Must be the new man to lead the Newport reduction gear repair effort.
Carter and the newcomer entered the office.
Gerry said, “Dave Zane, meet Darby Cameron.”
Chapter 12
Eric Danis thought, He sure is a teacher, during his interview with Commander Jim Buchanan, USN, the new prospective commander of Denver. He had initially discovered Buchanan’s knack for building student confidence by reading records of his past assignments at the United States Navy Submarine School. Danis hoped the command change would restore the morale of Denver’s officers, who he believed to chafe under Captain Bostwick’s bit.
Danis asked, “I’m trying to recall. Did our paths ever cross?”
The new man spoke with a trace of New England twang. “They did, Commodore, though I’d be surprised if you remembered me. You were exec on board the tender in Holy Loch in seventy-nine when I was on a Boomer. My first assignment out of sub school.”
“Well, I’m sure if I thought about it, I’d fit you into some of the great memories I have of that wonderful place.”
Jim Buchanan’s face brightened as he remembered. “It is nice there. My wife met me after a patrol in the summer of eighty. We spent two weeks together and had a wonderful time.”
“Eve and I loved it there too. We managed to get a few beautiful weekends in the West Highlands. It’s easy to see why the Scots have such passion for their land.”
“Sir, this is my first visit to the Pacific Northwest and it reminds me very much of Scotland. It’s rustic and untamed by comparison to the rest of the country. Don’t you think so, sir?”
“Now that you mention it, Jim, I do see the resemblance. But we have a ways to go to fully measure up.”
Jim agreed, “Quite a way if we’re to match the Scottish cost of living. But we do have a start, don’t we, sir?”
“That we do, Jim, that we do.” Then getting down to business, Eric continued, “You’re getting a helluva fine ship with Denver. As you probably know, they’re just out of overhaul and in pretty good shape. Only problem is they’re in WestPac and not due back for a month.”
“Well let’s hope it’s with a few scalps in her belt. We need some good news for a change. In the meantime, sir, I have no illusions about the future commanding officer bit. Please put me to work wherever there’s a hole I can fill. I’ve been sitting on my duff at submarine school the past three years and I’m ready to put my hands back on some hardware, even if it’s a knuckle-buster. You’ve worked a miracle out here and I want to be part of it. Just give me a steer and I’m off.”
“I appreciate your attitude, Jim. I understand you taught in the Tactics Department at sub school. I’d like you to review our weapons overhaul setup and then give some thought to an ASW defense scheme we’ve worked up. Lieutenant Commander Dutch Meyer runs both operations and can use the help.”
Jim laughed then said, “Not the same Dutch Meyer from Holy Loch. That turkey was a lieutenant when I first showed up as a JG. He ran my ass all over the tender. I probably needed it, but don’t tell him that now that I rank him.”
Danis said with mock caution, “Well don’t be too hard on him.”
“Nobody in the whole Navy could be tough on Dutch. It’ll be a pleasure working with him again.”
“Now, about quarters. I’m spending my evenings at home ashore and you’re welcome to these.”
Jim smiled, showing his appreciation for the offer. Quite tempting, but an established custom of the service is that generous offers by high-ranking officers are expected, but always politely declined.
“I’m afraid I might get too used to this. Thank you, sir, but I’ll find a place to stash the bones.”
“Well then,” Danis replied, “Welcome to the Pitstop. It’s good to have you here.”
“It’s damn good to be here, sir.”
At battle stations aboard USS Denver, Captain Bostwick ordered, “Give me the course for a thirty degree lead,” as they closed upon the first big game of the patrol, an Alfa class submarine.
Brent thought,Damn it. The typical attack trainer solution. When the hell will Bostwick realize this is not a drill to be graded by the Squadron Commander and cited in his next fitness report? This is war and for all the marbles. “Recommend point the target with no lead, Captain. He’s too close to worry about torpedo run. This’ll reduce his chance of hearing us and we can shoot into his baffles.”
Captain Bostwick did not respond immediately, but after a moment, he ordered, “Rudder amidships, steady.”
The helmsman responded with, “Amidships, steady two-three-five, Captain.”
Bostwick gave progressive rudder orders which kept Denver’s bow in a tight point on the target as it rumbled by to the West, not more than a mile away.
Brent thought, Those arrogant bastards. They’re making fifteen knots and more noise than a sea bag full of broken dishes. He learned during earlier surveillance operations they could be much quieter at those speeds. Maybe it exceeds the Alfa Soviet comprehension that a U.S. submarine could reach this position undetected.
“Tubes one and two fully ready, Captain,” reported Brent. “Presets entered and matched,” having already advised the skipper but believed he needed a subtle reminder.
“Want to be sure he’s beyond enable range before we shoot.”
The executive officer said, “Target speed fifteen, Captain. That’s 500 yards every sixty seconds.”
Even the XO wants to shoot now, Brent thought. This guy can accelerate and go fast, maybe more than fifty knots. Wait too long and an ADCAP will have a helluva time catching up.
A minute went by. Two minutes. Brent could stand it no more. “Recommend shoot, Captain.”
The captain continued with Attack Teacher doctrine. “Match bearings and shoot.”
Brent reasoned, With the target twenty-five hundred yards away, matching bearings takes valuable time and adds nothing to success probability. He disregarded Bostwick’s command and quickly ordered, “Fire one!”
The ACC operator activated the launch key.
Sonar reported, “ADCAP running on the bearing and masking target, Conn.”
The captain asked, “Doppler enable in?”
Brent replied, “In sir. We have wire continuity.”
Denver continued to communicate with the weapon as it sped toward the target. The display on the MK 81 console presented a chart of the attack area in miniature. It included Denver’s, the target’s and the torpedo’s positions, continuously upgraded. All eyes, except the ever-wary Brent’s, focused on the console. He scanned other visual indicators in the Attack Center, particularly those transmitted from sonar.
First, it appeared as a flicker, a transient in submarine jargon on the Acoustic Intercept Receiver display. The second flicker damn sure wasn’t a transient and the third one confirmed it.
The calm sound of Brent’s voice did not reflect the churning in the pit of his stomach as he announced, “Inbound torpedo in the water, not ours.”
Fear on Bostwick’s face and in his voice, he asked, “Where?”
“No bearing, Captain,” then Brent ordered, “Ahead flank, left full rudder. Torpedo’s gotta be coming from the target. There it is on the AIR, sir. I’m launching a countermeasure. Torpedo Room, flood and release ETC (Electronic Torpedo Countermeasure).”