Exit Plan

23. WHALE HUNT

8 April 2013

0530 Local Time/0230 Zulu

USS Michigan, SSGN 727

“TORPEDOES IN THE WATER!” shouted Buckley over the intercom.

“Where, Woody?” yelled Guthrie. He didn’t have time for the intercom and just shouted down the passageway.

“Conn, Sonar, first torpedo bears one two two. The second bears one three seven.”

Guthrie motioned to Simmons, the battle stations OOD, to acknowledge the report. He glanced at the fire control display that Ensign Sandy Wagner had manned, and there was nothing there on their assailant. He has to be in our baffles, behind us, Guthrie thought. This guy was dangerous.

“Weps, launch an ADC Mark 4 countermeasure from the starboard launchers. Helm, right fifteen degrees rudder, steady course north, all ahead flank!” Guthrie’s immediate concern was the two torpedoes, but he couldn’t ignore the shooter. He knew they had to get him out of their baffles and into view so they could start tracking him, but they had to jam his sonar as well.

Guthrie looked over at the intercept receiver. The WLY-1 warned them about enemy sonar transmissions, and it had lit off the same time as Buckley’s warning of incoming torpedoes. It showed two Russian-made sonars, the MGK-400 Rubikon and MG-519 Arfa. Those were fitted on Iran’s Kilo-class subs. The countermeasure should have some effect.

The captain dodged as other members of the fire control party took their positions. Lieutenants (jg) Sean Porter and Daniel Hogan had set up the geoplot and were starting to plot the bearings to the torpedoes.

“Sean, Daniel, just plot raw bearings. We don’t have time to fair them. I need to know if I have to turn, ASAP.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Porter as he drew out a bearing line on the paper.

“Conn, Sonar, first torpedo bears one one seven, drawing slowly to the right. The second torpedo is in our baffles, but was last seen drawing left. Neither weapon is active,” reported Buckley more calmly.

“Very well. Find that Kilo, Woody!” shouted Guthrie as he shuffled over to the geoplot. Lieutenant Erik Nelson showed the bearing spread on the two torpedoes. “Captain, this one on the left looks like it will miss us, but just barely. The one on the right will be a problem if we remain on our present course.”

Guthrie nodded. The torpedoes had been placed exceptionally well. There was no way they could get out of the acquisition cones of both of them.

“Dmitry, deploy an ADC Mark 5 torpedo countermeasure and prepare the ATT launchers.”

The weapons officer reached up, lifted a protective cover on the countermeasure panel, and punched the button. On the aft starboard side of Michigan, one of the external countermeasures tubes erupted, spewing out a long cylindrical canister. Once activated, the countermeasure transmitted a loud acoustic signal that a homing torpedo would hopefully find alluring.

“ADC away, and the antitorpedo system is online,” reported Zelinski.

Before Guthrie could acknowledge the weapons officer’s report, the WLY-1 acoustic intercept receiver screeched out another warning.

“Conn, Sonar, torpedoes have enabled!”

Kilo-Class Submarine, Yunes, SS903

“Captain!” shouted the sonar operator excitedly. “A sonar jammer has been deployed.”

Mehr looked up at the MGK-400 sonar display and saw that it was now filled with numerous spikes in the direction of the Ohio-class submarine. “Calm yourself, Sergeant! We knew he would do this,” he admonished the nervous operator. “I just launched a sonar jammer myself, so settle down.”

“Captain,” interrupted Lieutenant Kashani, the fire control officer, “the torpedoes are nearing their activation point.”

“Very well,” Mehr said. The enemy would know soon enough that he had done more than just harass them with a sonar lashing. It was time to change their position.

“Helmsman, left full rudder. Steady course two two zero, speed eight knots. First officer, stand by to deploy another MG-24 countermeasure.” As he watched his crew carry out their orders, he marveled at how well the attack was proceeding. The shot was picture-perfect. At least one of the torpedoes he fired would acquire the target. Evasion would be difficult as the American was almost dead in the water. He was a sitting duck.

Steady yourself, Ebrahim, he said to himself. The battle isn’t over yet, and the American has yet to take any overt action. This is only the beginning.

“Captain, torpedoes are active,” reported the fire control officer. “Torpedo on the left is clear, no contacts. The torpedo on the right has acquired a target… No, wait! It’s being jammed!”

Mehr smiled. The torpedo from tube two had found his quarry. But more important, that torpedo was the one with the guidance wire. “Offset the torpedo’s course one point to starboard,” he ordered.

“Aye, sir. Change course one point to starboard,” replied the fire control operator. He rotated the wire guidance selector switch to “Transmit,” flipped the direction toggle to “Right,” and punched the course change button twice, ordering the torpedo to turn right by eleven and a quarter degrees, one point of the compass. “Course change completed, sir.”

“Very well, Lieutenant. If the torpedo’s course starts to drift to the left, just reset it to the right. Once it is past the decoy, we’ll turn it back to the left. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” responded Kashani.

USS Michigan, SSGN 727

“Torpedo number one has changed course to the right,” Zelinski said nervously. “It looks like it’s being steered past the countermeasure.”

“Just my luck,” complained Guthrie cynically. “I always evade in the direction of the torpedo that is wire-guided.” It was a poor attempt at humor, but he had to keep his own fear in check. His crew had to see him as the Rock of Gibraltar, even when things looked really, really bad.

“Weps, launch a salvo of two ATTs at torpedo number one and pop off another ADC Mark 5,” Guthrie ordered. He then glanced at the speed indicator; they were only making ten knots. If this didn’t work, it would all be over in less than a minute.

Zelinski targeted the incoming weapon with two antitorpedo torpedoes and hit the launch button. Another set of external tubes in the submarine’s after superstructure ejected their contents, and the minitorpedoes sped off down the bearing to their target. The ATTs were small compared to one of Michigan’s Mark 48s, only six-and-three-quarter inches in diameter and ten feet long. Designed to destroy attacking torpedoes, they were a new addition to Michigan’s defensive suite.

Development of the ATTs had been troublesome, vexed with numerous technical difficulties, and caused the program to suffer one delay after another. Test trials had shown that accurately tracking a torpedo in the water was considerably harder than tracking a missile in the air, even though the latter was many times faster. But despite the less-than-desired hit rates, everyone agreed they were better than nothing.

The three underwater missiles closed each other at a combined speed of eighty knots. In a little under twenty seconds, the first ATT streaked past the Iranian weapon — a clean miss. The second ATT, however, locked on, homed, and exploded within inches of the incoming torpedo, destroying it.

Kilo-Class Submarine, Yunes, SS903

The entire crew cheered when they heard the explosion. They had “harpooned their whale!” Everyone hugged each other and patted their captain on the back. He had to shout at the top of his lungs to be heard. “Be quiet! Man your posts!” he screamed angrily.

The men, chastised by their captain, returned to their duties but they still bubbled with excitement and joy. Lieutenant Commander Khadem looked at his skipper with confusion. He was just as perplexed by Mehr’s behavior as everyone else in the central post. Leaning over, he whispered, “What’s wrong, sir? Aren’t you pleased? You nailed that American dog!”

Mehr simply shook his head, it just didn’t feel right. “It was too easy, Navid. Far too easy.”

“But everything worked just as you planned,” the first officer protested. “You foresaw everything. Truly Allah has given you a great victory!”

“Perhaps,” Mehr replied quietly. “If so, then it costs us nothing to indulge my caution. We will stay on this course for a little longer, then turn west and slow down. Once those jammers die off, we’ll know for certain if we got him. In the meantime, we remain at battle stations.”

USS Michigan, SSGN 727

The explosion caused Michigan to rock slightly, but it wasn’t close enough to cause any damage. The control room had become absolutely silent while the ATTs raced toward the incoming TEST-71 torpedo. A collective sigh of relief was the only indication that people were breathing again. The acting executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Harper, was the first to break the stillness. “Operational test of the ATT completed satisfactorily, sir.”

“Amen!” cried Zelinski.

Guthrie chuckled, but quickly composed himself. That was just round one. This fight wasn’t over yet. Looking around, he could see everyone in the control room staring at him, waiting for him to tell them what he was going to do next. Clearing his throat, he announced the basic tenet of his battle plan.

“Attention in Control. My intention is to stay on this course for a few more minutes to clear datum. I will then slow and come about to the southwest and attempt to find the Kilo. Once we detect him, I will deploy a mobile decoy to draw him away and maneuver the boat into position to engage with a Mark 48 ADCAP torpedo. Carry on.”

The captain’s declaration to shoot back electrified everyone in the control room. No submarine had ever fired a Mark 48 in anger, and the very idea jumpstarted the fire control party to provide the best possible firing solution. With his battle plan articulated, Guthrie had time to just think. Immediately, he found his thoughts going back to Jerry and the SEALs. He’d abandoned them, left them alone to fight a far superior enemy. Should I just try and get away and see if I can get off a Cormorant? he said to himself. How long would that take? No! Stop it! Guthrie pounded his fist on the countertop. He didn’t have time for this kind of second-guessing. I have to fight for my ship.

Guthrie joined Simmons on the periscope stand; he needed to take a look at the sonar display. The Iranian Kilo was still out there. But before he could find them, he had to clear his own countermeasure. After waiting patiently for several minutes, Guthrie started acting on his battle strategy.

“Weps, make tubes one and two ready in all respects, with the exception of opening the outer doors.”

“Make tubes one and two ready in all respects, with the exception of opening the outer doors, aye, sir,” repeated the weapons officer eagerly.

“Alright, people, here we go,” said Guthrie. “Helm, all ahead two-thirds.”

“All ahead two-thirds, aye, sir. Maneuvering answers ahead two-thirds.”

“Very well, helm. Left fifteen degrees rudder, steady on course two two five.”

“My rudder is left fifteen, coming to course two two five.”

Guthrie reached up to the intercom. “Sonar, Conn, we are coming left to clear the ADCs, keep a sharp ear to the south.”

“Conn, Sonar, aye,” Buckley replied.

Kilo-Class Submarine, Yunes, SS903

“Helmsman, left standard rudder. Steady on course two seven zero. Make turns for four knots,” ordered Mehr.

“My rudder is left standard, coming to new course two seven zero. Speed is slowing to four knots,” acknowledged the helmsman.

“Very well.” Mehr rose and looked around the central post. He wanted to make sure everyone was listening to him.

“Attention in Central Post. We are separating from our jammers to enable us to search for the American. I am not yet convinced we got him, so stay focused on your duties. If he is still out there, and we do find him, we’ll need to quickly make another attack. We no longer have the element of surprise, so stay alert!”

Khadem listened to Mehr’s proclamation and noted the emphasis on not becoming complacent. While he was still skeptical, his captain was the best in the Iranian Navy, and he didn’t get that way by pandering to the senior officers with showy demonstrations. Mehr knew his boat, and his men. If he had an itch between his shoulders, it was because something wasn’t quite right.

“Sir, tubes two and four have been reloaded. And another MG-24 jammer is in the countermeasure launcher,” Khadem reported.

“Very good, First Officer.” Mehr’s eyes remained focused on the sonar display.

Khadem hesitated, standing by his captain, struggling to find the rights words with which to question him, to ask him to justify his actions.

“You’re still convinced we got him, aren’t you, Navid?” Mehr preempted him.

“Yes, sir. Everything points to that,” the embarrassed first officer replied.

“And you want to know why I don’t agree?” There was a slight smile on Mehr’s face. Khadem nodded silently.

“I don’t for a moment believe the Pasdaran’s propaganda about Americans,” the captain spoke sternly. “The Americans are more professional than the Pasdaran could ever hope to be. And they don’t normally promote fools to be captains of their submarines. My intuition tells me that this captain is not a fool, and he had a trick up his sleeve. No, I don’t think we hit him. The weapon may have detonated because of the countermeasure, but my gut tells me he’s still out there listening for us. If I’m wrong, we have nothing to lose by remaining vigilant for another hour. If I’m right, it just might save our lives.”

USS Michigan, SSGN 727

It was a long three minutes. Guthrie paced around the periscope stand, pausing only to look occasionally at the sonar display. Nothing. The ADC Mark 4 sonar jammer he had deployed was exceptionally loud and affected the BQCKLO hull arrays just as much as their adversary’s sensors. They had to get clear so the fancy signal processing equipment could digitally screen out the influences of their countermeasure.

“Conn, Sonar, new contact, bearing one three five. Designate new contact Sierra-five seven.”

“Sonar, Conn, aye,” replied Simmons. Guthrie was already on his way to the sonar shack.

“What do you have for me, Woody?” Guthrie asked eagerly, as he entered the darkened space where four sonar operators worked their magic.

Buckley pointed to the passive broadband display showing the input from the spherical array. “Here is the weak trace we just picked up off the sphere. There is nothing on the low frequency bow array — no narrowband tonals — but without a towed array we can’t be confident of this. The initial cut on bearing rate suggests he’s close, about two degrees per minute, drawing left. My chief here says it’s a submerged contact, and I concur, sir.”

Although Buckley couldn’t see it, there was a big grin on Guthrie’s face. “Well done, gentlemen, well done. We’ll stay on this course for another minute or two, and get a good first leg. Then I’ll turn us to the southeast. Don’t lose ‘em!”

“Aye, aye, sir!” exclaimed the occupants of the sonar space.

Guthrie walked quickly over to the geoplot and gestured for Harper to join him.

“What do you have so far, Erik?” the captain demanded.

“Sir, we have two decoys. One bears one three zero and the other one three seven. If you add in the bearing spread from the torpedoes, that puts the Kilo somewhere down here.” Nelson pointed to a circle two thousand yards in diameter, five thousand yards to the southeast.

“Very nice, Erik. Well done. You, too, Sean and Daniel.” Guthrie was pleased with what his junior officers had put together given the sparse data they had to work with; but they had missed an important clue. “However, I think we can improve upon this a little. Hand me the ruler, please, Daniel.”

Guthrie took the ruler and marked lines between the bearing cuts for the two torpedoes, explaining as he drew. “If you assume these weapons were fired nearly simultaneously, then the respective ranges to them, should be fairly close as well. By linking the corresponding bearings together, you get rough positions, which we can trace back to their point of origin.”

The captain then aligned the ruler along the position dots and drew two more lines. Guthrie finished by drawing another line through the two bearings to the decoys. The three lines formed a small triangle within the much larger circle constructed by his JOs.

“Sweet,” whispered Hogan.

“This last line is more of a swag,” admitted Guthrie, “but it’s not that sensitive as long as it’s roughly in an east-west direction, the direction of his travel. That, gentlemen, is where the Kilo fired from. Now let’s figure out where he’s going.”

Porter and Hogan plotted out the rest of the bearing information and merged it with their skipper’s initial starting point. In less than a minute, they had worked out an initial solution of course two six three, speed six knots, range four thousand yards. For all the high-tech ASW hardware his boat carried, nothing conveyed more information to Kyle Guthrie than a good old-fashioned paper plot. He wrote down the initial solution on a fire control chit and handed it to Harper. “Have Sandy put this into her analyzer and start stacking the dots against it,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” replied the engineer. He took the information and read it to Ensign Wagner, who quickly entered the starting solution into the fire control console. She immediately began manipulating the passive sonar bearing information by adjusting the course, speed, and range knobs until the bearing dots formed a nice neat vertical stack. The initial solution was a good one, and the dots stacked up quickly. They had a good first leg. Harper gave the skipper a thumbs-up sign.

“Attention in Control,” Guthrie announced. “I intend to come left, and execute a second leg for an Ekelund range. As we turn, we’ll deploy a mobile decoy to distract the Kilo skipper’s attention. After a good fire control solution has been generated, we’ll launch a single Mark 48 ADCAP. Stay on your toes. This isn’t over yet. Carry on.”

“Skipper, won’t turning to the left get us awfully close to the Kilo?” Simmons voice was edgy with apprehension.

“You’re correct, Isaac, we’ll be closing the target. But if he’s where I think he is, his sonar will be staring straight at the ADC Mark 4 countermeasure that’s still cranking out a ton of noise. It should not only mask our approach, but also our shot. To quote our XO, ‘we’ll be coming at him from out of the sun.’”

Simmons face fell when Guthrie mentioned the XO. “I sure hope the XO and the other guys are okay. We left them high and dry.”

For a brief moment Guthrie took the comment personally, but quickly realized that his navigator was merely expressing the same feelings of concern that they all shared. “I hope so, too, Nav. But right now, we can’t afford to think about it.”

“Helm, left fifteen degrees rudder. Steady on course one three zero,” commanded Guthrie.

“Captain, my helm is left fifteen, coming to course one three zero.”

“Very well, helm. Weps, stand by to launch a mobile decoy, course two two five, speed eight knots.”

Zelinski quickly punched the buttons on the countermeasure panel, double-checked the settings, and reported, “Standing by to launch mobile decoy, course and speed laid in.”

“Launch countermeasure!” barked Guthrie.

“Countermeasure away, Captain.”

Let’s hope he falls for this, Guthrie thought. If he doesn’t, it’ll get real interesting, real fast. Looking around the control room, he saw his crew carrying out their duties calmly and with determination. Pride filled him as he watched the team that he and Jerry Mitchell had worked so hard to train functioning like a well-oiled machine, preparing for the moment when he would order them to shoot.

It just seemed so bizarre; he had gone through this procedure countless times during his career, but that was in the attack trainers or on a test range. This was real; he was going to launch a warshot torpedo at a hostile target that had already taken a shot at him. The Kilo skipper was about to get what he deserved; no more, no less.

“Open the outer door on tube one.”

Kilo-Class Submarine, Yunes, SS903

There was an old joke posted on the squadron headquarters bulletin board from some Western defense journal that read, “ASW means Awfully Slow Warfare.” Mehr couldn’t agree more. It had been a little over ten minutes since their initial attack, and there still was no sign of the Ohio-class boat. Had they truly hit the Americans the first time? Or had her captain decided that discretion was the better part of valor?

All but one of the deployed countermeasures had ceased to function and sank to the bottom, clearing up the sonar picture immensely. This last one, deployed by the Americans, was still causing some problems. Were they hiding nearby, lying in wait? Mehr dismissed the idea, because to use a countermeasure effectively in that manner he’d have to know exactly where Yunes was. And that was most improbable.

The Iranian skipper stood up and stretched. He was starting to get drowsy in his chair and he needed to get his blood moving. It would be bad form to fall asleep in the middle of the hunt. He strolled around all of the watch stations, checking in on his men, who had to be just as tired as he was. After speaking with Lieutenant Kashani at the MVU-110 fire control console, Mehr wandered back to the sonar cubicle. He leaned up against the door to the closet-sized space and looked inside; the two operators seemed to be in a trance, both watching their displays and listening intently to the waters around them.

“Any luck?” inquired Mehr politely. Neither man answered. He was about to address them more formally when the sergeant vigorously waved his hand and said, “Ssh!”

Mehr froze in place. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb these men if they were on to something. For what seemed an eternity, but in reality was only about twenty seconds, he hovered over the two sonar operators. Finally, the sergeant looked at his captain and reported, “Faint contact moving away from the sonar jammer. Bearing green three four.”

Mehr patted the sonar operator on the shoulder and said, “Pass the tracking data to fire control.” Marching into central post, he immediately began spitting out commands.

“Fire control, begin tracking the new contact. Stand by for rapid salvo firing.”

“Yes, sir,” Kashani replied, as his fingers mover swiftly over the console.

“Sonar, stand by to go active on both main and mine-hunting arrays.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“First officer, deploy a MG-24 countermeasure on my command.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Mehr leaned over Kashani’s shoulder and looked at the fire control’s position display. The contact was just off his starboard bow; he was in an excellent position from which to execute another attack.

“Captain, the contact has no blade noise at all. The bearing rate is high, drawing left. Evaluate the contact as a submerged submarine,” reported the sonar operator.

“Very well, Sonar.” Mehr evaluated all the data; this had to be his prey, his whale. “Time to end this game,” he muttered softly.

“Fire control, open bow caps on tubes one and three.”

USS Michigan, SSGN 727

“Captain, we have a firing solution,” declared Harper confidently, while extending his hand with a fire control chit in it.

Guthrie grabbed the piece of paper and looked at it closely. “Course two seven three, speed five knots, range two eight hundred yards. Boy howdy, he’s close!”

“Yes, sir. And getting closer, I might add,” observed Simmons.

Guthrie gave his navigator a sour look and handed the chit back to Harper. “Plug it in, Eng.”

Harper gave the data to Zelinski, who read it off to the fire control technician. Soon the Mark 48 ADCAP torpedo in tube one would have all the data it needed to find and kill the Kilo.

“Conn, Sonar, transients from Sierra five seven. Sounds like he’s opening torpedo tube outer doors,” reported Buckley.

Guthrie’s heart sank. Had they been detected? Before he could acknowledge the report, the WLY-1 receiver began chirping. The Kilo had gone active.

“Snapshot, tube…” shouted Guthrie, but he was interrupted by Buckley before he could finish his command.

“Conn, Sonar, Sierra five seven has gone active, but we are not in the main beam. Repeat we are not in the main beam. WLY-1 is picking up a side lobe.”

“Belay my last,” barked Guthrie. “We’ll stick to our original plan. Get those weapon presets in pronto, Weps.”

Kilo-Class Submarine, Yunes, SS903

“Contact, Captain, range to target thirty-two hundred meters.” The sonar operator’s tone was understandably excited. They were much closer to the target than the first shot.

“Rapid salvo fire, tubes one and three!” cried Mehr determinedly.

“Tubes one and three fired, sir!”

USS Michigan, SSGN 727

“Conn, Sonar, torpedoes in the water. Bearing one nine one. Torpedoes are drawing right rapidly. They’re going away from us.”

“Sonar, Conn, aye.” Guthrie smiled. He’d taken the bait. The Iranian captain had fired on the mobile decoy. Now it’s my turn, he thought.

“Firing point procedures, Sierra five seven, tube one,” he said calmly.

“Solution ready,” answered Harper.

“Ship ready,” replied Simmons.

“Weapon ready,” responded Zelinski.

“Shoot on generated bearings,” ordered Guthrie.

Zelinski nodded to the fire control technician, who grabbed the firing handle and rotated it to the left. “Set… Stand by… Shoot!” called out the tech.

On the word “shoot” he rotated the handle all the way around to the right, completing the firing circuit. Down in the torpedo room, the firing valve on the starboard tube nest opened with a pop, allowing high-pressure air to run through the blades of a turbine. The turbine drove a titanium pump impeller that spun very rapidly, driving hundreds of gallons of seawater into the torpedo tube. The force of the seawater literally threw the 3,700-pound Mark 48 ADCAP torpedo out of the tube with the acceleration equal to three Gs. Once clear of the submarine, the Mark 48’s Otto fuel engine kicked in and propelled the deadly weapon toward its target.

“Normal launch,” announced the fire control tech. “Torpedo course one nine five, medium speed, four zero knots, run-to-enable one five hundred yards.”

Nelson immediately had the plotting team place the torpedo’s course and designated enable point on the geoplot. Guthrie hopped down from the periscope stand and looked at the tactical situation displayed on the paper plot. He liked what he saw.

“If we’ve done this right, he’ll be completely surprised when the torpedo enables ninety degrees from where it’s supposed to be,” stated Guthrie.

The captain watched as Porter and Hogan drew out the bearing lines to the Mark 48. At forty knots, it would take just a little over a minute to reach the enable point.

Kilo-Class Submarine, Yunes, SS903

Mehr was puzzled as he looked at the tactical display on the fire control console. The target he fired at wasn’t doing anything! No reaction whatsoever. He surely couldn’t have missed the active sonar pings bouncing off his hull. What was that man doing? Suddenly, his blood went cold with realization. That wasn’t a submarine they shot at. It was a decoy! He had to get out of here, now! Pivoting toward the helmsman, he was about to give his orders when an alarm went off. “TORPEDO ALERT, GREEN ZERO NINE ZERO” screamed the sonar operator.

USS Michigan, SSGN 727

“Detect. Detect. Detect. Homing,” the fire control technician sang out. “Own-ship’s unit has acquired the target. Bearing to target one nine three, range nine double oh yards.”

“Bull’s-eye, Skipper,” said Harper.

“We haven’t won yet, Eng,” remarked Guthrie. Then raising his voice, “Helm, all ahead standard. Weps, stand by countermeasure station.”

Kilo-Class Submarine, Yunes, SS903

“Launch countermeasure,” shouted Mehr. He didn’t bother waiting for his first officer’s response. Mehr had other things to do if they were going to survive. “Helmsman, hard left rudder, steady on course two three zero, all ahead flank! Fire control, steer torpedo number one ninety degrees to the right!”

“Sir?” stammered Kashani with confusion.

“He’s on our starboard side, you dolt! Turn the torpedo!”

Kashani started inputting the turn commands, but the elderly Russian fire control system was slow and klutzy. He had to execute one turn, wait for the weapon to respond, and then do it again.

Mehr could feel the vibrations as the boat accelerated. But he knew that if the countermeasure failed, it wouldn’t matter.

USS Michigan, SSGN 727

“Conn, Sonar, target zig, Sierra five seven. Contact is cavitating and has deployed a countermeasure.” Buckley’s voiced boomed from the intercom speaker.

“Sonar, Conn, aye,” Guthrie replied. “Any indication the countermeasure is affecting our weapon?”

Zelinski looked at the torpedo control panel, and asked his technician before he responded, “No, sir. It doesn’t look like own-ship’s unit is being affected at all by the Kilo’s countermeasure.”

“Time to impact,” requested Guthrie.

“At six five knots, impact in two zero seconds,” answered the fire control tech.

“Conn, Sonar, one of the torpedoes is turning toward the right. Bearing two four nine.”

“Sonar, Conn, aye. Keep an eye on it. I need to know if it keeps turning toward us,” said Guthrie. Glancing at the plot, it wasn’t a threat, yet.

Kilo-Class Submarine, Yunes, SS903

“Incoming torpedo still closing.” The sonar operator was sobbing as he spoke. Mehr didn’t respond. It no longer mattered. The countermeasure had failed to decoy the American’s torpedo, and at its maximum speed it was three times faster than his submarine. The whale would swallow them after all. He closed his eyes tightly and prayed for Allah’s mercy.

Five seconds later, the Mark 48 ADCAP’s 650-pound high explosive warhead detonated right next to the Kilo’s hull, crushing it like a sledgehammer hitting an empty soda can. The twisted and mangled hull plowed into the bottom of the Persian Gulf.

USS Michigan, SSGN 727

“Conn, Sonar, loud explosion bearing two one six!” Buckley announced gleefully.

The fire control party erupted into a loud cheer, while Guthrie placed his head on the plotting table. They’d done it.

“Sonar, Conn, aye,” replied Simmons. “Do you hear anything else?”

“Conn, Sonar, propulsion noises for Sierra five seven have stopped. There are… there are breaking-up noises on the same bearing. The torpedo isn’t turning anymore. It will pass well astern of us.”

“Sonar, Conn aye,” Simmons responded soberly.

“Is it legal to congratulate you now, Captain?” asked Harper.

“Later. Let’s get our ass up to periscope depth and see if we still have an XO,” replied Guthrie wearily.