Wilson assumed the UUV would attack Michigan at some point, either before or after Wilson launched a torpedo. Regarding that endeavor, the first step was to determine which of the towed array bearings was the real contact and which was the false one.
Michigan’s towed array detected contacts at longer ranges than the submarine’s other acoustic sensors. However, the array was an assembly of hydrophones connected in a straight line, which meant it could not determine which side of the submarine the sound arrived from, resulting in two potential bearings to the contact — one on each side of the array. The way to resolve that question was to maneuver and evaluate what happened to the contacts on each side of the array. The correct bearing would remain relatively constant, while the false bearing would shift to a wildly different bearing to maintain the same relative position on the other side of the array.
“Helm, left twenty degrees rudder. Steady course two-seven-zero.”
After completing the ninety-degree turn, Wilson waited for the towed array to stabilize, its snaking motion gradually dissipating. After a few minutes, the array straightened out and Sonar made the awaited report.
“Conn, Sonar. Bearing ambiguity has been resolved. Master one is to the northwest.”
Lieutenant Commander Tom Montgomery, the submarine’s Executive Officer and in charge of the Fire Control Tracking Party, announced, “Set maximum speed to five knots.”
Although the UUV was capable of high-speed, short-duration bursts, it normally traveled at very low speed to extend the time between battery recharges. According to the specifications provided by Secretary Verbeck, the UUV normally transited at three to five knots, depending on the ocean current — just enough to maintain steerageway.
Montgomery stopped briefly behind each of the combat control consoles, examining the target solution on each one, eventually tapping one of the fire control technicians, who pressed a button on his console, sending an updated target solution to the torpedo.
Montgomery announced, “I have a firing solution.”
Wilson called out, “Firing Point Procedures, Master one, tube One.”
Lieutenant Ryan Jescovitch, Michigan’s Weapons Officer, acknowledged Wilson’s order and relayed it to the fire control technician at the Weapon Launch Console, who sent the engagement presets to the torpedo.
Montgomery stopped briefly behind each of the combat control consoles, examining the target solution on each one, verifying that the best target solution had been promoted to Master.
“Solution ready!” he announced.
“Weapon ready!” Jescovitch called out, verifying that the torpedo presets matched those in combat control and that the target’s solution — its course, speed, and range — had been sent to the torpedo in tube One.
“Ship ready!” Resor reported, ensuring the counterfire corridor from the UUV had been identified and that Michigan’s torpedo countermeasures were ready to deploy.
Wilson was about to order the torpedo launch when a report from Sonar came across the Control Room speakers.
“Conn, Sonar. Hold a new contact on the towed array, designated Sierra eight-six, ambiguous bearings three-five-five and one-eight-five, classified submerged. Analyzing.”
Wilson examined the sonar display on the Conn. The new contact was moving much faster than the UUV. If it was submerged, it was likely a submarine. But Michigan was the only U.S. submarine in this waterspace, which meant they had detected a foreign submarine. Firing a torpedo in this situation was perilous since the torpedo could lock on to the submarine instead of the UUV.
The issue was — modern torpedoes were artificially intelligent weapons, which had pros and cons. After launch, they would analyze the returns from the sonar in their noses, sorting through what could be a submarine or surface ship, or a decoy. Reassuring in its capability, the torpedo’s independent nature was also disconcerting. It could not distinguish between friend and foe, and there was always the possibility that the torpedo, while searching for its intended target, could lock on to the wrong one, or even the submarine that fired it.
There were safeguards to prevent that, plus a guidance wire attached to the torpedoes fired by U.S. submarines. Over the thin copper wire, the submarine’s crew could send new commands after the torpedo was launched, changing its course, depth, or other search parameters. But if the guidance wire broke, the torpedo would be on its own, deciding which target to attack.
Additionally, a torpedo launched in another submarine’s vicinity would almost assuredly prompt a counterfire, which was something Wilson wanted to avoid. That was two strikes — Michigan’s torpedo might sink the wrong target, and the foreign submarine, target or not, would likely counterfire. Wilson didn’t need a third strike to make his decision.
“Check Fire,” Wilson announced, canceling the firing order. “Designate Sierra eight-six as Master two. Track Master one and Master two.”
Inside the Sonar Room, the sonar technicians were starting to sort things out. Based on the tonal frequencies and strength, along with the lack of a broadband trace, they had already determined the new contact was submerged.
Sonar Chief Jim Moore tapped the Narrowband Operator seated before him, Petty Officer Andrew Bubb, on the shoulder. “I need a classification.”
Moore had lots of experience tracking foreign submarines, in both shore-based trainers and at sea, but the frequencies weren’t making sense; they didn’t match anything they expected to see in the Persian Gulf.
Bubb completed his analysis and looked up from his display, a confused expression on his face. “The closest match I’ve got is a Seawolf class.”
“That can’t be right,” Moore replied. “Seawolfs are U.S. submarines, and Michigan is the only American submarine authorized in this waterspace.”
“I know,” Bubb said. “But look.” He gestured toward his display. “A few of the frequencies are off, but the propulsion-related tonals are definitely Seawolf.”
Moore leaned forward, examining the frequencies over Bubb’s shoulder. He was right. Even without the automated classification algorithm flashing on the screen — SEAWOLF — Moore would have made the same call.
He relayed the information to the Sonar Coordinator beside him, who announced Master two’s classification over the sound-powered phones.
In the Control Room, Lieutenant Commander Montgomery, who was examining a display over a fire control technician’s shoulder, suddenly stood erect, a perplexed look on his face as he turned to Wilson.
“Sonar reports Master two is classified Seawolf.”
“That can’t be right,” Wilson replied.
After Montgomery verified the report had been correctly understood, Wilson went to the Sonar shack. He opened the door and poked his head in.
“What the hell is going on in here? A Seawolf can’t possibly be in our waterspace.”
“I know, Captain,” Moore replied with an exasperated look on his face. “But that’s what the tonals indicate. Whatever’s out there has definitely got a Seawolf propulsion system.”
Wilson considered the information for a minute, then returned to the Conn. As he evaluated the best path forward, a report by his Executive Officer caught him by surprise.
“Captain, the solutions for Master one and Master two are converging.”
Wilson stepped from the Conn, stopping behind one of the combat control consoles, which displayed the solutions for both contacts. Master two had slowed to a few knots faster than the UUV, and the contacts were angling toward each other. A moment later, the two contacts steadied up on the same course, with Master two closing slowly from behind until both contacts blended into a single trace on the display.