At 4:45 a.m. on February 9th, 2026, the USS Abraham Lincoln lay anchored in international waters roughly 85 miles from Iran’s coastline. The 100,000-ton supercarrier, towering above the Gulf like a floating city, was temporarily stationary for scheduled maintenance operations. On board were 5,000 crew members and a strategic asset valued at $13 billion. The calm surface of the sea betrayed no sign of the operation unfolding beneath it.
Three miles away, an Iranian Kilo-class submarine had briefly surfaced under cover of darkness. Eight elite frogmen from the IRGC Navy Special Forces slipped into the water, each equipped with a closed-circuit rebreather designed to produce no telltale bubbles. Strapped to their gear were limpet mines—50 pounds of C4 explosive per diver. In total, 400 pounds of high explosive were moving slowly through the water toward the hull of an American aircraft carrier.Play
The plan was simple in theory and devastating in potential outcome. Attach the magnetic mines below the waterline near propulsion shafts and critical structural points. Withdraw silently. Detonate remotely or via timed triggers. Breach the hull. Cause catastrophic flooding. Inflict mass casualties. Deliver a symbolic and strategic blow that would reverberate across the region.
Iranian planners believed they had identified a vulnerability. Sonar systems, they calculated, were optimized for submarines, not individual swimmers. A carrier at anchor presented an even easier target. Large. Stationary. Vulnerable beneath the waterline. Tehran’s assumption was that the Americans would not detect eight men moving quietly at depth.
But that assumption collided with preparation.
Ninety-six hours earlier, U.S. Naval Intelligence in Bahrain had flagged increased underwater training activity at Bandar Abbas. Satellite imagery showed frogmen drills and equipment movements. Intercepted communications hinted at a possible maritime sabotage operation targeting a carrier. The decision was made to quietly reinforce underwater defenses aboard the Lincoln.
Hull-mounted AN/SQS-53C sonar systems were set to maximum sensitivity. Twelve Navy SEALs were assigned specifically for underwater defense readiness. Six Explosive Ordnance Disposal divers were placed on standby. Underwater communications systems were tested and synchronized. Rules of engagement were clear: detect, track, intercept before hull contact—and capture alive if possible.
At approximately 2:00 a.m., the Iranian submarine surfaced briefly to deploy its team. What Tehran did not know was that the submarine’s movement had already been detected. Sonar operators aboard the Lincoln registered unusual underwater signatures. When the eight swimmers entered the water, their rebreather systems—though bubble-free—still generated faint acoustic traces. At a distance of nearly two kilometers, the sonar system identified slow, synchronized movement patterns consistent with human divers.
Inside the Combat Information Center, the contacts were confirmed. Eight swimmers. Bearing steady. Heading directly toward the carrier.
The captain authorized immediate deployment.
Within minutes, 12 Navy SEALs entered the water from the stern under complete darkness. Using diver propulsion and underwater communications, they split into two teams. Alpha Team moved ahead of the incoming frogmen to block access to the hull. Bravo Team maneuvered behind them to cut off retreat. The objective was containment.
At roughly 500 meters from the carrier, the Iranian divers continued forward, focused on navigation and timing. They were unaware they were being tracked every second.
Then the trap closed.
At approximately 200 meters from the hull, powerful tactical dive lights ignited in front of the formation. Blinding beams cut through the black water. The Iranian frogmen halted abruptly, disoriented. Seconds later, additional lights flared behind them. Silhouettes emerged—armed divers forming a tightening perimeter.
Surrounded.
The SEAL team leader signaled surrender. Drop the mines. Raise hands. Comply.
For a brief moment, hesitation hung in the water. Two Iranian divers attempted to break upward toward the surface. Four SEALs intercepted them within seconds. An underwater struggle followed—controlled, disciplined, no gunfire. The Iranian divers, fatigued from their long swim, were quickly subdued and restrained.
The remaining six frogmen assessed the situation. Twelve highly trained defenders had them boxed in, weapons drawn, no avenue of escape. One by one, the limpet mines were released. Hands went up. Resistance dissolved.
All eight attackers were zip-tied underwater.
The ascent was controlled and deliberate to avoid decompression injury. At 5:15 a.m., the captured frogmen were brought aboard via small boats. Medical evaluations followed. Hypothermia checks. No serious injuries. They were secured separately for questioning.
Meanwhile, the EOD team descended to recover the mines. Sonar pinpointed their positions. The devices were retrieved carefully—timers still active, approximately 90 minutes remaining. Each 50-pound C4 charge was disarmed and secured in blast-proof containers. Analysis later confirmed they were capable of breaching critical hull sections had they detonated as planned.
From detection to capture, the entire operation lasted 38 minutes.
Eight attackers deployed. Eight captured alive. Eight mines recovered. Zero damage. Zero casualties.
Interrogations began almost immediately. Though initially resistant, the frogmen eventually confirmed affiliation with IRGC Navy Special Forces. Equipment was examined. Rebreathers traced to foreign suppliers. Mine designs analyzed for weaknesses. Intelligence gathered from the operation revealed insertion methods, training protocols, and submarine deployment patterns.
Helmet camera footage from the SEAL teams documented every stage of the interception—evidence later presented to international partners as proof of a covert sabotage attempt in international waters.
Strategically, the failed mission dealt a blow to Iran’s underwater credibility. The assumption that individual swimmers could evade modern hull-mounted sonar proved incorrect. Continuous acoustic monitoring, combined with rapid-response special operations capability, closed what Tehran believed was a stealth gap.
For the crew of the USS Abraham Lincoln, the morning concluded not with explosions, but with routine announcements. The carrier remained fully operational. Maintenance continued. Flight operations resumed on schedule.
The message beneath the surface was unmistakable. Silent approaches are not invisible. Closed-circuit systems are not undetectable. A stationary carrier is not undefended.
Iran had wagered that eight elite frogmen and 400 pounds of explosives could accomplish what missiles had not. Thirty-eight minutes later, all eight were prisoners, their weapons secured, their mission exposed.
The Gulf remained open. The carrier remained afloat. And beneath the waterline, the balance of power was clearer than ever.
