67
Captain Second Rank Matvey Baczewski made his way through his Shchuka-B attack submarine, assessing the readiness of his ship and crew. He was in Compartment One, checking the status of his eight torpedo tubes and forty torpedoes. Although Vepr carried twelve 650-millimeter-diameter wake-homing torpedoes, designed to chase down American aircraft carriers, Baczewski focused on the twenty-eight 533-millimeter-diameter, multipurpose torpedoes, with both wake and active/passive sonar homing capability. If Vepr was called into action beneath the ice, they would use their smaller, but still deadly, sonar homing torpedoes.
In preparation, Baczewski had already ordered tubes One through Four loaded. His crew and submarine were ready, but for now, they waited. Since surfacing in the lead of open water a few kilometers from the American ice camp, it had been quiet aboard Vepr. One of its antennas was raised to receive radio transmissions and a periscope was up to monitor activity at the American ice station.
There was no guarantee Vepr would be called into action, however. Their presence near the disabled American submarine was a contingency plan; one that Baczewski hoped was implemented. After all, what was the purpose of building such magnificent submarines and the thousands of hours spent training their crews if they were never used? The thought of retiring from the Navy after never firing a torpedo or missile in defense of his country grated on him. An opportunity had finally presented itself, but it remained just beyond his grasp. His orders were clear — he could not act without justification.
Baczewski continued his tour through the submarine; it was his way of pacing, relieving the nervous energy. He was about to leave the Torpedo Room when the speakers in the compartment energized.
“Captain, Hydroacoustic. Receiving underwater communications. Request your presence in Hydroacoustic.”
Baczewski headed into Compartment Two, arriving at Hydroacoustic a moment later. He opened the door to the darkened room, revealing four Hydroacoustic Party members, along with Lieutenant Chaban. Baczewski had augmented each Hydroacoustic watch with someone who understood English, so underwater communications between the American ice station and their two submarines could be monitored.
Lieutenant Chaban relayed what he had heard. Spetsnaz had taken control of the American ice station and attack submarine, but someone at the ice station had managed to call for help. The American guided missile submarine was preparing to send SEALs to the ice station. Baczewski considered contacting the Spetsnaz unit, warning them of the threat from below. However, Fleet Admiral Ivanov had been clear; no details of their endeavor could be transmitted on official channels. However, if Vepr eliminated the SEALs, Baczewski was confident the Spetsnaz would deal with the issue at the American ice station.
He retrieved the microphone and pushed the button for the Central Command Post.
“Watch Officer, this is the Captain. Man Combat Stations. Prepare to submerge.”
68
Lieutenant Harrison climbed the ladder inside Missile Tube One, pulling himself through the hatches at the top into the starboard Dry Deck Shelter. Petty Officer Tim Oliver and two more SEALs followed, while in Missile Tube Two, Chief Jeff Stone led a second four-man team into the port Dry Deck Shelter.
After Commander McNeil’s order, Harrison had selected the members of his eight-man squad. They would be the first to the surface, followed by the remaining twenty-four SEALs. There had been a flurry of activity, with thirty-two SEALs preparing for combat, while the other half of the detachment — Navy divers — prepared to operate the shelters, air systems, and other equipment necessary to deploy the two SEAL platoons.
Harrison climbed into the hangar where the SEAL Delivery Vehicle was stowed. After donning air tanks and fins, he climbed into the SDV along with the other three SEALs. He rendered a thumbs-up to the diver on the other side of the Plexiglas shield, and dark water surged into the shelter. After the hangar door was opened, the mini-sub exited and Harrison spotted the other SDV emerging from the port shelter. The two SDVs lifted off their rails, then passed above the Dry Deck Shelters and over Michigan’s bow. In the distance, the ice station lights illuminated the hole cut for the rescue equipment. Harrison adjusted course, as did Chief Stone, and the two SDVs angled toward the light.
“Combat Stations are manned, Captain. All compartments report ready to submerge.”
While Vepr’s crew prepared for combat, Baczewski did his best to conceal his anticipation. After waiting twenty years to engage an adversary, the wait was finally over. He turned to his Watch Captain.
“Submerge to one hundred meters.”
With ice keels descending to sixty meters, Baczewski ordered his submarine deep enough to avoid them.
Seconds later, the Compensation Officer reported, “Venting all main ballast tanks.”
Vepr sank into the dark waters.
“Conn, Sonar. Receiving ballast tank venting sounds, bearing two-seven-zero.”
Lieutenant Lake acknowledged the report, then informed Captain Wilson. Intel messages had reported an Akula surfacing near Ice Station Nautilus, and the Russians must have been monitoring underwater communications. It didn’t take long for Wilson to conclude why the Akula was submerging.
Wilson ordered his Officer of the Deck, “Man Battle Stations Torpedo.”
Lake passed the word, and the Chief of the Watch made the announcement over the 1-MC, which was followed by the loud bong-bong-bong of the General Alarm reverberating through the boat. The Chief of the Watch followed up after the alarm ceased, “Man Battle Stations Torpedo.”
Commander McNeil entered Control from the Battle Management Center, and Wilson filled him in. “The Akula is submerging. We need to be ready in case they attack. Where do we stand in shelter operations?”
McNeil replied, “The two SDVs have been launched and the shelter doors are shut. The remaining SEALs are entering Missile Tubes One and Two now, preparing for mass lockout.”
“That’ll have to wait,” Wilson replied, “until we determine the Akula’s intent. We’re a sitting duck right now; we need speed.”
Wilson called out, “This is the Captain. I have the Conn. Lieutenant Lake retains the Deck. Dive, secure from hovering. Helm, ahead two-thirds.”
As the Dive secured hovering and the Helm rang up the ordered bell, Wilson checked Michigan’s course. They were pointed south. As good a course as any, for the time being.
“On ordered depth of one hundred meters, Captain,” the Watch Officer reported. “Request steerage orders.”
Baczewski checked the chart on the navigation table. Before surfacing in the lead, Vepr had detected the American SSGN hovering seven kilometers to the east.
“Steersman, right full rudder, steady course zero-nine-zero. Ahead two-thirds.”
The Steersman acknowledged, and Vepr turned east, increasing speed. Baczewski kept his eyes on the hydroacoustic display, looking for their adversary. After closing half the distance to the American submarine, the expected report came across the speakers.