Under the Ice

As the seated seaman responsible for operating the ship’s two, sail-mounted planes yanked back on his airplane-type steering column, the bow angled sharply upward. This change of course caused those sailors not having the luxury of stabilizing seat harnesses to grasp some support to keep from being flung backward.

Matt Colter gripped a rail. With the sweating palms of his hands rubbed raw by the tubular steel his grip had locked onto, the captain watched as the depth gauge passed the six-hundred-foot mark. Doing his best to ignore the excruciating pain that shot up his wrists. Colter queried.

“Mr. Roth, what’s that torpedo doing?”

An awkward moment of silence forced the captain to repeat his question. It was now met by a stuttering response from the mounted speakers.

“Uh, sorry about that, sir. But I’m afraid the news is still grim. The fish is coming up with us, and has now closed the gap to eighteen thousand yards.”

Instinctively, Colter’s gaze went to the digital speed counter. It registered a blistering forty-three knots, and since any additional speed on their part was highly unlikely, the captain held back on venting his fury on the chief engineer.

“We’re approaching three hundred feet. Captain,” observed the diving officer.

“Torpedo’s still closing, sir,” added the intense voice of Stan Roth.

“Range is now down to twelve thousand yards.”

Matt Colter caught his XO’s somber stare. The two senior officers seemed to be attempting to silently read each other’s thoughts when a sudden flash of inspiration gleamed in the captain’s eyes.

“The damn ice!” reflected Colter fervently.

“We’ll head right on up to the surface, and then plow back down into the depths. And if we’re lucky, that torpedo will breach and smack right into that ever-loving ice!”

The barest of grins broke out on the XO’s previously worried face, and this was all that Colter needed to convince him to put his hastily conceived plan into action.

“Mr. Marshall, we’re going to go all the way up to one hundred feet before flooding the tanks and going back down to crush depth. I know it’s going to be a hell of a roller-coaster ride, but if the Lord is with us, this one should do the trick.”

As the diving officer prepared to implement this highly complicated and dangerous maneuver, the two occupants of the ship’s sonar compartment remained anxiously glued to their consoles. With their headphones tightly clipped to their ears and their stares locked to the flashing repeater screens, both Stanley Roth and Lester Warren waited for what seemed to be inevitable.

“It doesn’t look good,” quietly observed the concerned young Texan to his partner.

“That fish can’t be less than eight thousand yards off our tail.”

“I’m afraid it’s more like seven, and closing in with each passing second,” returned Roth grimly.

“Maybe it will run out of fuel,” offered Lester.

“It can’t keep on going like that forever.”

The veteran sonar technician shook his head.

“Don’t underestimate those Russkie engineers, Les. They build ‘em tough and with plenty of staying power.”

As the menacing whine of the approaching torpedo continued to fill his headphones, the Texan took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst.

“Well, if it does catch up with us, I hope we won’t go down without taking some Reds with us.”

This pessimistic remark was met by a passionate response.

“Don’t even think that way, kid! The Defiance ain’t licked just yet. You’ll see. Why the old man is probably cooking something up even as we speak.”

With this said, the steep angle of ascent that had forced them to tightly grasp the edges of their consoles to keep from sliding backward, abruptly evened out. For a few fleeting seconds, the Defiance ran level in the water before initiating a sickening, gut-wrenching plunge downward. Now it was all that they could do to keep from being cut in half by their consoles as the ship began yet another incredibly steep, spiraling dive.

Struggling to keep his headphones securely clamped over his ears, Stanley Roth listened intently for the manner in which their pursuer reacted to this precipitous maneuver. At first the torpedo’s distinctive signature was completely lost in the sudden turbulence left in the Defiance’s wake. It seemed to take an eternity for their baffles to clear, yet when they eventually did, the sound that met his ears brought forth an exclamation flavored by sheer joy.

“It’s still moving away from us! If it doesn’t turn soon, it’s going to leap right out of the water.”

Suddenly remembering the unique nature of the seas beneath which they were currently traveling, Stanley made the right connection.

“Why that’s it!

The Skipper took us on this roller-coaster ride so it would do just that!”