Larry Bond - Dangerous Ground

June 12, 2005

Northern Kara Sea

Lunch that afternoon was a celebration, although an ultra-quiet one. Jerry thought the cold sandwiches and canned fruit were a banquet and the thought of going home filled him with possibilities. True, he had a ton of work to do if he wanted to qualify for his dolphins, but compared to their earlier problems, his quals didn’t seem so insurmountable now. He’d make the time.

Especially at twelve knots. Lieutenant Commander Ho had already briefed the Captain, but the entire wardroom needed to know exactly what Memphis’ engineering plant could and could not do.

The Engineer looked tired, and a little shaken. He’d already briefed them on the four men who’d been injured, none dangerously so, but it was clear he’d felt their injuries almost as much as they had. His tone had improved and become steadier when he’d described the casualties to the plant.

The worst was the port main engine. The shock of the depth charging cracked the main throttle valve casing and caused a major steam leak, scalding three men nearby. Another man broke his ankle trying to get away from the jet of steam. The space had immediately filled with vapor, making it hard to see and to breathe. They’d drilled for it, though, and after donning EABs, had secured the steam supply to the main engine.

But now, to run at the same speed, the remaining engine would have to work twice as hard, which would make much more noise.

And the throttle valve couldn’t be repaired at sea. Because it had to hold saturated steam at six hundred psi and 485° Fahrenheit, it was made of thick stainless steel. The ship didn’t have the capability to weld metal that thick, with a crack that large. They couldn’t even patch it while at sea. The only thing they could do was secure the port main engine until they reached a base with the necessary equipment and personnel to effect the repairs.

Their creep speed was reduced from five to three knots. That wasn’t too bad, since nobody ever tried to get anywhere at creep. The point was to be as quiet as physically possible. Their transit speed was now twelve instead of twenty knots and their top speed, at which they’d make more noise than a boiler factory, was twenty knots. “Over twelve knots, I’d have to shift the starboard main seawater pumps to fast speed, and you can’t be quiet with those on the line.

“The oxygen generator fried itself when some of the breakers were rattled around. Fortunately, the oxygen banks are full and we won’t need to make any more before we reach a friendly port. And there are pumps and fittings knocked loose throughout the engine room and the auxiliary machinery space,” Ho concluded. “The only good news is that if we don’t take any further hits, we’ll probably make it back without any more equipment casualties.”

“That was a ringing endorsement,” Lenny Berg remarked cynically. “Would it help if I got out and pushed?”

“I like the ‘getting out’ part,” the XO answered, with only a slight smile.

“I was only trying to help,” Berg complained.

“Jerry, any luck with the torpedo tubes?” Bair asked.

“None, sir. With the preset panel gone, there’s no way to talk to a weapon. The Senior Chief’s been trying to jury-rig something, but he’s not hopeful.”

Dr. Patterson, sitting to one side with Emily Davis, spoke up tentatively. “But you can still fire a torpedo, can’t you? Emily says there’s nothing wrong with the tubes themselves.”

“That’s not quite true, doctor,” answered Hardy politely. “To fire a Mark 48, we need to apply warm-up power to get the inertial nav system up and running, and then we need to tell it where it is, where to go, and when to enable the active seeker. You need the fire-control circuits, or the emergency preset circuits to do those things; we have neither. If we launched a weapon, it would head straight to the bottom. No, ma’am, we have no weapons capability at all.” On that somber note, Bair stood up and announced, “All right, we’re not out of the woods yet and we have a long trip before us. Let’s get back to work.”

Slowly, the officers filed out of the wardroom, leaving Hardy to think in peace. As soon as he thought he was alone, he placed his face in his hands, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. Exhausted, frustrated, and tired of having to act so confident in front of his crew, he tried to think about what he would do if they ran across another Russian.

“Excuse me, Captain,” Patterson said softly.

Momentarily startled, Hardy jerked his head up. “Yes, Doctor. What can I do for you?”

“I… ah… I need to apologize for some of the things I said earlier. I didn’t really appreciate all the risks you and your men take and, uh, it was wrong for me to call you a bus driver and your sub a piece of junk.”

Hardy smiled weakly. “I believe the phrase was a ‘glorified bus driver,’ Doctor, but then I’m being picky. Apology accepted.” He then stood up and faced her. “And while we’re on the subject of apologies, I believe I made a remark about your political derriere being in a sling that was inappropriate. I know you didn’t just make the environmental threat up, that you do believe it’s a problem. I’m sorry that I implied you had.”

Patterson nodded her acceptance and then looked down at the deck. “Do you… do you think we’ll make it home?”

“Frankly Doctor, I don’t know,” Hardy said honestly, and then started to walk toward the wardroom door. After a few steps, he stopped and turned back to face her. “I’d like to think we’ll get out of this mess in one piece, but I have nothing but my training to base that on. This is my first time in a combat situation.”

“You and your crew have done very well so far, Captain. It’s obvious that the training they’ve had is paying off.”

“Yes, it is. And Lord knows that I’ve trained them hard. Perhaps, too hard at times. But I’ve found out training only goes so far, Doctor. You have to have confidence that they’ll do the right thing at the right time.”

Patterson chuckled briefly. “We don’t work with trust much in politics, Captain. It’s in short supply.”

“I know that, Doctor. But it hasn’t exactly been plentiful on Memphis either.” Hardy opened the door and motioned for Patterson to leave first. He then closed the door carefully, so as to make as little noise as possible.

Memphis continued to creep northward, Ho nursing the battered engineering plant as if it were a sick child. Jerry went back on watch in control with Lenny at 1800. He wished he could’ve slept more than two hours, but Bair made it clear they had to stand watch. “I’ve got to put everyone in the engineering department back aft to hold this old lady together. You two will just have to pull extra time forward.” It made sense. There would be little communicating with the outside world while the Russians were pursuing them, and without a weapons capability, there was little need for an Assistant Weapons Officer.

Memphis would not be out of the Kara Sea until late that evening, but that assumed a straight-line course and a constant quiet transit speed. Especially after the attacks that morning, everyone on the boat was silent and extremely alert. Jerry actually tiptoed in the passageway as he made his pre-watch rounds with Lenny.

In control nobody spoke unless absolutely necessary. Hardy and Bair alternated between the chart, the TMA plot, and the fire-control system, speaking quickly and softly. They ordered frequent depth, speed, and course changes, trying to use the seabed for cover as much as possible, trying to avoid any obvious paths. After all, the Russians knew these waters better than they did. Like a soldier dashing from one piece of cover to the next, Memphis quickly transited the deep spots, then headed back to shallower water, always working her way north and out.