Nosey barked excitedly. “Oh wow. Hot datum Tango one, sir. Kilo down, Kilo down. He’s sucking mud.”
Franks ran his hands through his hair and blew his cheeks. How much more of this would there be?
“The IEDs worked Nathan, well done. Well done the Marines too, they’re in the ASW game now.”
“Sir, they’ll hit this place hard now,” said Nathan.
“I know, bastards.”
Nathan pursed his lips.
“They’ll have their air hitting this place if they can. The Russian air force will be swarming up there. Any new Russian boats coming through will be ready too.”
Franks hadn’t wanted to do it. They’d done well, the enemy had lost boats. A serious amount of them. But there comes a time…
“Sir, I have a contact approaching the strait. It’s an Akula class.”
“How far, Nosey?”
Two point five miles sir.” It was too far away to use the IEDs.
“OK, Planesman come about.”
The boat turned to the south.
Franks looked at Nathan. “Lieutenant commander Blake.” Nathan looked into his commander's fixed gaze. “This is the day Nathan. The day we’ll tell them about; men and women who’ll be sorry they weren’t here. We’ll stand and say, that day, I was on the USS New York City.” Franks paused. “It’s time to withdraw to the Hot Gates and make our last stand.”
Chapter 15
USS NYC HEADED SOUTH towards the Fatih Sultan Mehmet Koprusu suspension bridge.
“Sir, the submarine canyon twists left and right here,” said Pigeon. “First heading; bearing two six eight degrees. One minute, 25 seconds at 14 knots.”
“Do as she requests Planesman, maintain depth at two five zero feet. Pigeon, order course changes and runtimes as you see them. Relay the course to the Planesman.”
“Yes, sir.”
Franks grinned at his Weapons Officer.
“Your Operation VOROTA’s going well. How’s it feel to be one of them?”
Nathan frowned. “One of who, sir?”
“A Spartan. That’s what you planned, that’s what you said. We use the Bosporus like ‘The Hot Gates’ at the battle of Thermopylae.”
“Sir, I used an example.”
“Blake, I remember what you said… We’ll hold them at ‘The Hot Gates’. It was the narrowest point at Thermopylae. Where a small Spartan force held off a Persian Army.
We’ll fight an underwater Thermopylae and hold back the Russian hordes.” Franks smiled.
“What’s VOROTA mean, Blake?”
“Russian for ‘gate’, sir.”
Franks grinned. “Then I suppose Lieutenant Commander, that changes our boat’s designation?”
“Sir?” he gave Franks a quizzical stare.
“USS. United States Ship. I suppose that now becomes United Spartan Ship?” Franks laughed.
THE CITIZENS OF ISTANBUL were aware of the general situation; they’d seen the TV reports, read the newspapers. They’d seen the Army on the streets, heard the Air Force flying over the city. Life, by and large though, went on as normal. Cafes served meals, buses and cars drove by. Shops saw trade as normal. People gossiped, laughed, argued, walked hand in hand, drank in bars. The city did what cities do the world over. People sat in bars and cafes by the Bosporus drinking coffee, wine, tea, Raki and beer. They out looked out over the shimmering waterway to the far side of the city.
But hidden deep below the waters, in their midst, the USS NYC sailed south through the dark unseen canyons. The cold shadow of unseen depths were her home, and she knew her home by sound alone. The city was oblivious to the deathmatch going on in their midst.
THE BOAT HAD STREAMED her towed array sonar behind. It was only 200 feet away, but gave some information on the situation in her wake.
“Sir, I have contact with the Akula, he’s following us down the channel.”
“What do you think he’ll see, Nosey?”
“He’ll have the upgraded Mk 540 sonar sir, they’re not bad. With the canyon’s echos I don’t think he’ll have a lot of trouble. But he will go blind as we change course and turn a corner.”
ORLOV WAS FURIOUS. This enemy boat, probably a Virginia class, had sunk several Fleet submarines including Sokolov’s Volk.
“Can you hear the bastard?”
“Yes sir, it can be awkward in this чертов ‘fucking’ channel, but I can keep with him.”
“Let me hear.” He passed Captain Orlov the headset. Orlov listened and frowned.
“It sounds like a rushing sound with a deep throbbing layered over it sir.”
He listened. Sometimes he had it, sometimes there was nothing but deep echoes. Orlov tried, but it wasn’t his forte.
“Here, you do it. But keep the bastard in view, or whatever you call it. I want that ублюдок; bastard.”
“Come to one eight two degrees sir.”
“One eight two.”
“One eight two aye,” said the Planesman.
“Weapons Officer. Compute a Type 53 firing solution on this Yankee boat.”
“Sir, I have a calculation on him, it’s difficult with his pump jet drive and this damn tunnel that we’re in. But I have a solution. Tube one is ready with Type 53.”
“Flood tube one.”
He wanted this Virginia, but he had to be ready, it wasn’t the time yet. Leopard would get her chance and, when she did, she wouldn’t miss.
“PLANESMAN COMING UP on course change,” said Pigeon, “come to two one eight on my mark. Three, two one. Go.” The boat turned to starboard, the crew were pushed towards the left and they held on. She set her timer for the next leg and started the two minute 35 second countdown.
LEOPARD STRUGGLED TO keep up, they were following the Virginia, and Orlov could tell they knew the channel. Not surprising really.
“Bastards, we should have good charts of this place. The Black Sea Fleet got too damn complacent.”
“NOSEY, WHERE’S HE TURNING? Exactly where?”
“He’s turning right where we are, Pigeon.” She thought about this. Maybe?
“Sir, permission to take us right up against the wall,” asked Pigeon, “he’s trusting us.”
Franks knew what she was thinking. Trouble was, he needed to trust her too. If she got it wrong they’d be a several thousand ton battering ram, and the canyon wall would win the argument.
“Go on, do it; but Pigeon. Get it right.”
She looked at her counter. “Planesman coming up on course change, make this one quick and hard.” said Pigeon. “Come to one seven four on my mark.” She added some time to the count. “Three, two one. Go.” The boat turned hard to starboard. The crew hung on.
“Shit,” said Nosey.
“I could hear the wall compression flow. That was goddamn close, Pigeon.”
“Do you want me to drive, Nosey?”
“Do I fuc…”
Leopard turned hard, and as the tail came about there was a scrape on the rear hull.
Orlov cursed his Planesman.
The two boats raced down the twisting canyon. In the blackness Leopard scraped again.
“Last run Sir, we’re two minutes 18 seconds from the bridge.”
“Let me know when we’re ten seconds away.”
“Akula is still behind us, he’s hit the wall twice sir,” said Nosey.
“His fault, following a woman driver,” said Pigeon. “Ten seconds sir.”
Franks counted down. “Hard a port, full reverse revs.”
“Aye sir.” The boat turned and faced the oncoming enemy.
“Weaps, get a Mk 48 in him.”
“Sir, tube three selected. Designate target Tango one. Firing solution laid in on Tango one, tube three. Flooding tube, outer doors open. Fish ready in all respects. Fish is hungry sir. Launching.” From up forward there was a loud double click.