“Look at this, Chief,” Calhoun said, pointing to a slight hiccup running up the graphic waterfall of the SQR. “See this blip here? It showed up on the last watch. Johnny told me, when he was going off watch, that he thought it was something in the system. But I’ve gone over the system, ran diagnostics twice, and can’t find one damn thing wrong with it. When I switch to another frequency or try to get a reading on another bearing, the blip goes away.” Calhoun paused as Boyce read the display.
“It’s not us, Chief,” he added with conviction, shaking his head.
“Has the sound event remained on this constant bearing even when we turn?” Boyce asked, his eyes shifting back and forth as he analyzed the display.
“I don’t know, Chief. We haven’t turned since I came on watch, and it’s been on a constant bearing.”
If the sound event remained on the same bearing when the USS Hayler turned, then most likely it was something in the system or resonating from the destroyer itself. If the waterfall showed the anomaly drifting off the bearing during a turn, then something was out there.
“If it’s been there nearly two hours, then it’ll be there later. Run another diagnostic, Calhoun, on the system and if that doesn’t identify anything, then we’ll see if the OOD will do a course change for us.”
“Chief, trust me! Can we get him to do a turn now? I’ve run diagnostics twice and I’m telling you there ain’t nothing wrong with the system. Besides, if it is something, then it may not be out there later, Chief,” Calhoun said, gritting his teeth. He wondered if they had “dickheads” at the University of South Carolina. “I think we ought to report it.”
“Calhoun, I’ve been in the Navy nearly twenty years. Twenty years I’ve been doing this job and while I know you’ve run diagnostics, sometimes a little experience, like mine, is just the thing to spot something you’ve probably missed.” Chief Boyce patted Calhoun on the shoulder.
“So, just run the diagnostics like I told you to.” Calhoun sighed. “All right. Chief, I’ll do it. But, I’m telling you it’s a waste of time. What if …”
“I know, Calhoun, what if it’s a submarine out there,” Chief Boyce finished. ““What it’s’ bug the shit out of me. And you know why?
Well, I’ll tell you. “What ifs’ cause a lot of unnecessary work for everyone. Do you want to turn the crew out of their racks or jerk them away from the last ten minutes of the mess deck movie because we have a sound event, only to find out later that it’s a loose wire or something? Do you know what shit I’ll take in the goat locker when we finally do discover it and the old man secures from General Quarters?
“Hey, AS Wipe they’ll say, ‘seen any subs lately?” And that would be the least of your worries.”
“But, Chief, if we turn now and find we do have a submarine, then everyone is going to love the shit out of you and the captain’s gonna pin a medal, right there, on you,” Calhoun said, poking Boyce hard on the left side of his chest.
Calhoun wiped his jet-black hair off his forehead and threw his hands up in the air. “But, Chief Boyce, if we delay and it is a submarine, we may find ourselves floating in the middle of the Med like the Gearing sailors, and if that happens, then everyone will blame you.”
“Calhoun, cut the crap and get the diagnostics ready,” the chief said, rubbing his chin. What if Calhoun was right and he was wrong?
If it was a submarine and he missed it … he didn’t want to think about what would happen. Calhoun was right about one thing, though. If it was a submarine then he’d be a hero. The chief paced back and forth behind the second class as Calhoun went about the mechanics of setting up the system to run a diagnostic program that Boyce knew would take ten to twelve minutes to run. Ten to twelve minutes if they didn’t interfere or stop the testing to check out a reading.
Damn, he hated to make decisions; especially ones that had the great potential of reflecting adversely on him. September was less than seventy days away. Less than one hundred days until the Old Man ranked the chief petty officers for promotion to senior chief petty officer.
Last time he was in the bottom half of the rankings with the “Promotable” block checked, with little chance this time of moving upward. He needed at least a “Must Promote,” even if “Early Promote” was out of reach.” “Bout ready, Chief,” Calhoun said over his shoulder.
Of course, he hadn’t really done anything eye-catching this marking period except coming back late from liberty in Naples two months ago.
“Damn,” he said. Boyce believed rankings were more a case of who kept their noses clean and “butt-snorkeled” the best rather than professional expertise. His performance was as good as, if not better than, the other chiefs in the goat locker. He couldn’t do any worse than he already had, and all things considered, if Calhoun had a sub marine, then he, the chief, would reap the benefits of the discovery.
If not, he could always say how he had doubted it was a submarine, but felt the safety of the ship overrode any personal opinion. Yeah, it’d work. With a little luck, he could straddle that fence and shine with either outcome.
“Calhoun, you may be right,” he said, patting the second class petty officer on the shoulder. Shoulders made hard and firm from a daily regimen of weight lifting. “Let’s ask the watch officer if he’ll have the OOD change course a few degrees for a couple of minutes.”
“Thanks, Chief,” Calhoun replied excitedly. Damn, vanity and fear had worked again with the chief. “That’ll do it. Ten degrees will either cause the blip to move with us or change its line of bearing.” Chief Boyce might not believe it was a submarine, but Calhoun knew it was.
This was a real, live submarine and he had found it. Damn, nearly eight years in the Navy and his first submarine — exercise ones didn’t count.
“Okay, keep tracking, Calhoun. I’m going to Combat and talk with the tactical action officer. Lieutenant Frank. He’s an okay guy and if he tells the OOD to do it, then the OOD will alter course. Yeah, he’s the one to talk to.” He patted Calhoun again on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
Boyce was gone only a minute before he returned. “It’ll be a couple of minutes, Calhoun. Lieutenant Frank has to ask permission from the captain.” Boyce thought Lieutenant Frank had the flexibility to maneuver the ship without asking the captain’s permission. With the captain involved, the chance for Boyce to look bad increased. He had hoped to avoid the captain until they were sure of what they had. He wiped the sweat from his palms on his stained khaki trousers. Boyce regretted asking Lieutenant Frank to maneuver the ship. He was opening himself up to weeks — no, months — of ridicule if this proved bogus.
As they waited, Boyce and Calhoun scrutinized the display. Solid lines, millimeter-separated, flowed down the screen, displaying the underwater sound environment that surrounded the Hayler.
“Have you listened to this yet?” Chief Boyce asked.
“I tried to, Chief, but I can’t hear anything. The only thing I have is this steady blip that stays at two eight zero relative. Now if we turn ten degrees to starboard, then the blip—”
“Should be two seven zero relative. If we turn to port ten degrees, it will shift to two nine zero,” the chief finished. “Calhoun, quit trying to be a smart ass.”
“Moi? Not me, Chief, I wouldn’t be trying that,” Calhoun mocked, smiling, as he touched his chest in mock surprise. No way Chief Boyce was going to spoil this moment.
“That’s all right. You’re one good operator to catch that blip. Unless you’re looking right for it you can’t see it. and don’t go tell anyone I said that. It’d ruin my reputation. I will see that you get full credit for it.”
“Well, Chief, I really didn’t catch it. Johnny saw it during his watch. He wasn’t sure what it was.”