“How do you like being stationed in Holy Loch?”
questioned Mac.
“So far, I don’t have any serious complaints, Commander.
My wife’s of Scottish ancestry, and when I got my transfer orders, she couldn’t wait to get over here.
We’ve got a small cottage in Dunoon that’s got all the comforts of the States. Personally, when I’m not driving the Bovffin, I like to spend my free time playing golf and fishing. And in both activities, Scotland excels.”
“I’m a golfer myself,” returned Mac.
“Have you gotten up to St. Andrews yet?”
The mere mention of his favorite pastime put a boyish gleam in the captain’s eyes.
“No, I haven’t, though I have played Gleneagles. The little lady and myself took the train up there and had a marvelous time.
Can’t say much for my score, but the course itself is gorgeous, and the scenery even better. It’s located right at the southern part of the Highlands and abounds with heather-filled meadows, crystal-clear lochs, and plenty of fast-moving streams. Luckily I brought along my fishing gear, and caught the biggest salmon of my life on the nearby Devon River.”
“Sounds like Scotland’s been good to you, Captain.
For the last couple of years, I’ve been living on the north shore of Oahu. We’ve got a few pretty good golf courses of our own, though the scenery’s a bit different.”
“That’s awful lovely country in its own right,” said the CO with a sigh.
“I’d be a liar if I didn’t tell you that this fickle Scottish weather can get a bit nerve wracking sometimes. During the winter just passed, we had three weeks straight of nothing but solid rain.
Naturally it came just as we returned from a 45day cruise. By the end of the first week, we were dreaming of palm trees, blue skies, and white sand beaches. By the end of the third week, even New London, Connecticut, was starting to sound good.”
“I didn’t think that submariners got cabin fever,” Mac said with a grin.
The CO shook his head.
“At least when I’m aboard the Bow/in, my wife’s not around to constantly pester me about painting the interior of the house and fixing the plumbing. That can get old real fast.”
Again the intercom crackled alive to report a nearby surface contact, and as the captain responded to this call, Mac looked out to the Bowfm’s teardrop-shaped bow. Through the roiling mist he could just see the waters of the Firth as they smoothly cascaded up over the sub’s rounded hull. Nearly half the forward portion of the deck was covered by this frothing seawater that left behind a characteristic splashing surge in its wake.
“Seems we’re just about to pass a slow-moving trawler that lies to our starboard some five hundred yards away. They shouldn’t be any problem as long as they remain on course.”
Mac looked to his right, but failed to spot the vessel.
“The Firth can get awfully crowded with civilian vessels sometimes,” added the CO.
“It’s not the best place to locate a submarine base, but I shouldn’t complain.
It’s a hell of a lot more convenient than having to steam in from the United States mainland. Because a short northward jog of only a few hundred miles puts up right on Ivan’s doorstep.”
“I understand that the Brits have a sub base here as well,” said Mac.
“That’s right, Commander. It’s located a few miles east of us in Gare Loch. Falsane is where they keep a good majority of their boomers, and where their new Trident vessels will be operating out of.”
“Sort of puts us smack at ground zero in the event of a war, doesn’t it, Captain?”
The Bowfin’s CO looked at Mac as he replied to this.
“As far as I’m concerned, if such a horrific thing were going to come down, that’s right where I’d like to be. It’s the survivors of such a conflict that I’d pity.
I’d much rather go up in a flash, though as a submariner there’s a good chance that I’d be directly participating in such a conflict at sea, rather than merely just getting fried at port.”
“If the unthinkable ever occurs and the nuclear genie is released, Oahu won’t last long either,” added Mac.
“The Reds will hit the island with a barrage of submarine-launched warheads that will make December 7, 1941, look like a turkey shoot.”
“But don’t forget, Commander, our job’s to ensure that such a tragic turn of events never happens. That’s why it’s so damned important that America remain strong. One thing I’m absolutely certain of is that the Russkies respect strength above all. They’re not about to launch a nuclear strike if they know Uncle Sam will be able to retaliate effectively. Right now, our triad of nuclear delivery systems ensures our continued security.
But for how much longer, I just don’t know. Ivan’s continually improving his ASW skills, which means that soon our Trident submarine fleet won’t be so invulnerable.
Congress still can’t decide on an updated ICBM basing mode to replace Minuteman, and I’m afraid that our fixed-wing capabilities are a bit questionable.”
“I hear you, Captain,” returned — Mac.
“It’s hard to believe that the first flight of a B-52 took place way back in 1952. Hell, that’s two whole years before I was even born, and those planes are still up there flying deterrent patrols. SAC and the Air Force have done one hell of a fine job maintaining such platforms. But the questions remains, can they still do the job that they were designed to do almost four decades ago?”
“Let’s hope to God we never have to learn the answer to that question, Commander. And speaking of the B-52, what do you think our chances are of finding those two bombs that are still missing?”
Mac thoughtfully stared out into the fog.
“We should be able to do it, sir. Our current level of technology is certainly advanced enough to handle the operation.
Unfortunately, our resources are limited, and the logistical concerns of such a mission are extremely challenging.
“Washington’s in a hurry for us to recover the missing ordnance, and rightly so. Yet without the proper equipment, our job’s going to take only that much longer to accomplish. Our oceanographic ship, the USS Lynch, arrived at the site only yesterday. There are but a dozen such vessels in the fleet, and we were lucky they were in the Norwegian Sea when the crash occurred.
The Lynch’s job will be to make an intensive bathymetric scan of the seafloor beneath the debris field. This profile will be of invaluable assistance once the bombs are located and it becomes time for their actual recovery.
“We’ve currently got Sea Stallion helicopters at the site pulling sonar sleds over the area. Soon a pair of Avenger-class minesweeping ships will be arriving to give the choppers a hand. The sonar capabilities of these vessels are excellent, and with them we’ll be able to scan every square inch of the sea bottom. Also on hand is the sub rescue tender Pigeon, along with the DSRV Mystic. The Mystic will be utilized to eyeball suspicious contacts along with a variety of ROV’s that have already arrived.”
“It certainly sounds as if you’ve got a handle on it, Commander. Yet since this whole operation has been working under a need-to-know basis only, how are you explaining to the outside world what all these platforms are doing out there? Surely the Irish are going to be curious, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Ivan’s eye in the sky has already beamed photos of the crash site back to the Kremlin.”
Mac hesitated before responding.
“This whole operation is being explained away as a submarine rescue drill. Yet the longer it takes to find the two missing bombs, the shakier this story is going to get. In order to help speed things up, I’ve already begun circulating a flier among the fishermen in the area, asking if they happened to see anything out of the ordinary on the night of the accident. Because either one of the bombs could have fallen in an altogether different part of the Irish Sea, I felt that such an inquiry was necessary.”