The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

Maine steadied up on a northerly course and increased speed. It took several
minutes for her towed-array sonar to straighten out and be useful again. During
this time, the American submarine was somewhat blinded.
'Conn, maneuvering, we got that noise again!' the speaker announced.
'Slow to five – all ahead one-third!'
'All ahead one-third, aye. Sir, engine room answers all ahead one-third.'
'Very well. Maneuvering, conn, what about that noise?'
'Still there, sir.'
'We'll give it a minute,' Ricks judged. 'Sonar, conn, got anything on Sierra-5?'
'Negative, sir, holding no contacts at this time.'
Ricks sipped at his coffee and watched the clock on the bulkhead for three
minutes. 'Maneuvering, conn, what about the noise?'
'Has not changed, sir. It's still there.'
'Damn! X, bring her down a knot.' Claggett did as he was told. The skipper was
losing it, he realized. Not good. Another ten minutes passed. The worrisome
noise aft attenuated, but did not go away.
'Conn, sonar! Contact bearing zero-one-five, just appeared real sudden, like,
it's Sierra-5, sir. Definite Akula-class, Admiral Lunin. Evaluate as direct-path
contact, bow-on aspect. Probably just came up through the layer, sir.'
'Does he have us?' Ricks asked.
'Probably yes, sir,' the sonarman reported.
'Stop!' another voice announced. Commodore Mancuso walked into the room. 'Okay,
we conclude the exercise at this point. Will the officers please come with me?'
Everyone let out a collective breath as the lights went up. The room was set in
a large square building shaped not at all like a submarine, though its various
other rooms duplicated most of the important parts of an Ohio-class boomer.
Mancuso led the attack-center crew into a conference room and closed the door.
'Bad tactical move, Captain.' Bart Mancuso was not known for his diplomacy. 'XO,
what advice was that you gave to your skipper?' Claggett recited it word for
word. 'Captain, why did you reject that advice?'
'Sir, I estimated that our acoustical advantage was sufficient to allow me to do
that in such a way as to maximize separation from the target.'
'Wally?' Mancuso turned to the skipper of the Red Team, Commander Wally
Chambers, about to become the CO of USS Key West. Chambers had worked for
Mancuso on Dallas, and had the makings of one hell of a fast-attack skipper. He
had just proven that, in fact.
'It was too predictable, Captain. Moreover, by continuing course and changing
depth course you presented the noise source to my towed array, and also gave me
a hull-popping transient that ID'd you as a definite submarine contact. You
would have been better off to turn bow-on, maintain depth, and slow down. All I
had was a vague indication. If you'd slowed down, I would never have ID'd you.
Since you didn't, I noted your hop on top the layer and sprinted in fast
underneath as soon as I cleared the CZ. Captain, I didn't know I had you until
you let me know, but you let me know, and you did let me get close. I floated my
tail over the layer while I stayed right underneath it. There was a fairly good
surface duct, and I had you at two-nine thousand yards. I could hear you, but
you couldn't hear me. Then it was just a matter of continuing my sprint until I