Larry Bond - Dangerous Ground

“Well, sir, Mr. Adelman was never that good, and this was your first time with the real deal. Maybe that’s why the Navy sent you here for this mission. They knew you had the proper skills.”

Jerry laughed and responded sarcastically to Davidson’s naïveté, “Somehow TM2, I don’t think I can attribute that kind of forethought to the senior leadership of the U.S. Navy. Now, let’s get the Manta back on board.”

As Davidson contacted Greer to begin the recovery procedure, Jerry looked up and noticed for the first time that all of the torpedoman’s mates were looking at him and Davidson. A few nodded their approval; Foster clearly made his feelings known by his glare. Jerry chose to ignore his senior chief’s disapproval and turned the Manta procedure book to the recovery section.

Ten minutes later, with the Manta firmly secured in its dock, Jerry headed forward toward the wardroom. With any luck, the critique would be almost over. Hardy was bound to be in a foul mood after Monroe’s lopsided victory over Memphis’ fire-control party. Turning the corner around the bulkhead that separated officers’ country from the rest of the boat, Jerry heard a loud and angry voice coming from the wardroom. He couldn’t make out all the words, but the voice was very familiar. The Captain was obviously beside himself with anger over this drill and he was making his displeasure known to one and all. Stopping by the door to the wardroom, Jerry took a deep breath and went in.

“It’s about time you showed up Mitchell. We’ve been waiting for you,” growled Hardy.

Inwardly Jerry groaned. Now he would have to endure the Captain’s wrath as each embarrassing moment was gone over in detail. Since there was nothing Jerry could do about it, might as well get it over with. “Sorry, sir, we were recovering the Manta and I wish to report that the vehicle is now secured.”

“Very well,” grumbled Hardy.

“Let’s continue with the critique, please,” remarked Young rather testily. “As you were saying, Mr. Monroe.”

Lieutenant Commander Monroe looked down at his notepad and picked up where he had let off. He described the maneuvers used during the exercise and how they were based on classic Russian SSN tactics. He then made several complimentary statements on Jerry’s ability to grasp the essence of the tactics and to employ them. Monroe even went so far as to say that Jerry’s previous aviation experience proved to be extremely valuable in this instance. Jerry watched as Hardy seemed to turn more and more crimson as the squadron staffer praised one of his officers. When they reached the point in drill when Memphis turned hard left, Bair piped up and asked, “Why did you turn hard right as we turned left? I don’t quite understand the rationale behind that action.”

Monroe motioned for Jerry to answer his XO. “Well, sir, we could have easily turned with Memphis , but in doing so we would have ended up in a disadvantaged position where you would have been able to shoot us. By turning right and crossing astern for the second time, we retained the position of advantage. We knew about where you were and that you were in our weapons envelope. But we were not in yours. When I saw the hard left break, I recognized the situation as being similar to what aviators call a ‘flat scissors’ and I maneuvered accordingly.”

“Are you saying you beat the crap out of us by using dogfighting tactics, mister?” demanded Bair.

“Uh, yes, yes, sir. I guess that is what I’m saying.”

Bair sat back in his chair and shook his head. “No wonder we couldn’t figure out what they were doing. We were expecting them to behave like submariners and planned our attack based on this assumption. But instead, they acted more like fighter pilots. And in this case, they actually had one.”

“Yes, XO, I agree!” Hardy said angrily. “And that is exactly why I object to this whole drill. How can we be expected to fight a small, highly maneuverable vehicle with traditional tactics and weapons?”

“Your point is well taken, Captain,” replied Young icily. “But the last time I heard, the CNO is encouraging exactly this kind of out-of-the-box thinking!” Rising, Young positioned himself so that everyone could hear him. “What we learned today from this exercise was not what we had intended. Instead of ending up with a traditional sub-on-sub encounter that would just test your fire-control party’s skills, we found that a highly maneuverable vehicle with a well-trained operator unexpectedly dominated the scenario. And I submit to you, Captain, that this result is of far greater interest to my staff and me than what we did expect.”

“Since other nations will undoubtedly follow our lead in developing combat UUVs, this exercise has given us some insight into the problems we’ll face in developing future tactics and systems to address the threat. Now, if you will excuse us, Captain, we’ll sit down and determine your final grade for these sea trials. In the meantime, please set a course for home.”

As the members of Memphis’ crew filed out of the wardroom, Jerry received a number of slaps on the back and some words of congratulations — all out of the Captain’s earshot, of course. Even the XO, who had been in charge of the fire control party he and Monroe had so thoroughly bested, winked his approval.

But even more surprising to Jerry was the fact that Hardy was amazingly civil on the trip back to New London. Undoubtedly, the excellent grade Memphis received from the Commodore had done much to salve the Captain’s wounds. But Jerry hoped that maybe the Captain was starting to see that he was worth having on board. Of greater importance to Jerry, though, was his realization that he could be a good sub driver. And for the first time since he started down his new career path, Jerry saw light at the end of the tunnel.

May 12, 2005

SUBASE, New London

“Reveille, reveille, up all bunks. All hands turn to and commence ship’s work. Quarters to be held on the pier at 0800,” droned the IMC mercilessly. Jerry groaned quietly and muttered, “But I just closed my eyes a minute ago.” Unfortunately, his watch confirmed that he had actually been asleep for four hours. Jerry was still dog-tired and he really wanted to sleep. The rustlings and thumps told him that his roommates were up and getting dressed.

“C’mon, Jerry, rise and shine,” said Berg as he lightly kicked Jerry in the rear.

“Just five more minutes, Mom,” whimpered Jerry.

“Sorry, dear, but you don’t want to miss the school bus,” replied Berg as he kicked Jerry again.

“You’re a cruel man, Lenny. You’re only kicking me because you can,” said Jerry as he slowly slithered out of his rack.

“How true,” responded Berg in a deadpan manner. Then, a little more lightheartedly, “There are some advantages to having the top bunk.”

As Jerry shaved and got dressed, he tried to get his disorganized mental house in order. Today was May 12, and it was going to be another busy day. Dr. Davis and Dr. Patterson would be arriving this morning with the ROVs and Lord knows whatever else Memphis would need for the patrol. Ever since they had returned from sea trials, preparations had reached a breakneck pace all over the boat. Hardy had told them, back in March, that they only had two months to get ready for a lengthy deployment. That had seemed an incredibly short time then. Now, with the reality of tomorrow’s departure date looming like an oncoming express train, everyone was flailing to finish up. Some were more successful than others. Washburn was waiting for critical supplies, and Millunzi’s engineers were still working on cranky machinery. Lenny Berg couldn’t receive the new crypto codes for the upcoming cruise until his COMSEC procedures had been reviewed, and the inspector was behind schedule — by five days. Lenny spent a lot of time on the phone.