“That might not be a bad idea,” said the XO. “Run several sets of predictions using various sonar configurations that might plausibly be available to the North Koreans. Then take the worst-case as our assumed counter-detection range. It might come in handy if we’re trying to develop tactics for sneaking up on this guy.”
“I agree,” said Captain Heller. “Which raises the next logical question. If we can manage to slip in close to this contact, what are we supposed to do when we get there?”
This led to a period of thoughtful silence, punctuated only by the shuffling of bodies in chairs and occasional sips from one coffee cup or another.
“It’s all about the speed differential,” said the CSO finally. “We don’t have any weapons fast enough to catch this damned submarine. It can outrun Mark-48 ADCAPs. It can outrun our Mark-54s, whether we shoot them over-the-side, or throw them with ASROC. And every air-dropped ASW weapon in our arsenal is built around some variation of the 54, so helos and P-8s are no better off than we are.”
“What about non-ASW weapons?” asked Ensign Moore. “How about regular aerial bombs? Get a fix on this guy, and have B-52s drop daisy cutters or bunker busters on his ass until he’s just a hole in the water.”
“I like how you’re thinking,” said the XO, “but I’m not sure that’s practical. I’ve seen feasibility studies for a similar tactic in ASW chokepoints like the Strait of Hormuz. The likelihood of success is considered relatively high where the bottom depth is fifty fathoms or less, and the area is topographically enclosed to constrain the explosive force. Under those conditions, you get the shockwave reflecting off the bottom, the water hammer effect, and an overall magnification of destructive power. It doesn’t work so well when the water gets deep and the topography opens out. You lose the bottom reverberation, and your shockwave gets bled off by spherical spreading and volume absorption. The probability of a kill falls off pretty rapidly.”
“I haven’t looked at a bathymetry chart in a while,” said Captain Heller, “but I think the average bottom depth in the Caribbean is somewhere around sixteen-hundred fathoms. The topography is wide open. That doesn’t sound like a good fit for the carpet bombing idea.”
“I guess not, sir,” said Ensign Moore.
The captain regarded the junior officer. “Don’t let it bug you, Todd. That was a good idea. Definitely out of the box, and that’s exactly what we’re looking for. It doesn’t fit our current tactical situation, but it’s precisely the kind of thinking we need, so keep at it.”
The ensign nodded. “Will do, sir.”
“What about mines?” asked the Combat Systems Officer. “We could lay a minefield somewhere, and then lure the contact into it.”
“Same basic problem,” the captain said. “Bottom depth. You can’t lay moored mines in nearly 10,000 feet of water, and I seriously doubt that SOUTHCOM will risk drifting mines in the Caribbean.”
“So we’re back to the speed differential,” said Chief Scott. “I keep wondering if there’s some way we can increase the speed of our weapons. When I say ‘we,’ I don’t mean us, obviously. But what about Raytheon? They build the Mark-48 and the Mark-54. Maybe they’ve got something in R&D — a prototype or something — that can go fast enough to catch this guy. Sacrifice run time to crank the speed way up there. Something like that.”
He shrugged. “I’m not a weapons engineer, but there’s just got to be somebody somewhere working on this kind of thing.”
His pronouncement triggered another interval of silence and coffee drinking.
It was a problem that none of them had ever expected to face. They had all studied, and trained, and honed their skills at using the current generation of weapons to maximum effect. Not one of them had ever considered the possibility that their weapons might be inadequate to the task.
Heller suspected that there were similar conversations taking place aboard USS Albany, at SOUTHCOM, in the Pentagon, in the White House Situation Room, and probably two dozen other places where military minds gathered to problem solve. He wondered if anyone in any of those other gatherings had the slightest clue of what to do.
His thoughts were interrupted by a strange sound from the least experienced member of the ASW team. He glanced over to see Ensign Moore with an odd look in his eyes.
“Todd? Have you got something?”
The ensign stared into space without responding.
Heller raised his voice a notch and tried again. “Are you still with us, Todd?”
The junior officer’s eyes remained unfocused for another few seconds. Then he gave a little twitch and seemed to snap back to reality.
Heller smiled. “Did you take a little vacation there, Mr. Moore?”
The ensign lifted his coffee cup and then sat it back down without taking a drink. “Have you ever heard of a Sea Bat, sir?”
This brought confused looks from everyone at the table. Sea bats were fictional creatures, and a long running gag in the Navy. The stuff of bad practical jokes played on unsuspecting newbies. In a similar vein to mail buoys and relative bearing grease.
Before anyone could ask the ensign to elaborate on this strange turn of subject, he continued without prompting. “I was just thinking, Captain. We’re running in circles trying to figure out how to make our weapons go faster. But what if going faster is not the answer? What if the real secret is to go slower? Much slower.”
“You’re going to need to explain that,” said the XO.
“I will,” said Ensign Moore.
And he did.
CHAPTER 50
Vice Admiral Matthew Cook held up a folder and flapped it in the direction of his Deputy Commander. “Have you seen this, Benny?”
Lieutenant General Benito Herrera eyed the fluttering folder and gave a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t have on my soothsayer’s hat today, sir. So you’ll have to give me a hint regarding which particular ‘this’ we’re talking about.”
“Flash traffic from USS Bowie, routed via Fourth Fleet. It’s their proposed plan of action for going after that North Korean submarine.”
Herrera nodded. “The Sea Bat thing? I’ve seen it. In fact, that was on my list of things to discuss with you this afternoon.”
“Well, discuss away,” said the admiral. “What do you think about it?”
“You know me,” Herrera said. “I’m just a dumbass Air Force boy. I’m not qualified to render an opinion on all your fancy navular strategeries.”
“Belay the dumb-shit routine,” said Admiral Cook. “You’re the sharpest tactical mind I know, Benny, and I want your opinion on this.”
“I’m up in the air about it,” said the general. “It’s either the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard, or it’s pure gold-plated genius. I honestly can’t decide which.”
The admiral tossed the folder onto a teetering pile of papers that littered his desk. “Neither can I. But my inclination is to approve the plan. Let them give it a try.”
“You might as well, sir” said General Herrera. “Because the one thing we know for sure is that nothing else is working.”
CHAPTER 51
Rick Kramer almost let the call go to voicemail. He’d already sent his last emails of the workday and his laptop was in the final stages of the Windows shutdown sequence. Fifteen more seconds and he would have been out the door.