CARRIER 3: ARMAGEDDON MODE

Pamela was as sharp as she was attractive. Was she right? Was it time for him to leave the Navy and find a saner job?

He wondered if he’d lost die edge.

it wasn’t the problem spearing the basket Hell, there was nothing wrong with his two-time failure to engage the tanker’s drogue. That sort of thing happened all the time in the day-in, day-out routine of Navy aviation. Danger, as the aviators said, went with the territory, was as much a part of their issue gear as flight suit and helmet.

But that was just it That sort of thing did happen routinely. There were so many ways to screw up in the cockpit . . . most of them deadly. Navy aviators needed an incredible blend of skill, training, reflexes, and luck to make tasks like snagging a fuel drogue in flight or making a night trap on a pitching

carrier deck seem routine, to do them again and again and again as though mere was nothing to them.

It wasn’t that Tombstone was afraid, but he was tired. Every man on board the Jefferson was tired, with eight months of the CBG’s nine-month deployment down.

And tired men make mistakes.

Tombstone said nothing as he took up the Tomcat’s patrol zone and throttled back for a long orbit. Sooner or later, something had to give.

The question was whether or not to get out now, before it did.

1206 hours, 23 March Bridge, U.S.S.Bttfle

Captain Edward Parrel turned in his high-backed chair to take the phone handset from one of the bridge watchstanders. t(Captain speaking.”

“CIC Officer, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Mason’s Voice replied. “We have a passive sonar contact, towed array, bearing zero-five-four to zero-five-six.” , Parrel’s eyes shifted toward the windscreens on the bridge’s starboard wing. The U.S.S. Biddle, one of Carrier Battle Group 14’s two Perry-class guided-missile frigates, was scouting far ahead of the Jefferson. Her primary duty was as part of the carrier’s ASW screen, searching for submarines that could pose a threat to the CBG. The horizon was empty under a brassy, gopical sky. The impulse to keep looking, to try to see X&nething out there against the featureless skyline, was irre-fttfitible. “Can you manage an ID yet?”

“Chase thinks it sounds like a Foxtrot, sir, but not one he’s heard before. They’re running it through the library now.”

Antisubmarine ships and aircraft either carried or had access to a tape library of underwater sounds, everything from the gtunts and squeaks of fish and other marine life to the Characteristic noises made by various undersea vessels. It was ‘•often possible to match a particular set of sounds not only with a general class of submarine, but with the acoustical profile of It particular boat. Good Navy sonarmen could sometimes pick

16

Keith Douglass

ARMAGEDDON MODE

17

out old friends by ear alone, and Sonarman First Class Chase was one of the best.

Parrel came to a quick decision. “Ping him. I want to know if we’re on top of him.”

“We’ll give it our best shot, sir. Conditions aren’t very good below, though.”

“Understood. Call me when you have him nailed.” He handed the phone back to the waiting sailor.

Passive sonar was listening only, using sensitive underwater listening devices to locate a submarine by the sounds of its engines, pumps, and the rush of water across its hull. Biddle’s SQR-19 was a towed array, hydrophones trailing behind the ship that could pick up underwater noises as much as thirty nautical miles from the ship.

Biddle also mounted sonar equipment in her keel. Designated SQS-56, it could either listen passively or broadcast sharp pings of sound, then pick up the echoes from any subsurface targets. Unfortunately, passive sonar could give direction—at least to within a few degrees—but not distance. Active sonar gave distance but was limited both in range and by conditions in the water. The SQS-56 could pick up a submarine if it was within perhaps six nautical miles of the ship . . . but the range could be sharply reduced by shallow, warm, or highly salty waters, and all three of those conditions applied to this part of the Indian Ocean.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *