Four doubled-upped lines ran from the light gray hull to the bollards on the pier. One from the port bow, two amidships, and one from the port stern. Amidships the lines crossed in an X to provide stability to the moored boat as the tides fought to shift it forward and backward.
The bow and stern lines held the sub to the pier.
The four teams, of four sailors each, formed up at their stations supervised by an Algerian chief petty officer. On the pier opposite each team two dockworkers waited impatiently to assist.
From the conning tower came the word to single up all lines and in unison the pier side teams fought the tight topmost line off the bollards and, once free, the submarine crews, hand over hand, quickly pulled the lines back aboard. As the lines were hauled aboard, a sailor flemmed each back and forth in neat loops on the deck, far enough behind the teams so no one would trip over it, making it ready for storage as soon as they cast off. The captain ordered the officer of the deck to take in lines one, three, and four. The remaining line would be used to pivot the stern out as the captain momentarily ordered all engines ahead one-third and left full rudder.
The submarine pivoted so that the bow crept closer to the pier while the stern began to slowly angle out.
The captain ordered rudder amidships; all engines back one-third.
The submarine eased farther away from the pier as the sailors fed out line to the same number two line, being used now as insurance against a helmsman or engine room mistake. When satisfied they had sufficient clearance from the pier the captain ordered the remaining line to be cast off. They were under way. He gradually increased speed as the submarine slowly merged into the channel. He shifted the rudders to left full for ten seconds to straighten out. Visually satisfied with the position of the boat, he brought the rudders to amidships and ordered the forward speed increased to four knots. His seamanship brought the warship perfectly into the middle of the vacant channel.
The captain was proud of his boat-driving skills and knew this submarine like the back of his hand. No one else could maneuver the A/ Nasser like he could.
On deck, sailors went about the business of storing the lines and the mooring cleats so that the hull of the submarine became sleek and smooth to allow it to slide through its underwater world with minimum effort and noise. Behind the A/ Nasser the second Kilo submarine, A/ Solomon, moved into position three hundred yards astern. The sailor manning the stern watch on A/ Nasser kept a continuous monologue going through his sound powered phone as he reported the relative positions of the two submarines.
Wearing sound-powered phones, the port and starboard lookouts passed, on demand, compass bearings from the boat to various charted shore markers, to the navigation team in the control room. After plotting the results, the navigation officer made course recommendations to the captain, who corrected the heading and speed of the ship ever so slightly to keep the submarine in the center of the channel.
Two hours later the two lethal attack submarines were out of the harbor and steering the navigational channel bordered with a series of green and red buoys. Al Nasser was first past the outer marker where open sea began. The submarine turned to a northwest course and increased speed to a more efficient twelve knots. The Al Solomon followed suit and the two submarines continued in line astern formation, their surfaced tandem maneuvering hidden from overhead eyes by thick summer clouds.
The captain of the Al Nasser moved to the signal light.
Motioning the signalman to one side the captain took control of the light and flashed a short coded message to the A I Solomon.
On board the Al Solomon, the executive officer flashed an acknowledgment and breathed a lot easier. The most dangerous part was over. They were out of port and nearly through Algerian waters. The captain of the Al Solomon would have been on the bridge, but he was suffering a bad case of cut throat, courtesy of the executive officer. The crew believed the story of the captain suffering a slight bout of food poisoning, a malady that everyone on board an Algerian Navy vessel endured eventually.
Thirty minutes after they exchanged signals, armed sailors boiled out of the insides. Using their rifles, the sailors prodded groups of officers and sailors to the bow of the submarine, their hands behind their heads. With a pistol to enforce their new authority, the leaders screamed at the captive officers, chiefs, and sailors until they were lined up along the seaward side of the submarine. Then, shouting, the leaders lined the armed sailors across from their former shipmates. Quick directions and a chopping arm motion and the sailors opened fire. Most of the prisoners stood shocked, unable to believe what was happening.
When the first bullets ripped through the captives a few spontaneously leaped overboard.
The squads rushed to the side and fired at those in the water even as water suction, flowing along the submarine hull, pulled some through the chopping blades of the propellers.
Most who jumped avoided the bullets; unfortunately the firing squads shoved the dead and dying bodies into the sea. The submarine was near the horizon when the first sharks arrived. Only five survivors would make it to shore and then only because a fishing boat happened upon them early the next morning. By then, it was too late to warn loyal Algerian military forces.
Two miles later, the executive officer of Al Solomon watched crew members bring the commanding officer’s body topside and dump it overboard along with the bloodsoaked mattress from the stateroom. There were plenty of empty mattresses on board to replace it.
The Algerian Kilo submarines preferred to surface when their batteries needed recharging so the internal air could be recycled quicker. The advantage of a diesel over a nuclear-powered submarine was that battery propulsion was very quiet and seldom detected by passive sonar. The batteries of the two deadly Kilos were fully charged.
The captain of the Al Nasser turned to course two seven zero at depth fifty meters and passed this information via underwater communications, UWC, to the Al Solomon. Al Solomon would follow on the same track two hours later at seventy-five meters. They would rendezvous later before starting the dangerous part of their journey. The first two warships of the revolution headed west.
The captain prayed that they would arrive at their destination before the Americans did.
CHAPTER THREE
Anwar put the phone down gently.
“Tonight we strike a blow against the great Satan. A strike that will be heard throughout the world. Allah Alakbar! It is a glorious moment to be alive.” He smiled.
Anwar turned to Taradin.
“Give Kayal his khat,” he commanded.
“Tonight he greets Allah in paradise as he leads us into battle. Don’t you, my drug-crazed zombie?” Anwar laughed, directing the question to Kayal. Derision dripped from every word.
Taradin, sitting on the couch beside Kayal, unscrewed the container top and pulled some of the Yemeni plant from it.
“Good,” he said.
“I hate it here in Naples. The stink, the smog, the thieves.”
“The Italians, the Americans, the traffic, the heat, the humidity,” Anwar added.
Kayal reached weakly for the narcotic as his tongue pushed the chewed khat in his mouth out, letting the mixture splatter down his chin onto his shirt. “Wait, Kayal,” said Taradin, testily pulling the container away.
“You will have chewed all of this before this evening.
Be patient. When this is gone there isn’t any more.”