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

and Brent because his combat readiness interests appeared to conflict with the captain’s agenda.  Captain Bostwick bucked hard for promotion to admiral and had reached a critical point in his career.  He did not regard tactical excellence a significant stepping-stone and he expected Denver officers to support his personal program, hence Brent frequently stood at odds with him.  It would not be a good time for Brent to cry wolf and although he knew it would be wrong, he caved in to Dan’s request.
          Brent ordered, “Torpedo room; make ready a water slug in tube four.”
          After the firing key, the normal shudder followed throughout the submarine as the twenty-five foot long, twenty-one inch diameter launcher expelled its contents of green water into the sea.
          Dan admonished his friend.  “See. I told you. Nothing to worry about.”
          An instant later came the sound most dreaded by submariners … a deafening roar along with a screaming voice sounding an alarm over the 2lMC.  “Flooding in the torpedo room!”
          The shout erupted from the middle level operations compartment.
          Dan yelled out, “Ahead full!  Twenty degrees up bubble!  Torpedo room, commence compartment pressurization.”
          At Denver’s maximum depth, the order had minimal effect on the flooding rate.  Brent hurried toward the torpedo room as Denver  began to pitch down by the bow.  He seemed oblivious to the terrified men lining his tortuous route.
          Next, Dan ordered emergency blow of all main ballast and shifted engines to back full when the hull transitioned from an up to a down angle.
          Brent had accurately diagnosed the casualty and knew that only stopping the leak would save the ship.  The port torpedo tube ejection pump shaft had broken, leaving a three-and-a-half inch opening directly to sea and the entering column of water blasted into the ship as though fired from a cannon.  Only securing the barn-door valve to seal off the inrushing seawater could stop it. 
          Petty Officer Gary Hansen had already initiated the operation at a rear hydraulic control valve inside the compartment.
          Normally, this involved resetting an anti-refire valve (ARV) when the ram returned to battery.  But, the ram-shaft lay broken on the torpedo room deck and could not be repositioned.
          Brent would have to reset the ARV manually, a near impossible task because of its close proximity to the roaring stream.  With time running out, he struggled forward, passing terrified crewmen and yard workers along the way.
          He reached the torpedo room and ordered, “Hansen!  Hold the control valve shut.  I’ll reset the ARV by hand.”
          Brent’s lungs and eyes filled with the acrid mist created by the bombarding saltwater and he couldn’t see.  The shrill noise threatened to burst his eardrums and the force from the incoming water stream could easily shear off an arm or leg.
          Thoughts raced through Brent’s mind.  Concentrate, gotta try to remember where the valve is … find it and reset it.  Feels like the bow’s down a few more degrees.  Gotta watch out for the heavy stuff breaking loose, but I can’t worry about that now.
           Concentrate…concentrate…three points down, fourth and long with less than a minute to play against Army. Here comes the ball.  Why in hell did he have to lob it so damn high? Stretch out and give the converging linebackers a better shot. Concentrate…gotta concentrate. Beyond the first down marker, just grab the ball and hang on to it. Nothing else matters.  I’ve got it … squeeze it.  Crunch, gold and black helmets cave in exposed rib cage.
          CRASH.
          The barn door valve slammed shut and the inrushing water abruptly stopped.  An eerie silence fell over the compartment.  Hansen’s white-knuckled hands continued to hold the control valve in