Attack of the Seawolf

Give me twenty Mark 38 decoys, fifteen Mark 50 torpedoes, fourteen Block III Javelins, all of them ship attack units, and one Ow-sow. And of course the fifteen Mark 80 SLAAMs.”

“It’s your mission. I’ll radio ahead.”

Donchez didn’t look pleased, Pacino thought, as he went forward to have the pilot radio Japan with the weapon load out Well, the OP was his, it would have to go by his plan. He was beginning to feel the selfconfidence of command returning to him. It felt damn good. yokosuka, japan, thirty miles south of tokyo yokosuka naval station, pier 4 USS seawolf 0305 local time

Lieutenant Commander Greg Keebes woke up with a start. The sound of the curtain of his coffin-sized bunk being opened never failed to bring him crashing back to the reality of the submarine. In his year aboard the Seawolf, Keebes had yet to sleep through an entire night aboard, whether in-port as duty officer or at sea.

“What is it?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. A petty officer in dungarees held out a radio-message board.

Behind the enlisted sailor Keebes could see the chief torpedoman, who was also the duty chief for the evening, standing in the dimly lit passageway.

Keebes pushed back the message board, climbed out of the coffin and put on his khaki pants and shirt, feeling desperately in need of a shower. As he buttoned his shirt he nodded at the petty officer to turn on the stateroom’s overhead lights. The bright white fluorescents flickered, then clicked to life. Keebes checked his watch — after three in the morning.

“What is it, Deitzler?” Keebes asked the chief, a salty hovering, forty-five plus, his hair already gray, his face lined. What was it that made men get old so fast in the sub force? Had to be the atmosphere, the nuclear radiation, the food, or the stress. Or maybe the months at sea without a woman. Whatever, the fleet was full of old youngsters.

“Sir, the base weapons officer is topside. He’s asking for you, and get this — there’s a crane and a lowboy loaded with cruise missiles and torpedoes waiting to be loaded. He wants to know why we’re not ready to load weapons. Did I miss something, sir?”

Keebes ran his hands through his hair, wondering if the Navy bureaucracy had failed them again. Sea trials had been interrupted by the emergency orders to get the CO and XO stateside. But even so, the weapons tests weren’t scheduled for another month.

And when the weapons tests did begin they were only to shoot dummies of torpedoes to test the torpedo tube ejection-mechanisms. The plan didn’t have them launching cruise missiles for months.

“A little early to be loading dummies, if you ask me. Chief,” Keebes said, taking the message board from the radioman.

“Sir, these are war shots not dummies. Not even exercise shots. What the hell’s up?”

Keebes held up a finger as he read the message on the board, which had the answer to the chiefs questions:

091857ZMAY

IMMEDIATE

FM CINCPAC

TO USS SEA WOLF SSN-21

SVBJ EMERGENCY SPEC-OP

SCI/TOP SECRET — JAILBREAK

PERSONAL FOR COMMANDING OFFICER PERSONAL FOR COMMANDING OFFICER

//BT//

1. PREPARE TO GET UNDERWAY FOR EMERGENCY SPECIAL OPERATION.

2. NEW COMMANDING OFFICER EN ROUTE YOKOSUKA.

3. EXECUTE WEAPONS LOAD OUT IMMEDIATELY TO SUPPORT TIMELY UNDERWAY.

4. UNDERWAY TO COMMENCE IMMEDIATELY UPON ARRIVAL OF NEW COMMANDING OFFICER, APPROX 1000 LOCAL TIME TODAY.

5. ADMIRAL R. DONCHEZ SENDS.

//BT//

Keebes looked up at Deitzler, handed the message board over to the chief and waited for him to finish reading it. Then: “Get on the Circuit One, Chief, and get the crew up. Station the weapons loading detail.

Muster the officers in the wardroom and the chiefs in the crew’s mess. Whatever’s going on, we’ll know soon enough. In the meantime you brief the chiefs and get working on the load out and the pre-underway checklist.”

Keebes hurried into the wardroom and called for one of the cooks to stoke up the coffee machine. A new captain, Keebes thought. An untested submarine.

An emergency special operation. Terrific.

CHAPTER 9 FRIDAY, 10 MAY 0047 GREENWICH MEAN TIME

YOKOSUKA NAVAL STATION, PIER 4 USS SEAWOLF

0947 LOCAL TIME

Pacino knew he’d be too tense to sleep at his body’s normal time. His submarine would be long submerged in the darkness of the local evening before he slept again. Besides, he thought, it wouldn’t feel like he was an official submariner again until he had skipped a few nights of sleep. The feeling of fatigue had been as familiar and as comfortable as the deck shoes he used to wear at sea.