The blue sub turned to the east, taking some time to come around, while the Japanese sub got closer and closer. Shoot on generated bearing… set… standby… shoot… fire! Tube one fired electrically. A new black track emerged from the blue dot, the fired torpedo, heading north to the Japanese orange dot. Almost immediately a red track came from the orange dot and pointed to the blue dot — the Nagasaki torpedo. The blue dot turned to run while the orange dot began to drive due east. Pacino watched, seeing that the red Japanese torpedo was dramatically faster than the black American one. The red track rapidly caught up with the blue dot until the blue dot flashed, pulsed and vanished. “Own ship sank at time 6:41,” Pacino deadpanned. The screen view continued as the orange sub kept going east, the black American Mark 50 torpedo going north to where the Japanese sub once had been. The two tracks made a cross as the black trace kept going north, the Japanese sub now miles to the east. “The Destiny drove off the track of the Mark 50 and has lived to tell the tale,” Pacino commented. “Dammit,” Phillips muttered, “we should have shot quicker.”
“Let’s spin it back to the initial detection. Chief. As you can see at the elapsed time of 00:50, the first leg is done and you’re steady on the second leg. Nobody in this trainer has ever done that in less than one minute thirty.” Pacino didn’t mention the previous record was his own.
“You did a great job on speed. Commander Phillips, going just fast enough to get the boat through a maneuver but not so fast that own ship noise would eliminate the signal from the target. Here at time 01:14 you’re ready to fire. Torpedo is fired at time 01:27. That’s thirteen seconds. Commander, if you had been in snapshot mode you could have launched in three seconds, which would have saved you ten seconds. Getting formal reports of ‘ship ready,’ ‘weapon ready’ eats time you don’t have. Just command’snapshot tube one’ and the weapon’s away.”
“You’re right,” Phillips acknowledged.
“Chief, show us what happens if one ship fires ten seconds earlier,” Pacino called out. The image reversed to time 01:14, and the torpedo emerged at time 01:17. The men watched the scenario as the same thing happened. The Japanese sub escaped, the American sub sank. Phillips sat up in his seat. “You’d have died anyway,” Pacino said. “And those are my only comments. Well done, men.”
“Admiral? Sir?” Phillips had raised his hand like a schoolboy in class. “Are you saying that the only thing we did wrong was shooting the Mark 50 ten seconds late, and even if we had fired earlier we’d be gone?”
“Looks like it. Captain.”
“Then how the hell can we go to sea against the Destiny submarine and survive?”
Pacino paused. “This simulation assumes the Japanese crew to be nearly perfect, which, of course, they aren’t.”
“So in real life we might have won.”
“Maybe. Have you heard of the Destiny III class?” Phillips shook his head. “It’s completely computer controlled. A robot sub. There will be no inattention, no distracted captains. That’s what you might be up against. And by the way, that’s top secret, so you didn’t hear it from me.” Phillips frowned and fished out a fresh cigar from his shirt pocket. “Captain Phillips, I’d like to talk to you after you dismiss your crew.”
“Aye, Admiral. XO, dismiss the men.” The watchstanders filed out until only Pacino and Phillips were left. Pacino’s face grew serious. “I didn’t want to tell you while your crew was here,” Pacino said, his voice a monotone. “How long have you been in command of the Greenevillet’ “Two years. Admiral.”
“Well, Phillips, you’re relieved of command of the Greeneville.”
When Philips had gone, Pacino had the chief turn out the lights and return the scenario to the time before the American sub heard the Destiny.
“Chief, can you reconfigure own ship to be a Seawolf class?”
“We think the program is almost right, sir, but I can’t guarantee the results yet until we field calibrate.”
“Can you reconfigure?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“Then do it.” Pacino waited as the chief changed the computer simulation to make the American ship a Seawolf class instead of the Improved Los Angeles class.
“Admiral, own ship is now the USS Barracuda, Seawolf class.”
“Begin simulation with the same signal-to-noise ratio.”
The scenario began to run, almost the same as before, except the Japanese sub was detected at a range of 14,000 yards instead of 7000 yards. Pacino maneuvered the ship, calling commands into the overhead to the chief at the computer-control console. He couldn’t help noticing that the fastest he could get a firing solution was two and a half minutes, sixty seconds longer than Phillips. He shot the torpedo, the Japanese sub moved off to the east and counterfired, and soon own ship sank and the Japanese Destiny emerged unscathed. “Chief, rerun that simulation with Phillips’s maneuvers superimposed, with his one-point-five-minute time to solution.”
“Sir, should I take out Phillips’s ten-second firing delay?”
