Stalking the Red Bear by Peter Sasgen

Author:Peter Sasgen [Sasgen, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Submarine Warfare, Military History, Non Fiction, Espionage
ISBN: 0312380232
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2009-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

13

______

EYES AND EARS

“SONAR, ANYTHING?”

“Negative, Captain. Just garbage.”

Several hours spent in and around the intercept box had turned up a Norwegian fishing fleet but not much else. Hunter sat tight, thinking. Had they missed him? Had the Russian somehow slipped past them? Not likely. Sonar would have heard the sub’s tonals for sure. They’d won the race but so far had come up empty-handed. The Russian’s track, according to ComSubLant, had him dialed in for arrival right now. So where was he?

The Blackfin drifted, waiting.

A sense of anticipation gripped the OOD, the tracking party, and the sonarmen. Hunting another sub was exciting, sure, but it was also a challenge and a test of skill and patience. There was a lot of ocean out there to mask a submarine, many cubic miles of noisy seawater to comb through to find one tonal among all the others that said “submarine.” Tuned in to the deep beyond the Blackfin’s hull, the sonarmen on watch assumed a trancelike state as they listened for the Soviet sub; they looked like they were trying to will it into existence.

Hunter, meanwhile, studied the plot and chain-smoked.

At length one of the sonarmen stirred. “Got him.”

A moment later Hunter heard, “Conn, sonar. I have a threehundred-hertz tonal contact. Bearing three-four-zero, bearing drift right. Designated as Sierra Thirteen.” The numerical Sierra classifications used for ship contacts had been piling up. “Classified as a submerged Type II.”

Hunter’s hunch had paid off; the incoming sub was north and a little west of the Blackfin.

The fire-control team went into action. Interception and a positive ID depended on getting an accurate solution on her course, speed, and range, then closing in. Hunter, a step ahead of the tracking team, had worked out rough estimates in his head, pleased that their prepositioning estimates had turned out to be correct.

Minutes later the submerged Soviet sub loomed up, and as she went on by the waiting Blackfin, Hunter swung in behind to trail.

Things were looking good until sonar warned, “Sierra Thirteen’s slowing—clearing baffles.”

Hunter didn’t hesitate; he pulled to one side to avoid being detected. Moments later the Soviet sub came to PD.

As if reading Hunter’s mind, sonar reported, “Sierra Thirteen’s blowing ballast tanks.”

Sonar reported, too, that there were no other ships in the vicinity. Hunter, eager to make an ID, ordered the Blackfin to periscope depth. Waiting as the ship rose, he reached into the overhead and turned the scope’s hydraulic lift ring to the right. A thump and the scope started up. As soon as the optics module appeared, Hunter crouched, put his eye to the ocular, and grabbed and snapped down the training handles while the scope was still rising. He slowly rose with it to a standing position, his view aimed upward at the underside of waves. He spun the scope, searching for the bottoms of any ships whose noisy machinery and props might have been missed by sonar, but no ominous dark shadows loomed overhead. All he saw before the scope’s head pierced the surface was the bottom of a rumpled carpet of seawater.

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