‘For Pete’s sake, Oz-chuck the Jez! Stand by the ball.’ If the moment had not been so tense, Hob would have enjoyed the trauma going on in the back.
‘Stand by to mark dip,’ Dunker called. ‘Left, full FCS. Mark dip, left.’ Hob decreased his speed to ninety knots and lost height, turning into the wind.
Checking his doppler ground speed, he asked Grog: ‘Ground speed?’
‘Eighty.’
‘Roger. We’re into the wind. Engage down.’
‘Engaged,’ the second pilot answered.
Hob waited, counting the seconds, monitoring the controls, trying to relax as the automatic system took them from ninety knots at two hundred feet down to zero speed at forty feet. And below him, where the waves hurled themselves in confusion, the white spume blowing from the crests just below the cab, he could picture the enemy nukes, forging onwards at five hundred feet in the serene waters of the deeps as, minute by minute, they approached their missile firing positions. This bloody descent was taking eternity — Dunker should have ordered a ‘modified’.
Then they were in the hover, as the doppler gauge showed by its crossed hairs.
They checked that they were into wind, an easy job today with this gale blowing.
‘Heading 235°,’ Grog called. ‘I’ve got thirty-five knots on my ASI.’
The peto heads were matched when Hob jerked open his window. ‘No wind,’ he called. He was forced to use full torque with the heavy load they were carrying.
If anything went wrong at this height, they’d go straight in. Though this was hardly the moment, he had better remind them: ‘If anything happens we’ll go in — no question about it: we’re too heavy.’
‘Right,’ Grog said quietly, his eyes on the curling seas ahead of them.
‘Roger,’ Bunker called. ‘We’ve got the message.’
They checked the Ts and Ps, the attitude, the doppler and the trimming. Hob tried to relax as the system took over completely: ‘First dip checks complete.’
Dunker was repeating Grog’s order:
‘Lower the body. All round sweep, axis 340°. High frequency, scale eight.’
‘Roger,’ Osgood called. ‘Fifty feet…’ The ball was on its way down.
‘Switch to cable,’ Hob ordered. The sensitive device took charge, automatically keeping the helicopter vertically over the sonar transmitter.
‘One hundred feet,’ Osgood called. ‘Transmitting.’ At last they were pinging.
Less than two minutes elapsed, then Hob glanced at Grog who nodded, then grinned.
‘Sonar contact 355°,’ Dunker cried. ‘Tack forty.’
‘Crumbs! That was quick,’ Hob reacted. ‘You sure?’
‘Certain,’ Dunker called. ‘No need to have another look.’
‘What sort of confidence?’
‘Definitely a submarine at speed: it’s got twenty-eight knots closing doppler.’
The observer could not conceal his excitement as he warned the other cabs.
‘Flash flash flash! This is 833. Sonar contact 355°, range four zero. Contact firm. 833 — out.’
Dunker desperately needed time to achieve his active sonar tracking. The other two helicopters would be raising their sonars and be preparing to join their Dip Boss. Then Dunker was talking again to them: ‘833. Sonar contact 350°, range three zero. Tracking 190°, speed twenty-eight.
822,817, join me. Execute Plan Corral. 833 — over.’
But, as 822 acknowledged, 817 came in with another Flash Report. Before he had finished, Furious was cutting in. When Dunker had finished with the HCO, his voice was tense:
‘822, 817,’ he summoned on the UHF net. ‘Execute Plan Scorch Height one thousand feet Line of bearing 260° from Dip Boss Distance interval six thousand 833 — out ‘
‘Let’s get the bastards,’ Hob yelled ‘Raise the body ‘
‘Raising the body eighty sixty ‘Grog said, switching from cable to doppler ‘Get that body in1’ Hob couldn’t contain his impatience The attackers would be within missile range in minutes, if they weren’t already coming up to firing depth ‘Body housed and latched,’ Osgood called ‘Ready,’ Dunker rapped Execute Scorch modified PCS, Hob Heading 190°’
‘Engage up,’ Hob ordered ‘Engaged,’ was Grog’s reply, cool as an ice cube While Hob waited for the machine to reach ninety knots and a height of two hundred feet, when he could take over pilot control by releasing the cyclic, he heard Dunker vectoring 822 and 817 to their dropping positions They were already in station on their line-of-bearing and were opening out At two hundred feet Hob took oxer manually and turned the helicopter 45° left to her new heading ‘Heading 190°,’ he called to Dunker ‘Speed ninety Confirm height ‘
‘Dropping height, one thousand Exit speed, maximum safe ‘
Roger ‘ Hob needed no prompting He was giving her full torque at the moment, but if they were to avoid the burst area, they had to get to hell out of it Exit speed was more vital than height
‘Ready in the back,’ Dunker shouted ‘822 and 817 in position Standby to drop!’ he called to the other two cabs He was working flat-out in the back, monitoring 822 and 817 on his radar display, checking his position, talking to Mother in all their calculations, wind direction was vital ‘Four hundred feet,’ Hob called ‘Eighty knots ‘
His gloved fingers on the cyclic, his eyes fixed on the radalt, he and Grog were steady now, concentrating on what they had to do No one yet knew for sure what an NDB could do to the dropping vehicle ‘This is 833,’ Dunker radioed to his consorts 822, 817, standby to drop Exit heading 230°, acting independently 833 — out ‘
‘822 roger ‘
‘817 roger ‘
‘Nine hundred feet ‘ Hob reported ‘105 knots ‘
He peered upwards, beneath the lip of the windscreen the rotors would soon be scraping cloud base They were prepared with their oxygen, in case they were forced to fly through the nuclear cloud ‘Check doors and windows,’ Hob ordered, pinching shut his own side ‘Shut in the back,’ Osgood reported ‘One thousand feet,’ Hob said, seconds later ‘i 10 knots ‘
Dunker’s voice crackled ‘This is Dip Boss Drop — drop — drop ‘
Hob felt the aircraft lurch forwards as the bomb was released from its carrier His stomach turned over as he pushed the cyclic forward, then gave her everything he dared The bomb was fitted with a delayed-action device, each NDB’s safety delay being staggered to avoid counter-mining How far could Hob push his cab in ninety seconds’ Two miles, two and a half ‘Give me the seconds,’ he snapped at Grog Racing from the drop datum point, Hob pushed his cab at full torque along the exit heading up-wind, so that the nuclear cloud could drift downward, away from them He had deliberately taken her up, beyond the ordered height, so that he could take her out downhill He’d pushed her up to the limits — a failure now and they’d be caught in the middle of the monstrous thing ‘Seventy-four — seventy-five,’ Grog was counting They were well below the cloud-base Hob could see the western flank of the convoy, water-beetles It was up to Mother to warn them ‘Ninety seconds,’ Grog called Dunker came in ‘822 and 817 are — ‘
‘My God1’ Grog interrupted He was pointing through his window Hob strained his body against his harness At first he could see nothing from beneath the starboard wheel-float but the gale-lashed seas streaked white by tails of foam, but as he watched, the surface of the sea astern of them heaved ponderously upwards in a gigantic circle two miles across, like the “ domed top of a giant souffle This monstrous cupula humped, became slowly convex, boiled, then from its convoluted centre, burst open The sea was flung apart, like the crater of a volcano spewing outwards Then, sluggishly at first, the maelstrom foamed and swirled to collapse in upon itself in one enormous whirlpool, sucking the periphery into its vortex The sea was metamorphosed into vapour, clouds of steam spewing upwards like a grotesque magnification of a spurting hot-water geyser And then the vast hump began to subside while the mushroom of steam and water Vapour, slowly at first, then more rapidly, soared upwards Suddenly, the daylight behind the helicopter dimmed the stalk was shooting through the cloud-base, only a few miles behind them No one spoke, forgetting their own survival while mesmerized by this shocking thing But now another, then another cloud was billowing from the explosions of the other two NDBS ‘Keep going,’ Dunker said over the intercom ‘The longer we’re on this heading, the better ‘