Authors: Scott Caladon
The Haeju painters were coating a section of the metal plates with radar-absorbing materials. This worked by absorbing the radiated energy from a ground based or air based radar station; the heat is trapped in the material and not reflected back to the prying radar station. This form of stealth is not 100% efficient and in a submarine is only useful when it is surfaced. It would, nevertheless, certainly delay significantly enemy tracking of its location. A submarine's degree of surface invisibility can also be enhanced by the shape of the craft needing camouflage. The Borei submarine they were working on was the archetypical submarine shape, mainly curves and bends. The most efficient way to reflect radar waves is to use orthogonal metal plates. The idea was to make a corner deflector comprising two or three plates, then experimenting with different angles such as in the American F-117 aircraft. Under Sunwoo's instruction a series of these dihedral and trihedral plates were being assembled to be welded on to the submarine at the critical points and at a specific angle. Sunwoo's metal construction was as aerodynamic (maybe aquadynamic was more appropriate) as practicable but the sub would lose a couple of knots of surface speed once they were attached.
Much of the time, though, submarines are submerged, not surfaced, especially when they are in attack mode. This was not lost on Sunwoo. Enemy detection of a submerged submarine would be primarily through the activation of passive sonar arrays. It may seem like an afterthought but extensive rubber mountings on the inside and outside of the vessel's frame had produced good test results in dampening the acoustics over and above what was already in place. The whole process seemed a bit Home Depot. It would have been ideal if our Russian friends had loaned us one of their new 5G stealth submarines, thought Sunwoo. These subs were being built from scratch using advanced special materials for the hull and building in deflector mechanisms and acoustic dampeners. Beggars can't be choosers, rationalised Sunwoo. In any event by the time he was finished applying his knowledge, this particular submarine was going to be seriously difficult to detect by friend or foe.
* * *
“C'mon Henry,” pressed Carolyn Reynolds. “We really want to go. What about my fluency in Korean and Dannielle's Russian? We were made for this and, in case you've forgotten, we were the ones who spotted the damned Borei!” Carolyn was visibly heated. She was standing, leaning on the back of a chair in Henry's office, next to the seated Dannielle. “What did O'Neill say Henry?” demanded Carolyn.
“You don't want to know what he said, I assure you, but it boiled down to no, a big no,” replied Henry.
“What did he say Henry?” added Dannielle, seated quietly and giving the big Maasai the look that said you know you're going to tell me eventually so you may as well blab now.
“Alright, he said no girls on tour,” blurted out and instantly regretted by the section chief.
“What!” exclaimed Carolyn. “That fucking sexist jarhead.” She blamed her dad for the language but at this moment it was firmly aimed at Commander Mark O'Neill.
“I think you'll find, Cally, that fucking jarhead is a derogatory nickname for a marine not a Navy SEAL,” corrected Dannielle, pleased that she had prompted Henry Michieta to spill.
“So what's a SEAL's nickname pray tell?” asked Carolyn in an unexpectedly calm tone.
“I think frogmen or green faces was the norm in their early days,” offered up Henry.
“OK,” said Carolyn. “Fucking Kermit features has no right to say no, let alone a big no with sexist remarks attached.” Officer Reynolds was back on the attack.
“Dial it back Carolyn. He does have the right,” countered Henry softly. “He's in charge of this mission and he gets to pick his team. You may not like it and you may need to lump it but there it is. You both did a great job spotting the Borei, bringing it to my attention and then briefing Associate Director Adams and colleagues on it. Be satisfied with that.”
The stern look on Carolyn Reynolds' face indicated that she was not satisfied. “Were there any non-SEAL combatants with Team 6 when they killed bin Laden?” asked Carolyn calmly enough.
“No,” replied Henry firmly.
“What about that woman CIA officer who spent half her career tracking down the son of a bitch?” responded Carolyn.
“She wasn't on the Geronimo mission, Cally,” interjected Dannielle. “As far as I know, she was close, following proceedings from their base in Afghanistan.”
“Good,” stated Carolyn. “Henry, please tell Kermit that we'd like to be close, so that we can follow proceedings, maybe use our language skills, maybe keep the Neanderthal amphibian and his froglets out of trouble, maybe be fucking involved.”
Henry Michieta knew that it was in his best interests for a life of peace and quiet that he send Commander O'Neill another email.
* * *
Mark O'Neill had more or less settled on his team. In addition to Billy Smith, he had selected three others from Team 5. One underwater demolition expert, a definite veteran of thirty-six years old, Joe Franks. One lead driver/navigator, Tommy Fairclough, and one whose expertise was in maritime engineering, Barry Minchkin. As well as being lead on this mission, O'Neill was the leader of Team 5. SEAL Team 7 was headed by Lieutenant Evan Harris. In consultation with Harris, O'Neill had selected the three remaining members from Team 7, making nine in total. All SEAL team members were trained to a high level in the skills that could be needed on any clandestine mission they were asked to undertake. Team 7 had two very interesting and appropriate characters for Operation Philidor Defense, David McCoy and Yang Dingbang or Ding as he was called.
McCoy was thirty years old, 6ft tall with short, wavy dark brown hair. He was a fitness freak and well known in the SEALs community as the best submarine pilot of his era. Much younger, he saw active submarine service in the Iraq war. Piloting the last of the Skate class mini subs he helped rescue nearly forty of his SEAL colleagues who had come under constant heavy fire from 300 embedded Iraqi soldiers with armoured vehicles near the Al Basrah oil platforms. The remainder of the SEALs squadron were relieved by 42 Commando of the British Royal Marines but McCoy's skill under fire undoubtedly saved countless American lives. He was awarded the Medal of Honor.
Yang Dingbang was a fourth generation American whose family had originally emigrated to New York from what was then Peking. Ding was around 5ft 9in, short black cropped hair and scored highly in nearly all his training courses. His forte was radar, having been clearly the best operator in his year. His other speciality was mixed martial arts and had he not made it as a SEAL his plan B was to enter the Ultimate Fighting Championship, middle weight class. Ding was a committed and loyal American and he thanked his country for the protection and standard of living that it had given his family, present and past.
Commander O'Neill was satisfied with his team. He personally knew more than half of them and in Evan Harris he had a second in command whom he had the highest respect for. Team selected, now it was time for the mission brief. Gathered in meeting room two of the SEALs HQ, Mark O'Neill outlined the mission. There was initially a certain degree of bravado among the team. These were predominantly young men. Their civilian contemporaries spent much of their time chasing girls, drinking beer and watching football. These SEALs thought it great that they were going to steal a North Korean-based Russian submarine. Franks and McCoy, being a bit older and wiser, dampened down the heist bombast.
“Where exactly is this sub, Commander?” asked Joe Franks.
“It's Mark, no ranks needed here Joe,” started O'Neill, keen to keep the meeting relaxed, if a little less boisterous. “Our information is that it's a Borei class Russian nuclear submarine, berthed at the Haeju naval base on the west coast of North Korea, about 100km south of Pyongyang.”
“What's the terrain like there and how is it protected?” asked McCoy.
“The terrain is mainly plains, with a couple of mountains, nothing dramatic,” said O'Neill. “We've decided to come in from the sea, as there is less likelihood of meeting a sizeable military presence.”
“Surely the submarine itself will be heavily protected?” McCoy responded.
“It will be protected for sure,” agreed Evan Harris. “From our information though the North Koreans have no idea that we know the sub is there. Normally, any of their larger submarines would be berthed, serviced or repaired on the east coast at one of the more advanced bases like Wonsan. The satellite images provided by the NGA officers who initially spotted the Borei, indicate some type of covering over the sub, like a floating aircraft hangar. As far as the North Koreans are concerned, we haven't a clue.”
“As such, we are assuming that the military security around or even on the sub is light,” continued O'Neill. “For this same reason we are not deploying drones. You've been told why we are not going to destroy the sub and we also do not want to risk alerting the North Koreans by having a drone hum overhead taking photographs. The NGA and CIA are going to direct their satellite over for one more image before we head out, to give us the most up to date interpretation of the sub's status.”
“Commander O'Neill,” said Barry Minchkin deciding not to be informal. “How are we getting there and when are we going?”
“We're heading out in two days' time, so anything personal you need to do or anything required for your successful participation in this mission, now's the time to do it,” responded O'Neill. “As to how we're getting there, we are privileged to be the first operational SEALs team to piggy-back a ride on the
USS Zumwalt
, our flagship stealth destroyer,” announced O'Neill. Smiles all round at that piece of information.
The commander continued. “North Korea operates a 50km exclusion zone around its perimeter so the
Zumwalt
will drop us off as near to that in the Gulf of West Korea without risk of detection. The two teams will then take to the augmented rubber raiding crafts we know and love.”
Yang Dingbang was a thoughtful soul and to this point he had taken everything in but said little. “Commander O'Neill,” he piped up, deciding not to call him Mark as they didn't really know each other and because he regarded Evan Harris as his team leader.
“Yes, Ding,” said O'Neill.
“Do we know where we are delivering the submarine, Sir?”
“No,” replied O'Neill. “We do not know and we will not be told until we have successfully secured our target and have exited the exclusion zone.”
“On that point⦔ responded Ding. “It's a Russian sub in a North Korean naval base. There is bound to be information regarding the sub's security in Korean and, I'd be almost certain, the operating system for the radar will be in Russian.”
Unfortunately, thought Mark O'Neill, as his body tensed and his throat dried up, he knew where this was going.
“None of us speak or read either language. We'll be a bunch of dead in the water fuckbrains if we're sitting in the sub, wondering how to get it started and/or how to drive it,” continued Ding. “What's the scoop, Sir?”
“It's funny you should bring that up, Ding.”
* * *
Carolyn Reynolds liked her apartment in Key Towers, Alexandria, not far from Springfield. It was modern with all the gizmos a young woman could want. She was on the fifth floor, had decent views from her bedroom and living room and the lift always worked. Her two bedroomed flat was decorated in mainly light colours, creams and pastels for the most part and her Queen sized bed was big and fluffy. When she was little her dad called her Princess, surely like a lot of dads to their baby daughters, but it felt special to her. As a princess she thought she needed a princess bed so from then on her bed was the most important piece of furniture. She still recalled vividly her mum or dad sitting on the chair reading her bedtime stories. Her mum preferred to read Dr Suess books to her, which were great, her favourite being
Horton Hears a Who!
Her dad preferred to read fables and tales of adventure like
Sinbad, Ali Baba,
and more modern stuff along those lines. Maybe it was her dad's entertaining delivery of the derring-do books that led her to the CIA, then the NGA. She loved her work at the NGA and felt lucky to have a friend and colleague like Dannielle, and a boss like Henry Michieta, even though the big Maasai preferred Danni, she smiled to herself. Anyway, tonight she was meeting up with Danni in downtown Alexandria. They were going to The Lounge Restaurant for some good food and drink. Well, a decent burger and a Bud for starters.
Dannielle lived in Springfield itself. It was only about ten miles away, so under twenty minutes for her to drive to Cally's. She was looking forward to having a night out with her friend. Neither of them had boyfriends, their jobs at the NGA took up nearly all their awake time, and they had been so absorbed by the whole Borei story that they hadn't had any free time for what seemed like weeks.
Dannielle's original surname was Kulikova. She was born in a Moscow suburb to a doctor dad and a housewife mum. Her father had felt that the Putin regime was becoming unfriendly and more claustrophobic for even middleclass families. He opted to revitalise the family's life in the USA. Dannielle had a younger brother, Arkady, and they all packed up and went to New York. Dad got a job in the New York Presbyterian Hospital, Mum looked after everybody and in late 1999 Dannielle and Arkady enrolled in the Abraham Lincoln High School. That was about fourteen or fifteen years ago, and her life had been at full pelt ever since. The family name was changed to Eagles, she went to university, became a US citizen, then the CIA, and now the NGA. Given her Russian origins, the CIA checks were particularly extensive but no worries, her entire family were clean and un-indoctrinated. Like Carolyn, she loved her job at the NGA and she had become closer to her friend the longer they worked together.