Father and daughter listened in stunned silence to the unthinkable. Visited by a host of emotions, Dave felt gratitude his beloved Dale had to see none of this in her lifetime and it saddened him to reflect upon the impact it would have on Bea’s future.
The recent conversation with Eric Danis came to mind. His friend had urged him to make the trip, likely for good reason. Dave hoped Eric had made it to sea and survived.
Captain 1st Rank Igor Sherensky, commanding officer of the Soviet nuclear submarine Marshall Zhukov, reined in his exhilaration. He dare not let it affect performance of the critical task-at-hand, sinking the mighty U.S. nuclear-powered attack aircraft carrier, Savo Island. A three second view through Zhukov’s attack periscope showed the giant ship lumbering toward him at a full twenty-five knots. The periscope video camera, peri-viz, recorded information to refine target range, course and speed well beyond the precision needed for a successful attack. For two weeks, Zhukov trailed the aircraft carrier.
Upon receipt of a prearranged signal, she moved ahead of Savo Island to prepare for an attack. All over the world, Soviet submarines deployed successfully in coordinated attacks against the U.S. aircraft carrier fleet and nullified it.
Zhukov and her sisters bore the North Atlantic Treaty Organization designation, Akula class.
Initial Soviet land attack warheads destroyed those carriers that remained in port or in overhaul. These victories dealt a severe blow to the Americans who had bet everything on survival of their carriers. It certainly appeared there would soon be none, leaving the U.S. Navy scrambling to recover control over their vital sea lanes
Captain Sherensky could not believe his good fortune. He had reached the best possible attack position, seven miles ahead of the carrier and within twenty degrees of her monstrous bow.
The captain ordered, “Make all torpedoes ready, Comrade Baknov. We cannot miss with this setup.”
Their target cooperated by running at high speed. Radiated noise from the carrier’s immense propulsion system further obscured the already silent Zhukov and diminished counter-detection probability by Anti-Submarine-Warfare surface ships. Savo Island’s sole self-defense measure consisted of the near futile World War II zigzag course.
Lieutenant Vasiliy Baknov would not permit excitement of the moment to stampede him into making an error. He ordered the ET 80A torpedoes to run at a depth of twenty-five meters and set the warheads to detonate in the magnetic influence created as the steel giant passed overhead. The target’s back would be broken by detonations below her keel.
The young officer rechecked his ordered settings.
Vasiliy Baknov viewed a U.S. aircraft carrier through the periscope during an earlier peacetime exercise to measure Zhukov’s ability to reach an effective attack position undetected. The target’s vast size captivated him. He considered production costs of these behemoths drained even abundant resources of capitalist America.
Captain Sherensky announced, “Comrades, attack commences in five minutes.”
The zampolit, Zhukov’s political officer Commander Poplavich, added, “We embark the Motherland on the road to world communism.”
Sherensky thought, Leave it to our half-assed political commissar to make speeches at a time like this. He detested Poplavich, who took up space aboard Zhukov and contributed nothing to her mission.
Lieutenant Baknov wondered. Perhaps we’ll become the victims.
Peacetime surveillance against the U.S. Navy succeeded beyond their wildest hopes, but concern grew over whether American 688 class submarines were present as escorts and monitored the Akulas from the onset. Lieutenant Baknov feared the hunter might become the hunted.
A U.S. Advanced Capability torpedo, ADCAP, fired at point blank range would add Zhukov to the ocean’s long list of victims now resting on the bottom. He reasoned the interdiction attack probability by an enemy submarine diminished in proportion to Zhukov’s distance from her target. If an American submarine tracked them, the time to initiate an attack had passed.
Captain Sherensky ordered, “To depth 60 meters. We will attack on sonar bearings. The target gives no sign he knows we are here and continues to close the range. What is the time to torpedo launch?”
Lieutenant Baknov could barely contain his excitement. “A minute twenty seconds, Comrade Captain.”
“Good. Then launch when the target reaches firing bearing.”
The lieutenant replied with an excited voice, “Yes, Comrade Captain!” and then counted off time till torpedo launch. “Sixty seconds … thirty … ten … five, four, three, two, one … launch torpedoes!”
Zhukov shuddered in the manner of all submarines expelling weapons. Four ET 80A torpedoes surged from their launchers and began their runs toward the unsuspecting Savo Island.
Captain Sherensky demanded, “Time till detonation?”
The sound of an explosion interrupted Lieutenant Baknov’s reply. Three more quickly followed, as all four torpedoes hit. No surprise at such a short range.
A cheer went up throughout Zhukov to celebrate the first kill by a Soviet submarine in fifty-two years.
“Sonar, search carefully,” Sherensky ordered, fearing the possibility of attack by an escorting submarine.
“No new contacts, Comrade Captain. Only the aircraft carrier and escorting surface ships.”
Neither Sherensky nor Baknov understood how the Americans could be so naive. The captain thought, Had they really based their entire naval strategy upon the survival of fifteen aircraft carriers known to be defenseless against nuclear-powered attack submarines? Do they consider us buffoons, or do they enact this merely to throw us off guard, the real plan to follow.
Sherensky could not resist getting a view of his triumph. “Come to twenty meters.”
The diving officer replied, “To twenty meters.”
The Zampolit Poplavich, concerned the alerted Americans might detect them, demanded, “Comrade Captain, is this wise?”
“Consider the importance of showing our people the photographic evidence of the enemy sea giant’s death, comrade. It will prove your great value to the party.”
Sherensky knew how to butter up the zampolit. Poplavich made no response, his assent assumed.
Savo Island lay dead in the water and listed fifteen degrees to starboard, down by the bow with smoke billowing from a major rupture amidships. Analysis of the peri-viz tape showed Savo Island a doomed ship, sinking faster than Sherensky imagined. The carrier disappeared and the periscope field showed only tiny spots in the water, heads of some hundred or so surviving crewmembers.
The elated zampolit declared, “The softheaded Americans will rush to their aid. We will stand off a safe distance, Comrade Captain, and attack the rescuers with cruise missiles.”
The captain pleaded, “Attacking ships while recovering survivors counters a thousand years of tradition.”
Zampolit Poplavich snapped back, “You are reminded, comrade, World Communization requires overturning tradition. Be mindful that rescued men will mend and rise again to fight the Motherland with a terrible resolve.”
Slaughtering helpless men in the water will probably increase American resolve by a factor of ten, thought Sherensky. He did not share this, for arguing with the zampolit is unwise and could result in a nine-millimeter headache.