapped the side of his nose.
“As you’d expect the boats are in the 24th Submarine Division based at Yagelnaya Bay, the Sayda Inlet. Let me bring up the last satellite pass.” Commander McLeod studied the pictures. There they are and some of this activity here means they’re preparing to put to sea.
“What about Soviet Naval aviation?” asked Luke.