Larry Bond - Cold Choices

They’d had a bad scare earlier when they watched a seamount appear from out of the depths. In a little over three minutes, the bottom went from 128 fathoms beneath the keel to 47 fathoms. Fortunately, the seamount was right where it was supposed to be. Seawolf came up to 150 feet, 25 fathoms, to clear the obstacle.

Everyone on board remembered the vivid photos of USS San Francisco in the drydock after her high-speed interaction with an undersea mountain. Jerry was pleased that they weren’t taken by surprise. And then it happened.

The depth under the keel changed from twenty-two fathoms to ten in less than a minute, and that was with Seawolf creeping at five knots. There was nothing on the chart to indicate a rapid change in the bottom contour. In fact, there was no depth marking near their position at all— mare incognita.

“Yellow sounding!” shouted QM2 Dunn.

The warning call, “yellow sounding,” alerted the OOD that the ship was entering potentially dangerous depths and required immediate action. A red sounding meant you were at the limit of the captain’s comfort zone and the OOD needed to call him immediately, in addition to any other actions. The actual warning depths themselves were chosen by the commanding officer. Given the uncertainty in their charts, Rudel had chosen a healthy ten fathoms for the yellow sounding and eight fathoms for the red sounding.

Jerry’s “Recommend we slow to three knots” was matched by the OOD’s order. They spoke at the same moment, then looked at each other and smiled, but only briefly. The OOD also changed Seawolf’s depth to 125 feet, just to be safe.

In another time, another place, Jerry had used UUVs to scout the bottom in front of an advancing sub, but there were none to spare here. Patty and LaVerne were both out, and Seawolf was headed for Patty’s recovery point. Maxine was in the torpedo room being prepped for her next run.

“Recommend turn to port, new course zero five zero.” That was at right angles to their old course. There was little on the chart to recommend port over starboard, but the coast lay some distance to starboard.

“Left standard rudder, steady on course zero five zero.” Greg Wolfe was OOD again, and followed Jerry’s recommendation almost before he finished. As Seawolf’s wung onto her new heading, Wolfe asked simply, “Depth?”

“I dunno, Greg. You’ve pretty much run out of our allowed depth band. We’ve only got twenty-five more feet left to play with. We’ve still got twelve fathoms under our keel. We can afford to wait a beat.”

At speed, Seawolf could turn almost like an aircraft, but creeping at three knots, her bow took almost a minute to swing ninety degrees. Jerry watched as the fathometer showed twelve fathoms as they finished the turn; then suddenly it read sixteen, then twenty-two fathoms.

“Steep slope, especially considering our speed,” remarked Wolfe. Jerry nodded agreement. “If it’s that steep, we’ll only need a few minutes on this course. ”

Jerry lost his thought as the numbers on the fathometer changed again. They dropped to thirty fathoms, but then spiked upward, to twenty, fifteen, ten, then eight almost too fast to read.

“Red sounding!” exclaimed Dunn.

“Helm, back one-third! Captain to control! Diving officer prepare to hover.” Wolfe’s order cut their speed quickly to zero. A slight shudder could be felt on the deck.

The chief of the watch had passed the OOD’s call back to Rudel’s stateroom almost as soon as he had said it. The captain appeared dressed in gray sweatpants and a dark sweatshirt as Wolfe and Jerry considered their options over the navigation plot. Surprised by the captain’s dress, Jerry remembered it was past three in the morning.

Rudel joined Wolf and Jerry at the chart table.

“Sudden shallowing on two sides, sir,” explained Wolfe, and Jerry showed their course changes and the depths. Aside from Seawolf’s annotated track, there were only the barest hydrographic data.

Rudel ratified Wolfe’s actions. “Nice job, mister.” He paused. “To both of you”—including Jerry. “The bow sonar cannot double as a bumper.” It was just an offhand remark, but all three knew exactly what would happen if Seawolf’s truck a submerged obstruction, even at three knots.

They all studied the chart for a few moments, then Wolfe sighed. “Same drill as last time, sir?”

Rudel nodded, frowning. “Yes. Backtrack five miles, and then make a ten-mile detour to port, then a new course to the retrieval point. What will that do to our arrival at rendezvous?”

Jerry did the math in his head while Dunn laid in the new course. “It adds an hour and a half to the transit at five knots. It eats into our margin, but we’ll still be waiting when Patty arrives.”

“That’s fine, Mr. Mitchell. Now use the rest of the transit, including that extra hour, to get some sleep. You don’t look so good, and I want you alert when we recover Patty.”

Reluctantly, Jerry headed for his stateroom. He knew Dunn was up to navigating for Wolfe, but if they hit something, it wouldn’t matter who was on watch, and what Jerry thought of their abilities. It was always the navigator’s responsibility, whoever was in control. Jerry still had to force himself to delegate.

It seemed only seconds later when Chief Hudson was shaking his shoulder. “Mr. Mitchell, can you hear me?”

Jerry’s initial response was a cross between “I’m awake” and “What time is it?”

Hudson ignored his confused mumble. “We’ve been buzzing your phone, but you didn’t pick up. Patty’s being recovered.”

Jerry’s head cleared a little. Good news, but he needed to be there. Should have been there half an hour ago. How long had they been buzzing him?

He was in the torpedo room moments later. They’d already brought the UUV into the torpedo room. Only after she was secured did TM1 Yarborough and the chief begin their work. Unfastening access panels, they opened up the vehicle from just aft of the nose to where the motor compartment filled the last quarter of its length.

Once the all-important disk drive had been removed, the rest of the torpedo gang started servicing Patty. They wiped her down with a little fresh water, started a long inspection checklist, and began replacing her battery packs. The UUV’s high-power lithium-thionyl-chloride batteries filled half her length. They could not be recharged. They had to be replaced by a fresh energy section for each run. This was the main limit on how many surveys Seawolf’s UUVs could make.

It was Will Hayes’s OOD watch when they retrieved Patty, and then Jeff Chandler’s. Near the end of Jeff Chandler’s watch, the XO came into control.

Lieutenant Chandler almost snapped to attention, “Afternoon, sir. Current course two two five at five knots at one hundred fifty feet. En route to retrieve La Verne at. ”

Shimko waved him off. “Very well, Mr. Chandler.” The XO headed for the chart table. Jerry and most of his quartermasters clustered around several charts of the Barents Sea. One petty officer sifted through a stack of computer printouts while two others annotated a chart. Another was compiling a table of distances under Jerry’s direction, while one petty officer plotted Seawolf’s position and watched the fathometer.

“What do you have for me?” asked the XO.

Jerry stepped away from the chart table, picking up a small map of the area. “Patty found four spots that match the criteria we were given — bottom type and contours, depth, and the rest. We can take a closer look at them after the two-day midpatrol break. I’ve roughed out a plan to cover them all.”