“What are you thinking?” Bennett asked.
“I’m not, not really. I’m just taking shots in the dark,” He looked over his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s pick up the pace again. I feel like a new man,” Robbie Newman hadn’t really said what he was thinking, but Ray Larsen was sure at that moment that he’d read Robbie’s mind.
Manchester had been running east on the bottom leg of Florida’s sector at about ten knots, varying her depth to counter the temperature gradients that affected sonar conditions. She had yet to detect a sound that could be considered manmade. Frustration, compounded by hours of anticipation, had become an enemy.
Ben Steel was experiencing an increasingly uneasy feeling that it had been a mistake to undertake his search by starting out on the perimeter of Florida’s patrol area. He remembered that Mark Bennett’s method of covering a sector was no method at all. A boomer on station was boring enough without sacrificing imagination completely. Bennett had a policy of offering a day’s maneuvering to individual OOD’s — they could choose their own courses, speeds, and depths within reason. Drills were also conducted by the same individual, and the captain always made sure that each of his OOD’s covered the entire spectrum during a patrol. It was a method of training and a means of keeping his men sharp.
So now, tell me, why are you undertaking your search by the book? Steel asked himself after the radio messenger had awakened him to explain there were no messages. When you’ve been taught by the best, why not follow his example? Only the standard functions of a submarine need to follow the book. The hunt is limited only by your imagination.
The unusual lack of messages at this time — especially with their unique assignment — meant that Pearl Harbor was probably being jammed. Of course, it could also be that they simply had no interest in singling Manchester out as an addressee. Even if a secure code was employed, any traffic analyst would recognize that she was involved in something special. Whatever the reason, no submariner ever waited to be force-fed information.
Steel’s first question when he entered the control room was, “Where’s our favorite SEAL today?”
“Most likely the torpedo room, Captain. He seems happiest down there, according to Mr. Simonds.”
“Well, call down and ask him to please join me in control. Tell him he’s going to learn how this boat really operates,” Steel added, heading to the navigation table at the rear of the control room. The quartermaster had superimposed Florida’s sector on the chart to provide Manchester’s location within that area.
There was nothing imaginative about that line — that straight, black line that indicated their track. They had reached the lower boundary after a full-power run from the south. Steel’s reasoning had been based primarily on the hope that Florida was anywhere but the opposite end of the sector. She should be picked up by sonar, he’d decided, on a sweep covering first the lower limits and then moving in a circular counterclockwise manner.
But it wasn’t just Florida he was looking for. Those boomers were exceedingly quiet and she would be tough to locate. There must be another boat somewhere out there, an enemy submarine. What other reason could there be for two missing Tridents? It would be even better if they could isolate that one first. Only … what flavor? Russian? On the assumption it had to be Soviet, that other boat would be louder than Florida. His mission was to protect the boomer, to place Manchester between them if possible. He had been given the designated sector that was Florida’s home for the duration of her patrol, but he had no idea which direction the other sub might approach from.
Lieutenant Commander Burch appeared comfortable in his borrowed uniform when he arrived in the control room. “I understand you’re looking for an expert boat driver, Captain.”
“Well, maybe drive isn’t quite the word I’d begin with. I wasn’t about to replace any of my OOD’s. But I need someone who’s unfamiliar with our normal tactics to help us out. Take a look at this for a minute.” He beckoned Burch to follow him over to the chart. “You see, we’re right here now, approaching the lower right-hand corner of Florida’s sector. She’s got to be in here somewhere, and it would be nice if we found her before the other guy did.” His hand covered most of the area. “The submarine we assume is after her can be coming from anywhere — big ocean.” He swept his hand in a circle around the sector that now appeared tiny.
“Harder to locate,” Burch remarked. “How far away can you pick up the bad guys?”
“If you were aboard a little longer, you might say it would be mostly luck to pick up either of them. Russian subs are noisier but still tough to detect. It’ll be almost impossible to find Florida. Those boomers are about the quietest things afloat, and they don’t do anything to make it any easier to hear them.”
“What if they hear us?”
“If they identify our sound signature, they’ll leave us alone and hope we don’t hear them. No one, not even Manchester, is supposed to know about these patrol areas. If they don’t figure out who we are, they’ll do whatever is necessary to disappear without being heard — go completely quiet, turn away, whatever needs to be done. The idea is that only those who need to know have any idea where a boomer is hiding.”
“I suppose they can get mad, too,” Burch said.
“That’s why there’s a signal to identify a friendly. If they’re in a corner, they’re just like a dog — they bite.”
“But in our case.…”
“I have no idea what’s happened with them. I know as much as you do. It’s possible somehow they’ve gotten the word. That would make them very nervous.”
Lieutenant Commander Burch was as curious as he was perplexed. There were rarely any ifs in his world. A SEAL on a mission normally only ran into bad guys, and they were quickly dispatched. “It’s beyond me what you think I can possibly do, Captain.”
“You can find either Florida or the other submarine just as well as any of us, maybe better. Or at least you can provide us with the means. I had a captain one time who spoke about the value of imagination in a situation like this. I know how I’d probably run my search, and that could be exactly the way I’d locate my targets. I might also miss them completely by being so damn precise and acting just like a submariner, particularly if one of them hears me first. It’s easy to see what we have to do, and all I want you to try is to place us where it seems we have the best chance of finding our quarry.”
Burch glanced curiously at Steel. He was uneasy with the idea. “I don’t think I could offer any more than any of your own men. It seems pretty obvious.…”
“I couldn’t agree with you more. That’s the only reason I called you up here. The obvious could be our biggest mistake. It’s the luck I’m looking for, that extra something that we might overlook. Go ahead. The quartermaster will put an overlay on the chart so you can play with it without messing up his pretty picture. I already know what I’m going to do. I’m going to bring us around to head toward the middle of the sector right now. We’re pretty sure we know where they aren’t. That’s where we’ve already been. So why don’t you come up with a couple of ideas for me to find out where they are. When I’m sure you’re pissing up a rope, you’ll be the first to know. What could be more fun?”
After a short lesson on the capabilities of the various sonars on board, from the sphere in the bow to the hull-mounted hydrophones to the array towed aft, Lieutenant Commander Burch experimented with possibilities until the chart overlay looked like a madman’s scratch pad. There were diagonals, star-shaped tracks, geometric designs, and spirals. The final determination was simply that if they had been following Florida without success and were now turning away from her, they would have to sweep back. The other OOD’s each took a turn at analyzing the problem as soon as they realized Ben Steel was looking for the optimum possibilities for locating the needle in the proverbial haystack.