The water might gradually find its way into the space, slowly flooding the compartment until all the air was gone. The chief swallowed heavily and tried to push these thoughts from her mind.
Captain Bowie nodded toward the XO. “Thanks for the update, Pete.”
He looked at the team of men and women assembled around the table.
“I’ve already said a few prayers for the crew of Antietam—the unharmed ones, as well as the injured, and the missing, and the dead. I intend to say a few more. I know that you all have different religious beliefs, and that some of you don’t believe in God in any form. But I would take it as a personal favor if you would find the time over the next few days to say a few words of prayer for the crew of Antietam.”
Every head around the table nodded slowly.
“Thank you,” the captain said. “Now, I’d like to turn this meeting over to Chief McPherson.”
Chief McPherson stood up. “Thank you, Captain.” She walked to a pair of charts that had been taped to the wall. The first was a navigational chart of the Arabian Gulf region. The second was a geographic map of the world. She nearly smiled; her visual aids were a far cry from Captain Whiley’s whiz-bang computer graphics. She pointed to the chart of the Arabian Gulf. “We are currently steaming through the Straits of Hormuz at thirty knots. Our sonars are degraded by our speed, and we are generating quite a bit of noise, which makes us vulnerable to submarine attack. But it’s a calculated risk, and the captain has decided to take it.
The German Type 212B diesel submarine has a maximum submerged speed of only twenty knots.” She pointed to the northern end of the Straits of Hormuz on her chart. “The idea is to outdistance the submarines and establish a choke point at the northern end of the straits, before the subs can get there.”
“Works for me,” the XO said. “Then what?”
“Well, that’s what we’re here to figure out, sir. The next time we encounter those subs, we have got to give them something unexpected.
And therein lies the problem. Whatever it is can’t look like something they’re not expecting.”
Ensign Cooper frowned. “I’m not following you, Chief.”
“Look at it like this,” the chief said. “In the three battles that have occurred so far, the German submarines have met only with variations of NATO tactics. By now, they are probably convinced that the U.S. Navy is too hidebound by doctrine to try anything creative. Hopefully, that means they’ll be expecting more of the same. Therefore, whatever the SAU tries should break the rules of NATO tactical doctrine without looking like it’s going to break them.”
The XO’s eyebrows went up. “So we have to hit them with something that’s not in the NATO tactical doctrine, but it has to look like something that is in the NATO doctrine?”
Chief McPherson nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I think everyone’s got the idea, Chief,” the captain said. “Move on.”
“Yes, sir. If the subs run flat-out at their top speed of twenty knots, the earliest they can possibly reach the choke point is 1100. At thirty knots, we can be on station nearly forty minutes ahead of them — more than enough time to get in position to intercept.”
The chief pointed to a series of penciled X-marks on the world map.
“I’ve done a little math here. And based on the timing of the various sightings and skirmishes with the submarines, I calculate that they are covering an average distance of 13.5 nautical miles per hour. Although they are undoubtedly traveling at a higher rate of speed, the deceptive maneuvering they’re using has reduced their actual speed through the water. All that zigging and zagging slows down their progress. If they continue their deceptive maneuvering, I estimate that the subs won’t reach the choke point until some time after 1700 this evening. As I say, the SAU will be in position by 1020 hours, just in case the Germans decide to forgo their tricky maneuvering routine, in favor of achieving maximum possible speed through the water.”
She looked around the table. There were no questions, so she continued. “We want our setup to duplicate our previous deployment of forces as closely as possible.” She pointed to the Arabian Gulf chart again. “I recommend we put Benfold and Ingraham here and here, Spaced at eighty percent of their predicted sonar ranges, just like before. They’ll use the same locked-step zigzag pattern that we used before, forming a two-ship version of the moving barrier. Last time we used three ships in the barrier, but the Germans know that we are down a ship, so they’ll expect our formation to be one ship short.”
The Combat Systems Officer, Lieutenant Sikes, tapped a pencil against her palm. “When do we pull the rabbit out of the hat?” she asked. “So far, this looks like what we did when we got our butts shot off.”
Chief McPherson grinned. “That’s exactly how we want it to look, ma’am. The good old U.S. Navy, too dumb to learn from its mistakes, trying the same old plan — even after it’s fallen on its face.” She pointed to a spot on the chart, behind the formation. “The Germans will assume that Towers is back here in the Pouncer position, running behind the advancing barrier — ready to charge around the end of the formation at the first sign of trouble.” She moved her finger to a different point on the chart. “This is where the rabbit comes out of the hat. Because Towers will actually be way down here, in front of the formation, where they won’t be expecting her.”
Ensign Cooper furrowed his brow. “It won’t matter what the Germans are expecting. They’re going to see us. One peep through a periscope, and they’re going to know that we’re not on the back side of the formation.
The jig will be up long before those subs are within weapons range.”
The chief waved a hand toward the Operations Officer. “Sir?”
Lieutenant Nylander stood up. “Thank you, Chief.” His eyes traveled from face to face. “Chief McPherson and I have worked this out. The Germans will not see us, because we’re going to make the ship invisible.”
The Combat Systems Officer waved her pencil around in circles like a wand. “See? I knew there was some hocus-pocus in here somewhere. Rabbits out of hats, invisible ships. Maybe we should levitate the Chief Engineer as a finale.”
“Watch it,” the CHENG snapped.
“Patience,” the captain said. “There is a method to this madness.”
The Combat Systems Officer caught herself before another quip left her mouth.
“Thank you, sir,” the Operations Officer said. He looked around the table again. “What’s the best way to hide a cat?” he asked.
“Stick it in the microwave,” the CHENG said softly.
The Combat Systems Officer elbowed him in the ribs.
“Close,” said the Operations Officer. “You put it in a room full of other cats.”
“The Straits of Hormuz is a major shipping lane, and dozens of oil tankers go through every day, in both directions. If we want to disappear, all we have to do is become a tanker.”
“Child’s play,” the Operations Officer said. “We rig deceptive lighting, so we look like an oil tanker in the dark. We secure the SPY radar and every other piece of electronics that transmits anything on military frequency bands. That still leaves us the Furuno radar, for safety of navigation, but Furunos are carried by two-thirds of the merchant ships in the world. The Germans will expect a tanker to carry a Furuno, or something like it.”