Operation Arctic Sting, page 11
As we rose, the air bubble in each ballast tank expanded, forcing water out through the opening at the bottom of each tank. This increased our positive buoyancy so that I had to release more air. It was somewhat like a snowball rolling downhill. I kept our ascent slow so that a full five minutes passed before we bumped gently against the ice canopy. Pots gave me a good view of the ice immediately above us. TV-1 was a pretty slick system. I knew I would be putting it to good use during our transit. I couldn’t help but wonder how Lyre managed to sustain such damage to her bow during her transit of the Prince of Wales Strait at the Princess Elizabeth Islands.
I intended to crack the ice just enough to push the snorkel through the ice into the air. We were not moving horizontally, and there was no wave action to speak of, so just a few inches above the ice surface was all I needed. Bit-by-bit, I added air to both ballast tanks. The sail pressed against the canopy with increasing pressure until a loud crack signaled success. Immediately, I vented air from both ballast tanks until Lyre no longer pressed against the ice. Then, I added just enough air to keep her resting against the ice.
It took a moment to locate the snorkel mast switch. Apparently, the snorkel mast normally operated automatically in conjunction with diesel ops at periscope depth or on the surface. When I activated the switch, bypassing the automation, I was then able to set the height with a slider.
Bert commenced charging the HP bank from the Ritm console. The compressor was a high-capacity unit that compressed air from inside the sub while the atmosphere system sucked fresh air into the sub through the snorkel. The HP bank was fully charged in a half-hour, and the internal temperature of the sub had dropped to near freezing. We were glad we had extra clothing with us so we could layer it and keep warm.
While the HP bank was charging, I located the drain valve switch for the escape pod. The pod was filled with water at about 200 psi. When I flipped the switch and opened the valve, the pod pressure dropped to just over one atmosphere. Then I opened the pressurizing valve, forcing the water inside the pod to sea. When the pod was dry, I shut both valves. We were ready to return to the bottom.
THE LYRE—BOTTOMED NEAR TEUTHIS
By the time we settled on the bottom, the XO had assumed what would have been my watch on Teuthis. It had been a long night, and I was exhausted. I turned the watch over to Spook, who would spend the next five hours making sure we were ready to get underway, and at the end, top off our batteries.
I directed everybody to catch up on their sleep—for five hours, anyway. I told Spook to wake me for any problem, no matter how slight.
Several of the guys chose to grab a meal first, intending to heat water in one of several electric hot-water pots the Dev Group had included with the LRP shipment. As I drifted off to sleep, I heard Bert swear in the small galley.
“Shit! Can you believe it? We don’t have any adaptors or transformers to plug in these suckers and use them.”
With the certain knowledge that Bert could solve the problem, I zonked out.
While I slept, Bert spoke with Doug Watson, explaining the problem. Doug’s people set about winding a reduction transformer, 220 V to 120 V, with sufficient capacity to handle our four hot-water pots. They didn’t bother with the frequency, since the pots didn’t care whether the current was 60 Hz or 50 Hz. They also kludged up four adaptors to change the standard two-prong plugs on the pots to the Soviet version—two round posts a bit farther apart than our standard flat prongs.
I slept right through topping off of the batteries and the other preps for getting underway. I found out later that Sergyi had made sure I wasn’t awakened. There was nothing, he insisted, that the nine of them couldn’t handle. Finally, as Teuthis was preparing for Mystic ops, Sergyi awakened me with a hot cup of coffee. I didn’t ask him how he managed to pull that off, but it was a godsend.
I arose, splashed a bit of water on my face, and carried my cup of coffee up the ladder to Control. The rest of the crew was sitting around the consoles eavesdropping on Spook’s conversation with Teuthis. The divers had returned to the DDC after topping off Lyre’s batteries and spending a few minutes with their new best friend, the curious Orca, who brought a female with him this time. Teuthis had moved back to her position a hundred feet off Lyre’s starboard side.
Sergyi volunteered to remain behind in Lyre while the rest of us went back to Teuthis for a final visit, a meal, and a shower. Instead, I made the command decision for five of us to go first, and then to make a second trip for the second five. We would be stuck for thirty-one days with only LRPs to eat and sponge baths for cleanliness. I figured a final meal and shower would do everyone good.
ON THE SEAFLOOR—MYSTIC OPS
Even though we had replaced virtually all the air in Lyre when we topped off our HP Bank, when Flanger opened the hatch, Bob Taggert wrinkled his nose at the stench.
“I’m glad it’s you guys and not me,” he said with a grin. “Let’s get you back for some chow and a shower.”
I sent Sergyi with the first group and remained back with the DIA team. I was surprised when, just an hour and twenty minutes later, the XO called to say that Mystic was on her way back with the first five guys.
There are showers, and then there are showers. I cannot remember when a shower felt so good. I stood under the hot stream for as long as possible, allowing just a few minutes for a steak and potatoes meal, complete with popovers.
Before we returned to Lyre, the skipper called me to his cabin. He gestured for me to sit.
“I wanted to spend a few minutes with you before you get underway,” the skipper said with a smile. “First, do you have any questions? Is there anything you wish to discuss with me privately?”
“Not really, Skipper. We know what we are doing—we think. Everything but the reactor seems to be working, although the sonar is limited because of the sphere damage.” I told him about the TV-1 system and how it should significantly help us in tight situations. I finished up by saying, “Thank you again for giving me this opportunity. I never imagined I would be doing this when we got underway last fall.”
“Mac, I chose you because you are the best man I have for the job. I was initially somewhat reluctant to relieve you of your diving responsibilities, but you convinced me that Ham can handle the job.
“You will be driving a special sub with unique capabilities. I suspect you will undergo a long, detailed debriefing when we finally arrive at EB. Learn everything you can, but don’t take unnecessary chances. The Soviets will do everything they can to stop our delivery. I would not put it past them to attempt sinking Lyre if they find you. Be alert, but don’t take offensive action. Leave that to Teuthis and me.
“Finally, remember that we are close by. We can get to you on short order for any problems you can’t resolve.” The skipper rose to his feet and held out his hand. “Good luck and God’s speed!”
THE LYRE—UNDERWAY OFF PT. BARROW
Mystic had left our afterdeck and returned to Teuthis. We were topped off—batteries and HP air, food and water, oxygen candles, even toilet paper. We were ready to go and eager to be underway.
I gathered my nine companions in Control. “It’s time, guys. This may not be what you signed up for, but here we are. We Navy boys will keep us on track and moving forward. You DIA guys and Sergyi will make sure everything continues to work. We will be at ultra-quiet for the entire journey, so get used to it. Teuthis will be within several miles of us at all times, but I want us to be invisible.
“One more thing. I know it is tempting to wolf down the LRP stuff, followed by some water. Please don’t do that. The nutrition boys tell me that’s a good way to mess up your gut. We don’t need that kind of problem out here.”
Sergyi raised a hand while digging in his duffle bag. “I brought these,” he said, holding up a handful of Hershey Bars. “They not Belgium chocolate, but they damn good!”
I took the first five-hour watch. I pumped water to sea and lifted Lyre off the bottom. I took her to a depth of 100 feet11 over the bottom and set a course of 081 degrees at five knots. My big concern was that both Shchuka and Carp were on this approximate bearing eighty or so nautical miles out. Los Angeles and Swordfish were between us and them, but I could think of no reason to alert the Soviets to our presence as we crept northeast toward deeper water. Teuthis was ahead of us. Our passive sonar system couldn’t hear her, but I was confident that she was tracking our position. I was concerned about a shallow spot some forty-seven nautical miles out, just a bit to the right of our track where the water was only seventy feet deep. I intended to pass to the north of it, but charts in this region were notoriously unreliable—thus my five-knot speed. Bumping into that seamount at five knots would not harm us.
I leaned back in the comfortable seat facing the Akkord console. We had about nine hours before we needed to worry about the seamount.
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11 We had to get used to meters instead of feet because all the indicators were in meters, but to avoid confusion, I will continue to use feet in this narrative.
Track of USS Teuthis & Lyre from Pt. Barrow to Amundsen Gulf
CHAPTER TEN
Beaufort Sea
THE LYRE—BEAUFORT SEA
I was reasonably confident that Frisco and Swordfish were tracking Teuthis and Lyre. I was also confident that they knew our ultimate destination and probable track. With the aid of the first transponder, they would keep the two Soviet subs off our tails until we lost them in the sweeping canyons that formed the drop from the Alaskan continental shelf into the Arctic Basin.
Ahead of us lay forty-eight nautical miles of water that started out fairly shallow for most of my watch and then got increasingly deeper. As soon as we left the hole, I changed the automatic height-over-bottom setting to fifty feet because the average depth going forward was about 120 feet. That didn’t give us a lot of room.
Near the end of my watch three hours later, the secure bottom sounder began to show some variability to the bottom as we cut across the incipient canyons. Akkord moved us up and down in the water column to maintain fifty feet above the bottom. I reset the depth to seventy feet below the ice canopy, which stopped the ups and downs, but also made us more susceptible to detection. Traveling at only five knots, I considered that very unlikely.
For the next five hours, Spook moved us forward into the canyons that dropped into the Arctic Basin. As we got closer to that shallow spot just off our track to the right, Spook moved us up to sixty feet. This put our sail sufficiently close to the ice that a large downward pressure ridge could cause problems.
“What do you think?” Spook asked me. “Do you think we’ll be okay at this depth?”
“Pressure ridges don’t usually form this close to shore,” I answered, “but I’m far from an expert.” I looked at the chart, for whatever it was worth. “Keep us at five knots, and let me know if I’m not around when we’re within a mile of the spot.”
“That’s gonna be Warrant Officer Cobb,” Spook said.
“Oops, you’re right. Pass the instruction on to him, please.”
That’s when I realized that I needed to establish a Night-order book. I checked the duffle bag of supplies that Ship’s Yeoman Brad Roman had sent with us. Sure enough, along with spare pens and pencils, he had included a couple of spare Ship’s Logs and two blank Navy-issue hard green covered lined books. I retrieved one, labeled it prominently Night-Order Book. I wrote out the order and handed the book to Spook.
“That works,” he said.
An hour into Bert’s watch, he called me to Control.
“It looks like we’re shallowing up a bit,” he said.
“How soon to our course change?” I asked.
“’Bout an hour,” he answered.
“Okay, let me know.” I turned to look at Sergyi, busy on the Okean automated sonar console.
“I think I got this Okean figured out,” he said, his Ukrainian heritage still showing in his pronunciation. “Reception no so good here,” he said, pointing to the port bow sector. “It fine everywhere else.” He pointed at two spots on his screen. “Swordfish and Frisco,” he said with a grin. “And those—Shchuka and Carp,” pointing to two others. “I guess range based on what we know,” he said. “Okean automatically refine and update.”
“You’ve turned out to be quite a sonar tech, my Ukrainian friend,” I said.
He grinned his acknowledgment.
THE LYRE—DEMARCATION POINT
“The bottom’s dropping off, Mac,” Bert told me near the end of his third hour on watch.
“When you hit the twelve-hundred-foot curve, drop down to two hundred feet, increase your speed to ten knots, and come right to course zero-nine-seven,” I told him. “Then set the automatics to take a secure sounding every five minutes, average the last three soundings, and adjust our course to follow the twelve-hundred-foot curve.” I pointed to the chart that had I pulled up on his Akkord console. “One more thing,” I added, “we should commence baffle clearing hourly just like we did on Teuthis. Randomize commencing the figure eight within fifteen minutes before and after the hour, and randomize the initial turn direction—right or left. Make sure that during the baffle clear, either Sergyi or Matt is on the Okean looking for anything behind us.”
“I thought Teuthis was doing that.”
“Sure, and if they find something, they’ll let us know by Secure Gertrude. It never hurts to have another set of ears. That’s what we will be doing.”
During Bert’s second baffle clear, Matt called me to Control.
“Look at this, Mac.” He indicated five sound sources on the Okean screen. “This is Teuthis off to our port. These guys behind us are probably our two guys and the two Soviets. By the sound levels, I’m guessing that our guys are closer, but the Soviet subs are so noisy that relative sound levels are unreliable.”
“Let’s get some ranges from Teuthis,” I said. “We can feed that info into Okean, and it should keep things relatively clear for several hours, at least.”
Sam’s five-hour watch was uneventful. The Akkord panel worked flawlessly. It even selected the random hourly intervals and the initial turn direction. In effect, Sam’s real job was to be present and aware of what was happening if Akkord screwed up. It didn’t.
When Sam turned over the watch to Potts, he finished up with, “Piece of cake!”
“Lyre, it’s Teuthis,” came clear as a bell through our Secure Gertrude.
We were near the end of Potts’ third hour on watch. He had just completed a baffle clear with Sergyi manning the Okean. Sergyi got me out of my bunk with a steaming cup of coffee, and I joined them in Control. The Okean screen displayed three contacts, Teuthis, about six nautical miles off our port bow, and both Swordfish and Frisco behind us to port several miles, but Sergyi had no way to distinguish which was which.
“What about Shchuka and Carp?” I asked.
“No detection, Mac,” Sergyi said. “I don’t got King’s fancy equipment.”
“Grammar lesson, my friend. It’s don’t have, not don’t got.” I grinned at him. “Your English is coming along just great. You’re just picking up some common errors from the guys.”
Potts handed me a hand-held mike. “Teuthis, this is Lyre, over,” I said.
On the old Gertrude, it would have been impossible to recognize an individual voice, but I clearly recognized the XO’s voice. I glanced at the watch section chart I had posted on the Control bulkhead. Sure enough, he was on watch.
“XO, it’s Mac.”
“Mac, we have located an appropriate spot for transponder-two. Lyre is about an hour away from a battery charge. Head toward our position at two hundred feet. In the meantime, we are preparing for Mystic ops. When you reach our position, we will set up for your battery charge.”
It was a bit frustrating not to be part of the Mystic transponder-laying operation, but that paled when compared to what we would commence in about an hour.
“Slow to six knots,” I told Potts. With nothing to do, I hung around Control as Potts brought us to our rendezvous.
About fifty minutes later, I said, “Potts, put us D-I-W and trim to stay at two hundred feet.”
“Roger that, Mac. Now we get to see just how well this sucker hovers.”
I just grinned. I knew Potts could handle any deviation the Alfa automatics screwed up.
“Teuthis, this is Lyre. We’re at your location, two hundred feet below the canopy.”
“Roger, Lyre. We will be back with you shortly. Stand by.”
And so we waited. I guessed Mystic was either underway or about to get underway. My guys—Ham’s, I corrected myself—would have placed the transponder into the grip of Mystic’s manipulator arm. Then they would set up the shorepower cable.
“Potts,” I said. “Activate the external lights and cameras.”
“Got it, Boss.”
“Lyre, this is Teuthis. We’re ready for battery ops. I have you three hundred yards to starboard. Present your starboard side and then ease Lyre upward until your sail rests against the canopy. Notify me when you are stable.”
“Lyre, aye.” I nodded to Potts.
While Potts brought us up, I entered the details in the Ship’s Log. The rest of the crew joined us in Control to watch the proceedings.
It took about five minutes. This was our first time in open ocean. Okean said the ice was six feet thick, so there was little chance we would break through the canopy.
“Make sure we are slightly positively buoyant, Potts,” I said as Lyre bumped gently against the canopy.
