“Con, sonar,” he heard his sonar chief’s alarmed voice. “We just picked up a series of objects entering the water to port.”
Berryman responded immediately, “Any chance the splashes were aerial torpedoes entering the water?” Any possibility the Iranians knew he was here was remote. The Virginia was moving so slowly that it was unlikely even another in her class would have heard her.
“Negative, and they aren’t sonar buoys, either. I’m not sure what it was, but we counted at least five splashes.”
Berryman considered the possibilities. The ocean was normally filled with sound. Just the natural sounds surrounding them accounted for 99 % of what his sonar system picked up, the rest was manmade. But, considering where they were at the moment, there were a lot of manmade noises to consider. “Helm, thirty degree turn to starboard,” he ordered, making a course change away from the unidentified sound. The turn would eventually bringing him back southward and behind the Kilo that made a similar turn a few minutes earlier. He then spoke to his navigation officer, “Paul, how accurate is our position fix?”
“Within ten meters, Captain,” the officer responded almost immediately.
“Con, sonar,” the chief’s voice again sounded from the speaker. “More splashes, dead ahead and close.”
Berryman still wasn’t certain what they were picking up. If any of the splashes were torpedoes, his sonar systems would have alerted him. They were already turning away from the initial series of unidentified splashing sounds, and he briefly wondered if a surface vessel they’d somehow failed to detect was dropping trash overboard.
He was about to order yet another course change when he heard the whine of the Mine Detection and Avoidance System alarm sounding. MIDAS for short, was just one of many sonar systems the Virginia employed to keep her safe in the deep and was designed to detect mines and other dangerous objects in the submarines path.
“MIDAS alert. Multiple bearings, all dead ahead!” his sonar chief called out in alarm.
“Hard to starboard,” Berryman ordered, now understanding what the noises they’d heard were. Intelligence reports indicated the Iranians were dropping a steady supply of mines into the Strait of Hormuz, improving their already significant minefield. Most of these mines were deployed by ships, but there were also reports of mines being deployed from aircraft. The minefield was miles away, and the Virginia should be safe, but something had gone wrong. Had the Iranians decided to expand their field intentionally? Had the Virginia stumbled into a new field previously unidentified, or had a flight of Iranian aircraft simply gone off course and deployed their mines in the wrong place?
He couldn’t know the answer, and at the moment, he had no time to speculate.
“Sound general quarters,” he ordered calmly, hiding his own fear from his crew who’d gone from near boredom after hours of following the Kilo to sheer terror at the possibility they’d strayed into a minefield. Regardless, he needed to get the Virginia’s watertight integrity increased in case they struck a mine, and sending the crew to GQ was the quickest way to accomplish this.
“New course one-eight-zero,” he ordered as he considered the various potential hazards to his submarine. He didn’t know how close he was to the objects the MIDAS alarm had warned him about, and he couldn’t be certain they even were mines. He stood and stepped in behind his helmsman, keeping his eyes on the tactical display.
“Con, sonar,” he heard the chief’s frantic voice. “New contact, Sierra four. Bearing two-eight-five. Classify contact as probable nuclear powered submarine.”
A million possibilities went through Berryman’s mind at the same instant. He was quite certain they were nowhere near the Iranian minefield. They’d been following the slow moving Kilo for hours. The unexpected splashes could very well be aerial mines being deployed around him. He doubted the Iranians had any clue he was here, and the mines — if they were mines — were being dropped by probable accident. The new contact, possibly the Astute or maybe a Russian, was in the area and heard the splashing sounds, too. Whoever they were had been moving quietly or perhaps holding their position, waiting in ambush and just listening. When they heard the splashes, they’d voted with their feet and accelerated to clear the area just as he was trying to do.
Berryman still hadn’t panicked. Instead, he factored in this latest piece of information into his calculations. But, just as he was processing, the sonar chief’s voice again sounded overhead, “Con, sonar. More splashes to starboard and a second series to port.”
His helmsman and planesman looked at him with worry.
Berryman knew his boat and crew were in danger, but he also knew allowing panic to set in wouldn’t help him. “Hold your turn, helm,” he ordered, trying to keep any alarm out of his voice. He now assumed that somewhere above him, hovering over the Gulf of Oman, was a flight of five or more Iranian transport helicopters dropping mines into the sea almost at random. Whether they were off course or intentionally seeding these waters didn’t matter. He had to get clear of the area before it was too late.
The MIDAS alarm again sounded and he saw his helmsman white knuckling his controls as he stiffened in fright. “MIDAS alert,” the sonar chief’s voice called out. “Mine bearing zero-zero-five.”
The mine was directly ahead of them.
“Reverse your turn, helm,” Berryman ordered, trying to keep his own voice steady. He’d read the reports regarding Iranian sea mines being deployed and knew most were magnetic induction mines, meaning they would detonate the moment they detected a metallic object. Fortunately, the Virginia’s steel hull had been degaussed prior to their current deployment. Not that he was counting on this saving them. Their best — perhaps only — chance of escape was to avoid the mines entirely.
He resisted the itch to accelerate, knowing that at high speed the Virginia wasn’t as maneuverable, and at the moment, he wanted agility, not speed. He checked the depth, seeing he still had about three hundred feet beneath him and considered diving to get under the descending mines, then reconsidered. Mines were normally moored to the sea floor, and considering the depth here he felt it unlikely that this was an intentional seeding of mines, therefore — instead of descending — he ordered the Virginia closer to the surface, hoping to rise up above the sinking mines.
“Battle stations manned and ready,” the Officer of the Deck reported, “Condition Zebra set throughout the ship, Captain.”
Berryman heard the report. It was the first piece of good news he’d had since the first mine splashed into the sea ten minutes earlier. He was about to acknowledge the report when the sound of something heavy striking the hull resonated through the ship. He cringed, expecting an explosion, but nothing happened.
“Hold your course,” he whispered thankfully, assuming that if it were a mine, it had failed to detonate.
“Aye, Captain,” the helmsman replied anxiously. Everyone else in the control room was silent and stared nervously at the hull around them.