Operation arctic sting, p.23
Operation Arctic Sting, page 23
Borysko with his well-worn 4 x 4 in MacDougall Cove
THE LYRE—CABOT STRAIT TO SABLE ISLAND
As soon as our visitors had safely surfaced through the brash, Cobb lifted Lyre off the bottom, headed around the north end of St. Paul, and pointed us to Sydney Bight off the northeastern coast of Cape Breton Island. Eleven hours later, with some of the overhead brash finally clearing, Rusty set a course of 212 degrees for Sable Island, right on the Continental Break about 200 nautical miles due south of St. Paul.
Shortly after his course change, Rusty called me to Control. He pointed to the Okean display.
“What do you make of this?” he asked, indicating two blips to our southeast. One displayed the Russian letters И-С-А—I-S-A in English—that we already knew was the Admiral Isachenkov. The other displayed the Russian letters З-А-Д—Z-A-D in English.
I called Teuthis on the Secure Gertrude, describing the new indication. A few minutes later, Franklin called back. “We think that is the Soviet Frigate Zadornyy. She is an ASW ship with anti-sub rockets and torpedoes. Her sonar is second-rate with a maximum range of less than twenty nautical miles. Keep in mind that Isachenkov’s towed sonar range is more than a hundred miles under the right conditions. Zadornyy will stay close to Isachenkov and work off her sonar solution. Together, they are quite formidable.”
I passed the word to my crew—no unnecessary noise. With just ten of us onboard, that wasn’t a problem anyway. Then I took a close look at our tactical situation. The Soviets pretty much knew our destination, and they knew that we had to charge Lyre periodically. If I were positioning the available forces, I would place Carp, Shchuka, and Volgograd on our path to Groton. As best as possible, I would keep Isachenkov and Zadornyy east of us, constantly trying to get a good position. Then there was the perennial Soviet trawler in international waters off New London Harbor. To the best of my knowledge, the Soviets had put one of their better-equipped so-called trawlers in position—the Vega. I knew that Vega had a sophisticated sonar suite and state-of-the-art electronic surveillance equipment.
I called Teuthis on the Secure Gertrude. Franklin still had the watch.
“I think Carp, Shchuka, and Volgograd are ahead of us on our track to Groton. I recommend you guys keep a close watch. They will be lurking—as quietly as they are able.”
USS Teuthis & Lyre transit from Sable Island to Seal Island off southwestern Nova Scotia
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Fire!
THE LYRE—PORT OF CLYDE
Sam got us underway for the Port of Clyde on the southwestern tip of Nova Scotia. Barry picked this spot for no other reason than it was twenty-four hours away at ten knots with our periodic baffle clearing. I would like to tell you that it was uneventful, but I can’t.
Perhaps Admiral Isachenkov got a piece of us or Teuthis on her towed array—if so, it probably was us. Teuthis is way too quiet. It was really difficult to tell what happened. But suddenly, in the middle of Rusty’s watch, out of nowhere that big Soviet cruiser commenced pinging. We didn’t have a very good track on him. I’m sure Teuthis had a better one, but they did not always keep us informed of every element of the other guys’ behavior. The thing was, she was surprisingly close—close enough to pick us up on her active sonar.
It took me three seconds to arrive in Control. I glanced at the Akkord display. “How deep is the water?” I asked.
“One hundred sixty, getting deeper,” Rusty said.
“Okay, take us down to twenty feet over the bottom. Maintain your course. She’s making a lot of racket, so she cannot hear us. She’s looking for a ping return, not a sonar signature.”
“Teuthis,” I called over the Secure Gertrude, “can you get between us and Isachenkov? We’re hugging the bottom.”
“Roger,” Franklin answered, “We’re there now, about mid-column.”
I turned to Rusty. “Teuthis is tracking us and Isachenkov full-time—and Zadornyy as well. Barry calculated the depth she has to be to intersect the pings from Isachenkov. Teuthis will maintain the shield until Isachenkov gets tired of the game…or her active sonar breaks. The Kresta-II class cruisers are notorious for their active sonars breaking down when used for more than a half-hour or so.”
“Lyre, this is Teuthis,” on the Secure Gertrude. “Zadornyy has crossed your track and is paralleling you off your starboard bow about fifteen nautical miles.”
“This is Swordfish,” a Secure Gertrude transmission interrupted our conversation. “We have placed ourselves between Zadornyy and Lyre. We will push her aft of your stern and outboard of your track.”
Rusty and I scanned the Okean. Every once in a while, we could see a bit of Zadornyy. Of Swordfish, there was nothing—as if she were invisible.
“What a sea story this would make, Rusty!” I said. “Here we are in a stolen Soviet Alfa, surrounded by a Soviet cruiser, frigate, two Victors, and a Sierra, and not only can they not get to us, but they don’t even know where we are for sure. It’s a real shame we can’t tell the story.”
Frisco was good to her word. Zadornyy dropped back, crossed our track behind us, and rejoined Isachenkov somewhere off our port beam.
I relieved Rusty and remained near the bottom as we continued toward Clyde. Finally, sixteen hours later, Sam eased us to the bottom shoreward from Teuthis in 90 feet of water just off Cape Negro Island. Some land ice clung to the rocky shore, but except for a bit of brash, the water overhead was clear of ice.
Apparently, Isachenkov fixed her active sonar because we heard her pinging from time to time from due south. We were miles beyond her acquisition range—safe and secure for the time being. We were eager to commence our next leg to Seal Island, where we planned to attach the false sail to Lyre. Even on my monitor, I could tell that the divers were moving more quickly. They didn’t stop to play with Borysko even though he inserted himself into their activities as much as possible. Sergyi grabbed his 4 x 4 and sent it to the surface a couple of times. Borysko happily retrieved it and pushed it at each of the divers in turn, trying to get them into the game. When they failed to respond, rather than getting discouraged, the cetacean created his own game where he pushed his 4 x 4 under Teuthis and then hurried around to the other side to catch it before it escaped to the surface.
We finished the charge an hour early, and Sam headed us toward Seal Island on a course of 235 degrees at eighty feet. An hour later, Rusty took over for two more hours. Then he slowed to five knots and turned northward.
I had the next watch and would be bringing us through the shallows to our designated sail conversion location. I joined Rusty early to make sure he didn’t run us into the shallow bottom accidentally. He kept us off the bottom without my help, but I suspect he was glad I was there, just in case.
THE LYRE—SEAL ISLAND
Seal Island lies almost fifteen nautical miles due west of Cape Sable, the southernmost point of Nova Scotia. Water depth between Cape Sable and Seal Island is mostly under one hundred feet, although it reaches 130 feet at one point. Our track took us south of the shallows and then angled to the entrance slot for Seal Island and its four companions, Noddy, Mud, Round, and Flat Islands.
Our destination was a seventy-five-foot-deep hole, two-and-a-third nautical miles west of a line connecting Seal and Noddy Islands. Why does that matter? Because there were only two ways out, the way we came, or ahead to the west or southwest. Between the two westbound paths was a shallow spot we would need to avoid. That bump protected us from ears to the west, Noddy Island protected us to the north, Seal Island protected us to the south, and to the east, nobody could get close enough to matter.
“Teuthis, this is Lyre. What is the disposition of the Soviet subs?”
“This is Teuthis. As of an hour ago, we lost all three. Carp was headed in your general direction. Shchuka was pointed at Georges Shoal, and Volgograd seemed to be headed toward the south end of Cape Cod. Isachenkov and Zadornyy are steaming together about halfway between you and the Continental Break.”
We were in our twenty-seventh day since leaving Pt. Barrow. We had stopped twenty-seven times to charge the Lyre batteries. Despite not being able to track us directly, the Soviet subs knew our destination, knew how fast we could go and how far between charges. Furthermore, by this time, they had to have a sense of where we liked to charge. Obviously, it didn’t matter under solid ice, but where the bottom was reasonably available, we chose protected spots that tended to be shielded from them. They had to have figured this out by now.
We were nearing our ultimate destination. If the Soviets were to have any chance of stopping us, it would be in the next three days. What would I do were I controlling their operation? Carp was most familiar with us. We had actually forced her to the surface through the ice off Pt. Barrow toward the end of Operation Ice Breaker22. I don’t think her skipper knew that we had done that to her, or that we were even there. His divers clashed with ours—we killed three and captured two. As far as Carp was concerned, they simply disappeared. Nevertheless, Carp still had the most experience with this entire matter.
So, if I were they, I would assume we would bottom somewhere near Seal Island. I would position Carp to take advantage of our limited maneuverability during the charge.
As for the other two, I would place one at Georges Shoal, halfway between Seal Island and Cape Cod, and the other near Cape Cod. I would keep the two surface combatants somewhere off Seal Island. I got on the Secure Gertrude with the XO, who had the watch on Teuthis.
After detailing my thoughts, I said, “I am shifting Lyre to her auxiliary props. I recommend Teuthis run on the outboards at ultra-quiet. We really don’t need to advertise our position to Carp, assuming she is waiting in ambush for us.”
“The captain is listening and agrees with you. We already initiated a shift to the outboards and are at ultra-quiet.”
“Roger. Which way will you point?”
“To the west.”
“Roger. I will bottom off your starboard side pointing east.”
THE LYRE—BOTTOMED OFF SEAL ISLAND
Normally when we have maneuvered next to each other, we were in water sufficiently deep that I could position Lyre appropriately, and then Teuthis could come alongside and bottom with little difficulty, using the Basketball if needed. Things were different here. The Basketball was virtually useless because visibility was only ten feet or so. The water was too shallow for one of us to come in from above as Teuthis normally did. And, Teuthis got there first, so I had to find my way without the maneuverability the outboards afforded Teuthis.
The XO planted Teuthis on the bottom in the hole without problems. We were sufficiently close that Okean gave me a position for Teuthis. I couldn’t bring myself to trust the display enough to come within ten feet of Teuthis. I set Lyre on the bottom about a hundred feet away.
On the Secure Gertrude, set to the lowest possible output, I said, “Teuthis, you need to locate me with the Basketball and then edge Teuthis sideways until we are sufficiently close.”
A good thirty minutes later, the XO called me. “Lyre, we are crossing the gap. Visibility remains ten feet or less. We’ll take our time, so we don’t bump into you.”
The XO was right—it took another thirty minutes before he was satisfied with our relative positions. He let me know by Secure Gertrude.
I answered back, “It’s going to be several hours. Whadya say we rotate my crew to Teuthis? I want to be with Ham for the false sail installation, and we all could use a break from LRPs.”
“We can do it,” the XO said, “but we need to retain a responsible party aboard Lyre to get her underway if necessary.”
“Bert and I will rotate so he can spend time aboard Teuthis. We’ll work it out.”
Seal Island experiences high tide approximately every twelve-and-a-half hours, followed by low tide six hours later. Tidal range is about thirteen feet, but that doesn’t tell the whole story. High tide was eleven feet or so, but low tide was about minus two feet. So, high tide gave us more room, but low tide made our margin even tighter. The tidal flood current flowed eastward toward Nova Scotia and should have brought in clearer water, but the shallow water and muddy bottom worked with the current to keep visibility really low. The tidal ebb current brought even more muddy water from the shallows. I guess that when we planned to use this spot for installing the false sail, we didn’t take this into consideration. Too late now…the divers would just have to make the best of it.
We settled into position at low tide, which gave us about three hours before the flood current made handling the false sail materials difficult. Ham, Bill, and I worked out a plan together. Ski, with his still-healing foot, was off diving duty. That left Harry, Whitey, Jer, and Jimmy, along with Sergyi.
“I want Jimmy to remain out of the water as much as possible,” I told Ham and Bill.
“But he needs water time,” Bill objected.
“Conditions out there are much more hazardous than we’re used to,” Ham said. “Jimmy stays in the pot unless we need him outside.”
I agreed, but since Ham still had official control of the divers, I said nothing.
“There is the matter of umbilicals or rebreathers,” Bill said. “Given the conditions, I like umbilicals, but they will interfere with flexibility. I think they will interfere with the false sail installation.”
Both Ham and I agreed. We laid out a plan for the frame and Kevlar sleeve.
“What’s our window?” Bill asked, glancing at the bulkhead clock.
“We’re about an hour into flood. We have two more before the current becomes a problem,” I answered.
“The four divers are at depth and ready to deploy,” Bill said, glancing from Ham to me.
“Ham’s the official boss here,” I said with a grin. “I’m going to grab a shower and a bite.”
I actually spent only ten minutes in the rain locker, and for chow, I grabbed tuna sandwiches and washed them down with bug juice. Fact is, I really wanted to get back to Dive Control. This was a big operation, and despite Ham’s competence, I wanted to be present.
During my twenty-minute absence, the divers had moved the frame pieces from the DDC into place on both sides of Lyre. They laid out the pieces for easy assembly. Borysko had shown up as soon as the divers entered the water, 4 x 4 firmly clamped in his jaw. Wally had the Basketball and did his best to show the main action centered in our monitors. Even so, it was challenging to keep the whole picture in mind.
The frame for each side consisted of a thirty-foot bottom beam with four sections that folded like a carpenter’s rule, and similar beams for the middle and top, each about a foot shorter, and three vertical beams, one at the sail’s back and two evenly spaced along the sides. The folding vertical beams bolted together at the intersections with the horizontal beams. The after vertical beams for each side bolted together. The frame front consisted of a folded vertical beam bolted to three curved horizontal beams that bolted to both side frames. The fairwater planes were four folding sections that unfolded to the shape of a fairwater plane, with a fifth piece that extended down along the middle vertical beam of the side frame. It was bolted in place along the vertical and horizontal middle beams. The top consisted of two curved cross-pieces that bolted to the side-frame vertical beams and one lengthwise folding beam extending forward twenty-three feet from the back. Each folding joint was made rigid with a bolt. All the bolts screwed directly into the frame pieces and did not need nuts.
The frame designers supplied custom one-piece titanium ratchet-wrenches designed not to freeze-up in sandy or icy water.
Harry and Whitey picked up the bottom beam for the starboard side. Borysko approached and eyed it curiously. It was about his length, and he seemed to know that. He nosed around the other pieces and then wedged his 4 x 4 under one of Teuthis’ skids and picked up one of the curved top pieces about as long as his 4 x 4. It was light, and he swam away with it effortlessly. Jer and Sergyi jumped into action and gripped both ends of the curved piece. Borysko shook his massive head, throwing both divers away from the beam.
One of Borysko’s games was to let go of his 4 x 4 in mid-water, watch it rise to the surface, and then fetch it. In another, he handed it to a diver and indicated that the diver should let go of it. Then he would chase it to the surface and fetch it back. Borysko let go of the titanium beam, expecting it to rise to the surface. Instead, it dropped to the bottom, half-buried in the mud. He retrieved it and tried again, with the same results. Then he picked it up, swam to the surface, and dropped it. Then again…and again.
I grinned at Ham. “Looks like Borysko has outsmarted them. Tell them to finish the construction and then try to coax it from him. As long as they’re in the water, Borysko’s not going very far.”
Bill took mike in hand. “Keep building the frame, guys. We’ll figure out how to get that piece back when you are done.”
It took another hour, but the design was beautiful. Every piece fit as designed. The frame and extended fairwater planes were rigid and stable. If push came to shove, we would be able to operate without Borysko’s new toy.
The current was picking up from the west, clearing the water a bit. Visibility now extended to fifteen feet. Borysko was still playing drop-the-titanium-beam when the divers finished. Sergyi waved the other three divers toward him.
“Guys, let’s push the four-by-four under Teuthis and coax Borysko into fetching it on the other side…you know, the other game he likes to play.”
