“Torpedo launch transient, bearing two-seven-eight!”
Damn. Despite his crew’s head start tracking Kazan below the layer, the Russians had fired first. North Carolina’s crew was well trained, but they were methodical and slow. They weren’t yet proficient enough to execute Firing Point Procedures as quickly as crews that had completed a six-month workup preparing for deployment.
“Torpedo in the water! Bearing two-seven-eight!”
“Ahead flank!” Wilson ordered. “Hard left rudder, steady course two-one-zero.”
A red line appeared on the geographic display, joined by a purple line.
“Second torpedo in the water, also bearing two-seven-eight!”
To the Officer of the Deck, Wilson ordered, “Launch countermeasures!”
North Carolina ejected a torpedo decoy and broadband jammer, then completed its turn to the ordered evasion course, accelerating to maximum speed.
Both torpedoes had been fired while North Carolina was above the layer, so Wilson decided to drop below.
“Pilot, make your depth four hundred feet.”
As North Carolina tilted downward, Wilson turned to his Fire Control Coordinator, who was waiting on the three operators refining their target solution.
“Check Fire,” Wilson announced. “Quick Reaction Firing, Master one, tube Two primary, tube Four backup.”
Wilson canceled their normal torpedo firing process, implementing the more urgent version, which forced his Fire Control Coordinator to send his best solution to the torpedo immediately. The Russian captain wouldn’t know how well aimed the torpedo was, and it was better to give him something to worry about instead of letting him refine his solution and send updates to his torpedoes over their guidance wires.
Commander Maske shifted his gaze between the three combat control consoles, then tapped one of the fire control technicians on the shoulder. “Promote to master.”
Maske announced, “Solution ready!”
The submarine’s Weapons Officer followed. “Weapon ready!”
“Ship ready!” the Officer of the Deck announced.
“Match Sonar bearing and shoot!”
Wilson heard the whirr of the torpedo ejection pump, verifying the port torpedo bank responded as expected, then listened to the sonar technicians monitor their torpedo.
“Tube Two is in the water, running normally.”
“Fuel crossover achieved.”
“Turning to preset gyro course.”
“Shifting to medium speed.”
North Carolina’s torpedo was headed toward its target.
“Torpedo in the water, bearing zero-eight-zero!”
The American submarine had counterfired as expected. But Plecas had planned ahead; Kazan was already turning to an optimal evasion course, increasing speed to ahead flank.
Plecas checked the torpedo bearings, verifying Kazan’s new course was adequate. The torpedo bearings were drawing aft as desired. For added insurance, Plecas ordered a set of countermeasures launched: a decoy first, followed by a jammer.
The countermeasures were ejected, and after verifying the incoming torpedo was still drawing aft, Plecas focused on his outgoing torpedo salvo. The American captain had undoubtedly maneuvered his submarine as well, which meant both of Kazan’s torpedoes would speed by without a detection.
Plecas moved behind the two fire control technicians, who were updating their target solution for the American submarine. It had increased speed to ahead flank and turned to port. After analyzing further, its new course became clear. Their adversary had maneuvered to the southwest.
Plecas ordered his Weapons Officer, “Calculate steers, both torpedoes.”
Captain Lieutenant Alekhin evaluated several steers on his Weapon Control Console, then announced, “Recommend course one-eight-five.”
“Insert steer, both torpedoes, course one-eight-five.”
“Up doppler from torpedo!”
Wilson evaluated Sonar’s report with concern. The Russian crew apparently held North Carolina on its sensors and had just steered the torpedo back toward them. Wilson considered using the strong thermocline to his advantage again. But first, he needed to determine what type of salvo the Russian captain had employed.
Earlier, after dropping below the thermocline, they held only one torpedo on North Carolina’s sensors, which meant the other torpedo was running above the layer or had experienced a failure. The most likely scenario was that the Russian captain had fired a vertical salvo, but Wilson needed to be sure.
“Pilot, make your depth one-five-zero feet.”
North Carolina tilted upward, and as it traveled through the layer, Sonar lost one torpedo, but gained another.
Kazan had indeed fired a vertical salvo. This time, Wilson couldn’t use the thermocline, and if the Russian crew kept inserting steers, they would eventually lead their torpedoes to North Carolina.
The Russian captain had kept the advantage, keeping North Carolina on the run. Wilson needed to change that. Up to now, both submarines had been shooting quick-reaction fastballs at each other, forcing their opponent to focus on evasion, inhibiting their ability to prosecute their adversary. It was time for a curveball.
But first, he needed to respond to the torpedoes closing on North Carolina.
“Pilot, left ten degrees rudder, steady course zero-six-zero. Make your depth four hundred feet.”
Wilson turned to the northeast, placing the torpedoes on North Carolina’s port quarter and going deeper, where the submarine’s propulsor worked more efficiently and produced less noise.
“Launch countermeasures!”
After the torpedo decoy and jammer were launched, and as North Carolina steadied on its new course and depth, Wilson examined the geographic plot. North Carolina’s torpedo was traveling west, while Kazan was evading to the north.
“Firing Point Procedures, Master one, tube Four.”
Finally confident about Kazan’s estimated course, speed, and range, Commander Maske directed one of the fire control technicians to promote his solution to master.
Wilson received the required reports, then ordered, “Shoot tube Four!”
The torpedo was launched without incident, and Sonar monitored the torpedo as it turned onto the ordered course.
“Insert steer, tube Four, right twenty,” Wilson ordered, followed by, “Pre-enable tube Four.”
Maske and Lieutenant Johnston shot curious glances toward Wilson. They had finally nailed down Kazan’s solution, yet Wilson had ordered them to send the torpedo on a tangent, twenty degrees to the right. Additionally, Wilson had ordered them to make the torpedo dumb and blind.
Wilson offered no explanation, so the Weapons Officer sent the commands to the torpedo, steering it to the right and turning off its sonar and search algorithms.
Now that Wilson’s plan was in motion, he focused again on the incoming torpedoes. The timing was apropos, because the Sonar Supervisor reported, “Up doppler on torpedo!”
The Russian crew had steered the torpedo below the layer toward North Carolina again, and based on the signal strength of its pings, it was close. The torpedo above the layer was likely paralleling its deeper mate.
Wilson decided to use the thermocline again. But for the evasion to be successful, he needed to get both torpedoes onto the same side of the layer first. That being the case, Wilson maintained course.
As the torpedo chasing them gained on North Carolina, several watchstanders in Control cast furtive glances in Wilson’s direction. Wilson did nothing, standing beside the navigation table until the report he’d been waiting for arrived.
“Sonar, Conn. Torpedo is homing!”
Wilson reacted immediately. “Pilot, make your depth one-five-zero feet. Use ten up.”
He ordered a low angle to make sure the torpedo could follow them through the layer, which it did, joining the other torpedo on the same side of the thermocline.
“One thousand yards!” the Sonar Supervisor reported.
Both torpedoes were dangerously close, but Wilson still had a half-mile to work with.
“Officer of the Deck. Launch decoy.”
Once the countermeasure was ejected, which would hopefully garner the torpedoes’ interest for a while, Wilson gave the evasion orders.
“Pilot, make your depth four hundred feet. Use thirty down. Hard left rudder, steady course two-four-zero!”
It had worked the first time, and if North Carolina could reverse course before the torpedoes followed it through the layer, it should work again.
It was a gamble. If one of the torpedoes went below layer before North Carolina reversed course beneath it, dropping down in front of the submarine, they’d have only a few seconds to react; insufficient time to do anything besides pray.
As North Carolina steadied on its new course and depth, Wilson examined the geographic display, showing his submarine heading toward the torpedoes, separated by the thermocline.
“Coordinator, calculate intercept time.”
Commander Maske had one of the fire control technicians calculate the time the two torpedoes would be directly above.
“Fifteen seconds!”
It was only a quarter of a minute, but time seemed to slow as the seconds counted down.
“Ten seconds!”
Wilson examined the sonar displays. There was still no indication of either torpedo.
“Five seconds!”
When the time reached zero, Wilson waited a bit longer, then let out a deep breath. Seconds later, both torpedoes descended through the layer, but they were too late.
With the torpedoes behind North Carolina and heading away at over fifty knots, plus North Carolina at ahead flank in the opposite direction, it wasn’t long before both torpedoes were beyond detection range. Kazan’s crew could steer them again once they determined North Carolina’s new course and speed, but both torpedoes had been running fast for a while, and were likely low on fuel.
Plus, Wilson didn’t intend to let Kazan’s crew steer the torpedoes anyway.
He studied the geographic plot, which presented a favorable picture. Kazan was still evading to the north while North Carolina’s first-fired torpedo was heading west. The second-fired torpedo, which Wilson had ordered pre-enabled, was approaching Kazan with an offset to starboard.
Exactly as planned.
“Weapons, steer tube Two right ninety degrees.”
Lieutenant Johnston complied and the first torpedo turned sharply right.
Now came the critical part. Wilson’s plan would work only if the Russian crew still held the first MK 48 torpedo on its sensors.
A moment later, the answer became apparent.
“Possible target zig, Master one,” Commander Maske called out. “Target has turned to starboard.”
Wilson’s eyes went to his second torpedo, traveling to the right of Kazan’s original course. The Russian submarine had turned directly into the torpedo’s path, only two thousand yards in front.
“Command enable tube Four!” Wilson ordered.
The command went out and the torpedo went active, its search algorithms turning on again.
“Detect!”
Lieutenant Johnston announced the data being sent back to North Carolina over the torpedo’s guidance wire. The torpedo had detected an object that warranted further investigation, and would ping several more times to verify the object’s size and other required characteristics.
“Acquired!”
The torpedo had determined the object met attack criteria, and would now home to detonation.
“Torpedo in the water! Bearing one-five-zero!”
Plecas spun toward the hydroacoustic display. A bright white trace was burning in on their starboard beam. Based on the intensity of the trace, the torpedo was close.
“Steersman, left full rudder, steady course two-five-zero. Launch decoy!”
Kazan swung around quickly and a decoy was launched, which gave Plecas hope until Hydroacoustic’s next report.
“Torpedo is increasing speed. Torpedo is homing!”
“Launch jammer!”
An acoustic jammer was ejected, but neither the decoy nor the jammer had an effect. The torpedo was locked on to Kazan and ignored the small device pretending to be a submarine. The jammer likewise proved ineffective; it had been ejected with the torpedo too close to Kazan, and the MK 48 sped past the noise field, locking back on to their submarine.
Plecas concluded that additional decoys and jammers would be ineffective. Their last chance was to try to lose the torpedo as Kazan passed through the thermocline.
“Compensation Officer, make your depth fifty meters. Use thirty degrees up!”
Kazan shot toward the surface, passing through the thermocline before steadying on ordered depth. But the torpedo chasing them had been too close; it followed Kazan in its wake, traversing the layer before Plecas could reverse course.
Only one option remained. “Emergency blow all Main Ballast Tanks! Compensation Officer, full rise on the stern and bow planes!”
Kazan’s Compensation Officer pulled down on the emergency blow levers. High-pressure air spewed into the submarine’s Main Ballast Tanks, pushing the water out through the flood grates in the bottom of the hull. Plecas grabbed the forward periscope as the submarine’s angle reached thirty up, while other men held on to consoles near their watch stations. The air finished pushing the water out of the ballast tanks, then spilled out through the grates in the ship’s keel, leaving massive air pockets in Kazan’s wake as the submarine sped toward the ocean surface, exactly as Plecas hoped.
But the American torpedo detected Kazan’s depth change before it was blinded by the turbulent bubbles, and calculated its target’s upward trajectory. The torpedo’s tail pitched downward, matching Kazan’s ascent toward the surface, and it burst through the turbulence into clear water just above the stream of bubbles exiting Kazan’s flood grates.
It pinged and received a valid return.
Another ping, and the contact was confirmed. Its target lay only a hundred yards away.
The torpedo armed its warhead, rolling its exploder assembly into position. All it had to do now was close the remaining distance.
Through the submarine’s hull, Plecas heard the faint sonar pings from the incoming torpedo, growing louder. He tried one last-ditch effort—a sudden turn, which would leave a turbulent knuckle of swirling water from the submarine’s rudder, potentially disrupting the torpedo’s sonar returns.
“Steersman, hard left—”
The order was drowned out by a jolting explosion that knocked Plecas to the deck. A geyser of water surged into the Command Post from the level below, shooting up the access ladder and ricocheting off bulkheads and consoles. The wail of the Flooding Alarm filled his ears, followed by emergency reports detailing flooding in Compartments Two and Three.
Kazan tilted downward, increasing speed as it descended. Plecas struggled to his feet, fighting against the water rushing into the Command Post, already waist high. As he clung to the forward periscope barrel, he glanced at the digital depth detector. Its glowing red numbers increased as Kazan descended.
As Plecas watched the ocean pour into his submarine, he realized there was nothing more he could do; the flooding was beyond the capacity of their drain pumps, and their emergency blow with two flooded compartments would do no good.
Kazan was going to the bottom.
Plecas considered evacuating to Compartment One with the other men, but knew it was pointless. The ocean was more than two thousand meters deep here, well beyond Kazan’s crush depth. As Kazan descended, the intense water pressure would crumple all intact compartments as if they were made of paper.
His men stared at him with fear on their faces yet a glimmer of hope in their eyes. Somehow, he would save them.
They were wrong.
He had failed his crew and he had failed his family.
Two weeks earlier, as he hugged Tatiana tightly at the hospital, he had wondered whether he would be fortunate enough to see his wife and daughter again. He now had his answer.
North Carolina shuddered and the sonar screens turned white as the shock wave from the explosion swept past the submarine. Lieutenant Johnston called out, reporting their torpedo had detonated.
“Loss of wire continuity. Final telemetry data correlates with Master one.”
Cheers erupted in the Control Room, dying down as Sonar followed up.
“Conn, Sonar. Hull breakup noises, bearing three-three-five.”
The cheers were replaced by a solemn quiet as Wilson, and no doubt the rest of the crew, thought about the men aboard Kazan who would never return from sea. Never return to the families waiting for them. It could just as easily have been them.
After a long moment, Wilson announced, “Secure from Battle Stations.” He turned to the Executive Officer, who held up two fingers. “Section two relieve the watch.”
Once the Communicator was relieved of his Battle Stations duty, Wilson ordered him to draft a message to COMSUBFOR reporting they had sunk Kazan.
To the Officer of the Deck, Wilson ordered, “Make preparations to proceed to periscope depth and transmit.”
Hopefully, new waterspace assignments would arrive soon and North Carolina could begin its journey back to port.
The Officer of the Deck completed preparations to proceed to periscope depth, and as North Carolina tilted upward, Wilson reflected on what they had accomplished. They hadn’t been completely successful. They had sunk Kazan, but the Russian crew had launched a missile armed with a nuclear warhead, which was on the way to its target.