by Larry Bond
Kokurin leaned forward, a serious expression materialized on his face as he looked intently at his chief of training, “Please continue, Admiral.”
“During the final antisubmarine exercise, Captain Petrov displayed unusual aggressiveness in prosecuting his attack against PLA K-157 Vepr. On at least two occasions he knowingly violated the one-kilometer safety zone as he executed his maneuvers. And while I believe Captain Petrov retained a firm grasp of the tactical situation, such aggressiveness has brought this fleet no small degree of suffering in the recent past.” The allusion to the loss of Gepard as a result of Admiral Yuriy Kirichenko’s unbridled aggressiveness was not lost on all those present. Even Petrov bristled at the implied comparison, especially since the after-action analysis of the engagement had proven he had correctly assessed Vepr’s exact location and intended movement. Once again there was murmuring as several side discussions started up.
Thumping the table loudly with his fingers to gain everyone’s attention, Kokurin stood up and said, “Thank you, Yuriy Vasilyevich, for your candid statements. All of you would do well to remember that this is exactly what I asked for at the beginning of this board.”
The fleet commander paused, rose, and began to slowly pace around the room, a well-known habit of his that he displayed only when considering how to respond to an important issue. It was said that he’d worn a groove in his office carpet while thinking.
“Admiral, while I value your observation, we will have to disagree. In my opinion, there is a marked difference between my predecessor and Captain Petrov. I say this for two reasons. Firstly, by your own admission in the evaluation report Captain Petrov exhibited a calm composure during the antisubmarine exercise and seemed to weigh all considerations before issuing a maneuver order that brought him within 850 meters of Vepr. To me this is not undisciplined aggressiveness unleashed in the heat of the moment, but rather an example of rational decision-making skills and a well-honed ability to consider the risks before taking action.”
Realizing that the tenor and volume of his voice was rising, Kokurin stopped momentarily and straightened his uniform jacket before resuming.
“Secondly, most of you are aware of Captain Petrov’s upbringing in the submarine force. His teacher, Dmitriy Ivanovich Makeyev, was the best submarine tactician that Russia has ever produced and he spoke very favorably of our young captain’s abilities. And while Captain Petrov’s record speaks highly of him, I cannot think of a better judge of an officer’s tactical qualities than Makeyev. So, no, Admiral Vlasov, I do not agree that Captain Petrov’s aggressiveness is excessive. I will agree that it is unusual, and that is a shame. Right now Russia needs a few more wolfhounds; not another tethered mongrel whose best defense is that it barks loudly.”
As the fleet commander walked back toward his chair, Petrov scanned the room and saw that everyone was looking straight at him. Uncomfortable with this degree of attention, the young captain occupied himself by straightening the papers and binders in front of him.
“Gentlemen,” Kokurin said as he sat down. “Unless there are any more issues to discuss, I will now read the judgment of this board.” The silence assured everyone that the time for discussion was over. Clearing his throat, Kokurin proceeded with the formal announcement.
“Captain First Rank Aleksey Igorevich Petrov, it is the judgment of this board that the crew of the Severodvinsk has met all combat training requirements and tasks, and that the submarine is at one hundred percent technical readiness. We therefore certify the submarine and crew as qualified for independent combat duty. We further decree that the Russian Federation submarine K-329 Severodvinsk is hereby accepted into the Northern Fleet and is assigned to the Twenty-fourth Atomic Submarine Diviziya of the Twelfth Submarine Eskadra. Congratulations, Captain.”
A hearty applause broke out from all corners of the conference room; Petrov rose and thanked the collective audience for their kind sentiments. He then spent the next half hour receiving individual congratulations and wishes of success from the directorate chiefs and their staffs.
As the last of the participants slowly departed, Petrov and his commanders were ushered back to the conference table by the chief of staff. As they headed toward their original seats, Kokurin motioned for them to move down, closer to his end of the table.
“Pavel, please join us.”
“Of course, sir.”
In stark contrast to the packed room earlier, there were only eight men at the table now, including Petrov and his immediate superiors. Of the five fleet officers present, Petrov had met the majority of them, including the deputy fleet commander and the deputy chief of staff for operations. He didn’t know, however, who the rear admiral was that sat next to his eskadra commander. A large map board with a chart of the Barents Sea was brought forward and placed to the left of the fleet commander’s chair. The entire scene filled Petrov with an immense sense of curiosity as he recalled the admiral’s earlier cryptic comment.
“Now that the bureaucratic requirements have been met,” said Kokurin, eyeing his chief of staff, “we can get on to more important business.”
Pointing to the unidentified admiral, he added, “This is Rear Admiral Litenkov, my Chief of the Intelligence Directorate. He will brief you on the operational background. Afterward, we’ll discuss what I intend to do about the situation. Admiral.”
“Thank you, sir. Comrades, you may or may not know that we have indirect evidence that a U.S. submarine was involved in the loss of Gepard several years ago. I say indirect evidence because there was no positive proof other than several hydroacoustic detections. I say again, nothing definite. Unfortunately, we do have direct evidence of Russian torpedoes exploding either in or on contact with Gepard. To compound the uncertainty, the prosecuting antisubmarine forces recorded up to half a dozen simultaneous confirmed submarine contacts over an area that spanned several hundreds of square nautical miles. This lack of precision in reporting significantly weakened any case we had against the Americans, and the president determined that our only option was to issue a diplomatic demarche to the American ambassador. Since then, there have been a growing number of contact reports of foreign submarines in our operational areas.”
Litenkov rose and walked toward the map board. “During the latest exercise period last month, there were eight such reports. But only one led to a follow-on prosecution by fleet antisubmarine assets, the rest were inconclusive and could have been false alarms. Unfortunately, contact was held only briefly before the submarine escaped to deeper water. We were, however, able to identify the submarine’s nationality. It was an American Los Angeles-class submarine.”
Picking up a pointer, Litenkov traced out an area on the chart just west of Novaya Zemlya. “This latest contact was in Operations Areas 21 and 22, which are the fleet’s northernmost combat training ranges. In addition, there is some evidence that certain U.S. attack submarines are fitted with tethered remote operating vehicles that are used for intelligence-gathering purposes. One such attack submarine, USS Alexandria, was at sea during the time frame in question. Alexandria is an Improved Los Angeles-class PLA.”
As Litenkov put the pointer down and returned to his seat, Kokurin suddenly leapt to his feet, reached over, and slapped the chart with his burly hand. “Since the loss of Gepard we have been wallowing in despair, and we have been very timid. Such attributes do not command respect. Without question, Kirichenko was out of control. He may have been blinded more by frustration than the political motives that were claimed, but his intentions were valid! I will not tolerate the Americans strolling merrily through my training ranges as if they were a park! Something must be done!”
Petrov was impressed and taken aback by the fierceness of Kokurin’s outburst. As Kokurin sat down, he gestured sharply to his chief of staff for operations. “Aleksandr, explain the plan to our comrades.”
“We plan to set a trap along the border of Operations Areas 21 and 22 using fixed acoustic sensors and Severodvinsk. We have one mor
e small exercise period in October, before the ice gets too bad, and we intend to use Operations Areas 18 and 19 to the south. It is our belief that if the Americans attempt to send a submarine on a reconnaissance mission, they will approach from the north and use the broken ice as cover.”
Petrov watched as the operations officer flipped the large-scale chart over to reveal a smaller-scale one with greater detail of the operating areas.
“This chart shows where we’ve laid thirty-six of the new Amga autonomous submarine detection buoys in a single line barrier. The buoys are four nautical miles apart, which gives us a ninety percent probability of detection should a submarine attempt to traverse the barrier. You, Captain Petrov, will take Severodvinsk and patrol along the south side of the barrier. Fleet headquarters will relay any contact reports from the buoys. You will be close by, ready to pounce. Any questions?”
“What kind of sensors are on these new buoys?” asked Borisov.
“They use passive acoustic hydrophones with broadband and narrowband processing. The technical specifications are included in your orders packet.”
“I’m concerned about false alarms,” injected Vidchenko. “How does the buoy’s processor determine if a contact is valid?”
“The buoy’s onboard processor will compare any signal it detects to an extensive library of submarine signatures and other sounds. The false-alarm rate is much lower than previous systems. But your point is still valid and that is why we are going to use Severodvinsk. A nuclear-powered submarine is a much better platform to do the follow-up detection and prosecution. Anything else?”
Both Borisov and Vidchenko signaled they were satisfied for the moment. Somewhat hesitantly, Petrov raised his hand and asked, “Sir, what are my orders if I find an American?”
“Drive him away with his tail between his legs,” answered Kokurin firmly. “This is where Kirichenko failed us all. He wanted a trophy to demonstrate our prowess to the world. I’m not interested in convincing the world of our greatness, that’s the job of the foreign and economic ministries. All I care is that the United States, Great Britain, and the rest of NATO knows that my fleet has the ability to protect our homeland and its contiguous waters. They must learn to respect us!”
“You are,” continued the operations officer, “not authorized to fire any weapons unless fired upon first, and then only if you cannot evade and report. You are authorized to use decoys and countermeasures at your discretion to achieve the mission’s objective. Are there any other questions?”
Petrov shook his head indicating he had nothing more to ask.
“Excellent!” cried Kokurin as he rose. “This mission is very similar to your phase three antisubmarine exercise, Captain Petrov, only this time with an unfriendly and uncooperative opponent. I expect you to embarrass the Americans, should they show up, as badly as you did poor Vepr and Captain Zubov.”
“I will strive to not disappoint you, sir.”
“I know you will, Captain. But may I offer you one piece of fatherly advice?”
“Yes, sir. Anything.”
“Admiral Vlasov is partially correct. You must be mindful of your own warrior spirit.” Kokurin advanced slowly, deliberately toward Petrov as he spoke. “Aggressiveness can be a blessing or a curse. If it is not tempered by wisdom, it will lead to recklessness. And that can have unfortunate consequences. Be my wolfhound, but don’t be a rabid one.”
Bursting with pride and overwhelmed by the fleet commander’s gentle admonition, Petrov could only nod his understanding.
Extending his hand, Kokurin said, “Good luck, Captain, and good hunting.”
Grasping the old submariner’s hand firmly, and looking him straight in the eye, Petrov replied, “Thank you, sir.”
As he departed, Petrov could not believe his good fortune. Receiving an unexpectedly good evaluation score, full certification and acceptance into the fleet, and his first mission all in one day was just too much to comprehend. The stars, as his mother used to say, were aligning in his favor.
3. PRIDE OF THE FLEET
Sayda Guba Submarine Base, Russia
The hour-long drive from Severomorsk to Gadzhiyevo seemed unnaturally short, almost as if Petrov were dreaming. And yet, he clearly remembered discussing several aspects of his upcoming mission with Vice Admiral Borisov and Rear Admiral Vidchenko during the return trip. Still feeling a little giddy from the conference, Petrov stared out at the rocky terrain along the ill-kept road and tried to figure out just how he was going to get his boat to sea in only three weeks. There were still some minor adjustments to be made to the navigation, sonar, and combat systems. The torpedo bays and missile complex needed a full ordnance load, and then provisions and spare parts would have to be brought aboard.
As fatigue started to set in, Petrov found it hard to concentrate on the growing list of things that needed to be done before Severodvinsk could slip free from her earthly bonds. Slumping back into his seat, yawning, he thought to himself, I shouldn’t worry so much. Vasiliy will see to everything.
A sinister amusement rose in Petrov as he tried to imagine how his poor starpom would take the news of the radical change in their plans. As the ship’s executive officer, Captain Second Rank Vasiliy Sergeyevich Kalinin would have to oversee all of the preparations. A master planner with a hyperactive sense of responsibility, Kalinin was an indispensable asset to Petrov and the boat. Unfortunately, his regimented personality didn’t take change very well. No, Vasiliy will not be amused by his captain’s news.
Petrov was gently pushed back in his seat as the car started climbing up the hilly approaches to the coast. As the vehicle crested the top of the ridge, he could see the submarine base below with its piers arrayed in a rough semicircle and a number of large bluish black objects nestled alongside. The sun was already well down on the horizon and the bright red and orange twilight made the submarines look even more spectral. The sheer beauty of the moment was soon shattered as the run-down and dilapidated gray buildings of the base came into view. Most of the buildings along the main road were apartments for the submarine crews and their families. It angered Petrov to see some of the finest men in the navy and their families live in such squalor. But there was nothing he could do but suppress the image. Dwelling on the unpleasantness of living on the Kola Peninsula only led one to drink. This was the escape of choice in Russia, especially for those who lived above the Arctic Circle, where there was no sunlight for months during the frigid winters.
The car slowly rolled to a stop at the head of the far right-hand pier. A large gantry crane from the missile-loading wharf nearby loomed in the background like a giant arm reaching out from the shadows into the evening sky. On the left-hand side of the pier lay Severodvinsk, her sleek form barely discernible in the fading light. Petrov exited the car and bid his commanders a good evening. Borisov and Vidchenko congratulated him once again and then sped off toward home.
Walking slowly down the pier, Petrov savored the cool evening air and mentally prepared himself for the task ahead. All doubts were instantly banished as he approached his boat. He was the captain and he had to be the living embodiment of conviction and confidence, or at least appear that way. Acknowledging the sentry’s salute and greeting, Petrov bounded up the brow onto the submarine and quickly made his way toward the open hatch on the port side of the sail. Maneuvering around the forest of masts and antennas, he squeezed his way to the bridge access trunk hatch and climbed down the ladder.
Instead of jumping past the last few rungs, as was his habit, Petrov quietly finished his descent, turned around, and came face-to-face with a wall of men. There must have been over two dozen crewmen packed into the central command post, and in the very front were his starpom and his battle department commanders. All of them stared at him with an intense visage of anxious expectation. For a brief moment they just stood there, nobody moved or spoke — the only detectable sound being the sharp ticking of the mechanical clock on the bulkhead. The eerie silence was finally broken by t
he starpom with a single word.
“Well?”
“It must be bad news,” injected the engineering commander, Captain Second Rank Sergey Vladimirovich Lyachin, “otherwise he wouldn’t have tried to sneak back on board.”
“Shhh, give the Captain a chance to speak,” said someone in the back.
Recovering his composure, Petrov threw his cover on to the watch commander’s desk and slowly started to unbutton his uniform coat.
“What is the meaning of this mutinous congregation, Starpom?” growled Petrov with feigned sternness. “I feel like a dying animal facing a flock of ravenous vultures.”
“Nothing quite so sinister, my dear Captain,” replied Kalinin reassuringly. “But I do believe it would be unwise, sir, to further delay in telling these desperate men the judgment of the fleet acceptance board.”
“Hmmm, I see.”
With deliberate slowness, Petrov put his coat on the chair and reached for the main announcing system microphone. Pulling it toward him, he tried to project an image of fatigue and disappointment. The former wasn’t difficult but the latter took some doing; he wasn’t the best of actors. Hesitating, he let out an exasperated sigh and said, “Well, I guess it would be best if I got this unpleasant duty over with.
“Attention all hands, this is the Captain.” Petrov shifted about in an agitated manner as he spoke. “I have just recently returned from Northern Fleet Headquarters. As you know, the Fleet Commander held the formal acceptance board for our boat today. And as expected, the testimony by the inspecting officials labored long and hard on our deficiencies. I know you gave your all in trying to meet the considerable expectations placed upon you, but the weight of evidence against us was overwhelming.” Pausing, he looked around the room as pained expressions started to emerge on his men’s faces. Kalinin was frowning, eyeing his commander suspiciously.