D. M. Ulmer 01 - Silent Battleground Read Free Page A

until her retirement, scheduled some twenty-five years in the future.
          Henri believed the sole difference between him and the officers he served was three hundred years of injustice inflicted by whites that mistakenly considered themselves superior. Henri made this point through excellent performance and spurned what he considered liberal bleeding heart programs to correct past indiscretions.
          His uniforms always appeared impeccable and while the others capitalized on the informality of sea trials and dressed for comfort, Jacques maintained his dungarees in accordance with regulations and fresh from the laundry.  Well-shined shoes rounded out his meticulous appearance.
          Henri made it his business to know the details of the Attack Center watch better than any of the ship’s officers.  He felt it beneath his dignity to do just better than an average officer; he had to excel.  As the quartermaster gang’s leading petty officer, he made the Attack Center quartermaster-of-the-watch assignments.  By his own choice, he put himself on watch with Lieutenant Maddock, who he regarded to be the sharpest officer on board and a worthy challenge.
          With a deep basso tone Henri announced, “Personnel not on watch in the Attack Center clear the area,” a presumptuous order for him to initiate because the prerogative of command belonged to the conning officer.
          Brent took it in stride and let it slip, perhaps because of the relaxed atmosphere aboard during sea trials. Brent, unlike the other conning officers, admired Henri.  The others resented being upstaged by the young outspoken enlisted man, especially in the presence of Captain Bostwick, however, Brent’s self-confidence permitted him to see the value of being backed up by a competent subordinate.
          The helmsman reported, “Steady, two-seven-five.”
          Denver headed for the next sea trial in the best possible hands.
          Until now, deep dive results exceeded all that could be hoped for and arigorous test program maintained its schedule.  The few minor discrepancies encountered would not delay the final departure from the yard and there would be ample time for farewell visits to Helmsman’s Tavern prior to leaving for San Diego.
          The crew felt exhausted when Denver prepared for her final deep dive event, firing seawater slugs at maximum depth to test the torpedo tubes with full launch pressure.  Captain Bostwick anticipated a routine test and left Lieutenant Daniel Patrick in charge.
          Denver proceeded to maximum depth, maintaining coolant pumps in slow for greater reliability and lower noise levels.  For precise depth control, Patrick ordered speed above eight knots then ordered watch standers stationed at hydraulic controls for major hull openings to cope with possible flooding casualties. 
          Lessons learned from the loss of Thresher remained fresh. 
          Initiating the torpedo tube test firings at maximum depth, Brent ordered, “Starboard bank first, Dan.”
          Brent stood behind the Attack Control Console and the ACC Operator as tubes one and three operated successfully.  “Port bank now.  Tube two ready.”
          “Fire two!” ordered Dan.
          WHOOSH.
          “Tube two away.”  What the hell was that?   Was that a slightly different sound during the eject pulse?  “Hold it, Dan … I’m going forward to check with the torpedo room watch.”
          Dan asked, “Why for chrissakes?  These shots are going off like a Swiss watch and you want to hold us up?”
          Brent replied, “Just a hunch.  Let me check with the room watch to see if he noticed anything.”
          Annoyed, Dan said, “Damn it, Brent.  You call the old man and report this.  Otherwise, pop off four and let’s get the hell out of here.”
          Brent hesitated. 
          A rift had grown between Captain Bostwick