“The president wants us in the Situation Room.”
Captain Glen McGlothin, the president’s senior military aide, looked up as Chief of Staff Kevin Hardison stopped in his office doorway, delivering the news.
“What’s up?” McGlothin asked.
“SecDef Drapac and OPNAV N97 are on the way from the Pentagon to brief the president.”
McGlothin wondered what could be so important to warrant a visit by the secretary of defense and the Navy’s Director of Undersea Warfare. Before he could ask, Hardison added, “Admiral Blaszczyk and Dawn Cabral are on the way too.”
Something big was brewing. The Chief of Naval Operations was joining them, and the secretary of state’s presence meant the issue had international implications.
“What’s the topic?”
“They think USS Pittsburgh has been attacked by a Russian submarine.”
McGlothin and Hardison were the first to arrive in the Situation Room, joined shortly by National Security Advisor Thom Parham, Secretary of State Dawn Cabral, and Press Secretary Lars Sikes. The president arrived moments later, followed by SecDef Tom Drapac and two admirals: Chief of Naval Operations Tom Blaszczyk, and the Director of Undersea Warfare, Rear Admiral Pat Urello. The president took his seat at the head of the table, joined by the eight other men and women in the Situation Room.
“For those who haven’t been pre-briefed,” Drapac began, “we believe one of our submarines has been attacked and possibly sunk. Admiral Urello is here to brief us.”
Admiral Urello passed around a stack of briefs.
“USS Pittsburgh, a Los Angeles class fast attack, was on station in the Barents Sea, tasked with tracking Russian submarines.” He flipped to the first page of the brief, which showed a map of the Barents Sea and Russia’s Kola Peninsula. “Russia’s newest Yasen class submarine, Kazan, departed Gadzhiyevo Naval Base earlier this week for her first deployment, and Pittsburgh began trailing her when she entered the Barents Sea.
“Kazan broke trail, and Pittsburgh and another U.S. submarine were repositioned along the transit lanes through the GIUK Gap in case Kazan entered the Atlantic, on her way to either a Mediterranean or U.S. East Coast deployment. Kazan was indeed detected transiting through the GIUK Gap by our SOSUS arrays, and Pittsburgh was vectored to regain trail. Shortly after we expected Pittsburgh to encounter Kazan, Pittsburgh ejected a SEPIRB buoy.”
“SEPIRB buoy?” the president asked.
“A SEPIRB is a Submarine Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon, used to report the location of a submarine in distress. After reaching the surface, the SEPIRB buoy transmits a satellite distress message, reporting its position using a built-in GPS transponder.”
“Do we know what happened to Pittsburgh?”
“We think so,” Urello answered. “Shortly before the SEPIRB activated, our SOSUS arrays detected an underwater explosion, which we triangulated to Pittsburgh’s operating area. Analysis of the transient is consistent with the detonation of a heavyweight torpedo. Additionally, the explosion characteristics match those of several Russian variants, and not one of our Mark forty-eight torpedoes.
“We’ve sent several messages to Pittsburgh, directing her to report in, but we’ve heard nothing so far.” Urello fell silent, letting those around the table digest the information and its implications.
“Are we certain Pittsburgh was sunk by Kazan?” the president asked.
“No, sir,” Urello replied. “That’s why we’ve issued a SUBMISS instead of a SUBSUNK. There are three submarine rescue alert levels,” he explained. “A SUBLOOK message gets issued when a submarine fails to report in on time. Once there’s reason to believe a submarine has sunk or is in distress, a SUBMISS goes out and we begin mobilizing rescue resources. Once we’ve confirmed a submarine has sunk, we issue a SUBSUNK. It’s possible Pittsburgh is okay and unable to report in for some reason, but it’s more likely she’s been sunk. In submarine combat, the outcome is almost always a binary result. The torpedo either misses, or you get hit and sink.”
“Assuming Pittsburgh was sunk, how long can the crew survive?”
“They have enough emergency supplies to keep the air viable for seven days. If they have electrical power, however, they can run their atmosphere control equipment and purify water, so they’d be okay until they run out of food, which would probably be a couple of weeks, since they’re at the end of their Northern Run and food supplies would be running low. For now, we’re assuming they have no power and time is critical.”
Urello flipped to the next page of his brief, which showed a map of the GIUK Gap, with Pittsburgh’s operating area outlined in red.
“This is where we think Pittsburgh sank. Luckily, water depth is shallower than Pittsburgh’s crush depth, so crew members in intact compartments should be alive. Which gets me to our rescue plans.”
Urello flipped the page.
He began with the resources most people were familiar with. “We used to have two Deep Submergence Rescue Vehicles, or DSRVs—Avalon and Mystic—which attached to a mother submarine for transit to the rescue location. However, the last DSRV was retired in 2008. Their replacement is the Submarine Rescue Diving and Recompression System, located at the Undersea Rescue Command in San Diego.”
Urello went on to describe the submarine rescue system, which comprised three main components: an eighteen-person-capacity rescue module capable of descending two thousand feet, the rescue module launch and recovery system bolted to the deck of a support ship, and two hyperbaric chambers, each capable of decompressing thirty-four persons at a time.
“The equipment will be transported to Iceland and loaded onto a surface support ship, which should be on station where we believe Pittsburgh sank within…”—Urello checked his watch—“… ninety-one hours.”
“What do we tell the public?” Press Secretary Sikes asked. He looked to the president, who referred the question to Urello.
“For now,” Urello answered, “I recommend we say nothing. It’s not uncommon to issue a SUBLOOK, and on rare occasion we issue a SUBMISS and begin mobilizing rescue assets, sometimes just for a training exercise. Until we’re confident Pittsburgh sank, I recommend we not mention anything unless we’re queried.”
“I agree,” the president said. “Draft something for my review,” he instructed Sikes, “in case the story breaks.”
Turning his attention back to Rear Admiral Urello, the president asked, “Have we discussed this with any Russian officials?”
“No, sir. But they know we’re looking for Pittsburgh. Russia is a member of ISMERLO, the International Submarine Escape and Rescue Liaison Office, which is a consortium of every country that operates submarines. They know we’re mobilizing to rescue one of our submarines near the GIUK Gap. The critical question, assuming we’re correct in our assumption that Kazan sank Pittsburgh, is whether the attack was authorized, or even directed by the Kremlin or the Russian naval command.”
The president pondered Urello’s question before responding. “I find it unlikely that whatever happened was authorized by President Kalinin, considering our assistance returning him to power a few months ago. It wouldn’t surprise me, however, if an order was issued by a Russian admiral, considering how we devastated their Navy during their recent aggression. Payback, perhaps?”
It was a rhetorical question, which no one at the table could answer.
The president checked the clocks on the Situation Room wall, noting the time in Moscow: 4 p.m.
“Let’s find out what Kalinin knows.” He pressed the intercom button on the nearby phone, putting him through to the audiovisual technician.
“Place a call to President Kalinin.”