Straits of Power (18 page)

Chapter 14

J
effrey’s key people were assembled in
Challenger
’s wardroom. Jeffrey, as captain of the ship and commander of the task group, sat in his usual sacrosanct place at the head of the table. To Jeffrey’s left sat Gerald Parker. To Jeffrey’s right, in what was considered the place of honor, he’d put Captain Parcelli. Jeffrey hoped this gesture wasn’t lost on the man.

Farther down the table sat Bell, Gamal Salih, Felix Estabo, and Jeffrey’s officers who needed to be present. Lieutenants Kathy Milgrom as Sonar, Bud Torelli as Weps, and Richard Sessions as Navigator all had to know what was coming next.

The foot of the table was empty, because beyond it, on the bulkhead, was a flat wide-screen display. Jeffrey’s laptop, already open and on, connected to the display by a fiber-optic cable. Bell got up and checked that chiefs were posted outside the door into the passageway, and also outside the door leading into
Challenger
’s galley, the kitchen and pantry area.

Bell nodded to Jeffrey, and retook his seat.

Jeffrey cleared his throat, and at once had everyone’s full attention.

“First, ground rules. For security, all crew are to know as little as possible in advance at each stage of this operation. Just in case we get into trouble, and there are survivors whom the enemy can capture and interrogate.”

Jeffrey looked around the room meaningfully. Even though this was hardly the first time his people had had to cope with such a concern, his officers got more serious.

“This map will give you an idea of our general route.” Jeffrey tapped some keys. The big display screen showed a chart of the Atlantic Ocean, extending through to the Mediterranean Sea and the start of the Black Sea, and also down to the Red Sea and the Arabian Gulf at the doorstep to the Indian Ocean.

Sessions, Torelli, and Milgrom immediately groaned.

“I see it has not been lost on you that we face some difficult choke points to and from our destination. Steps are being taken by higher command to assist us. Whether or not these diversions work, we have to press on at each stage.”

Jeffrey ran through the basics about radio silence, forbidden use of nukes in crucial areas, and other topics covered in briefings he’d attended earlier in Washington or Norfolk. He couldn’t tell them about the defector, Klaus Mohr, aka Peapod, aka Zeno, or about Plan Pandora—and this requirement to deny his key subordinates an understanding of what was truly involved weighed heavily on Jeffrey.

“The enemy is meant to believe we’re going south, after
von Scheer
in South Africa. You who were present then I’m sure remember our last delightful encounter with that beast.” People nodded and murmured uncomfortably.

“The first leg of our course will support the outward appearance of this incorrect conclusion. False signal traffic that the enemy may be able to read will further reinforce the impression that
Challenger
and
Ohio
are heading south. Farther out in the Atlantic, however, we will turn east. In the interests of time, we will then take the shortest route to the Strait of Gibraltar. Nav,” Jeffrey said to Sessions, “you can work out the details.” Sessions nodded, and Jeffrey could see gears were already turning in his mind. “Our course will take us north of Bermuda, and then north of the Azores. The steaming formation and routine I’ve chosen is this:
Ohio
will remain below the sonar layer, but otherwise Captain Parcelli and his crew will determine their depth along the way as they see fit.
Ohio
will periodically trail her floating wire antenna to provide updated tactical data for both ships.
Challenger
will stay as close to the seafloor as practicable, for stealth, keeping about ten thousand yards ahead of
Ohio. Challenger
will scan passively for threats, using the deep sound channel and various sonar modes as apply. That’s your division’s main task, Sonar, as usual.”

“Understood, sir.” Milgrom sounded chipper enough, but there were bags under her eyes and her shoulders drooped more than usual from fatigue. Jeffrey sympathized. He continued.

“Ohio
as the slower ship will set the pace. Our mean speed of advance will be eighteen knots. Our trip to Gibraltar should therefore take eight days.
Ohio
will, at Captain Parcelli’s discretion, trail her towed array, which was recently upgraded to be the same type as
Challenger
’s, i.e., triple-line fiber optic. . . . The two ships will remain in contact by the secure covert acoustic link.
Challenger
will maneuver so as to remain in direct acoustic line of sight with
Ohio
as much as possible. Given the complex paths that sound rays take between different depths, and
Challenger
’s occasional proximity to bottom terrain, this will call for careful coordination between Sonar and Navigation, on both ships. However, again, since
Ohio
will be setting the pace, and as the shallower unit she’s more inherently vulnerable, the onus is on
Challenger
to keep the acoustic path open. If the two ships become separated, with both being so quiet, it may prove very difficult to reestablish contact, even if both try calling by using the link. The result of such separation could be disastrous. . . . I cannot disclose more, but suffice it to say that a sword of Damocles hangs over our heads by one strand of hair, and that strand gets weaker with every day that goes by.”

Sessions and Milgrom glanced at each other, both carefully poker faced.

“Although we all did well in our combat with those three U-boats, I have to emphasize that whenever possible, we must avoid further contact with enemy units. Detection of either of our ships by the Axis now risks seriously compromising the mission. Any further combat also risks damage to
Ohio
or
Challenger
or both. This, again, could be disastrous, even if neither of us is actually sunk.”

Torelli raised his hand. “Skipper, won’t two subs trying to sneak through Gibraltar get noticed? The gap there’s so narrow, and the Germans have controlled both sides for most of a year at this point. They’ll have all kinds of sensors and weapons aimed our way.”

“All true. Hydrophone arrays, undersea smart minefields, the works. That’s the next part of the deception process. This much, you all do need to know now, since we’ve got to start working out our penetration tactics right away.”

Milgrom raised her hand.

“Sonar?”

“Captain, why weren’t we told any of this before? A week to develop cooperative tactics with
Ohio,
computer models, simulator rehearsals, contingency planning . . . It’s awfully rushed.”

“For security. You were to be told this only after we left port.” Jeffrey had by now, in private, opened the first sealed pouch from his safe.

“Of course. Understood, sir.”

“It won’t be quite as difficult as you think,” Jeffrey said to the group in the wardroom at large.

He tapped keys and another image appeared on the screen. It showed one submarine towing another, both submerged.

“The way we’ll increase our chances of sneaking through safely is to make use of a big-time diversion scheme. . . . You’re aware that some months ago USS
Texas
was damaged in combat and had to ground on top of a seamount near her crush depth.”
Texas
was a
Virginia
-class, steel-hulled sub.
Challenger
had helped rescue her surviving crew—just before the Germans could get to them. “The engineering compartment was completely flooded. Some of you may have heard rumors of plans to refloat and salvage the ship, repair her, put her back in action.”

People nodded again.

“Well, yes and no.
Texas
has been refloated, basically by robotic minisubs inserting gas bags as floatation bladders inside the flooded spaces. But rather than be salvaged, she’ll be sacrificed.”

People gave each other doubtful looks.

“It’s supposed to work like this,” Jeffrey said. “The Royal Navy’s HMS
Dreadnought
will tow the submerged but refloated
Texas
to near the Gibraltar Strait.
Dreadnought
is ideal for the job since her ceramic hull gives her a very deep crush depth. If something goes wrong with the tow or buoyancy control, and the
Texas
starts to sink again, the
Dreadnought
at least won’t need to worry about being dragged below her own crush depth. And before you ask, yes, a system is in place to cut the towing cables, just in case, and also one to make
Texas
heavy if she threatens to bob to the surface. Of course, implosion of the floatation bags and the unflooded forward hull of
Texas
would be heard for hundreds of miles, and prematurely give
that
game away, so we better hope this part goes smoothly. If it does,
Dreadnought
will release
Texas
near the Strait to free-float at her normal operating depth, and then subtly draw the attention of Axis antisubmarine forces. This should stir up a nice hornet’s nest, and the
Challenger-Ohio
task group will sneak through while the enemy’s busy attacking a derelict
Texas
and a very capable
Dreadnought. Texas,
already stripped of most classified gear, and her reactor compartment filled with special high-strength sealant, will suffer hits and seem to be sunk by Axis fire in water ten thousand feet deep.
Dreadnought
will then withdraw, also in very deep water. . . . It’s rather convenient for our side that the continental shelf by the strait is extremely narrow compared to the eastern U.S. . . . The Axis will thus be left with the impression that a two-sub task group attempted entry, with one vessel destroyed and the other repulsed. This will strengthen Axis confidence that the Strait is secure, when in fact, God willing,
Challenger
and
Ohio
will have gotten inside and we’ll have a good laugh at German expense.”

Bell leaned forward. “Making this work will take some precise coordination, sir, between us and
Dreadnought.”

“That’ll be accomplished by a coded ELF radio message. The same message will also be our final go-ahead to proceed with the main part of the mission, inside the Med. And it’s one more reason why we
must
keep to a very tight schedule. If
Dreadnought
’s ready and we aren’t there yet . . .”

“Even with this diversion, Skipper, we need more than just acoustic-link contact with
Ohio
to work out the details for passing Gibraltar.”

“Yes, thanks, XO. You anticipated my next point. Two more minisub rendezvous are planned between now and when we reach the Straits.
Challenger
will have to come shallow enough to respect the crush-depth limits of
Ohio
’s mini. And for one of these two meetings, I intend for people from
Challenger
to use our mini to visit
Ohio.
This will create greater task-group cohesion. Besides, it’s necessary. All of you here on
Challenger
can best appreciate what
Ohio
can and can’t do by going aboard her in person. . . . This wraps up the briefing. You’ll each be fed more info when the time comes. Lieutenant Estabo and his men, and Mr. Salih, will be having briefings and rehearsals among themselves. For security, they’ll need to use the wardroom. The enlisted mess is too public. XO, you and Mr. Parker and Lieutenant Estabo can work out the schedule needs.”

“Right,” Bell said.

“Thanks,” Felix acknowledged.

“So,” Jeffrey said, “everyone, this coming week, pray we don’t hear a
Virginia
-class hull imploding prematurely. That happens, we know
Dreadnought
’s diversion effort flopped and put the bad guys on highest alert. We drive on anyway, but our job gets a lot more complicated.”

Jeffrey’s wry comment left a glum silence in the room. He realized his officers’ moods were becoming brittle, a reaction to built-up tiredness and the prospect of yet more overwork.

“Lieutenant Milgrom,” Jeffrey said, “I know you served in
Dreadnought.
All goes well, we’ll be practically within shouting distance of your shipmates for a little while. Sorry you won’t be able to say hello.”

“I’m sure all will go as planned, sir,” Milgrom answered. She sounded as if she was trying very hard to believe what she said.

“We’ll proceed at ultraquiet, but secured from battle stations until absolutely necessary.”

“Normal watch-standing routines?” Bell asked, hardly believing the good news—and the departure from Jeffrey’s usual workaholic command style.

“Affirmative. I want everyone to make sure to get lots of rest, and plenty of nourishment.”

The feeling in the room lightened noticeably.

“Any questions?”

Sessions raised his hand.

“Nav?”

“Sir, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“You can always
ask.”

“Mr. Salih,” Sessions said, “are you at all related to someone else I used to know?”

Sessions, getting into the spirit of this constant need-to-know business, was trying to be cagey. Coming from him, the most laid-back and unflappable of Jeffrey’s officers, it seemed slightly funny—and ominous.

Salih glanced at Jeffrey. “They’ll figure it out pretty soon on their own. Best I tell them now. You think, Captain?”

Jeffrey shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“I’m the same Gamal Salih who had the honor to serve with you before Christmas.”

“But—” Sessions started.

“Plastic surgery, and acting lessons.”

“I think we better wrap this up,” Jeffrey broke in. “Captain Parcelli needs to get back to his ship.” Jeffrey turned off his laptop. “Thank you all for attending.”

He walked Parcelli aft. An enlisted man stood at the watertight hatch to the lock-out trunk, leading up to the docked minisub from
Ohio.
Jeffrey told him to move out of earshot.