Korea Strait by David Poyer Page A

corvette, Korean-built. Corvettes were smaller than frigates, but the ASW-heavy ones, like her, carried sonar, Mark 46 Honeywell acoustic homing torpedoes, and depth charges. The depth-charge suite was interesting; he wondered if they’d be more effective against a bottomed, waiting sub than torpedoes.
Dae Jon,
or
Taejon,
was an old ex–USS Gearing class, formerly USS
New,
DD-818. Her sonar suite wouldn’t be up to current standards. The last ship in line,
Mok Po,
was another corvette, heavily gunned, but one of the non-antisubmarine-capable variants. She didn’t even
have
a sonar; he didn’t know why she was in this exercise at all.
    The plotters’ hands whispered across the paper, etching in the new positions. Dan noted that the third in line—that would be
Dae Jon
—was tracking north. It had swung out of line four minutes before; now it was diverging markedly. He tapped its track, catching the evaluator’s attention. “She’s leaving the line. Closing the range. Do you know why?”
    The chief smiled with an expression Dan was beginning to recognize: eager to please, but uncomprehending. He tried a few more words, then gave up and waited for the next round of bearings. When they showed
Dae Jon
even farther off course he pulled himself up the ladder to the bridge again.
    On the wing, glancing astern—just to make sure, before he kicked up a fuss—he saw that indeed the old Gearing was pulling out of line. He checked the wing gyro, borrowed the lookout’s binoculars, and searched out along the sub’s bearing. He was looking for a periscope feather, or the gulls that often followed one, but didn’t see anything.
    Jung wasn’t in the pilothouse, but Hwang was. “Uh, see what’s happening with
Dae Jon
?” Dan murmured. “He’s pulling out of line. Closing the range to the sub.”
    â€œThey report problems acquiring.” The chief of staff shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Once they pick up the target, they’ll resume station.”
    Dan glanced astern again. The old destroyer was far out of line by now. He noticed
Mok Po
was hauling out now too, following the ship ahead of her. “Uh, how close are they going to go?”
    â€œAs I said: till they pick up the contact.”
    Dan was about to ask what if they didn’t, but at that moment thebow of the distant destroyer swung back, her starboard-side hull numbers coming back into view. A speaker above their heads sputtered Korean. “She has contact now,” Hwang announced. “She is rejoining.”
    Dan said that was good. He was turning to go below again when a white-jacketed steward bowed. He offered a tray covered with a spotless embroidered warming-cloth. Lifting it, Dan found a silver serving pot, a cruet of white fluid, and a dish of pure white crystalline cubes, stacked into what he realized after a bemused moment was a small replica
Chung Nam
. The smell of fresh hot coffee was overpowering. When he looked up every man on the bridge was staring at him.
    HE stayed in CIC all afternoon, keeping an eye on things. Events 27005 through 27007 went off without incident, though he noted the Koreans still didn’t pay overmuch attention to the assigned course. In almost every case, they closed the range to the sub more than the event called for. They crept in gradually, as if drawn by a magnet. He thought about asking Jung to caution them, but dismissed it. That was what the intro phase was for: so Jung, or Hwang, or the individual COs would correct shortcomings themselves. There was a limit to how much he could, or should, hold their hands.
    When dark fell the events were still going, though
Chung Nam
was off line for the time being and had withdrawn to the west to practice antitorpedo maneuvering. At last he got up and stretched. His feet hurt and his neck didn’t feel so great either. He hadn’t gotten all that much sleep over the last few