By the time Pittsburgh settled out at 150 feet, Sonar and the Control Room were fully manned. The submarine’s Navigator, Lieutenant Bob Cibelli, had relieved Lieutenant Martin as Officer of the Deck, and Martin now occupied a combat control console on the starboard side, one of three workstations configured to determine the contact’s solution—its course, speed, and range.
Buglione announced, “This is the Captain. I have the Conn. Lieutenant Cibelli retains the Deck.” Buglione would now issue all tactical orders, while Cibelli managed the ship’s routine evolutions and monitored the navigation picture, ensuring Pittsburgh stayed clear of dangerous shoals.
Buglione stopped behind Martin. “Geo-plot,” he ordered.
Martin pulled up the geographic plot on the top display of his dual-screen console. A map of the southern Barents Sea appeared, with Pittsburgh in the center of the display and Kola Peninsula to the south. Pittsburgh was well positioned at the mouth of Kola Bay, and Sonar should pick up any Russian submarine trying to slip by on either side.
A short while later, Sonar reported a contact. “Conn, Sonar. Gained a fifty Hertz tonal on the towed array, designated Sierra three-five, ambiguous bearings two-zero-zero and one-two-zero. Analyzing.”
A discrete frequency with no broadband meant that whatever was generating the noise was designed to be quiet; the contact was most likely the Russian submarine. Sonar quickly sorted things out.
“Conn, Sonar. Sierra three-five is classified as a Russian nuclear-powered submarine, Yasen class.”
Buglione announced to the Fire Control Tracking Party, “Attention in Control. Designate Sierra three-five as Master one. Track Master one.”
There was no need to maneuver to resolve the bearing ambiguity, since the southern bearing matched the expected bearing of the submerging Russian submarine.
The Fire Control Tracking Party focused on determining Master one’s course, speed, and range, using the geographic constraints to deduce valuable information. Buglione’s Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Rick Schwartz, directed Martin to pull up the geographic plot again. After examining the distance to the shoals surrounding Kola Bay, Schwartz announced into his sound-powered phones, “Maximum range to Master one is six thousand yards.”
They also had a pretty good guess for the contact’s course and speed. They were within six thousand yards and weren’t detecting broadband propulsion noise, so Kazan wasn’t traveling very fast; no more than ten knots. The submarine’s course was bracketed by Rybachy Peninsula to the west and Kildin Island to the east. Given the above constraints, the two fire control technicians and Lieutenant Martin quickly converged on similar solutions.
Lieutenant Commander Schwartz examined the three consoles, then tapped one of the fire control technicians on the shoulder. “Promote to master solution.”
Buglione examined the display. Master one was on Pittsburgh’s starboard beam, on course zero-seven-zero at ten knots, five thousand yards away.
Buglione would normally fall in behind the Russian submarine, but Kazan was still traveling in shallow water, hugging the shoals around Kildin Island in an attempt to slip by any NATO submarines lurking nearby. Pittsburgh’s towed array was deployed, and if Pittsburgh fell in behind Kazan, the towed array would drag on the bottom, damaging it. Buglione couldn’t retrieve the array, since it was the only sensor detecting Kazan.
Given the requirement to stay in deeper water, Buglione decided to put Pittsburgh in the best position possible. “Helm, ahead two-thirds. Right full rudder, steady course one-zero-zero.”
Pittsburgh angled toward Kazan’s port stern quarter.
Aleksandr Plecas leaned over the navigation table in the Central Command Post, examining his submarine’s position on the electronic chart. Kildin Island was sliding by to the south, and thus far they had detected no submerged contacts; only several merchants to the north. But they had not yet deployed their towed array, their most capable hydroacoustic sensor. As Kazan began its transit toward the Atlantic Ocean, the primary concern was verifying they weren’t being trailed.
Kazan was a quiet submarine, almost undetectable by older Russian subs. If a NATO submarine had detected Kazan, it would have done so with its most capable sensor, the towed array. That meant—if Kazan was being trailed, the enemy submarine would be positioned off the port stern quarter, farther out to sea where the water was deep enough for its towed array.
Plecas examined the half-dozen bottom-contour lines circling Kildin Island, estimating how close to shore the NATO submarine could come. Assuming its array droop characteristics were similar to Russian arrays and that a trailing submarine was matching Kazan’s speed, at ten knots they could not deploy their array in water shallower than 150 meters.
He placed his finger on the 150-meter curve on Kazan’s port quarter, then looked up at the Electric Navigation Party Technician, wearing the enlisted rank of michman on his uniform collar. “Calculate a course to intercept a contact starting at this position, heading zero-seven-zero at ten knots.”
Michman Erik Korzhev entered the parameters into the navigation chart and a line appeared. “Course three-two-five.”
Plecas turned to his Watch Officer. “Captain Lieutenant Urnovitz. Come to course three-two-five and deploy the towed array once water depth is sufficient.”
Pittsburgh’s Sonar Supervisor, standing behind the consoles in the Sonar Room, evaluated the changing parameter of their contact, then made his report.
“Possible contact zig, Master one, due to upshift in frequency.”
The fire control technicians and Lieutenant Martin examined the time-frequency plot on their displays, watching the frequency of the tonal rise. Lieutenant Commander Schwartz stopped behind the consoles, and after the frequency steadied, he announced, “Confirm target zig. Contact has turned toward own-ship. Set anchor range at five thousand yards.”
Buglione stopped beside his Executive Officer, examining the displays. Kazan had maneuvered to the north as expected. In the worst-case scenario, Kazan and Pittsburgh could be on an intercept trajectory. Although submarine collisions were uncommon, they did occur. In these very same waters, USS Baton Rouge, a Los Angeles class submarine, had collided with a Russian Sierra class submarine.
Buglione planned to ensure there was no repeat of that incident. He had to maneuver Pittsburgh, but needed to know Kazan’s course so he didn’t make the situation worse.
“I need a solution fast.”
Schwartz examined the combat control consoles, his eyes squinting as the three operators slowly converged on a common solution. A minute later, Schwartz informed the Captain, “I have a solution. Master one is on course three-two-five, speed ten.”
Damn. The Russian submarine had turned onto an intercept course. They either knew they were being followed or had guessed where Pittsburgh was with incredible accuracy. Buglione had to get off Kazan’s track.
“Helm, left full rudder, steady course zero-four-five. Ahead standard.” They would move out of Kazan’s way, let her pass, then fall in behind.
Shortly after Pittsburgh turned northeast, a report from Sonar came over the speakers.
“Sonar, Conn. Picking up mechanical transients from Master one.”
Buglione waited while Sonar analyzed the sound. Mechanical transients could be almost anything, from innocuous events such as someone dropping a tool onto the deck to torpedo launch preparations.
Sonar followed up. “Conn, Sonar. Sounds like Master one is deploying a towed array.”
Buglione listened to the report with concern. Range to Kazan had decreased to four thousand yards. The United States had scant data on the new Yasen class submarines and their tactical systems, and he had no idea at what range Pittsburgh would be detected.
Plecas checked the red digital clock at the front of the Command Post. They had deployed their towed array ten minutes ago, enough time for Hydroacoustic to check all sectors. Captain Lieutenant Urnovitz must have been watching the clock as well, because he slipped the microphone from its holster.
“Hydroacoustic, Command Post. Report all contacts.”
The Hydroacoustic Party Leader replied, “Hydroacoustic holds three contacts. All three contacts are merchants to the north.”
Plecas joined his First Officer, Captain Third Rank Erik Fedorov, in front of the hydroacoustic display, searching for patterns within the random specks. Despite Hydroacoustic’s report, Plecas was not yet convinced they weren’t being trailed. Narrowband detections were not instantaneous like broadband; the algorithms needed time. As the two men examined the display, a narrow vertical bar rose from the bottom of the display. The Hydroacoustic Party Leader’s report arrived a moment later.
“Command Post, Hydroacoustic. Hold a new contact on the towed array, a sixty-point-two Hertz tonal, designated Hydroacoustic five, ambiguous bearings zero-one-five and two-six-zero. Sixty-point-two Hertz frequency correlates to American fast attack submarine.”
Plecas’s fear was confirmed—they were being trailed.
“Man Combat Stations silently.”
The two Command Post Messengers sped through the submarine, and three minutes later, Kazan’s Central Command Post was fully manned.
Plecas announced, “This is the Captain. I have the Conn and Captain Lieutenant Urnovitz retains the Watch. The target of interest is Hydroacoustic five, classified American fast attack submarine. Track Hydroacoustic five.”
Fedorov stopped behind the two fire controlmen, monitoring their progress as they converged on the same solution. The American submarine had crossed in front of them and was now traveling down Kazan’s starboard side in the opposite direction. The Americans were trying to circle around and fall in behind Kazan again.
Plecas needed to break trail and considered his options. Under normal circumstances, he’d deploy a mobile decoy and engage the electric drive—a quiet propulsion system capable of propelling the submarine at up to ten knots—then turn to a new course, slipping away while the Americans trailed the decoy. However, Kazan hadn’t been operational for long, and a variant of the mobile decoy, matching the submarine’s sound signature, hadn’t been developed yet.
Instead, Kazan carried stationary countermeasures they could eject—decoys and acoustic jammers designed to interfere with submarine and torpedo sonars—but the odds of success were lower and he didn’t want to alert the Americans that he was onto them. There was another plan with better odds; one that was more creative and would eliminate the possibility the American submarine would regain them if Kazan slipped away.
“Steersman, right ten degrees rudder, steady course north.”
Fedorov approached. “North?” he asked, realizing their navigation plan took them west toward the Atlantic Ocean.
“For now,” Plecas answered.
“I do not understand,” Fedorov said. “We should attempt to break trail, deploying countermeasures and shifting to the electric drive.”
“Patience, First Officer. Now is not the right time. Let us see what the American captain does when we enter the Marginal Ice Zone, and then I will decide.”
Buglione studied the geographic plot, his concern that Pittsburgh would be counter-detected by the Russian crew beginning to ease. Kazan remained steady on course and speed, proceeding northwest at ten knots, while Pittsburgh worked its way around the Russian submarine. In a few minutes, they would be behind her in an optimum trailing position.
When Pittsburgh intersected Kazan’s trail, Buglione ordered, “Helm, right full rudder, steady course three-two-five. Ahead two-thirds.”
Pittsburgh turned right and slowed, steadying up five thousand yards behind the Russian submarine, matching its course and speed. Buglione was pleased with his crew’s performance, successfully skirting around Kazan.
Lieutenant Commander Schwartz called out, “Possible contact zig, Master one, due to upshift in frequency.”
Schwartz stood behind the combat control consoles, his eyes shifting between the displays. “Zig confirmed,” Schwartz announced. “Set anchor range at five thousand yards. Master one has turned north and remains at ten knots.”
Buglione examined the geographic display again. In a few minutes, Pittsburgh would also turn north, staying in Kazan’s baffles.
Schwartz turned toward Buglione. “If Kazan continues north, she’ll enter the Marginal Ice Zone.”
Buglione nodded. “Where Kazan goes, we go.”