Submarine Warfare: White Water

By D G Leigh

◆Recommended for those that love Tom Clancy style high tech action.

A nail-biting roller-coaster ride of last minute escapes and edge of your seat suspense.
During World War Two the Japanese were developing their own WMD. A molecular bomb capable of horrific killing power by destroying human DNA but leaving the target country's infrastructure and resources undamaged, ready for the taking. Since the devastating atomic strike by the Americans ended the war, its existence has been lost and forgotten.....Until now.

Seventy years later an ISIS attack on a commercial airline will have deadly repercussions worldwide.

Jack Gehrig and Private Ellen Priss are all that stands between a North Korean operative and the total annihilation of the Western World. A fearful game of cat and mouse for the ultimate weapon takes place across a raging island inferno filled with crumbling war relics and government secrets leading to the final catastrophic showdown beneath the waves.

Cover art :- Stiven Sanchez

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bright Ideas Inc
• Release date: Mar 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310304460

D G Leigh

David grew up by the sea in a medium size fishing village.He filled his childhood days beach-combing, exploring nature and wandering around museums. Those early years gave him the love he has for the great outdoors and those motionless exhibition ignited his thirst for inhaling the real world.At eighteen he threw his rucksack across his shoulders. Over the following decade he encompassed the globe. Sometimes travelling alone through remote and dangerous places. These were his pirate years. Riding horseback on foreign shores waiting for the next escapade to tap him on the shoulder. Meeting many wonderful people from every corner of planet and haphazardly faced death on numerous occasions.He now resides in London with his wife and son.

Book preview

…

From the author of the action adventure

Grasslands

comes its spectacular sequel.

A nail-biting roller-coaster ride of last minute escapes and edge of your seat suspense.

White Water

(Part two of the Gap Year trilogy)

By D G Leigh

Published by Bright Ideas Inc

Copyright 2015

6th Edition 2021

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Foreword from the author

During research for this story I was genuine shocked at how much of the military hardware and common practices mention within these pages are real and take place everyday.

All weapons/vehicles used and their capabilities are accurate

right down to the inner workings of the type of

obsolete cold war torpedoes.

There's one exception though, while

DNA/ethnic targeting bombs do exist they're certainly not acknowledged by any government.

Special thanks

US Navy PR Office

* * * * * *

Prologue

Ripples

--- One ---

Yan had aged significantly more than the passage of time, his body felt decades older. He paused from sliding the patio door close. His daughter's laughter softened his sorrow. Watched Syng-Sue joyfully jump in and out of cool water jets as auntie danced the hosepipe left to right trying to catch her out. The moment fleeting. He latched the door and continued discussing an opportunity for revenge with his uninvited guest.

Everything with Jugeum is meticulously calculated, six moves ahead. Always has an alternative solution, another plan of attack, never retreat. Willing to sacrifice higher value commodities to secure victory. I'm not asking for much. Just allow me and seven colleagues on board your ship. No need to veer off course. Our vessel will rendezvous with yours long before the next port of call.

I could lose my licence or worse end up in jail. Yan picked up a picture of his wife and son, stroked the glass above their faces. It has been eight months since the incident. Their commercial passenger jet misidentified as a high altitude surveillance aircraft. Targetted and subsequently shot down. The Middle Eastern breakaway state fundamentally denies any involvement and refuses to enter into dialogue with the UN. The weight of grief increases gravity a hundredfold, Yan sank heavily into his high-backed leather chair.

I'm offering you a chance for retribution, Jugeum continued, every father deserves justice for his murdered family. I represent a group of individuals that want to hurt that country. These perpetrators won't ever be held responsible in your courts, the same jurisdiction system that would lock you away for dispensing legitimate punishment. How's that fair?

Yan breathed out for the longest time. Why do you need my help?

It's hard for members of my nation to move freely. We can't simply board an airplane. We're constantly followed and tracked everywhere we go. We need to leave Malaysia undetected. Your ship can provide us with those means.

My tragedy equals your benefit. Yan swivelled his chair. Syng-Sue now chasing a butterfly. Were you followed here?

Absolutely. The fact didn't concern Jugeum. I could leave right now with nothing more said between us but the authorities will still knock on your door, or we can help each other.

Yan's forlorn gazed went far beyond the walls. My wife chose this bungalow. Corner plot, south-facing aspect, took from the drawer a pile of unread gardening magazines, "can't bring myself to cancel her subscription. My daughter says mummy is helping God with his garden. So the other children that were on the same flight as her brother have somewhere nice to play. Are you a parent, Mr Jugeum?"

No sir, I am not.

Yan squared his shoulders. Are you a terrorist?

Jugeum expression twisted. We both know what I am. He offered something Yan couldn't resist. A final and welcoming verdict that didn't place the executioner's weapon in his hand. All that's required of him was simply leave a door open long enough for eight people to walk through, easy, who couldn't do that?

Syng-Sue came barging into the office. In her hand a fresh golden buttercup. Leapt onto her daddy's lap, held it under his chin. Papa, you love butter.

Yan squeezed her tightly. I love you. His arms would always feel empty.

Auntie briskly followed. Syng-Sue, your father has a visitor. Come back to the garden.

Syng-Sue studied Jugeum. Children see so much more, spoke her mind. I don't like him. Daddy, come and play. Tugged her father's hand.

Don't be rude. Say sorry at once. Auntie scolded.

Jugeum held up his hands, made a growling noise. It's okay! She's found out that I'm a monster.

Auntie didn't much care for Jugeum either, his mannerisms chilled her. Would you care for tea? Politely offered. Her body language said otherwise.

Yan interrupted. Mr Jugeum was just leaving.

He had outstayed his welcome, Jugeum stood to leave. He'd have to pursue another option. The easiest one would be to threaten the life of Yan's last surviving child, had no qualms about that. Wouldn't take much, Yan already a broken man. Perhaps there wouldn't be any need to snap off Syng-Sue's tiny fingers before he agreed to do as he's told.

Mr Jugeum! Yan held out his hand, taking Jugeum by surprise, wasn't expecting that move. His shake firm but not friendly. My answer is - yes.

--- TWO ---

American Museum of Natural History, New York. Basement level two. The elevator went as far down as level one, you had to take the stairs the rest of the way. A corridor stacked high with boxes of forgotten things led to a pair of port-holed wooden doors. A crooked handwritten cardboard sign hung over the handles, never got removed.

Experiment in progress:

NO ENTRY

Inside the gloomy windowless room, twenty-year-old Jack Gehrig expertly wasted his time. Permanently uncomfortable due to the temperature being kept low as not to cause long term damage to indefinitely filed documents of long deceased professors. Theories and studies that over the past century had been proven inaccurate. Nobody cared or ventured down to checked these tombstone rows of cabinets stuffed full of pointless academic research. At least the chill kept the rats at bay.

Three dragging years until graduation. Why hadn't he opted to study marine biology at Miami Dade State College instead? Heard that the weather is nice and the girls wear bikinis to class, though they were just rumours.

Another scrunched-up sheet of museum headed paper hit the rim of the lattice bin and fell to the floor denying its shooter a clenched fist victory hoop hoo-ha. Three weeks since Jack had returned home from his Mongolian escapade. Never once had Quifang left his thoughts. She was beautiful, intoxicating. He turned away from the growing pile of tennis ball size scraps laying on the floor and began writing her another love-letter.

A knock on the door interrupted the blank lines. Security warden Lewis entered carrying two cups of coffee.

Please tell me that's lava? Jack, wearing a hooded winter coat to keep warm, cheered up.

Coffee from the staff canteen, same thing! Lewis stepped over the waste paper. You need a wider bin. How's the experiment going?

Jack slid his private note pad into the top drawer. Fabulous! Within the hour I should've solved time travel, interplanetary exploration and the meaning of life.

Good, because I'm afraid this isn't a social call. The curator wants you in his office straight away. Lewis sat down. Handed Jack a coffee and pointed. As soon as I find you.

Let me know when you have! The friends clinked the polystyrene cups together. Cheers!

Jack hadn't been due to return to the States for at least another seven months. His landlady Miss McGill had short leased his old room for that expected term to a freshman student. Jack's worldly possessions packed away and stored above the rafters at a disused vineyard twenty miles up-state. Its services advertised on the back-cover of his local diner's menu, cheap space to rent $15.00 per-week, dry and clean, it was neither. As for his present accommodation Jack was sleeping at the museum on the spare night watchman's bunk. I guess we've been busted, sorry dude. Jack shrugged his shoulders.

No sweat, chill. Fifty-five-years-old Lewis insisted that he was smarter than any of the interns working here. "You guys spend five years studying three PhD's? Me? I've lived. Experienced life, shit has happened! That makes me naturally smarter. Nothing I can't handle." He promptly spilt his coffee.

Lived? Jack had been poisoned, shot, buried, blown-up and became a fabled God. All that before the year was even halfway through. Flashed Lewis a look of disagreement. If only he knew the truth.

For instance, I can see what's troubling you. Lewis mopped up the stain with his security baseball cap. It's a woman isn't it? Nodded his head with enthusiasm. Became very excited. Always at the heart of a problem there's a woman involved. Am I right?

Jack didn't want to continue this topic of conversation. Yeah! Replied unenthusiastically.

Told you! I told you! Don't need a PhD to see that you're properly messed up, kid. What happened did her husband catch you both in the act? Lewis started laughing, had nobody to share the joke with.

It's more of a distance thing.

Lewis understood completely. Stay away from those Brooklyn girls!

--- THREE ---

Indoor swimming pools have a unique echo. The smell of chlorine detectable from several corridors away. Blinded folded you know exactly what building you're in. Private Ellen Priss dressed in uniform stood at her emptied locker. Shipping out early tomorrow. Read the assignment papers again. Checked for the sixth time what she couldn't believe was written. Shook her head.

Report 0500 hours.

Andrews AFB.

Other troopers shuffled out from the showers, steamy mist filled the changing room. Buzz-cut hair didn't take any drying, their towels laid loose over the wooden benches. Carried on their conversations naked, modesty surrendered at the door when joining the marines. Each female at the peak of her fitness, a soldier first then a lady. Brawn and brains. Just as tough as their male counterparts. All eager and ready but with zero combat experience. They started mouthing off their deployment postings. Places all over the Middle East. Though one colleague had been issued a cushy embassy position in Europe and another was leaving for Washington.

Ellen's orders were to babysit some sort of academic around a decommissioned South Pacific outpost. Report to commanding officer Major Sam Collins, administrator of Hamilton Naval Base. An island leased to America. From there a few days voyage by ship to their destination. Why couldn't they use personnel already stationed there? They'd certainly knew the area better. Her squad mates were going to see real action first hand. Ellen wanted to make a difference with her life not be lumbered with a pointless milk-run.

Well at least you get to see sand and water, we just get to see sand! Private Hawks slapped a wet hand on Priss's back leaving a print. Even at ease Ellen's shoulder muscles solid. Lighten up, Nebraska.

"I know why I got handed this God damn assignment. It's for beating the admiral's stuck-up grandson at the BOX."

The BOX was a bit of fun. No merits issued competition for all graduating recruits. A series of challenges. Competed on a level playing field with any who sort to take part. Being the only girl in a family of four farming elder brothers, Ellen always played hard and played to win.

Hey! That's life in the big city! Hawks used a cowgirl accent then mimic two shooting pistols with each hand. I'm packing both hands. She made shooting noises.

Ellen huffed. Closed her locker. I really thought I was going to see some action.

Be careful what you wish for! Hawks blew on the end of her fingers as if they were smoking barrels. Don't forget to wax your bikini line. Sarcastically added.

Ellen replied with two hands as well, gave Hawks the finger.

--- FOUR ---

Mordecai laid on his back underneath the main console. Wires hung down, many wouldn't be put back afterwards. Around him lay an assortment of tools all wrong for the job at hand. The Earp was his ship, his lady. He had never been happy with her christened name. Lovingly referred to his little honey as Josephine instead. Her hard life had taken its toll on her looks but she had never missed or been late for a schedule in over thirty years of loyal service.

Repairs often done in transit, an on-going making good. There wasn't another vessel like her locally. An ex-mine sweeper, one of the first built with a fibreglass hull. By law she had to keep her battle grey and camouflage markings. She ran shallow in the water, an advantage here. Able to pass over reefs and inlets to gain access to places that other ships couldn't reach. She was Mordecai's baby. Most captains wanted to be buried at sea, Mordecai wanted to somehow be entombed with her, so they could be one. He joked grind my bones and paint me on!

Her foghorn blasted out again whilst still moored at Hamilton's ferry wharf.

God damn it! Thought I had you fixed that time? Touched an expose wire and got a quick sharp shock for his trouble. Why do you treat me like this, honey? Licked his finger.

Josephine's horn had been malfunctioning for the last few days, going off for no apparent reason, normally at the dead-of-night. There had been complaints from people that didn't know Mordecai, those new to the island. Probably chartered captains with stylish clientèle passing through bound for Tahiti, champagne and sunburn.

An impeccable pair of shoes stepped into the cabin just as Mordecai whacked the panel with a hammer.

BASH!

That's how you fix things is it? The spit and polish naval man observed.

The foghorn blasted again. Mordecai's head poked out from under the disassembled console to greet the inspector. Don't bust my balls. I'm working on it ain't I? The military man was Major Collins, Sam to his friends. Look, Sam. Mordecai stood up. I will have it fixed within the hour. Unlikely.

Sam ran his hand along the trim, not a speck of dust. Mordecai wasn't a corps-man but he ran a tight ship as if he was, that had always impressed Sam. You and I both know that's not going to happen.

Reaching into a drawer Mordecai pulled out two tumblers. But I'm making good progress. Handed Sam a glass. Josephine's horn blasted again. Mordecai kicked backwards with his heel, part of the panel fell off.

The pair laughed. Mordecai poured two large measures.

I'm here on official business this time. Sam tilted his head away from the shot glass.

Mordecai brushed both whiskeys back towards himself. Waste not, want not!

The US Navy would like to hire you and your ship. Would in military talk meant we will.

What? Your tin-cup navy ran out of boats? Took a slug of whiskey, savoured then emptied the glass in one gulp. "Of course I'll have to charge extra being a military operation and all. You understand?" He pushed his luck.

Reclaiming the whiskey tumbler Sam also took a swig. Placed the empty glass upside