John O'Brien - Reckoning

With a smile, Leonard states, “Very well, gentlemen, thank you. I’ll make the announcement and we’ll prepare to strike west.”

The announcement causes the reaction that Leonard anticipated. Hope, which had been riding high as they proceeded south, falls as his words echo throughout the sub. The mood among the crew is somber and subdued. They go about their tasks, but there is a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

Striking west, the Santa Fe glides under the Pacific swells. Leonard periodically alters their course in a zigzag fashion to cover a wider area. The sub creeps quietly, listening for any sounds that might indicate the fleet’s location. The main body will most likely be surrounded by escorts with subs farther out silently patrolling the waters.

Leonard isn’t positive that the destruction of San Diego was from one of their own and proceeds cautiously. Even if it was—and he thinks that is the most likely scenario—the sheer fact that they nuked the city is a testament that tensions are running high. It may be that, if the Santa Fe was discovered, they would be fired upon before the fleet, or anyone else for that matter, ascertained if they were friend or foe.

Keeping the radar off, Leonard sporadically has the boat brought to periscope depth to sweep the area. This puts them at a greater risk but he has to walk a fine line between keeping secure under the depths and locating the fleet, if it’s even at sea. They very well could be in Guam, or Hawaii, or anywhere else for that matter. Steering at intervals to the northwest and southeast, they slowly crawl westward.

“Sir, transient noises on a bearing of 260 degrees,” a sonarman calls.

“Distance and type?” Leonard asks upon reaching the small room.

“Unknown at this time, sir. It’s faint and sounds like metal against metal coming at almost regular intervals,” the sailor answers.

“Screws noises?”

“Not that I can hear, sir.”

“Put it on the speaker,” Leonard orders.

The small overhead speaker comes to life. Filters have removed the normal sounds of the ocean so the noise comes in clear; a faint booming metallic clang comes through the speaker every few seconds. At intervals, there is a screeching sound of metal dragging against metal.

“What do you think?” Leonard asks the operator.

“It’s hard to say, sir, but if I had to hazard a guess, I would say it’s two ships rubbing against each other with the swells. It has too much reverberation to be break-up sounds and two pieces of metal, no matter how large, wouldn’t cause that kind of echo.”

“Very well. Keep a close ear for screws. If it’s the fleet, someone has to be moving,” Leonard states.

“Aye, sir. I’ve listed the noise as contact Sierra One.”

Entering the control room, Leonard orders the boat deep, rigs for silent running, and sets a course slightly offset from the noise. Soon, they’ll be able to gauge distance from the change in bearing. If they have found the fleet, there will escorts, and Leonard will have to signal them at some point. Until then, he has to assume the noise is being generated from an unfriendly source and proceed accordingly. He needs screw noises in order to ascertain who is out there.

The bearing changes indicate that the transient noise is just less than twenty miles out. Leonard closes to fifteen miles and pauses, listening. They should easily hear the screw noises of the escorts from this distance. They wouldn’t be able to hear the patrolling subs unless they were within three miles, but there should be destroyers on the perimeter. The sub’s position should place them close to or inside the outer screen and near the inner screen of ships. He and his officers are without answer as to why they can’t hear any active escorts.

“Perhaps it’s not the fleet, but two ships that happened to sail into each other,” the XO offers.

“That’s one possibility,” Leonard replies.

Only using their controls to keep their position in the current, Leonard has the Santa Fe lay quiet, listening for the screen of escorts that should be out there. He feels confident that he’s found the fleet’s location, but it is only a gut feeling. It could very well be that the XO is correct and they’ve only found a couple of drifting ships that have collided with each other. All of the signs point to that scenario, but Leonard still isn’t sure. For that reason, he’ll work with the assumption that the sound they hear is the fleet parked fifteen miles to the west of them.

Any sub escort will be assigned a sector to patrol, based on perceived threats. Leonard has the sub stay in position, hoping to hear any indication of an escort crossing their path or venturing into their passive detection range. Hearing nothing after an hour of monitoring, Leonard orders the Santa Fe on a quiet ascent to periscope depth.

He has the sonar team listen for a few more minutes to see if they’ve drawn any attention. Even though they don’t hear any screw revolutions churning the water, that doesn’t mean whoever is up there isn’t paying attention. They could have ASW helicopters out and, with the boat being this close to the surface, it would be easy for the aircraft to pick out the sub’s magnetic anomaly.

The operator gives a negative regarding any sounds. Leonard contemplates an active ping from the sonar, but the transient sounds are on the edge of detection in ideal conditions. It would only serve to give away their position. He has the periscope raised and does a quick three-hundred sixty degree sweep to clear the area. There is nothing in view except the gentle rolling Pacific swells as they wallow across the vast ocean.

“One sweep on the radar and prepare to dive deep,” Leonard orders.

The radar beam radiates from the Santa Fe , carrying outward and fading where nothing is found and returning an echo when it comes into contact with a solid object. The single sweep fills the radar screen with numerous blips. There isn’t any recognizable formation to the returned echoes and all appear to be placed at random.

No sound is heard from the towed array. Leonard waits just below the surface for a few moments, the tension palpable within the control room. All eyes dart from Leonard, to the sonar room, to their instruments, and back to Leonard, waiting for any word of contact and the order to dive.

“Another sweep if you please,” Leonard requests.

There is no rapid escalation of noise as escorts push their turbines up to full speed to pursue a radar contact. Instead, the radar returns the same blips, all in the same position. Leonard notes the smaller blips that would be escort ships, several medium-sized objects that would be support ships, and one large one that can only be the return of a carrier. There seems to be little rhyme or reason to the placement of the vessels, but Leonard knows he’s just verified his gut feeling, they’ve found the fleet that was docked at San Diego.

Normally, being painted from an unknown radar this close would spur the ships into action. However, nothing changes. There isn’t any increase in screw sounds of ships steaming out to locate and identify them. As a matter of fact, there aren’t any screw sounds to be heard at all. Without seeing a response to their radar sweeps, Leonard holds the sub in its current position.

“Send a flash message on the fleet frequency identifying ourselves and requesting contact,” Leonard orders.

The message is sent and long minutes drag by without a reply. An uneasy feeling begins to stir within Leonard, threatening to sink into his very core. If they have found the fleet but no one is home, that means families and loved ones are gone as well. If that turns out to be the case, it will become difficult to hold the crew together, or at least keep them focused toward a common goal. Some will want to go inland to see if they can find any of their family members. The common breakages that normally occur toward the end of a cruise—the crew breaking things in order to put toward port earlier—will begin happening with regularity.