D. M. Ulmer 01 - Silent Battleground Read Online Free PDF

early eighties force levels rose to five hundred, while their U.S. counterpart fielded only a hundred submarines.
          U.S. submarine mission priority shifted to anti-submarine warfare in the absence of a significant surface threat requiring a new set of tactics and weapons.  One big problem: how to attack a submerged submarine with no way of determining its range?  The answer: new techniques for passive ranging, Target Motion Analysis (TMA) developed by forward thinking submariners.  This gained them a permanent measure of fame, for emergent techniques bore the names of their inventors, Clearwater plot, Lynch plot and Ekelund range, to name a few.  The number of practice torpedoes fired and ratio of constructed hits measured a commanding officer’s success. 
          Dave felt proud to be part of that.
          The advent of nuclear power shifted the Navy’s emphasis to reactor safety and demoted mission to a distant second.  Dave feared this shift might prove painful in event of war.  Now, worried by what emerged on the international scene, he believed this fear might be close to fulfillment.
          Lieutenant Brent Maddock held similar beliefs, hence always a welcome guest for Dave to vent upon.
    ***
    Brent’s vintage Porsche hydroplaned through a heavy spring rain along State Route 3 from Bremerton.  He turned off and crossed the bridge to Poulsbo, a tiny fishing and resort village located at the head of Liberty Bay off Puget Sound.  This lengthened his drive, but he had a liking for the town and drove through it whenever the opportunity presented itself. 
    He’d met Bea Zane in Poulsbo under unlikely circumstances four months earlier.  One night, Woody Parnell, Denver ’s new Ensign, Dan Patrick and Brent enjoyed a hard earned night on the town.  Dog-tired from the overhaul’s hectic pace, the three arrived at the same local restaurant where Dave Zane, Bea and longtime friend Commodore Eric Danis shared a table for dinner. 
    At evening’s end, the young officers’ fatigued conditions, coupled with having over-imbibed caused them to be boisterous and appeared in no condition to drive.  The commodore became extremely annoyed, particularly as they wore uniforms.  With a tone of anger in his voice, he told Dave and Bea that he would leave and personally drive them back to Bremerton. 
    Dave Zane wished to prolong an infrequent visit with his old friend and volunteered Bea to do the job.  Bea agreed and after the foursome departed, Danis commented on the deteriorating conduct of new junior officers.  Dave smiled and reminded his friend of a young Lieutenant Junior Grade back in sixty-five who had to be lowered into his submarine on the end of a mooring line.  This errant officer had too much party at Cot House Tavern near the fleet landing of the Polaris Base in Holy Loch, Scotland.  Both men sat silent for a moment and then shared a good laugh. 
    Commodore Danis said, “Tell me, Dave, is time really flying by this fast?” 
    They retired to the comfortable warmth of a huge hearth for a brandy and outrageous tales of their own junior officer days.
    ***
    Brent’s Porsche crunched onto the circular gravel driveway of the Zane’s modest dwelling.  It sat upon a quarter acre, screened from the road and the neighbors by stands of Douglas fir and cedars.  The house, built on a partial bank, had two sides of the basement open to ground level to accommodate access to the garage and a sliding glass door connecting the family room with an expanse of lawn.  Dave disliked puttering about the yard but did nurture a variety of shrubs and flowers planted by his wife.
    Bea wished to intercept Brent before he rang the doorbell and alerted her father to his arrival.  She wanted a few minutes alone with Brent before Dave found an excuse to capture him for yet another marathon conversation but reached the door too late. 
    Ding-dong, the bell sounded.                 
    Dave