Free Survivalist - 18 - The Struggle by Jerry Ahern

Navy Department expected someone to grow a beard within Regs without growing through the stubble stage first.
    He worked the buttons for focus as he looked into the periscope, surveying the lagoon which they were now entering. He felt almost like Captain Nemo returning to the island that was the seat of his anguish, but on this island were fellow officers and men in the service of Mid-Wake, fellow Americans.
    And—
    “Sebastian! Battle Stations! Get us out of here! Now! Down periscope!”
    Darkwood pushed past Seaman First Tagachi, sprinting toward the Command Chair, taking the three steps down to the Control and Navigation level in a jump, the Reagan already beginning to rock under him the instant Sebastian ordered, “Now hear this. Now hear this. Battle stations. I repeat, Battle Stations. This is not a drill.” The Klaxon sounded. Sebastian threw down the microphone, ordering, “Navigator, hard right rudder. All back. Blow air. Engineering—reactor status. Navigator—bring her about—faster. Engineering—that reactor status.”
    Saul Hartnett sang out, “Both port and starboard reactors on line and running smooth, Mr. Sebastian.”
    Darkwood stared at the video display as though he were looking through some huge window. On the beach, at the far side of the lagoon, he had seen Russian troops but no sign of their submarine, and that was what frightened him. Darkwood called back, “Navigator—are we about yet?”
    “We’re coming about now, Captain, in five… four… three … two… one … We are about, Captain.”
    “Rudder amidships, bring us to half flank speed.” Darkwood moved to the illuminated plotting table beside Sebastian. “Communications—bring up aft projection on the screen.”
    “Aye, Captain—you have aft projection.”
    Darkwood turned toward the screen, the picture changed instantly. There was nothing suspicious within visual range. “Communications—give me split screen imaging fore and aft.”
    “Split screen imaging now, Captain, as indicated.”
    The video display was now evenly divided between
    fore and aft views and, to prevent a panicked Captain from making some critical mistake, the words “fore” and “aft” flashed on and off on their appropriate screens. Darkwood focused his attention on the illuminated plotting board. The Reagan was into the inlet channel. Sebastian had done his work well and so had the Navigator, Lureen Bowman. Darkwood made a mental note to mention this in the log. Without looking up, he called to Saul Hartnett. “Engineering— be ready for overdrive as soon as we clear the channel.”
    “Aye, Captain,” Hartnett sang back.
    They were entering the portion of the channel where the shoaling had been. “Navigation—give me a slow blow to seventy percent negative buoyancy on portside tanks and eighty-five percent on starboard proportionately, and be ready to terminate the blow on my signal.”
    “Aye, Captain, starting the blow now.”
    It suddenly dawned on Darkwood, as things did at the most ridiculous times, that it was almost crude carrying on such rapid-fire buoyancy orders with a female helmsman. “Warfare.”
    “Aye, Captain,” Lieutenant Louise Walenski called back.
    “Torpedo tubes fore and aft loaded and operational with HEIS, Captain.”
    “Stand by, Walenski. Communications—get on the usual Soviet operational frequencies.”
    Andrew Mott called back, “I am already monitoring, Captain. If they’ve seen us, nobody’s talking about it. Who’s out there Captain?”
    Darkwood grabbed Sebastian’s microphone from the hanger over the table. “This is the Captain speaking. The island of Iwo Jima is supposed to be a top secret American training center for surface warfare operations. While approaching the island just upon
    entering the lagoon, I viewed a significant force of personnel in Soviet Marine Spetznas uniforms and full battle gear. This could have been an exercise utilizing enemy uniforms and equipment. On that off