“In plain English,” Dahlenburg added, “Commander Steel is supervising the assembly of the submarine rescue equipment, Naughton is here to supervise Steel, and I’m doing a fine job supervising Naughton. Standard military operation.” The Admiral grinned, then added, “Our command structure is designed for an at-sea rescue, where several Navy and civilian ships and even other nations could be involved. It’s redundant on the polar ice cap, but we’ve had a number of challenges to work through, and as they say, three heads are better than one.”
“I understand,” Christine said. “Speaking of challenges, where do we stand on the rescue attempt?”
The Admiral deferred to Captain Naughton, who answered, “The submarine rescue system is being assembled, and we expect everything will be ready by nightfall. The biggest challenge is cutting an access hole large enough for the rescue vehicle. The Pressurized Rescue Module is twenty-five feet long, so we plan to create a thirty-foot-diameter hole. That’s an enormous amount of very hard ice to dig through. We’re taking an innovative approach, though, and the equipment will arrive this afternoon. Once we’re through the ice, we’ll commence rescue operations.”
“How are we doing on time?” Christine asked.
“We have until morning,” Dahlenburg replied. “At least for the men in Dolgoruky’s bow compartment. The men trapped aft have more air regeneration canisters and the air should last another day or two.”
“Have you been briefed on the plan after we rescue Dolgoruky’s crew?” Christine asked.
“I have,” the Admiral said. “Assuming we complete rescue efforts before the Russian submersible is in operation, we’ll send you, Captain Brackman, and the ONI team down for a look around, assuming the atmosphere in the submarine is suitable.” Dahlenburg added, “Do you mind if I join you? It’s hard to pass up an opportunity to explore Russia’s newest ballistic missile submarine.”
“Not at all,” Christine said.
Captain Naughton joined in. “We’re pretty much in a holding pattern while the Submarine Rescue System is being assembled. I’ll have Commander Steel walk you through the equipment this afternoon if he has a free moment.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Christine replied.
“In the meantime,” Verbeck said, “we’re in communication with North Dakota via our RATS underwater communication system, and they’ve been relaying information about Dolgoruky. They’re communicating via Morse code, with North Dakota sending out sonar pulses and Dolgoruky’s crew banging on metal surfaces.”
Stu Berman, who’d been eyeing the communication and above-ice sonar equipment, asked, “Do you mind if I chat with the operators?”
“I’m sure they’d enjoy your company,” Verbeck replied. He turned to Christine. “Ready to continue the tour?”
“If it’s okay with you, ma’am,” Brackman said, “I’d like to talk with Admiral Dahlenburg and Captain Naughton for a while.”
“That’s fine, Captain.”
Verbeck led Christine from the command hut and continued the camp tour, pointing out the diesel generator hut before heading toward a large tent.
“Most important,” Verbeck said, “is the galley. While we’re there, I’ll introduce you to one of your roommates, Sally Firebaugh.” He had a slight smirk as he added, “Don’t be concerned. Her bark is worse than her bite.”
They entered the galley, which was a double-insulated tent in the shape of a half moon, attached to a plywood hut in the back. There were a dozen white plastic tables in the tent, surrounded by matching plastic chairs. Verbeck headed to the back of the tent, approaching one of the cooks behind a counter in the plywood hut, a woman in her fifties preparing lunch.
“Good morning, Sally,” Verbeck said.
Sally looked up and when she spotted Verbeck, a scowl formed on her face. “What’s so good about it?”
“I’d like you to meet your roommate, Christine O’Connor, the president’s national security advisor.”
Sally turned to Christine and a smile replaced her scowl. “A pleasure to meet you.” To Verbeck, she said, “Can she cook?”
Verbeck sighed. “Not again, Sally.”
Sally gestured to the other cooks in the galley as she turned back to Christine. “We’re busier than one-legged men in an ass-kicking contest. There’s twice as many people here compared to a normal ice camp, but the same number of cooks. You’d think whoever was in charge of this operation could’ve done the math.” She glared at Verbeck.
“We couldn’t find any cooks willing to freeze their butt off on such short notice,” Verbeck replied. “Besides, no one boils water like you do.”
Sally smiled and placed her hand over her chest, “Aww, that just melts my heart.” She grabbed an ice pick on the counter, then thrust it toward Verbeck. “Speaking of water, why don’t you make yourself useful and dig up some?”
Verbeck reached for the ice pick. “Not a bad idea,” he said as he put the ice pick in his pocket. He turned to Christine. “Want to dig up some water?”
Christine wasn’t sure what that entailed, but it sounded interesting. “I’m game.”
She followed Verbeck out of the galley and around back, where he climbed onto a snowmobile with a black bin attached behind it. “Hop on.”
Christine slid behind him and Verbeck hit the accelerator. They headed out of camp, past one of the polar bear watches, a man with binoculars hanging from his neck and a 12-gauge shotgun cradled in one arm. Verbeck explained there were polar bear watches stationed on each side of the camp to protect everyone from the curious and sometimes hungry denizens of the Arctic.
The snowmobile stopped a hundred feet away from the ice camp, well within sight of the polar bear watch, near a patch of ice where the snow had been cleared and a small pit dug. Lying beside the pit was a pick ax. Verbeck hopped off the snowmobile and grabbed the ax, using the blade to crease an outline in the ice that matched the size of the black bin. He started hacking at the ice, explaining things between each whack.
“We don’t ship water to the camp. We melt ice cut from the ice cap. Which might sound strange,” he said, “since polar ice is frozen seawater.” Verbeck explained how the brine migrated downward over time, resulting in the surface of multiyear ice being drinkable.
After a few minutes, Verbeck paused, stretching out his back. “Do you want to take a turn? It’s sort of a rite of passage around here.”
“Sure,” Christine said.
He handed her the pick ax and she began chopping where he left off, and it wasn’t long before a block of ice broke off. Verbeck picked it up and placed it in the bin. It didn’t quite fit, and he used the ice pick Sally gave him to chip away at the edges until the block fell into the bin. He put the ice pick into his pocket and they headed back to camp.
Verbeck parked the snowmobile behind the galley, then opened a door at the back of the hut and yelled inside. “I’ve got your water. Come and get it!”
As he closed the door, his radio squawked, and he pulled it from his parka.
“Verbeck,” he answered.
“We need you at the command hut,” a voice said. “There’s a third submarine beneath us.”
51
“North Dakota, this is Michigan. Do you copy? Over.”
Standing in the Control Room, Captain Wilson released the microphone switch and listened for a response over the submarine’s underwater telephone. Technically, he was supposed to use call signs for both submarines, which changed periodically and disguised which submarines were communicating in case a foreign ship was eavesdropping. However, the entire ISMERLO community knew Michigan had been sent under the ice to assist North Dakota. He figured he wasn’t giving anything away.