“The lure is singing, Sir.”
“Sonar. Range point two miles.” Nathan swallowed, closed his eyes and counted down. The adrenalin flushed his stomach.
“Eject countermeasures to port. Come starboard sixty degrees.” The crew leaned to stay vertical as the boat heeled hard to the right.
Countermeasures fell away from the hull spinning, blowing bubbles, hissing and emitting sounds of submarine propellers, seductive sirens of the deep. Come and get me boys, I’m all yours.
There were two loud booms to the port side as the fish went off. The boat moved unnaturally, thrown hard to the right. She rolled and wallowed in the turbulent sea.
“Damage control report. Return to bearing one fifty.”
“Sir. Pipe splits on port ballast line. We’re routing ballast feed through the starboard line. Back aft monkeys tell me fifteen minutes and they’ll have it fixed.”
The Engineers, the back aft monkeys, were hard at work.
The control room breathed again. Now twenty miles offshore, the USS Stonewall Jackson slowed.
“Come to two twenty degrees, slowly now. Speed ten knots.” Nathan tensed.
The boat turned to starboard in a lazy turn to allow the lure time to straighten out, where it would be most effective.
“Sonar, I want you to listen good to what’s going on at Sinpo. What’s our friend up to?”
Nathan unhooked his microphone.
“All hands. Rig for silent running, if a goldfish even thinks about farting out there I want to know about it. Sonar. Request aspect change to two six zero. Speed six knots. Planesman, come to two six zero, slowly, six knots.”
Over long minutes and several aspect changes, the underwater scene took shape.
Nathan waited, he saw the sonar operator, a CPO and his best sonar man, making notes, listening more and taking down readings. He knew to give the man time.
“SONAR. SIR, I’VE GOT the best picture now I’m going to get.”
“Ok, CPO Benson. Let’s hear what the Virginia Visionary has to say.”
Benson pursed his lips. “Sir, first off, we put a fish into that Sea Cow. She’s burning and listing heavy. Seopung is heading southwest, towards Wonsan, I think. She has escorts, I’ve picked up three or maybe four Sang-O class boats. They’re making eight knots, at two hundred and thirty feet. I don’t think they’ll make Wonsan without a snorkel. That’s a guess, Sir.”
“Thanks CPO Benson. You’re probably right, they’ll have a weak link amongst them.” He walked over to the chart plot. “Let’s have an intercept position, Kaminski. Assume we’ll transit at twenty knots.”
She worked and plotted the best position. “Here Sir, it’s about halfway from Sinpo to Wonsan.” She’d plotted a position to the southeast of a small offshore Island. “Around twelve miles off,” she zoomed in, “Hwa-do Island. Bearing two four three.”
“Ok Planesman, do as she says. Speed twenty knots.”
After an hour’s sail, he decided it was time. “Sonar. Position of enemy squadron?”
“Bearing, three fifteen. Range sixteen miles. Sir.”
“I want a cold layer, keep an ear out. Flood forward one. Open and trim vents fore and aft. Make for depth. Down bubble fifteen, make your depth 2,600 feet.”
USS Stonewall Jackson was going far deeper than her opponents could, all the way down to a dark, crushing 2,600 feet.
Up ahead the submarine Seopung, (West Wind) escorted by the Sang-O boats, Bada Saja, (Sea Lion) Ag-eo, (Crocodile) Mun-eo (Octopus) and Geom-eun gae (Blackfish), made their way towards Wonsan, unaware of their stalker in the darkness down below.
Chapter 9
“SONAR. WE’VE JUST passed down through a cold layer, Sir.”
“Very good. Planesman, zero bubble.” Nathan checked the depth indicator, 1,300 feet. It was an instinctive check; his eyes regularly took in several snippets of information from around the room. It was an unconscious, rote skill. Even the crew’s body language told him something. The deck rose up to forward and the crew stood, as they should relative to the floor instead of leaning backwards.
A boat was less easy to detect, down below the layer. It was known as the shadow zone.
In the deep ocean, the water temperature varies, which causes the water density to vary. This changing density creates an effect called a thermocline, which acts as a barrier, causing sound energy to bend away. This can effectively shield the submarine from view.
“Sonar. Range to the enemy squadron eight miles. I can make out two surface vessels, running through the library.” It took a little more than a minute.
“Sir. They’re the Najin class frigates, Najin and Heuglyong.”
“Weaps. Armament?” He consulted the dummies guide.
“Two, five tube RBU 1200 launchers. Rocket launched anti-submarine mortars. Range three thousand three hundred feet. Depth spread timing for detonation, or detonation on impact. Max operating depth 1,500 feet.”
“Kaminski. How long until we’re under their line of advance?”
She made a few calculations. “Eight minutes Sir.”
“Let me know when we’re there.”
The minutes counted down.
“UNDER THEIR LINE NOW,” said Nikki.
“Come to two two zero degrees, speed eight knots.”
The squadron made its way towards Wonsan with USS Stonewall Jackson 1,000 feet below and behind.
Right Blake; get a grip. Nathan cast his mind back to the conversation he’d had with Admiral Sutton at Pearl.
“We’re ROE free, so your mission and Rules Of Engagement are to sink the enemy boat and any enemy boats or ships you encounter.”
How to penetrate the submarine screen and get to his quarry?
“Sonar. Sir, they’re slowing, props are now slowing.”
“All stop,” ordered Nathan. The drive slowed then stopped, and the boat drifted forward under its own momentum.
“Sonar. I heard a ballast blow, one of them is going up.”
“Any idea who, Benson?”
“No, Sir.”
One could have a problem, but why would they all come to a stop?
That was it. Bastard.
“XO, Kaminski, come to the conn.” They both came over, and Nathan lowered his voice. “It’s got to be Seopung. What else?”
The XO nodded.
“Sir,” said Nikki, “the Pukgukson-3 ballistic missile has a range of at least 780 miles, could be 1,400 or more. That’s more than enough to hit all South Korea and most or all of Japan. They’ve even a long outside chance of reaching Guam.”
Nathan gripped the rail on the conn. “Ok thanks, return to stations.”
Nathan knew if Seopung was setting up for a missile launch, it had to be stopped. She had four vertical tubes forward of the sail. That could be two nukes for Seoul, one for Busan, and, just for devilment, one for Tokyo too. She needed to have the hell knocked out of her world.
“That’s it,” said Nathan standing, “enough. She’s going to get the Mother of all Gerbils rammed up her ass. Come to six knots. Blow one forward.” The deck now took on a slope to the bow.
“Weaps. War shot status?”
“Sir, tubes one to four Mk 48 CBASS, tube five Harpoon, tube six clear.”
“Get me a firing solution on all submerged contacts.”
“Aye Sir.” The Weapons officer set to work. “Contacts marked. Seopung designated Tango one. Four Sang-O boats designated Tango’s two to five.”
“Closest?”
“Tango five, Sir.”
“Lay in the solution. Flood tube one, open outer doors.”
“Tube ready in all respects.”
“Snapshot, snapshot. Launch tube one and reload.” A hissing came from the bow.