Part 1: Session One: Putting the CO in 'incompetent.'
Session One: Putting the CO in 'incompetent.'
0630. I awake on a crowded, bustling submarine. The USS Idaho, the glowing nuclear pride of the US Navy. Even in my sleep, I can feel the excitement, the youth, the intensity, the testosterone. Captains are usually fueled by pride, responsibility, patriotism...
But not me.
Look at these men. My men, my trusted officers. Smiling, laughing... probably at me.
So many buttons and switches... jeez, who ever said a nuclear submarine had to be so darn complicated?
The light of sanction erases all shadows. There is no where left for me to hide, no relief from the terrible judgmental stares of my men.
I can't help but wonder. They must know. How could they not? Everyone on this sub must already know my horrible secret... that I'm in way over my head. I was promoted by a clerical error. I have no earthly clue what I'm doing commanding this vessel.
But so long as this peace holds up, we'll be fine.
Oh, God, please let this just be a candygram.
---
VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: This is the Captain.
XO: Captain. Sorry to wake you. We just received an urgent message from COMSUBLANT.
Oh no, who is that? It sounds bad.
---
(Posts won't normally be this quick, but you happened to choose something I already had pics for from the test.)
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: I'll be right down.
XO: Aye, sir.
I can hear his contempt for me even when he hangs up.
XO: Skipper's on his way.
Why does it have to be top secret? Can't there just be some middle secret I can deal with?
Cook: Mornin', Cap'n.
CO: Morning.
Oh, coffee. You're my only friend. You still think I'm really in command, right? *sip*
Master Chief: EYES ONLY. Could get exciting.
Look at them. All three of them equally aware of my inability to lead, each trying to discern if the others know, and each too afraid to bring it up. At least we have that in common.
Master Chief: Captain's on the Conn.
All the air rushes out of the conn. Everyone tries to look busy, not because they aren't busy, it's just because they know they're supposed to try and look busy. It's certainly not because they're intimidated.
I hate this room.
Master Chief: Morning, Captain.
CO: Gentlemen.
XO: Morning, Sir. Mister Wheeler just got this off the VLF Wire.
I know what that is. Who said I didn't?
I'm too much of a disgrace to my father to write my full name. Initials will have to be enough.
CO: Ahem. Excuse me.
Wheeler: Oh. Sorry, sir.
Lt. Wheeler. That smug jerk. If I wasn't such a complete and utter coward, I'd give him a piece of my mind.
XO: Orders, captain?
Why are you always asking for orders? Just... carry on?
---
VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: Let me look this over, then I need to see the two of you, and Mr. foster in the wardroom in five minutes.
XO: Aye aye, Captain.
CO: EYES ONLY: Compromised patrol area Yankee Victor, okay. Seventy-two hours ago, Libyan Kilo submarine effected exit of Med gained open sea.
Wait, what?
CO: Though tracked by US forces, Kilo has broken contact. Subject sub is believed to be headed north at patrol area Yankee Victor.
Boy, I feel bad for those guys.
CO: At present time, threat to your mission and platform is considered slight.
Wait, that's us?!
CO: You're advised of this developing situation so you may take appropriate action.
What? What action? What am I supposed to do?
CO: Disclosure of this message to your officers, men left to your discretion. Continuation of your deterrent patrol considered paramount.
Oh, suffering succotash, please tell me this message ends with "April Fools."
CO: All other considerations secondary, SUBLANTS and et cetra etc.
Ffff...
XO: Here ya go, Skipper.
ABANDON SHIP! I mean, thank you.
Foster: Captain, XO.
Master Chief: Got the nav materials you asked for skip.
I didn't ask for any nav materials. Wow, it's a good thing these guys know what they're doing. I feel a little better already.
Foster: This is the passage charts, sir. This is patrol area Yankee Victor. Our current position via VLF nav fix is here, waypoint lisa. Our current heading is 045. Our speed is 5 knots.
Uhh.. ABANDON SHIP! I mean...
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: At best speed, what are the probable positions of a submarine that exited the Mediterranean 72 hours ago?
Master Chief: What class of submarine, Captain?
Crap, I forgot. Quick, make something up!
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: Kilo class submarine. Export type... possibly with a performance upgrade.
Foster: Export, Kilo.
Master Chief: 11 knots surfaced, 17 dived. Performance upgrade, 19 or so. So, I'm a kilo boat, and I manage to sneak out of the Med. Naturally, I assume that every swinging dick in the US Navy is trying to find me. So I play hide and seek. My best speed isn't 19 knots, it's 10. And I sprint from layer to layer. And I'm getting real paranoid playing hide and seek. I'd say he makes 525 nautical miles.
Wow, I think me and Mister Foster here just got served.
XO: Very good, chief. Well, gentlemen, that establishes an uncertainty zone of 300 nautical miles, 200 of which cuts into the southern end of our patrol. I'm not comfortable with that.
That dead stare, those pursed lips. He knows. He must know. He wants to be sick just looking at me.
Master Chief: Bottom line, he could be here already.
Foster: So, what do you want to do captain?
Stop staring at me! I cannot take your equally salty and bespectacled gazes.
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: Standard speed will be sufficient, but let's go deep. See that sonar watches are doubled, as well.
XO: Aye sir. Have those courses in Main Control five minutes ago, gentlemen.
Master Chief and Foster: Aye sir.
My god, that look. He's given up, resigned himself to his fate. What have I done wrong? Why won't he just say what he thinks I should do?
Foster: Who pulled his chain? I can't get it done that fast.
Master Chief: Law school's starting to look pretty good, isn't it, Mister Foster?
Law school. Dry land. Co-eds. Chief's right. He's always right. Why isn't he captain?
MEANWHILE
Deputy Director Matthews: Deputy Director Matthews.
Admiral "Wild Bill" Plaskett: You are aware the situations here is escalating.
Matthews: I recieved your message.
Plaskett: When are you going to let me tell these people what's really going on?
Matthews: I'll make a decision about discloure in two hours.
Plaskett: In two hours, the USS Idaho might be sunk! She might be on the bottom right now.
Matthews: Two hours, Admiral. I'll contact you.
Plaskett: Those are some pretty big dice you're rolling, Miss Matthews. I expect to hear from you in 120 minutes.
---
Time passes, nothing bad has happened... maybe everything will be fine.
Foster: Captain, your presence is requested in Sonar.
Crud.
Don't look at me like that.
XO: What've you got, Ensign?
Foster: What do you make of that, sir?
Whew, I'm glad he handed those to him. I haven't listened to popular music since Conway Twitty passed away.
Oh wait, I hope that's not a copy of my demo tape.
XO: Whatever the hell it is, it's far away. One convergence zone, two...
Okay, now you're just making stuff up.
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: Do you have a contact, Ensign?
Foster: I didn't think so at first; it was so far away. You know how strange contacts can come from the deep-
XO: Get to the point.
Foster: It's a Russian Akula class submarine, sir. About 120 miles north.
Oh, for crying out loud. Even I know that's bad.
Foster: She's making so much noise, they can probably hear her in Miami.
XO: Why is she in such a hurry?
Women, am I right, fellas?
Ooh-kay.
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: Can you give me a course and speed on this contact?
Foster: Convergence zones are only about six miles wide, sir.
I knew that. Who said I didn't?
Foster: Her speed is constant: about 34 knots. That would make her about 110, 120 miles away. Now, I can't be exact in terms of bearing, but my best guess would be 180/190.
All these numbers, can't they just say what they mean?
...
♫One thing leads to another♫
♪You tell me something wrong/I know I listen too long but then♪
♫One thing leads to--
XO: She's pointed right at us.
Oh.
XO: Skipper, I can have a brain dump for you on both of those Submarines shortly. I'll go get Master Chief. We've got a lot of work to do.
CO: Thank you Ensign.
Brain dump. I bet that's what they call me when I'm not around.
---
A short while later, I get a call.
Plaskett: Captain, can you see me?
CO: Barely, Admiral.
Plaskett: Good, then start listening.
Eep.
Plaskett: An SH3 just picked up a sonar contact 100 miles north of your position. Acoustic computer made it as a Russian Akula class hunter/killer. She's headed south right at you. At last report, she was making turns for 30 knots.
Great. The one time I actually have some idea what's going on and for some reason, I feel like I should play dumb. I hate my job.
---
VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: What's your best analysis, Sir. If this Akula looking for the Kilo too?
Plaskett: If this crazy Russian bastard was looking for something, he wouldn't be tearing through the water at 30 knots. I don't know what he's doing.
Well, that makes two of us.
Plaskett: I'm not going to keep you hanging out in the surface layer any longer than I have to. I've got a helo maintaining contact with the fast mover. Your problem is the Kilo.
Easy to say when you're sitting pretty on that big fancy aircraft carrier, and it's not your neck on the line.
Plaskett: I'm sending a pair of my destroyers north as pickets. Better stay out of their way, Captain. They're commanded by extremely eager young officers. Plaskett out.
Sheesh, it's not enough to call me stupid. Now he's gotta call me old too. I can't change that, you old codger.
XO: What do you want to do, Captain?
Why does everyone keep asking me that? Whatever happened to "Carry On" and "As You Were" and all that?
---
VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: I want to go deep and get quiet. The Kilo is our major worry right now.
XO: Aye, sir. Officer of the deck, rig for silent running. Submerge the ship. Take us down to 600 feet.
Wow, you don't trust me to make the order, so you as some other person to give the order. I knew it. He's given up on me.
OOD: Rig for silent running. Submerge the ship to 600 feet. Aye aye.
Maybe I should grow a mustache. Will that make me look cool? Do people still say 'cool?'
XO: Very well. Further orders, sir?
Oh, come on, I just gave you some!
---
VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: Let's get a look at the chart. I want to get an idea where all the players are.
XO: Admiral Plaskett's battlegroup is continuing North. Their present position is here.
I can't read that from here. But I also can't tell them that I accidentally flushed my glasses down the toilet...
XO: Between us and him, somewhere, is the Kilo. The Akula, they're closing in on us from the North.
Master Chief: Sonuvabitch'll be as loud as a fricking train, Sir.
Thanks, we've established that. Wow, he really does think I'm an idiot. How many times do they have to tell me the Akula's going to be loud?
---
Even with everything that's happened, now that I understand the situation, I feel better...
I feel like I'm not alone...
Heck, Grandpa used to say that every time God closes a window, he opens a door, right?
Foster: Main Control. Sonar. Hydrophone effects. Transient torpedo doors opening. Bearing 350.
Sheesh, Grandpa, you didn't say it was a torpedo door.
Master Chief: He's waiting for us.
XO: He's got to flood tubes and acquire. We've got about twenty seconds, Sir.
If he's going to flood, then we should be good right?
Your expression is telling me that, no, that is not the case.
---
VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: Sound the general alarm. Take evasive action.
XO: Sonar, go to 1-MC.
Foster: Switching to 1-MC.
MC Hammer, I hope.
XO: Battle stations.
OOD: Battle stations. Man your battle stations.
XO: Diving officer, full dive on bowplanes. Establish a five degree down bubble.
Slow down, too much jargon. What are you saying, man?
Weps: Weapons standing by, Sir.
Ooh, look, a black guy! I didn't know we had any of those on board.
XO: Officer of the deck, deploy countermeasures.
OOD: Deloy countermeasures, aye.
Oh, sure, you've got the time to repeat everything, but no time to explain anything.
XO: Helmsman, left full rudder, all ahead flank, steady on course 270.
Look at him. Cool as a cucumber. Why isn't he in charge? Can I do that? Maybe if I wasn't so incompetent, I'd know if I could.
Foster: Conn, Sonar. Hydrophone effect is evaluated to be incoming torpedo.
I'm with you, XO. Even I knew that.
Foster: Torpedo has gone to active homing.
Foster: Hostile weapon continues to close.
Foster: Torpedo continues to close. Range 1000.
Foster: Torpedo bearing opening.
Foster: Range 1150.
Foster: Range 1200.
Foster: SET-65 falling astern, sir.
Foster: Screws are slowing... engine stopped now.
Foster: She's out of gas. We've out run it.
XO: Sonar, Conn. State your contacts.
Foster: Torpedo is no longer a factor, sir. Sonar holds no contacts at this time.
Oh, thank goodness. We're safe now.
---
MEANWHILE
Foster: Conn, Sonar. Hydrophone effect. Bearing 350.
What? No. No no no.
XO: Battle stations.
OOD: Battle stations.
XO: SET-65 continues to close.
No, not this can't be. We escaped! I saved us...
Master Chief: That fish has still got us, Captain.
I know that! Cram a cigar in it!
Foster: Incoming torpedo has acquired. Torpedo is active.
I don't even know what that means... I don't want to know.
Foster: Torpedo continuing to close.
XO: Sound collision alarm!
Master Chief: All hands, collision alarm!
Foster: ...200.
No... please...
Foster: Impact in 3... 2...
XO: Damage control, report! Emergency blow, all back full.
Master Chief: It ain't gonna work, XO. This one's terminal.
---
The frigid water rushed into the sub. I trampled over piles of my own struggling men as the ship sank back-end first to the ocean floor. I tried to seal myself alone in a section where there was still air, but I didn't know how to seal the door with its stupid special name that was probably in one of those stupid special books I was supposed to read. The rushing water forced the door open, whacking me in the head...
At least no one could see that I peed my pants.