Ice Station Nautilus (36 page)

USS
MICHIGAN

With the Russian torpedo on the other side of
Michigan
and speeding away, Wilson focused on the flooding and dormant combat control consoles. The Chief of the Watch had lined the drain pump to the Operations Compartment bilges, and the pump was keeping up. Water sprayed from both periscope barrel seals, and Auxiliary Division personnel were on the Conn, adjusting the packing glands around the barrels. Thankfully, the top of
Michigan
’s sail was at a depth of only ten feet, up against the bottom of the ice cap, and the pressure of the water spraying past the periscope barrels wasn’t dangerous.

Both periscopes were out of commission, and a glance at the Buoyancy Control Panel told Wilson the sail had suffered extensive damage. They had lost the Down indication on several masts and antennas, indicating they’d been jammed downward during the collision and their magnetic indicators were misaligned. However, the damage to the sail was inconsequential compared to the loss of
Michigan
’s combat control consoles.

The breaker to the submarine’s BYG-1 Combat Control System had tripped, and tripped again each time it was reset. Something was shorted out and it would take time to determine the affected component and isolate it. The entire Fire Control Division was working on the problem, but there was little hope they could solve it while seawater sprayed onto the consoles.

Wilson’s thoughts were interrupted by the Sonar Supervisor’s report. “Conn, Sonar. Hold a new narrowband contact on the spherical array, designated Sierra eight-seven, bearing one-six-zero. Analyzing.”

Wilson examined the narrowband display. There was a weak fifty-Hertz tonal; standard Russian fifty-cycle electrical machinery. As the tonal grew stronger, two more tonals appeared, followed by a fourth.

A moment later, the Sonar Supervisor followed up. “Conn, Sonar. Sierra eight-seven is classified Yasen class nuclear attack submarine.”

A pit formed in Wilson’s stomach. They were going up against one of Russia’s newest attack submarines. Additionally, the tonals were growing stronger.

The Russian submarine was moving in for the kill.

SEVERODVINSK

Range to their target was now two thousand meters. Close enough, Buffanov decided. Their torpedo would detect the American submarine as soon as it went active.

Buffanov called out, “Prepare to Fire, Hydroacoustic four-nine, torpedo salvo from tubes One and Two.”

As his crew readied two more 533-millimeter torpedoes, Buffanov evaluated his adversary’s possible responses; he intended to ensure at least one of his torpedoes homed to detonation this time.

With the American submarine up against the ice, its captain could not pull the same trick as before, launching an acoustic jammer and then emergency blowing to the ice canopy. If he launched a jammer, it would eject into the water only a few meters away. True, the jammer would mask the fainter sounds of the submarine, but it could also be used as a beacon.

Buffanov ordered, “Weapons Officer. Preset torpedo in tube One to Home-on-Jam.”

If the American crew ejected another jammer, it would draw Severodvinsk’s first torpedo close enough to activate its magnetic field exploder. If the American Captain evaded, leaving his acoustic jammer behind, his submarine would be snapped up by Buffanov’s second torpedo.

The expected reports flowed from his watchstanders.

The First Officer called out, “Solution updated.”

“Torpedoes ready, tubes One and Two,” his Weapons Officer announced.

The Watch Officer reported, “Countermeasures armed.”

Severodvinsk
was ready.

Buffanov moved to the rear of the Central Command Post, placing himself where he would have a clear view of the hydroacoustic and fire control displays. One final scan convinced him of the pending outcome.

His adversary would not get away this time.

As he prepared to issue the Fire order, he was interrupted by a report from Hydroacoustic, blaring from the Command Post speakers.

“Torpedo launch transients, bearing two-seven-zero!”

Buffanov’s eyes locked on to the hydroacoustic display, trying to figure out what was going on. The American guided missile submarine was to the north, yet Hydroacoustic reported a torpedo fired from the west. It took only a second for Buffanov to understand what had occurred, and his face paled when he realized his failure.

98

USS
NORTH DAKOTA
• K-329
SEVERODVINSK

USS
NORTH DAKOTA

“You forgot about us, didn’t you?”

Commander Paul Tolbert wasn’t sure whether he spoke the words aloud or just thought them. A few hours earlier, the electronic components scavenged by the Russians had been reinstalled and all tactical systems restored, and Commander Tolbert now stood in the Control Room of a fully operational Virginia class submarine. There was the propulsion issue, but the front end was fully functional.

Sonar had picked up the Yasen class submarine, and Tolbert’s crew had monitored its approach toward
Michigan
. Once the Russian Captain’s intentions became clear, Tolbert had manned Battle Stations and determined a firing solution. With his submarine a sitting duck, Tolbert would normally not have engaged, since counterfire from the Russian submarine would have resulted in the destruction of his submarine. However, he couldn’t stand by as
Michigan
was sunk, plus he was optimistic the Russian Captain would have insufficient time to counterfire. The Yasen class submarine had maneuvered close to
North Dakota,
and Tolbert’s torpedo, closing at High One speed, would hopefully detonate before the Russian crew could respond.

Tolbert watched his outbound weapon merge onto the bearing of Sierra one, which was less than a thousand yards away from the torpedo now.

He called out, “Command Enable tube One. Shift speed to High Two.”

His Weapons Officer complied, transmitting the new orders over the torpedo’s guidance wire. Not long thereafter, the Sonar Supervisor reported the expected indications.

“Own ship’s unit has gone active. Increasing speed to High Two.”

A few seconds later, the Weapons Officer called out, “Detect!” followed almost immediately by, “Homing!”

North Dakota
’s torpedo was performing well, but Tolbert decided to prepare another one just in case.

“Firing Point Procedures, Sierra one, tube Two.”

SEVERODVINSK

“Incoming torpedo is homing, bearing two-seven-zero!”

Buffanov’s thoughts went in several directions, but he settled on the two most important issues: evading the incoming torpedo and counterfiring.

“Eject torpedo decoy!”

The Watch Officer complied, ejecting a decoy into the water, and Buffanov focused on increasing speed, putting distance between his submarine and the decoy. Unfortunately,
Severodvinsk
was still operating on the electric drive, which was capable of only ten knots.

“Steersman, shift propulsion to the main engines!”

It would take a minute to complete the shift, and in the meantime, Buffanov prepared to counterfire. Although
Severodvinsk
had ten torpedo tubes, only two were 533-millimeter ones loaded with torpedoes designed to kill submarines. The torpedoes in both tubes were assigned to Hydroacoustic four-nine, and Buffanov needed a torpedo to fire to the west.

He called out, “Cancel Fire, Hydroacoustic four-nine. Prepare to Fire, tube One, bearing two-seven-zero.”

His crew responded quickly, canceling the solutions sent to the two torpedoes and sending a new firing bearing to the torpedo in tube One. However, precious time was lost resetting the torpedo’s guidance system. Through the submarine’s hull, Buffanov heard the faint sonar pings from the incoming torpedo, growing louder.

The Weapons Officer finally announced the torpedo in tube One was ready to fire. As Buffanov issued the command, his order was drowned out by an explosion that jolted
Severodvinsk
and knocked him to the deck. A geyser of ice-cold water surged into the Command Post from the level below, shooting up the access ladder and ricocheting off bulkheads and consoles. The wail of the Flooding Alarm filled Buffanov’s ears, followed by emergency reports detailing flooding in Compartments Two and Three.

As Buffanov watched the ocean pour into his submarine, he realized there was little he could do; the flooding was beyond the capacity of their drain pumps, and an Emergency Blow with two flooded compartments would do no good, even if they hadn’t been under the ice.

Severodvinsk
was going to the bottom.

Buffanov’s submarine tilted downward and increased speed as it descended. Buffanov struggled to his feet, fighting against the water surging into the Command Post, already waist high. As he clung to the starboard periscope barrel, he glanced at the digital depth detector. Its glowing red numbers increased as
Severodvinsk
plummeted toward the bottom.

With a jarring impact, water and men surged forward as the attack submarine’s bow plowed into the ocean floor. The screech of twisting metal filled Buffanov’s ears as
Severodvinsk
’s bow crumpled like paper-mache. The Flooding Alarm, which had fallen silent a moment earlier, wailed again, this time followed by a report of flooding in Compartment One. With flooding on both sides of Compartment Two, Buffanov and his men in the compartment were trapped. As the water level rose above his shoulders, he realized there would be no escape.

99

USS
MICHIGAN

“Explosion in the water, bearing one-six-zero.”

Wilson acknowledged Sonar’s report, but in the complex under-ice environment, what he didn’t know was whether
North Dakota
’s torpedo had homed on the Russian submarine or a nearby ice keel. Sonar’s next report provided the answer.

“Mechanical transient, bearing one-six-one, consistent with bottom impact.”

The immediate threat had been eliminated. However,
Michigan
had been attacked by a second Russian submarine, and a third might arrive soon. The reason for the first attack was clear; the Akula Captain was trying to stop
Michigan
’s SEALs from interfering. But why had the second Russian Captain attacked? To avenge the Akula? Wilson then recalled the Yasen Captain had fired two torpedoes and both had exploded. The other torpedo hadn’t hit
North Dakota,
so what had it hit?

Petty Officer Malocsay looked up as Wilson stopped by his console and examined the bearings to the second torpedo. Wilson directed Malocsay, “Give me an estimated course for a fifty-knot torpedo at a range of three thousand yards.

Malocsay adjusted the scale of electronic speed strip to fifty knots, lining up each bearing with the appropriate time. He finally got a perfect fit and looked up as Wilson’s eyes narrowed. The torpedo course passed directly over
Yury Dolgoruky
.

100

K-535
YURY DOLGORUKY

In the bitterly cold compartment, Christine peered through the portal in the watertight door, watching Brackman’s body disappear in the murky water. It had happened too fast; she had pushed the door shut, sealing Brackman to his fate. She remained at the door, staring into the darkness as her grief broke, tears falling from her cheeks, her sobs echoing in the deserted submarine. She began shivering, and it took a moment before she realized her predicament.

Hypothermia was setting in. The wet clothing and the twenty-nine-degree temperature were sucking the heat from her body. She wiped the tears away and shifted her focus from Brackman’s death to her own survival. She needed dry clothing. A quick examination of the compartment revealed auxiliary machinery. She pointed her flashlight forward, spotting an open watertight door leading to another compartment.

She was in the seventh of nine compartments. Compartments Eight and Nine behind her were flooded, as were Compartments Two and Three, leaving Compartments Four through Six to explore. If ONI intel was correct, Compartment Six contained the reactor, and Compartment Five was the missile compartment. She prayed Compartment Four contained crew berthing, where she might find something dry to change into. Her bare hands were already numb.

She moved quickly through the watertight doorway and found herself in a long passageway, which she presumed was the Reactor Compartment Tunnel. She continued into the next compartment, where two rows of missile tubes stretched into the darkness.

Christine headed down the starboard side of the compartment, past eight missile tubes, until she reached another open watertight doorway. As she stepped through, her flashlight illuminated electronic equipment on each side of a narrow passageway. She continued forward, finding a ladder, which she followed down to a berthing level filled with several rows of bunks. A search of the crew’s lockers produced coveralls, underwear, socks, and shoes. Still shivering, she shed her wet apparel and donned two sets of clothing and a pair of shoes, then used a blanket to dry her hair.

Having temporarily staved off hypothermia, she evaluated the prospect of being rescued. The PRM had almost certainly been destroyed, and she wasn’t aware of a replacement. Refusing to concede defeat until the air gave out or she froze to death, she decided to put her time aboard
Dolgoruky
to good use. She headed aft into the missile compartment, where the missile tubes and associated equipment resembled that aboard USS
Michigan,
and searched for the Russian version of Missile Control Center.

There wasn’t one at either end of the compartment, so Christine returned to Compartment Four, stopping in the passageway lined with equipment. On the inboard side of the passageway was a door with a five-button cypher lock. She pushed the cypher lock buttons, hoping by sheer laziness the combination was something simple, like 1-2-3 or 1-2-3-4, but each attempt failed. The door remained locked.