"We're screening the Nimitz battle group, except that when you're motoring along at twenty-five knots, it's not all that easy." O'Malley didn't like this. They were running a risk. It was part of war, but the pilot didn't like any part of war. Especially risks. They pay me to do it, not to like it
"The escort is mostly British, isn't it?"
"Yeah, so?"
"That's a story I can use to tell the people at home how important-"
"Look, Mr. Calloway, let's say you file your story, and it got published in the local papers. Then let's say a Soviet agent reads the story and passes it along to-"
"How would he do that? The government has undoubtedly put severe restrictions on all forms of communication."
"Ivan has lots of communications satellites, same as us. We have two satellite transmitters on this dinky little frigate. You've seen 'em. How expensive do they look? Think maybe you could have one in your backyard, inside a bush maybe? Besides, the whole group is blacked out. Total EMCON. Nobody is transmitting anything at the moment."
Morris arrived and took his seat at the head of the table.
"Captain, where are we going?" Calloway asked.
"I just found out. Sorry I can't tell you. Battleaxe and we will continue to work together for a while as stem guard for the Nimitz group. We are now designated 'Mike Force.'"
"We getting any more help?" O'Malley asked.
"Bunker Hill is heading this way. She had to reload her magazines and join up with HMS Illustrious. They'll operate in close when they catch up. We're going to outside picket again. We start doing real ASW work in another four hours. Still going to be a bastard trying to keep up with the carrier, though."
USS CHICAGO
There were three contacts. All arrived within ten minutes. Two were ahead of Chicago, left and right of her bow. The third was on her port beam. Somehow, McCafferty realized, the Russians knew of the submarines they had killed. Probably some sort of radio buoy, he was sure. That meant all that his tactical successes had really accomplished was to draw more dangers in on the trio of American submarines.
"Conn, sonar. We have some sonobuoy signals at two-six-six. Count three buoys-four, make it four."
More Bears? McCafferty wondered. A cooperative hunt?
"Skipper, you better come forward," the sonar chief called.
"What's happening?" The waterfall display screen was suddenly crowded.
"Sir, we have three lines on sonobuoys forming up right now. Gotta be at least three aircraft up there. This one's fairly close, looks like it'll extend aft of us, maybe right on our friends."
McCafferty watched the new signal lines appear at the rate of one per minute. Each was a Russian sonobuoy, and the line marched east as two others grew on different azimuths.
"They're trying to box us in, Chief."
"Looks that way, sir."
Every time we destroyed a Russian ship we gave them a location reference. They've confirmed our course and speed of advance many times over. McCafferty had gotten his submarine back to the Svyataya Anna Trough. His path to the icepack was a hundred miles wide and three hundred fathoms deep. But how many Russian subs were there? The sonar crew continued to call off bearings to the submarine contacts while the captain watched the buoy lines extend.
"I think this is Providence, sir. She just increased speed-yeah, look at the noise now, she's really increased speed. This buoy must be right near her. Still can't find Boston, though."
Bearing was constant to the two forward submarine contacts. He couldn't develop a range figure unless he or they maneuvered. If he turned left, he'd then close on a third contact, which might not be a good idea. If he turned right, he'd run away from the submarine that might then close on Providence. If he did nothing, he'd accomplish nothing, but McCafferty didn't know what to do.
"There's another buoy, sir." The new one was between the bearings of two existing contacts. They were trying to localize Providence.
"There's Boston. She's-yeah, she's running past a buoy." A new contact line appeared suddenly bright where nothing had been before. Todd just increased power and he's going to allow himself to be picked up, McCafferty thought. Then he'll dive deep to evade.
Look at it from the Russian side, the captain told himself. They don't really know what they're up against, do they? They probably figure they're up against more than one, but how many more? They can't know that. So they'll want to flush the game before they shoot, just to see what's here.
"Torpedo in the water, bearing one-nine-three!"
A Russian Bear had dropped on Boston. McCafferty watched the sonar display as Simms took his boat deep with the torpedo in pursuit. He'd change depth and make a few radical changes in course and speed, trying to evade the fish. The bright line of a noisemaker appeared, holding a constant bearing as Boston maneuvered further. The torpedo chased the noisemaker, running another three minutes before it ran out of fuel.
The screen was relatively clear again. The sonobuoy signals remained. Boston and Providence had reduced power and disappeared-but so had the Russian sub signals.
What are they doing? What is their plan? the captain asked himself. What submarines are out there?
Tangos, has to be Tangos. They cut their electric motors back, slowed to steerageway, and that's why they disappeared off the scopes. Okay, they're not coming in after us anymore. They stopped moving when the aircraft detected Providence and Boston. They're coordinating with the Bears! That means they have to be at shallow depth, and their sonar performance is down because they're close to the surface.
"Chief, assume that these two contacts you had were Tangos doing about ten knots. The figure of merit gives us a detection range of what?"
"These water conditions... ten to twelve miles. I'd be real careful using that number, sir."
Three more sonobuoy lines began to appear north of Chicago. McCafferty went aft to see how they were plotted out. They assumed about a two-mile spacing on the sonobuoy lines, and that gave them range figures.
"Not being very subtle, are they?" the exec observed.
"Why bother when you don't have to? Let's see if we can pick our way through the buoys."
"What are our friends doing?"
"They'd better be coming north, too. I don't want to think about what other assets they have moving in on us. Let's head right through here."
The executive officer gave the orders. Chicago began to move forward again. Now they'd really find out if the rubber tiles on the hull absorbed sonar waves or not. The last bearings to the Russian submarines were plotted also. McCafferty knew that they too could be moving behind that wall of noise. When he detected them again it would be at perilously close range. They went deep. The submarine dove to a thousand feet and cruised toward the precise midpoint between a pair of pinging buoys.
Another torpedo appeared in the water aft, and McCafferty maneuvered quickly to evade, only to realize that it was aimed at someone else, or nothing at all. They listened to it run for several minutes, then fade out. A perfect way to break a man's concentration, McCafferty thought, bringing his sub back to a northerly course.
Bearings to the sonobuoys changed as they got closer. They were almost exactly two miles apart, a mile on either beam, as Chicago went through the first line, crawling just above the bottom. They were set on a frequency that could be heard clearly through the hull. Just like the movies, the captain thought, as the crewmen not directly involved in navigating the boat looked up and outward at the hull as though it were being caressed by the noise. Some caress. The second line was three miles beyond the first. Chicago turned slightly left to head for another gap.