Operation White Out, page 14
USS TEUTHIS—NORTH OF THURSTON ISLAND
As we continued toward the middle of Thurston Island, Sonar kept close track on S-87. As the Operations Officer, Seth kept on top of the matter. Working with Seth and King, the skipper and I decided that S-87 was patrolling the deep water off Thurston Island. Our determination reinforced both theories. The skipper had Seth and his sonar techs search the Thurston north shore diligently, listening for anything except grinding ice.
They were rewarded at least twice with something that did not fit into the general ice noise, but they could not pin it down closer than the middle of the island.
The skipper and I were leaning over the plot table discussing the possibilities when Seth approached us.
“Captain, before we approach Thurston any closer, we need to update the SINS,19 We have a three-bird pass coming up in about twenty minutes. I’d like to get it.”
“Make it so.”
Waverly had the watch, and the satellites were scheduled to pass overhead in an eighteen-minute window, commencing at 1004. Waverly brought us to periscope depth and extended the nav antenna. He reduced our speed to bare steerageway. While we were up, Waverly obtained permission from the skipper to ventilate the ship for five minutes using the blowers. The air was cold, but it felt good and smelled wonderful.
While we were at periscope depth, King, who had the sonar supervisor watch, took advantage of our shallow depth to make a thorough scan through the surface channel of the Thurston Island coast. As Seth wrapped up his satellite fix, King called me into Sonar and handed me a headset.
“What do you make of this?” he asked.
I heard a barely audible, rhythmic, low-frequency sound. It didn’t sound like any propellors I had ever heard. In fact, at first, I thought it was an entirely new sound.
“What do you think, King?”
“I wanted to hear your take first, Sir.” King grinned at me.
I listened again, paying close attention to the nuances that characterized this strange, rhythmic sound. As I listened, my audio memory kicked in. I looked at King with astonishment.
“That’s a pump on the ocean floor,” I said, “an oil well pump.”
“You’re pretty good, Sir—for a has-been sonar tech.” King grinned broadly, splitting his dark features. “That’s my take, too!”
I heard Waverly preparing to return to depth and stepped into Control. “Hold up, Waverly,” I said and walked forward to the skipper’s cabin.
“Skipper, before we return to depth, I’d like you to listen to something we acquired in Sonar.” He followed me to Sonar, and I stood back so he could enter first.
King handed him a headset. After a moment, the skipper asked, “What is it?”
“I’m not one hundred percent certain,” King started.
“I hire you for your best guess, King,” the skipper interrupted, “so don’t equivocate. Just give it to me.”
“Yes, Sir. I think it’s an oil well pump. So does the XO.”
“A what?”
“You said to give it to you, Captain. I think it’s an oil well pump. I heard them in the North Sea. So has the XO. They’re distinctive—nothin’ else sounds like that.”
The skipper stood quietly, contemplating this information. “You’re sure, King…XO?”
“Best guess, Captain, yes Sir, even down here, best guess.”
“Try to isolate it,” the skipper said. “We’ll continue setting up for the array, but pin its location down if you can.”
Seth laid a chart of Thurston Island on the plot table. It showed the mostly ice-covered island about a hundred miles long and an average of twenty-five miles wide, separated from Antarctica by twenty-mile wide Peacock Sound entirely covered with ice of unknown thickness. The north side of the island facing the Pacific consisted of many fingers of land dropping steeply into the ocean. Deep fjord-like inlets separated the fingers. Our goal was an 800-foot-deep plateau nestled between Noville Peninsula to the east and Hughes Peninsula to the west. We intended to lay the array on a line connecting Cape LeBlanc on Noville and Cape Davies on Hughes. As with earlier arrays, this array would be 1,000 feet long, anchored at twenty-five-foot intervals.
Wilbur had the evening watch on day sixty-three. He eased Teuthis under the ice edge and brought us to a hover at 700 feet, about halfway between Cape LeBlanc and Cape Davies.
Over the 1MC, the COW Pots announced, “Commence Fish ops, commence Fish ops.”
In Dive Control, Derrick launched the Fish and commenced the survey. Wally launched the Basketball just in time to see Borysko sidle up to the Fish to make sure it wasn’t something to eat. Our Orca had followed us for our entire transit from Mare Harbour to Thurston Island. We held our collective breaths in Dive Control until Borysko decided the Fish was something he already knew and left it alone.
Franklin let the survey run for an hour before deciding the plateau was perfectly suited for the array. Ham had already pressed down divers Ross, Romero, and Romain, so by the time Wilbur set Teuthis on the bottom at the western extent of the array, pointed toward Cape LeBlanc, they were ready to enter the water.
The operation proceeded without a serious hitch. Borysko accompanied the divers for the entire ten hours. The overhead ice was not solid, so the Orca was able to grab air whenever he needed. During their final anchor, I was in Dive Control. As the divers were finishing up, someone shouted in helium squeak, “What the fuck is that?”
Wally brought the Basketball to bear on a huge seal with an elongated proboscis. It zeroed in on Jer, obviously sharp canines flashing in the light beam.
“Inside now!” Bill ordered.
José pulled Gil through the hatch with one mighty heave. Jer pulled himself through the hatch to his waist. José and Gil grabbed his arms and pulled.
“The fucker’s got my foot,” Jer squeaked.
Wally zoomed in with the Basketball to show Jer’s left fin inside the elephant seal’s huge mouth.
“Cut Jer’s fin and holder straps!” Bill ordered.
I shifted my eyes to the small monitor that showed the lock’s interior. Gil hauled Jer, without his left fin, and José through the hatch into the lock. Moments later, the elephant seal’s proboscis and head pushed up through the lock, squealing and barking. Just as rapidly, the head disappeared. I turned to the Basketball display and saw why. Borysko had the elephant seal in his massive jaws. It was an amazing contrast—Borysko at six tons and thirty feet to the elephant seal, perhaps three tons and fifteen feet. The elephant seal didn’t have a chance. From what we could see through the Basketball, the elephant seal whipped around for perhaps a minute or less. Then Borysko forced his massive jaws through the seal, practically cutting him in half. It was all over, and our Orca had fresh meat for several days.
We were ready to lay the cable along the bottom for seventeen miles, from the end of the array to the head of Potaka Inlet between Kearns Peninsula to the east and Starr Peninsula to the west. The only problem was we still had to identify the two peninsulas.
USS TEUTHIS—FINDING KEARNS & STARR PENINSULAS
We needed a view from above—something we weren’t going to get. The surface above us was ice-covered, not a solid sheet, but even a little ice would damage Mystic. We knew our current location, having reset the SINS only a day earlier. In principle, therefore, we knew the locations of the inner edges of the peninsulas as they related to Potaka Inlet. The problem was, similar to what we experienced under the Arctic ice, the locations of things on the chart frequently did not accurately reflect their actual location.
Both peninsulas dropped steeply off their ends and into Potaka Inlet. There was a good chance that each peninsula might display some identifying feature, a rocky outcropping perhaps, that would allow us to pinpoint it on our chart. To do this, we would have to surface and push Teuthis as far out of the water as possible. And that meant decoupling Mystic from our after deck and leaving her in the water, well below the ice cover.
Waverly set DSRV ops. The Mystic crew loaded some rations and water in case things took longer than expected. An hour later, Mystic hovered safely at 500 feet, and Waverly slowly drove Teuthis to the ice cover and then gently pushed through the loose ice until Teuthis was fully broached. Sam Dokey was his COW. Dokey slowly let air into the ballast tanks, making as little noise as possible. Chief Quartermaster Gary Fonzarelli manned the attack scope because it had the highest reach. The skipper did a couple of sweep-arounds on the nav scope and turned it over to Waverly. Several crew members dropped into Control for some periscope liberty on the nav scope, and Waverly accommodated as many as possible.
“Hey,” one of them shouted, “there’s Borysko!” He followed the Orca with the scope. “He’s doing a flip. I think he knows I’m watching him.”
Borysko’s antics brought several more crew members to Control for a chance to observe him.
One of the Nav ETs fired up the radar to get good bearings and ranges to nearby landmarks.
“I’ve got a solid rock outcropping,” Fonzarelli said, supplying a bearing.
Seth laid it down on the chart. “That looks like Kearns,” he said, checking the radar display. “Radar puts it at twelve miles. It’s off a quarter mile on the chart. Fonzie, sketch in the shoreline from radar and give me the best bearing for the center of Potaka Inlet.”
The skipper watched the activity in Control but didn’t interfere. I was present as well, keeping back behind Plot. The skipper leaned over to me and said quietly, “Seth’s coming along just fine, isn’t he?”
When he had the sketched chart ready, Seth turned to the skipper. “Captain, here is our present situation.” He pointed to the sketched chart. “We’re here, and Kearns Peninsula is here. I propose we drop close to the bottom and feed out cable at five knots until we reach the mouth of Potaka. Then we reassess.”
“I agree, Seth, and good job locating Kearns Peninsula. What is your best estimate of when we will be at the head of Potaka Inlet?”
Seth turned to the chart, made a couple of measurements, did several calculations, and checked everything again.
“The minimum time is eight hours, Captain, but more realistically, considering where we are right now, ten hours.”
“I don’t disagree with your conservative approach,” the skipper said, “but let’s add another two hours. Let’s give ourselves twelve hours.” He turned to me. “XO, determine the time of the divers’ arrival at the inlet’s southernmost point and inform Palmer Station. I want us there waiting on the chopper, not the other way around.”
Seth looked at the OOD, Waverly. “You got enough to know what to do?”
Waverly grinned. “Yeah. Once that message is confirmed, I’ll put us near the bottom, bring Mystic back, and get things going while you have a bite. Then you can relieve me.”
Apparently, Palmer was standing by for our message—had been for several days. They said the chopper would be airborne for ten hours. They would adjust launch time so it would arrive in twelve.
Waverly dropped Teuthis down and retrieved Mystic at 400 feet. The crew made it in time for lunch. By the time Seth returned to Control to assume the watch, Waverly had Teuthis fifty feet over the bottom on a course of 143 degrees, laying cable at five knots.
Seth laid cable for two hours and thirty-six minutes, which, by his best estimate, placed Teuthis right at the Potaka Inlet entrance. The water had shallowed to 650 feet, but the ice cover was sufficiently far above that he could retain Mystic onboard.
From my stateroom, I heard Seth call the skipper. As the skipper passed my stateroom, he stuck his head in and said, “Please join us in Control.”
Franklin joined us as well.
Seth had halted forward progress to assess the situation.
“What do you propose?” the skipper asked.
Seth laid out a track on the chart through the middle of the inlet. “First, we deploy the Fish and run a scan south in the inlet. We follow the Fish slowly while it scans the bottom. We keep Mystic with us and follow this track. When the bottom shallows to two hundred feet, I propose we decouple Mystic and continue to one hundred. Then we verify our location and decide what to do next.”
The skipper glanced at me. “It looks like at least the southern half of the inlet is covered with glacier ice,” I said. “The underside may be pretty rough, so keep track of what’s above us. We want to get Teuthis as close as possible to here,” I pointed to the inlet end, “so Mystic doesn’t have to struggle with the cable any more than necessary.”
The skipper laid a straight edge from Smith Peak back toward Potaka Inlet, swinging it along the southeastern shore, ticking off the closest and farthest points. He measured the distance. “We have three-point-nine nautical miles to Smith Peak, give or take, depending on where we bring the cable ashore.” He turned to Franklin.
“Commander James, come up with the best way to move four miles of cable from here,” he pointed to the southeastern shore of the inlet, “to here.” He stabbed Smith Peak with his pencil. “Remember, the pilot will have been flying for ten hours when we start this job.”
“Skipper,” I said, “let’s consider the possibility that we can surface Mystic where we bring the cable ashore. The glacier flows from the cap here,” I pointed to the ice flow from the vicinity of Smith Peak, “but this side,” I pointed to the steep eastern side of the inlet, “drops right down to the inlet floor. The inlet widens—there may be a polynya or two near the end—an area of open water.” I spread my hands over the chart. “If we can surface Mystic, we can bring the pilot aboard Teuthis for a hot meal and some sleep.”
“I’ll consider it when we get there,” the skipper answered. “Any questions?”
Hearing none, he turned and left for his cabin.
USS TEUTHIS—POTAKA INLET
Seth lowered both outboards, secured the screw, and slowed to bare steerageway while Spook and his people launched the Fish. Our slow progress became even slower as we inched our way into this fjord-like inlet at the bottom of the world.
“Conn, Sonar, we lost that odd pumping sound just as we passed into the sound shadow of Starr Peninsula.”
“Conn, aye. Note the time and bearing.”
The sea bottom sloped up, but slower than we had anticipated. Halfway through Seth’s watch, the bottom was still at 600 feet, and we had penetrated about halfway into the inlet. Near the end of Seth’s watch, Sonar called.
“Conn, Sonar, we are receiving whistles that sound very much like Borysko.”
I left my stateroom and came to Control. I checked the chart. I called Seth over. “If Borysko took a really deep breath here,” I pointed to where Seth had marked the hard ice edge, “he could reach where we are, if he had an air source when he got here. Otherwise, he’d drown, and he’s way too smart for that. There’s a polynya around here; I’m certain of it!”
“Sonar, Conn, can you give me a bearing to the whistles?”
“Sure thing, Conn, it’s two-seven-two.”
I had to remind myself that Sonar gave relative bearings. I said to Seth, “The polynya was a half-mile off our port beam. It can’t be any farther because a steep slope rises out of the water there.”
Seth called the skipper. “Captain, I think you need to make a decision.”
Seth detailed the situation. The skipper examined the chart, went into Sonar to listen to the whistles, and returned to Control, arms folded, chin in hand. “Move closer to the polynya—if that’s what it is—and check it out with the Fish.”
“Left full rudder, come to new course zero-nine four,” Seth ordered. “Adjust turns for bare steerageway.”
The bottom began to rise. “Diving Officer, ease your depth to three-zero-zero feet.”
“Conn, Fish Ops, the bottom is rising rapidly four hundred yards ahead.”
“Launch Mystic as soon as you can,” the skipper told Seth.
Seth picked up the 1MC mike. “Now hear this, Mystic pilot, Lieutenant Robert Taggert, report to Control.”
Moments later, Taggert mounted the stairway into Control from the Galley. “I was grabbing a tuna sandwich,” he said. “What’s up?”
The skipper showed him the chart, where we thought the polynya might be, and how the water was shallowing. “I want Mystic off my stern so I can sidle up to the ice cover,” the skipper explained. “We’ll have to figure things out as we move forward.”
Taggert signaled to Seth, who nodded to his CWO, Chief Oggy.
“Commence DSRV ops, commence DSRV ops,” sounded on the 1MC.
_____________
19 Ships Internal Navigation System.
Track of USS Teuthis to Potaka Inlet on Thurston Island
CHAPTER TEN
Thurston Island
USS TEUTHIS—POTAKA INLET POLYNYA
“How thick is the overhead ice?” the skipper asked.
“About five feet, lumpy underside,” Seth said.
“Ease up to fifty feet and move forward until we’re in ice-free water,” the skipper ordered. “Keep a close watch on the bottom and stow the Fish for the time being.”
The bottom steepened until it was about thirty degrees to the horizontal when the under-ice sonar detected open water above.
“Ease to periscope depth and come DIW,” the skipper ordered.
“Diving Officer, Make your depth six-five feet. Helmsman, All Stop. Maintain position by coordinating with the quartermaster.”
As we rose to periscope depth, the skipper manned the attack scope, cycling around as the scope tip pierced the surface. Seth followed suit with the nav scope.
“Clear all around,” the skipper announced. “Bright sun, low on the horizon.” He continued searching around. “Come up to five-zero feet, Seth.” The skipper focused forward. “The polynya extends to within a few hundred yards of the south end of the inlet.” He stepped back from the scope. “Seth, ease Teuthis forward slowly on the outboards. Watch your depth continuously. Don’t take us any farther than fifty feet below the keel.”
