//TOP SECRET//
//FLASH//FLASH//FLASH//
//260653Z FEB//
FM COMSUBLANT//
TO COMSUBRON SIX//
USS ALBANY//
SUBJ/ASW TASKING/IMMEDIATE EXECUTE//
REF/A/RMG/CNO/260547Z FEB//
NARR/REF A IS CHIEF OF NAVAL OPERATIONS TACTICAL SUMMARY OF LIVE-FIRE HOSTILITIES IN VICINITY OF CUBAN NAVAL BLOCKADE.//
1. (SECR) AS OUTLINED IN REF A, U.S. NAVY SURFACE UNITS IN THE CARIBBEAN SEA WERE ATTACKED BY AN UNIDENTIFIED HIGH-SPEED SUBMARINE AT APPROXIMATELY 0411Z. GUIDED MISSILE DESTROYER USS MAHAN WAS SUNK BY SUBMERGED WEAPON CURRENTLY ASSESSED AS POSSIBLE SUPERCAVITATING TORPEDO. PERSONNEL CASUALTIES HIGH.
2. (SECR) ACCOMPANYING GUIDED MISSILE DESTROYER, USS BOWIE, WAS NOT TARGETED BY HOSTILE SUBMARINE FOR REASONS UNKNOWN AT THIS TIME. BOTH DESTROYERS ENGAGED CONTACT WITH VERTICAL LAUNCH ANVILS. WEAPONS ACQUIRED TARGET BUT FAILED TO INTERCEPT DUE TO EXTREME SPEED DISADVANTAGE.
3. (SECR) BASED ON IN-SITU TARGET MOTION ANALYSIS, SUBMARINE CONTACT MAY HAVE REACHED SPEEDS EXCEEDING THREE-HUNDRED (300) KNOTS. ACOUSTIC DATA COLLECTED BY USS BOWIE SUPPORTS THE POSSIBILITY OF NEW/UNKNOWN SUPERCAVITATING PROPULSION SYSTEM.
4. (SECR) HOSTILE SUBMARINE IS ASSUMED TO BE NORTH KOREAN IN ORIGIN, BUT THIS CANNOT CURRENTLY BE VERIFIED.
5. (TS) SUBOPAUTH CONFIRMS NO FRIENDLY SUBMARINES WITHIN TWO-HUNDRED (200) NAUTICAL MILES OF CUBAN BLOCKADE ZONE.
6. (SECR) LAST KNOWN POSITION OF HOSTILE SUBMARINE WAS LATITUDE 18.55N/LONGITUDE 79.06W, TIME 0413Z. LAST ESTIMATED COURSE WAS 218 DEGREES.
7. (TS) USS ALBANY IS DIRECTED TO RELOCATE, ENGAGE, AND DESTROY ALL UNKNOWN SUBMARINE CONTACTS IN THIS AREA.
8. (UNCL) GOOD LUCK AND GOOD HUNTING! ADMIRAL POTTER SENDS.
//260653Z FEB//
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//TOP SECRET//
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Pooler lowered the clipboard. “Skipper, this has got to be our anomalous contact from yesterday morning. The one that started out looking like an old Han class boat, and then kicked into hyper drive.”
“Sierra Two-Three,” the captain said. “I guess we can shit-can our theory about a software glitch in the BQQ-10.”
Pooler shook his head. “There’s no such thing as a supercavitating submarine. And if there was such a thing, it wouldn’t be built by the North Koreans. Those boneheads can barely handle indoor plumbing.”
“Maybe we’ve become a little too accustomed to underestimating them,” the captain said. “Those ‘boneheads’ have managed to build nuclear reactors and nuclear warheads, in spite of our best efforts to stop them. And they just blew away a U.S. Navy destroyer. They evidently have more on the ball than we give them credit for.”
“I can’t argue with you there, sir,” Master Chief Pooler said. “But a supercavitating drive system for a submarine would take a quantum leap in propulsion technology. I just can’t believe North Korea is capable of that.”
Captain Townsend reached for the message clipboard. “Where the thing came from is irrelevant, COB. The North Koreans could have picked it up at Superweapons-R-Us; I honestly don’t give a damn. All we need to know is that it’s real; it’s out there, and it’s sinking our ships.”
CHAPTER 22
The helo pilot’s voice came over the Navy Red speaker in Combat Information Center. “Bowie, this is Sky Wolf Four-Three. Mark my position, we’ve got another one. Over.”
Captain Heller lifted the Navy Red handset to his ear and keyed the transmit button. He waited a half-second for the crypto burst, a rapid string of warbling tones that the UHF transceiver used to synchronize its encrypted signal with the secure communications satellite. “Roger, Sky Wolf. Is this one alive? Over.”
There was another warble of synchronizing crypto. “This is Sky Wolf Four-Three, that’s a negative. Floating face down with no indications of movement. Over.”
Heller keyed the circuit again. “Understood, Sky Wolf. Your position is marked. Resume search. Out.”
He lowered the handset. Another body. That brought the tally to nine so far, plus three survivors. Only twelve crew members located, out of the Mahan’s complement of 281, and three-quarters of those scant few were dead.
Of the three survivors, one was fighting for her life in the Bowie’s sickbay; another was nearly as critical; and the third had escaped with minor burns, contusions, and a ruptured eardrum.
The search would be easier now that the sun was up, assuming that there was anyone else to find. Anyone who had not been vaporized by the explosion, or trapped inside either half of the sunken wreck.
There was no point in sending for rescue divers. Whatever was left of the Mahan was lying at the bottom of the Cayman Trench, under about 3,000 fathoms of water. The pressure at that depth was more than 8,000 pounds per square inch. Enough to crush the ship’s hull like an aluminum can.
The Bowie’s sonar operators had probably heard the implosion over their headphones. Possibly the audio had been recorded. Heller knew the ASW suite’s acoustic processors were capable of that, but he was being very careful not to ask. If such a recording existed, he absolutely did not want to hear it.
A voice broke over the tactical net, diverting his thoughts from unwelcome speculation about what the death of a ship might sound like.
“TAO — Air Two. Daniel Boone has visual ident.”
Air Two was the secondary aircraft detachment, in charge of operating and maintaining the ship’s trio of MQ-8B Fire Scout Unmanned Aerial Vehicles. In honor of the ‘Scout’ designation, the UAV team had named each of the three helicopter-style drones for famous explorers: Daniel Boone, Magellan, and Marco Polo.
Currently, Daniel Boone was overflying the area where the Motor Vessel Lecticula had gone down, searching for survivors (or bodies). The report of “visual ident” meant that the drone’s chin-mounted camera had spotted something worth looking at.
This morning, the Tactical Action Officer was Lieutenant Amy Faulk. She keyed her mike. “TAO, aye. Calling it up now.”
She tapped a sequence of soft-keys on her console and the video feed from the Fire Scout temporarily displaced the view from topside camera #5. On the big display monitor, a metal drum floated nearly awash in the waves. Clinging to it were two men, both visibly nearing the end of their strength reserves. One wore a camouflage uniform jacket, and the other appeared to be dressed in civilian attire. Presumably a member of the North Korean commando team, and one of the ship’s crew.
Watching the screen, Heller knew what he was supposed to do next. He was supposed to dispatch a boat with a SAR swimmer, to pluck these survivors from the water.
Under Article 16 of the Hague Conventions, he was obligated to save their lives, even though they were enemy combatants. He was expected to ignore the fact that they’d been smuggling nuclear missiles into Cuba to threaten U.S. cities.
Heller wanted to shoot the bastards. Instead, the law required him to rescue their sorry asses.
The video feed bobbed and jostled slightly as the Fire Scout’s stabilized camera did its best to compensate for sporadic gusts of wind.
Heller was sorely tempted to leave the enemy survivors to fend for themselves. There was a sort of loophole in Article 16 that might help him get away with it. Something about only being required to render aid ‘so far as military interests permit.’