“Let’s get a maneuvering board and work this out,” Olsen said. “We want to give Orca and Devilfish the advantage of position, every advantage we can so they don’t join Sharkfin on the bottom.”
Brannon turned from the chart. “You’re assuming that I’m going to order them to go after the Soviet sub?”
“What else?” Olsen grunted.
CHAPTER 9
The surface of the sea was wine dark in the last minutes before the dawn. A sparkling crest of foam on an occasional wave made a small spot of light here and there as the slender communications array of the U.S.S. Orca rose above the water and extended upward. In the submarine’s Communications Center the radioman on watch acknowledged the Attack Center’s report that the antennas were clear of the water. He punched a button and a tape with Orca’s latitude and longitude entered on it transmitted the information in a burst of high-speed sounds. Twenty-three thousand miles overhead a Navy Communications satellite picked up the three-second-long transmission and entered it in its computer for rebroadcast to Washington. The satellite computer, alerted by the Orca’s coded identification signal, energized its storage bank and transmitter and an answering stream of signals transmitted at high speed went arrowing downward through space to the Orca’s antennas.
“Incoming traffic,” the senior radioman said to his watch mate. The two men watched a tape whir through its guides as it absorbed the message from the satellite. When the tape had stopped the radioman notified the Attack Center that the position report had been transmitted and incoming traffic received. The Orca planed downward to its normal operating depth of 400 feet. The senior man on watch removed the tape cassette from the receiving machine and put it into a decoding machine.
“Wonder what they got for us now,” he said to the other man. “Maybe it’s orders to go to some good liberty port. We ain’t doing anything out here but stooge around on some fucking exercise that even the Old Man don’t seem to know anything about.” He pushed the On button on the decoding machine and the tape began to move slowly through the machine’s printing heads. The tape stopped and a red light showed on the decoding machine as a buzzer began to sound.
“Oh, oh,” the radioman said. He punched the Off button on the decoding machine and picked up a telephone and dialed the Attack Center.
“This is Communications for the OOD,” he said. “Notify the Captain that we’ve got a Red Alert on the incoming traffic tape, sir.”
Captain Dick Reinauer came into the Communications Center, reaching for the small key that hung on a thong around his neck twenty-four hours a day. He slipped the thong over his head and nodded at the two radiomen, who stepped outside of the compartment into the passageway. Reinauer inserted the key into the decoding machine and turned it slowly to the left and then back to the right. He punched the On button on the machine and watched as a long strip of paper tape began to come out of the machine. He gathered the tape up when the machine stopped printing and nodded genially to the two radiomen as he left the compartment.
Sitting in his cabin, the Orca’s Commanding Officer smoothed the tape out on his desk and began to read the message.
“This is a combat order. Repeat. This is a combat order. It is not repeat and underline not a drill.
“A Soviet late-model attack submarine made an unprovoked attack on the U.S.S. Sharkfin as that ship was en route to its home port. Site of the attack was 252 miles west of the Strait of Gibraltar on Sharkfin’s base course of 278 degrees true.
“U.S.S. Medusa has located Sharkfin’s wreckage and obtained clear pictures of the fatal damage inflicted by a torpedo hit in Sharkfin’s stern.
“There is no repeat no doubt that a Soviet submarine made the attack that sank Sharkfin with all hands. The Soviet was footprinted on SOSUS as it followed Sharkfin and when it returned from the attack.
“The Soviet government has been informed of the attack and the photographing of Sharkfin’s wreckage. The Soviet government has been given ample opportunity to respond and explain this unwarranted and heinous attack and has refused to comment.
“The Soviet submarine that attacked Sharkfin is now back in the area. It is westbound out of Gibraltar on course 278 degrees true. It crossed the western boundary of the SOSUS array at 1800 hours last at a reported speed of 15 knots.
“You are ordered to find and sink the Soviet submarine. Repeat. Find and sink the Soviet submarine. Similar orders are issued to Devilfish. Co-ordinate your attack as you see fit.
“You will not divulge this message to anyone other than your XO. You will inform your Wardroom and crew that Orca and Devilfish are engaged in a tactical weapons exercise to find and destroy a sophisticated new target which simulates the sounds of an enemy submarine. God be with you. Signed Vice Admiral Michael P. Brannon, ComSubLant.”
Captain Reinauer cut the tape into six-inch-long strips and carefully peeled the backing from each strip and pressed the tape’s gummed backing onto a sheet of paper. He tugged at his black beard as he read through the message for the second time and then he buzzed for his Executive Officer. Lieutenant Commander Eckert came into his cabin and Reinauer handed him the message. Eckert read it and looked up, his face pale.
“My God, Skipper, this means we’re at war!”
“I don’t think so,” Reinauer said slowly. “This message went only to us and to the Devilfish. If we were at war it would go to all ships. It could be one of Iron Mike’s exercises to make us think we’re in a combat situation so he can evaluate our readiness. There just might be a new type of target out there that we have to find and destroy.”
“There might be but you don’t really believe that,” Eckert said. “Mike Brannon’s a tough man and he’s hell on readiness but I don’t think he’d do something this far out, do you?”
“No,” Reinauer said quietly. “I have to believe what this message says, that some Russian submarine sank the Sharkfin. I think it might have happened when Devilfish left Holy Loch so suddenly a while back. Then when Moscow clammed up he sent us down here to get the Russian.” He reached in his desk drawer and pulled out a chart of the area, a pair of dividers and a set of parallel rulers.
“Get me the computer readout of our position and where Devilfish is.” He positioned the parallel rulers over the compass rose on the chart and carefully moved the rulers until he could draw a course line of 278 degrees true out of the Strait of Gibraltar. Using the dividers he measured off 252 miles along the course line and placed a small “S” on the line. Eckert came back into the cabin with the information Reinauer had requested and then Reinauer marked in the position of the Orca and Devilfish. He marked in a small “R” on the course line.
“We’re almost dead ahead of the Russian if he keeps coming along that course line,” he said slowly. “We’re closer to him than Devilfish. He’s coming right down our throat.” He used the dividers. “Devilfish is a good thirty miles away from the target.” He sat back in his chair and rubbed his bearded chin.
“Damn it, we’re too close together to talk to Devilfish. The other guy will hear us. We’ll have to play it by ear, try to figure out what Bob Miller in Devilfish will do.”