No Greater Duty

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3Wardroom, USS John Warner

Submarine Force Atlantic, South Atlantic Ocean

April 19, 2019 at 0815

Lieutenant Junior Grade (LTJG) Tara Marcellus stood in the wardroom’s tight quarters with other Division Officers (DIVOs) in US Navy-speak. She was one of six officers from the crew who were Naval Academy graduates, and one of the submarine’s two female officers.

Her own objective was clear cut: to excel as a junior officer, and one who also happened to be a woman. Accept no special treatment because of her gender. Prove to sailors and shipmate officers they could trust her judgment. Stand up to any insults suggesting women officers aren’t up to the job of command. And one other hard and fast rule: never back down when someone gets in your face for doing your duty.

Eighteen months had passed since Tara joined the crew of USS John Warner SSN-785, one of the Navy’s Virginia Class fast-attack submarines operating with advanced technologies in underwater warfare. After Nuclear Power School and Prototype, she completed the Submarine Officer Basic Course. There she received her orders to report to John Warner.

The boat was designed to seek out and attack enemy submarines and surface ships through open-ocean missions as well as shallow coastal water, or littoral, missions. The Virginia Class submarine’s advanced technology detected and identified radar plus communications signals faster and better from ships, aircraft, and other submarines. Each boat’s payload supported forty torpedoes and cruise missiles, special operations forces, unmanned undersea vehicles, and an Advanced SEAL Delivery System. Virginia Class submarines carried out Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance missions (ISR). They could support battle group operations and engage in mine warfare.

The USS John Warner’s most fearsome weapon? Acoustic and electronic signatures enabled the boat to move in almost absolute silence and with stealth using state-of-the-art technology for a fast-attack submarine. Clandestine warfare.

Lieutenant Commander Walter Arroyo, the Executive Officer, stood inside the wardroom near the hatch as the submarine’s officers filled into the tight space.

Average height with brown eyes behind tortoise-shell-rimmed glasses, sections of his black hair already graying in a few places, he stood erect with hands clasped behind his back. Naval Academy Class of ’03, his stoic expression swept the small room to account for department heads and division officers present. The man served as second in command of a US Navy nuclear-powered fast-attack submarine armed with non-nuclear medium-range ballistic missiles and torpedoes.

Tara watched the last two men enter the wardroom. The brief wouldn’t begin without them: Commander Jim Whikehart, the Commanding Officer and Master Chief Kincaid, Chief of the Boat. The chief pulled the hatch shut behind them.

Almost two years into her first submarine tour, Tara was still fascinated how crews in the silent service conversed using their own language. At the Naval Academy, she’d quickly picked up on ‘Navy speak’ aboard submarines—how officers and senior enlisted recognized each other’s titles and duties. Acronyms replaced first names. The commanding officer was CO, the executive officer XO. Aboard a submarine, department heads (DHs) were often addressed by their department name instead of their first names or rank: ENG (Engineering), WEPS (Weapons: Torpedo, Fire Control, Sonar, Missile, Combat Systems), NAV (Navigation and Communications, IT), and CHOP (Culinary and Supply). Chief of the Boat, a US submarine’s highest rank enlisted sailor, was COB. Junior officers like Tara were JOs and DIVOs. Submariners called their vessel the ‘boat’—never the ‘ship.’ Ships were maritime craft riding on the water, not under it. Once aboard, Tara had the dialect down cold.

Listening to Commander Whikehart, Tara’s attention momentarily rewound back to seventy-two hours earlier when she had been summoned to the wardroom without knowing the reason. Why report on short notice? Had something happened? She stepped through the hatch and saw ENG, her boss, was there. So were XO and Lieutenant Kerr, the Weapons Officer or WEPS. The three men acknowledged her presence with blank faces.

Presume nothing, Tara had told herself.

In that meeting, her heart rate slowed down after Commander Arroyo had informed her that the Tactical Systems Officer (TSO) had suffered an acute appendicitis attack and had to be relieved of his duties. If his condition worsened, the submarine might have to surface to airlift the TSO to the nearest naval medical center.

“Lieutenant Marcellus, WEPS needs someone to serve as DIVO for Sonar and Fire Control Divisions now,” XO had told her. Lieutenant Commander Mike Urbanick, the Engineer Officer—ENG—and Tara’s Department Head or DH—had recommended she step in as acting TSO, and the CO had signed off. Tara was confident, knowing a submarine’s primary weapons functions were torpedoes, fire control, sonar, and missiles.

“You’re it. Any questions?” XO had asked in a manner expecting certainty in her response.

“No questions, sir,” she had answered to his satisfaction.

“Very well. WEPS will brief you on your duties.”

Now back in the moment, Tara listened to the CO address half his officer staff, some seated at the wardroom table and the others standing.

“John Warner has received orders for its next mission,” said the Skipper, slightly over six-foot tall with a broad chest, a square face, and thinning chestnut brown-turning-gray hair. “XO will brief you.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Commander Arroyo and took one step forward. “Commander, Submarine Force Atlantic has designated John Warner to conduct ISR in the South Atlantic Ocean. The National Command Authority has advised US European Command and US Africa Command of intel on Russian submarine movement in the region.”

Tara noticed the officers’ curious reactions when they heard the reference to Russia.

Russia had growing business interests in the region, diamond mining and fishing agreements, among others. When John Warner sailed out of Norfolk fourteen days earlier following a one-year stand down, its orders were to conduct ISR on friendly and hostile forces operating in the South Atlantic’s waters.

“At this time, Intel does not point to naval forces encountering any hostile situations,” Commander Arroyo told the alert officers. “However, Intel has identified the submarine Severodvinsk roaming under the sea on multiple occasions on the West African coast. Severodvinskis Russia’s newest Yasen-class nuclear-powered multipurpose attack submarine.”

Yasen-class boats were successors to the Akula-class submarine. Their armaments were eight torpedo tubes: four standard-diameter 533-millimeter and four 650-millimeter. The tubes housed homing torpedoes and Klub missiles capable of anti-ship, land attack, and anti-submarine offensive warfare. The boats in Russia’s newest sub class had twenty-four vertical launch missile tubes located behind the Sail. They could carry ramjet-powered anti-ship missiles.

“Mister Kerr?”

The Weapons Officer took over the brief. “Yasen-class boats are fast. They can do up to sixteen knots on the surface and thirty-one knots submerged, and remember this: they’re capable of doing twenty knots running at quiet, underwater.” WEPS wanted his warning firmly settled in each officer’s conscious and subconscious thinking. Later, COB would brief the senior chiefs, and they’d inform their sailors. “The Severodvinsk is the Russian Navy’s most recent challenge to US naval superiority under the sea,” warned the lieutenant. “Make no mistake. It presents a threat to us and our mission any time we’re swimming around each other in the same ocean space. We will not underestimate its capabilities.”

WEPS glanced at the CO. “Captain?”

“Surveillance and detection of Russian submarine activities will be our primary mission,” Commander Whikehart addressed his officers. “It is important to stay alert. Keep your sailors informed.” He studied their faces. “Questions?” There were none. “Dismissed.”

Tara walked out with Mike Urbanick. ENG was several inches taller than her. But Tara didn’t notice because his friendly smile put her at ease. She admired the man’s pleasant manner with others, especially enlisted personnel. Serving on this submarine with this crew should be fine, she assured herself.

“I told XO and WEPS they could count on you,” Mike remarked in the passageway.

“I’m good, sir,” she said brightly. “My sailors and I will handle anything that comes up.” Her voice was certain, her stride confident.

“Sounds good,” he answered her with a smile.

Urbanick waved and left to take care of some business. Alone in the passageway and headed to Control, Tara pondered what awaited her, one of two female junior officers aboard a US Navy nuclear fast attack submarine. And a junior officer whose words and orders would be weighed closely by the crew’s 135 officers and sailors. The most anti-female among them would probably pray for Tara and the other female to mess up. We’re not at war, Tara reminded herself. Just do your job the best you can. You’re an officer, so act like one.

Three days later, the second lunch period for officers had finished when off-duty watch standers and most officers reassembled in the wardroom. Lieutenant JG Tara Marcellus was among them. She saw the CO, XO and COB were already present. They were about to get busy, and Tara was ready.

“At 1400 we received updated orders that change our mission parameters. Commander, Submarine Force Atlantic has assigned our boat to join Expeditionary Strike Group Two and its reporting unit, Amphibious Squadron Six,” Commander Whikehart told the attending officers. “We will escort security for USS Wasp and Marines of 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit while the MEU operates in northern Sierra Leone—that’s Africa—to support a Noncombatant Evacuation Operation, an NEO. We will rendezvous with the Wasp in approximately fourteen hours.”

The USS Wasp was one of eight Landing Helicopter Dock Multi-Purpose Amphibious Assault Ships in the fleet. It could transport close to 2,000 Marines, ammunition, and various air and landing craft for peacetime and combat operations.

“US Fleet Forces Command does not anticipate the Strike Group and 24th MEU will encounter opposition forces,” he told the officers present. “I know the crew of John Warner will be vigilant during our mission.”

Tara spoke up. “Sir, will John Warner still monitor Russian submarine activity?”

The CO nodded. “Our orders are two-fold, Lieutenant,” he said and recognized her. “We will support the MEU as a secondary mission, our primary mission being to continue monitoring Russian submarine contacts.”

The South Atlantic Ocean was also the submarine’s Area of Responsibility, its AOR.

“I want to underscore that John Warner will be ready for Anti-Submarine Warfare and strike support during the MEU’s mission,” emphasized the CO.

He turned to Lieutenant Commander Arroyo, his second in command. “XO.”

“Thousands of people are escaping widespread acts of g******e,” said Commander Arroyo with a serious expression. “Given what we know from Intel on western Africa, trouble could definitely occur while the MEU is operational. That’s anticipated anytime Marines and sailors are inserted into a hot zone.” The XO paused to let his remarks settle in: widespread acts of genocidal murder, sailors and Marines potentially coming under attack.

“Both missions are higher priorities now,” he continued. “Conditions for either or both could change on a dime. John Warner will be ready should anything happen. Captain?”

“In forty-eight hours, we’ll meet up with Expeditionary Strike Group Two and the MEU’s Reporting Unit, Amphibious Squadron Six,” said the CO. “Chiefs and crew will be informed on our updated mission.” Whikehart studied the officers’ attentive faces. “It’s important we stay alert. You’ll get updates as soon as we have them. Thank you, dismissed.”

Mike Urbanick waited for Tara in the passageway. “If we run into any Russian subs, you’ll see some action,” he said.

“I know, sir,” said Tara. She needed no reminder of her temporary duty assignment as Tactical Systems Officer working in the submarine’s epicenter of activity. Nonetheless, she felt the pressure on her in Urbanick’s comment.

“Nervous?” he said, teasing.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said, her face lighting up.