Jabo nodded. “Good duty. But it’s cold up there.”
“Did you get your MBA?”
“Nah,” said Jabo. “I’m not smart enough for that.”
“Keep an eye out for my orders, too,” said Perez. “Should be here soon.”
“Where are you going?”
“Trying for the ORSE board,” he said.
“East coast or west coast?”
“East, hopefully,” said Perez.
ORSE stood for Operational Reactors Safeguards Exam. They were the team that evaluated all the nukes in the navy, travelling to every nuclear ship and grading their performance. It was a grueling and vital job. There was one team on each coast, and as with most things in the submarine force, the east coast group held a measure of prestige. The snobbery was a holdover from the Cold War when the subs out of Groton and Norfolk operated on almost a daily basis with their Soviet adversaries. It was the kind of shore tour that could set a junior officer apart from the pack.
“Nice,” said Jabo. “Nice easy shore tour.”
“He’s a diggit,” said Burkhardt, laughing. ‘Diggit’ was a term the crew used to deride any man who was overly enthusiastic about the Navy, as in ‘he digs it.’
“Well thank God they’ve got ROTC units to send guys like me and Burkhardt,” said Jabo.
The wardroom door crashed open and the rest of the officers streamed in for their training. V-12, of course, was at the at the head of the pack. Bannick came in looking like he just awoken minutes before, his hair standing straight up, eyes squinting. The XO and captain arrived last and took their seats
V-12 spoke up. “Is today the day you tell us what really happened onboard the legendary
“Not today,” said Jabo.
“When? We were promised all the lurid details when you reported aboard.”
The captain spoke up. “How about we complete our fucking mission first, V-12?”
“Put me on the conn, captain! I’ll find her.”
The captain rolled his eyes at this and everyone laughed. “Just stay in the engine room where you can do the most good. Or the least damage.”
“Aye, aye sir.”
The captain thumped the table. “Commence training, Jabo.”
“We’re now following the tracking standing orders,” said Jabo. “Which you have all reviewed. Upon completion of this training, we’ll station the tracking party. If any of you get a hit…” He glanced at Bannick, who looked away. “Call away battle stations. We have every reason to believe the
“Explain the operating areas,” said the captain.
“Yes sir,” said Jabo, pointing at the chart. “While we don’t have any assigned areas, you’ll see I’ve assigned overlapping boxes, boxes that creep gradually westward at eight knots. Each OOD should consider it his job to search each of these boxes completely during his watch. But stay on track… be ready to turn over the watch where your box overlaps with the next box, so we can continue.”
V-12 stood up to get a better look at the chart, even though he wasn’t an OOD. He would spend the patrol in the engine room, as the
“What makes us think she’s moving along this five knot westward track?” he said.
“Exercise briefing,” the XO snapped.
“And the data points I have here…” said Jabo, pointing at the chart. “It’s consistent with a five knot SOA.”
“What about stovepipes?” said V-12. “Hers or ours?”
“No stovepipes,” said the XO.
V-12 looked up at that, as did a few others around the table. When submarines operated together, they were usually assigned “stovepipes” in the ocean, literally columns of water they were assigned from the sea floor to the surface, areas where they knew they could go to periscope depth, or surface, without the risk of colliding with the other boat. It was a staple of submarine exercise protocol. Not having them was akin to announcing a football game with three quarters. Jabo had actually considered creating some fictional stovepipes and putting them on the chart, just for appearances, but he didn’t want to limit any area of the ocean from their searching no matter how small. In addition, he felt like it would be lying.
“How will she get the broadcast?” asked V-12. “Or shoot trash?”
Jabo shrugged. “Like us — she’ll just have to be careful.”
He looked over at the three OODs, Bannick, Perez, and Burkhardt. They were okay with it, he could tell, too focused on the specifics of the procedures they’d been given to be distracted by the doctrinal departures. But V-12 wouldn’t let it go.
“Did they have to get special permission from the CNO for something like this? It’s a complete departure from Navy regs.”
The XO was starting to get agitated at V-12’s questions. “Why don’t you worry less about Navy regs and more about the standing orders you were supposed to memorize last night?”
“But XO…”
